#LOVVVVVEEEEEEEE

[just-some-random-blogger]

bajajisiaiIjKKkakkakKaiaooaiIiiksjnwjjwjhejjjewjjjhjejejuBSBSJJWJEJBSSBWUUWJWJAJJAJA BESTIIEEEEEEEEEEENDJJSJSJSJ JAW ON THE FLOOR HOUSTON IM DECEASED

WHE HAVE TO START WITH THE FACT I SAW THE TAGS AND

YOU SEE ALL THESE HEARTSSSSS RAHHHHHHHH GIVE THEM ALL TO ME NIAAAOWWWW ALL THE FILTTHHHH BOWWW

As you pass by the guests, one of them makes a move to grab you. The man, some lord from the Reach, is well on his cups and ready for the bedding ceremony to begin. He is quickly thrown back in his seat by a firm hand on his back.

HARWINNN 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 SAVE ME AHRWIN HELLPPOPOO BREAK HIS NECK

Who would dare, with Breakbones at your back?

GIVE HIM TO ME RHAENYRA HE BELONGS WITH MEEEE

[...] you like how you look in it. It is the first dress bought for you without Rhaenyra getting one too, so you wish to wear it a little longer.

😭😭😭💔💔💔💔 my love my baby girl

“I could say the same. I was nearly assaulted on my way out of the hall.” You complain, losing your smile. Had he been talking to Rhaenyra back then? You were unable to recall. It stung if he was. Your sister hadn’t even bothered to congratulate you, too busy gawking at Alicent’s green dress. Yet, she had taken the time to talk to your uncle? Unbelievable.

I WAS NEARLY ASSAULTED AND YOU WERE WITH MY SISTER

“Good thing you had your guard dog with you, then.”

THAT'S ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY

The knight has unusual patience at playing dolls with the children of the orphanage. You still enjoy playing dolls too, so you have a great time visiting. Daemon, though, wouldn’t be caught dead entertaining what he deems a childish pastime.

HARWIN >>>>>>>>>>>> DAEMON UGHHH

“Of that boy?” Daemon scoffs, though by the look in his face, you would guess he is, in fact, jealous. “There is nothing to be jealous about. He is guarding our door as we speak, and I am in here, with you.”

🤡Of👹tHaT🤪bOy😃 yeah. CLOCKED. But also.... Yeah... He also clocked her.

You and your twin were not the same, and Ser Harwin could tell.

YOU'RE TELLING ME THYRE TWINNS???? I THOUGT THEY WERE LIKE REALLY CLOSE IN AGE

“You confuse love with lust, riñītsos. It is what worries me.” He delicately lowers one of the sleeves of your wedding gown, exposing your shoulder. Daemon presses a kiss there, slow and soft. “Your knight lusts after Rhaenyra, not loves her.”

.............. I have nothing to say but uh.... He kinda right??????? Uh....... Ok

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Daemon scoffs, taking a step towards you. You take a step back. He chases you, cornering you until the cold surface of the mirror you had been admiring yourself in kisses your back. You glare angrily at him. How does he dare, to call you ridiculous? You are a princess of the realm. “Sullen little girl that you are, always with the pout. It drives me mad.”

SHES SO ME. I WOULD PROJECTILE CRY AT HIM WHAT DO YOU MEANNNNNNN 🍅🍅🍅🍅 FUCK YOU

“I do not pout, nor am I sullen.” You complain, sounding an utter brat even to your own ears.

But Daemon simply laughs and leans in, set on kissing your pout away. And he does.

💅💅💅💅 as he should NSJSJSJ BARKING

“Because you carved a space upon my very soul, you terrible child. And I tried so hard to spare you…”

[...] can feel phantoms of your touches when I touch myself, and I can imagine how sweetly your pretty little face will scrunch up when I fuck you…”

IN THE SAME BREATH IN THE SAME PARAGRAPH

“It is you who I want. Perhaps, had I wanted Rhaenyra, things would have been simpler.”

Rhaenyra would have been much easier to love. She would have needed less from him. But you. You, with your demands, and your need to feel special, to know Daemon would kill and die for you, in your name, for your banner, for your cause, even if you had none. Even if you were no one.

MUST YOU HURT ME THIS WAY JSKSKSKSKKS I... Ok tbh I don't remember what my initial reaction to this was Im far too daemon horny now fuck shit fuck

“No. And I enjoy complications.” Daemon kisses your collarbone, and then, above your heart. Slowly, he begins to kneel in front of you. “And contradictions. I wonder which one will you be tonight? The bold dragon rider? Or the soft little dreamer?”

WHAT IF I EAT HIM ALIVE IM 🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤😋😋😋😋🤪🤪🤪🤪🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦👅👅👅👅👅💓💓💓💓😫😫😫😫😫

“Right outside, as it befits tradition.” Daemon smirks. “Would you prefer to have him right here? Holding you open as I take the very last bit of innocence left in you?”

“Come.” Daemon says, getting up and laying down on the bed. He pats his lap, invitingly. “I thought wanting to ride a dragon was your thing.”

Nskskksks BARKING DIRECTLY AT IT THIS LIL SHIT I WANT HIM SO FUCKING BACK FUCKKK SHIT FUCK

“My back isn’t what it used to be, you terrible girl.” He spreads his legs, making a place for you between them. “Come.”

Equally that's not my problems but also KSKSKKSKSKKSSK BOUNCING ON YOU SO HARD

He gives your wedding gown a sharp tug, tearing the dozens of pearl buttons out of it. They clatter to the floor, sent in different directions. He wastes no time in getting you fully out of it.

YOU RUCKING RUINED NAY DESTROYED MY FUCKING DRESS DIE 🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪

“Yes.” Daemon agrees, taking off his shirt with a sharp tug, and making you forget all about how much you had loved the gown. “And that was my shirt.”

...oh

Mesmerized by the exposed skin, you straddle him and run your hands over his chest. He feels warm under your touch. When your palm brushes over his heart, you can feel it beating, faintly but hurriedly.

Your hand goes lower. His stomach is soft, his shoulders broad. Daemon doesn’t have the chiseled body of your sister’s guard, but he is still a warrior. His arms are strong and his waist trim.

I WANT HIM SO BAD I WANT HIM SO BAD

“Perhaps.” He concedes, with a sideways smile. He laughs when you tickle his ribs, curious about it. “Brat.”

🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦👅👅👅👅🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤪🤪🤪🤪🤪😋😋😋😋😋😋 NO CUZ I NEED HIM I NEED HIM I NEED HIM HES SO BRAT TAMER HER SO EVERYTHING I NEED

You hide your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in the mixture of smoke, wine, and something unmistakably Daemon. You wonder if he tastes the same as he smells, so you press an open-mouthed kiss to his neck, just as he had done to you.

😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃 ITS FINE IM FINE IM NOT JEALOUS AT ALL OF FUCKING LINES???? LINES??? WHO ME ACTUAL FLESH AND BLOOD???

You melt. There is no other word for it. You place your hand on his shoulder, and it is then, that you brazenly grab his member and spear yourself in it.

🧍‍♀️ uhm. See I wasn't jealous girl wtf was that

“You are done?” You ask, in disbelief. When Daemon doesn’t answer, and simply groans against you, you give him a shove. “You finished.”

🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 HAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAAHHHHAAHHAHH CRYING I WISH I COULD ADD A LAUGHING GIF BUT I ALREADY USED ALL OF MY IMAGES UP NOOOOOO

“You said this would be pleasing to me.”

🗣️YOU🗣️SAID🗣️THIS🗣️WOULD🗣️BE🗣️PLEASING🗣️TO🗣️ME🗣️ FUCKING 🗣️RAT🗣️

“Dirty, huh? Is that what you would call my seed and your maiden blood?” He swirls his fingers in the mixture, rubbing it against your pearl.

MSKSSKAKNSJSNS SNSSJJSKSKSKSKSKSM TWITCHING UNCONTROLLABLY

“Gods, you sound so sweet.” He says, taking his fingers out of your mouth. “My sweet niece, who would have thought? Sitting herself greedily on my cock as if it were her throne.”

Nskskskskks HEAD EMPTY NO THOUGHTS ONLY FUCK YOU AND FUCK ME

“Such a wanton little whore. You are desperate for your Kepa’s cock, aren’t you?”

🫨🫨🫨🫨🫨🫨 SHAKING UNCONTROLLABLY

Much to your consternation, he strips the bed and hands the bloody sheets to Ser Harwin. You cannot look the man in the eyes for the next three moons.

🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃 EKKSKSKSK WOOOWWW UHHHHH HUHHHHHHH WOOOOOOOOWWWWW OK

CRISTI this was stunnninggggg. Ughhhhh I wish I could do thissss but I can only do tormented spirit I miss being whimsical with it and fun I'm just so sad and tormented HHAHAHHAAHAHHAHAHA LOVE THIS SO MUCHHHHH YOU DONT EVEN KNOW

Staring back at you (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: You have married Daemon. Now, it is actually time to bed him. You find out you have a few more things in common with your uncle than you thought.

Warnings: PWP. Pure smut with a bit of jealousy thrown in. Vaginal sex, oral sex (F receiving) Daemon doing some nasty things with body fluids (Blood and semen)

A/N: Part 2 to Mirror, but can be read as a stand alone. Only thing you need to know is that reader is a Targaryen and now married to Daemon. Tagging: @just-some-random-blogger

When the feast is in full bloom, you slip away, unnoticed. Your father is too preoccupied with placating your sister, having been put in the unknown situation of feeling jealousy. Rhaenyra has attended two weddings this year, yet none have been her own.

You have never pegged her as one for marriage, but she might resent that despite being heir to the throne, you are the one marrying first. The thought makes you feel a hint of vindictive satisfaction.

You would feel more satisfied if you knew where your husband has run off to.

As you pass by the guests, one of them makes a move to grab you. The man, some lord from the Reach, is well on his cups and ready for the bedding ceremony to begin. He is quickly thrown back in his seat by a firm hand on his back.

Ser Harwin gives you a nod as you pass him. His message is clear. You can go. He has your back. You reach Daemon’s chambers without anyone stopping you. Who would dare, with Breakbones at your back?

You sit on his bed, idly noticing that all your things have been moved here already. There is a nightgown already laid in the bed, but you do not change. Your wedding gown is too complicated for it, and you like how you look in it. It is the first dress bought for you without Rhaenyra getting one too, so you wish to wear it a little longer.

Since you are admiring yourself in the mirror, you see through the reflection when Daemon enters the room. You give him a soft smile.

“I was wondering where you had run off to.” He hugs you from behind, pressing an affectionate kiss to your temple.

“I could say the same. I was nearly assaulted on my way out of the hall.” You complain, losing your smile. Had he been talking to Rhaenyra back then? You were unable to recall. It stung if he was. Your sister hadn’t even bothered to congratulate you, too busy gawking at Alicent’s green dress. Yet, she had taken the time to talk to your uncle? Unbelievable.

“Good thing you had your guard dog with you, then.” Daemon sounds just as disgruntled. He has never liked Ser Harwin much, though you do. The knight has unusual patience at playing dolls with the children of the orphanage. You still enjoy playing dolls too, so you have a great time visiting. Daemon, though, wouldn’t be caught dead entertaining what he deems a childish pastime. “If you wanted to avoid a bedding ceremony, you could have come to me.”

“Jealous?”

“Of that boy?” Daemon scoffs, though by the look in his face, you would guess he is, in fact, jealous. “There is nothing to be jealous about. He is guarding our door as we speak, and I am in here, with you.”

You twist in his arms. You brush his frown away, tenderly.

“Konīr iksis daorun naejot sagon jāelagon nūmāzma, Kepus. Issa isse jorrāelagon lēda Rhaenyra.” Because in your eyes, there is truly nothing to worry about. Ser Harwin has panted after Rhaenyra ever since he first saw her, covered in blood and entrails. You had spent that afternoon eating lemon cakes and fearful of bugs. You and your twin were not the same, and Ser Harwin could tell.

“You confuse love with lust, riñītsos. It is what worries me.” He delicately lowers one of the sleeves of your wedding gown, exposing your shoulder. Daemon presses a kiss there, slow and soft. “Your knight lusts after Rhaenyra, not loves her.”

“So you think he might want to bed me because we look alike?” You begin to scowl. “Is that it? Is that why you wanted me to wife? Because you could not have her?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Daemon scoffs, taking a step towards you. You take a step back. He chases you, cornering you until the cold surface of the mirror you had been admiring yourself in kisses your back. You glare angrily at him. How does he dare, to call you ridiculous? You are a princess of the realm. “Sullen little girl that you are, always with the pout. It drives me mad.”

“I do not pout, nor am I sullen.” You complain, sounding an utter brat even to your own ears. But Daemon simply laughs and leans in, set on kissing your pout away. And he does.

Daemon kisses you as if he seeks to devour you. His kisses have bite behind them, forcing you to open beneath him, turn pliant. You are no withering flower, though. You are a daughter of Old Valyria, fire and blood runs through your veins as much as his. So you bite back because just as Quicksilver had never once faltered before Balerion, nor will you before Daemon.

The two of you kiss until the mirror fogs up behind the two of you, until your blood is warm and singing for him. Until you are so dizzy with desire, you cannot even remember the reason you had been mad at him.

Daemon, though, doesn’t forget.

“I wed you because you are stuck inside my mind.” He says, as you part. You pant, knees weak, the mirror being the only thing keeping you upright. “Because you carved a space upon my very soul, you terrible child. And I tried so hard to spare you…”

You say nothing. Your uncle has never been a creature of raw, unbridled feelings. He is never honest with his emotions. It is too precious of an opportunity to let it pass, to interrupt with some ill-fated words. So instead, you let him speak.

Sometimes, it feels as if Daemon has a window to your very brain. He knows you better than you know yourself.

“When I look at you, it is not Rhaenyra I see. I see you, with your terrible temper, and the fierceness and boldness which you carry yourself… You are stuck on my mind, my body, my very heart. By the Seven, how I tried to spare you. To erase you. I am but a weak man, niece. I can feel phantoms of your touches when I touch myself, and I can imagine how sweetly your pretty little face will scrunch up when I fuck you…” His hands grasp your face, urgently. His eyes, shockingly purple, meet yours. “It is you who I want. Perhaps, had I wanted Rhaenyra, things would have been simpler.”

Simpler. A clandestine liaison, like the ones she has with her knight. A passing connection and nothing more. You can imagine it, the two of them together. Without the need for him running off to the Vale, for the mysterious accident his wife had suffered, the one you had not dared ask about, for it had been timed most coincidentally after your kiss in the brothel. Nor the need for good behaviors, for convincing your father to let him wed you.

Rhaenyra would have been much easier to love. She would have needed less from him. But you. You, with your demands, and your need to feel special, to know Daemon would kill and die for you, in your name, for your banner, for your cause, even if you had none. Even if you were no one.

“Simpler it’s not always better.” You muse, quietly. Does he regret it, you wonder? Having to sacrifice nearly everything for this?

“No. And I enjoy complications.” Daemon kisses your collarbone, and then, above your heart. Slowly, he begins to kneel in front of you. “And contradictions. I wonder which one will you be tonight? The bold dragon rider? Or the soft little dreamer?”

“I do not have a dragon nor do I walk between realms.”

“You do now.” Daemon opens the bodice of your gown. His other hand palms his hardening cock. You watch, mesmerized. “Care to ride a dragon?” He asks, innuendo plain as day.

“You said Ser Harwin was…” You try to sound scandalized, but the mere thought is making you wet.

“Right outside, as it befits tradition.” Daemon smirks. “Would you prefer to have him right here? Holding you open as I take the very last bit of innocence left in you?”

This time, you truly are scandalized.

“Kepus!”

“Not to your liking? Oh, well. I suppose he will just have to listen from the door.” Daemon raises his voice. “Perhaps that boy will finally learn how to please a woman.”

You hear movement against the wall and then silence. Mortified, you do not even dare breathe.

“Come.” Daemon says, getting up and laying down on the bed. He pats his lap, invitingly. “I thought wanting to ride a dragon was your thing.”

“Uncle…” You warn. You make no move to approach him. Your mind is still with Ser Harwin, and the terrible thought that you will need to face him tomorrow. Daemon could have at least told you about his thoughts in High Valyrian, a language that the knight would surely not understand. Instead, he had to loudly proclaim it all.

Daemon sighs, as if your fussing is a terrible bother, and sits up again.

“My back isn’t what it used to be, you terrible girl.” He spreads his legs, making a place for you between them. “Come.”

“As if you were so old.” You complain, but obey him regardless. Despite being fairly active, Daemon is still older than you.

“Not all of us can be maidens in the bloom of youth.” He grasps you by the hips and pulls you even closer, until your chest brushes against his. “Let’s get rid of this pesky garment.”

He gives your wedding gown a sharp tug, tearing the dozens of pearl buttons out of it. They clatter to the floor, sent in different directions. He wastes no time in getting you fully out of it.

“That was my dress!” You say, your outrage outweighing your nervousness about being left only in a thin shift. You are a Targaryen Princess, after all. You have nothing to be ashamed of.

“Yes.” Daemon agrees, taking off his shirt with a sharp tug, and making you forget all about how much you had loved the gown. “And that was my shirt.”

Mesmerized by the exposed skin, you straddle him and run your hands over his chest. He feels warm under your touch. When your palm brushes over his heart, you can feel it beating, faintly but hurriedly.

Your hand goes lower. His stomach is soft, his shoulders broad. Daemon doesn’t have the chiseled body of your sister’s guard, but he is still a warrior. His arms are strong and his waist trim.

You like his softness, you decide. Your uncle has always been a figure larger than life to you, this rogue out of a storybook. This makes him more human. More real.

Daemon lets you explore to your heart content. He jerks slightly as you brush his stomach, muscles twitching under your touch.

“Tickles?” You ask him, voice soft. His hands caress your sides, lulling you into relaxation without distracting you.

“Perhaps.” He concedes, with a sideways smile. He laughs when you tickle his ribs, curious about it. “Brat.”

You laugh. Your hand continues to move, lower and lower. Down the path traced by white, almost silver hair, and towards the edge of his breeches. Daemon’s body tenses, stomach going taut. But when you reach the first lace, you lose your nerve.

You hide your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in the mixture of smoke, wine, and something unmistakably Daemon. You wonder if he tastes the same as he smells, so you press an open-mouthed kiss to his neck, just as he had done to you.

The effect is immediate. Daemon gasps, and his hands tighten around your hips. His cock, now feeling more like a hard rod, brushes the place between your legs, making you throb with arousal.

Under your lips, he tastes like salt and smoke. You bite, and you bite hard, set on placing your mark of ownership on your very own dragon. You do not stop until you taste iron, and he lets out a choked moan.

“Little beast.” Daemon scolds, but his words lack any real heat. Interestingly, his cock only gets harder.

“Not a beast. Zaldrīzes.” You complain.

“Zaldrītsos.” He settles on, and you pout. He can probably feel it against his skin because his shoulders shake with barely contained laughter. “Off.” He grabs the edge of your shift and pulls it from you, forcing you away from your hiding place.

This time, you cannot hide your nervousness. Daemon doesn’t allow you to hide again, his hand cradling your jaw. When you shyly lower your eyes, he pulls you even closer, until your foreheads touch.

“Avy jorrāelan.” He whispers, unbearably soft. It isn’t, of course, the first time he says it. It is the first time he forces you to maintain eye contact with him while he tells you he loves you. “Ao se nyke issi keskydoso.”

You have never needed to hear the words, but it pleases you regardless. His love shows through his actions, and you have often thought the two of you are the same, but hearing it feels different. Like it is no longer a secret you have to cradle close to your chest, protect it from the rest of your family. Like it is something you can live, and not only dream.

“Zaldrīzoti?” You scoff, as if it were obvious.

“Like the Conqueror and Rhaenys.” He taps the place over your heart. “Two hearts. One soul.”

You melt. There is no other word for it. You place your hand on his shoulder, and it is then, that you brazenly grab his member and spear yourself in it.

Daemon groans, body going as taut as a bow with the effort of not thrusting into your warm heat. You, instead, shriek. It hadn’t been one of your wisest ideas. His cock feels as if it is in your throat and the breaking of your maidenhead had felt like getting punched.

“Seven hells, why did you..?” He asks you, rubbing your back as you whimper. You begin to roll your hips into tight little circles, trying to ease the pain. “Wanton thing.”

“Fucking hells.” The circles do help with the pain, much like jumping in one foot does when you stub your toe. But there is something else there too, a spark of pleasure building as you grind yourself back and forth on his cock.

“I was going to open you up.” Daemon brushes a stray tear away from your cheek. “Damn you, and your stubbornness. Virgin cunts aren’t meant to just… Fuck, you just… That’s it. Fuck yourself on my cock.”

He seems to have no words to explain it. Considering how it had felt like being punched in the gut, you think he may be right.

“Could you help instead of scolding me?” You whine. Daemon’s brows pinch together, as if he were trying to control himself. There seems to be something about you, pulsing maddeningly around his cock, face covered in tears and looking wrecked, that does it for him because he gives in without any fight.

His hands steady your hips once again. Instead of holding you still as he had done before, he aids you rock back and forth, until you are no longer hurting, but aching to be filled.

His pace increases. His hands come to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing your nipples and making you shiver. Daemon encourages you to bounce on his cock, until the inside of your thighs ache, and you feel like you are nearing a glorious peak of your pleasure.

Yet when you are so close to it you can even taste it, Daemon pulls you closer, and curses, muffling his moans on your shoulder. He shudders, and you feel a sudden warmth inside of you. And then, he dares go still.

“You are done?” You ask, in disbelief. When Daemon doesn’t answer, and simply groans against you, you give him a shove. “You finished.”

“Can you blame me?” Daemon mutters, voice sleepy. You can feel his eyelids fluttering shut against your skin.

You slap his arm, hard.

“You said this would be pleasing to me.”

“You utter brat.” He scolds, rolling you over until you lay down on the bed. He gives you a smack on the ass.

Unused to any harsh treatment, considering you are a princess, you let out a yowl.

“You dared to hit me!”

“Don’t pout so much, less your knight comes barging in.” Daemon grabs a pillow. “I’ll give you yours. Hips up.”

The reminder of Ser Harwin, probably still guarding the door, makes you feel embarrassed enough not to protest. It fails to keep you pliant when Daemon dares to lick your cunt.

“What are you doing?” You shriek. “I’m dirty there. Stop it.”

Daemon lets out a laugh.

“Dirty, huh? Is that what you would call my seed and your maiden blood?” He swirls his fingers in the mixture, rubbing it against your pearl.

“It’s…” You cannot keep talking because he has shoved the very same fingers inside your mouth. The taste of his seed is bitter and overpowering on your tongue. You let out a garbled protest that only serves to make him laugh further.

With you properly silenced, he begins to press open-mouthed kisses to your cunt. You cover your face with your hands, embarrassed by the sounds your uncle is making. You can hear how wet you are, and how Daemon is drinking all of it.

Most of all, you can hear the noises you are letting out. Desperate little sounds, garbled around Daemon’s fingers.

“Gods, you sound so sweet.” He says, taking his fingers out of your mouth. “My sweet niece, who would have thought? Sitting herself greedily on my cock as if it were her throne.”

“Shut up.” You mutter, weakly. But his talented hands seem to be everywhere, rubbing at your pearl, curling against a patch inside of you that makes you see stars. Pleasure is licking at the base of your spine, making your thighs quiver, your stomach tremble.

“Such a wanton little whore. You are desperate for your Kepa’s cock, aren’t you?”

You mutter something in High Valyrian. Most likely a curse. You feel like words evade you, slipping between your fingers as if they were made of sand. Your thoughts feel hazy, almost liquid.

“Shh, you poor thing. Your Kepa will take care of you.” And with those ominous words, he wraps his lips around your pearl and sucks hard. Hard enough that the pleasure building in your body reaches a peak so hard, you feel like you will shatter.

It's not pretty. You grunt, and you trash, and by the end of it, your legs shake, and you are a sweaty mess left limp in the sheets. Daemon kisses your cunt through it all, until it begins to feel too much, and you have to shove his head away.

“Satisfied now?” He asks you, laying next to you and holding you close. You feel so terribly boneless, you can’t even acknowledge him. Daemon presses a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Much to your consternation, he strips the bed and hands the bloody sheets to Ser Harwin. You cannot look the man in the eyes for the next three moons.

[racketballz]

K if you don’t have a fave scooby d character… do you have a fave era of SD? Like the first cartoon from the 60s? Live action movie etc?

My favorite is 90s early 00s movies since I grew up with those I also lOVVVVVEEEEEEEE the mystery inc era and ofc the live action movies are my favorite movies of all time

[tuancore]

🐑 Love you so very much. -hugs tightly-

Awwee I Lovvvvveeeeeeee you soooooo veeryyyyyyyyy much!!!!! -hugs back tightly- 😍😍😍😍😍

[leopuzzy]

In lovvvvveeeeeeee

[laurfilijames]

Dude. I am SO HAPPY RIGHT NOW.

This was AWESOME!!!!!

I have been so excited for this fic since you first started talking to me about it and YOU DID NOT DISAPPOINT!!!!

Everything about it is pure GOLD.

I lovvvvveeeeeeee reader's friendship with everyone, but specifically with Michele and Stacey. Thank you for making Michele a good friend and not a stone-cold bitch. She still had her snarky remarks when needed, but this read so well to her sweeter, more human side that we got to see glimpses of in the show.

And I'll agree with everyone else who has said this so far: this read as, and totally could've been, a scene from the show. Your dialogue is always spot on between all the TAJ characters, but I feel in this story specifically it was like, just so fucking perfect.

I don't understand how my fic inspired you, because after reading this I don't know how I could ever match the expertise in knowing these characters.

All of the descriptions of our favourite god floored me; but this one especially made me all

His bright laugh won you over, however, and you couldn’t help but smile when you looked up to see his eyes wrinkled and his dimples in full view.

The confession had me biting my nails with anxiety and nerves on behalf of both of them and I cannot wait to see what happens next!!

I feel for her- being so in love and believing it won't work out, it's so painfully tragic and relatable and I felt that ache when I read this

How could he know that finally voicing your feelings to Michele and Stacey had made them impossible to ignore; a dam that had secretly burst.💔💔💔

Having to listen to him talk about his hook ups would be complete torture and I don't blame her for avoiding it.

God I honestly feel like I could keep going on about this because I just love it so much!! Thank you for giving us such an incredible story to read. 💗💗💗

Pretend to Be Nice - 1 - Oh No

For the @deanobingo 2023 event!

Prompts: Anders Johnson - Honesty The Almighty Johnsons - Anders & female Reader 4619 words

Summary: You are secretly in love with your friend, Anders Johnson. When your other friends find out, they encourage you to let it go.

CW: Alcohol consumption, discussion of hookups (mild). Angsty? Slow burn I guess? (This is a multi-part story.)

You stood in the kitchen of Michele’s house, topping pieces of baguette with various things while music filtered in from the living room. 

The gods and goddesses surrounding the Johnson family had gotten into the habit of weekend parties, and you were having a quiet moment inside while the crowd was in the yard, enjoying the summer weather.

Anders sauntered in through the back door and flashed you a smile as he looked you over.

“There she is.” “Here I am.”

He walked up to you and leaned in as though to tell a secret as he pinched at the fabric of your dress. “This thing is dreadful. Bin it.”

“Oh? What would you have me wear then, my lord?” you asked sarcastically. 

It wasn’t completely out of the norm for Anders to tell you whether or not he approved of your fashion, but this might have been the harshest he’d been to something you were actively wearing.

Still, it seemed mostly light-hearted.

He was grinning back at you, his blond hair aglow in the late afternoon sun shining through the window behind him, looking every bit like the piss-taking god he was.

“Well if we’re talking druthers, I’d prefer you without, but I think killjoy Mikkel would complain.”

You rolled your eyes. “Ha ha.”

Anders snickered to himself and ate one of the appetizers you were still preparing, earning him a brief dirty look from you which only served to make his dimples more prominent. 

He could tell he was pushing your buttons, but you always indulged his mischief, so he figured you’d forgive him.

He gestured to the chilly bin. “Can I get you a drink?”

“I dunno. Last time I drank with you, you left me alone at the bar.”

“Hey, you left me.” He pointed, recalling your night out together the week before. “I went to the bog for a quick pash and when I came back you and Axl had gone home.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You have a skewed sense of quick.”

He shrugged, unapologetic. “What can I say? I’m a generous god.”

You snorted, and he let out a humming giggle in reply as he pulled two beers from the bin. He opened the first one and placed it on the counter beside your handiwork before opening his own.

“So how’d you end up on food duty when there’s a perfectly good handmaiden present?” “You’d best hope she doesn’t hear you talking like that.”

He grinned as he sipped his drink.

“I’ll take my chances.” “Brave man.”

He gave you another lookover and winced. “Seriously, you look like an old woman in that frock.”

You raised your brows in offense. “Understood, Bragi. I shan't damage your eyes with it again.”

Sensing that you were taking it personally, he tilted his head and added lightly, “I liked that purple one you wore to Ty’s.”

You snickered, knowing which - revealing - dress he meant. “Wonder why that might be.” “Just saying, you should play to your assets.” “My ass-ets?”

Anders wagged his eyebrows, turning to stick his own ass out as he gestured at his chest to imply large breasts.

You shook your head and went back to your task. “Always so charming.”

His bright laugh won you over, however, and you couldn’t help but smile when you looked up to see his eyes wrinkled and his dimples in full view.

He caught sight of Michele and Stacey walking over and winked at you, as though to keep his previous comment a secret.

“Need help?” Stacey offered.

Anders snickered, but turned away to sip at his beer in an attempt to hide it. You threw him a warning glance despite your own amusement, then offered Stacey a warm and genuine smile. “I’d love that, ta.”

Michele hummed and leaned against the counter, giving Anders a lookover as Stacey started helping you. “It’s not like Anders is of any use.”

“I don’t see you cooking,” he retorted.

She shrugged. “I’m not very domestic. My talents lie elsewhere.”

He nodded, his eyes training over her form. “I’m sure they do.”

Olaf stepped in the back door. “Ah, sustenance!”

Before anyone could stop him, he nabbed a couple of the completed appetizers off the plate.

“Leave some for the rest of us, eh?” Anders teased.

Stacey shooed Olaf away. “Get out, both of you. We’ll take them outside when they’re done.”

When Olaf began to protest, Anders put his hand on his back to steer him toward the door. “C’mon Grandpa, let’s let the women do their work.”

“Like it’s the role of goddesses to feed useless gods?” Michele challenged.

“Well not you, obviously; we don’t want to be poisoned,” Anders called behind him as he exited.

Michele flipped him the bird, though he didn’t see, then turned to you and shook her head. “Dick.”

You laughed under your breath and got back to work.

--

Later on, you found yourself standing with Anders outside, talking about plans.

“Axl and I are gonna hit up that new club on Fort Lane tomorrow night. You should come with.” “So I can keep Odin company while you get your end away?” He grinned. “We can trade off.”

You grimaced, then looked away, playing it off. “Yeah, nah. I’m not up for it.” “What?” Anders nudged you playfully. “You always come.” You shook your head. “Mm. Not this time.” “Oh, is it that time of the month?”

You smacked his arm. “No! God.”

He let out a humming laugh at your reaction. “Then what’s your problem?”

“I just…” You rubbed your arm and looked away again, shrinking somewhat into yourself. “I just don’t feel like hooking up with anyone right now. That’s all.”

“You should hit him harder,” Michele suggested, walking up with a glass of wine in hand.

You snorted as she and Stacey joined you.

Anders scrunched his face up in mild offense. “All I did was invite you out. Usually you’re keen on it.”

“Finally get sick of babysitting the Johnsons?” Michele wondered. “You’d know all about that, eh?” Anders challenged.

You shrugged, wanting the topic dropped now that there were more people involved. “I’m just not up for it.”

Anders pointed, squinting his eyes at you playfully. “Or maybe you’ve got some boy toy on the side you haven’t told us about.” He fingered the fabric of your dress again. “Would explain your sudden off-putting attire.”

“Anders, couldn’t you just pretend to be nice?”

He clucked and winked at you. “Nah, I respect you too much to be dishonest.”

You snickered as Stacey rolled her eyes.

“Oh please.” Michele crossed her arms. “As if you have any idea how to respect goddesses.”

Anders placed his hand on your shoulder. “Just the ones I like.”

“The ones who put up with your crap, you mean.” “The ones who aren’t frigid bitches? Always a pleasure, Michele.”

He turned to you then, pointedly ignoring her and squeezed your shoulder a couple times. He flashed a crooked, conspiratorial grin, his tone coaxing. “We’re gonna have fun…”

“I’m sure you will.”

He clucked again, but gave you a wink as he started walking off. “Change your mind, you know how to reach us.”

Michele watched him walk off, then turned to you with a raised brow. “I don’t know how you can stand going out with him.”

You shrugged defensively. “It is usually fun. And he usually pays for my drinks.”

“You don’t need a wanker god buying your drinks.”

“Well I don’t need a mum telling me who to hang out with either. Besides, it’s good for Axl to have someone a little less…” You glanced towards where he was now joining up with Olaf to partake in a joint. “-Anders with him.”

Stacey and Michele both laughed. “That is true.”

--

A while later, Stacey leaned over toward where you were sitting against the back wall of the yard.

“Alright, so spill.” You looked over at her with raised brows. “Spill what?”

“Why don’t you want to go out with the boys? Was Anders right? You’ve got your eye on someone?”

“Oh.” You took a swig of your beer. “Yes and no. It’s- not going to happen.” You laughed under your breath and shook your head.

“No way, you’re a catch,” Stacey argued, pushing your shoulder playfully. “And Anders can totally talk any mortal into bed with you.”

You snorted. “Yeah, that’s not the issue. I’m sure he’d be down for a root, but that’s not-” You shook your head again. “I don’t want that.”

Stacey’s teasing air faded and her voice turned soft. “You really like this guy, eh?”

You shrugged, but nodded. “Mm.”

“So what’s the deal? Is he, like, married or something?”

“Nah.” You shook your head and took another deep drink of your beer.

Michele walked over and sat down facing you both. “What are you two plotting without me?” “Nothing.” “She’s fallen for some guy.” “Oh? Who’s the lucky mortal?” “Not that lucky. She hasn’t made a move.” “Oh, no. That’s pathetic. You need a little Sjofn push?”

“No!” you said a bit too panicked, putting your empty hand up. “Definitely not. I’m just going to swallow it down until it goes away.”

Stacey laughed, but Michele narrowed her eyes. “Why?” “Because it’s just never going to work out.” “You don’t know that.” “I’m serious. If I told you who it was, you’d laugh at me.”

“No way!” Stacey insisted. Michele crossed her heart, confident she could get you to tell her. “Goddess’s oath.” 

You contemplated it, looking around. You seemed to be alone in the yard, and the music from inside the house was loud enough that talking quietly should make it impossible for anyone to overhear you.

“You can’t tell anyone.” “Promise.” “Absolutely.” “Not even Ingrid. She’ll mean to keep it quiet and then tell Colin or one of the Johnsons by accident or something.”

They laughed but nodded in agreement.

You let out a quiet groan. This is probably a mistake.

“It’s…” You leaned closer and whispered. “Anders.”

Stacey nearly choked, laughing incredulously before falling into a coughing fit.

Michele just stared at you in alarm for a beat that faded to pity. “Oh, no.”

You huffed and rolled your eyes. “I know. I know. Hence nothing coming of it.” You got up and walked away before they could tell you any of the countless reasons it was never going to work out for you. You’d already agonized over them yourself plenty. 

Sure, you could probably talk him into a root or two, but you’d only end up upset and hurt when he didn’t want more from you.

Anders did not have partners; he had notches in his bedpost, and that was it. There was no point making things awkward for everyone by trying to change that and becoming a bitter ex. 

--

A week later, you were back at Michele’s for another god-party, arriving late after debating whether to come at all. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be around them, but you knew that Stacey and Michele would be judging your interactions with Anders now, and you knew that he was probably going to talk about his exploits - which shouldn’t hurt your feelings, even though they did.

Eventually the barrage of texts - from your goddess friends as well as Anders and Axl - had convinced you that you should just suck it up and attend. The more you acted out of the norm, the more they would question why, and Michele or Stacey might let it slip.

Your two goddess friends spotted you the moment you arrived, and before you could stop them, you found yourself whisked into a bedroom to be stared down.

“Finally!” Michele crossed her arms. “Is this really about Bragi?”

You wrapped your own arms around yourself as your shoulders raised defensively. “Look, I’m here now, okay?”

“You need to get over him.” “She’s right, it’s for the best.” “I’m not trying to be under him! I can’t help how I feel-”

“Yes, you can,” Michele argued. “Stop playing along with his bullshit, and letting him treat you like the wanker-wingman he’s trying to turn sweet Axl into.”

You looked up and sighed. “So, what, just stop being friends with him?”

“Absolutely.” “I can’t do that. He hasn’t done anything wrong.” “Except be himself,” Stacey muttered.

You winced. “I like Anders. He’s funny, and smart, and he’s nice to me.” Michele raised a brow.

“He is!” You shifted, breaking eye contact. “In his own way.”

Michele softened, realizing that arguing with you about the subject of your crush might not be the most efficient route to solving this problem.

“And yet, boyfriend material he is not. So swallow down the butterflies, have a few meaningless roots, and for the love of Asgard, move on.”

You shrugged, pouting. “Yeah, that’s… more or less the plan.”

Michele wrapped an arm around your shoulders to lead you back out into the party. “Perfect.”

--

Michele and Stacey hovered around you for a good while, but eventually Michele went off to find Mike, while Stacey helped Ingrid to not destroy the food that she was trying to make for everyone.

You found yourself standing alone in the backyard, staring up at the sunset painting the clouds in warm hues. The soft blue that was fading from the sky suddenly reminded you of Anders’s eyes, and you felt a twist in your gut.

It wasn’t fair, you thought, to be so close to the man - indeed, a common companion on pub crawls and confidante of drunken exploit reports after his trysts - and yet unable to cross that invisible barrier.

Maybe he would be down for a root; it was Anders, after all. The problem with that was you; too much of a romantic to be satisfied by a bit of fun, you knew you’d feel lower than dirt to see him bedding mortals again after having his way with you. Being a meaningless root would be worse than being his undesirable friend.

“Ah, here she is. The cause of my sexual frustration.”

Anders’s voice caught you off-guard as much as his comment, and you raised a brow as he stepped up from behind you. You felt a flutter of anxiety, but played it cool.

“Excuse me?”

He placed his hand on your shoulder and leaned in close. “Went out with Axl as planned, but since you weren’t there, I wasn’t able to have any fun. Could have taken this fit blonde to the bog but Ax’ was getting into trouble without your supervision.”

You shut your eyes and pursed your lips, swallowing down the feelings of rejection that were rising like bile in your throat.

“And I’m sure that’s stopped you from Bragi-ing anyone else to bed since, eh?”

Anders laughed brightly. “Well, no. Of course not.” He gave you a glancing look-over. “Nice dress, by the way. Much better than the last one- But come with us next time. It wasn’t as fun without you there.”

You rolled your eyes. “To keep Axl company?”

“And me? And to have fun? Why are you being so weird about it? You usually like coming out with us.”

Anders hadn’t missed the offense in your voice, but he meant what he was saying; he just had a better time with you there.

Which is why he’d texted you multiple times trying to coax you to join them that night; why he’d been bothered by your lack of response.

He shook the beer he was trying to give you enticingly.

“Pass.” You took the bottle from him, but turned and walked off, feeling irritated that he really had no idea how you felt.

No, it’s my fault…

How would he possibly know, after months of following him and his baby bro to the bar, watching him take chick after chick home (or to some dark corner), that you didn’t want to hear about his sex life?

How could he know that finally voicing your feelings to Michele and Stacey had made them impossible to ignore; a dam that had secretly burst.

It wasn’t fair to treat him differently as a result, but you had to somehow. You simply couldn’t stomach it no matter how much you wanted to be around him.

Ugh… Michele is right.

He caught up to you before you could make it inside, blocking your path.

“What’s your problem?” “Sorry?” “Is there something the matter?”

You took a defensive step back. “What would be the matter?”

His nostrils flared, his voice low with irritation. “I don’t know, you’re the one suddenly too good to go out with us.”

You scoffed and tilted your head. “I never said that.”

“Then stop being so fucking weird-” “Stop asking me to babysit your brother so you can fuck every blonde in Auckland!” “Okay, fine!”

You could read the confusion and offense in Anders’s expression even as he took a step back.

“But just so you know, you’re starting to act a lot like your friend Michele.”

You knew what he meant, but you couldn’t help the offense you felt at him implying that was a bad thing. She was your friend, after all.

“So what if I am?” “Kinda prefer you acting like you?” “Oh- well- let me just change my personality to suit your taste then! Just like my wardrobe.”

Anders frowned. You’re offended by that now, too?

“Why don’t you go boss around a mortal?”

You saw the subtle twitch of his cheek as he clenched his jaw, his eyes searching yours.

He didn’t get where this sudden disdain was coming from. You’d never been so pissy with him, and never about him using his powers.

You felt your heart in your throat, anticipating some biting retort as he glared at you, but instead he suddenly turned and stormed off, leaving you alone outside again.

--

Anders stalked through the party until he found his brothers standing around chatting.

He threw himself into the conversation, acting aloof and lighthearted despite his mind being distracted by your odd behaviour.

He’d assumed you declining the invite last week had been a one-off, but now it seemed like the mere idea of going out with him and Axl - a longtime regular occurrence - was entirely bothersome to you.

He wondered if it had to do with your little goddess friends giving you shit; he knew they didn’t like him much. Or maybe you really did have some beau you’d neglected to mention. Neither option sat particularly well with him.

The light-hearted conversation was interrupted by the sound of a smoke alarm going off in the kitchen.

“Shit-”

Mike and Ty immediately ran toward it, even as Stacey started shouting that everything was fine - ‘just a little cooking mishap’ - over Ingrid’s apologies.

Anders laughed at the chaos and looked up at Axl. “Hey, while I’m thinking of it-” He leaned in close to ask Axl if he knew what was going on with you.

“What d’you mean?” “She doesn’t want to come out with us all of a sudden.”

“Really?” Axl cocked his head in surprise. He hadn’t truly questioned you not being there last time, but now that he thought about it, Anders did usually drag you out with them.

“When I asked her why not, she acted… fucking, weird, I dunno.” He sipped his beer. “Pissed off at me, but I can’t suss out why.” He glanced up at Axl. “Thought maybe you knew something I’d missed.”

“Nah, she seemed fine last we talked, but…” “But?” “Well… You can be kind of a dick, even if you don’t mean it.”

Anders scoffed, an insulted grin on his face as he briefly tucked his bottom lip into his mouth. “Love the vote of confidence from the baby bro.”

“Nah, just- you know how chicks are. You probably- didn’t even realize, or- didn’t mean it however she took it, you know? Just say you’re sorry, I bet she’ll forget all about it.”

Anders pursed his lips. He wasn’t exactly a stranger to upsetting people, though he couldn’t think of what he’d done this time. He was used to being himself around you - blunt and teasing - and you’d never gotten upset with him about it before.

In fact, that was part of why he liked hanging around you over the other gods and goddesses.

He had fun getting you to laugh despite yourself at the inappropriate things he said. You always took things the way he meant them, and you always seemed happy to see him. You never made him feel like he was some monster for using his power, or wanting to root. 

So then, whatever he’d done to upset you, it must have been pretty bad.

Maybe Axl was right that he just needed to apologize. Still, he wasn’t the sort to apologize without meaning it, or knowing what he was supposed to be sorry for. He was going to have to ask you what was going on, which he’d already tried with poor results.

“Goddesses,” he muttered in annoyance, resigning himself to having to talk to you about it.

“Chur.” Axl let out a small laugh and clinked his bottle against Anders’s.

--

You stayed outside while the fire alarm chaos went on, sitting at the edge of Michele’s pool to kick your legs in the water. 

You’d come out at their insistence, but all you wanted now was to go home. I’m not even in there anyway.

Once the commotion seemed to die down, you dried off using one of the towels Olaf had left out and slipped your shoes back on.

You found Stacey and Michele pouring themselves glasses of wine in the now-empty kitchen and gestured for them to follow you into Michele’s bedroom. 

With the door shut for privacy, you let out a defeated huff.

“Right. I’m gonna head out.” “No, stay,” Stacey whined. “No, I’ve made enough of an ass of myself for one night.”

Michele frowned. “Meaning?”

“I’m pretty sure Anders hates me now.”

Michele and Stacey answered over top of each other. “Well that’s no issue-” “I’m sure he doesn’t-”

You winced and let out a groan.

Stacey’s tone was full of concern. “What happened?”

“I was pathetic.” You held one hand to your forehead. “I got cross with him for no reason.”

“That’s not possible,” Michele muttered, rolling her eyes. If you were cross with Anders, it was probably justified.

“It’s not his fault that I fancy him and he doesn’t fancy me. And it’s childish to get hurt by it. I just need to…” You sighed and gestured half-heartedly. “Get over it somehow. It’s pointless.”

“True.” Michele nodded. “I could help you find a man for the night?”

“No, I just want to go home and sleep. Ta.”

Stacey patted your head, then pulled you into a hug while Michele shrugged.

--

Anders spotted Stacey and Michele coming into the living room after seeing you off, and he stepped over with a raised chin to ask where you were.

“She just left,” Stacey replied without hesitation, thumb pointing toward the door.

Michele elbowed her, but before she could say anything to Anders, he was already heading for the exit.

“Way to go, Stace,” she hissed.

--

Anders caught up to you just as you were about to get in your car.

“Hey!”

You raised your shoulders and sucked in a breath as you turned to face him. “What’s up?”

“You don’t say goodbye anymore?”

It was true that you normally made a point to do a goodbye lap at god gatherings, but you hadn’t been up for it tonight.

You shrugged. “Bye.”

“No- wait.” Anders put his hands on his hips and licked his lips. “Clearly there’s something going on.”

“No, nothing,” you lied.

“Look I know I’m a prick, but I am actually capable of behaving when I need to. Whatever I’ve done to upset you, if you just tell me, I’ll stop.”

You read the sadness in his face, and felt a tug in your heartstrings. Not only were you feeling like shit being around him, you were making him feel bad now too.  Oh, well done.

“No, Anders- I know that. You didn’t do anything. You’re fine.” You reached out to tap his cheek consolingly. “You’re perfect.”

“Then why do you keep looking at me like that?”

You retracted your hand, hunching your shoulders. “Like what?”

“Like that. Like I hurt your feelings or something.” “No. No, you didn’t. Really. There’s nothing wrong.”

Anders scowled, his cheek rippling in frustration. “Don’t lie to me.”

You swallowed, then looked down. “It doesn’t matter, really. It’s no worries.”

“What’s with you? Just tell me.”

It wasn’t like you to be so vague with him. The idea that you wouldn’t tell him what it was pissed him off for reasons he couldn’t explain to himself; maybe more than the idea that you were upset. You’d always been so open with him before. Did this mean you hated him so much you wouldn’t even give him a chance to make it right? Did you think only the worst of him suddenly?

You hugged yourself, not wanting to be honest, but knowing things were going to keep escalating if you didn’t. You could easily imagine the drunk texts or the scene he’d make at the next god gathering; him blaming Michele or trying to rope Mike into figuring it out for him. Your stomach turned and you fought back a wave of nausea.

“I thought… I could just get over it, or ignore it, or whatever. I wasn’t going to say anything, but- Now I guess I’ve let it ruin things.” 

You groaned, holding a hand to your face. This is pathetic.

“What?” Anders stared at you in confusion, still convinced that he’d done something and you were being too polite to tell him what. It must have been pretty bad to upset you this much, but he couldn’t think of anything out of the ordinary or particularly egregious that he’d done - particularly to you, who he’d considered one of the better gods in the group.

You met his concerned blue eyes with an earnest expression. “Anders, the truth is I-” You licked your lips, fighting the sting of tears. “I’ve sort of- Fallen in love with you? And I know nothing will come of that, so I didn’t want to make things weird by saying so.”

His face was slack with dumbfounded shock.

In love with me?

That was the opposite of what he’d been expecting to hear. You’d been so cold and avoidant that he was sure you were going to tell him how awful of a person he was; you wouldn’t have been the first.

But in love with him? Sure, he’d heard that before from mortal women who he’d Bragi’d to bed, who didn’t really know him at all but found him charming. He’d always shrugged it off as a bit of an insult, or an unintended lie. They loved some incorrect idea of him.

But you knew him better than that. You’d been there through messed up god business, and kept his secrets that even Dawn had no inkling of. That meant that you’d seen all the bad parts of him - bickering with his family; using his powers on everyone; drunk, and high, and being a prick - and concluded that he was lovable?

Really? Even his own family was always chastising him.

You took his stunned silence as confirmation of what you’d already known; he didn’t feel the same for you.

“Sorry,” you managed in goodbye, then climbed into your car.

He watched as you drove off, blinking and at a loss for words, Bragi no help this time.

---

A/N: I wasn't sure I'd end up finishing any of my bingo WIPs given what's going on IRL right now... Shoutout to everyone who has been posting so much for the bingo event! And special shoutout to @laurfilijames, whose fic broke my writer's block.

Tags: @the-poldarkian @i-did-not-mean-to @the-butterfly-blues @laurfilijames @midearthwritings @feeweeeee @ichoosechoasandbeingqueer @missihart23

As always if you'd like to be added or removed from tagging (for a specific character/fandom/everything) just let me know any time!

[river-pebbl]

do you likeeeee meee

no.

I LOVVVVVEEEEEEEE YOOOOOUUUUU🥺🥺🥺❤️🌹🌈✨☀️💜❤️❤️🖤🤍💙💚🤎💗✨💘💕💜💖💘💞❤️❤️💜✨💚🤎🥺🥺💕💕💙🌹🪐💙☀️🛸💖💚✨🤎🗡❤️💜🌈🤍✨🌈❤️✨

[textsfromvictoriasthrone]

[Image description: Text - (503): i met a boy and i'm in (sic) lovvvvveeeeeeee and we're going to vegas and getting (sic) marrrrrriiiieeeeedddddd (360): let's be honest with each other here, that's about the worst idea you've ever had. you need to walk this one off Victoria looks at Lord Melbourne expectingly after she informs him of her engagement to Prince Albert End of image description]

[sheep-athe-comp-blog]

i love these guys i lovvvvveeeeeeee them

Namjoon’s version of Lie :D

cr: @minjoondaily

[necroticnarcotics]

i lovvvvveeeeeeee youuuuuuuu

do you. look at my crimes. my sons. there is blood on my hands.

[liopleurodong]

Oh my gosh....that was amazing! I just got so much love.

Thank you so much: areyoutryingtodeduceme

That was a huge rush of love and I feel so much better. 

And I am still cut free for over a week now! Yes!

[judgmental-pigeon]

And they call it pigeon lovvvvveeeeeeee

Pigeon 695