shyvioletcat

[shyvioletcat]

Love is stored in the Hand that pets the cat

[shyvioletcat]

AELIN GALATHYNIUS????

[shyvioletcat]

love is stored in the fictional couple i’ve gotten overly invested in

[shyvioletcat]

This was the best kind of spicy. I also like to think Rowan put it there. As a treat.

sleepless in terrasen

@throneofglassmicrofics instead of final papers i wrote...this 🫣

prompts: Sleepless & Rapture & Elixir

word count: 1,059 (whoops)

warnings: NSFW CONTENT OOPSIES

enjoy!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She hadn't been able to sleep.

After two hours of tossing and turning, silken sheets rustling in agitation beneath her flushed skin, Aelin groaned in frustration and rolled out of her bed. Damn the man sleeping one door away from her. Damn his stupid sexy smirk and his stupid hot lips and his stupid big hands. Damn Rowan Whitethorn for kissing every coherent thought out of her head and locking the door behind him as he went to his own damned room.

Damn that gentlemanly tendency of his.

With a half-grunt, half-moan of frustration, Aelin reached for the small vial of medicine that she always kept with her whenever she traveled. Whether it was a long business trip with her parents and the rest of their government staff or a trip like this, a simple two-day drive from university back to her home, she always kept some sleep medication on hand. After nearly a decade of chronic insomnia, she knew how handy even a single does of that elixir was.

Fumbling in the dark, her hand soon closed around the familiar bottle. She quickly unscrewed the top, lifted the tiny glass bottle to her lips, and drank down the slightly-sweet medicine. After she placed the empty vial back on the nightstand, she tucked herself back into the very comfortable hotel bed, rolled onto her side, and waited for the familiar drowsiness to wash over her body.

Instead of sleepiness, though, a powerful wave of heat spread through her.

Shocked, Aelin flipped on the bedside lamp and grabbed the tiny glass bottle, squinting at the tiny print. Slowly, the words became clear.

Oh, fuck.

"Intensify Her Pleasure!" screamed the crimson lettering on the small black label. That wasn't her sleeping meds--it was a goddamn aphrodisiac.

And the need pulsing through her veins reared its head in full force, her nipples peaking to stiff little points at the thought of needing stimulation. Craving stimulation. From a certain pair of rough, calloused hands that had just recently gripped her hips as the man who owned them pressed her back into the wall and kissed a fire into her blood.

Gods. Aelin flipped the light off, dropped the bottle, and curled herself into a tight little ball under the sheets, willing the lust to calm itself down. Willing the image of Rowan's shirtless chest out of her--holy gods. Against her will, that image suddenly lost its pants.

And the fire in her veins burned brighter, demanding attention.

She stretched out, sliding the worn cotton shirt off her body. His shirt, its pine scent warm, comforting, familiar. Even the gentle rasp of the fabric against her peaked nipples sent a shudder through her body, and she lowered her hands to her breasts, gently circling the hardened buds. Harder. Rougher. Like she imagined Rowan would do if he wasn't so insistent on being a gentleman.

She didn't need him to be gentle with her.

As she slipped one hand between her thighs, Aelin couldn't muffle her soft moan. Fuck, she was so wet, turned on by the heated kiss, her need intensified by the damn aphrodisiac. Her fingers found her needy, throbbing clit, and she groaned, then grabbed a pillow and pressed it over her mouth, muffling her sounds. She should have been embarrassed that Rowan's name left her mouth in a broken moan as she slid two fingers into her pussy, but she wasn't. She wanted that man. Needed him.

And her fingers weren't nearly as good as she dreamed his thick, rough ones would be. Fuck. Breathing heavily, she reached her free hand into the nightstand drawer and grabbed her vibrator, switching it on to the lowest setting and trailing the bright blue toy over her nipples. She moaned louder, the sound muffled by the pillow, and slid it down her stomach, replacing her fingers with the vibe and flicking up the speed of the toy.

One more speed, love. Rowan's imagined voice filled her ears. That's a good girl.

"Rowan," Aelin moaned, pushing the vibrator harder against her clit and flipping on the suction as she flicked it up to its highest speed. "Oh my god, Ro!" Eyes closed, legs spread, fingers twisting her nipples with just the right amount of roughness, her body shook as she fractured, her orgasm tearing through her like wildfire as she pictured Rowan's darkened eyes gleaming up at her from between her legs.

Too slowly, she turned the vibe down and pulled it away, chest heaving as she caught her breath from the powerful orgasm. From the dream that had fueled it.

She really didn't know how she was going to manage spending six hours in a car next to Rowan tomorrow, as if she hadn't just pictured him devouring her pussy while she used her favorite vibrator. On the other side of the wall, she heard a faint shifting of sheets, as if Rowan was just as sleepless as her.

Though that couldn't be possible, since she was the one who'd just gotten off thanks to taking the wrong medicine.

"Aelin..." She jerked upright, half believing she was dreaming. As silently as she could, she pressed her ear to the rather thin hotel wall, listening carefully. On the other side of the wall, Rowan's bed creaked, and he groaned. "Fuck, Aelin!"

Holy. Fuck.

In a split second, Aelin made a Very Bad Decision. She pushed herself out of bed, tugged Rowan's shirt over her bare body, and went to the door that separated their two rooms. Knowing Rowan had left it unlocked, she turned the handle and quietly opened the door and stepped into his room before the embers still sparking in her blood could cool her impulsiveness.

In his bed, Rowan yanked himself upright, his sweaty chest glistening in the slivers of moonlight that spilled in through the gauzy curtains. His eyes widened as he took in her flushed, wild-haired appearance, her parted lips. Her breathing hitched as she drank in his bare skin and the bulge barely hidden beneath the sheets.

"Aelin?" he whispered. Rough, jagged, hopeful.

"Rowan," she breathed. Rough, jagged. Needy.

He pushed the sheets aside and stood, and her knees weakened even as the fire in her blood roared right back to life.

"Come. Here." A demand. A promise.

She dropped her shirt to the floor and did just that.

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@mariaofdoranelle

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

@aelinschild

@renxzs

[shyvioletcat]

i suffer from 'men are hotter banged up' disease. unfortunately there is no cure.

[shyvioletcat]

AARON DESSNER I'LL GET YOU THAT GRAMMY FOR PRODUCER OF THE YEAR EVEN IF ITS THE LAST THING I DO IN THIS LIFE

[shyvioletcat]

writers and artists will go "this isn't good enough." my brother in christ, you're creating something new out of nothing and expressing yourself creatively. your productivity and unrealistic standards of perfection do not define you or the worth of your art. you're doing great.

[shyvioletcat]

Who's Afraid of Little Old Me is actually just Aelin talking to Arobynn

[shyvioletcat]

How much sad did you think I had in me? how much tragedy? just how low did you think I'd go? before I self-imploded?

#THESE LINES

[shyvioletcat]

crash the party like a record scratch as I scream

[shyvioletcat]

i really like looking at google image searches for “firemen rescuing cats” or something because you get super cute pictures like

AND THEN THERE’S THIS ONE

#my favourite post is back

[shyvioletcat]

FINISHED MY LIST OF PROMPTS, GUYS

If anyone uses these, please feel free to @ me, I’d love to see how people interpret them. I guess you could also just use a tag. #piddermermay I guess? Idk. I’ve never done anything like this before.

[shyvioletcat]

[shyvioletcat]

I need set up part 7 PPPLLLEEEAAASSSEEE

It’s started! It just needs finishing 😅 I haven’t quite settled back into my writing after the hecticness of the last few month. But I’m getting there. I also have a snippet for you.

Aelin barely slept that night. Every time she drifted off Rowan’s voice would sneak into her mind, his rough whisper of those three words: I love you. Even hours later despite her tiredness and seeking out every kind of distraction, she could still hear it.

What a mess, what a godsdamned mess they had got themselves into. Or maybe it was just her.

[shyvioletcat]

i love the…. almost horror aspects of this album. all the references to ghosts and death…. and sonically, the unexpected shrieking in WAOLOM and the banging and screaming during “old habits die screaming” and even the way the tension subtly builds across the sixteen tracks and by the end you’re so stressed and shaken it’s like! losing your sense of self and feeling like you’ve become a monster is horror. and i’m sooooo glad she leaned into it

[shyvioletcat]

I can read your mind "She's having the time of her life There in her glittering prime The lights refract sequin stars off her silhouette every night" I can show you lies

I CAN DO IT WITH A BROKEN HEART

[shyvioletcat]

~ MASTERLIST ~

While we wait for Taylor Swift to break our hearts, thought I might dabble a bit in that myself. We get a bit of insight into Rowan this chapter and I lent into canon a little bit. This is the *ADVICE* prompt thanks to @throneofglassmicrofics.

CW: Off page character death

~~~~~

Rowan liked his new house, it was practical, easy to maintain and the neighbourhood turned out to be nicer than he was expecting. The street was quiet, nothing more than the occasional backyard party disturbed him the nights after work or on the weekends. Unless he fully committed to choosing the true life of a hermit and hid away far off in the mountains, Rowan couldn't escape all human contact. And besides his purposefully casual interactions at work and the obligatory check-ins with his friends and family he was managing to avoid the unnecessary kinds. He’d been informed more than once that this outlook wasn’t healthy, but it was how he managed. Especially today.

Today marked three years to the day the life he had known shattered into pieces. Time had dulled the constant ache, but this date still haunted him. Rowan had moved here once the haze had cleared enough that he had the drive to seek out a new job and a new start. Or he might just have been running away, his personal reasoning usually depended on his mood. 

It had been like any other day, Rowan was making dinner waiting for his wife to get home when the phone had rung. In the middle of stirring the butter chicken that Lyria had specially requested out of the blue, he hadn’t bothered to note who the caller was. His blood ran cold at the first words: this is Doranelle General Hospital. After that he was given the instructions that he needed to get to the hospital as soon as he could. 

The drive went by in a blur, but he’d got there. When he gave his name received a look that was full of sympathy and he knew. Rowan knew right then and there but he forced himself into denial. It was hard to ignore when a doctor rounded the corner next and led Rowan to a private room to tell him the devastating truth.

There was a car accident.

Lyria had died.

She was pregnant.

Rowan had sat there, stunned, devoid of feeling, because of the one little fact that he didn’t know. Lyria was pregnant, she was pregnant and she hadn’t told him. Rowan had left the hospital a broken man and three years later he still hadn’t been able to piece himself back together. 

It was a rare thing for Rowan to take a day off work, but that was for the better. His mood was foul and people didn’t deserve to have that inflicted on them. Each year it got better—no, easier—and he didn’t know if it was a bad thing or a good thing. The shame and guilt of not being there when he should have would plague him forever. 

To keep the demons at bay he chose running. This was his fourth lap around the block, everytime he had approached his front yard he’d told himself one more, he wasn’t ready to go home just yet. So he pushed himself for another, then another, and despite the burning in his lungs and the lagging of his feet he might just go around again. Rowan might just have if his neighbour pulling into her driveway hadn't pulled him up. He slowed down to a jog when he saw the car approaching the driveway so she wouldn’t have to stop for him. 

It had been about a month since their first interaction and they hadn’t had another since. She remained the only niggling irritation Rowan had with living here. This woman had come at him so viciously and he was still feeling the need to defend himself. He had watched her almost drop her baby just to get the bins down to the curb. Anyone with any sense would have accepted the help instead of making a point. 

That irritation rose when she slowed down so much that Rowan basically had to stop on the path. He got it, he really did, but anything and everything got to him today. In the end he used this as an excuse to go home. Maybe he could force some food down and see if he could sleep off the rest of his mood. Rowan walked on the path in front of her lawn and as he took out his earbud he caught sight of her waving him down. Confused, he stopped just watching as his neighbour walked across the grass. 

“Hi,” she said tightly, obviously not pleased about the conversation she had been the one to start. 

Unable to do much else, Rowan matched her energy. “Hi.”

Those unusual eyes narrowed at him, and not wanting to be the focus of her ire he shifted his attention to the baby she was holding. It was a mistake. Looking at her was like a shot to the chest. She had brown eyes and hair, her tiny fist was curled from where it clung to her mother’s shirt. What sent him staggering was that this child’s colouring was so similar to Lyria’s. An ill-timed reminder of what could have been. His neighbour talking gave him something else to focus on. 

“I snapped at you, I’m sorry,” she said. 

The scoff he made was involuntary, as were the words that came out of his mouth next, no chance to temper them against his anger. “It must have been so hard to track me down. It’s been a month. You’ve had plenty of chances to apologise before now.”

The woman all but reared back, at this point Rowan didn’t care about the verbal lashing he was going to get. 

“Take my advice,” she all but hissed, shifting the baby in her arms—shifting her away. “Don’t be a dick when someone’s trying to apologise.” 

That was their conversation done, the still nameless woman stomped across her lawn and into the house, the front door not quite slamming but obviously closed with some force. Rowan was well aware all he had done was add fuel to the fire, and it shouldn’t have bothered him as much as he did. He didn’t have the energy or time for this, the best thing for him to do was ignore his volatile and irksome neighbour. Something that would be more than easy for him to do.

~~~~~

After copious amounts of editing I only went over by 42 words, which is a pretty good effort.

#good morning reblog