Gansey had been right about one thing; in this moment, here in this field, Kavinsky was king. His white sunglasses sat on top of his head like a crown with his Mitsubishi as his throne and a bottle of vodka as a scepter. Ronan allowed himself a moment to wonder what it would be like to kneel before him.

ROVINSKY! After a night of reckless drag racing and dreaming with Kavinsky and mob of delinquent Bulgarians, Ronan wakes up sick in Kavinsky's house. Kavinsky insists that Ronan stay with him until he feels better, and for some reason, Ronan just can't refuse. Rated T (could be M also) for drug references, coarse language, and some adult themes. I do not own the cover pic! Enjoy xx

Kavinsky could imagine his fingers trailing on more skin, his lips following his touches. He could imagine the breathy moans Ronan would let slip despite his best efforts to be silent. He imagined the world they would build together—they were suited for each other as no others were before. ROVINSKY

"Kavinsky!" Ronan said it like he meant to say a prayer. He was dreaming. Of course he was dreaming. But still- it was Joseph Kavinsky. ROVINSKY

A small prose about Ronan and Kavinsky's relationship.