#some kind of haunted

[highqueenofelfhame]

a/n: okay so chapter three of this might be up before ten of ciwyw simply because i'm excited about it and it's already like halfway done. i'm sorry if this is disappointing news BUT i promise it's a really really good chapter with delicious content. love u, thank you for reading <3

rowaelin // 5.6k words // skoh masterlist // masterlist

“I wish I could tell you guys about this bullshit, but it’s fucking classified,” Aelin hissed into the cell phone she had sandwiched between her ear and shoulder. To their credit, Elide and Lysandra tried to disguise their laughter on the other end, but it came back muffled all the same. The two were drunk on a beach somewhere in Ellywe, and it showed.

 Everyone knew that Aelin joining the Cadre would be a disaster one way or another. When the idea was proposed to her, she turned it down. Three different times. The bad blood with Rowan flowed so deep that she didn’t care about an increase in pay or the less boring missions that came along with it. Truthfully, she would rather be lost in the Staghorns somewhere with Aedion’s unit or back in the desert with the one that showed up to take over for the Cadre. 

 Yet when Darrow approached her with the idea a fourth time, stressing how much they needed an extra person, she caved. The claims that she was the only person fit for the job had gone to her head a little bit, and it was biting her in the ass. He had even brought in her Uncle Gavriel to talk to her about going. The bastard knew that it would sway her, and it had worked. Now that this mission required them to be married, she was pretty sure it had been in the works for a little longer than they knew, and convincing Aelin to join them was the final piece of the puzzle. 

 Currently, she was quickly washing her hands in a bathroom at the Rifthold International Airport. The flight had been sixteen hours, and she was desperate for a bath that didn’t require body wipes to make her smell decent. The boys were probably waiting for her, but she didn’t care. Rare was it that she could use her personal phone to call her friends, and godsdammit, she was going to take advantage.

 “Is he still an ass?” Lysandra asked as Aelin ripped a few paper towels from the dispenser to dry her hands.

 “Of course he is. He has the nerve to act like he’s the one that was scorned! As if I didn’t fight tooth and nail for our relationship to work until the physical and emotional distance was too much to deal with.” She huffed as she poked her bags with her boot, fingers pulling her braid over her shoulder just to have something to do with her hands.

“I mean, you have to come to some sort of truce to make it work,” Elide piped in, crunching sounds filling the space between words while she snacked. 

 “I know. Gods, I know. It’s just harder than I thought it would be.” Aelin sighed, her chest decompressing as several women scurried into and out of stalls around her. “I should go.”

 “Where are you, anyway?” Lys asked.

 “I can’t say, but I can allude that I’m closer to home.”

 “Can you get a normal job? You coming on vacations would be fun.” Elide’s sad-drunk tendencies were starting to peek through, making Aelin smile.

“If Rowan doesn’t kill me first, I might end my active-duty career as soon as possible after this shit is done.” It was only half a joke. Being this close to Rowan was already far more taxing than she imagined. If anything, she thought they might ignore each other and carry on with their jobs like responsible adults. Sure, she knew her old wounds were tender at best, but the explosive tension was slightly unexpected. 

 The three muttered their goodbyes as she hefted her bags onto her shoulders and filed out of the bathroom, immediately spotting Lorcan and Rowan’s heads towering over everyone else near the exit to baggage claim. Aelin forced her shoulders back and stood straight as she could. 

 Approaching Rowan was a battle of its own sort. She had to be ready for a fight constantly. There was just no way of telling if she was walking straight into the line of fire or not.

 ~*~

 The house they would be living in was beautiful. It was a large estate sitting on the cleaner side of the Avery River, nestled back in a little grove of oak trees. A large iron gate kept any outsiders from easily getting onto the property, but it was so far off any main road that they didn’t anticipate trespassers being much of a problem. 

 Not that it really mattered– every inch of the land surrounding the house was under twenty-four-seven surveillance that they could watch from inside. The day before, a tech team had come in to set up all the equipment they would need for quick and secure communication with their superiors. Though the equipment they used was always the best the Terrasen government had to offer, it was always a little more fun to use when stationed in a big city. 

 Though the house had six bedrooms, they quickly learned during the initial walk-through that three were being used for mission-related activities. One room comprised a large desk and about a dozen monitors for surveillance; another had enough desk space for all six of them with room to spare, and the third was primarily for communication. It was filled with phones and computers connected to a highly secure network that, in theory, was breach-proof. 

 That left three rooms for the six of them to divvy into, and Aelin tried to cut the corners of arguing with who was sleeping where by quickly voicing her own option. 

 “I’ll room with Fenrys. Lorcan and Rowan can share and–”

“No.” Rowan’s response was immediate and flat. A single eyebrow quirked up as she slowly pivoted on one heel to look at him. His eyes, however, were on Fenrys. It had been years, and apparently, their casual affection was still grating on his nerves like soft cheese. 

“No?” She questioned, arms folding over her chest. Rowan slid his gaze to her face as the others took a few casual steps away as if they would rather be anywhere but in the middle of their divorced parent’s fight.

“No.” The word was harder, more final this time. 

“Fine, you and me then?” She threw a hand in the air for sarcastic flair and laughed sardonically.  Surely he would drop his weapons and retreat with arms raised, but he didn’t. It surprised everyone in the room, herself more than the rest. 

“Fine.” Shock washed over her in a static wave, running across her body like an electrical current. Everything buzzed from her fingers to her toes as he told no one in particular, “We get the master.”

Nobody was going to disagree with his claim. The two of them needed as much space between them as possible. With all the tension and white-hot energy, they could hardly share a room for meetings, much less a bed. Mala must have boiled his brain to sludge during their stay in the desert. He clearly wasn’t thinking things through.

She was further surprised when he yanked both their bags off the floor where they’d dumped them upon entry and headed toward the north wing of the house. Aelin glanced at Lorcan, hoping he would have something to say on the matter, but he shrugged and grabbed his own bags, shouting that Vaughan was with him as he did. Fenrys, at least, looked as confused as she felt.

 “Have fun with… whatever the fuck that was,” Connall told her, the three remaining men collecting their bags from the floor. 

“You really put your foot in your mouth this time, didn’t you, babe?” Fen drawled, ruffling her hair and following his brother.

“You’re all traitors!” She called as they dispersed, leaving her to begrudgingly march toward the room Rowan had claimed for them. Their low chuckles followed her down the hall, and she was pretty fucking sure she even heard Lorcan laughing with them. 

 When she reached the master bedroom, she was pleasantly surprised at the size of it. A king-size bed was centered against one wall, each side with its own lamps and nightstands. The large bay window on the right side had a bench perfect for reading in if she ever found herself with downtime. There were two doors to the left of the bed. One led to a large bathroom with a shower and a huge bathtub that she would most definitely be soaking in soon. The other was a walk-in closet that rivaled the one she had at home. 

 It was also where she found Rowan.

 Each side of the closet had plenty of drawers and space for hanging clothes and a dozen or so cubbies scattered about. Rowan stood to one side, unpacking his clothes and placing them into drawers. She pretended she didn’t notice that he had chosen the left side– the same as when they lived together.

 Aelin followed suit, kneeling on the floor by her bag and dividing things amongst her drawers. Since they were in need of civilian attire for the mission, she would be going out to purchase new things sometime tomorrow before the real work began. For now, she just wanted a shower and a nap. 

Rowan had slipped out moments before she was finished. Once satisfied with her portion of the closet, she entered the bedroom to find him peering through the curtains, eyes scanning the backyard. He didn’t seem to notice her, or if he did, he chose to say nothing. Taking a deep breath, she wrapped her arms around her body and steeled herself for another fight.

 “Is it okay if I shower first?”

 “Yep.” His fingers released the curtain, and it slipped shut, the sheer fabric not doing much to shield them from the outside world. Aelin made a mental note to get some blackout curtains tomorrow, both for safety and to keep the early morning sun out when she had the luxury of sleeping past five am. 

 “Are you sure?” For once, she wasn’t pushing to get on his nerves. If he wanted the bathroom to himself first, she would allow it if it meant no verbal sparring.

 “I already said yes, Aelin.” The edge of his words was sharp and short as a brand-new dagger. So much for not fighting.

 “You don’t get to do this.” She blurted, fingers gripping her shirt tightly.

 “I don’t get to do what, exactly?” Rowan looked at her then, eyebrows slightly raised and shoulders tense. At his sides, his hands were rolling up into fists. 

“Be pissy about our sleeping arrangements when you’re the one that booted out my perfectly good option.”

 “You were doing it to fuck with me, and I’m not giving you the satisfaction,” he said calmly, taking up a casual fighting stance: feet shoulder-width apart, arms folded over his chest, muscles coiled and ready to strike.

 “I was doing it because I highly doubt the other three would want to catch me in any state of undress accidentally, and only me and Connall can handle Fenrys full time,” she shot back. Her fingernails dug into the skin beneath her shirt like they would sew her up if she fell apart. The tendons in Rowan’s neck were visible, hard lines. If she were closer, she would probably be able to see his pulse pounding against his skin.  “I don’t know why you think I’m just here to fuck up your life. I didn’t even want this job to begin with.”

 Hating that she was the first to retreat, she walked to the closet to gather what she would need for her shower. Footsteps followed her, stopping in the doorway as Rowan asked, “What is that supposed to mean?”

 “Which part?” Aelin plucked a pair of boring cotton underwear from the drawer. 

“That you didn’t want this job.” Selecting a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, she turned to face him with her facial expression calling him ten kinds of stupid.

“It means that I didn’t want this fucking job.” Maybe she drew out every word a little more slowly on purpose to needle beneath his skin. The feathering of his jaw said it worked.

“I understood that part.” He sounded frustrated, his fingernails white where they pressed into his biceps. “You didn’t ask for the transfer?”

 “I turned it down three times. In the last few weeks, Darrow was up my ass about it. Even had Uncle Gav try to convince me, so I caved. Did you think I asked for this to come rain a special kind of hell down on your head?” 

“I wouldn’t put past you,” he retorted, and something in her broke. Just a little bit. 

“Contrary to whatever bullshit you’ve made up about me to craft me into your villain, I was perfectly content to never see you again. I don’t want to work with you, I don’t want to share a single molecule of oxygen with you, and I don’t want to constantly be ready to fight with you at the drop of a hat. This isn’t what I wanted for my career or my personal life. I’m here because I took an oath to protect my country, and despite my multiple refusals, they wanted me here with this unit.” Aelin shoved past him, her shoulder ramming into his arms as she did. “Do us both a favor and get over yourself, Rowan. This self-centered bullshit is exactly why I fucking left you.”

Though she hadn’t meant to be quite so dramatic, the bathroom door slammed in his face when she closed it. The sickly feeling of guilt washed over her at the look on his face. That last hateful sentence wasn’t even supposed to be said out loud. Did she even mean it?

Aelin didn’t realize she was holding her breath until she finally heard his footsteps retreat from the room and a heavy exhale whooshed from her lungs.

~*~

“Aelin, I–” His hands reached for her, but she smacked them away hard enough that it stung his palms.

 “No, no, no. I told you a thousand times if you took another deployment, I was done. And there is just no–” Aelin let out a gasping sob, one hand on her heart and the other wrapped around her torso. Unable to stop himself, he tried to pull her to him. If he could just calm her down, it would be okay.

Before his fingers could even graze her skin, she stumbled backward. A gust of wind had rain blowing at him from behind. He wasn’t sure if his face was wet with tears from his eyes or the sky. 

 “Baby–” The back of Aelin’s wrist pressed to her mouth and did nothing to muffle the sob. Knowing he was the source of her pain had him wishing for a lightning strike. 

 “There is no coming back from this.” The words were almost carried away in the storm. Not once had he ever heard her speak so softly, so broken. Tears streamed down her cheeks and neck, soaking the collar of her t-shirt while she shook her head and pointed for him to leave with a shaky finger. Her other hand was still pushing her heart back into her chest. “There is no coming back.”

The front door slammed in his face and triggered a final fissure in his heart that had his heart and soul shattering into a million jagged pieces on the rain-soaked ground. 

A firm hand on his shoulder made him jerk forward, twisting on his heel. A soldier through and through, he started to go on the defensive. Just as he reached for his attacker, he realized it was Lorcan and dropped his hands, shaking his head to clear his mind of the memory.

 Lorcan’s eyebrows knit together in confusion as he said, “I said your name twice.” 

 “Sorry. What’s up?” Rowan hadn’t meant to be so wrapped up in his thoughts as he stood on the back porch. A mirror image of the gloomy gray sky reflected on the surface of the swimming pool. The sound of the door slamming in his face still echoed in his ears, but he didn’t know if it was the past or present that haunted him. Probably both. 

 “I want to go over what needs to be done this week,” Lorcan told him, nodding toward the house. Through the windows, he could see everyone lounging on the couches and chairs that made up the formal living room. Each of them held a folder; Aelin’s was in her lap, where she curled up in the corner of the couch. Deft fingers twined her damp hair into a braid over her shoulder. Lorcan’s eyes followed his gaze as he braced his hands on his hips. “Do you need to talk about it before we go in?” 

“I don’t know what there is to say.”

 “Look, I am by no means any sort of authority on relationships, but the fact that you two can barely be in the same room without starting a fight shows how deep it all goes. You sure as fuck aren’t over it–” Lorcan gave him a stern look when he opened his mouth to object, then continued, “And neither is she. You can both act like you don’t care, but you do. At some point, an olive branch needs to be extended one way or the other. Otherwise, it will stack up to messy mistakes in the field and you’ll both drag everyone else down with you. I can’t allow that. So find a truce. Wave your white flag if you fucking have to. Talk about it. Fuck it out. I don’t care. But don’t let it compromise the job.” 

 Rowan nodded, hands sliding into his pockets as he took a deep breath. All of those things were easier said than done. If they were ever going to talk it out, they would both have to come to some peace with the past and present. Right now, he wasn’t sure how to do that. His behavior had clearly torn into her with a jagged blade, the same way her leaving him did. Both had raw, gaping wounds that were still bloody from the battle. The time apart had done nothing to heal either of them. If anything, it made it worse. 

 There wasn’t ever supposed to be so much distance, time, or emotion stretched between them, to begin with. Rowan could strut around like he didn’t care all he wanted to, but he did care. Looking at her made it hard to breathe. 

 “Did you ever, at any point in your relationship, tell her about what happened to Lyria?” Lorcan asked, just as Rowan took a step toward the house. His teeth snapped together so hard that it hurt, narrowly missing a bite of his tongue. “Maybe start there.”

“I don’t think it would matter at this point.”

 “Not that I don’t think she’s a swaggering asshole ninety-nine percent of the time or anything–” Rowan snorted, looking back at Aelin through the window. She was looking back. “– But she isn’t a bitch. Not all the time, anyway.”

 Part of him wanted to throttle Lorcan for talking about her that way, but their personalities had always been mixing oil and water. Even still, Lorcan would never hold his personal relationship against her. She was far too good of an asset. 

 “Can I ask something of you?” Rowan inquired, restlessly scratching the back of his neck. His eyes didn’t leave Aelin’s, and she tilted her head curiously. Almost as if, despite their fight, she was trying to inquire if he was okay. 

 “Of course.” Rowan sidestepped out of view, not wanting her to read his lips as he looked at his commander. Lorcan leaned against the table that decorated the patio, an open and caring demeanor slipping into place. 

“If anything on this mission goes sideways, if it ever comes down to a split second when it has to be her or me… I don’t care if it’s a temporary thing where you come back for me later or we’re both bleeding out somewhere, whatever the situation is. If shit goes down and it’s her or me, you take her.” Green eyes bore fiercely into onyx ones. Lorcan’s eyes widened in surprise and something that looked a little like fear.  

“Rowan…” He wasn’t one to leave a man behind, but Rowan knew all too well that sometimes it became a necessary call to make. When forced with a split-second decision about who lived or died, the luxury of time to juggle your choices didn’t always exist. This oath would take the struggle out of it. 

 “Promise me that you will get her out first.” He hated the way his voice cracked like the fissures in his heart. Hated that he was prepared to fall to his knees and beg if it might save her life at any point in the future. Yet he knew that he would if Lorcan refused. The bad terms he and Aelin were on didn’t matter. Rowan would never forgive himself or his comrades if he woke up and something had happened to her. “Promise me, Lorcan.”

 He wished he could tell himself it was for selfish reasons. That he was asking to clear his conscience should it ever become a reality. Deep down, he knew it had nothing to do with that, though. It had nothing to do with guilt and everything to do with her and the wildfire of unresolved feelings that haunted his waking and sleeping hours. 

 Rowan tried to get over her. Attempting to lose himself through sex with other women had been a fruitless endeavor. No amount of boiling showers had made him feel clean, like any level of intimacy with someone that wasn’t Aelin left behind an oily residue he couldn’t wash away. After the third time, he quit trying. It felt too much like cheating on her, like betraying her, even if she had been the one to leave him. 

 He had followed her career over the last two and a half years. Though she had passed on another deployment when she thought he would too, months after the breakup, he heard she was back in it. Lorcan had passed him details of her missions, and Rowan had a mental list of every injury she had ever received. Nothing had been remotely close to life-threatening, but he felt every one of those wounds like they’d happened to him. It had been difficult not to follow up with her directly to see if she was okay, but she was better off without him. Of that, he was certain. 

Being part of the same unit, he would do whatever he could to protect her. It hadn’t surprised Lorcan when Rowan declared he would always choose her first the morning she arrived. The commander made him swear that it wouldn’t compromise any missions, and it wouldn’t. But for Rowan, if the choice were anyone else or Aelin, he would save Aelin first. Now he needed to be sure someone else would choose her over him. 

“Okay. I promise,” Lorcan finally swore, his eyes saying that he hoped for all the world it never came down to it.

When they made their way inside, there were two seats available. One was smack dab between Aelin and Fenrys; the other was an overstuffed chair near the window. Rowan knew for a fact that the two blondes had been sitting side by side moments earlier and knew that one or both of them had done this on purpose. They lived in a constant state of scheming and had been driving Rowan insane from the moment their friendship began.

Lorcan hijacked the chair, which left Rowan to drop onto the sofa between Bonnie and Clyde. He swore the commander was fighting off his smirk while settling into the chair away from the drama. Bastards. All of them were bastards. It was starting to feel like everyone had been part of a private meeting on the best ways to drive Rowan insane with Aelin around. 

“Here,” Aelin said softly, nudging his arm with a folder. Nodding his thanks, he flipped it open and began skimming the pages while Lorcan got into what the next few days would look like. Every breath he took was more shallow than it needed to be, but he would lose his mind if he inhaled deep enough to smell her jasmine shampoo. 

He tried to focus on Lorcan’s words, but sitting beside Aelin was a distraction in itself. The promise their commander had just made soothed a small part of his chest, even if he thought she would throttle him if she ever found out about it. The woman beside him was more than capable of taking care of herself, yes, but Rowan needed that security blanket to fall back on if things went to hell.

 Aelin nudged him with her elbow, and he blinked, looking into her quizzical gaze. It was strange to find a hint of concern hidden behind the brilliant band of gold around her iris. With a shake of his head, he looked at the folder in his lap and tuned his ears to Lorcan’s voice. Right. Now was definitely not the time to think about this. 

 They would start by surveilling the notorious Glass Castle. It was imperative they find out how easily the outside guards could be distracted and bribed. While they had inside contacts close to the prince working with them under extremely delicate conditions, they needed to see if anyone was willing to waver. Finding the weak links could lead to it all being over before an assassination attempt began.

 The Prince’s closest and really only friend was his captain of the guard. Through their contacts, he agreed to work with them on the castle’s blueprints and help them however he could. If everything went smoothly, nobody would die, lose their jobs, or be accused of treason, and in the process, their president would be safe from the fallout.

“We need to take passport photos in the morning, and someone is coming by tomorrow afternoon to stage some pictures of our Duke and Duchess over here.” Rowan and Aelin’s heads both snapped up at neck-breaking speed.

“What?” Rowan said, eyes darting to Aelin. There was no way in hell she would be okay with this.

“All of the royals in Fenharrow have websites,” she answered for Lorcan. “Do I get to wear a pretty gown?”

“You’ll wear whatever shows up, and you won’t give anybody any shit about it,” was the commander’s flat response. Aelin’s smoldering gaze told him she would do as she pleased, but her eyes wandered back down to the pages in her lap. If the wardrobe weren’t to her taste, they would surely hear about it no matter what Lorcan said.

“Box dye is going to absolutely ruin our hair.” Rowan didn’t know anything about that. According to his passport, he had blonde hair and brown eyes. Curiosity got the better of him, and he leaned a little toward Aelin to see what hers said. With a flick of her wrist, it was turned toward him so he could see better. Red hair, green eyes. Rowan had a hard time imagining it.

“Are you going to complain the whole time?” Lorcan snapped. Aelin, to her credit, grinned.

 “Maybe. It’s fun getting under everyone’s skin so easily.” 

It felt like a jab with one of the daggers she favored. A quick stab into his back, the twist of the blade as it sunk deeper. Rowan sat up straight and tried to keep from crumpling the papers in his hands.

It might not be an outright bloody war, but every vaguely altruistic word that left her mouth made him tenser than any gunfight ever did.

 ~*~

A book lay open upon the pillow in her lap, eyes skimming the pages when Rowan soundlessly opened the door and slipped into their room. He was clearly hoping she would be asleep when he came to bed to avoid any awkward interactions or heated arguments. Aelin was too tired for anything beyond a few pulled punches tonight and closed her book. The t-shirt he wore was pulled over his head in a single, fluid motion, and he slipped between the sheets. After placing her nightly read on the bedside table, she snuggled under the blankets. Rowan was on his back staring at the fan when she turned her light off. Aelin lay on her side, facing him straight on.

“This is… weird,” he admitted as the air deflated from his lungs in a deep sigh.

“Sleeping together or, however fake it may be, being married to me when you never wanted it in the first place?” Aelin wasn’t sure why flames kept spewing out of her mouth every time they spoke. Closure was what she was after, yet she knew it wouldn’t come this way. It was more of a defense mechanism than anything else.

“We aren’t doing this tonight, Aelin. I’m tired.” Rowan rolled onto his side, facing away from her, hand smacking at his pillow before he settled against it. 

Through the dim moonlight slipping through those sheer curtains, she could make out the scars on his back. Some she knew, others she didn’t. Without thinking, she reached out and touched one she didn’t recognize. Rowan’s inhale was sharp, shoulders expanding and muscles tightening beneath her fingers. As tense as he was, his body betrayed him in the form of goose flesh over his skin. 

“Rowan?” Aelin must have been imagining his jagged breaths. It sounded too much like shredding self-control to be real. 

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry. For today, I’m sorry.” Doused in a burning tension, she traced her fingers over another pale scar on his back. Tears pricked her eyes over the featherlight touches she made, at the emotion that welled up in her throat. This sort of casual intimacy used to be second nature. Aelin hated that her fingers craved to touch more of him, all of him. They never thought about touching before; they just always were. It had once been necessary, vital even. Now he was a coiled asp ready to strike, waiting for the fighting words she couldn’t find. 

“Okay,” he finally whispered back on an exhale. 

“I didn’t mean to slam the door, either. I know you won’t believe me, but I–”

“I do believe you.” Her throat was suddenly tight as she swallowed, dropping her hand from his back. Sometime soon, she would ask how he got those new markings. Maybe Fenrys would have the answers if her cowardice won over and she couldn’t ask him herself.

“Okay,” she parroted, the word muffled by the blanket as she pulled it up and tucked her face into it. 

Seconds stretched into minutes before he rolled onto his back, head turning to face her. With her eyes more adjusted to the dark, she could tell he was looking at her. They didn’t say anything, just took each other in. It was the first quiet moment they’d shared since her arrival. Somehow, the heaviness of this moment was far more abundant than the times they were yelling.

“Were you talking about me when you said it’s fun to get under our skin?”

“I’ve always liked getting under your skin,” she teased, but he didn’t smile. Aelin’s own faltered, mouth twisted to the side as she considered it. Yes, she had. “It is fun but… I didn’t mean it quite how it sounded. I haven’t been picking fights with you the last few days for shits and giggles. I’m sure you aren’t doing it for that reason either.”

It’s what she wanted to believe, anyway. Perhaps it made her naive, but she knew Rowan. Even if they hated each other, they didn’t like causing the other unnecessary pain.

 “Why are we fighting then?” The bald vulnerability he gave had her mouth parting in surprise. Of all the ways she saw this first night going, a calm discussion was nowhere on the list. Murder definitely was, but this? 

 “I don’t think we know how to be around each other like this,” she said slowly. “We had moments of bickering when we first met, sure, but…” 

The words she wanted to say would strip her a little more bare than she wanted to be, yet she wasn’t ready to let the moment go. Rowan saw her hesitation and waited patiently, eyes scanning her face as though he could sneak into her mind and steal the thoughts for himself. Tomorrow the fires would rage again but for tonight? Tonight she would settle close to the truth without laying it all at his feet.

“But?” Aelin sighed and shook her head.

“We’ve always been intense,” she shrugged a shoulder. “Now that we aren’t in love, I guess it’s just going to be in the form of verbal sparring and screaming matches. Maybe a few physical blows during training.”

Aelin averted her eyes, slipping her fingers out from beneath the blanket to inspect her nails. It probably looked as stupid as it felt, considering she could hardly see, but Rowan didn’t call her on it. Nor did he point out how unlike her it was to balk from a conversation, yet here she was, being a coward and avoiding his gaze. It was a half-truth wrapped up in a teasing taunt at best and clearly not the answer he sought.

It wasn’t fair that he still had her tied up in so many knots. For years she paraded around, pretending she was over it and it didn’t matter anymore. Not being in love with Rowan was one of the biggest lies she’d ever told, one she whispered to herself every time she found him looking at her. It was a foolish, stupid mask she wore to hide the pain of the ugly, bleeding truth of everything. 

Rowan handled it better than she did, and it hurt more than she would ever admit. 

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[ao3feeddestiel]

Some kind of haunted

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/bHTVKoz by fififeelsmellow Letter? Thoughts? Post s15 end. "You will always be my choice of ache." Words: 310, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Supernatural (TV 2005) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural) Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester Additional Tags: Destiel - Freeform, Not Beta Read, cannot believe i'm writing a destiel fic in 2023, One Shot read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/bHTVKoz

#IFTTT #Some kind of haunted #fififeelsmellow

[gendzl]

I was recently asked to name 3 of the Great Lakes during a mental eval and now I'm curious about just how standard it actually is for people to know them, so

#¶ #polls #I've been haunted by the inclusion of this question. what does it MEAN. #like. genuinely. someone not knowing 3 of the great lakes cannot possibly be indicative of some kind of problem

[babythegod]

My boy was a montage, a slow motion love potion.

#he was sunshine i was midnight rain #he wanted it comfortable i wanted that pain #he wanted a bride i was making my own name #midnights #midnights 3am edition #i love it #some kind of haunted

[chantellelauren]

#some kind of haunted

[nelkcats]

Lost Bird Returns

It wasn't strange that Danny chased Desiree, or that she refused to return to the Infinite Realms. What was strange was that she decided to leave Amity Park.

That made things 200% more difficult for the halfa because outside of Amity no one had the "no desiring" rule; while Danny was grateful that Amity was kept "secret" and no one knew what was going on inside (and that was a pain in the ass to accomplish), it was also a disadvantage in those situations.

Mainly because Desiree could stay invisible and listen to people's wishes. Like at that moment, where he found her smiling next to Batman, and damn it, what wish had she granted?

Batman, unaware of his unfortunate situation, was watching the streets of Gotham gloomily. It was Jason's death anniversary and they'd had another fight, which happened a lot in those days, but Bruce couldn't help but think of simpler days.

"I wish he could get his spark back" the dark knight lamented, accidentally sealing his son's fate.

And though Danny had caught Desiree in the thermos, the wish had already been made. The halfa didn't know enough to reverse it either.

A few days later rumors began to be heard of a ghost haunting Gotham. A boy dressed in a burnt uniform with a strange look on his face.

Robin, the lost part of Jason Todd that had been trapped in the Realms so long ago was back, and not even the Lazarus Pits would keep him away this time.

#dpxdc #halfa jason #ghost jason todd #the lazarus pits took a part of Jason when he revived #although they rather separated a part of him and left it behind #they replaced that missing part with anger and fury #but that part was left behind in the Realms #confused and incomplete #dp x dc #dc x dp #when Bruce made the wish #Desiree simply brought the ghost out of its haunt #and she located him in gotham #Jason is about to suffer some emotional Russian roulette #Robin's ghost is looking for his missing part and won't leave until he's whole again #He's the spark that Jason lost #Danny heard about the ghost in Gotham and he's not happy about it #he did so much for Amity to be some kind of Area 51 damn it

[smeltbracket]

more angels and more devils

#solar opposites #tervo #terry devil is telling him to go to dave and busters #instead of fixing the ship or praying to the candle or whatever #i like drawing terry as some kind of impish little frog that’s haunting korvo (more examples of this to come later) #terry #korvo #solaropposites

[theonewhereistudy]

I've been lost for a long time because I enrolled for university, and life now feels as if it's on hold since I don't know how my days will be when I start it. Sometimes I'll think too much about other people and how they are managing their lives and how I'm so late in comparison to them; I used to be better in letting these thoughts go away, I guess I'm just very anxious and not managing it properly; I also think a lot about the future and how we are all walking to the non existence and I think that for now there's no mindset that can soothe my soul. 2023 is full of new scenarios in my life, I've always been afraid of change, even tho I've gone through so many changes in life, but I never paid much attention to these transitions, because they weren't violent ones. Life is unpredictable; Change is in every corner waiting, and she never has the same face or touch, maybe I should start to look at her as a friend that is always somewhere else living adventures, and once in a while will show up and bring new winds, good or bad, I never know; but as a friend, I should go through these situations and help her, until she's ready to leave to her adventures again, and I'll wait.

#college #student #study aesthetic #notes #productivity #study inspiration #study space #university #study motivation #venting #i should write this kind of stuff in my journal #but sometimes its easier to write on a haunted tumblr post #made myself some good breakfast because ill forget to eat during thebday #dont know what to do with myself #leaving my body would be nice #studying #studyblr #studyspo

[r0semultiverse]

Liminal spaces?? The distortion, is that you?? 👀👀👀

Today I learned where Liminal Space terminology came from.

Architectural hunger, huh? 👀

Time distortions eh? 👀

A soulless fairground?? Wait wasn't there a tma episode that had one of those?? I just woke up, I might be wrong.

Lights in the dark??? Glowing mist?? Wait... mist... the lonely?? 👀

This sounds like a combination of the distortion & the lonely to me.

A tall woman you say? HELEN???? 👀👀👀

Inviting you inside?!?! Real distortion type energy. 👀 Wish she'd invite me inside. 🥺

"You are here, stay a while!" Helen or whoever, don't mind if I do. 🤭

"her rictus grin stayed as wide as ever" yeah that seems about right.

Who is cooking inside the distortion? 😩 lmao

Bro walked into the AI generated restaurant.

Jujutsu Kaisen domain expansion uncanny restaurant, stay a while!

"It don't bite- yes it do!"

100% feels like the spiral tried to eat him.

I love Alice's sass. 💜

Contractors?? 👀

"Assuming any of us are still here by then." Hey, don't say that.

Gwen, not everything is about work. 🙄

Sam & Celia left without signing out? Uh-oh.

Gerry?! 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀 HUH?? HOW???

Why is he so cheery? Lobotomy archives canon? /j

Gigi..???? 👀

GERTUDE?!?!

That silence was deafening. Gifted kids program?? 👀

"I don't think Gerry can help you." "Yeah I barely remember any of it."

"Asking me what books I like to read."

Someone isn't saying something or disclosing something they could be, it feels like.

"Other than just sitting around with a bunch of other kids in a room that smelled like old books."

Were they trying to create avatars? 👀👀👀

That painting is going to be important. 👀

"It was my idea, remember?" Of course it was Celia, you know so much about so much. (Question is, why do you know?)

"maybe you can help me with my mystery?" Celia?? 👀

"I’m trying to look into… Weird physics stuff: time travel, other dimensions, teleportation, all that good stuff." HUH?!? 👀👀👀

"Then yeahh. I'm doing a favor for Georgie." I don't buy it.

Wait, What The Ghost exists still or exists in a new universe?? 👀👀👀 Georgie?! 👀

#this is 100% giving helen richardson distortion spiral vibes #also the lonely too with the mist #fear of liminal spaces maybe???? #some kind of spiral lonely fusion #these new or different avatars seem to make their own little domains #I do not buy into Celia's reasoning tbh #I have sooooo many questions; but that painting from Gerry Keay is absolutely 100% haunted #also Gertrude Robinson is still around?? #tmagp liveblog #op #mine #tmagp 8 #tmagp spoilers #tmagp #the magnus protocol #the magnus archives #tma #tma spoilers

[twsted-canvas]

Leota Dorm Uniform SSR

"Yeah, sure, I'll come along. Just don't do anything stupid, okay?"

#Eri's Art #Standing on the table shaking some poor souls collar: the candelabra is a reference to the floating one in the haunted mansion ride get it? #ANYway this was fun :') #leota yuleman #Quite the unwhimsical last name you might be thinking but that was kind of the point hahahaha #I wanted her to just feel and look like like some random joe just yoinked from our world with nothing initially noticeable about her. #Still kept the “yu” part in there though ;) #One day I'll make a proper profile for her... one day :') #twisted wonderland #twst oc #twst sona #artists on tumblr

[drysaladandketchup]

5 mattdrai for the writing meme please

I wasn't entirely sure how I wanted to handle this prompt, but I hope it's still to your liking, anon :)

5. things you didn’t say at all

"Hey."

Matthew really isn't in the mood for this right now. He was having a good time being back home in St. Louis for his first All-Stars, talking to some of the best players in the league, watching the skills competition, going out with the guys, and now the game is in a couple hours--

"Tkachuk."

Yeah, no, he's real. That's Draisaitl yelling at him. Well, he isn't yelling, but since he apparently is so hard pressed to even be around Matthew, it'll probably escalate to that soon.

I'd probably get off the ice.

Even if it was a joke--and maybe Matthew is willing to entertain the idea that it had been, coming from mister 'taken out of context'--it makes sharing the locker room awkward.

The thing is, he kind of likes Draisaitl. Admires his game, anyways, even if he is playing for fucking Edmonton. If Matthew had actually been drafted by the Oilers back then, like he thought, they probably could have been friends.

If he's being honest with himself, he kind of likes Draisaitl beyond hockey, too. Because he'd watched Leon's interviews, checked out his Instagram a little--he was curious, sue him--and because McDavid talks a lot when they're training at Gary's. Also, come on, Matthew's not blind. He hates the concept of him in Edmonton, but it's not fair to say Matthew genuinely hates the guy.

Right now though, this may be the first time he's heard Draisaitl ever actually say his name, and he wishes it was anyone else.

"Hey. Hang on." Draisaitl is in front of him now, stony and unreadable, and only then does Matthew realise like a fool that he has actually stopped. They're face-to-face, alone in one of the maintenance halls, the hustle and bustle of the arena a distant hum.

Matthew stares at him, not unkindly, because his mom taught him some damn manners, but not openly friendly, either. Not until he can get a gauge on what Draisaitl wants. Leon. It's Leon. That feels like the only thing Matthew really knows about the guy, sometimes.

"Did you want something?" Matthews asks coolly, leaning against the bricks with his hands shoved deep in the pocket of his sweater.

Leon glances down the hall, up to the buzzing florescent lights, running fingers through his hair. It's hard not to follow his tongue when it pokes out to wet his lips. Damn it, he has no business looking this good.

"I wanted to talk to you," he finally says, and even after all this time Matthew is still caught off guard by how soft he sounds.

"Talk to me?" Matthew narrows his eyes. "I didn't think you'd even want to be seen with me."

Which is a shame, because they'd look pretty damn good together. In his opinion, anyways.

Leon doesn't take the bait. "I saw that interview you did."

"Buddy, you're going to have to be more specific. I've done a few lately. It's the All-Stars."

"Before the break. I don't remember with who. NBC, I think? They asked you about me. What I said."

He doesn't need to elaborate. Matthew raises a brow, scratches the sudden itch at his neck. The air in the hallway is stuffy and warm.

"What about it? I said you were a great player."

"After that, though."

Leon doesn't need to elaborate on that, either. The intensity of his stare does the job well enough.

What did Matthew say again? I probably can't answer that or he'll get mad at me.

Yeah, because the only thing running through his head when he heard what Leon said was, Well damn that sucks because I wanted to find out if he fucks better than he fights. He remembers biting his lip because his brain unhelpfully supplied him with some tempting ideas that were not exactly family friendly. He's twenty-two, he's got hormones, what's he going to do?

But he was pretty sure declaring he wants to fuck a rival player wasn't going to win him any favours with anyone, let alone Leon. And maybe that comment irked him a little in the moment, but no one's opinion matters to Matthew more than his own. Accidentally outing himself during an interview was not high on his list of career moves, so he'd played it safe, locked it all down, and assumed that'd be the end of it.

"I didn't say anything," Matthew says.

This feels strange. Leon doesn't look pissed, he looks curious. Piqued, like he's waiting to hear something specific.

"I know."

"So what's your problem?"

"What were you going to say?"

Matthew cocks his head. "What, you thought I was going to burst into tears because the German Gretzky doesn't like me?"

Except he knows Leon's not an asshole. Not all the time, anyways. Not off the ice. Which makes it fucking hard to just blow him off.

"You were all over us that game," Leon says. "Kass was pissed. You're a fucking pest, what the hell did you expect me to say?"

"Is this you trying to apologise? Because if it is, you're doing a hell of a job."

"You never hold back on anything."

"Why the hell does it matter?" Christ, it's like Leon is trying to pick a fight.

"You looked like you had something to say." There's a hint of suspicion--of implication--in Leon's voice that makes Matthew tense.

"You think I'm an asshole, so I don't know why you care."

Maybe this is a prank. Maybe he figured it all out and he's waiting for Matthew to break down and declare, I think I could fall in love with you if you let me.

Leon shuts his eyes briefly, shoulders rising and falling as he takes one long, deep breath through his nose.

"I didn't mean it how it sounded."

"Yeah, I heard." Matthew's stomach rolls in ways it shouldn't. "I don't know what other context you want me to take it in, though. It's not even a big deal, anyways. I mean, yeah, it kind of sucks finding out a guy you like thinks you're a piece of shit, but it's whatever, right?"

"I didn't call you--I don't think you're--"

Groaning, Leon thumps his head against the wall and dragging a hand down his face. He takes a minute to compose himself, staring up at the ceiling, then down between his feet, face screwed up in thought. Finally, he looks back to Matthew.

"You like me, eh?"

It's been a long weekend; Matthew's too tired to backpedal and try to make up some excuse. Part of him just wants to drop it out in the open and be done with it. Just come out and say, Yeah, the 'I want to take you home' kind of like. The 'I want you to make me scream' kind of like.

Just to see what Leon would do. At the very least, he probably wouldn't punch Matthew. He's not a glove-dropper, after all, and he's not so scary without a stick in his hand.

He tries to imagine Leon's wide eyed, slack-jawed expression. Maybe the little 'Oh' that would slip through his lips. Because yeah, 'Oh' would be about right. It would be the most embarrassing conversation of Matthew's life; more embarrassing than when he came out to his family and Brady asked him to rank his favourite players by 'fuckability'.

"It doesn't matter." Matthew shakes his head, clears his throat, looking anywhere but at Leon. "Look, man, let's just go back to beating each other up on the ice and pretend this never happened, okay?"

"No, hey, don't"--Leon grabs Matthew's arm as he pushes off the wall, fully ready to disappear and never talk about this again--"It does matter. Tell me."

Matthew would rather go dunk his head under the sink and rub the embarrassing flush from his cheeks. He's hot all over, from the beating in his chest to the blood in his veins. Where Leon's touching tingles with an intimacy they've never had. It may be the first time they've touched without the aggression of a game to justify it.

And damn, Leon's looking at him like he can read Matthew's mind, or trying to get Matthew to read a little of his own. It's all heat and intensity and a look that says, I don't think you hate me, and I don't want you to think I hate you.

"What do you want from me?" Matthew says. "Why's this so important to you?"

It's possible he imagines the way Leon's eyes flit down and back. They're pressed almost right against each other now. That must be why Matthew's overheating, struggling to catch a full breath.

"i just want to know..." Leon swallows the rest of his words as he takes half a step closer; a little too close to be innocent. That brick wall of a chest is pressed up against Matthew's arm, nearly crowding him against the wall.

"Know what?" Matthew barely gets the words out.

It's scary to wonder. Ideas are forming in his head--excited, hopeful ones. Matthew won't pretend he's never wondered about Leon; what he could do with him. To him. How his mouth tastes, how his hands feel, what it'd be like having him over and under and around and inside.

And Leon is looking at Matthew like he genuinely cares how he feels. Like maybe, just maybe, he's thinking, too. Wanting.

Wouldn't that just be the biggest fucking drama of Matthew's life?

There's still too much they're not saying.

Neither of them gets the chance.

Something clatters down the hall, followed by the echo of voices.

Leon lets go abruptly, hand dropping to his side. "Shit, sorry. I should, um... Never mind. Just... forget it."

He spins and walks away, just like that, shoulders hunched and hands shoved in his pockets. For a guy who never backs down from a challenge, it looks a little too much like running away.

But it's not like Matthew can call him a coward when he can't even get his own voice to work. Breathless, he slumps against the wall and tries to piece together what just happened, how they managed to say everything and nothing. It feels like he's been through a tornado.

Fuck, he can't deal with whatever this is right now. He cannot be thinking with his dick come game time, let alone worry about whatever the hell his heart is doing.

He stands alone in the hall for a good five minutes, waiting for his nerves to settle, until he finally has the courage to head back, falling into the bustle of players and staff and media.

He avoids Leon in the locker room as best he can. On the ice, too. They don't talk and they keep enough bodies between them on the bench.

Once this is over, they can crack open that can of worms again, figure out what's going on. But there's more important things right now.

They play the All-Star game like they're bitter rivals.

Matthew feeds him a slick pass that turns into a goal.

He skates off without a celly, and Leon gives him a "fuck you" with a smirk and a tongue between his teeth.

But it's fun. Really fun. And despite it all, they're both smiling at the end. Leon's smiling at him.

And Matthew wants to believe that means something.

#hockey #mattdrai #matthew tkachuk #leon draisaitl #my writing #asks #this fic gave me a hard time for some reason #I didn't want to to do the obvious 'the thing you didn't say was that you love me' but I guess it kind of became that anyways lol #really my first thought was just 'matthew never said what he thought about leon's get off the ice comment and it haunts me' I NEED to know

[highqueenofelfhame]

a/n: ciwyw is next, i promise lmao. i'm very excited for the feedback on this one. <3

rowaelin // 5.7k words // skoh masterlist // masterlist

Considering how they had always slept twined together, Aelin wasn’t particularly surprised when she woke up with her back against Rowan’s chest. She tried not to move while her eyes adjusted to the sunlight coming through the curtains. Curtains were at the top of her list of things to buy when she went shopping later.

His arm was a warm, steadying weight over her side and she could feel his breath tickling the back of her neck. In sleep, her fingers had tangled with his over her stomach. Now, she had no idea what to do with any extension of her body. It had been a long time since she had been so hyper-aware of anyone touching her. Even longer than that, she hadn’t woken up with another person like this since the last time Rowan left all those years ago. 

And then there was the hardness pressing against her ass that had a giggle threatening to bubble out of her lips. 

Aelin bit her bottom lip to suppress the smile that would surely spiral into a fit of laughter as her hips began wiggling against him like she was trying to get comfortable. Rowan’s breathing changed slightly, a sharper inhale indicating he was at least a little awake now. She paused her movements just long enough to make the whole thing seem innocent before starting up again. The solid length of him grew harder against her. With the nightgown she slept in bunched up around her waist, their underwear was the only thing between them. 

It was the bare skin of her hip that his hand clamped down on to still her, his breath hot against her ear as he growled, “What do you think you’re doing?” 

“Trying to get out from under your arm.” It was an effort to keep her voice level with any amount of sass lacing the letters together. Rowan’s morning voice was truly a work of art, slightly deeper than normal and raspy from sleep. If he listened closely, he could probably hear her heart pounding away in her chest. 

“That isn’t what it felt like,” he murmured, pushing his hips flush against her ass. One shaky inhale later, she was rolling out of bed. Rowan’s hand fisted the sheets where she had just been, eyes sleepy and squinting against the morning sun. 

“We can go back to shouting then.” With a coy flip of her hair over her shoulder, she slipped into the bathroom as he flopped onto his back, hand running down his face. 

The shower was so cold she was shivering by the end, her skin pink from the failed attempt to scrub away the feeling of his body pressed too tightly against hers.

~*~ 

“This is the most depressing thing I have ever had to do,” Aelin mumbled, fingers working black hair color into Fenrys’s roots. The shitty box dye was going to wreck the stunning threads of gold and she hated that she had any part in it. When she went down for breakfast her heart had nearly fallen out of her ass at the sight of Fenrys and Connall with close-cropped cuts. Thankfully there was some length remaining on top where their curls were able to thrive, but it wasn’t enough. It could barely be tucked behind their ears. It felt like a crime. 

Aelin had already dyed, washed, and styled her hair into soft waves. She even took to snipping at the ends until her burgundy strands grazed the tops of her breasts. It had taken up the first two hours of the morning— the last thirty of it spent frowning at her reflection. Ever since she was little, her golden waves had been a source of pride. When she put in the green contacts, all of her remarkable features would vanish down the drain. 

“It’ll wash out,” Fen reminded her. “And it’s just hair.” 

“It’s going to take forever to grow back and probably just as long for the dye to wash out. This shit is hard to come back from.” It would be easier for her, but not for him. Evidently, Fenrys didn’t know that. A frown took over his entire face as he looked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. While being identical, there were subtle differences between the twin’s faces that those close to them could point out. He was still beautiful, but his naturally golden blonde hair had made him look like the sun to Connall’s moon. Now they were both night-kissed with darkness. 

There was no chance in hell that they could swap places without anyone catching it. As soon as Fenrys opened his mouth anyone would be able to tell that they most definitely were not the same person. Where his brother was calm and subdued, Fen was a raging storm of chaos and Aelin loved that about him. 

“Now we let it cook,” she sighed, plopping a processing cap over the top to keep the hair from slipping over his forehead and staining his skin. 

With a pat on his shoulder, she headed for the kitchen with Fenrys trailing behind her. Aelin grabbed a bag of grapes from the fridge and slid onto one of the barstools while she skimmed the file of her temporary identity. Having read through it several times already, the facts about her fake life were cemented into her mind. 

Her name was Lillian Gordaina, and she was the Duchess of a small territory south of Bellhaven in Fenharrow. They received their titles and territory a year ago as a wedding gift when she married her husband, Asher Gordaina, the Duke. Both of them came from royal bloodlines, and their pairing and the work they did together is what had their Lord and Lady titles. While they didn’t have any children, they loved their dogs and were very involved with animal rights charities and the arts. According to the king and queen, they represented what the future could and should be like. Their attendance at the ball alongside Fenharrow nobles was to properly introduce them to royals from other countries. 

Terrasen had a quite strong allegiance with Fenharrow, partially because her uncle was good friends with their king and queen. It was likely that he spoke with them to loop them in without giving away too much detail of the mission. Aelin wasn’t sure a real Duke and Duchess even existed for that little cluster of villages, or if they were taking an imaginary workload from the ones that oversaw Bellhaven. Not that it mattered, but she still wondered.

“Aelin?” Rowan’s voice carried down the hall from their bedroom and caused her heart to lurch beneath her ribs. Aelin’s eyes slipped shut as she dropped her forehead against Fen’s shoulder harder than she meant to. A dull throb pulsed between her eyebrows and he patted her sympathetically on the shoulder. 

“Say I’ve died,” she whispered with pleading eyes as she lifted her head. 

“Considering how little I want to experience his raw panic at that phrase, I’m going to offer a piping hot fuck no to that little request of yours.” And to think she thought she’d won everyone but Lorcan in the divorce. 

Aelin tsked as she rose to her feet, back arching in a feline stretch. She savored another grape, eyes unfocused and staring out the window and wondering how long it would take for him to come looking for her. Fenrys swiveled in his seat and guided her with a hand on her waist until she was forced to take the first damning steps toward her ex-boyfriend. Fenrys was a traitorous bastard.

Shoulders rolling to loosen her arms, she steeled herself for a fight. Rowan hadn’t sounded angry when he called for her, but it was odd that he was seeking her out for anything to begin with. The uncertainty had her on high alert as her toes crossed the threshold into their room. Rowan was found sitting on a stool in the bathroom, running his hand over the back of his neck. 

No evidence of his silver hair remained on his head, nor in the bits of hair on the floor around him. It was now a dirty blonde that toed the line of being light brown. They both looked equally surprised at the other’s makeovers and neither said anything for a moment. Their eyes remained locked through the mirror as she leaned against the bathroom door.

“Hey,” he said finally, reaching up to scratch his jaw. 

“Hi?” It came out as perplexed as she felt. Even her nose was wrinkled a bit as he turned to look at her directly. 

“I was uh– I was wondering if you’d help me cut the longer bit.” Rowan motioned to the pair of scissors that lay beside the clippers he’d used for the parts he wanted shorter. “I don’t trust any of the guys with scissors near my head, and you always did a good job.” 

There were times when Rowan shaved his head in the early days of their relationship for ease of things while deployed. Once he started letting it grow back in, Aelin had watched a thousand tutorials on how to cut men’s hair. Eventually, she was pretty good at it. Not enough to quit her job and start a new business, but well enough that Rowan asked her for haircuts and trims when he was home. 

“Of course.” She pushed off the door and reached for the scissors, Rowan’s hand darting out to stop her from picking them up. Her raised eyebrows asked the question her lips didn’t have to say.

“Without fucking it up.” The corners of her mouth twitched into a smile, her fingers closing around the cool metal. She grabbed the comb with her other hand and began running it through his hair. Because she had the excuse, her fingers slipped through the silky strands as she debated on how to cut it. Rowan took the moment to shake his arms out, loosening the muscles that seemed to stay too tight when she was around. 

“Relax,” she mused, slipping into the space between his thighs. Using her fingertips, she tilted his head from one side to the other.  “I’m cutting your hair, not getting ready to kick your ass in a sparring match.”

Rowan snorted but seemed to ease up if only a little. His hands were resting flat against his thigh, one leg bouncing to dispel anxious energy. When he bumped into her she shot him a warning glare, snipping the scissors in his face as a reminder of what might happen if he didn’t take a breath and chill out. 

Aelin began cutting, taking her time to ensure it was even. Rowan alternated from sitting with his eyes closed to gazing up at her face. The only other place for him to look was at her chest, and he seemed to be doing an okay job of avoiding that. She was pretty sure she caught him a few times, though. 

“Your hair was so pretty,” she sighed, moving to stand beside him while she cut the sides and around to the back. “Now it’s ruined.”

“You don’t like me like this, Princess?” Aelin’s tongue ran over her teeth as she glanced at him briefly in the mirror. 

“I always liked you however you happened to be.” It felt like too vulnerable a thing to say, especially when he turned his head to look at her. Ignoring his eyes, Aelin turned his head forward. “Be still. I’m almost done.”

A few minutes later she was back between his legs and working a pomade through his freshly dyed locks. Considering how long it had been since she’d readied him for any sort of occasion, it took her longer than it used to. She was probably being a little nit-picky, but they had a photoshoot in two hours where they had to look royal for crying out loud. If there was a time to be precise, it was now. 

“There. Perfect.” Aelin smiled a little and turned,  reaching for the faucet to wash her hands. Halfway his fingers caught hers and tugged. Ever so slowly, she turned back to look at him. The calluses of his free palm scratched against her skin as they slowly wrapped around the back of her thigh just above her knee. 

A suppressed shiver broke free as it dragged up her side and finally reached hesitantly toward her face. The other spread her fingertips until he could weave their fingers together. If he noticed the residue of the pomade on her hands, he didn’t seem to care. She knew she should stop this– that she should pull away from him and haul ass to the kitchen to wash her hands to put distance between them. Instead, she leaned into the first brush of his hand against her cheek. 

Their eyes were locked, his pupils blown wide with what could only be desire. The heat of his body so close had her taking another small step toward him without needing to be guided. Her legs were trapped between his and in this secret moment, she didn’t want to be anywhere else. 

The pad of his thumb brushed over her jaw while his hand slid around, fingers nestling perfectly into the dip at the base of her skull. All of the air in the room must have been sucked out because she was finding it increasingly hard to breathe. Each breath was measured and it seemed like he was doing the same thing as he gently guided her face closer to his. 

Rowan untangled his hand from hers and guided her hand to the side of his neck where her fingers immediately twined into the hair at his nape. Almost involuntarily, she traced over the cupid’s bow of his lips with her free hand. In a moment of aching defeat, she rested her forehead against his and allowed her eyes to close. For a long moment, they just breathed each other in. It was a breathtaking intimacy that only two people that loved each other deeply could share. 

The grief that steeped in her mind like a long-forgotten cup of tea washed over her. It became abundantly clear that she had never worked through it. Their relationship had always been more about their romantic feelings. He was her very best friend as much as her lover, sometimes more so. This moment didn’t poke and prod at the wounds that still felt so fresh most days. It soothed them. 

Never stilling the movements of his hand that ran up and down her side, he pulled back just enough to look at her. The tips of their noses brushed as he whispered her name like it was the most reverent prayer he could offer to any god. Aelin shivered, lips parting on a shallow breath. Rowan’s mouth grazed the corner of her’s and he looked at her one more time like he was asking permission. There was a desperation in his eyes that she hadn’t seen in ages. 

It was a man begging the god he worshiped. For what, she didn’t know. If it was forgiveness he sought it would be a long time coming. Or was it just the taste of her lips that he needed? Was he begging to brand her skin with the touch of his hands, his lips, his tongue? The crumbling self-control she grasped for was slipping like sand through her fingers. At the soft whisper of her name, it blew away with the wind. 

Whatever expression lay on her face must have been good enough because the next moment his lips were on hers and she was unraveling at the taste of him. Nothing mattered but the feeling of his hands on her body, of his lips taking little breaks to press sweet kisses to her cheeks before claiming her mouth again. At the first brush of his tongue her knees nearly gave out, the grip she had on his hair tightening until he groaned low in his throat. It wasn’t the sound of pain, but one of pleasure.

The fingerprints she left on his neck and jaw were sticky from the pomade, but neither of them cared enough to stop. The strokes of his tongue were exploratory like he wanted to relearn every part of her. His lips were starving to memorize every inch, every dip, curve, and angle of her body until it was scorched into his memory. Aelin needed it, she realized. She needed to taste him, feel him beneath her fingertips. Every atom in her body was aching to be touched and felt and explored by only him. Only ever Rowan.

The nip of his teeth against her bottom lip didn’t hold the bite of their words. This kiss felt like that first deep breath on a snowy morning. It awoke all of her senses and sent shivers down her spine and heat blazing across her skin. The warmth of his body grounded her as his hand pressed against the small of her back and pressed her chest flush against his. Rowan’s lips seared trails of fire down her jaw and neck, then back up to capture her mouth again and she wanted to burn right here in this spot forever. Desire and need flooded her body and pooled in her core. The moan that slipped through her lips was caught with his teeth and tongue. Shaking hands contracted against her sides, fingertips digging into her skin roughly as he pulled her toward him and—

And then he pushed her back, ripping his mouth from hers. The heat of his body vanished as he leaned back to put space more between them. A thousand emotions flashed through his eyes before he managed to pull any kind of mask together by clearing his throat. 

“There.” Spare bravado was pulled from his pockets as he smirked, dropping his hands from her waist. She hated how much she missed the contact.  “Now we’re even from this morning.”

It would be a bald-faced lie to say the words didn’t burn worse than flames licking at her skin. But she also knew Rowan Whitethorn better than she knew anyone. As good as he was at hiding his emotions from everyone around him, there was no point in even trying when it came to Aelin. She looked into his eyes and could see that it was about more than just this morning. There was no possible way that those kisses had meant nothing more than settling an imaginary score. Not when his chest was heaving and his cheeks were stained a rosy red. Words said one thing, but the intent way his eyes remained focused on her said something else entirely. He was a predator hunting his prey and she would let him devour her. 

Unless that was all it had been: a game. The thought cut deep and she had no one to blame but herself. A stupid game she accidentally started this morning because being a pain in his ass was easier than being civil. 

Her lips pressed together in a thin line and she had to ball her hands into fists to hide their tremors. Fresh heat crept over her cheeks and down her neck as she nodded once and stepped out of his reach lest he try and touch her again. It wasn’t a luxury she could afford to indulge in. That one would wreck her and everything she was entirely. 

“Next time I’m fucking up your hair,” she quipped, pockets empty of her usual swagger. Aelin didn’t look at him again as she walked out and grabbed what she needed to finish getting ready for the afternoon. 

The bathroom she chose to get ready in wasn’t nearly far enough from Rowan. Close was too close but far was too far. Every cell in her body needed to be touched by him, to feel his muscles flex and relax beneath her fingertips. It was a slow descent into madness that she wasn’t sure would ever be able to crawl out of if she kept going down that forgotten, overgrown path. 

Even though he was currently winning the game with no rules between them, one thing was for certain: Aelin would be the one to secure victory over the whole damn thing. 

~*~

“The gods are playing a cosmic joke on me,” Aelin said to Fenrys, staring at the gown she was expected to wear for the photoshoot in half an hour. Even her friend was gobsmacked over the miles and miles of tulle and lace that seemed to take up half the room. 

Simply put, it was the dress for a royal that couldn’t show too much but gave just enough. The monstrosity of a dress would turn her into a walking cupcake and she was already imagining how itchy the lace sleeves would be that ran down to her wrists. It was a far cry from what she would have worn for her wedding, but she supposed that didn’t matter. Not anymore, not ever. 

“At least it couldn’t be further from what you would actually wear,” Fen offered, carefully pulling it off the hanger. The comfort was lost as she sighed heavily and undressed to her undergarments. allowed him to zip her into the dress. Fen zipped her into it, careful to avoid getting the excess fabric caught in the teeth. The skirts were so long that she would have to carry them to avoid getting tripped up on the short walk to the living area. 

“If Rowan says a single smarmy thing, I will throttle him while wearing this dress.” 

“I’ll take videos and send them to everyone I know. It’ll travel quickly through the entire military and he’ll never live it down.” Aelin chuckled darkly, heaving the skirts up as the funeral procession to her twisted fate began. 

Over the last hour, the sitting room was carefully staged for the photos. They were only doing a handful of poses and she was thankful for it. With that kiss still haunting every corner and crevice of her mind, she was uncertain how long she could be near him without combusting. 

Rowan may have made it about a game, yet she wasn’t entirely sure it was. Games were far more reckless, but maybe he was aiming to destroy her like she thought she was trying to do to him. At the thought of those slow, exploratory kisses she stumbled. The combination of her sock and the tulle made the floor much more slippery than it should have been. Fenrys caught her elbow to keep her from falling outright and she murmured a quiet thank you. 

If it wasn’t for the swishing of the gown, she would have been able to sneak up on the rest of the Cadre. Rowan and Lorcan were discussing something with their backs to her, while Vaughan and Connall shared a bowl of popcorn. When Rowan turned around she pointed a finger at him and then every other man in the room. 

“I don’t want to hear a single word.” Her voice was hard, eyes slightly narrowed. Rowan’s mouth opened but she swung her finger back around to him. “Not. One. Word.” 

In a shocking display of self-control, his jaws clamped shut. For once, his expression was unreadable as he scanned her from head to toe. The feeling of not being able to read his thoughts on his face was foreign. Aelin did not like it. 

Rowan didn’t look like a dessert the way she did. Well, he did, but she shoved those thoughts far out of her mind as she looked at him. Aelin had always loved him in a tux and this was no exception. It was a simple black with a bow tie hugging his neck. A few medals and pins signified he was of some military ranking for Fenharrow like most of the royal men were. Aelin didn’t bother looking too closely, it would just wind her even tighter than she already was. 

“Are we ready?” The photographer asked. It was a young man she had met a few times over the years named Luca. While she had the strongest desire to say that no, she wasn’t and would likely never be, she nodded. As she came to a stop at Rowan’s side, a woman she hadn’t noticed and was unfamiliar with adjusted her skirts around them. “Where is Aelin’s ring?” 

“I have it,” Rowan said, lifting her hand and sliding it into place. His lips were pressed so tightly together that they had disappeared entirely. This was going to be harder than she thought, much like the rest of her current job requirements. 

“Relax. It’s a fake ring, not your death sentence,” she hissed, yanking her hand away and adjusting the fake diamond ring on her finger. Like the dress, she supposed it was pretty but wasn’t her style at all. It was a large stone surrounded by a dozen or so smaller ones. Where she preferred true yellow gold, it was silver. Not that her thoughts on the fake wedding ring she wore mattered. 

The pair of soldiers were painfully stiff during the shoot. Halfway through Fenrys marched over and grabbed Aelin by the hands, shaking her arms around until she was loose and laughing. Though Rowan didn’t dissolve into a fit of laughter as she did, Fen did the same thing to him. It took some time but they were eventually able to lean into each other without looking like they were trying to escape their own skin. 

“Can you look at each other and like, I don’t know, pretend you’re looking at someone you love?” Luca asked halfway through. The poor kid was completely unaware of their volatile history. Their peanut gallery groaned, anticipating violence to be brewing in their eyes. 

“That would take an entire bottle of whiskey each,” Connall murmured, popcorn crunching between syllables. It took Aelin longer than she would have liked to get the courage to look up into Rowan’s face.

Neither of them were up to par because Luca sighed so hard with epic frustration. Aelin looked at the ground and closed her eyes for a moment to collect herself. Large hands flexed at her sides like he was doing the same. Years of unresolved feelings and pain settled heavily between them. 

Look at each other and pretend you’re looking at someone you love. 

The worst part was that for her, it wasn’t a stretch. She hated it, grinding that irritation to dust between her teeth until they squeaked. It was like nails on a chalkboard and she shivered violently in Rowan’s arms. 

“Much better, Rowan. Aelin, this isn’t a battle. Can you like? I don’t know? Relax?” Each staccato phrase flipped up at the ends like a question. With a dry look at Luca, she took a moment to open her mouth as wide as she could to stretch out her jaw. She practiced smiling at Fenrys who gave her an encouraging thumbs up. It took a few extra wiggles to loosen her limbs, but she looked back up at Rowan. 

Just like this morning, his features had softened around the edges. He brought one hand up to rest along her jaw and gazed down at her with a familiarity that made her stomach flip. With her heart taking off in her chest, she found it harder to breathe when he was looking at her like that. Aelin lightly held onto his wrist, the other on his waist, and let out a long breath. 

“If it’ll help,” Rowan murmured, his thumb idly stroking along her jaw, “We can go outside and you can kick my ass after this.”

As much as she didn’t want to, she laughed. At the sound that came barrelling out of her, Rowan grinned widely. Click click click. Luca fired away, a few of the shots while they were in light motion. Aelin shaking her head at Rowan, him leaning his face a little closer to hers. 

“We can do the garden shots and be done. I’m sure they can work with what we have.” Their young photographer announced. Relief flooded her body in cooling waves. The gown was unzipped before she made it to their room, heaps of fabric falling into a pile on the floor just inside the room. 

It helped that she didn’t feel like herself at all. The hair, the contacts, and the clothing style were so at odds with her own. None of it was her. It was a character she was playing. Not being able to recognize herself had her wondering if it made things easier for Rowan, too. 

~*~

Seeing Aelin in a wedding gown, however ridiculous it may have been, was nearly enough to send him to his knees. 

Trying to reign in his emotions and school his features into a bored mask had been difficult. While he knew it was nothing like her, Aelin in a white gown implying that she was wholly his for the rest of his life was soul-crushing. It took everything in him to pretend he was as irritated about the whole thing as she was. Sure, he hated the whole thing. It was a constant struggle to keep his emotions in check through all of it. He just didn’t hate it because he hated her the way she did him. 

Rowan’s violent dislike of the situation was because it was a window into their past. It was a glimpse at how things were meant to be years ago when he had dropped the ball time and time again. The distaste that overcame his features while putting the ring on her finger had nothing to do with the act itself, and everything to do with it being the wrong ring. The cheap silver with a CZ stone was not the one that he should have been sliding into place. The dress that made her look like a pastry was not the one she was supposed to be wearing. 

It was all just fucking wrong, and every single piece of him was vividly aware of it.

Voicing that wasn’t an option. What good would it do anyway? She was better off without him, always had been, and he wasn’t going to start dragging her down that road now. Rowan could deal with her anger. They could fight it out and have once-in-a-blue-moon moments together when they were alone and it would sustain him. It had to be enough because it was all he could give her. 

The only future for them would be a working relationship full of barbed comments and wicked words slung like gunfire. Aelin would keep being mad at him and he would let her because it was easier than the alternative. Even asking, begging for forgiveness as he should, was too much to put her through. She bore enough wounds on her heart and soul to him. There was no reason to add any more. 

And he damn sure wouldn’t be kissing her like that again. Not when the feeling of her soft lips and the taste of her tongue had undone him so thoroughly his hands still shook. All of the walls he had erected over the last several years where she was concerned were crumbling at an alarming rate. Calling it a game had been a shitty attempt at self-preservation in the moment, one he hoped she didn’t see through like glass. 

“You good?” She asked him as they walked through the garden. Aelin had changed into a long-sleeved, brown turtleneck. Her pants were a few shades darker and wide-legged with cream-colored shoes peeking out as they walked. Rowan was wearing a simple navy blue suit with the collar of his shirt undone. 

“Yep,” he replied, adjusting his hand until their fingers laced together. These photos were just meant to look candid like they had been caught on a stroll. In a few, Aelin had the smart idea to smile and wave toward the camera like she had spotted paparazzi. Though he knew she would be good at this, it was still a little surprising that she had thought of something to make it that much more tangibly believable.

“We’re almost done. Then you can go back to hating my guts.” She looked up at him and smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Rowan hated those contacts. It was like a wall between them and he felt like he couldn’t see her anymore. 

“I don’t hate you, Aelin.” Rowan sighed at the truth and immediately wanted to shove it back down his throat. Waterboarding was less painful than giving her pieces of him that were real these days. “I do, however, hate the contacts.”

“Do you know how weird it is that your eyes are brown right now?” 

“Probably as weird it is for me that yours are green,” he murmured just as Luca announced the ending of their session. 

Aelin groaned a thank you to the gods and dropped his hand so abruptly it was like he’d been burning her the entire time. The heels came off and were carried back to the house, both of them quiet. The heartbeats of silence were heavy and he couldn’t decide if it was better or worse than the chaos of their arguments. At least with the arguments, he knew what she was thinking. 

“I might take you up on training later,” she finally said as they walked through the back door. 

“Oh?”

“I’m going to do some shopping for civilian attire, but maybe when I get back?” Aelin paused and turned to look at him, her eyebrows slightly raised. It felt stupid, but Rowan thought he might be able to read her better if she just took out those stupid lenses.

“You don’t want to train with Fenrys instead?” 

Aelin’s eyes rolled and then crossed as she stuck her tongue out at him and replied, “Are you still making me promises you don’t intend to keep?”

It was a cheap shot meant to get under his skin, and Mala fucking flay him, it did. For the first time all day, something almost playful flashed in her eyes while waiting for an answer. This woman was going to be the death of him.

“I’m not— No. Find me when you get back.” 

“I won’t be pulling my punches,” she said as she turned to walk away. A warning or a promise, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t know which option he preferred, either. 

“I wouldn’t expect you to.” His words were said to nothing and no one because, by the time he finally found something to say, she was already gone. 

@elentiyawhitethorn @autumnbabylon @fancysludgeshoelamp  @wordsafterhours @live-the-fangirl-life @the-hospitality-of-knives @tangledraysofsunshine @readandlisten @westofmoon @rowanaelinn  @morganofthewildfire @writtenonreceipts @feynightlight @emster1622-blog @scarblx @thefaetrove @loveyatopluto @actuallybarb @peppermint-fae @the-devils-own @scottmcgivemeacall @livingmylifeforme  @wordsafterhours @foreverfallingforthestars @llyncooljones @emily-gsh @loosesimplicity @emilyrose111294  @charlizeed @aelinchocolatelover @cretaceous-therapod @sayosdreams @fireheart-violet @the-regal-warrior @backtobl4ck @shyvioletcat @bellasbookboyfriends @icantfindmychashma @swankii-art-teacher 

#rowaelin #skoh #some kind of haunted #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #aelin ashryver galathynius #lorcan salvaterre #vaughan #fenrys moonbeam #connall moonbeam #throne of glass #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fic #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass fanfic #throne of glass fic #tog fanfiction #tog fanfic #tog fic #my writing #fanfiction #writer #writing #author #military au #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort

[darrengrave]

Absolutely fascinating social phenomenon that every year on sept 11 following 2001 for YEARS we replayed extremely graphic footage of the event all day in schools with little to no actually teachable context for the students who were too young to remember it, unintentionally creating these odd aftershocks of trauma for people who weren't alive for it.......compared to today where the hot topic in school is banning books deemed """"inappropriate"""" for kids

Another fascinating phenomenon I've noticed just this year is that lot of people too young to remember for some reason seem absolutely SHOCKED that yes we actually did see everything happen live in front of our eyes as it happened and remember it clear as day, which fascinates me because I know a lot of them are old enough to have experienced the first phenomenon and if anything I would have thought we're MORE plugged into catastrophe as it happens with social media and cameras in every pocket on every street around the world. The only thing I can think of is we lost that unity in broadcast journalism and now they can't wrap their heads around it??

#september 11 #9/11 #i do think we have to communicate the gravity and impact of it somehow #and that reactionary policy isn't logical and can't be logicked away #but if the jumpers were deemed appropriate for kids to see there isn't a book on this earth they can't handle #i was only 6 but i did see it live and remember it very clearly and gathered enough context just by listening to the adults talk around me #so i cant even imagine what it was like for this ghost to haunt u through so many people around u so strongly #without some kind of first hand experience yourself #what a weird liminal space that must have been emotionally #its come up a lot this year for some reason like ive been thinking about it all for months

[daily-haunted-tv]

#Some info about em! #Pokemon #pkmnart #rotom #daily haunted tv #Spook Rotom #Mimi Rotom #if you were wondering what kind of Rotoms they are now you know! #fun fact! those arent 'teeth' in Mimi's 'Mouth' but her eyes! Like a real Mimikyu uwu

[starcrossrf]

Something soft for the soul ft.Chkn

…and whatever this is.

#*in a salesman voice* IS THE ANGST BOTHERING YOU? #THE ETERNAL SUFFERING AND COLLECTIVE MADNESS OF THIS COMMUNITY GROWS STALE AND BORING?! #FRET NOT! #Starcross is here to deliver some sweetness in these dark times. #Mind is the kind of guy who would shave you for fun in your sleep #I hope bald Heart haunts you <3 #chonny jash #cj heart #cj mind #startistic #cj soul #please let this be good and pray I won’t hate this eventually

[blackhholes]

Teen Wolf as Horror Subgenres

Season six A: Ghost Story

#teen wolf #twedit #teen wolf edit #twgifs #lydia martin #stiles stilinski #malia tate #claudia stilinski #tara raeken #noah stilinski #my gifs #mine #twgenres #this is one where i understand if you don't get it but i'm very passionate about 6a being a ghost story #but instead of the presence of a ghost being the haunting it's the absence #stiles becomes the ghost in that his friends are aware something is missing from their lives but they can't figure out what's causing it #also the season sees multiple character being straight up haunted if you wanna take the easy way out #claudia definitely counts as some kind of phantom or ghost and theo is being haunted by tara and his time in the skin walker prison #there's also the scene in ghosted where malia literally gets pulled underground by her dead sister and mother #and also just the fact that one of the episodes is named ghosted should work in my favour