#rowans writings
Text
Ship of Dreams
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“You know - they say this ship can’t sink, it was all in the papers, impossible - they said.”
“Yes, that’s what I’ve heard,” Roman shrugged, shifting just a little closer. He wished he could wrap his arms around him, press kisses to his cheeks - pink with the cold - but they couldn’t, not in public. Roman hoped that was something that would change one day.
“If… if she did sink - what would we do?” Virgil asked, eyes still trained on the frothing wake the ship left in its path.
“Why, I’d swim us to America, of course, I promise,” Roman said, reaching over to brush his fingers over Virgil’s jaw, so he’d look over at him, “But she won’t sink, don’t worry so much my darling.”
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| Ao3 |
Warnings: Major Character Death, Minor character deat Drowning, panic, hypothermia. Vampire bites. Implied/referenced homophobia. Technically self harm., Vomit
Pairings: Prinxiety
Word Count: 4646
Notes: puhleasseeee read the warnings on this one <3
Hi all this is NOT my usual kind of fic and this one's gonna need some context AND some warnings.
So this is a fic I wrote for a RP au I'm doing on discord, which is why it may seem like it's lacking context. To add some basic needed context: Roman is an immortal vampire, Virgil is his boyfriend/lover - at the point of the fic they've been together about five and a bit years. This fic details how Virgil dies, and is a major point in his backstory for the RP. Everything else should be obvious in the fic <3
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Roman had hardly ever seen Virgil so excited as he ran into his arms, waving the pair of tickets he had just bought in his hand. Having fairly rich parents did come with perks, after all, and Virgil had finally managed to convince them to send over the money they’d need to go to America. Roman could have paid for them himself, but Virgil had wanted to do this one himself - and second class tickets were incredibly expensive, not even thinking about first. They were lucky Virgil’s parents had agreed to let him move further away - they already weren’t too happy about him living in England, let alone America.
Still, he was pulled into a tight hug, Virgil’s warm hand pressed into the small of his back and the other resting on his hip. Never would he get used to the warmth of human touch. Virgil pressed his lips to the shell of Roman’s ear and then yelped indignantly as Roman picked him up to spin them around with a cheer of celebration.
“I can’t wait to show you America,” Roman said once he’d set Virgil back on his feet, a grin broke out on his face.
“I still want to see these apparent secret tunnels of yours,” Virgil said, pinching his arm playfully, Roman yelped when he did, as if it hurt when he had barely felt it at all, “Need to see what you’re constantly raving about.”
“There are secret tunnels! I had them built myself!” Roman cried indignantly, Virgil had never believed him about his secret rooms and tunnels in his mansion back in America, Roman couldn’t wait to show him.
“Well I’d like to see them,” He huffed, “I won’t believe you until I do.”
“A week, my Stormcloud,” Roman said, meeting Virgil’s eyes with a bright smile, “A week, and I’ll be able to show you all you’ve ever wanted to see.”
Virgil punched him in the arm, “You’re such a sap.”
—-
“Isn’t she huge ?” Roman said, looking up at the ship they were to be sailing on. It was a warm day, sunny and midmorning. The ship itself was to sail at noon, but Virgil had always been nervous about timings, so they were here just a little bit early - almost ten am. Virgil yanked Roman’s hat over his face and huffed whilst he flailed and cried out indignantly.
“That’s why she’s called ‘Titanic’,” Virgil said, rolling his eyes, only making Roman laugh
“I knew that, you fusspot, come on.”
“No you come on, slowpoke,” Virgil said, whacking Roman in the arm before running off towards the ship. Running after him, Roman cried out with a laugh, weaving between people whilst keeping a hand on his hat. He knew that the people around must think him insane, but he didn’t care much when he finally found Virgil waiting for him near the second class gangway - he was fairly certain that the only reason he’d stopped was the fact that Roman needed the ticket he carried to follow him onto the ship itself. The guard checked their tickets - Roman Prince and Virgil Garcia - and handed them back to Virgil, who stepped up onto the gangway and stopped, leaning back to offer Roman a hand, smiling brightly.
For a moment, Roman was stopped dead in awe at how beautiful his partner looked, the cool wind whipping his dark hair around his face and his eyes lit up with a smile as he shook his hand, waiting for Roman to take it. Quickly he snapped out of it, reaching for Virgil’s hand and letting himself be led onto the Ship of Dreams.
Their rooms were lovely. Far better than they had expected with carpeted floors and mahogany furniture. Roman had honestly expected worse - though everyone had been saying that this ship was ahead of her time. According to the newspapers the ship’s facilities were more lavish and comfortable than any other for all classes, but he still hadn’t expected this.
“You want top bunk?” Virgil asked, already putting his bags up there - he already knew what Roman’s answer would be before he asked the question.
“I want to cuddle with you,” He said with a pout, making Virgil laugh.
Gesturing to the bed, Virgil shrugged, “It’ll be tight.”
“I know you don’t care about that,” Roman rolled his eyes, “You’d be happy if I had to lie on top of you.”
Virgil shrugged, “You got me.”
Rolling his eyes, Roman put his own bag on the top bunk with Virgil’s, glancing around, “You know - since we’re here early…”
“That’s your plotting tone, you’re plotting something,” Virgil said, crossing his arms.
“Well… we arrived so early, and there aren’t many people here yet… why don’t we go explore instead of hiding in here?”
With a small frown on his face, Virgil looked Roman over, he was still wearing a cloak and his hat, but… “...Are you sure the sun won’t bother you?”
“Such a worrywort,” Roman shakes his head grimly, “I’ll be fine, dearest, come on - I want to see what they’re hiding from us in first class.”
“Princey!” Virgil hissed as Roman stood up, grabbing his hand and pulling him along, “We can’t go there!”
Roman turned back to him with a smile, “Hey, they’re not here yet! It’s barely even ten and the trains haven’t arrived, why don’t we have a bit of fun, right?”
Shaking his head, Virgil made his way after Roman to explore the first class areas whilst they could.
—-
“This place is plain awful,” Virgil mumbled as they looked over the second class dining room. It was already nearly full of people gathering for dinner and crowded, neither of them were a fan of crowded spaces for their own reasons. Roman winced.
“What’s the chance they’d let you take a plate and go?” He asked, tilting his head, Virgil grumbled something unintelligible before grabbing Roman’s wrist and leading him to an emptier spot on one of the large, long tables and sitting down. Roman sighed and sat next to him, hooking his foot over Virgil’s for reassurance. When they were approached by a waiter, Roman declined anything and Virgil ordered and scoffed his food as fast as he could so they could get out of there.
The walk back to their stateroom down on E deck (so many stairs, Roman had offered to carry Virgil down them, he’d refused) felt like an age. When they had finally gotten there, Virgil gently pushed him down onto the sofa in their room, taking his own seat sideways in his lap, and pulling his hair back.
“Your turn,” He said, leaning back against him. Roman frowned.
“Virgil, love-” Roman started, before Virgil cut him off.
“You’re gonna protest because you do this every time but you haven’t drank anything in three days, Princey,” Virgil said, leaning over to pull him into a kiss, “And I don’t want you to be hungry whilst we’re tryna have fun, got it?”
Roman sighed, carefully brushing Virgil’s hair back and pulling his jacket down so it sat around his waist instead. Virgil immediately relaxed into him as his lips barely brushed over his neck.
“I don’t like doing this,” Roman said softly, Virgil shivered at the cool brush of his lips.
“I know,” Virgil said, reaching around him to start untying his hair, “I wish there was a better way for you to get what you need.”
Really, in Roman’s mind, he didn’t have much hope for something like that. He was scared he would have to keep doing this forever, and after Virgil…. Without Virgil he would have to go back to hunting.
Taking a deep breath, just the way Virgil had taught him, he nodded, “That would be nice, for now I’m… grateful that you let me have you.”
“Well I’m grateful that you can do it for me,” Virgil said, gently patting Roman’s chest, “You know I need the relaxation sometimes.”
“You’re going to get addicted to my venom at some point and then neither of us will be happy,” Roman pointed out, giving him a little nudge. Virgil huffed.
“I don’t think that’s possible.”
“Who knows?”
“Just shut up and bite me, Princey.”
—-
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Roman said, tone a little wistful as he leant on the railing, leaning over just a little to look at the ship’s wake. It still amazed him how such a heavy thing was able to stay afloat, let alone move so quickly.
Leaning on the railing with him, just a little ways away, Virgil hummed. His hair blew back with a particularly strong gust of wind that had his jacket billowing around his legs and Roman laughed.
“A little cold though, hm?”
“Just a bit,” Virgil grumbled. Crossing his arms on the railing and looking down at the water, “You know - they say this ship can’t sink, it was all in the papers, impossible - they said.”
“Yes, that’s what I’ve heard,” Roman shrugged, shifting just a little closer. He wished he could wrap his arms around him, press kisses to his cheeks - pink with the cold - but they couldn’t, not in public. Roman hoped that was something that would change one day.
“If… if she did sink - what would we do?” Virgil asked, eyes still trained on the frothing wake the ship left in its path.
“Why, I’d swim us to America, of course, I promise I’d still get us there,” Roman said, reaching over to brush his fingers over Virgil’s jaw, so he’d look over at him, “But she won’t sink, don’t worry so much my darling.”
“Mm…” Virgil hummed, looking back at the water, “It’s a little scary, isn’t it? I mean - I know we’ve both done it before, but… leaving everything we know? Isn’t that terrifying?”
“A little,” Roman agreed, “I like to think of it more as an adventure - it helps with the nerves.”
He had been on so many adventures in his time, moving all over England, visiting Spain, going to America. Virgil had only ever travelled from his home in Spain to England, it was still a terrifying journey - especially for Virgil, who worried too much about such little things.
“You look lovely in this light,” Roman says, glancing towards the sun where it slowly approached the horizon, “I’d love to paint you in it.”
He made a wide gesture and when his hand left the railing, his glove clung to the metal.
They slept soundly together that night, curled up in each other’s arms. That would be the last time they would ever do so.
—
The third day of their trip had started normally - aside from an odd ‘off’ feeling that Roman had quickly brushed off, not wanting to worry Virgil. They had gone about the day just like any other - Roman had wanted to see what the library on board had to offer (not much he hadn’t already read) but they had stayed in there half the morning until lunch, where they’d made their way towards the dining hall early in order to secure seats at the ends on the tables instead of being stuck between a bunch of strangers.
As the sun began to set, the pair returned to the stern of the ship to once more watch the sea, the night was clear and crisp that night - with not a cloud in sight.
“It’s getting dark,” Virgil commented as the sun slowly sank below the horizon.
“Do you want to go back inside?” Roman asked, tilting his head, it was definitely starting to get colder out here.
Virgil’s gaze travelled from the horizon up to Roman’s face, and then beyond him to where the first stars were starting to peek through the sunset, “Would you like to stargaze?” He asked, “Maybe after dinner? It looks like the night’ll be clear enough.”
“You think so?” Roman asked, joining him in looking upwards.
“Do you see a cloud up there?”
“I suppose not,” Roman chuckles, placing his hand on top of Virgil's on the railing, “Well now I’m excited to gaze at the stars with you, come - let’s have dinner quickly.”
An hour later when they returned to the deck it was fully dark, dark enough for Roman and Virgil to sneak up to the first class promenade on A-Deck where they could get a much better view without the ship’s smokestacks in the way. Luckily for them they weren’t noticed and found a cosy bench to curl up on. Roman let down his hair for Virgil to run his hands through as they watched the stars.
At some point Virgil fell asleep whilst Roman talked mindlessly about the constellations - most of which he had made up. He had always found it more relaxing when Roman talked, the sound of his voice soothing him. For the few hours that Virgil slept, Roman held him, his cheek rested atop Virgil’s head as he continued to watch the stars above them and the dark sea ahead. It was peaceful at night, with barely even a breeze, though it was cold.
By the time Virgil woke again, Roman thought it must have been some time past midnight, he wasn’t too sure, though Virgil was groggy and mumbling something about not knowing where they were. Roman told him that he’d fallen asleep.
“Oh you must be freezing,” Virgil said softly, sitting up a little more and looking at him, “We’ve been out here for hours-”
“I’m fine, really,” Roman waved him off. Sure, it was cold, but Roman didn’t mind all that much. Huffing - clearly not accepting that answer - Virgil shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around Roman’s shoulders. A triumphant smile on his face when Roman practically melted into it. He stuck his tongue out in retaliation.
“Oh put that away,” Virgil said, obviously trying not to laugh as he sticks his tongue out at Roman too.
“You hypocrite!” Roman cried, a hand to his heart with an offended gasp. Virgil turned away as he burst out laughing, giving Roman the chance to put on the jacket properly.
Looking back at him, Virgil crossed his arms, “I’m not getting that back now until we go inside, am I?”
“Absolutely not,” Roman says, shaking his head solemnly.
“Ro… oh shit! Ro - look at that,” Virgil said, grabbing Roman’s arm and pointing somewhere ahead of them. Roman’s eyes widened a little, “Is that an iceberg?”
“...I think so,” Roman nodded, frowning, an iceberg that they looked to be heading straight for, no less, “They’ve seen it - I can hear them - they’re turning the ship, it’s alright.”
“Oh, good,” Virgil says, leaning back into Roman’s side where they sat on the bench.
It wasn’t alright.
Virgil let out a short lived sigh of relief as the bow of the ship passed the iceberg ahead of them, before yelping in alarm when the whole ship creaked and screeched in protest and started to shudder and shake - grabbing onto Roman’s arm and staring up at where chunks of ice were breaking off of the berg and landing with a crash on the deck. Neither of them seemed to have words for a moment as they watched it pass.
“I didn’t realise icebergs were so big…” Roman said softly - it was the only thing he could think of at the moment. He didn’t know what he should have expected from an iceberg - but it wasn’t something so huge and monstrous as that.
Keeping tight hold of Roman’s arm, Virgil stood, Roman going with him so they wouldn’t have to separate. They made their way over to the edge of the ship. Roman put a careful hand on Virgil’s back as they leant over, trying to see what damage had been done.
“We can’t see from here,” Roman said, worry lacing his voice as Virgil turned back to look at him.
“What do we do?” He asks, “Do they know?”
“I’m sure they know,” Roman nodded, glancing around. A few more people had come up onto the deck now, looking around in confusion. The iceberg itself was already far in the distance when Roman felt the ship shudder to a halt beneath his feet, “Yeah, they know.”
Frowning, Virgil leant into Roman’s side, “How bad do you think it was?”
Roman stayed quiet and listened, though it was hard to hear into the wheelhouse with the people now on the deck murmuring and chattering quietly. Virgil waited patiently for an answer, and the answer Roman ended up with was not a good one.
“She’s sinking,” Roman said, voice small, Virgil looked up at him in horror as Roman started to panic, “It’s bad - really bad -the iceberg tore up the side of the ship -”
Quickly, Virgil squeezed Roman’s arm, putting a hand on his face, “It’s okay, shh, breath Princey.”
“Virgil -”
“Roman,” Virgil told him, “It’ll be okay-”
“Virgil there’s not enough lifeboats,” Roman interrupted him, still listening to what the officers were whispering about above them, “Not everyone is going to be able to make it - not even half-”
Putting both hands on Roman’s cheeks now, Virgil gave him a gentle kiss, “It’s okay, Ro, they’ll get help - there's other ships, precautions and stuff -”
“How are you not panicking?” Roman asked, looking over at him, Virgil looked back.
“I am - I’m just - you’re panicking,” Virgil said, “So I have to stay calm - one of us does.”
“That’s not - it doesn’t work like that,” Roman shook his head.
“Would you rather I be panicking right now?”
“...No,”
“Then shush - and lets just - lets just figure out what to do.”
—-
It was chaos. With Virgil clinging to Roman’s arm for dear life, Roman led them through the crowd from lifeboat to lifeboat, trying like many others to find one that would let them on. Women and children only, they all said, getting the men to stand back whilst women of all ages and children were piled onto the boats. Roman noticed one boat launched half full and almost shed a tear right then. Virgil helped a set of twins with curly red hair into the nearest lifeboat - they seemed to have lost their parents in the half-panicked crowd - he wasn’t allowed to follow them in. A surge of panic had overtaken him when Virgil had left his side and it never faded despite getting him back moments later.
They kept trying, the crowds grew more and more frantic, the number of people on the deck only grew despite more lifeboats being launched. Roman thought he might strangle the next officer who wouldn’t let Virgil on.
That surge of panic from before had never quite left him, only grown stronger and stronger as time passed and people got more and more panicked around them too. The yelling was deafening, Virgil had covered his ears some time ago, flinching every time someone screamed or shouted too close. People pushed and shoved their way to the front, someone elbowed Virgil and Roman hissed viciously at the man - he didn’t care who he was. The poor guy had backed off, terrified, just like everyone else.
The band was still playing. Virgil remarked on it bitterly as they passed the trio for the second time. “Music to drown by? Now I know we’re in first class.”
Roman couldn’t help how the remark had made him wince. First class, that’s who was up here. A few of the lucky second and third class who’d come up to investigate in the first place. Where were the hundreds of people who weren’t first class? How many people had been abandoned to die in the bowels of this ship?
Tilting, the ship was tilting. Walking down the deck to the last boat felt like walking down a muddy hill. They could see the water now, so much closer, at the bow of the ship - where they’d been sitting just two hours ago - water was almost rising over the railings now.
There were no lifeboats left.
They had tried desperately, checked everywhere, none. No boats were left, Roman could see them in the distance, sailing away. He could hear the screaming of a thousand people, left, waiting, scared, clinging to a sinking ship, hundreds of people left alone and scared to die. Virgil looked at Roman, eyes wide as water spilled onto the promenade they had snuck onto to explore just three days ago, the promenade on which they had sat to watch the stars.
“What do we do?” He whispered. Roman choked back a sob, he didn’t have an answer.
Still he dragged Virgil up the ship as it tilted, they followed the screaming crowd as they ran for the stern, no matter the hopelessness that was quickly filling his heart and spilling over into his head. Roman still held Virgil tightly as the ship tore itself in half, he still screamed with Virgil and everyone else as she crashed back into the water. Virgil was trembling, with cold or fear or both Roman didn’t know.
“It’s going to be cold,” Roman said, Virgil was momentarily stripped of his panic to stare at him.
“Pretty redundant statement, Princey,” he gritted out as they clung to a metal fence,
“You’ll have to hold your breath,” Roman said anyway, “And don’t let go of me - I’ll get us to the surface.”
Virgil didn’t bite back this time, the ship had started to go down again, they could feel it, the flip of their stomachs, like this was just a demented, awful, fairground ride.
Just as Roman had said to, Virgil clung to him when they were sucked down by the water into the void the ship had left. Kicking for the surface, Roman pulled Virgil out of the water, where he spluttered and spat out salt water. People all around them were screaming and yelling, splashing in the water, he held Virgil close as everyone looked for something to cling to, anything to keep them afloat.
“They’ll come back,” Roman said to a violently shivering Virgil, with a death grip on the jacket he was still wearing, later he would wonder whether giving the jacket back could have saved him, he hadn’t thought of it before, “They’ll save you, they’ll save you.”
Both of them, somehow, knew it wasn’t true.
It got quiet, it got quiet too quickly.
“They’re dying,” Virgil whispered, his voice cracking and small. His breath fogged in front of him, Roman could see his lips were turning blue and saltwater turned to frost on his eyelashes, “I’m- I’m going to die, Roman, you have to-”
“No,” Roman shook his head violently, he too had frost on his lashes, in his hair, though it was shaken off. He couldn’t succumb to hypothermia, after all, “No you won’t, I won’t, they’ll come back, they have to.”
“Roman please,” Virgil whispered, “Please turn me.”
“Virgil,” He whispered, “I-”
“Do it, Roman, please,” He begged, his words stuttering and forced through his quickly slowing shivers. He didn’t have time, the lifeboats weren’t coming back, they wouldn’t make it.
He supposed swimming to America wasn’t so far-fetched an idea after all.
“Okay,” he said, pained, but there was no choice, he would die otherwise, “Okay - okay.”
His fangs sank into Virgil’s neck, his skin was freezing, his blood felt like ice pouring down Roman’s throat, tears slipped down his cheeks only to freeze halfway there as Virgil fell limp in his arms.
A sob ripped its way from his throat as he pulled away, leaving blood to trickle from the bite despite Virgil’s heart no longer beating.
Through his tears he tore open his wrist with his own fang, holding the bleeding wound over his loves parted lips even as his skin knitted itself together again. He knew it was useless, he had been too late.
It was far too late when a boat did come back.
The death all around him had made Roman sick, he’d vomited at least once by now, lungs hurting though he didn’t need to breathe, heart heavy though it didn’t beat. He clung to Virgil’s lifeless body even as they tried to pull him aboard.
Weakly he fought them, but even he was weak and tired from the water, sobs still wracked his body with every moment. Roman hadn’t cried this much since he was human.
The officer had to break Virgil’s frozen fingers to loosen his grip on the jacket Roman still wore. His jacket, Virgil’s jacket, which he refused to let them take off of him in favour of dry blankets when they boarded the Carpathia even when they promised him he’d get it back. He’d screamed when they pulled Virgil’s corpse away from him, pulled him back when he’d tried to reach for him again, held him down as he cried out in anguish as his love sank under the water.
They called him mad in whispers aboard the Carpathia, crew and passengers alike, when she arrived to save them, hours too late though she was the only one who had come. An officer was assigned to watch him after he had tried to throw himself overboard within hours, he had to get back to him, find him, he’d promised that they’d see America, he’d told him that he’d swim if he had to and if they let him he would. Virgil didn’t deserve to rot at the bottom of the Atlantic.
But Roman had been too weak for that, he was too weak to save him, too weak to go back to him, too weak to make good on any of his promises. All he could do was cling to the jacket he wore and the blanket they had given him. He sat so still and unmoving that they worried he was in shock, they’d sent for a doctor and Roman had pushed him away when he’d tried to diagnose him with hysteria. Still he cried but he didn’t scream, he didn’t try and throw himself over the railings again, they had moved too far for that now and Roman knew he wouldn’t make it. He knew he wasn’t strong enough anymore.
The moment the statue of liberty passed over him was supposed to be a happy one, one he could share with the person he loved as they embarked on such a wondrous adventure. But it was only Roman who passed under that statue as rain poured down over them, it was only Roman who got to see her in her glory - even in the rain she was beautiful, he thought Virgil would’ve loved to see it.
“Your name, sir?” An officer asked as he reached the gate, expression blank and eyes absent, hands shaking as they clenched the jacket that still smelled of saltwater and death. He looked up, finding himself unable to make eye contact with the man, though he had a kind face, a sympathetic look in his eyes. Roman couldn’t stand it, he didn’t need sympathy, he needed something no-one could give him back.
“Roman,” He said, tone flat.
“And your surname>?” he prompted. Someone behind him in the line huffed in annoyance. Roman’s hand worried a frayed seam in the jacket - he would have to fix it when he got home, he couldn’t lose this too. The last thing Virgil had given to him.
Not the last.
“Roman Garcia,” He said, trying to sound confident. The man nodded with a smile and wrote down his name before waving him off.
Roman Prince had left England hand in hand with the person he loved, waving to no-one aboard the Ship of Dreams, full of hope and excited for the future - they both had been.
Roman Garcia stepped onto the grounds of America alone, hand and heart equally empty, from a ship that had been the only one to answer their call for aid. A ship that had not been fast enough to save him.
----
Tags: @full-of-roman-angst-trash @your-local-random-dino @cutebisexualmess @glacierruler @roseianxiety @bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti @scalesfeathersnfur @oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat @littlerat2 (if anyone wants to be added, let me know!)
#sanders sides#prinxiety#roman sanders#virgil sanders#major character death#sanders side fic#ts roman#ts virgil#sanders sides fanfiction#rowans writings
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Good morning, afternoon, evening to all!
I just wanted to let all of you know that this blog is once more up and running!!
Unlike before, I will be taking asks for any of my aus, so feel free to drop an ask if you liked one of my fics and have a question to ask a character, or just something nice to say!
I'm very bored, I'll probably respond to just about anything you send to me here, lol.
-Rowan
#rowans writings#ask blog#sanders sides#sanders sides fanfiction#rowan rambles#ts sides#tss#please man i just wanna answer asks lmao
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"stop talking like that boy you're ruining my tboy swag" - yami bakura, probably
or, when both bakuras are trans but only one of them has perfected the trans voice.
+ bonus thief king (as a treat)
#yugioh#yu gi oh#ygo#bakura ryou#yami bakura#thief king bakura#rowan art#TKB has so much transmasc swag it's INSANE.#guy walks in with his hard-earned muscles dripping butch energy and then reincarnates into a gay little boy who talks very politely.#*TKB tearing his hair out* SPEAK UP SPEAK UP SPEAK UP FOR THE LOVE OF APEPI YOU ARE FAILING TO COMMAND THE ROOM.#where is your anger. where is your manspreading. where is your KILLING INSTINCT. RISE. RISE. RISE.#meanwhile ryou is just sitting here like um. i appreciate it but . i'm not into all that. thank you#ryou not being hypermasculine to compensate for his transness is incomprehensible to TKB who fought tooth + nail to be recognised as a man.#yes i Am writing fic about these two no it is Not good thank you and goodnight#rowan.txt
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sleep, pretty darling [ dallas winston x f!reader ]
synopsis : you're overworking yourself with studying in preparation for exams, and dally isn't havin' it.
contains : academic overachiever reader, whipped dallas winston, mostly just tooth-rotting fluff, notes : first writing post on here, kinda (very) nervous!! think i'm gonna make a point to write for each greaser in effort to shoehorn my way into outsiders tumblr?? yeah??? okay, GREAT. 99% chance i post something different for dal tho. just a messy, silly little drabble. ironically wrote after not sleeping for 32 hours. i'm sorry if he's a lil ooc y'all, this is my first dal fic in give or take a year!!! he'll get there, i promise! mwah mwah hope u enjoy
warnings : not proofread, we die like dally
i.
PALE BLUE EYES slant sideways, casting a brief look at you.
Your nose is scrunched in concentration over the comically large textbook laid open in your lap. You're hunched over, tracing under each printed word with your finger, thumbing down when you stop to take a note.
Dallas is preemptively annoyed. He's been leaning expectantly against the doorframe circa ten seconds ago, and you're yet to notice him. He takes one last dramatic drag from his cigarette before begrudgingly discarding it on the outsole of his shoe.
The creases on on your nose tighten as you catch a whiff of the wafting smoke. Though a vehement anti-smoker yourself, you've spent enough time around the gang to guarantee your lungs at least a permanent char. Despite this, you always just have to make a big song and dance of your distaste for them, and Dally does nothing to curb the quirk of his lips into a slight grin.
You have him, hook line and sinker.
"(Y/N)," he speaks at last. His tone is firm yet without underlying aggression; one exclusively for your ears.
You perk up.
Dallas' fingers splay against his lips as if holding a phantom cigarette. "What're you doin' over here so late, huh? Was out lookin' for you."
He watches as your gaze darts to the window. Nightfall has long since kissed the apex of Tulsa, yet you hadn't a clue. You'd been there for hours, crunching equations and fruitlessly jotting down formulas. The encroaching weight of finals week had rendered both your circadian rhythm and measure of passing time nugatory.
"Borrowin' one of Darry's old textbooks," you explain, the corners of your mouth tugging into a frown. "Not exactly a monastery but it beats that old Soc-infested library, long as Two stays gone, that is."
He crosses the Curtis' living room in four smooth strides, plopping down next to you on the couch. The flimsy cushion sinks beneath him, forcing you closer to him, and for once, Dally's grateful for the pathetic old thing's lack of structural integrity.
He lifts the textbook, ignoring your whimper of protest and sets it on the coffee table. He spins the silver band on his knuckle, averting his gaze downwards. "You know, sweetheart," he pauses, choosing his words. Dally wears his worry uniquely, sparingly. "I'm not particularly likin' all of these.. these books, and.." he trails off, thumb tracing your newly-formed eyebag as if he could swipe it clean. "When's the last time you got any sleep?"
Things are different. You're his girl now. And not just his pretty skirt for the night and until 7am after; no, this is serious. You're his girlfriend. His lover. It's foreign. It's enthralling.
No one had told poor Dallas that falling for you would unwind a deep vortex in his brain that noticed the trivial things, like how suspiciously little you blinked or how the vibrant pink in your cheeks had drained.
You lean into his touch with an exasperated sigh. "Dally, c'mon, don't you start this. I know it's nothin' to you, but it's finals week!" you huff. "I'll catch up on the sleep, swear it! I just, I got so much left to do here, and,"
Your defense falls on deaf ears. This has been it for weeks now; and the you-sized hole burning in his chest is only getting deeper. Dally's arms encircle your waist as he taps gently on the small of your back. "Don't give me that," he sighs. "God, baby, you're worryin' me, alright? Don't like seeing my girl so..." he fans his hand outwards.
As you tense and start to fly into another excuse, he shakes his head, mind already made. He's sparing no more of your attention. "You're comin' back to Buck's with me, alright?" His timbre leaves no room for argument, but you squirm regardless. His grip on you tightens. "And I'm making sure you get some goddamn rest."
You pout, looking over at your textbook as if it would personify and save you. "But," you start, only to be hastily shushed.
"But nothin', doll. C'mon, up ya go,"
With that, he scoops you up, one arm hooking around your legs. Your series of half-hearted protests are nullified as he secures you into Buck's old truck, movements careful yet hasty. You inevitably surrender, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you lean back into the torn leather.
BUCK MERRIL'S HOUSE is as quiet as Buck Merril's house is capable of being. You've never been to Buck Merril's house, so you don't find it very quiet at all.
Running his hands over the blanket, Dallas spreads it out on the floor, smoothening out the crinkles and corners. They reform almost immediately and he sighs heavily, airing it out on the pummeled mattress in defeat. If he would have know he'd be conducting a full-scale kidnapping for the sake of your rest, he might have better prepared. Might have.
So, here's the thing, right?"
There have been girls in Dallas Winston's bed before.
There have been quite a few girls in Dallas Winston's bed before.
There have been zero girls in Dallas Winston's bed that he didn't bring into it with meaningless sex on the horizons.
You're no snob and he knows this, but now, it's the principle. Dallas Winston may sleep on a mattress deficient of ample springs and no top sheet, but Dallas Winston's girl should never. In spite his hazy, rose-colored, Y/N-centric world created under this roof, he knows he has to step it up.
As soon as he hears the faucet cut off, he's off his feet. He flings himself onto the mattress, hitching one leg up as he awaits the slow creek of the door.
And there you stand.
Dallas wonders what karmic debt is being paid off for him to deserve to see you like this. His lips part as he drinks in the sight of you like a man dying of thirst. You, in his lightly wrinkled grey tee that scarcely conceals your bare thighs. Your face glistens with renew, a few stray droplets racing down your forehead and cheeks. Even trammeled by exhaustion, you knock the wind right out of him.
You wear the moonlight beautifully. It traces each feature so delicately as you sit beside him on the bed. "I'm—," you start, but pause to let a little yawn. He practically melts beside you.
"I'm sorry I gave you such a tough time, darlin'," you continue, situating under the blanket. "You were right, I'm proper beat."
He smirks, propping his head up to look down on you. "As always," he notes, tucking a fly-away hair behind your ears. You roll your eyes and give him a playful jab, to which he winces in mock affliction. "Some nerve," he hums, thumb tracing your cheek.
You look at him, lips parting gently. This isn't Dallas Winston; that infamous, no-good hoodlum from the wrong side of the tracks. This is your Dally, someone you alone have the absolute pleasure of knowing.
"That's it," he whispers as you surrender to his side, nuzzling his neck. Your eyes are heavy, faltering by the second, yet your grip on him is unyielding. He's never felt a thing like this before, and he's quickly becoming putty in your careful arms. He's content to lay awake all night, watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest as slumber claims you.
His gangly fingers trace idly on your back, and he knows. He will never be the same.
#the outsiders x reader#dallas winston x reader#dallas winston#dally x reader#dally winston#the outsiders#sundayiminlove#felt cute might delete later#golden slumbers#dallas x reader#dallas winston fluff#dallas winston cuddles#dallas winston imagine#matt dillon#matt dillon x reader#♪ rowan writes outsiders!!
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Secret’s Out
Pairings: Rowan Laslow x gn!reader / Xavier Thorpe x enemy/ex!reader
Summary: Nevermore’s heir falls for the outcasted Outcast.
Warnings: Xavier is a bit of a bitch, slapping, suggestive themes, tooth-rotting fluff. Rowan’s nicknames are Obi-Wan and Row Boat because I said so. (Tagging @unfixqble)
Word Count: 0.7k
You were the crowned royalty of Nevermore, the school for Outcasts. Both literally and figuratively. Your great (x whatever) grandparents founded the school and you always got the highest scores in class. Everyone praised the ground you walked on. Once you accidentally bumped into someone and before you could apologise, they mumbled out sorries and kissed your shoes. You had to deliver an assembly on why kissing people’s shoes was wrong, weird, and downright disgusting.
But with you being, well, you, it came as a shock to the whole school when you turned down Xavier Thorpe’s proposal. He was the only one in the entire school that could even compare to you. But the news of you dating Rowan Laslow, the outcast of the Outcasts, made the school tremble. Seriously, there was an earthquake the day everyone found out. Pathetic fallacy at its finest.
Rowan rushed up to you the day after with scarlet filled cheeks and watery eyes. “I swear I didn’t tell anyone.” He said hurriedly and you scrunched your eyes together before widen them. “y/n?”
Your eyes wrinkled at the sides as you smiled widely, dimples on full display. “I don’t care that everyone knows, Obi-Wan.” You tiptoed up so you could kiss his lips. All of his worries flowed away with that single kiss until people surrounded you. Some booed, some cheered and clapped, but it was all static in your ears. “C’mon.” You held out your hand.
Rowan gave a lopsided grin and took your hand as you pushed through the crowd. The two of you were on cloud nine. Somehow even more in love with the other than before. Nothing could bring you down.
Nothing apart from Xavier.
A stack of papers dropped onto your desk whilst you were waiting for your History teacher. You looked up in confusion, meeting Xavier’s hard glare. Before you could speak up he raised his hand, stopping you. “That’s why you won’t date me?” He scoffed. “Rowan Laslow of all people?”
“Back off, Xavier.” You rolled your eyes. “I won’t date you because I’m not attracted to you.”
“Bullshit!” Xavier slammed his hands down on the drawings, paintings, and photos he dropped onto your table. “Did he drug you? Is this some fucked up Harry Potter thing?” He asked.
“Humble yourself, Xavi.” You stood up, pointing at him. She waved it away and in retaliation, you slapped him.
The whole class gasped as you retracted your hand in shock. Xavier looked at you, holding his cheek. “Fuck you.” He spat, storming out of the class.
-
You were lying on Rowan’s chest later that night, watching a movie on his laptop. You thought for a second, drawing circles on his abs with your finger before mumbling, “You know I love you more than anything, right?”
You heard Rowan laugh slightly, kissing your head. “I know. And I love you more, my moon.”
You smiled at his words, melting into him. “Wrong. I love you most.” You looked up at him with a grin, giving him a peck on the lips.
“Oh, yeah?”
“Oh, yeah.” You nodded surely.
“Prove it then.” Rowan murmured, kissing you.
You rose your eyebrows at him as he smirked. You scoffed, straddling him and kissing his neck. “You like that?” You asked after you left a hickey, gaining a moan from the boy underneath you.
He nodded, looking at you with a lustful gaze. “I love you more than you’ll ever know.” He whispered, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. You grounded down on his crotch, causing him to groan and blush. “y/n…”
“What is it, baby?” You asked, rasping, lips pecking and nibbling on his neck. “Use your words.”
“Please.” Rowan begged before the door slammed open with a bang. You jumped, falling into the floor as Rowan covered his top half. “Miss Weems.” He said in embarrassment.
“Excuse me. I don’t mean to barge in here, but the two of you know the rules. After nine o’clock, you stay in your own dorms.” Headmistress Weems said accusingly. “y/n, allow me to escort you to your dormitory.”
“Ms. Weems, I-“ You stopped at the look she gave you. “Bye, Row Boat.” You mumbled, kissing Rowan softly
“y/n.” Weems said sternly when the kids started to deepen.
You groaned and pulled away, whispering another ’goodbye’ before being lectured on all the way to the other side of the school.
#this is short but oh well#wednesday netflix#Wednesday#wednesday x reader#wednesday the series#wednesday tim burton#wednesday tv show#xavier thorpe x you#xavier thorpe x reader#xavier thorpe#rowan laslow x reader#rowan laslow#Rowan Laslow x you#gn reader#gender neutral#elijah writes#hope you like it Lucian
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sleepless in terrasen
@throneofglassmicrofics instead of final papers i wrote...this 🫣
prompts: Sleepless & Rapture & Elixir
word count: 1,059 (whoops)
warnings: NSFW CONTENT OOPSIES
enjoy!!!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She hadn't been able to sleep.
After two hours of tossing and turning, silken sheets rustling in agitation beneath her flushed skin, Aelin groaned in frustration and rolled out of her bed. Damn the man sleeping one door away from her. Damn his stupid sexy smirk and his stupid hot lips and his stupid big hands. Damn Rowan Whitethorn for kissing every coherent thought out of her head and locking the door behind him as he went to his own damned room.
Damn that gentlemanly tendency of his.
With a half-grunt, half-moan of frustration, Aelin reached for the small vial of medicine that she always kept with her whenever she traveled. Whether it was a long business trip with her parents and the rest of their government staff or a trip like this, a simple two-day drive from university back to her home, she always kept some sleep medication on hand. After nearly a decade of chronic insomnia, she knew how handy even a single does of that elixir was.
Fumbling in the dark, her hand soon closed around the familiar bottle. She quickly unscrewed the top, lifted the tiny glass bottle to her lips, and drank down the slightly-sweet medicine. After she placed the empty vial back on the nightstand, she tucked herself back into the very comfortable hotel bed, rolled onto her side, and waited for the familiar drowsiness to wash over her body.
Instead of sleepiness, though, a powerful wave of heat spread through her.
Shocked, Aelin flipped on the bedside lamp and grabbed the tiny glass bottle, squinting at the tiny print. Slowly, the words became clear.
Oh, fuck.
"Intensify Her Pleasure!" screamed the crimson lettering on the small black label. That wasn't her sleeping meds--it was a goddamn aphrodisiac.
And the need pulsing through her veins reared its head in full force, her nipples peaking to stiff little points at the thought of needing stimulation. Craving stimulation. From a certain pair of rough, calloused hands that had just recently gripped her hips as the man who owned them pressed her back into the wall and kissed a fire into her blood.
Gods. Aelin flipped the light off, dropped the bottle, and curled herself into a tight little ball under the sheets, willing the lust to calm itself down. Willing the image of Rowan's shirtless chest out of her--holy gods. Against her will, that image suddenly lost its pants.
And the fire in her veins burned brighter, demanding attention.
She stretched out, sliding the worn cotton shirt off her body. His shirt, its pine scent warm, comforting, familiar. Even the gentle rasp of the fabric against her peaked nipples sent a shudder through her body, and she lowered her hands to her breasts, gently circling the hardened buds. Harder. Rougher. Like she imagined Rowan would do if he wasn't so insistent on being a gentleman.
She didn't need him to be gentle with her.
As she slipped one hand between her thighs, Aelin couldn't muffle her soft moan. Fuck, she was so wet, turned on by the heated kiss, her need intensified by the damn aphrodisiac. Her fingers found her needy, throbbing clit, and she groaned, then grabbed a pillow and pressed it over her mouth, muffling her sounds. She should have been embarrassed that Rowan's name left her mouth in a broken moan as she slid two fingers into her pussy, but she wasn't. She wanted that man. Needed him.
And her fingers weren't nearly as good as she dreamed his thick, rough ones would be. Fuck. Breathing heavily, she reached her free hand into the nightstand drawer and grabbed her vibrator, switching it on to the lowest setting and trailing the bright blue toy over her nipples. She moaned louder, the sound muffled by the pillow, and slid it down her stomach, replacing her fingers with the vibe and flicking up the speed of the toy.
One more speed, love. Rowan's imagined voice filled her ears. That's a good girl.
"Rowan," Aelin moaned, pushing the vibrator harder against her clit and flipping on the suction as she flicked it up to its highest speed. "Oh my god, Ro!" Eyes closed, legs spread, fingers twisting her nipples with just the right amount of roughness, her body shook as she fractured, her orgasm tearing through her like wildfire as she pictured Rowan's darkened eyes gleaming up at her from between her legs.
Too slowly, she turned the vibe down and pulled it away, chest heaving as she caught her breath from the powerful orgasm. From the dream that had fueled it.
She really didn't know how she was going to manage spending six hours in a car next to Rowan tomorrow, as if she hadn't just pictured him devouring her pussy while she used her favorite vibrator. On the other side of the wall, she heard a faint shifting of sheets, as if Rowan was just as sleepless as her.
Though that couldn't be possible, since she was the one who'd just gotten off thanks to taking the wrong medicine.
"Aelin..." She jerked upright, half believing she was dreaming. As silently as she could, she pressed her ear to the rather thin hotel wall, listening carefully. On the other side of the wall, Rowan's bed creaked, and he groaned. "Fuck, Aelin!"
Holy. Fuck.
In a split second, Aelin made a Very Bad Decision. She pushed herself out of bed, tugged Rowan's shirt over her bare body, and went to the door that separated their two rooms. Knowing Rowan had left it unlocked, she turned the handle and quietly opened the door and stepped into his room before the embers still sparking in her blood could cool her impulsiveness.
In his bed, Rowan yanked himself upright, his sweaty chest glistening in the slivers of moonlight that spilled in through the gauzy curtains. His eyes widened as he took in her flushed, wild-haired appearance, her parted lips. Her breathing hitched as she drank in his bare skin and the bulge barely hidden beneath the sheets.
"Aelin?" he whispered. Rough, jagged, hopeful.
"Rowan," she breathed. Rough, jagged. Needy.
He pushed the sheets aside and stood, and her knees weakened even as the fire in her blood roared right back to life.
"Come. Here." A demand. A promise.
She dropped her shirt to the floor and did just that.
~~~
TAGS:
@live-the-fangirl-life
@superspiritfestival
@thegreyj
@wordsafterhours
@elentiyawhitethorn
@morganofthewildfire
@mariaofdoranelle
@rowanaelinn
@house-of-galathynius
@tomtenadia
@julemmaes
@swankii-art-teacher
@charlizeed
@booknerdproblems
@earthtolinds
@goddess-aelin
@sweet-but-stormy
@clea-nightingale
@autumnbabylon
@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell
@llyncooljones
@silentquartz
@aelinschild
@renxzs
#my writing#prompt fill#throne of glass microfics#throne of glass#aelin galathynius#rowan whitethorn#rowan x aelin#rowaelin#rowaelin fanfic#rowaelin fanfiction#rowaelin fun times hehehe
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Plss can you write more Rowaelin x reader, something with a pregnant reader where they are very protective, maybe a little smut at the end???
we won't risk you
poly!Rowaelin x Reader
Summary: Reader is pregnant, and starting to get fed up with Rowan and Aelin.
Word Count: ~1.6k
Warnings: smut, minor injury and blood, a bit of angst
A/N: yes absolutely! thank you for the request <3
Rowan, of course, figured it out first, detected the shift in your scent. You hadn’t been trying for a baby, but hadn’t not been. After all, the three of you were bound together for life.
Soon enough, extra food was being shoved at you, special teas, lots of fruit and vegetables. It was endearing. At first.
You never went out into public alone. If it wasn’t Aelin or Rowan, it would be Fenrys. Who was almost as bad as them, snarling at anyone who looked at you a second too long. Within weeks, all of Orynth knew you were expecting a babe. After the news broke, things got worse. Terrasen may be at peace now, but there’s still those out there who hold a grudge. According to Aelin and Rowan. When guards seemed to appear around you - in the castle, you put your foot down.
“I’m fully capable of protecting myself.” You hissed at them. Both of them stared back, completely unperturbed.
“We know.” Aelin said and you groaned.
“I don’t see you trailed by guards everywhere you go.”
Her eyes darkened slightly. “We won’t risk you. Both of you.”
“At least tell them to stay out of sight.” You muttered after seeing the expression on Rowan’s face. Pure determination. You wouldn’t be winning this fight. “Why can’t I just stay with you?”
“You’re going to sit in on state meetings?” Aelin raised a brow.
Last time you sat in on a meeting, half of them left with their tails between their legs. Diplomacy wasn’t your strong suit. Actually, it would be pure torture for you to have to sit there. “You have a point.”
-
You reached for the mug, pressing up on your toes, finally you were able to curl your fingers around the handle, gently easing it off the shelf before … it slipped crashing to the ground with a loud thud that seemed to ring through your head. That was the last straw. You scrambled to the floor, ignoring the bits of porcelain digging into your bare knees and started grabbing the pieces, tears streaming down your face. Everything seemed to be going wrong recently. The morning sickness had finally drifted away, but it was like a bad luck charm followed you. Just this morning you banged your hip against the corner of a tall nightstand, before opening a door too quickly and jamming your toe against it. The third strike - your favorite mug, broken. The one you drank out of every morning. You vaguely heard the door opening, and sensed panic coming from both of your mates - likely scenting the copper radiating from the small cuts. You didn’t realize you had cuts on your fingers, nor bits of porcelain sticking into your knees.
You felt Rowan’s hand on your shoulder, “put them down,” his voice was soft but firm.
“I just need to -”
Careful hands reached to take the pieces from you, but you clenched your hands around them and tucked your hands into your chest defensively. You hissed as they dug in, blood spurting up around them.
Rowan's fingers curled around your wrists, applying just enough pressure that you’d drop the pieces, and one hand curled under your knees, the other under your back as he carried you over to the couch.
He frowned, looking at the small pieces sticking out of your knees. When you went to take them out yourself, he swatted your hands away, ignoring your scowl.
“I’m pregnant. Not incompetent.”
“And you’ll let us take care of you.” Aelin’s hands were already cupping yours - somehow acquiring tweezers in the few seconds it took Rowan to carry you over to the couch.
“I need to clean that-”
“Stop.” Rowan cut you off. “You won’t go anywhere near it.” His voice was nearly a growl.
You could sense the protective instincts flowing through both of them. “It’s just a mug, I can clean it up.”
He glanced down at your knees, and your hands where they both were picking the small pieces out, before meeting your eyes again, as if to say really?
Tears welled up, and you will yourself not to cry again. It’s just a mug, you told yourself. That’s it. No reason for you to get so worked up about it.
They wiped away your tears, and the blood, and healed the small cuts on you - before dragging you to a healer to make sure everything was okay.
The healer could see the expression on your face, and shared a sympathetic smile when their backs were turned. “She’s perfectly healthy.” She told them, “no need to limit any activities, for now.”
You almost winced at the ‘for now’ portion. Rowan and Aelin would take that as right now. “Thank you,” you said instead, and let them lead you away.
After the mug incident, as you’d named it, they never let you out of their sight. Never. You were always with one of them, and only got time to yourself in the bathroom. Even then, if your bath was a bit too long one of them would knock either to check in or join you.
You nearly snapped one morning, tempted to call them excessive, to tell them to piss off, but a conversation replayed in your mind. Aelin telling you of Lyria, of how Rowan lost her, and you cooled your temper, focusing on taking some calming breaths.
Still, that was enough to have Aelin at your side immediately, scanning you for any signs of harm. They were especially sensitive to any bits of distress that might be coming from you, any sense that something could be off. “What’s wrong?” She frowned, a thumb brushing across your cheekbone. You leaned into her touch.
“Nothing,” you murmured.
“Liar,” she purred, and you saw the worry in her eyes. Aelin wouldn’t give up until you gave a satisfactory answer, that you knew for certain.
“It’s just a bit much.” All of the air seemed to leave your body as you watched her, watched for any reaction - sign of anger or upset or betrayal. But only confusion showed.
“What is?”
Gods, you didn’t know how to put it into words. How to put it into kind words. How to explain without coming off as ungrateful or a major asshole. “I’m feeling a bit stifled.”
“Do you want to go for a walk?” Her eyes lit up. Maybe she thought you’d been indoors too long. You swallowed the tinge of disappointment, that she hadn’t picked up on the real issue, and nodded. Let her wrap you up in a coat and scarf, despite the fact that it’s September and mild outside. No need for either of those.
Fae instincts, you reminded yourself.
-
“You’re tense.” Rowan put down the book in front of him. Your head was resting in Aelin’s lap. She stiffened, but her fingers kept running through your hair, movements never faltering.
“Of course I am.” You finally snapped. “I can’t take a deep breath without either of you hovering over me. I haven’t been alone in weeks.”
“Last time you were alone you ended up bleeding.” Aelin peered over to look at your face and you groaned.
“It was one mistake.”
“That won’t happen again.” She shifted both of you on the couch, so your back was pressed against her chest, and her hands started working your shoulders, releasing some of the tension you’d been carrying.
A moan left your lips. Arousal quickly filled the room - coming from both of them, so you moaned again. Testing their restraint, their control. Aelin’s hands drifted further down your arms, hooking underneath them to run her thumbs over the sides of your breasts. A shiver ran down your spine at the touch. Sensitive, they’d grown so sensitive over the last few weeks. And Aelin was well aware of that fact.
“Aelin,” you breathed, head thrown back against her.
“Yes darling?” Her thumb grazed over your nipple, and your back arched, mouth barely stifling a whimper. “So responsive,” she murmured, and repeated the action. You wanted her. So gods-damned bad. Both of them wanted her, both of them.
From the hungry look in Rowan’s eyes, the way his gaze monitored Aelin’s every move and your every reaction, you could tell he felt the same.
Intimacy had been … tricky, so to say. At first, they’d been terrified to touch you. You came up with a solution of your own, and let them catch you touching yourself inside the bath …
You were nearly there, your fingers circling your clit, soft whimpers leaving your lips, when a hand caught yours. Rowan stood there, his eyes blazing with lust, his body practically trembling. Aelin stood behind him, her expression near identical.
You snatched your hand away, “I was busy.”
Aelin had already taken her clothes off, “move,” she said softly, nudging you forward. You let her slip in behind you.
Rowan growled, but she grinned at him. “You were too slow,” and her hands started ghosting along your shoulders, thumbs brushing against your nipples.
“Aelin,” you breathed, “please.”
“I do love hearing you beg, darling.” She murmured, her lips grazing your ear, before her canines scraped alongside the column of you throat. You spared a glance to Rowan, and saw him exercising centuries of self-restraint, his hardness already showing. “You planned this, didn’t you?”
You didn’t get a chance to reply as one finger dragged up your folds, before gently circling your clit. You’d been so on edge for the last few weeks, that you threw your head back in a moan, cumming almost embarrassingly quickly.
Rowan didn’t bother toweling you off, and carried you right to your bed.
He took his time. Took so gods-damned long to prepare you that you dug your nails into his shoulder and told him you’d do it yourself if he couldn’t.
#rowaelin x reader#poly!rowaelin x reader#rowaelin x y/n#rowan whitethorn x y/n#rowan whitethorn x reader#aelin galathynius x y/n#aelin x y/n#aelin galathynius x reader#aelin x reader#throne of glass fic#throne of glass smut#throne of glass#throne of glass imagine#throne of glass x reader#not proofread#I've never been pregnant this is probably inaccurate#also I'm sorry I'm nearly incapable of writing anything without angst
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People who think that Rowan got into a relationship with Malakai just to fuck with amerie may have misunderstood what the phrase "forget Amerie" means.
#also that idea just sucks straight up lol#Like Rowan is FAAAR from a saint but even his brother hallucination shipped them be so fuckin fr lmao#Also i thought they were cute im sorry#despite them being kind of boring#anyways Rolerie endgame..?#heartbreak high#heartbreak high spoilers#heartbreak high season 2#heartbreak high s2 spoilers#rowan rambles#amerie wadia#malakai mitchell#mf was making googly-eyes at Malakai while writing forget ameria in the pit OPEN THE SCHOOLS!
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Into the Snake's Den
----
Things going missing in a household of four wasn’t uncommon, really. It was normal enough to misplace a sock on laundry day, or get one of your shirts mixed up with someone else’s and never see it again, or misplace one piece of jewellery from a set. Losing things was not out of the ordinary, what was out of the ordinary was just how often it happened for this particular household.
Logan theorised they potentially had borrowers, and if that was the case Patton was content to let them stay, though Roman had always brought up the point that who - or what - ever the culprit was, it was stealing items much too large to be a borrower. Patton had offered the idea that perhaps it was a fairy, or a spirit who lived nearby, in which case the group was even more eager to drop the issue.
That was until something important went missing a few weeks later.
----
| Ao3 |
Warnings: None as far as I'm aware
Pairings: LAMP, DLAMP
Word Count: 4548
Notes:
I wrote this entire thing in one setting with encouragement from some awesome folks in the big bang server - I love you guys, lol.
Honestly, naga!janus in a non-explicit fic is so underrated - I think there really needs to be more snakey cuddles when the opportunity is so perfect, lol.
----
“Hey Pat - have you seen my cloak?” Came Virgil’s voice, sounding loudly through the house.
“No, bud, I haven’t seen it!” Patton yelled back as he worked on dinner, “Have you checked with Roman? I know he likes to borrow it sometimes-?”
His voice got quieter as Virgil actually joined him in the kitchen.
“I’ve already asked him,” He said, “Thought you might’ve washed it or something without telling me.”
“Nope… laundry day is tomorrow.” Patton shrugged and Virgil groaned.
“Not again… that was my favourite cloak…” He mumbled, rubbing his face as he practically collapsed into the comfortable sofa next to Logan, who was reading a book on spells.
Things going missing in a household of four wasn’t uncommon, really. It was normal enough to misplace a sock on laundry day, or get one of your shirts mixed up with someone else’s and never see it again, or misplace one piece of jewellery from a set. Losing things was not out of the ordinary, what was out of the ordinary was just how often it happened for this particular household.
For the most part, it was things that weren’t really missed. Small things that didn’t matter all that much - little trinkets, an inexpensive belonging, usually something replaceable but personal. Sometimes it was more valuable items, jewellery - stolen especially from Roman and Virgil, who wore it most often - Art supplies from Patton or magical ingredients from Logan.
Less often, but still notably more often than would be considered normal, bigger things went missing. Items of clothing, blankets from their beds, even pillows, occasionally. Other belongings - occasionally personal things too - would go missing too and Patton would find that a portion of whatever he had cooked would go missing as if by magic when he turned his back enough that he had started simply making extra. This had all started about a year ago, too, which leant more to the idea that this was suspicious.
Today, it seemed, Virgil’s cloak had been taken. Patton could only assure him that they would get him a new one next time they went to the market. Nothing that had been taken had ever been returned.
Logan theorised they potentially had borrowers, and if that was the case Patton was content to let them stay, though Roman had always brought up the point that who - or what - ever the culprit was, it was stealing items much too large to be a borrower. Patton had offered the idea that perhaps it was a fairy, or a spirit who lived nearby, in which case the group was even more eager to drop the issue.
That was until something important went missing a few weeks later.
—-
“Something’s not right,” Virgil hissed as he shook Logan awake one night. Logan immediately got up, striking a match to light the candle on his nightstand and looking at Virgil - who’s eyes looked black in the dark.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know, something’s wrong, I feel it,” He whispered, following Logan as he stood. The others had learned early on in their relationship that Virgil’s intuition was incredibly good; when he said something wasn’t right, he was almost always correct.
Glancing around as Logan paused to think, Logan’s eyes settled on a charcoal drawing that Roman had done of the four of them he kept in a frame, “Have you checked on the others?”
“Yeah - they’re both sleeping,” That was protocol, when Virgil felt that something was off in this way - he’d check on them first.
“Alright, that’s promising - come on, we’ll check the casting room first.” Logan said. It was most likely that if something was wrong, that would be where it originated. A stray potion, a spilled pot of some ingredient messing with the aura of the place - not to mention Logan’s casting orb.
The casting orb was a simple yet fairly rare magic tool - it allowed witches, like Logan, and other magic users - to store certain spells, keeping them constantly in place. The one Logan owned was mostly used to protect their home from any malevolent forces, there was one to grant them luck and it cast a generally positive magical aura that made it easier for all of them to perform their respective magic.
When the pair entered the room, Virgil gasped.
The door that led out to Patton’s greenhouse was wide open and from its glass case, the orb was missing.
“Great,” Virgil said sarcastically.
“We have to get it back,” Logan said immediately, “Not only is it incredibly valuable and dangerous in the wrong hands, but it is essential to keeping the others safe.”
Virgil’s expression twisted into a frown, “How are we gonna do that? We don’t even know what took it.”
“I’ll - figure something out,” Logan said, already heading over to his bookshelf, “If you could wake up the others?”
—-
“What are we doing out here in the middle of nowhere at whatever time in the morning again?” Roman complained as he led them down a barely trodden forest path, cutting back branches with his shimmering sword - that also served as a torch to light their way. Virgil was wearing a spare cloak that Patton was also sheltering under, clinging to Virgil’s side as the shadows swirled around them. Logan held his softly glowing staff and read from a book as they walked.
“Left here, Roman,” Logan said quickly, “Sharply - and we’re looking for the creature that has stolen my orb.”
“Couldn’t this have waited ‘tll the morning?” Roman asked, veering left and swinging his sword in front of him to cut back brambles and clear a makeshift path.
Virgil huffed, “You know how important the orb is, Princey, don’t be stuck up about it.”
“I just need my beauty sleep- woah…” Roman’s voice trailed off.
“Yes, your highness,” Virgil says with an exaggerated eye roll, though he fell quiet as he came into line beside Roman. Patton squeaked and Virgil gently squeezed his shoulders.- trying not to pay attention to how the spare cloak was so scratchy and wasn’t the right size. Logan sighed.
“The trail goes in there,” Logan said, which none of them wanted to hear. Roman audibly groaned, both Patton and Virgil tensed.
“That’s a naga den, no doubt about it,” Roman said quietly, looking at the large, dark cave entrance that lay open wide before them. A warm draft came from inside. Virgil wouldn’t mind it so much if it weren't for the suspiciously bone shaped - sticks, they were definitely sticks, he just shouldn’t think about it too hard, and he should absolutely not mention that within Patton’s earshot, “How important didja say this orb was? Like - is it worth our lives?”
The book in Logan’s hands snapped closed and he placed it carefully into his bag, placing both hands onto his staff instead, “We will not die as long as we do not mess this up.”
“And how exactly do we do that, specs?” Virgil asked gruffly - because how the fuck were they supposed to deal with a naga? Sure they were all magic users, but they weren’t that powerful.
“Well… Nagas are possessive, dangerous creatures,” Logan says, “Though their main defences are their tails and fangs, so long as you avoid getting caught in its tail you should not get hurt, hopefully, it will be sleeping and we will be able to sneak in to get the orb.”
“Don’t they have the best sense of smell and hearing like… ever, though?” Virgil asked, still looking at the cave, “And other crazy magic?”
Patton shivered, “Would- would it already know we’re here?”
“Well- It hasn’t come out to fight us, so I presume not,” Logan says, trying to placate, “If we can keep our spells and attacks ranged, we should all be okay.”
A dramatic sigh came from Roman’s right, “If you’d said that when we were at the house I would have brought my bow.”
Virgil glared at him, “You can channel magic through your sword, idiot.”
“Yeah - but the arrows are better-”
“Stop-” Logan commanded, both of them fell silent, feeling suitably cowed, “Unless you want to wake it up?”
With a sheepish look, Roman looked at his feet, “Right, sorry L.”
“Patton, you have your potions?” Logan asks a moment of silence later.
“Yep - they’re mostly healing, though, I also brought snacks.”
“Well - I suppose the healing will be useful just in case,” Logan sighed, “You and I will hang back, Virgil and Roman should go in first.”
“What- why?” Roman protests.
“Your spells need line of sight and aim, if we are ahead of you you will be heavily hindered, mine do not,” Logan said, Virgil raised an eyebrow and he sighed and continued, “You are also a heavy hitter, and your shadow teleportation ability will make it easier for you to dodge, especially in a shadowy cave, plus you can see better.”
Virgil sighs, but doesn’t say anything - that reasoning is pretty sound., he supposed.
“Are we ready?”
—-
The cave was dark, but unlike Virgil had expected, it didn’t necessarily smell bad, nor was it super damp - though it was a little humid, he supposed a naga would enjoy that. The tunnel into the cave was fairly long, enough to make Virgil more and more nervous as they slowly and near silently traversed it, their path only lit by Roman’s sword. Something on the ground caught his eye and made him stop, Patton almost walked into him and whispered a quick ‘are you alright’ to him as Virgil bent down to pick it up.
“Ro,” he whispered, “Light?”
Roman moved his sword closer to the thing Virgil had picked up, a small purple gemstone on a hooked wire, “I swear that’s familiar,” Roman whispered.
“It’s my earring,” Virgil says as they continue to look at it, “The one I lost like a month ago?”
“Does that mean…” Patton whispered, before Logan nudged them both and put a finger to his lips, before pointing ahead of them.
“Oh..” Roman whispered. A short ways ahead of them seemed to be the entrance to a much larger chamber, from which warm light seemed to spill into the tunnel. The four of them exchanged glances. Virgil especially shivered looking at it, that didn’t look like a particularly shadowy cave to him. “hm- before we go in, just in case we don’t come out.”
Logan tried to protest against Roman’s volume before he was pulled into a gentle kiss. When he pulled away, Logan had a fond look on his face. Meanwhile Roman turned to Virgil and then Patton and did the same thing.
That felt far too much like a goodbye.
“Roman-” Virgil whispered before Roman was striding towards the chamber entrance, Logan reaches to grab him and pull him back but misses the back of his shirt by an inch. Virgil glances back at the other two and hurries after him, not about to let Roman be a self-sacrificing idiot for their sake.
—-
When Roman reached the entrance of the chamber, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting and stopped short, rather than rushing in as planned.
A naga, of course, and that’s what he saw, but he’d expected an intimidating, hissing creature, with coils and coils of tail ready to strangle or crush them, hissing with fangs ready to paralyse them with venom, he’d expected something dark and uncomfortable, not…
“Is that my shirt?” He asked dumbly to noone, only for Virgil to punch him in the arm for speaking so loudly, he turned to pout at him briefly before looking back at the scene before him.
There was a naga, sure, and he was a little intimidating just for that fact, but really… Roman couldn’t force himself to be scared when he tried.
He did have a mass of scaly tail that Roman was certain was strong enough to crush his bones, but right now it was coiled up and half buried in blankets he recognised, blankets, sheets, clothes and pillows that had been periodically going missing from their house. The naga’s tail was covered in shimmering gold and black scales, the gold glittering in the gentle light that filtered into the cave via some kind of magic and the black was iridescent. His torso too was a golden tan, flecked with the same shimmering yellow scales as his tail almost like freckles and cascades of soft looking warm brown hair obscured half of his face.
In the naga’s arms was another pillow, though this one was dressed in what Roman was certain was one of his shirts that had gone missing fairly recently, his forked tongue was half out in his sleep in a frankly adorable ‘blep’. Roman found he could fathom fighting this creature less and less with every little detail he noticed.
“This is…” Virgil whispered next to him.
“Everything we’ve lost,” Patton finished, nodding.
“But why?” Logan asked quietly, ever curious. Roman nodded, unable to help agreeing with the question - why did the naga want their things? Was this weird? Maybe a little, Roman thought it was almost cute.
Roman turned his gaze to Logan as he seemed to scan the room, before his eyes settled on something, “The orb,” he whispered, pointing, “It’s over there.”
Right, that’s what they were here for, Logan’s orb. Roman followed his gaze to a small pile of trinkets across the room - all Logan’s things. His gaze slid to the other piles scattered around, there was one for each of them.
“I’ll get it,” Roman said eventually, already going to step forward before Virgil put his hand on his arm.
A twisted, anxious expression was on his face and Virgil looked like he would rather be doing anything else right now, but he still said, “No - let me - I’m quieter.”
“Maybe,” Roman says softly, “But you don’t want to.”
“I don’t want you to be killed either-”
“I can take care of myself, V, it’ll be okay,”
Patton shushed them hurriedly and the four of them turned to look at the naga, who murmured something and hugged the pillow closer whilst his tongue flicked out against it to smell the air, though he seemed to still be asleep. Logan seemed to realise something.
“This room is full of our scents already,” Logan whispered, drawing the attention of the other three, “It might not even notice we’re here - but we should still hurry, just- do rock paper scissors if you have to.”
Roman turned to Virgil with a grin and held out his fist, Virgil rolled his eyes like this was a stupid idea but joined him in the game anyway. Roman won. He barely resisted crying out in victory, but he did punch Virgil affectionately before he smiled at the others and began making his way slowly around the edge of the chamber.
Halfway there, the naga stirred again, but simply nuzzled into the pillow with a yawn that showed off his massive fangs, the mass of tail shifted, but he still didn't wake up. Roman put even more effort into being quiet until he reached Logan’s pile, picking up the shimmering orb carefully with both hands. He made eye contact with Logan before throwing it across the room. He almost laughed at the panic in Logan’s eyes as he casted a levitation spell on the small ball and brought it slowly back to himself, placing it carefully into the bag. Logan glared at Roman, who shrugged and took a step to make his way back. Having been looking at Logan, though, and not his feet, Roman found himself accidentally stepping on something that cracked under his foot. Loudly.
A wave of panic washed over him as the naga’s pointed ears pricked and he woke, this time his eyes blink open slowly and his gaze immediately locked onto Roman - he can’t help but think what striking colours they are. One is a striking gold, just like his scales, the other is almost black, but shimmering with an iridescent rainbow. Roman thought he ought to be worried about how he was about to die as the naga tasted the air, but he was frozen on the spot. Barely a glance at his lovers showed that they were terrified as well.
For a moment, he and the naga simply stared at each other and he mentally begged the others to run. In a blink, and that’s really how fast it was - Roman couldn’t have possibly reacted - the naga struck, coiling his tail around Roman and lifting him from his feet. Of course he struggled, but the naga was strong and he had dropped his sword when the tail had wrapped around him, there was nothing he could do as he was brought face to face with the - admittedly incredibly beautiful - creature. He wanted to look at the others, but he also didn’t know if the naga knew they were there - and if he didn’t then Roman didn’t want to draw attention to them. If he was going to die here, he would have to make sure they could get out.
He had expected the naga to squeeze him to death, maybe sink those razor sharp fangs into Roman’s skin and kill him slowly. The naga drew closer and flicked his tongue to smell him, Roman squeezed his eyes shut in preparation but no pain came, instead he felt cool lips pressed to his forehead. It was then that he realised a few different things at once.
First, the naga didn’t want to kill him - he would have done so by now. Second, his scales were cool and smooth where they pressed up against Roman’s bare arms, his tail wasn’t squeezing too hard. Though Roman couldn’t really struggle or escape, he could breath easily, it felt more like an embrace. Third… the naga had just kissed him. Now he was being stared at with a look that seemed like hopeful awe.
“You…” Roman whispered, not being able to come up with words to express what he wanted to say - which was rare for him. Why was this beautiful thing looking at him like he hung the stars?
One of his hands came up to cup Roman’s face and he found himself leaning into it purely on instinct. The naga’s hands were cool and half scaled and it felt nice against his warm skin - and Roman had never been one to shy away from touch. Roman was passed then from the naga’s tail to his arms, where he was cradled against his strong chest. Despite the fear he had felt mere minutes ago, Roman couldn’t help the way his brain was screaming ‘safe’. He curled into the embrace.
“Mine,” the naga hissed in Roman’s ear, his voice smooth and warm like melted chocolate, the sound made his breath hitch, “Ssssmokey one, you are ssso warm.”
“Let him go!” Patton's voice comes from the entrance to the chamber. Both Roman and the naga turn heads to look at him. Logan seemed to be trying to get Patton to be quiet and Virgil looked to be mid-panic attack. Roman felt a little bad. The naga moved closer to them and Patton tensed the closer he got.
“He isss not hurt,” the Naga said, voice gentle as he turned a little to show Roman to them. Roman gave them a little wave and it seemed to placate the three of them just a little, “The little human iss but mine - and sso are you, my gems.”
His tail quickly hoists Patton into the air as well, but leaves his arms free unlike he had with Roman. Patton squeaked, flailing a little until he too realised he wasn’t being killed. When the naga drew him closer, he reached for Roman’s hand, he quickly took it.
“Put them down,” Logan said, voice monotonous but hiding a venom that Roman could recognise, “We are not yours to hoard.”
“You are mine to love, little witch,” The naga says, “My little humans,”
Patton and Roman both found themselves lowered into the centre of the admittedly amazingly comfortable nest. Roman immediately scrambled over to Patton, pulling him into a gentle hug as the naga turned his attention to Virgil and Logan. Although they had been freed from his hold directly, they were still separated from the others by coils of the Naga’s tail, so they simply sat and waited.
A stretch of silence passed as the naga’s eyes tracked Virgil curiously - the normally vigilant light-wielder didn’t seem to notice, focused on searching for something in the mass of blankets instead.
“What are you looking for, little one?” he asked, curling himself around Virgil and making him jump badly and look around to face him. Virgil seemed to freeze, but the naga remained as passive as ever.
Another silent moment passed, “...my cloak,” Virgil admitted softly, “The big one you - you took a few weeks ago.”
Barely a moment passed before the naga slithered to a spot and dug through the blankets to pull out a mass of black fabric, decorated with purple embroidery which he brought back to Virgil - who stared at him in surprise and wonder.
“I liked this one,” the naga said, placing it around Virgil’s shoulders. Virgil immediately let out a sigh of relief, practically melting into the fabric, “It'sss big.”
“Yes,” Virgil said quietly. The naga offers him a hand that he tentatively takes and Virgil is carefully lifted to stand on a coil of his tail, steadied by the naga’s hand as he’s brought to join Patton and Roman, who accepted him into their hug gently, earning a fond smile from the naga, who then turned his attention back to Logan, who was growing less and less steadfast in his resistance by the moment.
“You haven’t usssed that on me yet,” the naga says almost conversationally, gesturing to Logan’s faintly glowing staff - which he was clutching like a lifeline, “What are you waiting for, little witch?”
“I-” Logan faltered, “You…”
The naga hummed, “Will you join uss, little witch?”
Logan frowned, pausing, “What is your name, naga?”
A smile spread across the naga’s face, “I am called Janus,” He answers, voice still gentle.
“I am Logan,” Logan says, “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Ssso polite,” Janus hisses, edging forwards toward him.
“You’ve been stealing from us for months.” Logan backs up a step and Janus pauses, “Why?”
This seemed to give Janus pause, since he actually stopped to take a second and think about his answer. Roman found he was curious as he grabbed a red fluffy blanket - one of his favourites that he had lost - from the top of the pile and wrapped it around his shoulders. For that he earned a pat on the shoulder from Virgil and a kiss to the cheek from Patton.
“I wanted my humans near me,” Janus said eventually, “But you would not come, I had to make do.”
Roman couldn’t quite work out whether that was absolutely adorable or kind of sad.
“Is that why you took my orb?” Logan asked, taking off his bag and placing it carefully behind him. Proceeding to carefully put his staff down with it, “So we would come here?”
Janus looked away, an almost embarrassed expression overtaking his face. Roman couldn’t help but share a smile with his loves. Virgil smirked back and Roman just knew from that look he was holding back from teasing the naga that technically had them hostage and vulnerable viciously. “Perhaps.”
“You could have simply approached us,” Logan said, his tone minutely softer.
Janus raised an eyebrow and simply gestured to his tail, which took up the majority of the large cavern.
“Right,” Logan said, frowning, “Yet you managed to sneak into our house to steal?”
“Nagas have magic too, little witch,” Janus hissed, finally approaching him properly, carefully and slowly wrapping his coils around him to lift him and place him in the nest with the others. Logan seemed curious, but Janus didn’t seem willing to elaborate as he placed Logan in their little circle. Patton immediately reached for him.
Meticulously, Janus picked over the four of them, taking their weapons and adding them to a small pile as well as anything breakable or uncomfortable. Roman had difficulty giving up his sword’s sheath - even if the sword itself had been left on the floor of the cavern already, but Janus promised it would be safe in his hoard and lifted Roman gently so he could see where he placed it. The others were easier to disarm, especially Logan - who had already left his things at the door, so to speak.
When he was done he coaxed the four of them to lie down with a gentle voice and soft, alluring words, promising them safety and comfort as he buried himself once more in the blankets, laying himself down so he wrapped the four of them in his coils and his human torso could lie amongst them, allowing himself to wrap his arms around Roman and for Virgil to share his cloak. Logan held Virgil carefully from behind and Patton found himself laid across all four of them, his head in Roman’s lap and his feet in Logans.
“My little ones,” Janus whispered as the lights above them dimmed, a hand carding through Virgil’s hair where his head rested against Janus’ shoulder, his lips brushed Roman’s forehead and he reached to brush a hand over Logan and Patton’s faces in turn, “My lovely humans.”
Patton let out a content hum and squirmed a little to get comfortable, Roman heard Logan let out a happy sigh.
“So warm, so sweet,” Janus hissed softly as he tugged Roman closer, burying his face in his shoulder. Roman had always run the warmest of the group.
Patton fell asleep first, and then Roman next. Logan fell next, with a little gentle coaxing from the naga until it was just Virgil.
—-
“You are still scared, little gem,” Janus said softly, brushing the hair from Virgil’s face, “My little amethyst, what scares you?”
It takes a long time for Virgil to answer and in that time Virgil meets his eyes and Janus knows without him saying a word that it’s him Virgil is afraid of still.
“How do I know you won’t turn on us while I sleep?” Virgil asked, even despite his fears his voice is still quiet so as not to wake the others, “How do I know they’re safe.”
“I will protect them,” Janus says softly, leaning forward and kissing Virgil’s forehead. Roman makes a soft sound and shifts in his sleep, one of his arms wraps around Janus’ waist and he sighs contently, “I love you all, my sweet ones, I will protect you, I promise.”
“How do I know that?” Virgil insisted, “How do I know you’re not lying.”
“Do you have a bad feeling about me, my amethyst?” Janus asked softly, cupping Virgil’s cheek with a hand.
Virgil takes a long moment to consider, before he eventually shakes his head. His eyes are wide.
“No,” he says softly, meeting Janus’ eyes again, “I think you’re good.”
“Then trust me, little human,” Janus hissed softly, the sound practically luring Virgil to relax. He takes a deep breath and… does.
Virgil falls asleep with the others and Janus keeps his promise.
----
Tags: @full-of-roman-angst-trash @your-local-random-dino @cutebisexualmess @glacierruler @roseianxiety @bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti @scalesfeathersnfur @oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat (if anyone wants to be added, let me know!)
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#sanders sides#sanders sides fanfiction#dlamp#virgil sanders#patton sanders#logan sanders#roman sanders#janus sanders#fanfic writing#fanfiction#fanfic#rowans writings
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a deep breath escapes the predator’s lips as he swallows one final time, sending the love of his life down his gullet. his eyes are closed and he purrs, feeling the man slip down his throat, massaged by the muscles of his esophagus and gently squeezed down, down….
it’s a nice sensation, isn’t it? the feeling of someone slipping down your entire being. rowan can feel luke slip further and further within him, and it’s all he can focus on. the tightness that slips through his chest and downwards is comfortable, and his hand rests on his expanding middle, the shape perfectly round to match luke’s shifted size. he’s slowly being filled with someone who loves him, someone who cares about him for himself. luke enters his resting place completely; his home. right where he belongs. rowan’s stomach is where he should be. where he will be.
his stomach is firm to the touch. luke’s body rested inside, beneath his skin. he settles in, sinking into his stomach and it takes everything within rowan to not lose his mind. he’s excited. he’s in love. he almost wishes he could swallow him down all over again. he can’t help but stare down at the roundness his lover brings to his core. luke, his perfect prey, rests just a few centimeters underneath his skin. he was standing in front of him only moments before, and now he was locked away, safe, warm, and right where rowan needs him.
the predator gently rubs the surface of his rounded belly, leaning back against the couch he sat on and relaxing. he’s full now, and the tight fullness of his belly meant that luke would always be there for him whenever he needs him. it’s an absolutely beautiful thing.
“i love you.” he whispers to his stomach, to the man inside him. luke shifts slightly, pressing out against his round middle. the predator chuckles, brushing his fingers over where his skin stuck out. another deep exhale escapes his lips.
perhaps luke can stay, for a day or two. perhaps more, if he’s willing.
#v0re#soft vore#safe vore#vore writing#male pred#male prey#sots#size on the side#luke#rowan#half size vore
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Have a treat of flats
#rowan’s art#acotar#nesta archeron#neris#eris vanserra#everytime I draw them dancing I want to write#then I do#and it’s not quite what I want it to be#like#its a covert affair they’re having#and she uses the excuse of wearing more and more red “for Cassian#but girlie is flirting with that autumn court heir#with gold jewelry the same color as his eyes#with citrines topazes and rubies taking over her jewels#and anytime there’s a ball in the hewn city they dance at least three times#longing hands releasing their hold on each other at the last possible second
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sso loading screen text "remember that knowledge is power".... imagine the power if the writers knew the lore of the game
#no offense to the likely 1 sse employee doing their best with actual lore but the way they changed bonnys writing was insane and#all the retconning and random shit like when scott was randomly generic evil man in some josh quest#and the shitty dialect things in general like rowan bc that shit doesnt even translate to other langs well its both badly written and not -#- even a good idea whatsoever for a multilanguage game that isnt just in english from the start. but also its just stereotypical and bad#bonny was written charming and interesting and it was really unnecessary to retcon her into this scottish stereotype dialect#and while sometimes they do bring proper stuff from the existing lore like devils gap and turn it into something... theres still-#- a million things that couldve been done better both in the current writing and the old writing as well! it was always a mess#like the ice wraiths of golden hills or whatever theyre called. the dino valley yeti and witch stuff being hinted but abandoned. etc#but they shouldve gotten someone to *read* all that and take notes and try to turn it into something good and more complete.#rather than getting ppl going lol lets change lots of stuff around it will be great (proceeds to make it worse)#disclaimer idk whose fault all of that is but i blame johan sjöberg for being a bad manager of this games potential and#also the whoevers that have had any power to direct and plan and manage shit at that company
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rowan’s last two braincells eking out the idea that this is probably the house of the vampire that attacked him. 👏
#ts4#ts4 screenshots#ts4 legacy#ts4 legacy challenge#ts4 joy of life legacy challenge#ts4 story#;tjol3#sim: rowan#sim: alsace#(squeezes his booty)#||#rowan has all of two braincells#i forgot that i already chose kratos as alsace’s va and it’s just… it makes so much sense#i am honestly having so much fun with this lil story bwuh#we’ll get back to gameplay-style with this soon#but the intro of rowan to forgotten hollow is Importanté#i am so glad you’ve all been enjoying it 🥹#my writing means so much to me sobbb#but yes hmmm… a kitchen… 👀#alsace has a lot of history stored up in there#i’ll give you one hint: he’s much older than you think#yes you 🫵 i kiss ur lil head
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The ineffable and ever-mysterious Cover Anon, who's gifted me not one but five fic covers for Shanties, has done it again, with the most stunning cover for my recently completed Mnemosyne, this time by the brilliant Checheven.
I am beyond words. What an incredible gift after finishing this fic.
#I am failing at writing articulate tags but this is so beautiful and it's SUCH A FANTASTIC COVER FOR THIS FIC#IT LOOKS LIKE A GENUINE NOVEL#THE COLOURS AND THE COMPOSITION#SHANKS AND MAKINO#AND ROWAN#(even Ceto I am cryinggggg)#I'm still recovering from the final chapters and this just came and swept my feet out#woke my husband up this morning to shove my phone in his face to show him this#but oh it's so bold and vivid and I love this artist's style so much#Makino is SO beautiful and serious Shanks is everything and the little menace herself is *perfect*#Cover Anon I...don't even know what to say??#I love all of these covers more than I can put into words and I will never be over this gift<3#Shanks x Makino#Red-Haired Shanks#One Piece Makino#Shanties for the Weary Voyager#Shanties art
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im so fucking good at making sexy little leverage aus and then never writing them. this is my ma spencer au, which has been lifted directly from my twitter with minimal editing, & which i am haunted by always.
ok so the au. this is going to be very long. every time i listen to spent gladiator 2 by tmg i think abt the leverage team/eliot specifically.
lyrics for context:
so i was thinking abt an au where eliot was never on the team, bc like. eliot fully got Out of the game, but interacts w them on an early case and ends up falling in with them anyways? BUT i also think a lot about how hard it'd be for any of them to retire bc there's people who hate them who know their faces, yknow? so how WOULD eliot be able to have retired &what has to change for eliot to be that comfortable getting out?
so i figure he maybe got out of the moreau situation earlier. maybe he broke up with the horse girl but they stayed on good terms, and maybe he never did the worst things he ever did for moreau because he had his Getting Out Of There chef connection moment sooner.
but that doesn't undo how recognizable eliot would be to various parties and i was like. well then. what if the chef who was that pivotal person for eliot was a trans woman and was as pivotal with eliot being gendery as she was with eliot retiring?
so like. early 2000s nonbinary/transfeminine he/she eliot spencer finding a few small towns to live in pretty at random but having a home in each one and cycling through them with no discernable pattern?? and being a loved part of the local queer community in all of them?
it's similar to my "eliot never left home and is luke gilmore girls but also co-created a queer bar in his town" au (aside: thank you @lycanqueer for pointing out that connection ages ago, i have been unwell about it ever since).
like . eliot!!!!! eliot probably first connecting with the team bc of the two horse job and slowly begrudgingly helping, joining in on the tap out job, etc.
eliot being like a parent figure to various queer kids in the different towns and they call him "ma spencer" and she wears his practical boots with flannels still but maybe they're with a more feminine tank top and maybe you're as likely to see ma spencer in a no nonsense knee length skirt as a sturdy pair of jeans. and maybe sometimes he braids her hair . and she's mr. spencer too and well respected by the folks of whatever town he's staying in, too stubborn and helpful and intimidating not to be!
eliot being openly down for a casual relationship both with parker and hardison from when she first gets to know them onward—and him keeping his past quiet still, but it getting harder to keep the parts of her life seperate as he finds herself getting closer with the team & with more serious feelings for parker and hardison.
maybe the team's hitter is Tara? i feel like she's capable of that? but she has to be the grifter when sophie goes on her break and eliot joins in "Just Once" but it ends up being more than that.
eliot would have a lot of complicated feelings abt joining in—like, both being happy with the peace she found & not wanting to risk that but still feeling like he needs to pay penance and that this is a way to do that.
and then season 3 hits completely different. i think this eliot would talk about his past once she found out they were targeting moreau, but i think team dynamics would overall be super different in general. the team would be way less of a unit with nate than when you see things from his perspective—espeicially without eliot always there to insulate the team from the worst of him.
anyways im gonna be thinking about this for the next 800 years. will i ever write this fic? probably no. but ma spencer is so real to me
#leverage#eliot spencer#eliot#leverage ot3#jam posts#leverage posting#shoutout to skip and rowan for probably having seen this on twitter#writing this up i realized my eliot's queer bar au only lives there also#ma spencer au#ma spencer
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Wrote a short lil Ares fic, only 741 words! And coincidentally the 250th work in the Underland Chronicles tag on AO3. Which is wild. Anyway. Hope y'all like it!
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