#GOLD RUSH

[eraenaa]

Gold Rush

Aemond Targaryen x Lannister Reader Tag List

Synopsis: Everybody wants you, and I don’t like a gold rush.

Warnings: Enemies to Lovers, Mutual Pinning, Jealousy ¿Simp Aemond?, Mature, 18+, Oral Sex (F & M receiving), Fingering, P in V sex, Face Sitting, Not Proofread 

Word Count: 7, 912 (I may have overindulged) 

Beauty worth their weight in gold, and it’s the greatest blessing from the gods that you have both. The only child of Lord Lannister. Spoiled and sheltered, you had never known hardships or troubles. Pampered in the halls of Casterly Rock or anywhere you go. You leave a trail of mystification, enchantment, and adoration. Suitors line up and beg to pay you tribute. Songs and sonnets are made just to entertain and encapsulate the beauty and purity you have for centuries to come. Commoners and Lords offer their lands, riches, and allegiance just to have your hand, and now, a certain prince dared to join. 

When the words slipped out of your uncle’s lips that you should join your father in his visit to the capital, the Red Keep was abuzz with curiosity. The Golden Beauty of the realm shall grace their presence. They shall finally see and admire the being that has been coveted and praised for years. Prince Aegon was excited, to say in the least. He has been curious and titillated by your said charms ever since poets decided to write nothing about the allure and trance you placed upon men by just one look of your emerald eyes. His brother found it as a hoax. He frowned at how they exalt your name and praise you as if you were The Maiden Herself when, in reality, they only read or hear of you. He would scoff to himself every time his brother would reread the songs made in your name. He would roll his eye every time he heard gossip and talk about you from the maids and knights. He was certain that this popularity and recognition had only made you egotistical and vain— a judgment made and solidified in him despite not having known or met you. 

When the day of your arrival came, his older brother was the first to greet you, whilst Prince Aemond stood by the window and watched from afar. He frowned upon Aegon’s actions greatly, paying recognition to a girl whilst ignoring his wife, but alas, his brother could not be reasoned to nor be persuaded to do his duty. Aegon was always easily swayed and distracted by a pretty face, and with beauty such as yours, the queen’s first son had turned simple. Aemond rolled his eye as he stood by the balcony, watching his brother tour you through the gardens. Aegon displayed a beaming smile and an odd blush on his face as if he were the maiden and not yourself. You simply kept a small, pleasing grin on your lips as the eldest prince kept on speaking and offering you flattery and compliments, trying to ignore the feeling of a gaze following you ever since you entered the palace walls. 

You set your gaze above, catching the lone lilac eye of a second silver prince. You held his gaze, which showed contempt and agitation you did not know the reason for. When Prince Aegon had noticed your attention had shifted, he cast his eyes above only to see his brother with his brooding demeanor, almost scowling at the two of you. “That is only my bitter brother, Aemond. Pay him no mind, my lady,” Prince Aegon stated and offered his arm for you to take. Your eyes shifted between the two princes, quickly curtsying towards the one who stood above and the took hold of his brother’s arm before he hurriedly escorted you out of sight of the younger prince. 

You were soon introduced to the princess, the wife of the elder prince. The princess’ presence you then favored instead of her husband, who had a gown quite… touchy and clingy. You stood next to the princess, who introduced you to her adorable children, babes tugging at the hem of your gown and pleading with you with their big violet eyes to carry them. Your heart grew soft and took the little Prince Maelor into your arms, smiling widely as the babe clung to your neck and buried his adorable face into your hair. “My son has taken quite a liking to you… he is most fastidious to other’s presence, my lady,” The princess smiled. “He is simply adorable, Your Highness,” You say and brush the silver hair of the babe. “He is… he quite reminds me of my younger brother when we were children,” The princess mused, her voice afar with nostalgia. 

“Have you been introduced?” The princess then asked, “To whom?” You inquired, distracted by the babe who shifted in your arms. “To—Ah, Aemond! We were just talking about you,” the princess then exclaimed, the silver prince standing by the door. You turned your gaze to the prince you had not been introduced to yet formally. “Lady Lannister, my brother, Aemond,” The princess introduced, and you curtsied since more at the one-eyed prince while having his nephew in his arms. You hindered your frown as he said no word, only simply giving a nod and the action of his lips thinning. 

“I was just telling Lady Lannister how much Maelor resembles you when we were younger,” the princess smiled. You turned to the prince, who tried to give his sister a small smile but looked more like a grimace. “The young prince is quite charming,” You smiled and turned to the prince, who stood before you, stiff and brooding. Aemond clenched his jaw as his eye caught yours once more; you are not at all chaste nor demure in the presence of royalty as any young lady should ought to be. You were perfectly comfortable taking a member of the royal family into your arms as if you were equal in rank. Aemond seemed to stand uncorrected with his early judgment of you. 

“She is quite handsome… I always thought the songs they made were an exaggeration, but it seems to not do her justice,” Aemond heard his mother whisper to his sister, quite entranced by your beauty, and it would seem as would everyone present at the dinner table. Princess Helaena generously invited you to their intimate family dinner. His hand clenched around his chalice of wine as his brother shamelessly leaned closer to you and whispered something in your ear to cause a sweet, amused smile to play on your lips. “Are you not bothered by this?” Aemond could not help but as his sister. “About about what, brother?” Helaena asked, clueless and concerned by the agitated state of her younger brother. 

“Lady Lannister, we are most glad that you are finally here to accompany your father,” the queen said, not allowing Aemond to answer his sister’s query. “Thank you, your Majesty. You have all been so welcoming to my presence.” You smiled and could not help but let your gaze travel to the one-eyed prince, whose contempt had been nothing but plain and quite obvious. “Of course, the golden beauty of the realm is most welcome here indeed,” Aegon then chimed in. “But may I ask why it is only now that you join your father to the capitol?” The queen inquired; your gaze flew around the table, eyes expecting your answer, except for the lilac gaze of the younger prince, who stared steely and harshly at his plate. “Oh… it is because my father and uncle wishes for me to be acquainted with the court… for they are planning for me to marry soon, your Grace,” You said truthfully. That is when you feel a lone eye finally place itself upon your frame. 

The queen hummed and looked not at all shocked by your admittance; her children, however, shared different expressions from what you could read. The princess simply nodded with a ghost of a smile on her lips. The prince beside you seemed surprised and, dare you say, disappointed by your purpose of coming. And the prince across from you seemed… you could not decipher his reaction through his hard gaze. 

When morning came, you were pleased to receive an invitation from the princess to join her in the gardens to break your fast. You followed a squire, and you were led to a table surrounded by flowers and greenery, three children of the crown waiting for you. A pleasing princess and her brothers, one stoic, the other drunken. “Good morning, Your Highnesses,” You greeted and bowed, surprised as the young prince stood and matched your curtsy, moving to assist you to assist you to a seat across from him. You try not to over-analyze his actions; just hours before, he seemed disinterested in you— animosity was heavy around him. However, now, there seemed to be an air of civility surrounding him. 

“What are your engagements today, my lady?” Princess Helaena asked as she sipped on her tea, you stirred yours and replied. “My father was planning to introduce me to some of the members of the court,” You say and turn to acquire the last piece of candied lemon. “Some suitors?” The princess asked, her brothers not at all joining in the conversation, merely sitting around the two of you as if they were dolls. “I am not quite certain, princess,” You say and let your gaze travel to Prince Aemond, who stared at the candied lemon on your plate. 

“Do you have a favorite among them?” Prince Aegon then inquired; you frowned at his question. “I beg your pardon?” You asked for clarification. “Does any of your suitors hold great favor with you?” He said and took a chalice into his hand so early in the morning. “I have still yet to meet them, my prince… but I was told that Lord Arryn’s son was quite handsome, and many ladies of the court seem to favor him,” You answered but was turned to the princess, the topic seemingly more appropriate for the two of you. “Ah, yes, handsome Lord Henry,” Princess Helaena said in recognition, “It is true that he is comely. However, I heard he is one to wander,” The princess said delicately. Confusion painted your face once more, and it was the second prince who clarified, 

“Lord Henry is quietly known for his depravity,” Prince Aemond said, making your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Like our brother Aegon,” he added, smirking as that earned a giggle from his sister. “I think it would best if you stay far from the son of Lord Arryn,” The princess said, and you nodded along. 

You spent the day being introduced to Lords and Ladies of the Court, but more specifically, their sons. You felt the constant drone of a gaze following you as you conversed with the prospects of your hand. Their faces seemingly merged, and their names eluded you, so you could only offer them your pleasing smile and mindless small talk and keep your hand on their arm. 

“Do you not have to train, brother?” Helaena then appeared beside Aemond, who was hidden behind a pillar, as he observed you being acquainted with the eligible sons of the court. Helaena held a cheeky smile as she caught his brother’s actions. You had only arrived yesterday, and the princess was already certain that you had caught the attention of her enigmatic brother. It was plain to her the attraction and curiosity Aemond harbored for the golden beauty of the realm, even long before you arrived. Yes, the One-Eyed prince would scoff when his eye would catch anyone reading a pamphlet containing the written songs in your name. Still, Helaena noted that he was the first one to acquire the said pamphlets, religiously reading them until Aegon caught wind of a lioness whose beauty was hidden in Casterly Rock. As a result, the one-eyed prince hindered himself from admitting that he and his brother were attracted to the same girl. Yes, the One-Eyed prince would roll his eye in annoyance whenever he heard gossip about you in the halls, yet he still stayed and listened to all of them. 

“Should you not be joining the line of her suitors?” Helaena teased, amused by the way her brother’s nostrils flared and his jaw clenched. Helaena waited for his reply, but none came. It was a rare occurrence for Aemond to not find words. “I shall see you at supper, sister,” Aemond gritted and walked off, leaving Princess Helaena amused and with new ammunition to lovingly tease her brother. 

Supper came, and to Aemond’s displeasure or satisfaction, you were there. Seated next to his sister, whispering and giggling as if you were the oldest friends when, in reality, you had only waltzed into their life just the other day. He supposed that he should find joy that his sister had finally befriended someone, but must it be you? 

Must it be you who had to join them in supper and be in his constant presence? Seducing and tempting him even though you merely just sat there— making him question himself and his honor as he watched wine stain your lush lips or the way you would let out a low moan at the taste of the pie placed on your plate. You were too much of a temptation, a trial sent by the gods to test his patience and honor, in which he was seemingly failing, for all he wanted to do earlier was cut all the suitors who dared touch you and now taste the wine on your lips. 

When supper had come to an end, Aemond was quick to stand and had a great wish to retire to his rooms, but his mother had different plans. “Aemond, will you escort Lady Lannister to her quarters? A young lady cannot be left alone in the halls at such an hour,” You turned your expecting gaze to the prince, watching as his jaw ticked and his tense form turned rigged. It was alarmingly clear that he had no wish to extend such generosity to you, but still, he obliged his mother and offered his leather-clad arm for you to take. 

You walked out of the dining hall in exchange for the corridor. Tense, suffocating air surrounds you and the second-born prince, whose reluctance was nothing short of obvious. You tried to make polite conversation with him as he walked with you through the never-ending, dimly lit halls of the Red Keep, but his replies were only a nod and a grunt. When you reached the door of your chambers, you let go of the prince’s arm, pride wounded as you were completely ignored and could feel unaccounted animosity towards you. “Good night, Your Highness,” You drawled, growing annoyed by the moment but still had the respectability to lowly curtsy before the prince. 

Aemond gulped as you curtsied before him once again, giving him a heavenly sight of your bosom that made him stiffen in his spot. He knew that your actions were a sign of respect; he should take it as a compliment that you had bowed before him lowly, but every time you did so, all you did was tempt him more. You were shameless as you fashioned a dress with such a neckline, giving every man a sight for their desires to only fester. Now he knew why every man who had encountered you had been left entranced and obsessed; you were a vixen, a true lioness. 

Days passed as you stayed in the Red Keep, and you could feel the constant and growing animosity and disapproval Prince Aemond held for you. You had no idea the reason for it; you could not recall what you had done for him to grow so callous and mean towards you. You would hear his scoffs of derision whenever someone paid you a compliment, and he was within earshot to hear it. You would catch him as he would roll his unique lilac eye whenever you spoke or offered your opinion or even when you laughed. It was such a shame that such a handsome and attractive prince was so vile and rude. You were growing impatient and irritated with him. On any other occasion, your course of action will be to avoid and not put yourself in situations that would require you to be near the prince, but somehow, the gods were cruel and had twisted fate to have you in each other’s presence constantly. 

When night finally came and offered respite from the bitter prince, you sighed in your chambers and tried to find a reason for his contempt towards you. It was an odd feeling you did not wish to fester; all your life, everyone you met was quick to grow fond of you. You were quick to leave them enchanted by your beauty and charms. You named it as your greatest gift— your greatest power was how well beloved you are by anyone… how you could wrap them around your pretty little fingers, which is why the prince’s dislike for you had left you entirely unnerved and bothered. You were growing scared that perhaps your charms were slipping and soon, all too, would feel the same animosity the prince harbors for you. You could not find rest that night, fear trickling into your system. The prince had unraveled your deepest fears with just his quiet distaste.  

You step out of your guest chambers and threaded the halls of the Red Keep, walking the darkened halls and trying to find distraction in the library. You walked straight and paid no mind if any soul was in the library because you were certain that no one else would be present at this hour. You were mistaken. 

Prince Aemond frowned to himself, thinking his mind had placed a trick upon him. The image of you haunted him even in the dead of night when he thought he could finally escape your beautiful torment. But as he heard books being retrieved from shelves and the way your scent wafted to where he sat, he grew aware that the image he saw was no apparition. You were there, with him, alone in the quiet room. 

Aemond took quiet steps towards you, the moonlight bathing you in its light. Your frame aglow, making you look more ethereal as the silver light lights your golden mane. Aemond clenched his jaw as the same prominent desire for you only bloomed tenfold. “You should not be here,” He gritted, standing at arm’s length. It was concerning that he was standing at such a close proximity and you have yet to notice. It only solidified his theory that you were so enveloped in only yourself that you care not about the world around you. Aemond bit his tongue as an amused smirk threatened to escape to his lips. You jumped in your spot and turned to him wide-eyed in fear. He had never seen a lion frightened. 

“My prince… I— I apologize, I did not know that the libraries are restricted at these hours,” You said and closed the book in your hand. “It is not,” comes the reply of the prince, making a frown of confusion paint your face. You turned your entire frame towards him, peering up at the prince who looked at you with nothing but resentment in his cold lilac eye. “Then why shouldn’t I be here?” You asked with a tilt of your head.“You should be in your chambers.” Aemond gritted and removed his gaze from you because looking at you illuminated by the moonlight made him feel too much. He stepped back, but you matched his actions and stepped forward. He took a step back again, and you only mimicked his steps. It was an odd scene, a dragon being toyed by a lioness. 

Watching Prince Aemond’s nostrils flare and his jaw tick again made you smirk, as he was clearly annoyed by your presence. “You do not like me,” you suddenly announced, making his shielded gaze cast itself upon your eyes again. “You do not know me, yet you do not like me… why is that?” You asked and stepped forward once again, leaving just a sliver of space between you and the prince. Aemond gulped thickly as you were just a breath away from him. Your scent evading his senses, your enchanting eyes assessing his every move. 

“Oh, I know you,” He spat but felt his knees weaken when you raised your brow, painting a fake confused look on your pretty face. Siren eyes mockingly turned into doe ones, and plump lips parted in fictitious shock. “You do?” You asked. “You know me? I apologize, my prince, but I do not recall our first encounter. Please, tell me how you know me,” you rolled your eyes and finally let your annoyance slip, for you had enough of the prince’s judgment. The prince and you stared each other down, him not finding words as you had your expressive, scathing gaze upon him. He did not know how to handle himself— he was always silver-tongued and quick-witted, never one to be speechless, but apparently, that changed when it came to you. When pitted against you, he felt like the quiet, dragon-less little boy he once was. His raging fire weakened and turned to mere flickers. 

You scoffed and shook your head, not wavering or stepping away from the prince, ready to retire back to your room, but he took hold of your arm and pulled you even closer to him. “I know you. You’re a spoiled… vain… flirtatious little brat,” He spat, and watching your eyes widen and fill with offense brought back Aemond’s confidence, and he once again gained his silver tongue and towering, imposing demeanor. He watched as your cheeks flushed and wondered how it would feel to touch them. Would it be as hot as the fire that burned in his veins? 

“My father and uncle used to always speak highly about you… about how cavalier, genteel, and dutiful the second prince of the realm was— it is disheartening to be faced with a mean, calloused boy who had shown me nothing but animosity since I’ve arrived— animosity which I do not understand the reason of!” You retaliated and pried his hold off you, Aemond trying not to grow amused as you said the words with a stomp of your foot as if you were throwing a tantrum. “You want to know the reason?” Aemond hummed as you glared at him. “Yes.” You said and crossed your arms across your chest. Aemond caught the action and reminded himself not to let his eye linger upon the deep live between your bosom. He was certain you did that on purpose. You were calculated; you did each of your actions, knowing fully well that it would elicit a reaction from those around you that would only selfishly serve you and your vanity. 

He could see it in how you interacted with the lords and other men, flashing your coy smile, batting your eyelashes, and seducing them with just a mere movement from your graceful frame. He could see it in how you toyed with Aegon, letting him whisper things to your ear, leaning in closer when the older prince spoke, and laughing at whatever meaningless word came out of the prince’s wine-smelling mouth. And you did it with him as well, the way your eye would hold his gaze, seeking him out during dinner and distracting him whilst in training. You were a shameless flirt. Someone who craved attention, and everyone seemed to be grateful to give you what you sought— except Aemond.

“Because you are a flirt— a tease. You toy with men because you were gifted with beauty,” Aemond seethed and that only brought a deep furrow on your brows. “I am no such thing!” You defended yourself, and the prince only scoffed and rolled his eyes. “You are. It is plain. You have them wrapped around your fingers— you know how easily an attractive face persuades them,” the prince said but frowned as he saw your lips twitch upward. As if his words and insults were a jest. “Tell me, my prince… do you agree with their sentiments? Do you find me attractive as well?” You asked and tilted your head, smirking to yourself as the dragon’s fire stuttered and backed away once more. It was a battle, each opponent taking their hits and reloading in time just to fight with the other again. 

The prince gulped and felt heat rise to the tips of his ear; luckily, the reddening flesh was covered by the curtain of his silver locks. “I— I don’t,” He said and stood his ground, forcing his voice to be steady and scathing though he told a plain lie. “I do not find you attractive,” He said more firmly and slightly more convincing this time. “You don’t?” You asked and watched as he curtly nodded and thinned his lips. “That is good,” you mused and backed away from the little space you had given him. The prince’s brow twitched as you said your sentiment, as he heard relief from your voice. “Why is that?” He curiously asked his turn to step closer to you. 

“Because your mother had proposed to my father that a union between us would be well suited; well suited to whom I do not know, but that is what she had proposed. Telling my father that she had needed to bring the subject to you to see if you agreed.” It was a nice scene to see the prince’s whole body turn to stone in shock. His thin lips parted, and his eyes held cluelessness and disbelief. You took the moment of silence from the prince to speak once more. “Well, it is most fortunate that you clearly don’t agree— it would save me from having to be in the presence of such a… prejudiced and bitter prince.” You relished the way you caught his hand clenched around nothing and the way you were certain he was ready to turn violent by your words. However, you still continued to speak.  

“Though the title of princess is quite tempting, and I am certain I’d look exquisite with a tiara— I’d rather run off with the stable boy and live in squalor than live in a place with you.” You finished with a satisfied smirk on your lips at the murderous look on the prince’s face. When his lips parted and tried to speak, he flailed on what to say. That only added to your triumph. “Good night, my prince, Aemond,” You said in a sickly, sweet tone and lowly curtsied again before walking your way back to your chambers. 

It should greatly shame the prince. His actions would haunt him for moons to come, but the moment you exited the library, and he was once again left alone, he succumbed to his desires and undid the laces of his trousers. Pulling his painfully hardened length and pleasured himself with the thought of you. Your scent still hung in the air, and your voice still rang in his ear, but what pushed him over the edge was the image of you curtsying, almost going to your knees before him. His mind was made then. Whatever act he had portrayed the past few days will quickly come to an end for he shall certainly agree with his mother that a union between him and you would be most suited. 

You sat in disbelief and utter confusion as your father announced to you that a union between you and the prince shall take place. “Why? Wh— did the queen ask his thoughts on this? Or was it just your and Her Majesty’s decision?” You questioned as you recalled the night in the library with the prince. It had only been two days since the heated and angered scene transpired, and you had done your best to avoid him and his raging lilac gaze. “The prince came to me and asked for your hand. And given the conversation I had with the queen, I assumed that his proposal has her blessing.” Your lips agape, and you try to work out your objections, but your father cupped your cheeks. “You, my darling, will be a princess just like you had always dreamed of.” He said softly, recalling how you ran the halls of Casterly Rock with a tiara atop of your head when you were younger— always begging your septa to tell you stories of princesses and their princes finding 'happily ever after.’

“I shall leave you to get ready— it will be announced to the court later today, and the wedding shall take place in a week’s time.” He announced, making you stand in utter surprise. “What?! Father— Why so soon?” You asked in disbelief. “The queen wishes his son to be married before the king meets his demise. He wishes for the king to witness Aemond joyously with his bride,” You were stunned and were certain that joy would not appear from a union between you and Aemond, making the Queen’s wishes moot. “Now, make haste as you shall be presented with your betrothed!” Your father smiled and kissed the top of your head, and hurriedly left the guest chambers. 

Aemond observed as your proud gaze was planted on the floor as they announced the upcoming union between the two of you. He was certain that news had left you in quite a state of confusion. The prince passed his eye at the sea of people, mostly on the men who had lined up for years and courted you, only to witness that the beauty they coveted was then promised to the dragon prince. Aemond’s look turned to his brother, whose jealous gaze was upon him, and Aemond couldn’t help but smirk. He then returned his gaze to you again, finally having looked up and locked your eyes upon him. Nothing but confusion in your orbs, and perhaps anger that Aemond simply found endearing. 

“I do not understand.” You gritted as you and Aemond were given a chance of privacy to get to know more about each other before the wedding. You two were in the room of the small council, the queen, your father, and the lord commander standing by the other side of the door lost in discussion as you and your betrothed were about to thread towards an argument. “You and I shall marry each other; what is so hard to understand?” The prince retorted. “I suppose the saying is true… the more comely the woman is, the more she is simple,” Aemond quickly added, grinning at how quickly you were to grow red in rage. Your cheeks match the scarlet of your gown. 

“Why, in the name of the seven, would you agree to this?! You and I are not suited for each other!” you whispered harshly, not wanting your parents to hear you quarrel. "And what makes you think so?” The prince hummed, stepping closer to you, tightening in his trousers once more as your plump lips were agape. “I haven’t had a civil conversation with you. All our interactions have been arguments— do you truly think that a marriage between us would work?” You asked incredulously, mind spinning at how abrupt, incomprehensible, and inexplicable the fates were. “You wish for a civil conversation? Let us have one then,” he simply replied and took a seat in one of the chairs housed in the long table separating the two of you.

You took in deep breaths and studied as he sat calmly, his hands placed atop the wooden table. You eventually took the seat across from him. “Why did you agree to this union?” You asked, your mind still replaying the scene in which he stated plainly that he dislikes you greatly. “Because I am in need of a wife,” he answered. You licked your lips and shook your head. “Why me, then? When you are perfectly aware of our shared… distaste for one another,” You said and watched as the prince shrugged. “Because…” the prince trailed, licking his lips as he was certain you would not believe what he would utter because he himself would find it hard to believe as well at how he had treated you since you had come. “I want you.” He finally said after a long moment of steely silence. The prince clenched his jaw as he heard you scoff, and a sardonic, melodious laugh soon followed. “You want me?” You asked, “What? You want to punish me? Make me miserable with a union with a man who hates me?” You added. “I do not hate you,” the prince sighed and rolled his eye as you stubbornly shook your head. 

“Ever since I have arrived all you had done was glare at me, pick quarrels and squabbles. You had offended me right to my face, and now you say want me?” You asked incredulously. “They say Targaryens are mad… but I had hoped your mother’s blood had leveled your and your sibling's heads.” You mumbled and did not expect to see an amused look on the prince’s face. A beat of silence surrounded the two of you, staring each other down. A lioness with a confused scowl on her face, and a dragon who had amusement and content on his. “I still do not understand,” You said, and the Prince sighed once more.

“It was all an act,” he sighed. My animosity towards you—all of it was an act. A facade to protect me because when I saw how you interacted with the other prospects for your hand… how obliging you were with them, I could not stomach the fact that you would not be mine,” he admitted, letting himself be vulnerable for the first time in years. I… I do not like sharing,” he then added. 

“I was five and ten when I read the first poem written for you,” he started. “I have not seen you… I have not a clue of who you were except that you were Ser Tyland’s kin, and you were of great beauty as they have written, and you already managed to make me grow curious,” You stayed silent as the prince continued on to explain. “I waited every week for new poems to be published… the songs in your name still did not receive much recognition— you were still unheard of by the others. I was certain I was the only one who bought those pamphlets; you were a secret for me alone.” You nodded along and rested your back against the chair, observing the prince intently as he spoke. “Aegon found the pamphlets and began to grow curious too… along with the entire kingdom, and I just did not enjoy the thought that I have to share the desire to know you— to be with you with other men,” He finished, and you bit your tongue as you did not know how to take the prince’s explanation. Was it flattering or puzzling? You had no clue. All you knew was your heart was beating loudly in your chest and your stomach was filled with butterflies. 

“My uncle often shared stories of you and your siblings…” You spoke, your turn to share an anecdote. “As a child, I have always been enthralled by the idea of royalty. So he would oblige me and tell me stories of the Dragon Princes.” Aemond nodded along as your eyes were cast upon the wooden table. “He would always go into great detail about your brother, Aegon… seeing he will be king, but I was always more curious about you,” You admitted. “But he said you always kept to yourself, so he could not truly tell me stories about you, so I would make him repeat the anecdotes already told time and time again. On how kind you were with your sister and how dutiful you were to your mother… how you were brave and determined— ceaselessly training with the sword even if you had lost your eye. And if you were not training, you were adding to your scholarly knowledge.” You turned your gaze to the Prince’s exceptionally beautiful lilac eye, “I have been fond of you long before I have met you, my prince. Ask my father and uncle… or anyone in Casterly Rock, for that matter,” You said truthfully, watching as Aemond’s lips twitch into a smile

“I would admit; I came here with the hopes of getting to know you… that perhaps a match between us would fall organically and not one that our father and mother made.” You said and fisted the fabric of your scarlet gown as your heart beat loudly at your admittance. The prince licked his lips, “Should it matter how this union was made?” He asked, “Either way, in the end, we’ll still get what we both want,” Aemond stated, his whole being satisfied as he was not the only one who pinned over a person he was still yet to meet. “I suppose not,” you smiled as your impending nuptials with a prince you had dreamed of since you were a child was to come. The door then swung open, revealing your father along with the Queen.“I hope the both of you had gotten the chance to grow more acquainted with each other,” The queen smiled, already excited with the prospect of your marriage and for you to be her daughter. You were most fitting to their family; not only will her son gain an incredibly charming and comely wife, but her daughter too will gain a friend. 

“We have, your grace,” You said with a small smile. She gave a pleased nod, and her smile widened, “That is good. Come with me, child. Plans have to be made, and you still have yet to be fitted for your gown!” She said and held out her hand for you to take. You stood and turned briefly to your betrothed; you once again curtsied before him. Now, a smile intended for him was placed on your pink lips, and Aemond’s longing gaze followed you as you walked out of the room with his mother. 

The day of your wedding was quick to come, and you felt entirely giddy and excited about marrying Prince Aemond. Your father escorted you down the aisle, the eyes of the kingdom following you as you gracefully walked to your soon-husband, who had a rare smile on his lips. When your father gave your hand for the prince to take, you felt gooseflesh scatter throughout your entire body. Aemond looked at you adoringly throughout the entirety of the ceremony, not at all paying attention to the Maester who blessed your union. 

Aemond was entirely impatient for him to announce you as his wife and for him to finally be able to kiss your lips. To mark you as his in front of the gods and the entire kingdom. And when that moment finally came, the desire that burned brightly inside the both of you only grew. Aemond was not one to show affection publicly, but he could not hinder himself as he cupped your cheeks to deepen your kiss that was witnessed by all present in the hall. Their screams and cheers faded and turned mute as both of your lips intertwined. 

Suppressed desires could not be contained any longer as you and Aemond had finally had a taste of each other. There was supposed to be a banquet to celebrate your union; the Queen had organized the feast to perfection, and your father spared no expense for the celebration. But it was unfortunately missed by you and your husband as Aemond quickly led you to your shared bed chambers, both of you unable to wait for nightfall to be in each other’s arms. 

“Aemond,” You mewled as he pushed you up against the stone pillar in your chambers. His lips kissed your neck, leaving his mark with every kiss, and his hands quickly untied the laces of your gown. You hear him growl as you boldly move your hand to cup his hardened length against his trousers, hesitant as you move your hand. “We should be in the feast,” You said but made no move to halt your pleasurable actions. Aemond shook his head, “Do you want to attend the feast, or do you want to be pleasured, wife?” He asked and watched with dark eyes as the sleeves of your dress draped down your arm and revealed more of your milky skin. “I want you, husband.” You breathed, and Aemond let out a pleasurable sound as your hold on his length tightened. 

“Kneel,” Aemond gritted, and your eyes widened at his command. “Kneel and show your devotion to your lord husband,” Aemond demanded and clenched his jaw as you did as he asked, slowly going to your knees, your eyes still locked upon him. You licked your lips as you were eye-leveled with his bulging length, “Take it out,” Aemond commanded and tightly closed his eye as you did the action, your skin finally touching his. You bit your lip at his massiveness, at how well-endowed he was and how beautiful he fully was. You swallowed thickly as you recalled the books you had read in the dead of night, detailing how man and woman should be. 

Aemond let out a strained sound as you placed a ghost of a kiss upon the tip of his cock, your name spewing from his lips as you peppered light kisses along his length. “Stop being a tease, little wife,” he gritted and felt his stomach tighten at the smirk on your lips and the view of you kneeling before him. Your dress had dropped lowly, and he could see most of your bosom that had been tempting him for days on end. 

You let out a breath and to him to your mouth. You half expected yourself to be repulsed, but with each moment you had his length between your lips, bobbing your head, sucking harshly, hearing the moans your husband spewed, and looking at his pleasured etched face, you felt your cunt drip with want and anticipation. Aemond groaned louder as you fondled his other parts, thanking the gods for blessing him with you as his wife. Thanking them for their favor to let him be bound to the Golden Beauty of the realm. The prince breathed in harshly as the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, the need for release in him loudly pronouncing itself, making him abruptly pull out. He could not be so selfish and let himself succumb to pleasure whilst you were still filled with need. 

Aemond pulled you to stand, fervently meeting your lips once more, and guided you to bed. Your dress finally fell, and Aemond greedily took one of your tit into the hot cavern of his mouth. He bit the bud and elicited a sweet whine from your lips, and he quickly soothed it with his tongue and felt you clung to him tighter. Taking his other hand and guided it to you other needing tit to pleasure it as well. Aemond smirked upon your bosom at how in need you were of him. Aemond moved his lips to your neglected tit, and his hand trailed down south, your eyes rolling back and your hands fisting the back of his head as you finally felt his cold hands upon your needing heat. 

“So desperate for me, little wife,” Aemond hummed in satisfaction. Your moans echoed throughout the chambers, along with the sound of your wetness as Aemond slipped his finger in you, his thumb circling the pearl of your cunt, earning more of your sweet moans. Aemond moved to kiss your lips again, feeling how tightly your cunt clenched around his finger. You parted your lips as you felt climax nearing, your wide, lusted eyes locked in with your husbands, but before you could even succumb to ultimate pleasure, Aemond stole away his finger. “Aemond,” You whined, but your husband only smirked and pecked your lips. Making you watch as he brought his coated fingers to his lips and sucked the essence of you clean. 

Your mind was dazed and frustrated as he denied you pleasure. Your eyes followed him as he removed his tunic and lay nakedly on the silk sheets of your feathered bed. “Come here,” He ordered, and you hesitated for a moment. You took your bottom lip between your lips and did as told, moving to straddle him as he lay. His hands found home on your hips, urging you to move forward, and you furrowed your brows in confusion as your core threaded farther away from his length. “Aemond, I—“ Words were lost as the prince’s lips were met with your cunt. His hands forcing you down upon his face. Your head tilted back in pleasure as you rolled your hips upon his face, his prominent nose perfectly aligned with your nubbin and his tongue darting in and out of your tightness. 

“Aemond,” You cried as your thighs were quick to shiver; release was finding you once more. “Aemond… Aemond…” You uttered his name like a prayer. With one flick of his tongue, you came undone, your moans ringing loudly that you were certain that it was heard in the halls but could not find care. Aemond had a slight smirk as he moved you closer to his length. Your eyes were still glazed from your climax, and your mind was so disoriented that you did not even realize that Aemond had positioned his length at your entrance. The sharp pain of your maidenhead being taken was the only indication you had that you had now sunk upon his cock. 

Aemond relished at the sight of you atop of him, your cunt taking and squeezing his cock. Your breast was heaving, and your eyes were welling with tears. Aemond reached out and took your bosom into his calloused hands, kneading the taut, soft flesh— earning a pleasured moan through your pain. Aemond gave you the liberty to move whenever you felt comfortable doing so. He was an impatient man, but he savored every small movement you made as you clenched along his cock. 

Your furrowed brows dissipated, and your mouth parted as the tip of cock perfectly hit the spot inside of you that made you see stars. Aemond’s breathing labored as you rolled your hips, seeking further friction. He moved his cold hands to your hips and guided you to bounce upon his cock. “Aemond!” You cried, and Aemond could only marvel at your pleasured face and bouncing tits; you squeezed him so tightly that slight pain mixed with his delight. “Are you going to come, my wife? Will you come at your husband’s cock?” Aemond hummed and sat up, placing his head between your ample breasts, greedily inhaling your scent. “Yes… gods, yes!” You cried as he harshly thrust inside you. Both of you meet your peak, Aemond spilling his seed deep inside your cunt and you clawing at his bare back and leaving your own marks. 

“My wife,” Aemond hummed in satisfaction and nuzzled his nose against yours, a smile on your lips as your foreheads pressed as the cheers from the feast that you two disregarded were lowly heard in your chambers, “My prince,” You smiled and kissed his lips, your heart full. Your being wholly satisfied as you were bound to the prince that your young heart had wanted long before. 

[hope-ur-ok]

the crowd lost it over tiwycf, as they should honestly

[stillgotscars]

gold rush - taylor swift

[always-rolling-my-eyes]

Everyone is in our family business 😭

[midnightarcheress]

Simon has a new assignment.

pairing: bodyguard!ghost x actress!reader 1 | gold rush masterlist.

after years exhausting his body in the military and too many losses to count, Simon decided to retire. goodbye extensive deployments, food and sleep deprivation, constant adrenaline pump in his veins, hours spent washing the blood off of his fingernails. except he didn’t truly retire. life as a civilian again was too strange, too boring. he thrives in following orders and being the best at it. he missed having a purpose, even if it’s far from saving the world.

so, because of that, he agreed on joining a private military company as a contractor. never takes the dirty, mercenary-like jobs though – despite being rusted, his moral compass is still there, so he usually sticks with the security, training, bodyguarding type of work. easy enough to not take a toll on his body, and to not strain his conscience with the worry of ending innocent lives to cover up some bastard’s filth, but demanding enough to keep his mind out of his own life for a while.

the guy on the other side of the line doesn’t tell him much about the new task. bodyguard for an actress, indefinite time, details via e-mail. a few minutes later, the computer screen lights up with the case information and his eyes skim through the text; famous actress, has been receiving threatening letters and who ultimately has a stalker. a seemingly uncapturable one, as the police have not been able to trace them for months. incompetent wankers. in his prime he would locate terrorists with ease; nothing he couldn’t do right now, but his contract was strict – keep her safe and keep to yourself.

he doesn’t recognize the name, but the small picture attached to the message is slightly familiar, maybe from one of the times he spent hours flicking through the channels on the telly while battling a crippling insomnia. his brows knit together when he peers at the set of rules that accompanies the e-mail. no talking, no touching unless extremely necessary, must keep distance at all times.

in the months he’s been working in the company, he never had a job with an actual celebrity – mostly politicians and businesspeople, extremely straightforward and simple to execute, usually for a short period of time. he’s convinced that it will be the longest mission of his life, probably dealing with an entitled rich woman who’s used to having everybody begging at her feet.

dread fills his mind as he watches the trees quickly passing by his window on the car. the drive to the meeting is short enough to contain the rate of the antipathy brewing on his chest, but long enough to make him question accepting the assignment.

he pulls up on the driveway and walks towards a tall, modern building, filled with frantic people walking from side to side. glancing at his phone, he re-reads the details of the reunion; second door on the 23th floor, her manager will be expecting you. his fingers tap on the side of his thigh as the lift raises to the office level, eyes glaring at the mirror in the back of the platform. the image on the glass differs from the one on his past – military buzzcut and skull-printed balaclava replaced by messy blond locks and a neck gaiter, still covering a bit of his face even after all this time. old habits die hard.

the doors pry open right after the number appears on the screen and he walks down the hallway to the office, stopping on his tracks as he notices a feminine voice coming from inside the room. “i’m scared just as much as you, but is this really necessary?” she’s in there too? wasn’t the meeting only with the guy?

“yes, princess, it is necessary. do you want to make the front-page news as a corpse?” another voice can be heard responding, this time, male. must be the manager.  “in case you've forgotten, i’m also your friend, and i’m merely concerned about your safety. we cannot let that stunt from last week happen again.” stunt. he recalls part of the information on the file, depicting how she was almost assaulted by a weirdo that followed her on the street; however, the creepy prick was cleared from being the stalker and left the station on bail. great justice system. 

“we’ve already increased the security on your house, he was just hired to keep you safe on the outside.” he decides to stop eavesdropping and knocks sharply on the door. “must be him.” the man says, and he listens as footsteps approach the entryway.

“well, hello there. please, come in,” he steps aside, allowing Simon to enter the room. the office is fairly average, leather couch on one corner, portraits on the wall of what he assumes are the man’s clients, but all of the attention goes to the large windows showing a perfect view of the city. “so, i’m Daniel, the great manager as you may know," he smugly speaks, "and of course you already know her.” he gestures to the woman on the armchair.

the woman from the picture. the woman from the late night movie he was absentmindedly watching on a late night. you. you look the same as he'd seen before, but somehow entirely different. the warm sunlight coming through the glass shines on your skin when you stand on your feet, golden flecks twinkling in your irises as you offer him your name and extend a hand to greet him, sweetly mouthing “and you are?”

he shakes your hand with a firm grasp, stirring away the sudden void in his brain and swallowing the lump on his throat that hindered his words. “Ghost.” easy detachment. his gruff voice reverberates in the space as he repeats the orders in his head, the sense of doubt starting to cloud his judgement. keep to yourself. maybe the job won’t be as bad as he thought.

been a bit obsessed with this idea so i decided to write it and see how it goes.

[hits-differently]

gold rush - t.s.

[slut4slytherinss]

Gold Rush

SEND REQUESTS!!

Summary: in which (fem!)reader is in love with Mattheo, but so is everyone else. Reader pushes her feelings deep down, convinced Mattheo, beautiful Mattheo could never love her. In doing so, hurting herself, and a certain curly haired boy.

3,014 words

Warnings: cursing, fighting, slight mention of sexual content, reader being self-conscious, Mattheo being an idiot, Mattheo and his big ego, angst, potentially more parts(???), not proofread bc I don’t have time, a few references to movies IF YOU SQUINT, possibly ooc Mattheo (I haven’t read Everything Black in a hot minute forgive me), use of Y/n, Tom Riddle is Mattheo’s father in this, Regulus is in fact dead (rip my man), Mattheo and reader being a bitch lol, in character-ish Enzo but not headcannon Enzo, THEO IS IN THE SLUG CLUB FOR THE PLOT IM AWARE THAT HE WASNT IN THE BOOKS

2nd person pov

Hufflepuff prefect reader

Female reader

Gleaming, twinkling, eyes like sinking ships on waters. So inviting, I almost jump in.

Your eyes are trained on the dark haired boy, specifically those deep eyes. “I know I’m pretty, you don’t have to stare, love.” Mattheo grins, you quickly dart your eyes away, “I wasn’t staring.” you murmur. He scoots his chair back, the feet scraping against the old library floor, he stands up and walks towards you— not even bothering to push the bloody chair back in. He takes a seat right next to you and rests his chin on your shoulder, “You really should be studying, y’know? Can’t have m’girl failing her exams.” My girl. You roll your eyes. “I’m immune to your charms, Riddle.” You say, almost as if you were trying to convince yourself of that. “Are you, though? I mean, remember in first year when you—“ you quickly cut him off, a foreign red flush invading your cheeks. “I was eleven!” You whisper-yell, his grin widens at your embarrassment. “Okay.” He drags the word out, “Some things never change, badger.” You furrow your eyebrows “Excuse me?” “Y’know? Badger, you’re a Hufflepuff, unless you’re shagging Diggory and stole his tie.” He gestures to your yellow tie, you roll your eyes. “First of all, Cedric is taken and if you call me badger again, I will ruin your pretty face.” “You think I’m pretty?” Another eye roll. “If you keep rolling your eyes at me, they’re gonna get stuck back there.” Before you can reply, a girl you recognize as a Slytherin fifth year, only younger than you by a year, calls for the boy sitting in front of you. “Mattheo! I don’t have all day, c’mon.” He looks back at the blonde girl and sighs, “Merlin’s beard,” he murmurs, then calls out to her “I’m coming Eloise!” Causing you to let out a laugh. He gives you a look, making you laugh even harder. But once he walks away, you realize that he, Mattheo Riddle, is probably hooking up with that girl, that absolute model, making your smile fade. Making you feel like an idiot for even thinking that he’d like you. For thinking you should inflate his ego even further by confessing.

But I don’t like a gold rush, gold rush. I don’t like anticipating my face in a red flush. Everybody wants you. Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you.

-

You clutch your books close to your chest, dodging the hundreds of children rushing to get to class. Like every other day. A paper airplane comes straight toward you, it’s about to hit you clean in the forehead, you duck just in time— but a hand reaches out and catches it. You look over to thank the person, it’s Mattheo. Of course it’s Mattheo. That damned boy never leaves you alone. “You alright?” He asks, seeming genuinely concerned. Of course he does. He always does. “I’m fine, Riddle.” You spit out, fighting back your horrid feelings. He tries to speak but you just walk toward the potions classroom.

Walk past, quick brush. I don’t like slow motion double vision in a rose blush.

-

You sigh as you walk into the lavatory. Standing in front of the sink, you splash your face with some water. Trying to cool yourself down. “Y/n?” Fucking Mattheo. “I really don’t have time for your bullshit, what are you even doing in the girls la—“ you cut yourself off as you see Mattheo, a girl against the wall, not Eloise, a different girl. An older girl, a seventh year. Looking annoyed as ever. You let out a breath of surprise. Shaking your head you turn back around and walk out of the bathroom. Feeling like an idiot. Like always when it comes to that boy.

I don’t like that falling feels like flying till the bone crush. Everybody wants you. But I don’t like a gold rush.

“Wait! Y/n—“ he rushes out of the bathroom to follow you, he grabs your wrist and you turn around quickly. “Let go.” You spit out, he tenses his jaw. “Why are you even acting like this? You don’t need to get so pissed just because you’re jea—“ Slap. Your eyes widen, as well as his, “Did you just slap me?” “No.” you reply quickly. “You just slapped me.” he persists, “No I didn’t.” “Yea, you did.” “Yes I did.” you finally admit. “Why?” He asks, “You said I’m jealous, I’m not jealous. You just have a big head.” “I have other big things.” You slap him again. But this time on his forearm. And, oh Merlin. Why is his arm so muscular? Why are his eyes so deep and brown and beautiful? Why do his oh so pretty brown curls look so pull-able? Why do his lips look so perfect and kissable? Was he always this beautiful? Of course he was. He was always beautiful. You’ve known that since the first time you saw him.

What must it be like, to grow up that beautiful? With your hair falling into place like dominos.

-

You walk into the Slytherin common room with Dorothea, one of your closest friends, she’d convinced you to come to this party. And you’d stupidly agreed. You stupidly got drunk. You stupidly found Mattheo. You stupidly kissed him. You stupidly hooked up with him.

You look around the room, Mattheo has his arm under your neck. “Okay,” you whisper to yourself “yeah, okay. I can get out of here.” You roll over a bit, pulling the covers off of yourself carefully. You easily get out of his warm, soft bed. An odd coldness filling your body as you do so. You slip on your shoes and realize that you don’t have your shirt on, you look around his room, which is surprisingly clean— minus the clothes everywhere, on the doorknob, there’s your shirt. How did it even get there? You shake your head and walk over to it, putting it on over you. You hear Mattheo groan and you quickly look over, he’s still asleep, but reaching out in the bed, as if looking for you. It takes you a moment before you realize that you need to leave before him and his charm pull you back in.

I see me padding ‘cross, your wooden floors. With my Eagles t-shirt hanging from the door.

-

It’s been 3 weeks. 3 weeks since you went to that party. 3 weeks since you found Mattheo. 3 weeks since you kissed him. 3 weeks since you hooked up with him. 2 weeks and 6 days since you woke up in his room and mission impossible escaped. You haven’t spoke to him, or anyone in Slytherin at all. In fear that he told everyone he knows and you’d never live it down. He didn’t. But you don’t know that. You’re choosing out a dress for dinner, you’re in the slug club, but so is Theodore Nott and those two are friends, best friends even. So of course Mattheo was the boys plus one. No matter that. Dorothea suggests a simple dress that shows off your body, but you shake your head, “No, Dor, that— that doesn’t compliment me right.” So you choose a dress that goes down to your knees, it’s long-sleeved, completely covers your cleavage, which was the goal of course. You paired it with some old converse, not liking the feeling of heels on your feet all night. You have your hair done nicely in your favorite style.

“No Mattheo, I really don’t agree with that, you’re so— so contrarian.” You shake your head, “Oh give me a break!” He groans, but you just give him a look, calling him an asshole with your eyes. He’s just told you an opinion on the muggle-world, he’s a pure blood, seriously, who does he think he is? Giggles can be heard from others sitting around you, including Dorothea and Theodore who are sitting next to each other. Slughorn tries to get you two to stop, “O—okay, Mr. Riddle, Ms. Y/l/n, please refrain from arguments at the table.” “This isn’t an argument, it’s a debate.” You correct.

As you’re walking back to your common room, you overhear some girls talking “Oh, wouldn’t they be such a cute couple?” One of them giggles, the other nods in agreement “They argue so much, plus, doesn’t Y/n Riddle sound so nice?” “Oh I dunno, I’m kind of jealous of her.” A third one adds. Your eyes widen as you realize they’re taking about you and Mattheo. You quickly butt in their conversation, “We would not be a cute couple! He’s insufferable and his ego is larger than himself!” You huff.

At dinner parties, I call you out on your contrarian shit. And the coastal town, we wandered ‘round, had never seen a love as pure as it.

-

“You know that you can’t avoid him all day, right?” Cedric tells you as he notices you staring in Mattheo’s direction in the Great Hall. “I can and I will.” The boy rolls his eyes, “C’mon, when me and Cho get into—“ “Don’t compare you and your girlfriend to me and Mattheo— that’s just.. no!” you mock gag, shaking your head. Cedric just grins at you knowingly, “Why are you smiling at me like that?” you ask, Cedric licks his lips “No reason.” “Shouldn’t you be making out with Cho in a broom closet or something?” you tease, he laughs “Yeah, probably. Shouldn’t you be getting in Mattheo’s pants again?” “Leave it Ced, it will never be.” You murmur as you look down at your tea, mixing it around lazily with your spoon.

And then it fades into the gray of my day old tea. ‘Cause you know it could never be.

-

“Why are you avoiding me?” You stop dead in your tracks, goddamnit. Why is he everywhere? You slowly turn around on your heels, face reddening, “I’m not avoiding you.” you reply simply with a shrug. “Yes you are, I’m sick of it.” He rolls his eyes. “What’s it matter to you? We aren’t friends.” “What are you talking about? Yes we are.” “No, we’re really not Mattheo, you only talk to me when you know I’m going to leave.” You spit out, annoyed with everything, “No I don’t! I talk to you all the—“ you cut him off “Just leave it, I’m done here anyway.” You say before turning back around and walking away, “Well— don’t come crying back to me when you realize no one else cares!” He yells, letting his emotions and large ego get the best of him. “Fuck you!” “You’ve already checked that one off!”

‘Cause I don’t like a gold rush, gold rush. I don’t like anticipating my face in a red flush. I don’t like that anyone would die to feel your touch. Everybody wants you, everybody wonders what it would be like to love you.

-

He is such an asshole! Who the fuck does he think he is?! He has no right to speak to you— or anyone for that matter — like that. You huff as you walk into the Great Hall, feeling his gaze immediately land on you. But you won’t give him the satisfaction of meeting that gaze. Taking a seat at your own houses table, you can hear his friends laughing loudly, stupid boys. The only time you do look over at him is when you hear his fork slam against the table and he stands up from his seat, to be fair, the entire Great Hall looks over at him. He ignores his friends and clenches his jaw as he walks out of the huge room, brushing right past you and leaving a small gust of wind from where he walked. Your lips slightly part as you watch him, but you look away just as quickly. Refusing to let him get his way. You shake your head as you now look over at his friends — who you now realize are staring over at you. Furrowing your eyebrows you mouth an annoyed “What?” to them, hoping to get any explanation. Theodore just shakes his head at you, and Lorenzo Berkshire mouths back a “Nothing.” making you even more annoyed with these boys. You decide to take matters into your own hands and stand up, making your way to the Slytherin table where they’re sitting. “Hello, boys.” you raise your eyebrows expectantly. “Uh — hey..” Blaise Zabini murmurs, “So, are you going to tell me what’s going on with that dickhead who just walked out of the Great Hall making a scene?” Draco Malfoy laughs at that “Dickhead? Did you just call your little boyfriend a dickhead?” “He’s not my boyfriend Malfoy!” you exclaim which causes Draco to laugh and Theo to nudge his arm, Enzo speaks up “Um, Y/n he’s just upset you’re ignoring him.” now the rest of the boys groan, collectively murmuring little “C’mon man!”’s and “Enzo!”’s he throws his hands up in apology. Eyebrows going up you look at them, “Seriously?” you scoff “he’s mad at me because I’m not talking to him? After what he did?”

Walk past, quick brush. I don’t like slow motion double vision in a rose blush. I don’t like that falling feels like flying till the bone crush.

“Why don’t you just make it easy for him and tell him how you feel?” Theo speaks up with a shrug. “Excuse me? And how exactly do I feel Theodore?” you ask, twisting toward him. “You want him, obviously.” “Everybody wants him! I don’t — I don’t like that horrid feeling!” you exclaim loudly, catching the attention of others around you.

Everybody wants you, but I don’t like a gold rush.

Lowering your voice, you rest your hands on the table, pushing Blaise’s plate away to do so. He stops in the middle of his chewing to give you a glare, then continues slowly chewing. “You’ve liked him since fist year, admit it.” Blaise speaks with his mouth full, so it’s a bit muffled. “Shut it and eat your potatoes Zabini.” you spit out. He shrugs and does just that. With Zabini out of the conversation Draco speaks again, “But really, stop leading our boy on.” “I haven’t led him — or anyone for that matter — on!” now it’s Theo’s turn to speak “Well.. you did kinda sleep with him and then leave the next morning,” “That was a mistake.” “Still shitty.” Enzo says. You huff, “That’s — no! Even if it was shitty, it’s not like I’m in love with him. He shouldn’t’ve expected anything from me.” Draco raises an eyebrow “Wow, didn’t know Hufflepuffs were such—“ “Dude, don’t finish that sentence.” Enzo says with an eye roll before looking toward you, “If you don’t like him, then don’t lead him on, it’s not difficult.” Looking him up at down for a moment, you sigh and your eyes move around the group at a quick pace. “Tell him I don’t like him, and — that I’m sorry or whatever.” Damn. That hurt you to say. Who knew it’d be this hard to get over him.

What must it be like, to grow up that beautiful, with your hair falling into place like dominoes?

-

As you lay in your bed, miserable and alone, you think about Mattheo. Because of course you do. He’s plagued your mind since first year. Rolling your eyes, you silently curse yourself for not realizing how horrible it was to fall for him. He’s got the perfect life, minus the fact his father is literally the dark lord, still, he’s rich. He has hundreds of girls in love with him and multiple in his bed. You aren’t going to be any of those girls, not now at least.

My mind turns your life into folklore. I can’t dare to dream about you anymore.

-

You hear your name called out by a familiar voice, Pansy Parkinson, her loud — but not angry — footsteps reverberate along the stone walls of the castle. You stop walking just as she catches up to you, out of breath. She reaches for your shoulder to steady herself and you grab her arm to help her. “What’s wrong Pans?” You ask once she catches her breath. “Riddle told me about what you said.” You wince at the mention, “Oh.” She must notice the look on your face since she adds a quick, “Don’t worry, I’m not mad, that boy needs to learn that not every girl is in love with him.” As an afterthought. “Never mind that, you are,” you furrow your eyebrows “—in love with him. You’re in love with him.” She finishes, which causes you to stammer out a quick and defensive, “Am not!” In response. “You literally gave him a bouquet of flowers, which you handpicked, in first year.” “In first year! Yeah, but that’s not now!” She rolls her eyes, “Come on Y/n/n, you’re just going to end up hurting yourself if you keep saying that.” She then removes her hand from your shoulder and you do the same, “Okay, I’ve got detention now, see ya later.” Then she runs off. She literally runs off after telling you that you’re in love with Mattheo Riddle. As if you didn’t know that. As if you didn’t sleep with him.

I see me padding ‘cross your wooden floors. With my Eagles t-shirt hanging from the door.

-

The last slug club meeting of the year before you leave for Christmas. You aren’t supposed to bring plus-ones, but Slughorn likes Theo too much and let him bring Mattheo. You sit slumped in your chair, dressed nicely though. Dorothea is sick so she couldn’t come. And Mattheo has the audacity to sit right fucking next to you. Purposely making those contrarian remarks, to get you to speak, so he can hear your voice again. Annoyed or not, he wants to hear it. But you don’t. You just stand up and move to sit beside Theo. Mattheo swallows and stops talking, looking down at his food.

At dinner parties, won’t call you out on your contrarian shit.

-

You sit by a garden in Hogsmeade, looking at the flowers silently. Of course, thinking about those girls from a few weeks ago at the Slug club meeting, how they were talking about you and Mattheo. Did everyone think that way? That’s impossible, he’s him, you’re just you. You barely know jack shit about each other. Sighing, you lay back in the grass and fiddle with the strings on your cardigan. It will never be.

And the coastal town, we never found, will never see a love as pure as it. ‘Cause it fades into the gray of my day old tea. ‘Cause it will never be.

-

He stands at your doorframe, knocking on the door rapidly. Hearing you groan on the other side and sheets ruffling. He quickly tries to fix up his messy curls and look at least a hit presentable, you open the door as he’s smoothing out his shirt, he’s in a t-shirt and sweatpants, and you’re — well —in your pink unicorn pajama set, that causes him to grin widely. But then he hears your voice murmur a sleepy “Mattheo?” and becomes serious again. “Um—hey.” He smiles gently, out of character for him. “I know it’s late and all, I just had to um.. talk to you.” You rub your eyes and yawn, “Well?” You ask, eyebrows raised expectantly. “I know we aren’t close or anything, but I really fucking like you. I mean—really like you. It’s so weird for me to feel this strongly over.. well, y’know a girl who I barely know. But you’re just different, you make me feel things—things that no one else does.” He watches you watch him nervously, this is really different than the Mattheo you know. “Anyway.. what I’m trying to say is, I think we’d be really good together. I want us to try it out, if you’d have me?” “Mattheo I—“

Gleaming, twinkling, eyes like sinking ships on waters. So inviting, I almost jump in.

-

A/N: IM SOOO SORRY FOR THIS TKAING SO LONG TO WRITE(literally ignore my spelling mistakes wtf) ANYWAY YEAH, LMK IF I SHOUKD MAKE A OART TWO OR SMTHING?????

PART TWO

MASTERLIST

[andichoseyou]

The Eras Tour surprise songs parallels

June 14, 2024—Liverpool, England: This Is What You Came For / gold rush (mashup)

[baby-girl-aaron-dessner]

1989 + ocean imagery

[alltheswift]

gold rush || surprise song #2 || philly night 1 (may 12, 2023)

[hope-ur-ok]

You know a crowd is loving it when they almost drown out Taylor

[artbyamberliu]

my illustrated album as individual pieces :) evermore by taylor swift!

[kwyw]

I love that Karlie’s walk perfectly matching the Gold Rush beat is making the rounds on Twitter. The proof is undeniable.

(and so cute! Taylor is such a romantic.)

[midnightarcheress]

you panic.

pairing: bodyguard!ghost x actress!reader cw: reader's pov. panic attack, simon in protective mode, hurt/comfort ig? 6 | gold rush masterlist.

you couldn’t breathe. the room seemed small, walls closing in and trapping your limp figure inside of an endless nightmare, compressing your lungs until no air reached your alveolus. the mirror reflected the terror stamped on your face, bloodshot eyes staring at the terrifying warning that froze your blood flow and the trembling hands clutching to your arms, wrapping your torso like a straightjacket, desperately trying to pressure your body into disappearing from that reality.

up to this point, you’ve managed to control your fear. shove your worries aside, trust that nothing would trespass your walls and infinite security measures, promise yourself that it would never infest your brain, but that was the last straw. it was your home. you weren’t safe anywhere and it was just a matter of time until you’d be ripped to shreds in your own garden, crimson painting the destroyed flower beds and a golden crown placed on your head like a perfect corpse-bride.

your knees dropped to the frigid floor with a thud, dreadful mist clouding your vision as tears rolled down your cheeks. you couldn’t think, you couldn’t speak, and the alcohol in your veins only managed to heighten the panic. your soul was floating out of your form, knocking on the bars of the prison, looking for a way out of the ordeal and hoping that it was just a hallucination. the loud thumps of your heart ringed in your ears, muffling Ghost’s attempts to get your attention.

the knot in your throat kept tightening, constricting your vocal cords until the only sounds that could be heard were your strained sobs. being in your own skin was overwhelming and you’d give it all to escape the well you were stranded in, but the water was rising quickly, covering your head and drowning any attempt at tranquillity.

“hey, i’m here,” Ghost said, trying to coax you back to the present, “just focus on my voice, can you take a deep breath for me?” 

your dilated pupils take the sight of him crouched on the floor and follow the movement of his chest, letting his low timbre pierce your eardrum and soothe your heartbeat. you mimic him, feeling the crisp air cursing through your nostrils, down your trachea and bronchi, finally having enough oxygen in your system. 

“can i touch you?” he asks, and you notice the concern behind his hazel irises. you can’t ignore the shame that came with your panicked state, breaking down in front of someone you barely know and who must’ve endured so much worse in his life. you hate feeling weak, frail, like you’d crumble by just one look, but you need comfort. need it so badly that you nod, allowing him to take your quivering hand in his.

his grip is firm, and despite the roughness of his palm, the touch is delicate, tender, enveloping you in gentle heat. you melt in his arms, pitiful sobs leaving your lips when you turn in nothing more than putty in that moment. “shh, i got you, everything will be alright,” he coos, doing his best to calm you, but you couldn’t believe him.

how could everything be alright? the last ounce of safety you had was just taken from you. “it’s my– it’s my home, Ghost,” you stutter, lifting your head to look at him, “i’m not safe in my own home anymore, i can’t–” another wave of tears flood your waterline, and you stop before finishing your sentence. the anxiety was still bubbling in your stomach, it was still too much to handle at once. 

“i know, love, i’ll get you out of here, trust me. nothing will harm you. now just breathe, okay? slow and steady.” his tone is light, almost ethereal, but unmistakably determined. it sounded more than just a phrase to pacify you. it was a promise. a vow. one made with his whole heart and he wouldn’t die before making sure you’re safe.

it takes a while before your brain settles back, slipping out of the hysteria. Ghost lifts you to your feet, taking a step back to give you some space. you sense him studying your expressions, wanting a hint of how to proceed. “what do you need?” he questions softly.

what do i need? the query lingers on your mind while he gazes at you. you're not sure. you never had an attack like this, never had an emotional collapse, never needed so much comfort. “i... don't know,” you gulp, glancing around the room and viewing the bathroom door, “i guess i could go for, uhm, a bath? it might help, right?”

he nods, pacing past you and walking through the door. you faintly hear the running water filling the bathtub and you strip off your heels, your clothes, let your hair fall down and your skin feel the cool air of the room. you shiver, but the tingling of the cold reminds you that you’re still alive, so there’s still a flimsy hope of peace in your future. 

you put on a robe and head to the bathroom, tip-toeing on the chilling tiles. Ghost moves to the exit, allowing you privacy in your vulnerable state, but your meek request makes him freeze on the spot. “can you... stay?” you sigh, “i’m scared of being alone right now.”

he pauses, not knowing how to answer, and you shift your weight from one leg to another, fingers fidgeting with the fluffy belt that holds your covering in place, regretting even asking for such a thing. “sure.” he clears his throat, taking a seat in the tiny wooden ottoman in the corner. the image is quite comical, the bulky man slowly leaning down to the stool as if one glance from him would crack the material, and a timid chuckle escapes your mouth.

his face turns to the side when you undo the knot of your robe and you feel the heat coming to your cheeks when you come to your senses. what the fuck did i ask? you’re bare, slipping into the warm water that was supposed to relieve your anxious mood, but that mainly swells your chest with embarrassment. 

you don’t know if you should be grateful that he’s not making a big deal of it, or sink in the tub due to the quiet – too quiet – atmosphere. Ghost is nothing but a gentleman at that moment, maintaining his head down and eyes away from your blurred naked body, so different from every man you’ve been near. they all seem to think that because you’re known, famous, whatever, you’re merely a doll on display for public use. it’s nice to not feel like an object.

after a long hour of letting the water purge your anguishes, you find yourself draped on a blanket on the sofa, sipping on a cup of chamomile tea that he, so heartily, prepared. he’s on the phone in the next room, and you don’t want to pry, but your ears unconsciously perk up to catch some of his words. he’s talking to someone named Price? something about a safe house? 

a few minutes later, he’s back, sitting on the coffee table in front of you. “so, we’re gonna move,” your brows raised, confused by his statement, “talked to an old friend and i got you a safe place, you can stay there as long as you need, the bastard won’t find you. and i’ll be there with you all the time, okay?” he’s gonna stay with me?

rationally, you know it’s a good idea. you don’t feel protected in your house anymore, and having him constantly by your side would probably give your heart a rest and unburden your shoulders. but moving is a big thing for a life so regulated. “Dan–” 

“i’ll talk to him tomorrow, don’t worry,” he assures, putting a hand on your knee and giving you a small smile. your vision was so hazy before that you didn’t even notice that he had his mask down, and you find yourself musing on the curve of his lips. 

“thank you, Ghost.”

[uneditedidiot]

gold rush - jamie tartt x reader

jamie tartt x gn!reader

summary: reader is the head physical therapist for AFC Richmond and ever since Jamie returned to the team and has proven himself a better man, you can’t help but harbor feelings for the pro footballer. Takes place during s3ep11. Based off these specific lyrics from the song ‘gold rush’ by Taylor Swift.

word count: 2.9k

Warnings: language - it’s jamie tartt, of course there’s language; declarations of undying love and a first kiss. :)

A/N: I used to write imagines back in like 2012 about One Direction so at least this is somewhat of a step up for me. But my first tumblr imagine so hopefully it’s not complete trash lol.

Part Two: this love is ours

But I don’t like a gold rush, gold rush

I don’t like anticipating my face in a red flush

I don’t like that anyone would die to feel your touch

Everybody wants you

Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you

You were kidding yourself. 

Jamie Tartt, the star of the team, the integral cog in Richmond’s new Total Football machine, the absolute adorable human – that’s who you were in love with? It was almost laughable. If you had told yourself two years ago that Jamie Tartt would be the object of your affection, you wouldn’t have believed a word of it. He had changed. He had changed immensely.

It was…embarrassing in a way. You weren’t embarrassed of him, but more of how you reacted when he was around. And fortunately (or quite unfortunately), he was around quite a bit. As the head physical therapist for the team, you saw most of the players quite often for some reason or another.

Of course, you had no problem interacting with others for their physical care. Sam Obisanya had somehow garnered an elbow injury from playing football as a kid and it had decided to continue to bother him throughout his adulthood. He’d usually stop everyday just to chat, if not work through some stretches for his arm. Jan Maas had a tendency to go down too hard on his left knee when running, so you saw him at least twice a week to lead him through some exercises. Dani Rojas, the sweet sweet man he was, would stop by your office every single morning just to say hello and to make sure his arch support inserts in his boots were fitting right. Colin and Isaac both seemed to suffer from the same achilles tendon strains but on opposite legs. You had no problem assessing their physical needs. You went on with your day like nothing happened.

But Jamie…he was a different story. Just making eye contact when he walked into your office made your cheeks go warm. And having to move his ankle around when you were assessing range of movement? Your entire face and neck would go pink. And that smile…that smile had you giggling and kicking your feet for the rest of the afternoon. 

The sass was another issue entirely. Boy, did that man have a MOUTH on him.

When you’d first started at Richmond with Ted and Beard, who’d brought you with them from the States, Jamie was an asswipe. Sometimes he’d barely acknowledge your presence when coming to get treatment. Other times he’d just sit in silence, his eyes following your every movement. At least twice he’d come in for medical help and he’d tried flirting with you. Back then, you’d had no interest in him at all.

It was when he returned that it was clear something in him had changed. You’d observed his new restraint he showed at training and on the field during matches. He was considerate of his teammates, passing them the ball more frequently and encouraging them on and off the field. Keeley had even said she hadn’t seen him with a new girl on his arm for a long while.

But ever since his return, he’d become more and more friendly with you. You’d grown to trust him completely. He was a true friend. Not only that, but the banter you two had was unmatched.

“Do you like the new tat?” he’d asked one day as you wrapped his ankle.

“What is it supposed to be?” you’d chuckled.

He looked almost offended. “It’s a rocketship.”

You’d stood, wrap in hand, attempting to hold back a laugh. 

He sighed. “Alright, go ahead. Tell me what you really think.”

“Jamie…it…it looks like…like a dick.”

“It does not look like a dick!”

“Yes it really does.”

“You’ve got vision problems.”

“No I don’t. You’ve got some issues if you think that’s a rocketship.”

“Well so do you if you think it looks like a fuckin’ dick!”

You finally let out the laughter you’d been holding in. You had scurried to the door, thrown it open, and yelled out. “Jamie Tartt had his own dick tattooed to his forearm!”

He’d immediately jumped off the medical table and wrapped his arms around you, attempting to pull you away from the open door. You’d held on to the frame, still laughing and yelling as he did so.

“Jamie has a dick tattoo! Jamie has a dick tattoo!”

He was laughing the whole time, screaming, “no I haven’t!” over you, trying to drown out your yells.

You’d found yourself falling. His eyes would gleam and twinkle in this way that was almost comforting. You’d have done anything to see the light in his eyes again after he’d left your office. It was almost intoxicating, but in a way that felt like home. And while your real home in the States was far away, the closer you’d grown to Jamie, the less you missed it.

It was terrifying. You knew what it would mean if you said something to him; or even admitted it to yourself, frankly. 

Jamie was a very well-known figure in the UK. He was a top footballer on a premier team that was making a huge comeback that season. He’d been on a popular reality dating television show (which, sure, he made an ass of himself on but it’s in the past) which had spread his name and face across screens that may not have tuned into the matches before. It obviously didn’t help that he was, in your opinion, one of the handsomest men you’d ever seen. 

And others clearly agreed with you. The amount of thirst tweets you’d seen online about him was quite overwhelming. So many people wanted to be the one for Jamie. To hold him, love him, do things to him that you’d never heard of before reading that tweet. They found his tendency to be a prick on the field very hot. And he kept it up, that’s for sure.

Not only that, he was splashed all over the tabloid headlines when Lust Conquers All was airing. Since then, he was a frequent face on front pages of any and all gossip websites. If you were official with him, the amount of hate you’d get, grainy and unflattering pictures online, and generally mean tweets from people who found Jamie hot would be like a tsunami and you weren’t sure how you’d feel about that. Granted, he’d actually have to agree to go out with you first and that seemed so impossible…

Despite his public persona, you knew his heart. And what a wonderful heart it was. He was kind, thoughtful, and empathetic. He was considerate and made sure to take care of others before himself. He was a firework in a dim sky.

And you hated him. You hated him for making you want to be with him. Everything he did sent a shock of love and loathing down every single vertebrae in your spine. It almost hurt.

It wasn’t until the team’s fated match against Manchester City in Manchester did you see a problem. And that problem was himself. Clearly he was not himself. The thought of his father showing up at the match was weighing heavily on his mind. His self-esteem was at an all-time low and the thought of facing his old team and their incredibly intense fanbase didn’t help, either.

You’d sat next to Roy with Keely on his other side during the showing of You’ve Got Mail. You could see just from Jamie’s body language that he wasn’t himself. 

You’d sighed as Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan confessed their undying love to each other on the big projection screen. Everyone around you had shed at least one tear, including Roy, but something in you felt numb to it. You had been too busy focusing on the rigid back-of-the-head of Jamie in the front row.

You’d watched in dismay as Jamie snuck out of the room, his hood pulled up over his head. You, Roy, and Keely had followed him all the way to mom’s house. You’d sat and had a delicious cookie made by Simon, his stepfather, and then toured his old childhood bedroom.

You sat on the small twin-sized bed, taking in everything around you. Jamie was the same now as he was as a kid – living and breathing football. The posters on the wall were mainly of famous footballers, including Roy, who had cursed at the sight of his old Chelsea portrait. Even Keeley had gasped when she saw the picture of herself topless with two footballs in front of her chest next to it.

Roy and Keeley flopped down next to you on the bed. They chatted for a moment as you stared off into space.

Everything you had been harboring for Jamie – every single emotion – seemed to hit you all at once. The situation at hand forced it all to the surface.

You loved Jamie Tartt.

It brought tears to your eyes. You sniffled, quickly wiping a hand to your cheek.

“What’s wrong, babes?” Keeley asked worriedly, putting a hand on your shoulder.

You shook your head. Like she’d believe that for a second.

“Come on, out with it,” Roy demanded. “You’ve been almost as fucking miserable as Jamie this past week.”

You inhaled sharply, winding your fingers together awkwardly. Your voice was soft, trembling. “I’m in love with Jamie.”

Keeley smiled at you, then shared a knowing look with Roy.

“We know,” she replied gently.

Your eyes widened, meeting her gaze. “You do?”

“Halle-fucking-lujah,” sighed Roy. “Finally.”

“What do you mean, ‘finally?’” you retorted.

“It’s not like it’s been a fucking secret,” Roy grunted. “It’s clear you love the little prick.”

“He doesn’t…he doesn’t love me back, does he?” It was almost like you had dared yourself to even ask. What if he didn’t? What kind of hurt would that be?

You had expected Keeley to hug you sympathetically or even sigh, but instead…she giggled. “Not to break my promise or anything.” She shrugged. “Yeah. Yeah, he loves you, too.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “Okay, don’t be mean. You don’t need to make things up just to keep me from feeling rejected, Keeley.”

“She wouldn’t tell you that if it wasn’t fucking true,” said Roy. “And I know we came here for Jamie to speak with his mum, but you’d hate yourself if you didn’t fucking say something to him.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Now?”

“Now.”

Keeley agreed. “Yep, I think it’s gotta be tonight, babes. It’s perfect timing. His mum will help him feel better and you both admitting you’re in love?” She squealed and jumped up. “It’s gotta be now!”

“But he’s my best friend,” you replied quietly. “I don’t want it to ruin things.”

“It won’t ruin anything,” Roy shook his head. “If it’s meant to be…it’s fucking meant to be. Not that it’s any of my business.”

“He’s had a crush since he got back to Richmond,” Keeley added. “I know it will work out. Trust us. He’s become a new person and he’s the exact right person for you. You’re perfect for each other. I’m going to be that friend and pressure you to do this.”

You stood, if not somewhat shakily, and nodded. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

“You got this!” Keeley called after you as you exited Jamie’s childhood bedroom. 

You made your way down the small hallway and the narrow staircase, the air lingering with the scent of fresh baked goods as you descended. You could hear hushed voices coming from the living room. You tried to take soft steps as you approached the door.

“I don’t know, Mum. The best thing to ever happen to me?”

“It sounds like you’re in love.”

“But I’m scared.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you listened.

“Love isn’t supposed to be a walk in the park, Jamie. It can be scary. To put yourself out there on the line. To be vulnerable. To risk getting your heart ripped out and thrown in the rubbish.”

“I’m risking my best friend.”

“But will you regret it if you don’t?”

There was a beat of silence.

“I would die unhappy if I couldn’t tell them how I feel.”

Your feet moved before your brain could catch up. And then you saw him from right inside the doorway. His eyes. The gleaming. The twinkling. The feeling of comfortability. Of home.

He stood without taking his eyes off yours. There was a slight smile playing around his mouth. His hands went into their usual position, clasped and pulling on the bottom hem of his sweatshirt. 

Georgie also stood, but she grinned and quickly moved out of the room, saying to her son on the way out, “it’s worth it, love.”

All you could do in the moment was stand there, cheeks going pink under his gaze. 

“Erm…did you see me old bedroom?” he said sheepishly, breaking eye contact for a moment.

The start of this conversation somehow seemed to bring you back to the realm of the living. You chuckled. “Yes, I was a massive fan of the old Roy Kent poster you had up. And you know, all the small pictures of butts with thongs and such.”

It was his turn to go red. “Yeah, well, what can I say? Teenage boy hormones.”

“I don’t think it’s just teenage boy hormones, Jamie. That’s just you liking butts.”

You both shared another laugh before it went quiet again.

Now was your chance. Keeley and Roy had said Jamie was at least interested in you, so you needed to say something.

“Um…so, I…I was, uh, talking to Keeley and Roy upstairs,” you began, taking a couple steps toward him.

“Is that what you were doing? Talking? I’d have thought you might be having a threesome.”

You laughed again as he smirked proudly at his comment. But his smile faltered as you seemed to go back to a state of self-conscious anxiety. Jamie’s heartbeat sped up. Usually you would’ve come back with another witty comment.

“What were ya talkin’ about?” he wondered seriously.

“I was just telling them about this…guy I’m interested in.”

The warmth in Jamie’s eyes slowly seemed to be dying like embers of a fire slowly burning down.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. And I was telling them a little about him.”

Jamie nodded, eyes cast down at the floor. He feigned interest. “And what’s he like, then?”

You remembered what Georgie had just told Jamie moments before. Love is scary, but it’s worth the risk.

You took another step closer to him, feeling more confident now. “He’s really sweet. He’s considerate and thoughtful and is willing to learn and grow.” 

Jamie nodded again, still half-heartedly listening.

“And he’s funny and makes the best jokes. He can laugh at himself and how dumb he used to be. Although I’d laugh at myself too if I were that much of a prick once. Even turned a whole plan around at Amsterdam once, the idiot.”

His eyes were now back on yours, mouth slightly open in disbelief. The grin seemed to spread over his lips as you continued talking.

“And he’s generous and willing to take care of others despite his own needs. He puts on quite the show at his job though. Oh my god, he can be a bit of a show off, but he’s actively working on it. He always seems to get this like weird ankle injury every once in a while, too. And don’t get me started on his dumb ass tattoos. There’s this one that he says is a rocketship but I SWEAR it’s a penis and –”

“I love you.” 

Your words are put on halt by the admittance that Jamie has just put out into the world forever.

He repeated himself with confidence. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Your declaration comes not a second after he’s spoken. And everything seems to spill out at once. “For months now. I’ve tried to hold it in, but I can’t any longer. You make me nervous, Jamie Tartt. You make me blush just by walking into the fucking room. I couldn’t stand touching you because it made my stupid fingers turn red. Your smile alone could light a thousand candles at once. Your laugh could be a grammy-award winning song. Everybody wants you, but you…you are my everything.”

All he says is your name. And then he closes the gap between you two.

His hands go to your waist, his lips find yours. Your arms wind around his neck, hands finding the base of his hairline, weaving your fingers through the strands. There is no space left between your bodies.

Your mouths move in sync, slowly and softly, with a passion you’d never experienced before.

His hand moves from your waist to cup your cheek, turning his head slightly to deepen the kiss. His other hand grasps the fabric of your t-shirt, clinging to you incessantly.

When you pull away for a second, he whispers your name in a way that sends starlight cascading through your very bones. 

“Jamie,” you whisper, “you’re my best friend and I love you and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

He smiles. “I think your timing is perfect. Just like you.”

You move to press your lips to his again when Simon calls out from the kitchen.

“Anybody want pie?”

Georgie makes a reappearance in the doorway. She shrieks in delight. “See, love? I told you! What did I tell you?”

She wrestles you away from Jamie and gives you the biggest and tightest hug of your life.

“Mum, you’re gonna squish ‘em!” Jamie protests good-naturedly, pulling back on your shoulder. He slings an arm around your waist, keeping you close.

You knew Jamie would be okay at tomorrow’s match even if his dad did show up. 

You loved each other. And that was all he needed.