rowankingsleyy

[rowankingsleyy]

dulcedulcedulce​:

..

The surprise in Rowan’s face caught Acacia off-guard. Surely the other woman was fairly well-known in the town. There couldn’t be a single person in Red Ridge who hadn’t given in to the temptation Impulse offered. Her cheeks brightened at Rowan’s recognition - was she really there that often? Of course, she knew the answer was yes. It was amazing that the staff didn’t think she was a nuisance. “Acacia,” the woman answered, taking the offered hand. “I should be thanking you for not kicking me out,” she countered easily. It was true, after all. Impulse had been a port in a storm for her, over the last few months, especially. “It’s nice to meet you too! And please know, I really do appreciate your letting me hang around Impulse.” 

--

Rowan shook the woman’s hand firmly, but easily--something she had thought far too much about in the past, particularly as she was growing her business and attempting to sell her book.  “Oh hush, having you there is just a constant reminder that I’m not in the wrong place.”  Rowan laughed, her head falling to the side just slightly.  As most creatives do, she spent a good majority of her day convincing herself her art was worth public consumption and that she deserved success.  “I bet you could give me tips at this point--which I would actually appreciate, I experimented with orange and mint yesterday.” She scrunched her nose as if to signify a not so wise choice.  

#dulcedulcedulce #interactions. #i will get to the rest of the replies tomorrow! i just realized how late it is lol

[rowankingsleyy]

#{sweet as strawberry wine || warm as a glass of brandy}

[rowankingsleyy]

status: closed for @levyegorov​

location: impulse, 8pm

trigger warnings: rape mention, assault, vague eating disorder mention

Putting this under a read more because it’s pretty dark.

The young baker’s eyes darkened into forests, barring access to the man who dared trespass her beloved bakery that warm summer evening right before closing.  The woman’s muscles all went rigid as he approached, her eyes doing their damndest to focus in on the draped florals that hung from the domed ceiling behind him.  Her jaw clenched as she felt the draft he caused, reminding her of the way she hadn’t been able to avoid feeling him all those months ago.  God how he sauntered in made her want to shrivel up and die--like it was nothing, like his life hadn’t been affected by what he had done at all.  Because it hadn’t. She hadn’t had the balls to make it.  She wrecked her own life in response to his assault, and let him go free.

Calypsoed an already dead relationship, ruining a friendship in the process.  Shaved 20 pounds off an already petite frame just to feel something; to be able to control something.  Hid in her home for two months, letting whatever narrative had been spread about her live on like truth.  All while he carried on business as usual.  

“How can I help you?” Unusually chipper, her voice didn’t match her posture, the story her face told.  Before the incident, she would have loved to have someone from her life as a published author in the shop--to see her two lives interact.  But now it felt like power play; an intrusion.  She couldn’t let him have that power.  “Gimme your prettiest, Ro.”  A smirk in his voice and goosebumps scouring her skin--an instant flinch crossing her face.  But still, she moved to the glass case, opting for the cupcake the tourists flooded instagram with without missing a beat.  “What’s this I hear about you not doing a book tour?”  She didn’t have to turn around to see the perk of his eyebrow.  “Exactly what it sounds like.” The brunette tried to harden her voice, keeping her eyes averted.  Was she supposed to feel something in his disappointment? Was it supposed to intimidate her?  “Watch it.  Remember whose company signs your paychecks.” His voice hadn’t lost its smugness, the mention of money had never been too far off in their conversations after the incident.  Any time she had threatened to blow the whistle,  he threatened her career. 

 “I’m well aware of how important you think you are, Isaac.  But there’s nothing in my contract that says I’ve got to do a press tour.  I’m willing to risk the lack of exposure.”  She willed her eyes to his, back stiffening as to appear taller, more sure of what she was saying.  It had taken a lot to make the decision not to tour, and every time someone chastised her for it she got closer and closer to risking her mental health again for her career.   “What?  One book and you’re good? Got your little bit of fame and you’re satisfied? Shit, Rowan, I thought you had more in you than that.”  He teased, an edge to his tone--her nerves lighting one by one and then all at once.  How dare he pretend there was something innately wrong with her after what he’d done.  How dare he press on like it needed explaining.  

“Get out.”  Her voice came low and broken, the cupcake she’d chosen for him in one had and perfectly pretty packaging in the other--the hand with the packaging slamming down on the counter as she told him to leave.  “Just get out.  You have your answer.” She starred hard at him as his jaw visibly clenched and he forced his face to stay light.  He really thought it would work--the company must have really put the pressure on.  A few moments passed, and for a second there she thought she was going to have to threaten to call the cops to get him to leave but slowly, he turned and moved to the door with the same swagger he had sauntered in with.  Isaac stopped in the doorframe just as the woman thought she would be rid of him, that he’d given in.    “That’s the problem with girls like you, you know?  One little bit of success and you think you deserve shit--you don’t want to do the work anymore.  You were damn lucky to get the opportunity to do a book tour and release with our company once, much less twice.  You’re taking advantage of the kindness of the company and you know it.”  He spoke in a tone that made her skin crawl, before turning away from her in favor of the strip.  The company’s kindness, you had got to be fucking kidding.  Lucky?

Before she knew what she was doing, she too was barreling toward the door, cupcake in hand.  “Hey!” She called out, a raspiness to her voice she would pick apart for months to come.  Rowan waited a pulse for him to turn before rearing back and sending the cupcake flying toward him, traveling the 10 foot distance between the two.  The cupcake landed hard with a splat, frosting spreading the width of his cheek and onto his neck, even sending his face sideways a centimeter or two, the force of her entire body put into the throw.  “You raped me.”  The woman yelled in a strangled voice without looking around to see who was watching, rage searing every word as they hit the air, the edges of each curling under the heat.  But she felt a thousand times lighter having said it aloud, despite how her body was frozen in place, lurched forward and tense.  Acknowledging that it was real after months and months of being gaslit by him and herself.  After months of trying to go on like nothing had happen, cleaning up the mess she had made in the face of trauma.   “You raped me. Fuck you--I quit.  You can have the book, I’ll just write another one.”  She lifted her chin as if to make a point because yes it was that easy.  But it wasn’t.  It was stories she had agonized over for nearly a year, stories that covered her bedroom walls in senseless order until she had pinned them in place, characters she had grown to love--and hate.  And like everything else, he had taken them from her.  But she had to take control back or she’d find herself wasting away in her loft all over again.  

#interactions. #{your love might be my damnation || but I'll cry to my grave} #tw rape #tw eating disorder #tw assault #HOLY SHIT IM SO WORRIED I DIDN'T DO THIS JUSTICE

[rowankingsleyy]

#{sweet as strawberry wine || warm as a glass of brandy}

[rowankingsleyy]

— ft. rowan kingsley​:

《 𝓯𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓱𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴 ᵐᵃʸ ¹⁰ᵗʰ, ²⁰²⁰ 》

When Lev began speaking, Rowan truly did think she was going to be able to grin and bear it like she had done more than once before, her palms pressing hard into the metal hood of her Nissan.  The whole spiel about how it never should’ve happened, how it shouldn’t happen again–that she had heard so many times before she was nearly unfazed by it.  That she could steel herself through and make it to the other side like a professional.  But he kept talking; and as he kept talking the speech became individualized to him and the roots of it planted in her heart, weaving through her chest cavity like years had passed.

As he complimented her, she couldn’t even begin to process what it made her feel before it appeared on her face–her lip curling in disgust, and her feet prompt into movement by the words.  She slid off of the hood of the car, grabbing the plate of cookies and placing them on a standing ashtray in a one swoop movement.  Her eyes didn’t fall back on him until he’d finished talking, her standing at the ashtray with her arms crossed over her chest.  It wasn’t until her gaze reached his face that she realized why his rejection had wracked her resolve in a way it hadn’t ever before, it wasn’t until then that she understood what she was feeling.  It was disappointment.  Not in the situation, but in him. She had thought that he had seen her, and not just for all the feminine adjectives she used in her novels, words used to describe the ‘greatest girl ever’.  But for her strength, her ability to adapt, the way she navigated the polarity between the two worlds she knew so well with grace.  His words made it clear that he hadn’t, and that realization ripped those roots that had been deeply wound in her chest right out, her hand gripping at her chest as it manifested as a sharp pain shooting through her chest.  She had made it all up in her head, she had romanticized the shit out of him and was paying the price for it.  

“Okay” She spoke simply, already moving toward the driver’s seat of her car.  What else was there to say, what was she supposed to say?  ‘It’s okay, I understand why you wouldn’t even want to try’? She couldn’t bring herself to do it…but she also couldn’t bring herself to drive away without saying anything at all.  With her door open, feet grinding in the gravel she was parked on she looked at him again, opening and closing her mouth a few times as if she was at a loss for words.  The wordsmith stunned to silence.  

“Ya know…I could rip each and every one of your arguments to shreds but that would be just about pathetic enough to put me in my grave, so I’ll settle for this: I’m not naive enough to think that when you lay down in bed tonight you’ll think of me, but if I do happen to cross your mind tonight, do this for me.  Take a moment to comb over everything you just said and see if you can find any place where I was included in your narrative–and not as an excuse or a deflection.  See if you can find anything, because I sure can’t.”  The midnight haired woman spoke in a raspy voice, the wind catching her hair every so often as she spoke.   When she finished she shot him a sad grin, shaking her head as she moved to sit, but stopping midway to speak again.  “I’m not a kid so I don’t have very many ‘firsts’ left to record, but that was the first time someone’s used so many words to tell me they weren’t choosing me too.“  Rowan gave a tiny, airy laugh before sitting herself in her car and starting the engine.  

《 𝓯𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓱𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴 ᵐᵃʸ ¹⁰ᵗʰ, ²⁰²⁰ 》

                         Lev Yegorov wasn’t a man unknown to selfishness or unaware of its existance inside of him. He’d been raised in such a violent, traumatic — and later on cold and deciplined — environment that if it weren’t for his siblings and his need for self-preservation, he would’ve never made it to the other side sane. When he thought about everything he had achieved ( from carrying through his grandmother’s name, to becoming a well-respected fighter and a accounted for asset to the people of Valencia ) and the people he’d let in along the way… The thought of losing any of that shook his core with the kind of paralyzing fearthat took him back to being a little boy who didn’t yet know how to chase bad dreams away. An all-consuming emotion, igniting the need to do damage control before it’d even begun. It didn’t matter that her actual presence and influence did nothing but good to him. The man who led a life of risk couldn’t bring himself to risk losing Damien’s friendship or walk down the path of having Rowan become more and more important to him only so that he could inevitably lose her, too. Not because they could end like most relationships do, but because giving her his all meant sucking her into the blackness in the center of his heart, poisoning the rest of it like a vice that fed off other people’s blood to grow.

In that way, when it came to the after… He’d only thought of her when the aftermath came to mind. Lev was a firm believer that he couldn’t choose to share his life with someone just to ruin them or keep them at arm’s length. He’d lost friends to prison. He’d lost them to death way before their years. He’d witnessed their partners, people he looked after as if they were his own blood, swear and curse the moment they let themselves get into this mess. And, every time he went out there and did what was necessary, he lost a little piece of himself too. He could never escape or ditch that side of the organization — a side he thought wouldn’t phase him twenty years ago. But when it happened again, and again, and again… It took a toll on him. It’d take a toll on anyone with a conscience. He was a man who’d vowed to seize the day and give the people he loved all that he could, because chances were he’d be taken from them either by prison or death. Standing in front of the woman who made his heart sink and telling her the truth was the selfless choice. If he hadn’t included her in his narrative, like she’d just accused him of, he would’ve shrugged off the very real reprecautions of his actions and continued on with their secret, late-night meetings. He would’ve continued to lure her in by the seemingly free and careless front of his lifestyle until she got ruined by the blood on his hands or sought a way out — just because he wanted to be with her. He’d chosen her by letting her go.

“I’ve—” The man cleared his throat one more time. “I think of you almost every night.” It was like his voice had lost its vivid colors. He had a feeling that she was no longer listening. “I don’t think you believe me though.. Not when you talk about me makin’ up excuses.” It dawned upon him that, part of the reason why she looked so disappointed in him, was because she thought he was lying just to get her out of the way. The particular realization irked him. Why would she think that he was making shit up just to break up with her? In reality, he’d be making excuses if he stayed. “You clearly don’t wanna be here right now,” he murmured, his hands diving into his pockets. She made it clear by getting in the car and starting the engine. “I don’t blame you. But you’ve known me for a while now. If you hate me any less one of these days, ask yourself if I’ve ever lied to you or pretended about the slightest thing. Hope you at least know the answer to that.” His jaw clenched as his head lowered. “G’night, Rowan. I’m sorry.”

— 𝓔𝓷𝓭.

#interactions. #THIS TIME IM NOT GONNA FORGET TO REBLOG IT #{your love might be my damnation || but i'll cry to my grave}

[rowankingsleyy]

levyegorov​:

《 𝓯𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓱𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴 ᵐᵃʸ ¹⁰ᵗʰ, ²⁰²⁰ 》

                            Lev almost heard a pop the second the bubble around them burst. He watched Rowan’s whole stance, attitude and demeanor change, as a pained expression took over his own facial features. He’d witnessed her withdraw before, but never around him; never because of him. If he didn’t have at least half a brain, then that would be as good of an opportunity as any to comment on the fact he’d given her a reason to go to the enemy with intel about his fighting habits five fucking seconds after she’d playfully warned him against it. He couldn’t though, not when their playfulness vanished before his eyes. “I—” If the older man had a clue as to how to phrase his concerns properly, that heartbreaking look on her face threw it out of the window. He’d much rather study her, find out what went through her mind that made her eyes turn so dark, and then wipe all of that sadness away.

Before he even phrased a word, he’d already let her down. How the fuck was he going to fix that? There was some hope reflecting in the blue of his eyes still, but deep down his gut warned him that they couldn’t talk it out and go back to how their relationship was before they kissed like he’d hoped.

“Rowan… I—I can’t. This thing between us… It shouldn’t happen again. I shouldn’t have let myself give in in the first place.” When he dealt with business or people who tried to mingle with that business, Lev had learned to be diplomatic and pull aces off his sleeve — or his ass. But when the girl he liked stared back at him with hurt in her eyes, he couldn’t sugarcoat things or lean her on to clear his name. He had to be completely honest and lay the cards down on the table all at once. “You’re…incredible. The greatest girl ever.” Truly. She was intelligent, beautiful, perceptive, and carried a warmth within her that soaked anyone in her presence. While he blamed himself for getting carried away, he couldn’t question why he felt so drawn to her. “I’m not talkin’ bullshit, I mean it. I don’t understand how the hell you chose me.“ He couldn’t describe what urged him to reassure her he was being genuine, but he wouldn’t start ignoring his own intuition then. “But you’re also my best friend’s sister.” Lev ran a calloused hand through his short blond locks as he let out a frustrated sigh. “Damien is never gonna forgive me. Hell, he’s never gonna look at me again if you and I go further.“ Something in his own words stung and made him want to bite his tongue. He didn’t want to put the blame of his decision on the other man. “I don’t blame him. Damien… He knows me. He knows how things in my life work because of what I do.” He knew all about when the Rogues Club doors close to the public at midnight — when the people in debt are tossed in the pit for him to torture for not paying their debt in time. While the Bone Breaker hadn’t opened up to anyone about what this aspect of his lifestyle did to him, not even his best friend, the other man knew he’d never been able to make a relationship last because of it. “Even you know a part of it, don’t you?” All he had was suspicions. It was possible that his friend hadn’t shared classified information about how their organization worked and punished, but his gut told him otherwise. Even if Damien had never said a word to his little sister, Rowan had spent her whole life surrounded by the people of Valencia. She had to have known. “If we got together.. I’d eventually do the same with you too, and you—” You’d see me differently. You’d choose to leave. “It’d be shitty of me to lean you on with empty promises when I know how this works.”

《 𝓯𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓱𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴 ᵐᵃʸ ¹⁰ᵗʰ, ²⁰²⁰ 》

When Lev began speaking, Rowan truly did think she was going to be able to grin and bear it like she had done more than once before, her palms pressing hard into the metal hood of her Nissan.  The whole spiel about how it never should’ve happened, how it shouldn’t happen again–that she had heard so many times before she was nearly unfazed by it.  That she could steel herself through and make it to the other side like a professional.  But he kept talking; and as he kept talking the speech became individualized to him and the roots of it planted in her heart, weaving through her chest cavity like years had passed.

As he complimented her, she couldn’t even begin to process what it made her feel before it appeared on her face–her lip curling in disgust, and her feet prompt into movement by the words.  She slid off of the hood of the car, grabbing the plate of cookies and placing them on a standing ashtray in a one swoop movement.  Her eyes didn’t fall back on him until he’d finished talking, her standing at the ashtray with her arms crossed over her chest.  It wasn’t until her gaze reached his face that she realized why his rejection had wracked her resolve in a way it hadn’t ever before, it wasn’t until then that she understood what she was feeling.  It was disappointment.  Not in the situation, but in him. She had thought that he had seen her, and not just for all the feminine adjectives she used in her novels, words used to describe the ‘greatest girl ever’.  But for her strength, her ability to adapt, the way she navigated the polarity between the two worlds she knew so well with grace.  His words made it clear that he hadn’t, and that realization ripped those roots that had been deeply wound in her chest right out, her hand gripping at her chest as it manifested as a sharp pain shooting through her chest.  She had made it all up in her head, she had romanticized the shit out of him and was paying the price for it.  

“Okay” She spoke simply, already moving toward the driver’s seat of her car.  What else was there to say, what was she supposed to say?  ‘It’s okay, I understand why you wouldn’t even want to try’? She couldn’t bring herself to do it…but she also couldn’t bring herself to drive away without saying anything at all.  With her door open, feet grinding in the gravel she was parked on she looked at him again, opening and closing her mouth a few times as if she was at a loss for words.  The wordsmith stunned to silence.  

“Ya know…I could rip each and every one of your arguments to shreds but that would be just about pathetic enough to put me in my grave, so I’ll settle for this: I’m not naive enough to think that when you lay down in bed tonight you’ll think of me, but if I do happen to cross your mind tonight, do this for me.  Take a moment to comb over everything you just said and see if you can find any place where I was included in your narrative–and not as an excuse or a deflection.  See if you can find anything, because I sure can’t.”  The midnight haired woman spoke in a raspy voice, the wind catching her hair every so often as she spoke.   When she finished she shot him a sad grin, shaking her head as she moved to sit, but stopping midway to speak again.  “I’m not a kid so I don’t have very many ‘firsts’ left to record, but that was the first time someone’s used so many words to tell me they weren’t choosing me too.“  Rowan gave a tiny, airy laugh before sitting herself in her car and starting the engine.  

#{your love might be my damnation || but I'll cry to my grave} #interactions. #levyegorov

[rowankingsleyy]

levyegorov​:

《 𝓯𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓱𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴 ᵐᵃʸ ¹⁰ᵗʰ, ²⁰²⁰ 》

                                         Lev’s brother often joked that Lev put on his ‘Big Bad shoes’ when Valencia needed him — which was almost every night. Despite the fact that he would always roll his eyes and smack the back of the younger Yegorov’s neck in response, it wasn’t really a far-fetched comment. Stepping inside the pit meant harnessing every bit of anger, despair, violence and control that had forged, shaped and hurt him. When he stepped out of it, however, he had to leave it all behind. He had to focus on the good things ahead or else he’d lose his damn mind. When Lev wasn’t a Bone Breaker, he was a guy who grabbed life by the throat, seized each day without thinking ahead into his future and accessed control only when he deemed it to be absolutely necessary.

He hated every inch of his brain that told him Rowan’s case was an absolutely necessary situation. 

For every second he ignored that voice, the louder it screamed back at him, warning him that nothing could come out of this in the long run except the ruin of a lifetime long friendship and the staining of the best thing that’d happened to him in a long while. You can’t keep anyone around you. Not for long. Not like this. That peace of mind that Rowan offered him… He couldn’t bask in it, for he knew that the blackness of his lifestyle ( a lifestyle he could never escape if he tried, not with his blood and last name tying him to it for life ), embedded into his soul, would inevitably ruin it; ruin them. The hard truth that would accompany him for the rest of his life was that he’d picked a path with no return many years ago, without fully grasping all of the good things he’d miss. With the way things were, the way the organization was run, it meant that, when push came to shove, he had to prioritize Valencia’s needs over his partner’s. He didn’t want to fuck things up with her, which was why he had to hit the breaks before they reached a point of no return.

If only she didn’t make taking a step back so…damn…difficult. He leaned into her touch as if he’d felt it a million times before. His shoulders released some of their tension, loosening in a way that usually happened after he crashed into his bed. She’d always had that calming effect on him — a constant he could look to when everything around him became way too crazy. He used to be weirded out by how she seemed to know what was on his mind most of the time, but he’d grown to embrace it and become completely charmed by it; along with everything else about her. “You watch our thought process?” he echoed in jest whilst putting the plate back on the hood next to where her hips then sat. He’d left two for her — he wasn’t some greedy monster after all. She could claim the particular ones were made the previous day all she pleased and he’d let her, but they were too warm and soft for that to be true. “D’you watch mine, too? ‘Cause you know…that’s dangerous,” he mused. “How do I know you won’t go to the enemy with that vital information?” The tone in his voice teasing, the gleam of his eyes taunting as he offered a mischievous grin down at her. With his body standing in front of the hood and her feet dangling over it, it’d be so easy to close the distance between them completely — like he’d done the past couple of times they were left alone. The same fingers that had wrapped around necks like a tight vice, wrapped gently around the thin wrist of her creamy hand.

His head almost turned into her touch. His bruised lips almost planted a tender kiss on the pulse point. The more he looked into her inviting, warm gaze, the simpler it seemed to lean down and claim her lips. Instead, after a moment of inner struggle that had to be reflected on the disappointed and anxious expression of his facial features, he slowly pulled her hand down; away from his face. “Listen… I, uh—wanted to talk to you about somethin’; This,” he specified by jesturing between the two of them. Us.

《 𝓯𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓱𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴 ᵐᵃʸ ¹⁰ᵗʰ, ²⁰²⁰ 》

“I do.” Rowan spoke through laughs, smacking his shoulder playfully.  “Like this…” She whispered, a delicate finger tracing his eyebrow once again by memory, her eyes drifting toward his lips instead.  “The guy you were fighting…when he’s considering a right hook he takes a half step back for he does it.  I saw it coming.”  Something about the way she spoke was sultry, like what she was saying was intimate despite how she reared back to mimic his opposition. “Of course I do.  I’ve seen you fight more than I have anyone else…I won’t tell you what I see though…I don’t want you to overthink it.” She gave a small laugh, distance closing just slightly between them as she leaned forward onto her free palm that laid flat next to the remaining cookies, shoulders squeezed into a shrug.   “You don’t know. Y’know, I think that might be up to you to not give me a reason to go to the enemy with my intel.” The brunette met his tease with her own, a wicked grin crossing lips that were just dying to claim his own–until she was stopped dead in her tracks.

And then it was loud again, her brain giving her no less than a baker’s dozen directives on how to get out, to stop the train wreck of words that were about to slip his lips.  Words he probably thought he would be the first to say, words he probably thought were unique to him, words he probably didn’t realize she saw coming form the second the anxious hesitation crossed his face.  As he pulled her hand from his face, she pulled it from his grasp and into her lap, her eyes growing dark like the pine forests she’d rather be lost in than face the inevitability of their conversation.  She’d had this conversation with a quarter dozen men from the time she was a teenager to now, sparing Serafin whose words veered sideways into her being a secret.  Her identity as a person again trumped by her identity as Damien’s sister.  She loved being Damien’s sister, they were closer than any other sibling pair she knew, but it didn’t mean she wasn’t disappointed when people couldn’t see that her personhood was more complex than that.  

And that made her feel like a fool.  A fool for thinking even for a second that because it had been different for her that it had been for him too.  Just because he quieted her brain didn’t mean she did anything for him.  It was like she had been dropped from a magnetic field, eyes that had been bound together by an invisible force causing them to search each other out when their energies crossed, now drifting.  Rowan’s eyes fell from his, hovering somewhere between the the peaks of his cheek bones and his collar bone, her head falling to the side.  The dark haired woman squared her shoulders as if bracing herself for impact, sitting up a little straighter as to not feel like the small child these conversations tended to make her feel like.  “I’m listening” She breathed out, as if she hadn’t just hardened before his eyes.  “What’s on your mind?” They both had to know that she already knew the answer to that, despite how desperately she tried to iron out the emotion in her words as she spoke.  

The writer in her had already drawn their conversation to a close, assumed the ending and was mourning the potential the pages never met--and it showed.  Her mind was racing 8 different ways, one seeming to venture into the parts of her brain she had done everything she could to bar access to.  Maybe it was a good thing--at least this time she would walk away knowing she hadn’t fucked it up.  He hadn’t given her a chance to.  The opposite had happened with Raf, having dragged on far longer than its expiration, she had fucked up fifty different ways before he turned his back on her.  

#[im trassssssh i only added one paragraph and a few little things #levyegorov #{your love might be my damnation || but I'll cry to my grave} #interactions.

[rowankingsleyy]

Damien: that's a good idea actually...

Damien: maybe it's better to talk about it in person but...

Damien: guess who's back in fuckin' town

Rowan: You better not ghost my ass after that prelude

Rowan: Please tell me it's not who i think it is

Rowan: If it is and you're not in front of me in an hour to give me details your vehicle is getting a make over

#texts. #damiensking

[rowankingsleyy]

dulcedulcedulce​:

Anyone else, and Acacia would have been worried. Rowan..well..with Rowan, she couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed. “Yeah, you’re Rowan, right?” The question was sheepish. Of course she knew who Rowan was. Impulse had been the only mainstay of her selfcare routine. Even when she wasn’t sure what she’d do for income, Acacia had dropped by to pick up a sweet treat. “It’s a great place you have,” she added quickly. “Your menu is so vibrant, I always love seeing what you have.” It was Acacia’s turn to blush - god, she sounded like a gushing schoolgirl and that had to be weird. 

--

A pulse passed before words came from Rowan, her brows lifted in surprise.  “I am.” It wasn’t rare for someone to know who she was before she knew them but it wasn’t typically by name, ‘Damian’s sister’ was commonplace.  In that pulse, it all came back to her, having thought to herself many times over the past months that she should get the girl a reservation name plate for her corner of the shop.  The thought brought a humorous grin to the brunette’s face.  “I appreciate you coming around, I can’t believe I haven’t asked your name yet.” She laughed.  “I remember thinking I should pay you for the amount of time you give us, but something’s always gotten in the way.”  She shrugged, her purse sliding to her elbow as she did.  “Nice to finally meet you...” She let the sentence fall off as if to ask the other their name, outstretching her hand to shake hers.  

#interactions. #[ahhh same with acacia!! im sorry this has taken so long i was displaced bc of covid but im officially back]

[rowankingsleyy]

New Girl  |  1x11 - “Jess and Julia”

#{pretend I'm a shelter for your heartaches that don't have a home}

[rowankingsleyy]

We are, as a species, addicted to story. Even when the body goes to sleep, the mind stays up all night, telling itself stories.

Jonathan Gottschall, The Storytelling Animal: How Stories Make Us Human (via wordsnquotes)

#{pretend I'm a shelter for your heartaches that don't have a home}

[rowankingsleyy]

Rowan Kingsley had been wandering the streets of Red Ridge, en route to the bookstore she frequented when her own stories became stale when out of the corner of her eye she spotted something that made her heart leap right out of her chest before stopping all together.  Lev. Her eyes were just as drawn to him as they were in the months leading up to that night.  And that was probably why she didn’t see the woman she had nearly walked into.  “Shit, no, I’m sorry.  I wasn’t paying attention.”  A rosy blush infiltrated her face, words coming out flustered and rushed as she tried to get a good look at the other.  “Wait a second...I know you from somewhere...you come by Impulse every now and again, don’t you?”

open || @redridgehq​

Acacia couldn’t help it. Some days brought her to the steps of the restaurant that had been her home. No matter how short it had been, she’d always view it with a kind of wistfulness. Like a moth to the flame, she was across the street. Large sunglasses obscured part of her face, but any of  the senior staff would still recognize her. The danger wasn’t lost on her, but the same amount of uneasiness curled around her throat. It was a constant companion, though. The woman paused for a moment, eyeing the sign advertising the day’s specials. Her desserts were still being featured. She’d bet a week’s tips that the recipe was the same. too. Acacia shook her head as she thought better of her snooping, she hurried around the corner, only to stop short before colliding with a stranger. “Oh! I’m sorry!” she exclaimed. 

#dulcedulcedulce #interactions.

[rowankingsleyy]

The young business owner waved goodbye to the younger woman she’d only just recently hired to help her cover the long hours at the bakery, tossing her apron behind the counter as she did.  Then she was off, through the side door and down the street toward her car, only to look back and see Ivan.  “Hey stranger..” Rowan gave the other a wide grin, taking the necessary steps to the seat he’d offered.  “I can’t believe I missed you, I must’ve been in the back when you came in.” The woman leaned back into the carefully chosen chairs she had agonized over all those years ago.  “I’m in no rush.  How’s the missus?” 

For: Red Ridge Open, Anyone [Connections can be assumed] At: Impulse @ 5pm

Carrying a box of cookies for the Miss-to-be and a coffee for himself Ivan was beat from the day; the heat of the summer was kicking all their asses. Sipping the coffee he took a seat on one of the quaint outdoor chairs, the place was cute and the sweets were pretty good for how pretty they were. Snatching one from the box he just got he figured one missing from the set wouldn’t be noticed, sending her a picture of the box he figured it would be a nice surprise for when she landed. 

Setting his phone down he was surprised to see a familiar face walking down the street, lighting a cigarette he popped it in his mouth lighting it as they got closer. With a deep inhale he waved before slowly letting it out. With a smirk he kicked the chair out from across him to invite them to sit he nodded to it. “Been a while,” he smirked sipping his coffee, “You running somewhere or do you have a second?” 

#//me: super excited to finally use the rowan gifs i commissioned #mr-oconnell #interactions.

[rowankingsleyy]

#{sweet as strawberry wine || warm as a glass of brandy}

[rowankingsleyy]

Who would you turn to if you were in desperate need of help?

“damien and rowan”. comes out of her in a breath, such vibrant determination barely ever witnessed in her words. there is the shade of a smile on her features too, for she can appreciate this feeling of home as something precious, something she never believed she would deserve — a support system of sorts, perhaps the belief that if she fell, someone would catch her. perhaps. sometimes she feels herself slipping and knows the fall is just around the corner, waiting for a crooked step, for her to trip. her smile falters then, eyes falling downward and back up again, but almost as if they’ve shed some of their brightness, a cloud suddenly hiding the sun. “i think they’d be there if i needed them. like — they’ve had to handle a lot of my shit already, i know, but they — they’re sort of family, you know? i think they’d have my back. ”

@damiensking, @rowankingsley

#{pretend I'm a shelter for your heartaches that don't have a home}

[rowankingsleyy]

💌 Liliana

Liliana: I just do what any friend would do.

Liliana: Yes. He was.

Liliana: Well I was trying different this time though. I thought boring might work out.

Liliana: I do suck at this. I mean there is Jason, Jack, Joshua, Michael, Morris, Preston, and we can't forget the mechanic, who got arrested and almost got me arrested on our second date, because we were in a stolen car.

Rowan: Boring...doesn't change. If anything they get MORE boring.

Rowan: No you don't. Stop that. You just need to look somewhere else, somewhere maybe you can see that they're already worth a damn?

Rowan: But you're preaching to the choir baby, you know my romantic history is fucked

#ur good dude it took me six years to reply to mitch #texts. #liliana-isabel-marquez

[rowankingsleyy]

dustlnds​:

 a pot of herbal tea was brewing by the stove. perhaps a weak attempt at preserving the impression of a healthy, functional life — a clean life. if that wasn’t enough, the scent of tangerine bath gel had to make it work, as she stepped out of the bathroom with her hair still damp, her general cleaning day clothes (ragged shorts from five years ago, a top that barely held on to her shoulders) — only reserved for special audiences, which amounted to rowan and no one else. “hey —”, the smile on her lips was genuine, if a little surprised to see her. but grateful, always: very few people on earth felt like family to her, and when it came to rowan it wasn’t just because of the way her brother had helped her. there was concern on her features, a natural response at the downward note she could sense in rowan’s words (her mind automatically scanning through possible reasons, suspects, motivations for the blue shade on her), but her smile was honest: of all her pastimes, drawing on rowan’s skin just had to take the cake. natalie leaned in for a quick, yet firm hug, and swiftly stole the box from rowan’s hands to place it on the kitchen table. “i mean, when can i refuse when you keep feeding me for free?” a wink, as she quickly stole a cupcake from the box and got into it with a loud, appreciative mmm. as if the cupcake itself had managed to melt away whatever resistance was keeping her up still, natalie let herself fall heavily against her bed, right hand moving to pat against the mattress, inviting her friend to do the same. “come on, fpill it”, muttered through the bites. “what’s up?”

--

Something about the look of Nat as she took a mouthful of a cupcake that she’d made eased Rowan, her nerves falling to a rhythm that didn’t combat that of a nightclub.  “You couldn’t deny me even if I came empty handed.” Rowan teased, a hapless smirk on her face. “But there’s two new flavors in there.  I want you to guess what they are.”

At her friend’s invitation, Rowan fell face first into the plush surface of the mattress, taking pause there with her face pressed to the comforter for but a moment, her hand reaching out for Nat’s.  “Nothing..” she sighed out, turning her head to the side so she could look at the blonde.  “Literally fucking nothing is wrong with me but my brain won’t stop so it’s taking me 4 business days to fall asleep and i’m tired.” Okay so maybe that was partially a lie, but the young brunette refused to believe she could still be affected by Lev or the idea of seeing that man’s face at one of her publisher’s meetings.  She had to be stronger than that.  

#tHEY'RE MY FAVE OK #dustlnds #interactions.