#rowan pov

[infamous-if]

would u be willing to post seven's internal monologue?? pretty please just for us??? 😳

So sorry I don't mean to write all my characters with such sad internal monologues that's just what I tend to gravitate to 😢 hope it's not a problem

I shouldn’t be here. 

That thought follows them outside the car. It follows them down the street. To the Heavenly Isle lot. To the entrance. To the dancing crowd.

Their logic is practically yelling at them to turn around by the time they’re becoming one with the audience, shouldering dancing bodies as they maneuver through the human current, keeping one eye on the stage. The singer of the band on stage belts out lyrics to their song, baring their soul as they relay a love letter to an unrequited love, Annabelle. The subject of the track.

Seven clears their throat, oddly uncomfortable, before finding a relatively empty spot in the crowd.

Seven’s bandmates join them a moment later, crowding around the circular standing table by the edge of the crowd. Seven senses a few eyes on them. They brace themself for someone to ask for an autograph, even a picture, but loosen up when no one does. Good. Let them be a ghost. Let their image disappear. Let them cease to exist. Just for this one night. 

They just need this one night. 

“Why are we here?” Pope whines, going as far as stomping his feet. “We ditched a rager to watch BOTB auditions? We already won.”

Seven stares ahead, expression unchanging as the singer dives into a bridge full of confession and regret.  It was just last week they were up on that very stage, auditioning for the chance of a lifetime, singing lyrics just as raw. Just as vulnerable. 

Oddly enough, Seven wasn’t even half as nervous then as they are tonight.

“It’s good to get to know our competition,” Seven replies, surprising themself with how casual they sound. It’s funny, really. There’s nothing casual about their appearance tonight. 

They feel eyes on them and they meet Avina’s gaze, who shoots a pointed look at the table. Seven looks down, finding that their hand is tapping relentlessly against it. They turn it into a fist, shoving it in the pocket of their plaid shirt, hating how observant their friend is. 

“Our competition?” Keiran asks, doing a perusal himself. “When did you become so”—they make a vague gesture with their hands—“involved?”

Seven clenches their jaw. “Is it a crime to want to win? If you want to slack off this competition, be my guest, but you’re not doing it in this fucking band.”

Kieran’s brows lift. 

Seven shuts their eyes. “Sorry, that—“ They huff. “I didn’t mean that.”

Pope shoots Seven an odd look. “Why are you—“ Even beneath the dimly lit mezzanine that shakes with the weight of the dancers, Seven can see the dawn of their realization clearly. “Oh. Oh. I get it now.” 

“Get what?” Kieran prompts, whipping his head back and forth in search of an answer. “Get what? What?”

“Seven didn’t come here to scope out the competition.” A teasing smile grows on his face. “Well, they did. One competitor in particular.” 

Seven shuts their eyes as Kieran lets out a child-like ‘ohhhhh.’

“Pope,” Avina sighs out, staring at Seven with a trace of worry on their face. Which makes it worse. “Stop it.” 

Pope raises his hands in surrender. Kieran has enough decency to pat Seven supportively on the back. 

“The pain we reap. The lives we seek. Would you bury me with the rest of your past misdeeds?”

Seven looks around, soaking in the dancing crowd. Are they listening? Truly listening? Do they resonate with the pain of the singer? 

Do they care?

That’s one of Seven’s biggest problems as an artist; having to deal with the fact that sometimes a song is just a song. That for Seven, it could be their whole heart on a track. And for others it could just be another three minutes to escape. 

Seven briefly wonders if they watched their performance. Would they have listened to the lyrics Seven wove in the quietest hours of the night, catered specifically for them? Would they have understood?

Seven clears their throat, shaking away the thoughts just as Donny, the host, comes up on stage. The next few minutes melt together in a blur of cheering and conversations Seven hardly hears. 

Because they’re there. Right there. And Seven has lost all grip on reality. Any sense of self. For a moment, it almost feels like a dream. 

If only they cared a little less.

They feel an arm on them and look up to see Avina smiling. “Howdy, partner.”

Seven faces ahead, watching as (MC) and the band takes their places on stage. Their eyes track MC’s every move, as though MC is in danger of disappearing. Isn’t that what they did the first time? “Hi,” they say finally. 

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Avina says. The lights dim, signaling the start of the song. “You can just leave.”

“I know,” Seven clears their throat, “but I can’t.”

Avina says nothing to that, instead choosing to face ahead. Pope and Kieran come closer, whispering to each other as the first notes of the song start. 

MC’s voice is just as Seven remembered. Smooth. Hypnotizing. They hate that it still gives them chills. Hate that MC still has that kind of power over them and their body. 

As the crowd becomes increasingly excited, Seven’s will to stay weakens. The lyrics are too close. Too real and watching MC up there cuts a bit too deep. Seven wants to care a little less? No—they don’t want to care at all. They wish they could wash MC off them like filth. Strip memories of their scent, forget the way they laugh, strike out every memory with a marker like some failed lyric in one of their notebooks. Just erase it all until there’s nothing left. 

And it’s in that moment, while Seven is thinking up every twisted metaphor, that MC notices them. 

A stifled sound they didn’t know they could make crosses their throat. MC eyes pierce through them as if Seven were made of glass. That’s surely how they feel right now—delicate and liable to break. 

MC’s voice pitches upon the realization and they look around, as if to check if anyone noticed. No one does. But Seven did. Seven always does. 

It’s then that Seven answers their own question. If you heard my song, would you understand? They know MC would, because this is not just music to them. Their songs used to be another language. It was the way they laughed, the way they knew what the other was thinking with one kiss. The way they touched and danced and did nothing at all under the pulsing lights of the stars on their mom’s roof. 

And it’s all gone. 

“This was a mistake,” Seven whispers to Kieran, hating how choked their voice sounds. Despite their earlier humor, Kieran remains grave when they nod.

Seven doesn’t have to say anything else. Their friends know instantly. Just like what Seven had with MC, they have their own language. This is how it is—you move on by finding something else. By burying the past with the Seven they killed the night they decided to leave. 

Seven gives themself ten seconds. Ten seconds to allow themselves to feel. Then, once the ten seconds are up, they imagine themself scribbling this moment out like a song in a journal, doing so dark enough that even the most painful moments can’t been seen under the messy wall of black. 

They turn around and walk through the crowd. They don’t look back. 

#Just like Rowan's this is quite long #once again pls excuse typos or any awkward sentences #i only do one draft of drabbles #seven lawless #drabble #POV drabble #seven's pov #i should be correcting errors #haha

[oceandiagonale]

POV you're running a Unovan food truck in Sinnoh and you shoot your shot with a crinkly little dude

(bonus professor rowan doodle)

#oceandi arts #generic protagonist #the aRRRc #professor rowan #POV #noodle the typhlosion #floatzel #cw eye contact #it's friday somewhere I can post this JKFHSDKJF #it's a direct lead-in to the next actual update sdkjfksjdhf

[booasaur]

Crush (2022)

#crushedit #crush 2022 #crush hulu #aj campos #paige evans #auli'i cravalho #rowan blanchard #crush spoilers #aj x paige #femslash related stuff #the actual buildup to the kiss #after the haha we could never kiss that'd be so silly and wild of us #this is the thing I love where the movie is of course in paige's POV but you can see how very interested aj is too #especially in hindsight #though the stuttering and nerves during this scene made it pretttty clear #but oh right also! #that the girls are inexperienced isn't really shamed nor like...praised #they just aren't experienced

[dollybeagle]

mothwing should have been the one to kill hawkfrost i think

#rowan speaks #warrior cats #mothwing #She could have been so much more.. #Literally pov character potential #I wanna read abt her #Get into her thoughts #The erins focused on the tiger bros sm but what about the sisters

[jessread-s]

✩🏰💰Series Review: 

⋆ Dual pov

⋆ Contemporary romance

⋆ Different protagonists each book

Asher’s “Dreamland Billionaires” trilogy swept me off my feet and found its way into my heart. 

Typically when I read series that feature different protagonists each book I find myself invested in certain characters more than others, but Asher made it impossible not to fall in love with all of the fictional couples she created. Each individual story within the series is compelling in its own way, has its own set of tropes, and is intertwined by the Kane brothers’ joint goal of receiving their inheritance. 

I look forward to reading the spin-off series,  “Lakefront Billionaires,” starting with “Love Redesigned” in November!

➤ The Fine Print: 4.75 stars ➤ Terms and Conditions: 4.25 stars ➤ Final Offer: 4.5 stars

➤ Overall Series Rating: 4.5 stars

Cross-posted to: Instagram | Amazon | Goodreads | StoryGraph

#dreamland billionaires #the fine print #rowan kane #zahra gulian #terms and conditions #declan kane #iris landry #final offer #callahan kane #alana castillo #lauren asher #dual pov #contemporary romance #spicy romance #booklr #book blogger #book blog #bookish #romance books #adult romance #new adult romance

[thoughtfulshepherdmongerkid]

Of course I FINALLY want to write and I ha e to be a work

#personal #rowan writes #? #as soon as I’m off it’s over for you bitches #it’s an elain pov #I can’t wait

[rowanaelinn]

Illicit Affairs - Helia’s Secret

Masterlist

Written for When Aelin Is Away prompt @rowaelinscourt

Warnings: mentions of death | Word Count: 2,200

On a bright and cold day of December, Rowan was interrupted by his daughter in his study. With her irresistible smile, she asked him if he’d like to go out to eat something. The request alone told him this outing was more important than just some father/daughter moment. Contrary to Helia’s mother, Aelin who was away on a work trip, Rowan hated eating out or ordering food in. Aelin always referred to him as a health junky, and he supposed she was right. His daughter knew that, as well.

No questions asked, Rowan had stopped in his work and told his daughter to get into his car. “Can I drive?” She asked sweetly.

She didn’t have her license yet, and he was in the process of teaching her. He glared at her, his only answer. He loved his daughter, the Gods knew he did, but she was awful at driving. Again, he didn’t know how but it was something she picked from Aelin. Whenever he was driven by any of his girls, he feared for his life. He’d never say it out loud, though, or he’d actually die.

“Boring old man,” she rolled her eyes and climbed on the passenger side of the car.

He snorted, unaffected by the insult. Not a day went by in the Whitethorn house without a remark being made about his age.

“Where are we going?” He asked her. She knew restaurants more than he did. She was his little savior, always recommending him the best restaurants to take Aelin to on their date nights.

“Can we go to that place I like? With their pastas?”

“Sure,” he nodded, and shifted to first gear.

While he’d been more than good at STEM subjects, Helia was the definition of the perfect humanity student. Even at only fifteen, she knew three languages, well on her way to learn a fourth. She loved eating at Emrys because the old man there spoke the old language, and she’d been learning that language for years now.

Once they arrived at the place and a waiter took in their order, Rowan waited. Nothing good would come from pushing her if she had something to tell him. He tried to keep his face neutral, but inside he prayed that whatever it was it wasn’t too serious. He seriously prayed she wasn’t pregnant. He couldn’t be a grandfather now—and Aelin would joke endlessly about it—and Helia was still… a baby.

His baby. Even if he knew she would deny it. She was growing, he was aware of it. He also knew that his days were counted until she moved away from him for college, and sometimes he wished he could always keep her under his roof. “How’s school?” He started, not truly knowing on which feet to dance. Maybe if he initiated the conversation, it was better for her.

“Oh, everything’s fine,” she shrugged. “I’ve signed in for the theater club, like I said I would.”

“That’s good,” He nodded. “Are you happy about that?”

“Yeah, sure. Plus, Talia has signed up for it as well, so it’s good.”

Talia was Helia’s best friend, or girl best friend to not forget about Loren. They’d met when they were six and hadn’t left each other side since. Hellas, sometimes Rowan felt as if Talia was his daughter as well because of all the time she spent at their house.

Their pasta arrived right after, and she started clapping in her hands with excitement. “Thank you, dad.”

He frowned, “You don’t have to thank me for keeping you fed.”

She shrugged, “You could have said no to going out.”

Right, that was an opportunity he would take. “I felt like you had something to tell me.”

She looked away, fixating her green eyes on the man behind him as her mouth moved to the side. He didn’t enjoy seeing her this way, and she looked down at her lap. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything.

“I-I do.”

“I’m all ears, baby,” he smiled at her, trying to encourage her even if he was dying inside.

She took a deep breath and finally looked at him. She wasn’t usually one to be shy, she had never grown out of that outspoken and extrovert phase she’d had as a child, and it was that that troubled him the most. She swallowed with difficultly before she said, “I don’t really know how to say it, so I guess I’m just gonna go straight to the point. You like straight to the point anyway, you’re like… the most direct person ever. Always going straight to the point—”

“Which you’re not doing right now,” he noted with a touch of humor.

She glared at him, and he was happy to find some of her fire back. She took a deep breath and said quickly, “I like girls, dad. Like, I’m a… I’m a lesbian.”

“Okay…?” Well, he’d expected another kind of news. “Congrats?”

She frowned, and asked with heat, “What do you mean okay, congrats?”

He looked around the restaurant before replying, “I just wasn’t aware that I wasn’t supposed to know.”

Her face paled, “You knew? All this time, I’ve been worried sick about telling you, but you knew?”

“Helia, why have you worried in the first place? I love you, I don’t give a shit about who you love, as long as they are treating you right. And yes, I did have strong suspicions of it, but I never expected you to come out to me. I thought you’d just bring someone home and that’s it.”

“So… You’re not upset?” She asked, her voice quiet. Worried.

His heart squeezed in his chest, and he debated standing to hug her. “You thought I’d be?”

She shrugged, “I didn’t know how you’d react. I was scared you’d leave me.”

Alright, fuck it, he stood and leaned into his daughter, wrapping his arms around her. She buried her head into his chest and sniffed. He rubbed her back and kissed the top of her head, “I love you, always. Nothing you do could change it, alright?”

“I love you, dad.”

He sat back in his seat, and she asked, “What gave you those suspicions?”

He huffed a laugh, “You made your barbies kiss when you were a kid, Lia, which was quite telling if I have to be honest. And when you turned six, I think, you started speaking about how boys at school were ugly and annoying and didn’t understand why your friends wanted a boyfriend when girls were just more interesting.”

She bit her lips to avoid laughing, while Rowan was full-on grinning.

“And,” he kept going, “You never talked to me about a boy.”

“I never told you about a girl either,” she noted with a strong argument. Good thing, as she wished to be a lawyer. He had no doubts she’d make it.

“Which is why I never brought up the subject,” he said. “I could have been wrong.”

She let out a long breath, “Alright, that’s not the reaction I expected but I cannot complain.”

He cocked his head to the side and asked, “Have you told your mother?” If Helia had asked Aelin to keep the secret, she would have, and Rowan couldn’t fault her for that. She had Helia’s entire trust, and it was a good thing.

She winced, “Well, I did tell the dead one.”

Rowan’s brows furrowed and his lips parted, but he couldn’t say anything. He could only look at his daughter in confusion, and she shrugged, “What? I killed her, I can at least keep her entertained in her grave.”

“No,” he said, voice hard. “You did not kill your mother, Helia.”

Helia had never had a problem having two mothers and called them both the same way. Aelin never had a problem with it, had encouraged it even.

She looked away, all swagger fading away from her eyes. There was a vulnerability showing in her eyes, one he wasn’t used to seeing in his daughter. But he, unfortunately, knew it all too well, the guilt that ate someone alive. “Hey,” he breathed. “Lia, do you feel like you killed her?”

“I did, didn’t I?” She said, eyes filling with tears. “If she hadn’t been pregnant with me, her body might have been less exhausted. She would have survived the shock, would have survived the blood loss if she hadn’t had to give birth to me.”

“The only people who are responsible for your mother’s death are the Gods and fate. She was thrilled at the idea of having you, you know. You made her so happy,” that was the truth. Lyria hadn’t been good for him, hadn’t been the right person. But she would have been an amazing mother to Helia, that was something he didn’t doubt.

“I just sometimes fear that you resent me for it, you know?” She admitted, bottom lip quivering. “That if I wasn’t here, you’d still be happily married and all. I kind of ruined it all.”

“No,” he stopped her right there. “Baby, I could never regret you a single day of my life. You made me want to be better, you and Aelin put me out of a dark place I wouldn’t have survived on my own. And…” He sighed. “I hope it doesn’t upset you, but even if your mother had survived, I don’t think we’d still be together.”

Her smile turned watery, “Because it’s always been Aelin?”

“Exactly,” he said, smiling a little. She’d summed it up perfectly. “But it doesn’t mean I didn’t love your mom, because I did. Sometimes, life just surprises us.”

“I know, dad,” she smiled, and then took a deep breath. “How do you think mom would have reacted? To me being a lesbian?”

“She would have loved you just the same she did the day before,” he said, truthful. “She would have been proud of you, for being who you are. Just the way that I am.”

She quickly wiped away a tear from her cheek and tilted her head up, “Well, good. Because I’m not changing for anyone.”

He grinned, “I wouldn’t expect you to.”

She smiled and took a bite of her meal, closing her eyes to enjoy the food. Again, that was such an Aelin thing to do. He missed her, and wished she’d be here today with them. But if Helia had wanted to come out to both parents at the same time, she would have.

As if she could read his thoughts, Helia said, “I will tell mom when she gets home, I think. I just… wanted you to know first.”

“Thank you, Lia,” he said with sincerity. Then he winced, because he was about ruin this perfectly good moment. “I’m afraid I have to slip back into my fussy father mode.”

Her face paled, “Please don’t.”

“We need rules.”

“No we don’t.”

“Helia,” he gave her his infamous dad look. She sighed in resignation, he took it as a sign to continue. “I cannot forbid you from inviting your friends for sleep-overs,” because the Gods knew that teenagers loved to have sleep-overs. “But I trust you enough that you would tell me which friend is… more. If one of them is. Because rules will change if… If you have a girlfriend.”

She narrowed his eyes at him, “Why do you care? I can’t get pregnant, can I?”

He choked on his mouthful of pasta. “Helia Whitethorn,” he scowled.

She raised her hand in the air in a sign of innocence, “I’m just saying! We don’t need rules.”

He cocked his head to the side, “Straight or bisexual or lesbian I don’t give a shit, Helia. What I care about is that you’re only fifteen, and I think you already have a lot of freeom, don’t you?”

That was true. He and Aelin allowed her to go to parties, told her that if she was drinking within reasons, it was alright, and that if she ended up too drunk or in a dangerous situation she could call them, which she had done with Talia a few weeks prior when they started getting sick. Aelin and he wanted her to experience those things, but he also knew that for Aelin it was hard to give her those liberties without feeling as if she was neglecting Helia. She feared becoming like her own mother and father. He supposed that some wounds from her past would never entirely close.

“You’re right,” she mumbled.

“Alright,” he nodded. “So, do you have anything to tell me?”

A blush spread in her cheeks, and she bit her lip. “Talia and I we’re… I love her, dad.” The look on her face, how bright her eyes shone… She looked in love.

“Oh—” He blinked a couple of time. “Alright, you did manage to surprise me in the end today.”

She snorted, “But don’t worry, we never did anything or… Well, you see. We just kiss. So, don’t get your panties in a twist.”

He tried to hold his wince in, he didn’t wish to know more.

On a more serious note she asked, “Does that mean she won’t be able to come over anymore?”

He took a deep breath, unsure of what to say. “It’s a decision that needs to be taken with your mother. But I suppose that if you promise to respect the house rules, I could bring up the idea of sleepovers under the condition of leaving the door open.”

She nearly jumped out of her seat in excitement, “Thank you, dad! You’re the best!”

He couldn’t truly hold back a smile at that, he tried his best to make his girls happy. He supposed he’d done a pretty good job.

••••••

@sheharahu // @morganofthewildfire // @thestoriesyoutell // @fromthelibraryofemilyj // @swankii-art-teacher // @itsforeverinnocent-blog // @becarefuloflove // @imnotsogoodatthis // @rowaelinismyotp // @a-court-of-milkandhoney // @feysand-loml // @elentiyawhitethorn // @live-the-fangirl-life // @story-scribbler // @loves-books // @fangirlprincess09 // @theysayitscrazy // @danibutterr // @endlessdaydream // @thegreyj // @gracie-rosee // @acreativelydifferentlove // @cretaceous-therapod // @louphantomdragon // @mis-lil-red // @backtobl4ck // @whoever-you-choose-to-love // @lemonade-coolattas // @mad-madeline-ace // @the-introverted-bibliophile // @leiawritesstories // @emilyoftheshadows // @anniesbookshelf // @rainbowcheetah512 // @astra-ad-mare // @story-scribbler // @superspiritfestival l // @wordsafterhours // @rowaelinrambling // @black-daisy-water // @fireheart-violet // @livsdriverslicense // @charlizeed // @ladykreads // @mariamuses // @autumnbabylon // @justreadertings // @highqueenofelfhame // @earthtolinds // @bowdawn

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan x aelin #throne of glass fanfiction #illicit affairs rowan pov #illicit affairs #throne of glass

[youremyboy]

HIIIII @gingerandcelery HAPPY GIFT EXCHANGE!!!! some post sick day sad amir tenderness for you. I hope you like it 💙💙

#AND the first time ive tried to write amir pov. it was A Challenge agahhdjsjdjsksk #this feels vaguely ooc but they can have some ooc tenderness. as a treat #I HOPE YOU LIKE IT MY FRIEND ROWAN <3 #jake and amir

[romandles]

I’m so tired. I just want someone to tell me it’s okay to lay in bed while they pamper me and cook and rub my back and stroke my hair. I want them to cuddle me while we watch TV or play video games next to each other. Maybe we fuck a little when I get my energy back or they make me cum 10 times until I pass back out and sleep for the rest of the day.

#POV the medicine and caffeine that’s supposed to wake me up isn’t working and I had the same nightmare back to back #rowan rambles #t4t #nonbinary #puppy boy #t4t yearning #sleepy

[wordsafterhours]

Songs About You - Chapter 10 (Rowan's POV)

Author's Note: Surprise! I hope you guys like this little snippet in Rowan's POV :) I'm currently writing chapter 11 but I thought it would be fun to do a R POV since we haven't seen once since the very start of this fic. Also, it's unedited (like all my stuff) so apologies for the errors.

Word Count: 1.9k

Masterlist

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

Being an adult had certain perks—the freedom to make your own choices, stay up all night, drink alcohol. But it also had certain downfalls, like the cognizance that time could pass in the blink of an eye. That you closed your eyes one day for a second too long and now it was a new month. Rowan felt like he’d only blinked, and it was a new month. 

Since the “incident” as he referred to it, he’d been struggling to appreciate the days’ time for what it was. Not one to let things fester, he had tried to ignore Aelin fleeing his driveway, not even bothering to address her statement with Lyria. He hadn’t known the blonde long, yet he could see how easily she wore her heart on her sleeve. Likely, whatever had happened between the two women had been a misunderstanding made worse by Aelin’s emotional stance. 

When he went back inside, Lyria offered nothing more regarding the situation, sticking to her prior statement that Aelin hadn’t been feeling well. His hiking group showed up not long after and he’d poured himself into the day’s activities, appreciative of the reprieve it gave. He’d be a liar though, if he said he didn’t catch himself staring at Lyria, analyzing her every word and movement, wondering if there was more to the story. 

Lyria had stayed the night, declaring herself too tired to go home. He didn’t mind, really, choosing to enjoy their arrangement. Companionship without a label was working for them and he wasn’t in any hurry to change it. She had made comments here and there indicating she wanted to be his girlfriend—he studiously ignored them. Rowan cared for her; he wouldn’t let it go beyond that. 

The day after the incident… that’s when he had found Aelin’s discarded bag on the back porch. Like a high school girl debating to talk to her crush, he toyed with the idea of texting her, letting her know she had left it. Eventually, he did and was subsequently left on read. 30 years old and left on read. The gods had a sense of humor for his life lately.

Now it was December and that stupid bag had been mocking him for weeks. It was perched on a chair by his front door, a constant testament that he didn’t even warrant a reply. He’d woken up today on the wrong side of the bed and her stupid bag was grating his last nerve. 

“I’m taking you to the damn bookstore,” he declared, angrily slinging it over his shoulder as he locked up to leave the house. Naturally, all the contents of the bag spilled into the passenger seat and floorboard when he chunked into the truck. A curse word accompanied each item he placed back into the bag. 

He was ready to be done with this and her. He was crazy for ever thinking the two of them could be friends. Her ego and lack of manners drove him crazy. She was emotional and he liked to think he was pretty even tempered. Also, he despised the way she organized some of the sections in her store, it made zero sense in his type A brain.

Rowan had the address for Present Tense and the two routes he could take to get there memorized which meant he didn’t have to listen to the music dim as his phone gave directions. Scrolling through his various playlists, he decided to forgo is usual musical choices, selecting something with a more alternative edge. Highly Suspect’s “Natural Born Killer” began to blast through the cab, it’s hard beats a welcome distraction. By the time he reached the store, his mood at improved slightly, leaving him confident he wouldn’t bite her head off when he handed over her bag. 

Bag in tow, he rounded the corner and peered into the large windows of the store. The lights were on and the fire lit, but he didn’t see Aelin, or anyone else for that matter in the store. The front door displayed its open sign, the door handle unlocked, moving freely when he jiggled it. A familiar tinkling of bells overhead sounded as he pushed into the store, drowning out any other noise for a few seconds. 

Rowan pushed the door flush, looking around for Aelin, and still not seeing the familiar hair of blonde hair anywhere. That’s when he heard it, loud retching and choking noises, like someone was struggling to maintain their airway.  His green eyes darted across the store, desperately seeking the source of the sound. The hallway behind the desk where the bathroom and Aelin’s office were was dark; the sound was too loud to be that far away. 

The heaving started again, only this time punctuated with muffled cries. “Aelin! Aelin is that you?” 

Heave. Heave. Heave.

“Aelin!” he called out while walking to the register. 

A loud thud his only answer. His heart seized in his chest when he looked over the countertop. Aelin was ghostly white splayed out on the floor, her hair wet and stuck to her face. Her breathing was fast, shallow. He said her name twice but no response. 

Rowan dropped to his knees, slipping his arms beneath her back and pulling her up against his body. Despite her skin being wet with perspiration, it felt cool to the touch. Resting his chin against her temple, he pleaded for her to wake up. His heart was pounding hard against his rib gage as he prayed to Mala for her to do something, anything to let him know she was okay.

Aelin’s small frame tensed in his arms and before his brain could process what was happening, she was pushing herself away from him, turquoise eyes wild, shocked. His own were as wide as half dollars, not understanding why she’d reacted like a terrified wild animal caught in a hunter’s snare. Holding out his hand in calm reassurance, he inched forward to help her up. The woman slid back with a violent shake of her head back and forth, a silent rejection.

He ignored her, moving forward again. 

“Don’t,” Aelin whispered, her voice firm in warning. 

Worry continued to bloom uncomfortably in his chest, newly accompanied by a note of hurt. Aelin seemed absolutely rattled by something and didn’t trust him enough to accept help. He knew their friendship was tenuous but the look in her eyes was going to haunt his dreams for months to come. 

“Aelin, what’s the matter?”

“I said don’t,” she cautioned, louder than before. 

He was not going to let her best him, regardless of the situation. He would get to the bottom of this, warnings be damned. “I heard you, but I don’t care. What. Is. The. Matter?”

The little bit of color that had returned to her cheeks was receding, the pale white hue taking over once more. She sprang up, dropping her head between her knees, and Rowan took the opportunity to move closer. He stood over here, green meeting turquoise as she looked up at him. “Aelin’s can you just tell me what’s wrong?”

She nodded no, placing her head between her legs, body visibly spasming as she started heaving again. An agonizing cry sent Rowan to his knees as he cradled his body around hers. He pressed his cheek into hers, forcing her to brace against his left arm. Despite being much smaller than him, his body was shaking by proxy. “You’re shaking,” he cooed, unable to keep the pain from his voice. He felt her stiffen and try to pull forward, but he held his grasp firm, hushing her. 

“Aelin, I need to know that you’re alright. Do you need to go to the hospital?”

A few calm minutes passed with no response, so he pried once more. “Can you tell me what you has so upset, Ae?” His arms gripped her tighter, preventing possible escape.  “Aelin, I’m serious. If you don’t tell me what happened, I’m taking you to the hospital.” 

The lack of response was both tiresome and worrisome and Rowan had had enough. He shifted Aelin so that she was sideways in her lap, allowing him to cradle her face with his free hand and force eye contact. The gold rings in her eyes were muted, the turquoise flat, lifeless. Her lids closed, effectively shutting him out. A pang stabbed his chest as his heart ached for her at her having been reduced to this panicked version instead of the vibrant, stubborn, fiery person he’d known her to be. 

“Please don’t,” he asked, a last-ditch effort to get her to open up. 

“Can’t what?” his voice gentle.

“I can’t do this.”

He tensed, his 6’4” frame becoming a solid wall of alarmed muscle. “Do what?”

“Keep living,” Aelin admitted so softly it was almost as though she hadn’t spoken at all. Rowan stared at her in disbelief. Had he just heard her right? 

“Aelin. What the fuck happened?” 

“Arobynn,” she said succinctly. 

“Arobynn?” he repeated, confused. The way she said the name was like he should know whom she was referring to. 

“He was their friend.”

“Whose friend? I don’t understand.” 

More tears escaped her closed lids and were soon accompanied by silent cries, her body shuddering in untold grief. Rowan didn’t ask her to expand on what she meant, instead he continued cradling her, resting his head against hers as she soaked the front of his red shirt. He would hold her forever if it meant the tears would stop falling. He’d never heard someone sound so broken. He himself was no stranger to pain, having lost both his parents tragically, but somehow, this was different. It was as if there was only despair occupying her, allowing nothing else. 

Eventually, Aelin’s tears stopped.  His arms refused to loosen, as though they were solely responsible for holding together all her broken parts. “Arobynn Hamel was my parents’ best friend. He was my uncle and one of my favorite people in the world. Growing up there wasn’t a happy memory he wasn’t in.”

“But you said he’s responsible for your parents’ death?”

Aelin cleared her throat. “Arobynn James Hamel is a murderer.” 

Rowan’s breath audibly caught in his throat as her admission sunk in. He could feel his heart heart racing, bordering on beating right out of his chest. It suddenly all made sense—what he had walked in on earlier. There was still quite a bit of questions he needed answered but they would come in time, hopefully. Grappling with what to say, he elected to stay silent, not wanting to put his foot into his mouth. 

 “There’s more to the story but I just can’t today, Rowan. I can’t. I’ll tell you someday if you’re still around, but today, today I feel like dying and I can’t do much more but breathe in and out,” she declared candidly. 

“I’ll be here.” And he would. Rowan could feel his promise echo into his bones. He’d tried to deny it, had successfully up until this point, he was undeniably drawn to Aelin and could not stay away anymore, consequences be damned. 

“What?” she asked, surprise heavily coloring the one word. 

His thumb brushed against her lower lip causing her to open her eyes. His dark green ones were serious as he met hers. “I’ll be here.” 

Aelin’s berry-colored lip quivered beneath his thumb. “I haven’t scared you off?”

Rowan felt his lips quirk slightly upward in a smile at her remark. “No, I’m afraid it’ll take more than a borderline catatonic, panicked meltdown to scare me off. You’re stuck with me.” 

“To whatever end?”

“Yes, Aelin, to whatever end.” 

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

Tag List:

@rowanaelinn @theresyourfireandblood @backtobl4ck @leiawritesstories @morganofthewildfire @rowaelinismyotp @jorjy-jo @theresyourfireandblood @numbers-colors-fashion @swankii-art-teacher @whispers-in-the-darkest-heart  @stardelia @astra-ad-mare

#Rowan's POV #Songs About You #Rowan #Aelin #rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #throne of glass fic #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass au #enemies to friends #wordsafterhours #aelin's court #aelin galythinius #snippet

[spacevixenmusic]

Source: The Zeta Project [2001]

#the zeta project #rosalie rowan #beating you up #pov #bash

[infamous-if]

O kay okay okayaoakayasysayas Since Rowan isn't going to be a LI can we please get his POV reaction (deep crush stage) of MC going over to him to tell him that MC is in love with one of the other ROs? Pleasee I need the angst and I love Rowan and am sad we won't be able to romance him!!

I was listening to favorite crime and kind of went a bit overboard. Please excuse this lengthy and angsty-ish drabble. Aha.... 🤒 ill keep it short next time

The soft notes of Rowan's guitar--affectionally dubbed 'Betty'--rises above his head, filling the silence of his hotel room. He strums aimlessly, absently, his fingers having a mind of their own as they move, creating a random melody that's oddly soothing. Or maybe it's the very essence of his guitar--he always feels more grounded, centered, with Betty in his hands.

Rowan's gaze remains unfocused as he plays, his head tilted, legs crossed on the balcony that overlooks the sleepy streets of their latest tour stop. A soft, pleasantly warm wind curls around the messy strands of his hair, locks sweeping across his forehead like a caressing hand. As the melody takes hold, going from mindless practice to something that sounds like it can be the bones of a real song, he closes his eyes.

Rowan has never been a good singer, but you don't need to be a good singer to make people feel something. He's learned that from the best of them.

I wonder if MC would like this.

The thought of his best friend makes a low groan sound in his throat, and with a huff he pauses the recording of his phone. Suddenly Betty's romantic notes feel like a taunt, a blade to his heart with every reminder of what he and MC are not. They're not together. They're not anything more than friends.

They're not what he wants them to be.

He knows he shouldn't feel this way about them. They're friends. They've been friends since he still thought fart jokes were funny and he had no bass in his voice. That's all they've always been and all they will be: friends.

The word has never sounded so terrible.

Still. If only...

His phone buzzes with a text and he sets Betty down. That blade in his heart only twists when he sees who it's from.

Of course. Did my thinking manifest them? The thought induces both a laugh and a sharp hint of misery from him.

He reads the text: Open your door.

He turns his upper-body to face his door, bursting up once the realization flows through him. He glances at himself in the mirror on his way there, making sure his pajamas are at least semi-presentable. It's MC; they've seen him in worst states, but level of comfortability changes when you want someone to see you in ways they've never seen you before.

In other words, he needs to look good.

Rowan heaves a breath before swinging open the door, remembering to keep the easy smile on his face. MC still looks good even at twelve a.m. after an entire day on the road. It's almost unfair.

"Heyyyy." He grins, trying to appear light. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

MC rolls their eyes. "You're not busy, are you?" They lean over to peek behind Rowan's shoulder, their eyes settling on an abandoned Betty. "Working on something?"

"Nah." He scratches his neck, self-concious. "Just fooling around. What, you need to talk about something?"

MC pushes past Rowan's shoulder to breeze inside, throwing themselves on the bed with a huff. "Iris and Devyn are out and I need to talk to someone."

Rowan takes a seat next to them, snorting. "So I'm the third choice?Wow."

They prop themselves up on their elbows, strands of hair falling in front of their face. Rowan has the terrible urge to lean over and push them away. "You're not exactly the 'serious talk' kind of person."

"Serious talk?" He gapes. "Yes, I am! I'm capable of being serious, you know. I'm not an asshole."

With a laugh, MC rolls over on their stomach and groans into Rowan's pillow. Now his curiosity is officially piqued. What could have MC so...like this?

"What's up?" Rowan's following laugh is both nervous and amused. "Did something happen with Seven?" Seven and MC have been a bit...all over the place since the beginning of the tour. He hardly knows what to call it. "Or did Orion lecture you again?" Orion is another one. That man has been relentless since tour started.

MC shoots him a look before sitting up, copying Rowan's position. His eyes flicker down to where their knees touch, to the proximity that's gone from the size of the bed to none at all.

They've been close like this before. No, scratch that. They've been closer, but this is different. This is different because everything is different.

"You know you're my best friend, right?" MC says, putting their hands on Rowan's.

He clears his throat, the skin under theirs burning with their touch. "Yeah...?"

"And we can tell each other everything?"

"Yeah." He quirks a brow at them, trying to stifle their humor. "Are you dying? Please don't tell me you're dying. You haven't even gotten rich yet to leave me anything in your will."

MC laughs but it comes out a bit uncertain. High-pitched. Rowan knows them. The same way he knows Iris and Devyn. He knows all of them like the back of his hand. So it only takes him another second to realize it.

MC is nervous.

His heart does a weird somersault in his gut.

"I have a secrettttt," MC sing-songs. Even as a joke they still manage to sing with perfect pitch.

The four words are enough to shake his very world, but he manages an eye roll. "Fucking hell, we're not twelve. Just spit it out."

"Sorry." MC palms their face, a nervous laugh escaping them. God. This must be serious for MC to be nervous in front of him? Rowan has never really gave anyone the impression of a harsh judge. Hell, he's always been an open book. "I just...I'm in love with [RO]."

He wished he didn't rush them. He wished he didn't hear those words at all. He's half tempted to grab it from the air and shove it back into MC's mouth so they can pretend it never happened.

"What?" is all the fuzz in his brain can spit out.

MC throws their self back, a wildly breathless laugh escaping them. The sound is even better than Betty's notes. "WHEW. That felt good to say it. Is anyone hot in here? I know I am."

MC keeps babbling but all Rowan could hear is a white noise in his head. MC is in love with RO. MC is in love with them.

MC is in love with someone that's not him.

"I just needed to let that out." MC huffs, gazing around the room. "You should invite me next time you play. You know I like seeing you finger Betty."

Rowan can't even laugh at the dirty inside joke they've had between them since he bought Betty years ago. It suddenly makes him feel wholly small and largely ridiculous: Rowan will never be the person for MC. He will always be the goofy best friend that makes stupid, childish jokes about fingering his dumbass guitar and the one MC goes to when Devyn and Iris aren't available.

He's not even the second choice. He's the fucking fourth.

As if noticing the change in atmosphere, MC awkwardly purses their lips and says, "I should probably get back to my room and get some sleep. We have an early start tomorrow."

He blinks, managing a small nod. "Uh-huh." He runs a hand through his hair, feeling naked without his hat. "Right."

They stand and shoot Rowan a final look. "Thank you," they say after. a moment, "for being my friend."

He's really starting to hate that word.

But he smiles anyway. "Yeah. Ditto."

MC grins, spinning on the heel of their foot to leave the room. Rowan follows, waving lamely at them and watching as they disappear down the hall, whistling a merry tune. It's true; it does feel like a weight was lifted of their shoulders. They walk with a hop in their step. Rowan hates knowing it was RO that is responsible for that.

With a sigh he closes the door, leaning his forward against it. Spinning on his shoulder, he looks up at the ceiling.

"I need to get laid," he mumbles.

Though he has a feeling that won't do much to solve the problem in his heart.

#POV character studies are fun #though I'd like one with victoria or august #they're so underrated!!! #also this was a bit moody #I mean this level of internal pain is a taste of what most routes are going to look like in Infamous! #also pls excuse any typos or awkwars sentences i whipped this out and didn't edit it or anything i dont usually edit drabbles sorry! #also rowan is NOT AN LI!! accept it!!! live with it!!!!! (jk haha) #also idc if I’m 24 Olivia Rodrigo slaps!! #rowan hart #drabble

[sollucets]

between the two versions of my akkayan (the original / mostly scrapped / chopped-up one & my newer one) ive written like 6k words now and i still havent gotten to the original reason i wanted to do this gods give me patience

#i will GET THERE #rowan chatter #i swapped POV and location and . actually most things because the truth is it's kind of hard to avoid #a bit of *angst* bc. i mean. its the eclipse #and coming out like this is a tricky topic #but that wasn't actually supposed to be the point. the mood is supposed to be cute and hopeful and loving #so i had to get rid of all of my wretched and miserable little akks in favor of a softer conversation and aye pov #which i didnt originally want to do because i didnt want to get him wrong ;u; #i know how to be a repressed little gay ive been one of those most of my life #me and akk pov get along very well which is probably why it gets so Maudlin So Fast lmao #aye is harder for me to do and i love him so much i didnt wanna fuck it up #sigh #akk is still a little bit wretched and miserable but its gentler. so its ok #im also spending a lot less words on it lol #dvd commentary

[of-the-wingwatchers]

y'know what actually. if there was ever any sort of follow up to dragonslayer i really think that rowan should be a pov or at least a major character. with grove, cranberry, and thyme being important characters

because if there's more actual plot detail gone into the whole humans and dragons in a future installment to follow up on the events of dragonslayer. i really do think that it'd make sense to focus on them? like these guys decided to build their own village separate from talisman after leaf, ivy, and wren gave them the idea to and i'd imagine their new village would be fairly close to sanctuary considering how close talisman seems to be where i believe sanctuary is located? like...it's right there

plus rowan herself is already such a character. like she has potential especially after being one of the humans in scarlet's arena. as well as her friends helping her build the village - cranberry also fought in scarlet's arena, thyme was about to be served as dinner alongside leaf in the skywing kingdom, and as far as we know grove and his father might be the only survivors of their village that was burnt down by dragons. and these guys are building the village that's meant to help bring dragons and humans together? like i wouldn't be surprised if this just. wasn't thought about since these are side characters and all (human ones at that) but! yeah i think that could be interesting

#wings of fire #wingwatcher notes #rowan #scavengers #wof dragonslayer #(and by extension i firmly believe ivy should be a pov) #(hear me out. dragonslayer can be a good jumping point for a really good character arc since it felt more introductory at times) #(and there are uh. some things with ivy's character that should definitely be addressed and could definitely be developed!) #(i say this with affection i love her <3)

[muddshadow]

first lines tag

i think we can all agree WIP first lines change with the wind, BUT this is what i have so far <3 thank ye @tc-doherty for this tag!! i’ll tag @sentfromwolves , @theskeletonprior , @pinespittinink , @holyatlas , @emelkae​ , @morphaeus , and viewers like YOU !! *gazes directly into your eyes specifically*

TO FORGET A PRINCE //

After a tight-lipped reassessment, Yulei decided coming back to the academy wasn’t very wise after all. She’d been far too persuasive that morning. Perhaps the sleepless night sloughing through musty research journals and the excessively potent espresso spurred her thoughts to reckless places. Yulei now had the benefit of cold air and a granola bar to smarten her up, but the common sense arrived too late. 

Tall iron gates loomed the dirt road ahead, strangled by vines and rusted by time, a crumbled courtyard beyond the fencing. Morning mist glimmered the surrounding prairie. It smelled like damp earth and grass, and the sullen weather held the valley in a whisper. For a futile moment, Yulei considered turning on her heel and leaving. Until distant crow calls sounded from the courtyard.

A long sigh frosted her lips. Now it was most definitely much too late. “Sora is going to be pissed.”

BLOODHOUNDS //

After suffering through a tedious but necessary bout of hellos and how are you’s with the postal staff, Rowan said, “So, my new friends, you simply must hear my story.”

He didn’t wait for any response, because they weren’t his friends and he didn’t care if they preferred to listen. Rowan inhaled for a completely false tale, fabricated at the same pace the words rattled off his tongue.

TRYSTAN //

I do not like being woken up. That’s an entirely personal experience. Everyone’s got their routine checklist when they first greet the day—I start by smearing the crust out from my eyes, maybe pick my nose a little, then feel around for any grievous wounds that came about while unconscious. It’s an important morning process and no one has any right to interrupt, except maybe for a grievous wound. Today, it was just a wicked headache.

“Get lost,” I tell the boot nudging my ribcage, and refuse to open my eyes.

Someone scoffs above me. The kicks come harder. “Trystan,” a guy urges—and shit, I think I recognize the voice. I groan long at the thought.

AT THE BOTTOM OF THE WATERFALL //

In upscale Cherrybank, down Wetherford Avenue and nestled at a border of a crimson-leafed forest, there lived a magician. There were plenty of reasons to gossip about this magician—because she was powerful, because she was eccentric, and because for a brutal many years of kingdom warfare, she was the Red Queen’s personal Archmagi. Then she wasn’t much of anything. The eccentric magician kept plenty to herself, constantly gone and back again on mysterious long trips, and didn’t seem to mind the weeds growing in her reputation.

Even so, it was a momentous reputation. Standing in front of Magi Ysabelle Lavonde’s home, Louis felt very small.

THE HUNGER ROT //

From the moment they spotted her horse cresting the rise, the town guard knew the rider for a Marrow. She climbed the hill slow and entered town steady. Both her horse and the one tied to follow were good stock, tall and brown with mithril shoes flashing, the saddle heavy with two swords and a sturdy longbow, and the rider staring unflinchingly forward. A cloak shrouded her face from the gathering stares, but not quite the molten glint in her eye.

One thing in particular marked her a Marrow, and that was the linen-wrapped corpse draped over the second saddle.

MOUSE-HEARTED //

Sigur was a disagreeable young spark in every way she could be, and she devoted herself entirely to the effort. It earned several strong friends, tenacious like her and equally outspoken. It earned her several more adversaries who’d sooner have her unashamed tongue removed from mouth. It did not inspire anyone in the middle, because Sigur either burned hot like sunrays or skulked like frost, finding no value in halves or maybes, deceptions or civil posturing.

Perhaps that’s what gained her a role in the Eleven’s prophecy.

WINGS LIKE WAR //

Years ago, when the nights turned cold, Kimberly would leave her bedroom window open.

On especially cold nights, icy breaths of wind swelled the curtain and frost crawled across the glass. But Kim would burrow under blankets. And when she woke, when she emerged from her nest of quilts and lowered her legs to the hardwood, the morning cold kissed her toes awake. Kim thrived on that feeling. The floor like ice under her feet, the chills bristling her skin, the first crisp inhale. Tangible enough to ground her.

There were no windows in the estate bedrooms.

#mud writes #muddshadow #noticing that for first drafts i tend to write a little character intro and then finish with a short sentence to direct the story #my fave thing to write is dialogue so i found it interesting i don't have many dialogue openers?? #except for bloodhounds. but rowan is first pov and he is incapable of shutting up even in his sleep #anyway!! i would love to hear your favorites!!!! thanks to whoever reads <3 #wip. to forget a prince #wip. bloodhounds #wip. trystan #wip. waterfall #wip. hunger rot

[wiltingdecay]

sorry idk what ur tower patron looks like but anyway

ABAOSDBDINALASBPAOEBRKAPSD YES THIS IS IT. THIS IS EXACTLY IT 100% YOU GET ME BASIL

#asks #epoch-smog #very summarised version of the story is that the tower would frequently bring rowan into their realm to try and communicate with them #bc they're trying to be a good patron! they fucked up so hard with their first protegé that they wanna do it right this time! #except from rowan's pov they're basically just having a horrible reoccuring nightmare #about being chased up a never-ending tower that is falling apart and also on fire by a horrible deer monster #tldr tower needs to work on their communication skills #rowan aisling #the tower #rowan lore