#but you know what? we appreciating the tall queens!!!

[jojo-rolo]

One word : TALL. This is @artnijna​‘s Mona Lisa! I just couldn’t not draw her, she’s such a cutie!

Based on this :

[targaryen-dynasty]

ENCOURAGEMENT.

Daemon Targaryen x little sister!Reader

It's 105 AC. Your brother, King Viserys, wants to throw a feast in honor to announce his wife's pregnancy. You want to attend—if it weren't for the rising doubts about your changing body. But it's good your husband knows a way to ease your worries.

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MINORS DNI; canon typical incest/targcest (brother & sister), mirror sex, vaginal fingering, praise kink, female and pregnant reader, lactation, lactation kink, nipple play

WORDS: 2.5 K

NOTES: Thank you for betaing this sweet thing, @happilyhertale! 🤍

❗️𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

Frustration brings you to the point you stand completely bare in front of the large mirror that’s been brought into your chambers by the servants, looking at your reflection. To the right hangs a black gown, and to the left a more reddish one. And neither of the two will fit over your swollen curves, you just know by looking at it.

You’ve scared off your ladies-in-waiting a few minutes ago, usually soft-spoken you experiencing an emotional outburst that just called for you to be left alone.

Nearing the six moon mark of your first pregnancy has left your body with scars and marks around your rounded belly and swollen breasts, some even teetering down the insides of your thighs. And yet, when you look at your husband strolling into your martial chambers with not more than a large cloth hanging around his hips, his scarred chest on full display, you can only admire him for wearing them with so much confidence.

But not even your own doubts can stop your eyes from stealing glances, his toned physique managing to put your mind at ease for once. Trailing your eyes over the expanse of his scarred chest down to the dark trail of hair that ends deep below the cloth that conceals most of it. However, it only poorly hides the way his half-hard member prods against the linen with each step he makes towards you.

He makes no secret out of the way his lilac eyes all but devour your body and its curves, although your belly is not yet as swollen as Aemma’s was when she was with Rhaenyra. The pregnancy has made you even more of a woman, and knowing he’s the one responsible for it makes him feel proud but also quite possessive.

“What is it?” he asks, his gravelly voice sending a chill down your spine.

Daemon eventually comes to a stop with his tall frame looming over yours from behind, fingers trailing over your side in an uncharacteristically tender and gentle manner. Every inch of your reflection is devoured by his greedy eyes. “We do not have to attend the feast, you know,” he says. “I wouldn’t dream of depriving myself of the pleasure of spending time with my wife.”

As he bows his head forward to press his lips to your shoulder, the soft strands of his silver hair tickle your skin, making you lean into his embrace and him reaching around you to splay a hand over your swollen belly.

“But I want to go. It’s the feast in honor of the queen announcing her pregnancy, and our brother will be cross with us if we do not attend,” you pout at him. “I just… I just don’t know which dress to choose.”

Daemon, however, knows full well that you’re being less than honest with him about your reluctance to go to the feast, becoming obvious when he starts to trace his fingers over the marks running across the underside of your bump. “That truly is a conundrum,” he says.

Sighing loudly, you try to escape his fingers by leaning further against him. But the friction your rear causes against the cloth is enough to loosen its tie, allowing it to fall to the ground.

The both of you are completely bare now, and he wastes no time in pressing his hard cock snugly into the crevice of your arse, making his desire for you more than clear.

“Let us forget the dresses for now. You know you’ll look ravishing no matter what you wear,” Daemon drawls, running a hand along your side. “Besides, why not allow me to appreciate every inch of you… no dresses involved.”

It sounds far too tempting… if you were in the mood. But with you struggling with your changing body for quite some time now, the thought of unraveling for him discourages you even more. “We do not have time,” you try to protest.

Much to your surprise, your usually insolent husband listens to your words.

“I think you’ll find that we have plenty of time, my love,” he mumbles, taking a step back with his hands raised in defeat. “The time we spend together would be much better than the time spent amongst a bunch of prudes at a feast.”

Not paying a mind to his words, you just nod appreciatively, and bring your attention back to the two gowns still hanging next to the mirror. Perhaps you can make the black one work with the laces tied extra loosely, and you only present at the feast for no longer than two hours.

Daemon stalks around you to stand next to the mirror, shamelessly dragging his eyes over your naked form and watching you inspect one of the dresses.

“Do you not have to dress yourself, husband?” you ask, pinching the fabric of the black dress between your fingers, trying not to pay too much attention to him. But his gaze is intense, burning straight through your skin, and making your body heat up.

You meet his eyes, cocking an eyebrow.

“There is a more important matter for me to tend to,” he objects.

“What are you–” you’re interrupted when your husband grabs the sides of the mirror and hoists it up, bringing it closer to your marital bed.

Turning on your heels, you watch him adjust it and eventually sit down on the bed with both feet planted firmly on the ground. The confusion must be evident on your features, because without a question uttered, Daemon pats his sturdy thigh and parts his legs, silently beckoning you over with a come-hither motion of his fingers.

The sight alone is alluring, his thick cock resting hard and heavy between his thighs, covered in an angry red and aching to be buried inside of you. But wanting to find out what he’s in mind is what brings you closer to him.

You move to climb his lap, wanting to sit astride him like you sit on Silverwing, but Daemon beats you to it. He scoots back slightly and brings his paws to your hips, turning you around. He pulls you back to sit down in the space between his parted legs.

When his hands hook beneath your knees to drape them over his thighs, inevitably exposing yourself to him, you instinctively lean back against him to adjust to the position.

You want to squeeze your thighs together, to hide from him, but his legs stop you from doing so. He brings a hand up to cup your full breast, squeezing lightly and testing the weight and shape of it. They’re full of milk by now, providing for your unborn child, and hard and heavy to the touch.

Pressing his lips to the curve of your shoulder, you tilt your head to the side, not daring to watch your fully exposed reflection in the mirror. You’ve been bare around him the whole time, and he’s fucked you in ways that would bring a blush to certain people’s faces, but something in the current position and your growing insecurities makes you more vulnerable right now.

Daemon adjusts his fingers so that your taut bud pops up between them, and just a bit of pressure is already enough to coax droplets of your milk to spill from it. Your breathing grows heavy, more so because it’s already enough friction to ease some of the tormenting tension.

“I want to see you full and lovely and large, swollen with my seed and carrying my child,” he mutters against your skin. His other hand comes up to cup your chin, pushing your head forwards to all but force you to look at yourself. “And I want you to watch as I worship that precious body of yours.”

The hand on your chin settles at your throat, not squeezing it but tight enough for it to be a warning for you not to move. The other hand releases your breast and trails down to the apex of your legs. It all happens agonizingly slowly, tracing and following every scar that runs along the curve of your bump, until it finally finds your cunt.

As his fingers drag through it, even your husband can’t seem to stop himself from moaning. “You’re weeping for me, my love,” he rasps, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. “So beautiful.” Withdrawing his fingers, they’re glistening with your arousal, connected by faint strings of it as he spreads his fingers.

You whimper, and dip your head back far enough for him to capture your lips. The kiss is sloppy, matching the rhythm he sets up as his fingers trace your cunt.

Daemon hums in approval as you pull away from him to look into the mirror, watching the exact moment his deft fingers ease into you. You gasp at the motion, and put all your weight back against him, melting into his embrace with his muscular arms around you.

There’s a pout on your lips when the pressure of his fingers leaves you again, used to spread apart your folds instead. In the reflection you see his dark blown eyes fixed on nothing else than what lies between your legs, his hard cock throbbing against your lower back as you clench around nothing. “Look how beautiful you look all spread out and ready for me, my love.”

Trying to squeeze your thighs shut, his hand comes from your throat to clasp around one, keeping you spread open for him. “Oh, don’t you dare,” he warns, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

With the heel of his hand pressing snugly against your pearl now, you can’t help but whimper as his fingers enter you again. The pace is slow and languid, making clear that neither of you is in a hurry tonight. It’s all about you.

“Seven hells, just look at you,” he coos against the side of your face, tip of his nose nudging your cheek. He clearly enjoys the confidence you slowly start to muster as his praises go straight to your head, coaxing you to rock your hips against his hand. “You truly have no idea of how much I desire you. Always.”

His words bring another wave of crimson to your cheeks, running down your neck and chest. It’s heaving with all the heavy breaths you inhale, and your taut buds have not softened since he touched them. If everything, his words and gestures have coaxed a few beads of milk to ooze from both, running down the curve of your breasts.

Reaching behind you, your hand rests at the back of his head, entangling into his long, silver hair. “Daemon–” you whimper, but he’s quick to silence you.

“Shush now,” he rasps. “Just enjoy and observe.”

And you certainly do, watching his fingers pump in and out of you as if it’s the most enthralling thing you’ve ever seen.

When he’s sure you’ll keep your legs spread for him, he brings his hand to your full breast again, groping and squeezing it, pinching the little bud to tease even more milk to spill from it.

It’s so much coming together at once. His praise goes straight to your head, making it hazy and longing for more, while liquid fire courses through your veins, ignited by the skilled ministrations of his fingers.

Daemon seems to sense your impending peak, and is determined to work you toward the sweet relief you so desperately crave.

The pace of his fingers increases now, fingers repeatedly brushing the sweet spot inside of you that makes your vision blurry. Pleasure soars through your body, and eventually is enough to snap the familiar knot inside of your belly. And that’s also the moment you can’t watch yourself any longer. The pleasure grows to the point you have to close your eyes to be able to thoroughly enjoy it. But your husband doesn’t seem to mind.

“There you go,” he coos, not slowing down the pace of his hands. “Such a good girl.”

Your walls convulse all over Daemon’s fingers, and with you releasing the sweetest and most desperate sounds your husband has heard in a while, he’s sure he could’ve peaked on spot, more so with the vice-like grip you have on his long hair.

His hand works you through the waves of euphoria, just slightly slowing down, and while your mind doesn’t process some of the praises he mumbles against your skin, your body does; with a renewed wave of arousal dripping out of your cunt.

It’s surprising that the pleasure doesn’t get replaced by overstimulation, especially with just how little time he gives you to recover until he starts pumping his fingers in and out of you at a harsher pace again.

“Gods be good,” you whimper, tipping your head back against his shoulder. Your hand releases his hair and instead you grab his forearm with both, clinging onto it for dear life.

“One more for me, you’re doing so good.”

You have barely time to process the first peak and its repercussions when the second washes over you in an ambush, striking you like lightning. It’s not as intense as the first, but prolonged with his other hand now frantically rubbing your pearl.

“Shh, just let it happen,” he purrs, pressing sloppy kisses to your cheek as you struggle against him.

It takes just a few more pumps of his hand until the pleasure subsides, only leaving a wave of bliss in its wake. Daemon’s hands both stop their ministrations, and you finally feel as though you’re able to breathe again.

As you open your eyes, you see him lick the remnants of your arousal off his fingers, before they tease your buds again, gathering some of your milk to lick off of them as well.

Whimpering and whining at the touch, you just slowly catch your breath. He soothes you by snaking both arms around your form, cupping your swollen belly, and presses gentle kisses to the side of your face.

“You’re an absolute vision in this state, and I do not wish for you to ever doubt that,” he mutters against your skin. “You look more desirable carrying my child, than any other woman does in their most provocative dress.”

Releasing a soft chuckle, you turn your head and capture his lips with yours. A chaste peck is not what he has anticipated, but he’s still happy that he was able to lift your spirits.

“Kirimvose, ñuha jorrāelagon,” you whisper. “Care to help me with the black dress?” Thank you, my love.

“Oh, I will,” Daemon says with a teasing lilt in his voice. He grabs you by the waist and carefully hoists you up, but when he lies you down on your back, you know you won’t be getting into the dress so soon. “But I think I need just a little more time to get fully into the spirit of the occasion.”

The moment he climbs on the bed to kiss his way over your marks and curves, you squeal and squirm, entangling your hands into his hair again.

Viserys can never be angry with you two for long anyway.

[tim-shii]

a/n: im pretty sure this is my first work for haikyuu IM EXCITED I WANNA WATCH THE MOVIE ☹️ accept this offering 🫂 pspsps not beta 🤗 also the word pretty is overused .. i mean suna is pretty so 🧍‍♀️

“babe, i’m home— woah! i didn’t know we were at this stage in our relationship. finally admitting you’re obsessed with me?”

“shut up, rin.” coming home after a practice match to you lazing around on the couch, wearing his shirt? a jaw dropping view. suna admires the way his band t-shirt hangs loosely around your figure. your hair is a wet mess, you must’ve just taken a shower, and your eyes are practically begging to be closed. yet, suna thinks you look as beautiful as ever. fuck. if you guys weren’t already married, he would’ve proposed to you right there and then because you just look so perfect right now.

the light from your phone illuminates your facial features. his eyes rake from your lashes down to your lips. that brings a smile to his face. he drops his bag by the door and stalks over to where you are, dropping his whole weight on you.

“rin! get off— you’re heavy and sweaty!” try as you might but an over six foot tall athlete boyfriend is not easy to push off. “but you love me!” he buries his head in your neck with a groan.

“if i didn’t, i wouldn’t have a ring with your name engraved on the inside.” you sighed in defeat. to say that suna rintaro is a stubborn man would be an understatement. he’s pettier than a five-year-old and throws tantrums when his affections are rejected or not reciprocated.

he pushes himself up with his arms beside your head and looks down at you with a grin that only means mischief. “you are so in love and obsessed with me that you steal shirts from my closet. aren’t you a cutie?” he squeezes your cheeks with a calloused hand and makes kissing noises. he’s so stupid, you think. you just wanna stupidly shut him up.

and so you did, pulling down his chin with a hand of your own. capturing his lips in a fervor kiss comes easy as breathing. you feel his breath hitch for a second before he returns the favor.

suna pulls away first, slapping a palm over your mouth after. (“mmph?!” you glared)

“you are a menace. taking advantage of a man like me? evil!” he pulls his palm away and bit your cheek.

“i married a drama queen.” you rolled your eyes.

“you love this drama queen!”

“you sure about that? what if i married you for your money? or i married you for your— i don’t know, looks.” suna narrows his eyes at you before a mischievous grin spreads across his pretty face.

“i don’t know, babe. your vows said otherwise. what was it again? i am the luckiest person alive to be standing with you today and to be facing life with you everyday—”

“liar! those weren’t my vows!” you shove a throw pillow on his pretty face. “that is so cringe, i would never say that.”

“you are cringe. you would a hundred percent say that. hell, you’ll say something even more cringe than that.”

“you’re the cringe one. running to the stands and kissing me in front of everybody right after a game that you lost!”

“hey! i’m sensitive about that.” of course, he pouts at you. a frown on his pretty face resembling a kicked puppy.

“you insulted my vows.”

“i did not insult your vows. i was just.. recalling and rephrasing them.”

“that wasn’t anything near my vows. how dare you. i didn’t sleep for three nights writing those.” suna attacks your face again. littering kisses all over your pretty face.

“rin, stop it— your fucking saliva—”

“i love you, too.” he murmurs, plopping a kiss tied with passion and adoration on your lips.

likes and reblogs are appreciated! masterlist

[thehorrorgirlstyles]

Opposites attract

Part 1

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Find P2 Here!

Warnings: 18+ smut, male masturbation, degradation!kink, pet names, cussing, squirting, little bit of praise!kink, derogatory words, harassment, bullying, public sex, some breeding kink, dry humping

Minors don’t interact!

Summary: You are the queen of Hawkins high, being a cheerleader and dating the football captain Jason, however after spending time with the dungeon master and getting to know just how attractive he is, while Jason shows his true colors one night, your love for the blonde slowly starts to fade away and is replaced by an ache needing to be relieved by Eddie “the freak” Munson…

——————————————————————————

Jason was the love of your life or at least that’s what you told yourself. I mean he was your first everything, boyfriend, v-card, kiss, etc… You loved him and he loved you, you couldn’t be happier, or at least you thought. One night, while your mom and dad where gone on a business trip, you and Jason were laying on your queen size bed in your obnoxiously pink room, while Kate Bush played faintly in the back room of your room, when he decided to express his hatred for the brown haired freak.

“I just don’t get what your problem is with Eddie Jason, he seems nice”. You say as you look into his eyes. “Are you serious y/n, he’s a freak that leads a cult into worshiping the devil!” He looks at you like you’ve just grown two heads. “Jason listen to me… when I talked to Eddie the other da-” He interrupts you, “Talked to him, y/n you can’t be serious, I told you to stay away from him, he’s dangerous.” “Eddie may be different but he’s not dangerous” You look at him as he stares at you in disbelief. “Babe as your boyfriend I’m telling you to stay away from him… don’t talk to him, don’t stand up for him, don’t even look at him… I’m serious y/n”. You’ve never been scared of Jason before but the look in his eyes makes you worry, he must noticed this because he continues, “I’m sorry I just wanna keep you safe, I don’t want anything bad happening to you”. You seriously doubt Eddie would do anything to hurt you, but you stay quiet and nod you head, while giving a small smile to your boyfriend, you just want this conversation to be over with.

On Monday morning, while getting dressed for school you think back to how mad your boyfriend got because of Eddie, but you brush it off because like he said, he just wants to protect you, he doesn’t want you getting hurt or anything bad to happen to you.

When you hop into his car he gives you a quick peck on the lips and heads off to school, not even mentioning the conversation you two had earlier that night.

After you arrive to school Jason gives you a hug and heads off to class, in pursuit of finding his basketball friends. You look around for your best friend Robin but can’t seem to find her in the crowd, so you head to the bathrooms to freshen up before going back out. Just as you reach the bathrooms, you collide with a tall figure. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t see where I was going”. You apologize without looking up. “It’s alright sweetheart, I should’ve been more careful”. You recognize the voice instantly and look up to see Eddie staring back at you with a small grin. “Oh hey Eddie, how’ve you been” you smile back. “Oh you know same old same old, still rounding up kids for my devil worshiping cult, in fact we just found a great candidate for our sacrifice tomorrow”. “Oh really” you play along chuckling. “Yup she’s a sweetheart” he smiles at you. You open your mouth to respond, but you hear someone calling your name. You turn around to be met with a not so pleased Jason. “Oh umm Jason I was jus-” he cuts you off again, “What the fuck are you doing to my girl” he seethes at Eddie, while pulling you away from him by your arm. “Oh nothing just turning the queen over to the dark side” he just smiles at Jason’s anger. Jason however doesn’t seem to appreciate it, as he grips Eddie’s shirt by the collar, “Stay the fuck away from her you freak” he spits in Eddie’s face. “Don’t go near her ever again” Eddie just grins at this, “Wouldn’t dream of it”. Jason finally lets Eddie go and turns back around to you. You notice the way his eyes are dark, burning with anger. He grips your arm and basically drags you around the corner. When he gets to a secluded area he pushes you up against the wall, “Remember that chat we had yesterday” all you can do is nod, to scared to say anything. “If you remember then why were you talking to him y/n” the way he says your name makes you want to get away from him, after a while you don’t say anything, so he bangs his fist against the wall right next to your head, “SPEAK TO ME WHEN I’M TALKING TO YOU!” He yells. You flinch in shock, Jason has never dared to raise his voice at you before, “WHY THE FUCK WERE YOU AND MUNSON TALKING!” You close your eyes and breathe, was Jason really yelling at you right now, was he really this pissed about a conversation, you and Eddie didn’t even exchange that many words, why was he so freaking pissed, “I’m sorry… it won’t happen again”. You open your eyes and look at him, he seems to have calmed down. “Alright, I-I just want you to be safe baby, that’s all I want” he hugs you against the wall and you’d think that you’d feel safe anywhere else than in his arms.

The next day you forget about the encounter with Jason and go on with your day like normal, going to English class with Robin, doing your cheer routine with Chrissy, during cheer practice, having lunch with your boyfriend, and having physics with Eddie Munson… wait having physics with Munson. As you round the corner for your physics class, you start to grow worry. The teacher recently paired the students up to work on a project and you, of course, got paired to be with Eddie. At first you thought it would be a fun experience, getting to know more about the metal head, but now, after Jason’s warning yesterday, you were terrified. Of course you liked Eddie, I mean you two got on quick a lot, considering how you were you and he was he, but Jason made you distance yourself from a potential friend and you didn’t want to find out what would happen if you were to break the distancing, for your sake and his. When you got to the door, you could see Eddie writing something down in his notes, probably working on his new campaign, you smiled at the thought. You were about to go and sit next to him, when Jason’s voice repeated in your head, so instead you decided to skip, it was the last period of the day anyways.

When you got home, you sat on your bed and wondered what things would be like if Jason wasn’t your boyfriend. You couldn’t imagine life without him, but with the way he was starting to act, it made you scared and a girl should never be scared of the one that’s supposed to love you the most, but maybe that’s it, maybe Jason loves you too much.

Friday comes around and everything has gone back to normal, except for the fact that you haven’t been attending your last period class. You know you owe Eddie and explanation, I mean he is trying to graduate this year and so are you, so you make your way to the place you know he will be.

When you get to the door, where hellfire is held, you pause, should you really be doing this, if Jason found out, you don’t even wanna think about it, but then you think about Eddie and about how nice he’s been too you, how funny and sarcastic he can be in class, how he always asks for your help on assignments, how he isn’t afraid to speak his mind, and how he doesn’t let anyone speak bad about you, not even his club members. Eddie has been nothing but kind to you and here you are blowing him off because of your possessive boyfriend, so to hell with what he cares, you are going to apologize to Eddie. Just as your about to open the door Jason walks down the hall with Patrick and chance. You mentally scream, if he saw you standing outside the hellfire door, you wouldn’t hear the end of it, so you open the door and run inside without looking back.

You hold your breathe as you hear them pass by and exhale with relief. “Umm hello” your head shoots up at the voice, Dustin you believe his name is speaks, “We’re kind of in the middle of a game here” he looks at you. You look around the room, realizing everyone stoped what there doing to look at you. You blush, you didn’t even consider to think that Eddie would be having a campaign going, “Oh right, I’m sorry” you go to leave, wanting to be gone, this was so embarrassing. As you go to turn the knob, Eddie speaks up, “Wait” you turn around and look into his eyes, he stares back and clears his throat, “Uh did you need something… what did you want” you look at him silently praying that he’ll take the hint that you want to talk in private. He looks back at you and then at his friends, “Give me five minutes” in says to them, you hear them all groan in protest, but he’s already up and out of his throne, as he calls it.

When you go out the room you start to realize how nervous you are. Eddie looks at you patiently waiting for you to speak. “I just wanted to come and apologize to you for not showing up to class… I know how much you want to, how hard your trying to graduate this year and me not being there isn’t helping, since we have to work on it together and all”you look up at him and he smiles at you. “It’s not your fault, it’s alright y/n, however I do miss you, physics is so boring without you there to laugh at my god awful jokes” you chuckle with him, god did you miss those jokes. “I’ll be there tomorrow and we can get right back to it” you make up your mind, Jason doesn’t have the right to tell you who you can’t and can speak to, he would just have to deal with it you decide. “Great I can’t wait sweetheart” he grins at you and you smile back blushing. Finally things are actually back to normal. Eddie bids you farewell and goes back to hellfire, you turn around and go to leave school. Just as you turn around and walk a little to the front doors, you see your boyfriend standing there with his arms crossed. You gulp, did he just get here or was he standing there for a long time, how much of that did he see? Telling by the look on his face, he saw all of it…

[kymerawrites]

"You're such a bloody drama queen," Simon grumbled under his breath, smoking a cigarette as he watched her pace back and forth. He didn't move an inch from his spot on the couch, arms crossed over his chest. It was always like this with her; they argue, they make up, they argue again. It was a vicious cycle they couldn't seem to break free from. He took a drag of his cigarette before blowing out a stream of smoke, eyes still locked on her

"Can't you just sit still for a bloody second?" Simon snapped, his irritation getting the better of him. "You're giving me a damn headache with all that walking around." He tapped his fingers impatiently on the armrest, his gaze following her every movement. He couldn't help but feel frustrated by her constant need for motion, like a caged animal.

"I could if you'd stop being such a controlling arsehole," she shot back, stopping in her tracks to glare at him. "Sorry if my pacing bothers you, but I have the right to move around in my own home." She crossed her arms, her defiant stance mirroring his.

"Your home?" Simon echoed, a mocking edge to his voice. He snorted, extinguishing his cigarette in the ash tray. "Last I checked, we share this apartment. And believe me, I didn't ask for a fidgety partner who can't sit still for two seconds."

“God for fuck sakes Simon, you make me pace this way. Can’t you see that?!” I said irritated

He rolled his eyes, clearly unperturbed by her retort. "Oh, and it's all my fault that you're pacing around like a maniac?" He leaned back on the couch, his gaze sharpening. "Maybe, just maybe, you should try taking some responsibility for your own actions instead of blaming everything on me. Ever thought of that?"

I huffed in annoyance, not backing down from his gaze. "And maybe you should stop making me so bloody irritated that I can't stand still! You're always bossing me around, like I'm some sort of property and not a person with my own thoughts and feelings."

He stood up abruptly, his tall frame towering over her. "You know damn well that's not true," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "I don't treat you like a bloody object. I care about you, even if you can't see it. And if I come off as controlling sometimes, it's because I want to bloody protect you."

“Oh no, it’s you and your fucking lieutenant, commander whatever the fuck you are act in my space.” I scoffed

His eyes narrowed at her sarcastic remark. "Watch your bloody tongue," he warned, his tone more menacing than before. "You know damn well what I do for a living, and I don't appreciate your tone. But while we're on the subject, you could learn a thing or two about respecting your partner. Maybe if you weren't such a bloody pain in the arse all the time, I wouldn't have to step in and take charge."

That comment hit me, just a little to make me shift from mad to confused “so, if I’m such a pain to you, such a..liability why not leave me?”

He gritted his teeth, his frustration mounting. "Because goddamn it, I care about you," he snapped. "Despite all your attitude and stubbornness, I can't just walk away. Believe me, I've bloody tried. But deep down, I know I can't let you go. Even if you drive me mad with all your whining and dramatics."

I turned around not to face him “you can also just say you love me.”

He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "Bloody hell," he muttered under his breath. He walked closer to her, his movements slow and deliberate. "I do love you, alright? But love doesn't make this any easier. It complicates everything. Because even though I love you, you still piss me off like no one else can, and it drives me bloody insane."

He grabbed my waist and hugged me from behind I just smirked “and yet I think you love all the sass and drama I give you don’t you?”

He let out a scoff, his fingers digging into her waist. "Bloody hell, you know me too well," he muttered. "Yes, there's something infuriatingly addicting about your damn attitude and all the drama you bring into my life." He buried his face in her neck, inhaling her scent.

He chuckled softly against her skin, his breath warm and tickling. "Bloody hell, you drive me wild with it. Part of me wants to strangle you, and the other part..." He trailed off, his hand roaming higher up her body, tracing her curves.

“Finish that sentence si..” I whispered

He nipped at her earlobe, his voice low and gravelly. "And the other part wants to do things that I can't even say in public." He spun her around to face him, his gaze dark and intense. "You have no idea the effect you have on me, how you make me feel. It's maddening, it's intoxicating and it's all your damn fault."

He pushed her against the wall, his body pressing against hers. His hands gripped her wrists, pinning them above her head. "You know what else is maddening?" he growled, his face mere inches away from hers. "How bloody irresistible you are when you're all defiant and stubborn like this. It's like you're begging for me to put you in your place."

He dipped his head, his lips brushing against her neck, leaving a trail of warm, open-mouthed kisses. "And the worse part is, you know damn well you have me wrapped around your little finger. Even when you're infuriating me, I can't get you out of my head." He nipped at her skin, his teeth grazing her sensitive spots.

He dipped his head, his lips brushing against her neck, leaving a trail of warm, open-mouthed kisses. "And the worse part is, you know damn well you have me wrapped around your little finger. Even when you're infuriating me, I can't get you out of my head." He nipped at her skin, his teeth grazing her sensitive spots.

He shifted his body, pressing his thigh between her legs. "You push my buttons on purpose, just so you can get a reaction out of me. And bloody hell, you always get the reaction you want." He pinned her even tighter against the wall, trapping her in his embrace.

His lips found hers in a hard, possessive kiss. He dominated the kiss, his tongue delving into her mouth, claiming her in a way that was both rough and passionate. He pushed his body flush against hers, his hands roaming down to grip her thighs, lifting her up against the wall.

“You’re too good for me si..” I laughed as he lifted my legs on the wall forcing me to embrace them around his waist

He grunted with the effort, his muscles straining as he pressed her against the wall. "Bloody hell, you're a menace," he growled, his lips finding her neck again, sucking and nibbling on her sensitive skin. "Bloody menace with your damn legs wrapped around me like this. Drives me wild to have you like this, all vulnerable and pliable in my arms."

He ground his hips into hers, his arousal evident against her core. "And you're damn wrong about that. I'm not too good for you. I'm just bloody addicted to the way you make me feel, like you're a poison I can't get enough of."

I rolled my eyes “just kiss me already lovebird.” I smiled

He chuckled at her cheeky remark, his eyes dark and intense. "Bloody smartass," he murmured, before capturing her lips in another fierce kiss. He devoured her, his tongue delving into her mouth and dominating the kiss. The kiss was rough and passionate, full of pent-up desire and frustration.

And ofcourse they kissed and made up just for the cycle to continue

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Shine Bright Like A Winner

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~900

Warnings: implied smut

Summary: You have your eyes set on a very expensive necklace at an auction. So does someone else. When you lose, he pays you a special visit and confesses something you've been wishing for a while now.

Square Filled: stranger for @acrosstheuniversebingo (deleted bingo)

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Your favorite part about being rich is going to auctions and bidding for expensive things. Yes, that sounds arrogant and snobby but you have an entire wing at your house dedicated to rare and valuable items you’ve won across the world. It’s a sort of collection that you’ve been obsessed with growing. It’s the same as someone having a snow globe collection or a keychain collection. Instead of small trinkets, you’re dedicated to collecting one-of-a-kind items.

A few of your favorite pieces are a balloon animal made of steel and mirrors designed by Jeff Koons, a 1962 Ferrari 250 GTO Berlinetta, and a portrait of Marilyn Monroe done by Andy Warhol. You love traveling and seeing different cultures and owning parts of that culture for yourself. 

They are nice conversation pieces.

This auction, however, has only one thing you’re interested in. Queen Marie Antoinette’s Pearl. It would make a nice addition to your valuable jewlery collection with the occasional night out with your friends. You're currently in Italy for their annual auction that’s exclusive for only the extreme wealthy. You’re sitting in your seat fanning yourself with a personal fan as you wait. People are still coming in when you notice a tall man wearing a sleek black suit.

Your eyes narrow slightly once you recognize him. Dr. Spencer Reid. He’s rich, a doctor, and so delicious looking. He’s not a doctor of medicine but that’s neither here nor there. You have fantasies of calling him doctor in the bedroom. His brown eyes lock with yours and a smirk brands his beautiful face. He sits down on the other end of the audience but in perfect view. It doesn't matter if there are other people sitting in between you. He’s tall enough for you to see him above everyone else’s heads.

The auctioneer stands on stage and begins the service. There are some good items up for grabs but nothing that catches your eyes. The auctioneer moves from the paintings, statues, and other trinkets to the jewelry section. Spencer notices you sit up a bit straighter telling him you’re interested in what’s to come. The auctioneer passes by beautiful jewels until he gets to the one you have your eye on.

“Next on our list is a very valuable, very rare necklace. Once worn and owned by none other than Queen Maria Antionette. The bidding starts at ten million dollars. Do we have any takers?”

“Ten million,” you say and raise your bidding stick.

“Ten million! Do I hear eleven?”

“Thirty million,” Spencer says and raises his stick.

You narrow your eyes at Spencer who hasn’t stopped looking at you since he saw you were interested in this.

“Fifty,” you argue.

“Sixty.”

“Eighty.”

“One hundred million.”

Are you willing to spend one hundred million on something like this? You certainly have the money but is it worth it?

“One hundred and ten million,” you say before you can stop yourself.

“One hundred and fifty million,” Spencer says immediately after.

You can’t do that. Sure, you could keep going higher since you’re a billionaire but you didn’t become a billionaire by spending your money all willy nilly. You lean back in your chair and cross one leg over the other without saying anything.

“One hundred and fifty million going once,” the announcer says. “Going twice… Sold! To the gentleman in the sleek black suit!”

You’d be more upset over the loss but you’ll negotiate a price later with him. That necklace is going home with you, you know that much.

The rest of the auction goes by without a problem but your eyes didn’t leave Spencer. He kept his back turned to you the entire time but he knew your eyes were on him. Afterward, you headed back to your hotel since you’re flying back to the States the next day. Before you could get undressed for bed, someone knocks on your door. You’re still wearing your elegant dress but without shoes so the bottom of the dress drags on the ground whenever you walk.

You look through the peephole and see none other than Spencer standing on the other side. You open the door and look up at him since he’s much taller than you especially without the shoes.

“Hey, stranger. Are you here to rub it in my face that you won?”

“Turn around.”

Spencer steps inside your room forcing you to step back from him. He closes the door and you turn to face the hall mirror. He takes something out of his suit jacket pocket. You don’t see what it is until he wraps it around your neck. The necklace. Queen Marie Antionette’s Pearl. It shines brightly against your skin like it was always meant to be there.

“The necklace,” you whisper and look at him through the mirror.

“Only someone like you can pull off wearing something like this.”

“I’m not going to argue with you about that,” you smirk.

Spencer moves your hair to the side and presses soft kisses up and down your neck. He kisses up to your ear and sucks your earlobe into his mouth. You resist letting out a moan.

“You want to know what I’d really like to do now?” he whispers.

“What?”

He looks up and locks eyes with you through the mirror.

“Fuck you while you wear only this necklace.”

“What’s stopping you?” you grin.

Spencer turns you and picks you up bridal style. Suddenly, you’re not so mad at him for winning. Right now, you feel like the winner.

x

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[whaledenwtf]

Gale Dekarios X Sorcerer!Reader - Spin the Bottle

The Gale girlies of tiktok got their clutches in me and I want him. I already had my hands full with wanting Astarion AND Halsin but now Gale too? I can't believe I've dedicated so much time to PIXELS. Anyways, here's some wizard sex. :)

AO3 LINK: Here Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist: Here

Warnings: afab!reader and Male Smut, Body Worship ( Female Receiving), Creampie, Oral (Female Receiving), Misuse of the Mage Hand Cantrip (oh yeah), Praise Kink, Spin the Bottle Trope, Angst too!!! Sorry

I try to keep Gale as close to his character as possible but the idea of even entertaining Mystra in the fic for more than half a moment fills me with anger. So I try to only bring her up during the angst.

WORD COUNT: 5325

The last few days... weeks? Have been awful. Ever since you met all your companions in the wreckage of the nautiloid ship (and evidently, the wreckage of any normalcy) you've spent every day exploring the Sword Coast looking for answers and seeking guidance on how to rid yourselves of the tadpole. During the day, the heat is cooled by the breeze of the ocean, but nothing can quell the stress of the band of misfits you find yourself surrounded by.

"We should head to the cre'che. You may be too far gone, too weak, but I need the guidance of Queen Vlaakith." A chorus of groans echo Lae'zel's words.

"All offense, but I do not want a githyanki prodding in my skull." Shadowheart tells her annoyed. You roll your eyes, bracing yourself for the oncoming fight. You've been around them long enough to know that the daily Lae'zel and Shadowheart fight will have to be broken up by you, again. Lae'zel unsheathes her sword and points it towards Shadowheart.

"Just because you are a k'chakhi, doesn't mean (Y/N) can't understand reason." You look around and see everyone look annoyed. Well, almost everyone. Astarion always watches the fights with glee, bright smiles and wicked intentions.

"Excuse me? What did you just call me? I'll make sure Shar punishes you greatly." Shadowheart pulls out her mace. You can already tell this will get bloody. You walk in between them and put your arms out.

"Enough. For gods sake, both of you need to relax. You're both acting unreasonable." You cringe the moment you say those words.

"Unreasonable?!" They both respond, aiming their weapons at you. You roll your eyes, pulling out your staff.

"Point those weapons at me again and I'll make sure to cast a Hold Person so well you'll be stuck here until you transform." Everyone's mouths drop open at your words. You were a sorcerer, usually kind tempered, or you'd like to think so. This has been the tenth time you had to break up a fight between the two in the last three days. It was sickening, and you were at your wits' end. Astarion giggles with glee, clapping his hands at your words. You point your staff at him too.

"I'll cast it on you too-" He pouts at your words, no longer finding the threat fun when it's directed towards him. "Now all of you shut the hells up so we can go find more answers on what to do. No more fighting." Everyone nods silently. You exhale loudly and smile.

"Now let's go." Lae'zel scoffs, sheathing her weapon and bumping Shadowhearts shoulder as she walks past. You turn away and lead the group forward, going towards the Goblin Camp that is holding Arch Druid Halsin captive; the druids in the grove said he may have information on your tadpoles.

"I'm afraid that I cannot heal you. These tadpoles are different, and have magic that even someone as experienced as I cannot remove them." Halsin tells you sadly. The group groans at the tall elf's words. After completely eradicating all the goblins and other beasts in the camp, Halsin is still unable to help.

"However, I was able to track that they are coming from the Shadow Cursed lands, and may be tied to the Moonrise Towers." This was news! Not as good as you were hoping, but its a lead! A start to an otherwise longer journey.

"I appreciate you trying Halsin. Thank you." You tell him quietly. He nods, his hand on your shoulder.

"I should be the one thanking you. You have freed me and explained what Kagha was planning to do to the Emerald Grove-" Astarion cuts off the Druid.

"Yes yes, we get it. We helped. Seems like we did it for no reason." Without turning your gaze away from Halsin, you wack him with your staff. After a loud thump and Astarion's "ow", you smile at the elf.

"No need to thank me, Halsin. Your information will guide us onward." He nods, frowning for a moment.

"Once I get back from ending the Rite of Thorns, I will meet you at your camp and join you on your journey. I hate to ask more of you, but I need assistance with eradicating the Shadow Curse."

"More help?!" Astarion exclaims. You turn around, ready to strike again, but Gale beats you to it. He does you a solid and wacks him upside his head with a large tome. Astarion flinches, complaining about his hair. You smile at Gale in thanks, who winks in response to you before you turn back to Halsin, blushing.

"I'm sure in ridding the curse we may find more information about the parasites." Halsin engulfs you in a hug, and you laugh patting his back.

"Thank you, little one. I will trek to the Grove now. You are more than welcome to join me." You turn to look at all your companions, some of which seem eager to go back to the Grove.

"I think we should, just incase a rampant goblin attacks you again." Halsin chuckles, before letting go of you.

"Then let us make haste."

At the Grove, you watch as Halsin berates Kagha. Afterwards you see Zevlor run up to you.

"We must thank you (Y/N)! We gathered all our gold so we can give you something for your troubles." You watch as the man pulls out a small pouch, filled with everyone's gold. You felt pity, as the need to do good outweighed any reward, especially one so small. You knew taking their gold would leave them only with the clothes on their backs, and the supplies they had.

"Oh Zevlor, I cannot take this from you. Keep it for Baldur's Gate. We are just grateful we were able to help in time." He shakes his head.

"At least let us thank you. We can celebrate at your camp and share our wine and food with you." You ponder this.

"Something to destress may be necessary, lest we hear Lae'zel and Shadowheart fight again." Gale whispers in your ear. Your breath hitches. Ever since you pulled Gale of Waterdeep from the collapsing portal, you've been smitten. Despite his very human nature, his soft brown eyes, beautiful features and prose had caught your attention. He was gorgeous, and your heart yearned for him, mind, body and soul.

"If I have to hear the word cre'che one more time I might gauge my eyes out." You whisper back. He chuckles, the sound warm and it shoots straight to your core. You make your decision.

"I think a celebration with some wine, food and good company would be a great reprise from all the stress. We'll see you at sundown." The group cheers, excited for some wine and relaxation. This seems like the first decision everyone agreed with. You smile at them as Zevlor walks away, telling the tieflings about the celebration.

You were already drunk off the vinegar-like wine, teetering on the edge of consciousness and depravity. You see all your companions scattered across the camp; some entertaining the company of the tieflings, others drinking on their lonesome. This won't do! Your drunk mind exclaims. Before you could act on it, Astarion walks up to you, smirking.

"Well, hello to you sweetheart." You blush at his forwardness. It seems everyday you spend together he gets more bold in his words and touches, but he isn't Gale.

"H-hello Astarion." You tell him, stuttering from your inebriated state. His cold hand meets your arm, and you startle, sobering up momentarily.

"Just a hello? I was hoping for a better form of greeting." You roll your eyes at his theatrics.

"And what would that form of greeting be, my beloved?" You ask him sarcastically. He grins, his fangs glistening in the lowlight of the campfire and lanterns scattered about.

"Perhaps a kiss? Maybe a night, with yours truly? I can make you feel things no man has ever made you feel before~" He grabs your waist and pulls you close.

"No things a man has made me feel before? That's cute, but won't work on me." You tell him, slapping the side of his face as though he were a child.

"Won't work? Darling, it's true! I will make you crave my touch~" He whispers to you. You laugh in his face, and he frowns at your response.

"You should go into comedy with such jokes!" He lets go of you and pouts.

"You're no fun." You smirk at his words.

"Oh I'm plenty of fun. You're just not my type." He is taken aback.

"I'm everyone's type, sweetheart. You're just lying to yourself- or your standards are quite low." You really can't entertain his theatrics any longer, your eyes already looking around for Gale.

"Alright Astarion. As lovely as this conversation was, I've got to go." You pull away from him, spotting the wizard near his tent, a glass of wine in one hand and tome in the other. You rush towards him, before your journey is cut off by Karlach.

"H-hey soldier!" You smile at the tiefling.

"Hi Karlach. Are you enjoying yourself?" She nods, her body swaying.

"Of course! Between my engine sort-of working for now, and the booze, I'm on cloud nine!" She tells you, spinning in place. You giggle at her theatrics, before stabilizing her when she gets too dizzy.

"I was thinking of playing spin the bottle! Now that I can't burn people it would be fun to play-" She gives you puppy dog eyes. You feel bad for Karlach, you really do. A victim to Zariel, and now to her infernal engine, you can tell she just wants to be hugged and loved. You hug her, grinning. She grips you back tightly, sighing into your arms.

"Let's gather the others! Can't wait for the inevitable Lae'zel and Shadowheart kiss." You both laugh. You let go of each other and rally the others. You manage to get Lae'zel, Shadowheart, Gale, Wyll, Karlach, Astarion to join you near the campfire. Even Halsin decides to join, after you ask him sweetly. You're all sitting in a circle, with Halsin to your left and Astarion on your right. Gale is sitting directly infront of you, and you catch his gaze more than once. You decide that if anyone asks, the blush is not from the handsome wizard, but the booze. Yeah that'll work, you think to yourself.

"Can't wait to kiss you, sweetheart." Astarion tells you. You roll your eyes, taking a sip of a new bottle of wine.

"Get in line, fangs." Karlach tells him, smirking at you. You laugh at her words.

"Alright, alright. Let's get to kissing!" You smirk at everyone. After a minute of downing the bottle in your hand, you empty it and put it in the center of the circle.

"Now that little alchy finished drinking, who wants to spin first?" Astarion speaks up, smirking at your companions. With enthusiasm, Karlach shouts.

"ME ME ME!" You chuckle at her reaction, and give her the go-ahead. You watch her buzzing in her seat as she spins the bottle. It does one, two, three spins before landing on Wyll. They look at eachother, eyes wide.

"Oh shit-" Karlach whispers. The whole circle starts chanting, and after a minute of tense stillness they kiss. You all cheer, laughing and smiling. Then they don't let go, still kissing. The cheering gets louder,

"Oh gods, split it up." Astarion says, fake gagging. They split, gasping. Both of them are blushing, and you smirk.

"Had fun?" You tease them. They look away from each other, realizing the implications of their kiss.

"Alright, now Wyll's gotta spin!" You tell them, grinning. Wyll shuffles closer to the bottle, watching it spin until it lands on Halsin. You gasp, before cheering. Their kiss was quick, but you could tell Halsin was in control. He chuckles as they part, and Wyll sits back down. Halsin spins the bottle, and it spins for a solid ten seconds until it lands on Shadowheart.

"Now this will be interesting." Astarion whispers into your ear. You giggle into your hand, nodding. Your eyes split from Halsin and Shadowheart to see Gale watching you and Astarion's closeness with a frown. Before you could give him a look, you hear cheering. Your eyes glance back at Halsin, who pulls Shadowheart onto his lap and grips her tightly as they are kissing. Your eyes widen, lips parting.

"Oh." After a minute, they split, panting. Shadowheart stands from his lap, her legs left unstable from the powerful kiss. She fans herself for a second before spinning the bottle. It barely does a full turn before it lands on Lae'zel. You start laughing loudly.

"Absolutely not." She says loudly, already reaching for the bottle.

"Hey! No respins!" Karlach says, eyebrows furrowed. Shadowheart huffs. Lae'zel hasn't spoken up, just watching Shadowheart's plight with a grin.

"Fine. But watch yourself, githyanki. I will not hesitate to end you if there's any funny business." Lae'zel rolls her eyes, before pulling Shadowheart into a passionate kiss. Everyone's jaws drop as they kiss, all their verbal fights (and some physical, mind you) seemingly have turned into sexual tension. Lae'zel pulls Shadowheart into her, before pushing her under her. After hearing someone moan, you decide to cut it out.

"Okay, stop! Holy hells, if you're gonna do that do it in the privacy of your own damn tent." You tell them, grimacing at the sounds coming from them. Without a word, Lae'zel picks up Shadowheart and walks away from the circle. You guffaw, before turning back to the other companions, eyes wide.

"Um-" Astarion cuts you off, smirking.

"Alright! Since they left its my turn!" He claps, before spinning the bottle. It lands on you, and you groan.

"Come here, sweetheart." He whispers. As he closes his eyes, you give him a quick peck and turn away before he could wonder what happened.

"That was hardly a kiss!" He shouts, crossing his arms.

"Oh, boo hoo Astarion." You tell him, laughing. You spin the bottle. It does one, two, three, four turns, before it lands on the object of your attentions. Gale's eyes widen, and he freezes up.

"Pucker up wizard, it'll be done before you know it." Astarion sulks from beside you. You crawl towards him, blush deepening. When you get into his personal space, you sit down on your haunches and get comfortable. His hand goes to the side of your face, while the other goes to your waist. Your arms wrap around his neck and you meet in the middle.

This kiss was unlike any other you had in your life. The world around you disappeared, sounds muffled. All you could feel was Gale and his magical essence. You became tuned to one another, magic flowing freely between you both. His hands move around, the one on your hip going to the small of your back and pulling you closer, as the one that was holding your face goes to the back of your neck to hold you to him. Your lips open when his tongue traces the seam of your lips. Your tongues battle for dominance, and you moan into his mouth. That seems to snap him out of the trance, and he separates from you. You can see his deep blush, and he gets up and runs off. Your eyes follow him, and you furrow your brows.

"If he ran away because of your kissing skills, maybe I should be grateful you only gave me a peck." Astarion says. Your eyes snap back to his.

"My kissing isn't the problem. I'll go check on him." You get up, dusting the dirt off your legs and walking towards his tent. When you turn around, to glance at your companions, you see Karlach and Wyll cheering on Astarion and Halsin as they kiss. You roll your eyes and look forward, going into a jog so you could reach Gale's tent sooner.

When you get to his tent, you cough outside so he can hear you. You hear him mutter a "come in" so you enter slowly. When you enter his tent, your eyes widen. Its larger on the inside, and looks homely. There are towers of tomes and books, some old and some new, and your eyes are taking in the beauty of the bigger-on-the-inside tent that reflects Gale's personality. When your eyes stop wandering, you notice Gale sitting on the edge of his large bed, hands holding his head as he sits dejected.

"I wanted to check in on you." You tell him quietly, walking closer to him. He sighs, and looks up at you.

"I'm sorry-" You reach him in two short strides, and kneel so you are below him. His eyes follow your movements, and you see the sorrow and sadness lurking in his beautiful brown eyes.

"You never need to apologize to me Gale. Are you okay?" You ask him softly. He sighs again, frowning.

"I'm not." He says quietly. You know he's upset, by the succinctness of his words.

"You can always tell me what's wrong. You know I care about you-all of you." You save yourself at the last moment. Now's probably not the time to admit your feelings, especially when he doesn't seem receptive to your advances.

"I'm just-" He exhales loudly. "You're not the issue here, (Y/N). I am. Everything I have done, everything I do, was for her. Now I feel lost, between the bomb inside my chest and the tadpole in my head, I feel as though I have no control over anything." Your hands gently takes one of his, holding him softly.

"You are the most talented wizard I have ever met, Gale of Waterdeep. You have control over everything, more than most of us." He shakes his head, eyes getting misty.

"You're wrong, you know. I have lost favour with my goddess, and have lost control over my emotions it seems. I just ran away from you and you still check in on me. Gale's Folly, I once named my demise. But it seems everything I do adds to my torment, and it affects others." You go to deny him but he cuts you off. He turns to the side, looking in the distance.

"I have always known my purpose, since I was young. Hone my powers, control the weave. Serve my goddess. The universe that was once kind to me has turned against me, against my reverence for Mystra. I was cursed, am cursed. In the deepest darkest shadows of my folly, I met you. A sorcerer who I respect and admire greatly. Now I am destined to lose that too-" You grip his hand tightly.

"You have not lost me yet, Gale." You whisper gently to him. His face snaps back to yours, his eyes searching yours for the truth. All he sees is your honesty and admiration.

"I do not deserve you." He whispers, shedding a tear. You wipe the tear away, holding his face.

"It is I who does not deserve you, Gale. You've been hurt, badly. I would never expect anything from you more than what you are ready to tell me. You must know how important you are to us, to me." He looks down at his lap, pondering.

"I've always felt the need to do anything to serve Mystra. Even sacrifice the deepest parts of myself for her, if she had asked. Many times, she had. But you; you ask nothing more from me. You give without taking, and I don't understand how you think I am deserving of your kindness." He whispers.

"Gale. You are magnificent. I care about you, more than I care for the others. Ever since I pulled you out of that portal I knew that you'd be someone I'd care for. Since then, all I've done is fallen more for you. You don't need to reciprocate any feelings, but you have to know how much someone cares for you- I care for you. You are worth much more than Mystra has ever given you credit for." His eyes snap back to yours, widening at your words.

"I did not realize-" You cut him off gently, the hand on his face squeezing slightly.

"I was afraid to say anything. I understand your trepidation regarding your situation. If I was in your position I would have given up long ago. But please, please do not think for a moment you are not worthy of love. You are kind, good of heart and deserving of more than most of us in camp." He pulls you into a hug. Your arms find themselves around him, squeezing him tightly. Your head finds itself in the crevice of his neck, inhaling his scent of old books and hazelnut; a scent you could only describe as Gale.

"I'm sorry. I do care about you, deeply. I have not felt such a way since Mystra, but sitting here with you now, I have never felt such acceptance and understanding. I'm afraid of what darkness the future holds, but it does not seem as dim if you are there with me." He tells you into your ear. You sigh, nudging your nose deeper into his neck. You leave a soft kiss on the side of his neck before pulling away.

"I'll help you rid yourself of the Netherese Orb, and then the parasite. You are not alone." His hands grip the sides of your face.

"I can never feel alone when I'm with you." He pulls you into a kiss, and the adoration he feels for you translates in the movement of his lips. You kiss him softly, before pulling away.

"I do not want to take advantage of you when you are feeling so low." You gaze at him, admiring his looks. His eyes, long dried from the tears, shine in the light of his tent.

"I want to be here with you. No advantages are being taken. Please-" He pleads, begging for you. You bite your lip, and his eyes follow the action. He rushes forward, sliding off the side of the bed and kneels in front of you. He pulls you into a kiss, desperation and need coursing through his blood. You moan against his soft lips, all worries and fears dissipating into the night air. He pulls away from you, panting.

"Those sounds... You're entire being... No magic can compare to your beauty." He whispers, his breath fanning against your lips. You blush under his gaze and words, unable to reply.

"I want to show you my love the way gods do, please let me." He tells you against your lips, kissing you again. Your hands cradle his neck, thumbs trailing up and down the column. You pull away again, shaking your head.

"I don't need magic, or gods. Not when I have you right here infront of me." He pulls away, a deep blush on his face. You notice that it goes down his neck, reaching his chest; as well as the tips of his ears, which are also tinged crimson at your words.

"Are you sure? I can make you feel things, see things.... experience things beyond your wildest imaginations-" You cut him off, pouting.

"You already make me feel those things, Gale. Can't I have the man in front of me? I am no goddess, and you needn't seek my approval. You already have it." He nods, before taking your hands and pushing you forward so you're laying against the floor. His fingers link with yours and pull them above your head. You're panting, breasts heaving and grazing his own chest. His gaze trails from your features down to your neck, then further down to your chest.

"Gods. Seeing you in such a state makes me reconsider if I am truly cursed. You're ambrosial." His face goes to your neck, peppering kisses and licks up and down. You moan again, your arousal climbing higher. Your hips begin to grind the air, praying for solace, pleading for his touch. He bites down on you, blunt teeth tickling your skin. You gasp out, back arching so your bodies are fully touching.

"Please, please Gale." You whimper, eyes closed and lips parted.

"What do you need, my love?" He asks you huskily, still licking and kissing your neck.

"I need you." You wail out, eyes watering from his teasing.

"Not as much as I need you, my sweet." With a wave of his hand, both your clothes dissipate. His eyes wander, admiring your body. Your hands go to his chest, caressing the hair there. For a moment, your fingers hover over the tattoo, before touching it with such gentleness. He exhales at your touch, eyes closing while your hands wander. Your hands go to his shoulders where they caress the tense muscle there. He smiles before opening his eyes, adoration shining in them.

"You are a goddess." You squirm under his words, blushing deeply. His hands start to caress the sides of your torso, going up to your breasts. His thumbs start rubbing against your peaks, the rough texture of his fingers making you whimper. Your hands squeeze his shoulders, as you look at him pleadingly.

"Gale, don't tease me." His eyes glace up to your face, as he lowers himself closer to your chest.

"Don't worry my sweet sorcerer, I'll make sure this night is magical." His lips take in one of your nipples, as he begins to suck and bite. You gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders. As he worships your nipple, his other hand begins to play roughly with the other one. His empty hand waves, and a mage hand appears and takes both your wrists in its mystical grasp, placing them above your head like Gale had done moments before. He moves to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment.

You whimper under his actions, panting and arching into him. One of his hands trails down to the apex of your thighs, and begins to caress your core. You exhale loudly through your nose as you bite your lip, groaning. He comes off of your chest with a pop! and grins at you.

"My sweet, are you this wet for me? Can't wait to spread you open and taste you for myself-" His hands spread your legs as far as you can go, as he lowers down. You feel his breathe on your core. For a moment, nothing happens, but then he summons two more mage hands to hold your thighs open as he begins to taste you.

His tongue licks the side of your thighs, as he places open mouthed kisses on your hot skin. He does this for a minute, just worshipping your skin, and then he licks up your core. He moans into you as he tastes your slick, eyes closing.

"Ambrosial, just as I suspected-" He opens his eyes and looks at you as you watch him attentively. "I can't wait to taste you until I bring you to other planes of existence." He attacks your pussy with fervor, licking and prodding at you. His ambidextrous tongue works wonders on you, he spreads you open further with his fingers, as he brings his tongue into you. You gasp at the intrusion, hands struggling against the grip of the mage hand, wishing to push him further into you. As he continues to taste you, his concentration wavers and the mage hands dissipate. Your hands latch into his dark curly locks, tugging at him as you continuously plea don't stop. He chuckles into your skin, as he pulls away.

"I won't stop worshipping you until the end of the night, my beloved. I promised you magic, and you'll take it like a good girl." You whimper at his words, slick leaving you. He licks it up from the source, moaning into your skin. As he goes to take your clit into his mouth, two of his thick fingers caress at your entrance before going in to the hilt and curling upwards. You caterwaul at the attention, hands gripping his locks tighter. He licks and sucks at your clit, fingers pistoning in and out of you. You feel your nirvana quickly approaching.

"G-Gale I'm close, so so close. Please-" You beg him, eyes closed. He hums against your clit as he curls his fingers curve upwards. You've hit your peak, back arching into the sky and thighs tightening against his head. You see explosions of colours behind your eyelids, and your body is weightless for many moments. As you come back from your high, you open your eyes to see Gale admiring your face; his fingers lazily pumping into you. You clench around his fingers as you pant, eyes still unfocused.

"O-oh-" You whisper, head hitting the floor as you close your eyes to try to get your bearings. Gale chuckles at you as he removes his fingers from you, tasting your spend on his skin. As your breathing gets back to normal, you open your eyes again to gaze at Gale.

"I want to please you-" He cuts you off, picking you up off the floor with relative ease and depositing you onto the bed.

"If you do that I know I will not be able to please you as long as I'd like." He tells you honestly as he licks his lips. You surge forward, capturing his mouth against yours. You can still taste yourself on his tongue, and it excites you further. Your legs lock around his waist and pull him into you, his cockhead bumping into your clit. You split from each other, admiring one another.

"Take what you want from me, Gale of Waterdeep." He moans at your words, and grasps his cock in his hand.

"You don't know how you affect me, (Y/N). Your words, your scent, your taste. I can't wait to take you and make you mine." As he speaks, he thrusts into you in one quick motion, bottoming out inside of you. You both gasp, the connection unlike any other you had ever experienced in your life.

"Please make me yours Gale. I'll be anything you want, do anything you want. Just make me yours." He begins to thrust into you, his pace rough and deep. He continues to hit that spot, and you feel your orgasm coming again.

"I'm s-so close." You whisper into his ear, kissing the side of his face. He turns and pulls you back into a passionate kiss. He pulls your legs over his shoulders, and you feel his tip kiss your cervix. You gasp against his lips, panting.

"That's right, sweetheart. Let go-" His words bring you to your crest, and you babble as your brain short circuits. As you reach your peak, he does as well, moaning out your name against the column of your neck. His hips stutter to a stop as he releases inside of you, the clenching of your pussy too much for him. He collapses onto you, kissing your neck and whispering sweet nothings to you. After a moment, you pull him into a gentle kiss, savouring the moment with him.

"You are perfect." He whispers to you as you part. Your hand caresses the side of his face.

"You are the perfect one. I hope I can spend the rest of this journey reminding you." You tell him softly. He closes his eyes, smiling at your words.

"How can I ever consider myself less than when I am in your embrace?" You blush, pulling him into a hug. After a moment, he gets up, getting a cloth to clean your mixed spend from between your thighs. Once he deems you clean, he lays back down next to you. You spend the rest of the night cuddling, hushed words of love and appreciation to one another.

The End.

[newtkive]

pixels [ newt x reader - modern text au ]

ch. 2 - drama queen core

summary: minho's drama finally catches up with him, but newt becomes a hero.

warnings: strong language, mutual pining, none really.

➥ m.list

__

THE GLADE

[ 12:08 PM ]

y/n: gm pookies

newt: it’s the afternoon.

y/n: yeah well

ur east coast

newt: so are you y/n

y/n: FINE BAD MORNING THEN ARE U HAPPY?

minho: drama queen is awake

newt: you’re the drama queen min let’s be fr

minho: u want me to die be honest

newt: see .

tommy: hey guys :3 been waiting for you all

y/n: awwww tommy <3 gm

tommy: morning sweetums

minho: ew stop

newt: how did you sleep?

tommy: good! used my new heated pillow

newt: not you

minho: not you

tommy: wtf

WHO THEN?? THERES LIKE 7 OTHER PPL IN HERE

minho: he means y/n

and there’s 4 other people not including newt and y/n dumbass

y/n: oh

why just me????

newt: cuz you stayed up til 6 am

y/n: ..

how do you know that

newt: i saw you were active on discord

gally: doesn’t that mean you were awake too then

newt: ok and?

minho: thats crazy newt

newt: no it isn’t

i just casually saw it

y/n: hehe

im ok i need to sleep more. sims 4 was really consuming me

why were you awake??

newt: up for work

minho: you get on discord before work?

chronically online..

newt: can you choke and pass out and hit your head please

minho: THE WAY U WANT ME DEAD IS INSANE

y/n: he’s gotta check on his discord hoes before hitting the grind

newt: there are no discord hoes

unless you count thomas

and i don’t

tommy: well why not

newt: because you disgust me

tommy: love u too :3<3

minho: y’all about to kiss aren’t you

newt: never say that shit again im outside your door with a b*mb

minho: why censor it

just blow me up it’s my grandmas house anyway. u want to jump her that bad????

gally: blow that bitch up i say

y/n: HELLO???!,!!

gally: minho not grandma

she loves me cuz im so tall

minho: tall people always gotta remind you they’re tall 😒

like we get it bigfoot

gally: shut up tinkerbell

y/n: you’re somewhat tall minho

minho: any man under 6’0 is considered short

y/n: yeah but newt is 6 ft trapped in a 5’10 body so not totally true

newt: what does that even mean

minho: give me a break

i can tell you exactly what that means

she wanna hit

newt: stop

tommy: don’t get his hopes up

newt: dude

stfu

y/n: what newt said

gally: can we appreciate the only one actually over 6 ft here

minho: no.

tommy: im the same height as newt!!!!

y/n: yea but ur like 3 ft trapped in a 5’10 body tommy not the same

tommy: oh ..

minho: kind of real

newt: can someone kick gally i’m tired of seeing his fucking name on my phone

gally: then turn your phone off don’t you have old ladies to tend to at the library

newt: yeah and they all love me

y/n: so real

if i was old i’d go in there and imagine you’re my young boyfriend and cling to everything u say

tommy: true im the old ladies

y/n: LMAO

minho: write a fanfic y/n why don’t you

newt: yeah you both are old and not beating the dementia allegations

y/n: IM THE YOUNGEST HERE

ur just mad you’re old as dirt

tommy: youth has left you newt and it has turn you bitter in your old age.

minho: thomas knows big words who knew

newt: which word in that sentence was big??

y/n: shut up minho

minho: wtf did i do

y/n: idk but i imagine you sitting there typing on your little phone and i got pissed

minho: WHAT???!.‘wKWHFO

newt: LMAOOOOOOOOOOO

yeah chubby little fingers hitting the wrong letters on his iphone 8

minho: im leaving

tommy: dont leave i forgive you for what you said

minho: i don’t give a damn

y’all mad y’all are all fake im the realest i’ve been prophesizing and reading scriptures 7000 years before y’all fake asses were born be so for real right now

y/n: not reading that

congrats

or sorry for what happened idk

about to drink my coffee in a wine glass

tommy: just drink wine

newt: it’s noon tommy??

tommy: ok and?

newt: explains a lot

minho: no coffee for me this new year only water and pussy juice fr fr

[ newt removed minho from the group ]

tommy: woah

y/n: woah..

newt: i can’t take it anymore

alby: How did you get that access..?

newt: don’t worry about it

in times of need i have to step in like that

y/n: hi alby!

alby: Hey y/n!

tommy: you’re such a hero newt

gally: that was deserved

who wants to play minecraft rn

y/n: me!!

alby: I’ll play, I’m off work today.

y/n: let’s go to the desert i want a camel

gally: alright but then the caves after i wanna mine

newt: if you mine with her you gotta bring extra food and storage when she dies so you can pick up the fallen items

gally: i forget you’re her designated babysitter

y/n: oh please no he isn’t

and i’ll bring my own food

newt: you always say that and then leave it in the stove oven

y/n: WELL I WONT THIS TIME

newt: sure ok

i’ll get on after work

[ alby added minho to the group ]

minho: when i get you.

newt: why did you add him back alby

alby: He was harassing me.

newt: be a man and take it

gally: im leaving

[ gally left the group ]

minho: im going to throw up and die

newt: im staying out of this

minho: (guy who caused it) im staying out of this

y/n: why does gally alwyas leave 😔

newt: why question a gift from the heavens

tommy: get online y/n gally is attacking my dirt house w a pickaxe :((((

y/n: NO IM COMING

minho: im coming to your work newt

newt: okay im locking the door early then

minho: i’ll smash through the glass idc

newt: i’m leaving my shift is over at 1 today.

minho: i’ll use life360 on you

newt: i deleted that app

minho: i’ll stand in the middle of the street

newt: ok let me position my car in front of you

just come to my apartment and we can play w them on pc and xbox

minho: …. fine but i hate your guts

newt: fine

y/n: HURRY GALLY IS ATTACKING MY SHED NOOOOWWW

newt: i’ll just rebuild it

minho: i’ll set it on fire just wait

[schoenpepper]

'Til Someone Gets Hurt (Mean Girls the Musical)

Intro: You play a game with Floyd Leech. At the end of it all, you both get hurt.

Warnings: bad writing, awful grammar, not proofread, high schoolers doing things high schoolers should not be doing, do not imitate, Floyd Leech comes with a warning of his own, google translated French, bad words

A/N: Don't mind me just casually vaguely mentioning my oc see if you can spot 'em huehuehue

Masterlist

Yes, I look perfect

Ice Queen, that's what you see

It's what they all expect from me

But it's all show!

Go to school, they said. It'll be fun, they said. You're so gorgeous you definitely won't have a hard time fitting in with everyone, they said. You think to yourself as you jot down notes on paper, that if you ever found out who "they" were, you would push them out a window and watch them fall splat on the pavement into nothing but what was previously a meat puppet. Your eye catching good looks didn't mean shit back when you were being homeschooled by your parents in Africa, but Coral Shore High is not nearly as subtle in its staring as the monkeys and lions you used to talk to. You feel too many eyes on you and it makes you grip your pen tighter and wish to stab them all out one by one.

You thought humans had more decorum.

The fucking parakeets had more etiquette, that's for sure. Especially when you're making your way to the cafeteria and some girl trips (a little too obviously) right into your arms. She's all blushy and fidgety when you gently push her upright on the ground, and she thanks you and offers her number.

"Oh." You say with a blank stare. "We didn't have phones back in Africa."

"I could teach you if you—"

"Sorry, I don't have a phone."

With that beautifully blatant lie, you walk off to line up in the canteen to grab a tray of food, surprisingly more edible than movies portrayed high school food to be. You stand still and scout out which table is most optimal, and end up getting flagged down by some tall, champagne blond hottie with purple tips in his hair. He's definitely at least as attractive as you, so you think that he won't be slobbering all over you like the guys you sat with yesterday. It only takes a few steps for some wall to bump into you, teal hair and mismatched eyes and muscle and sharp teeth, leering down at you for only a second before marching off.

"Watch where you're walkin', shrimpy."

You don't appreciate the nickname, but you ignore it and go sit down next to the beautiful blond man. It's your lucky day because Vil Schoenheit is a model, full on desensitized from faces like yours. And he feels like a naggy mother with the way he grills you over your choice in food. He's kind, but it's hidden behind words so sharp they could stab you right in the gut. Rook Hunt is another handsome blond, if not a little unsettling when he fawns over your beauty in mixed French, and he gives off similar vibes to poachers your parents used to ward off in the savana. Epel Felmier is more cutesy than Vil's regal brilliance or Rook's off-putting handsomeness, but he threatens to throw hands when you say he's pretty.

Well, maybe you can fit in, after all.

Face it, you used me

You saw the sexy clothes

My supermodel pose

What did you know?

You should have stayed with the pretty trio instead wandering on your own. In your defense, you were just walking to class and minding your own business. Except, said class is in a building with the entire football field across the one you were in, and said football field has, regrettably, the football team playing on it. You feel nothing but disgust when the wolf whistles reach you, and absolute abhorrence when three guys with very punchable faces approach you with sly smirks, the rest of the team watching on.

"Hey sexy. You look like you could use some lovin'~"

You roll your eyes and keep walking. Surely, this is a clear enough sign of your disinterest, yes?

"Oh, playin' hard to get. That's hot."

"You're cute when you're mad."

"Baby, you wanna skip class with us and—"

You give them your best, and most charming smile.

Rook taught you that everyone deserves to see beauty before they feel excruciating pain. And you're sure, when your knee meets three different pairs of balls in succession, that the rest of the team sharply takes in a breath. "You wanna have more fun, boys?" You drawl lazily with a soft grin. "I have a little bit of time to play with you."

They don't answer as they curl up on the grass in pain. Satisfied with your handywork,  you go back to walking to your calculus class.

You don't notice trouble, but he notices you.

"Are you interested in them?" Jade asks, clad in comfortable casual clothes while sat on the bleachers as he hands Floyd a bottle of water. Floyd laughs and eyes his three teammates who were struggling to get back up. And then, inevitably, back to you. "See Jade, I thought it was just another shrimp. But now I think they're more like a sting ray." He licks his lips. "That's fun. I like fun. I wanna try 'em."

Jade chuckles along with him.

Was I a game to you?

Was I a way to be cool?

I truly cared

Was I the fool?

"You hooked up with who, now?"

Vil's gaze has a way of making you feel like every decision you've ever done is stupid. To be fair to him, however, this one certainly is. You grimace and take a sip of your energy drink, pointing at one of the guys practicing on the basketball court. Floyd shoots a three-pointer and grins your way, flexing his shoulders so that the scratch marks you'd left last night peek out of his jersey.

"How in the world are you so infuriating?! Do you know who that is?"

"I mean, I was drunk." You sigh. Vil looks at you like a disappointed parent while Epel and Rook look at you in shock. "Besides, it's just a hookup. I don't even have his number, I'll probably never talk to him again."

"Then why are we here at your behest?"

You feel your cheeks flush. "Because I wanted to watch basketball?"

Even you know your excuse is shitty, but it's not as if you could tell the trio to their faces that last night felt good and Floyd was really right up your alley and your hands missed the feel of his abs, right? The man seems really in the mood today as he effortlessly makes another shot, making you clap your hands slowly. You stop when you see the three glaring at you. "You certainly have a unique eye for beauté." Rook says lightly, and you're pretty sure he's just saying you have bad taste. "Floyd Leech, twin to Jade Leech, part of football, basketball, swimming, and volleyball, an athletic superstar with a rather dreary disciplinary track record erased by his parents. He's left handed, has had at least four previous relationships, has almost beat someone to death twice, and spent the night in juvie just before his eleventh birthday."

"Rook, how do you even know all of that?"

Rook smiles and puts a finger to his lips. "That is a secret. Still, he is not exactly a prime choice for a partner. May I interest you in some other options?"

"You may not." You sigh.

"Well, if Y/N says it was just a hookup, then it's probably the end of it." Epel smiles softly, and you almost feel guilty when you nod with him. Right before you get in your car to drive home, you get a text from Floyd.

[Floydie: my team totally saw ur marks on my back hehe]

[Floydie: u should do it again sometime jellyfishie]

It's fine for you

It's fine to flirt

It's fine

'Till someone gets hurt

'Till someone gets hurt!

You know it's just a game.

He knows it's just a game.

You're two high schoolers making high school mistakes, and you take it all in stride when you let him into your house. Your parents are off somewhere so you don't need to worry about getting caught, but what you do have to worry about is Floyd finding some weird house ornaments your parents love and playing with them. "Floyd! Stop it, that's not a toy." You take the vase from his hands and put it back on the counter. "If you touch another delicate item in this house that you could very well break I will kick you out, do you understand me?"

"Okay chill, clownfish. I won't touch."

"Good." You sigh in relief and lead him up the stairs to your bedroom. Is it a good idea to let your booty call into your home? Probably not. But there's a calculus exam tomorrow that Floyd hadn't studied for, and Jade warned that if he fails, he'll get suspended from all his sports until he can get his grades back up. You didn't know what that had to do with you, but Floyd insists you tutor him or he won't get you laid while he's suspended.

Rude.

"What about this one?" He points at another question on the textbook. The two of you are sitting on the floor, comfortably leaning on each other with your tiny study table propped up on the rug. You glance at the equation and point to the notebook in your hands. "That one is similar to—Floyd." You hiss out a warning when you feel his hand crawling up your thigh. "We're supposed to be studying, remember?"

He giggles, tracing his finger on the hem of your shorts. "But that's boring, right? Let's have some fun."

"No, Floyd, what if you fail your exam?"

He leans in closer to you. As his lips find yours, he pushes the study table away and your notebook along with it. "I lied to you, you know?"

"There's no calculus exam?" You huff.

"There is~ But I don't need your help to pass." He's toeing the lines you set, nudging your boundaries in his favor. "I just wanted to see your home! And your bed...and maybe you naked on it..."

You don't fight back when his hands are moving up underneath your shirt, only rolling your eyes and muttering under your breath. "This better be good, Floydie. And you better help do my laundry tomorrow."

He laughs again.

Feel my heart beating

I'm just like her or you

People forget I'm human too

Yes, they do that

Vil shouldn't have told you to join the cheer team, and he certainly shouldn't have forced you to wear the cheer uniform in the ungodly colors it has. You give him an unimpressed look, tugging on the edge of your crop top. "I look like a glowing neon sign at the door of a strip club. Or a toxic mushroom. Or a hallucination of someone who's high off Everclear and cocaine." You didn't think anyone would ever be crazy enough to pair traffic cone orange and cyan together, but somehow, the cheerleading outfit proves you wrong.

"It's...atrocious, yes." Vil nods.

You're shocked he has the audacity to agree with you when his cheer outfit is dark blue and cyan, an actually cohesive color combination.

"Ne t'inquiète pas, Y/N. You are beauté!"

You don't want to look at Rook who's sporting a neon green and orange crop top and skirt combo.

"Y'all look ridiculous." Epel drawls in his casualwear, pushing his hands into his hoodie pockets as he looks at the way the three of you are dressed.

You and the rest of the cheer squad are called to the field before the players arrive, performing a few routines to rally the audience. You don't really think you have anything to fear considering your school's football team is the best one in the state (and Floyd's probably left at least one person from each team they've ever played against a healthy dose of trauma), so all your focus is more on trying not to blind yourself whenever you catch a glimpse of Rook from your periphery. As you'd expected, the game is won all too easily with your booty call seemingly in just the right mood, and he runs towards you happily, spinning you around in his arms while your friends watch on in distaste and disappointment.

"Floyd, put me down!"

"Nuh uh, mandarinfish, you look so cute!" He smiles at you as he carries you. You sit on one shoulder and watch him celebrate with his teammates, grinning up at you occasionally. You give up trying to get back down.

"Did you cheer for me?"

In the football team's empty locker room, when everyone else is out in some diner ordering milkshakes as a trophy, you have one leg up Floyd's shoulder as the other one shakily wobbles to try and keep you upright. He's laughing at you but steadying you by the waist, squeezing the skin exposed by the uniform. "So flexible, hm~?"

"Floydie, fuck, stop teasing!"

He drinks in your whimpers and giggles. His hips roll against yours in a fluid, familiar motion, and the thin fabric you're wearing is not enough to stop the feeling.

"If you weren't cheering my name before, I'll make sure you scream it out now, okay?"

This is performance

This is all self defense

I thought you had the sense

To see through that

[Floydie💙: bettafish wer u at]

[Floydie💙: if u come to the party w some other dude istfg]

[Floydie💙: 😠]

Your first Halloween party starts off with a series of angry texts from your friend with benefits (you tell yourself you like him platonically, enough times for it to stick to your head). You chuckle and shoot him back a reply before going back to staring at yourself in the mirror. "I feel like this kind of costume should be illegal." You say to your friends waiting outside the curtain. You don't think white and green underwear with plastic robo wing attachments and silver boots count as a 'costume', much less clothing, but you have to admit that Vil's taste is still impeccable even when it concerns slutty halloween outfits.

It makes you look super fucking hot.

Not that you weren't already, but you're sure if he sees you like this, he'll drag you into an empty room and eat you like a free-for-all buffet. Not that you mind.

"Well? At least come out and show us."

You don't want to annoy the queen bee, so you step outside in your sacrilegious Buzz Lightyear mockup and turn around so they can inspect it. Vil gives an approving nod, Epel claps with an amazed expression on his face, and Rook spouts off some soliloquy about your beauty. You admire their equally slutty halloween fits; Vil dressed as Suicide Squad Margot Robbie's Harley Quinn, Rook looking like a cowboy stripper, and Epel as... why is he dressed in a giant inflatable apple costume? You shake your head and ignore the elephant (epelphant) in the room. "Anyway, this party's not really all that important, but Neige insisted we be there." Vil scoffs. "And he better have his jaw dropped to the floor with how much hotter I am than he is."

That's what he says, but upon pulling up to the party and thirty minutes later, he's less 'preening like a peacock' and more 'getting some cute guy's tongue shoved down so far his throat it probably reaches his esophagus as said cute guy is practically rutting into him in the hallway'. You swear you've never seen this guy in your life, but Rook assures you that Vil knows what he's doing (which you do not doubt) and pushes you along as you try to find Floyd in the sea of illegally drunk high schoolers. You assume a six foot hunk of muscle wouldn't be too hard to find, but you struggle for ten minutes and decide to just give up and text him.

[You: where tf are u]

[Floydie💙: thats what ive been asking dhfjk]

[Floydie💙: did u just get here]

[You: no i was watching vil get it on with some dude]

[Floydie💙: ew gross get ur ass to the second floor first room on the right]

When you get there, you find Floyd in a low effort zombie costume, sitting on the rails of the balcony with his legs swinging. He gives you a smirk and pats the space next to him. "You look real nice. C'mere." You sit next to him, making sure your plastic wings don't accidentally push him off the edge. "Whose house is this anyway? How did they get permission to throw a party this big?" You ask as you lean against his shoulder. His arm wraps around you and pulls you closer to himself. You find your legs swinging in the same pattern as his.

"Some guy."

"Not important?"

"No."

You chuckle at his words. You find him looking up at the stars, so you do the same. "The light pollution in the city's made the sky a little worse." You mumble softly. "In the savanna, the skies were always so clear. You could see every star shining brightly when it's night."

"That sounds real nice."

"It was."

"I wanna see it someday." Floyd hums. "With you."

You close your eyes and push his words out of your mind.

Was I too proud with you?

Was I too cold and forbidding?

And you chose her over me

Are you kidding?

Are you kidding?

The game's gone on for too long.

Your fuck buddy, somehow, is sitting next to you in the cafeteria. For two weeks now. Azul is at the head of the table, Vil is on the other head, Rook and Epel are on one side while you, Jade, and Floyd sit on the other. They all seem to be getting along well enough, and even Vil, who's always been against your less than stellar taste in men, seemed numb enough to the sight of Floyd practically sprawled over your lap as he nudged another spoon of his homemade lunch against your lips. "Come on, sea star, another bite? Just another one, please, I worked real hard on it for my little sea star, y'know?" You're helpless at the sight of his puppydog eyes and eat what he's offering.

"Yay~"

"This is vomit inducing." You hear Azul mutter under his breath, and to be honest, you might be a little inclined to agree if you didn't enjoy Floyd's company so much. Of course, it doesn't end at one bite. As you've done in the past two weeks, you set aside your bought lunch (that scrappy guy in the volleyball team can handle it) and finish Floyd's bento. You used to feel bad for doing so, but you found out on the first day it happened that he actually brings two bento boxes so that he can feed you before he eats.

"Good sea star, next week you can just not buy lunch!" He pats your head happily, and you nod along.

Have you been too close to Floyd?

You wonder as you walk down the halls, waving and smiling at acquaintances who call out their greetings. You know he's here again when the people around you start to shy away, faces like they've seen a monster. You don't blame them, you know Floyd has a reputation for being rather violent, if not just a straight up bully.

You've just never experienced it.

Not when he's studying with you, going to your cheer practices and screaming your name, chatting with you about random things for hours, bringing you food he'd cooked by himself, giving you little trinkets he said reminded him of you...

Your heart tightens.

He's a better player than you thought.

His arm is wrapped around your shoulder as he chatters your ear off about how he and Jade are going on a hike on the weekend. You listen intently, nodding along all the way to the parking lot. He walks you to your car and even opens the door for you. Your mind blanks when he leans down to kiss you (it's sweet, it's tender, it's so weird but you don't care). You give him a smile and shut the door before driving away.

You have two days where Floyd will be out of town with no reception.

Two days to clear your head.

Two days to reset your boundaries with him.

You wonder if two days are enough to remind yourself the words he'd told you in the beginning of your arrangement.

"Don't go fallin' for me, 'kay? That's boring. I don't like boring. The moment you get boring, I'll drop ya', capiche?"

"What if you fall for me?"

"Hah? Ain'tcha funny? I don't fall."

Right. He doesn't fall. Even if all his actions right now make it seem like you two are dating, it's all a trap. And you like him a little too much to just end it right there. You'd rather be his contractual fling than be that one person who caught feelings in an fwb situation, wouldn't you?

Poor little me

All trapped in this fabulous show

You could set me free

But if you're going, go!

Go! Oh! Oh!

[Floydie💙🥰😚: seashell have you been avoiding me]

You know Floyd's serious when his texts aren't a mess of shortened words.

[You: no??? just been busy w that math comp training]

Your excuse is bulletproof. Sure the nerds in the 'mathletes' team drool over you occasionally, but it's a small price to pay in order to get your head on straight. Two days with no contact wasn't nearly enough. In fact, it only cemented the saying 'absence makes the heart grow fonder'; indeed, when Floyd was gone, you only missed him more and more. You think that one of these days, you might just make a mistake and tell him the truth. But the thing is, Floyd doesn't need your love.

Floyd doesn't want your love.

Instead of stuttering and stumbling about in front of him, you choose to run away from your problems. Whenever you have free time, you cover it up with math training and tutoring in preparation for the competition. When lunchtime rolls around, you tell your friends you need to be eating with your teammates in order to foster a sense of camaraderie and cooperation (bullshit). After school, you tell Floyd he'll only be a distraction if he studies with you, and you really need to study for that math competition.

In short, that math competition has been carrying most of the load of your excuses.

[Floydie💙🥰😚: when i find you im going to shove you in the janitors closet]

[You: thats bullying, floydie]

[Floydie💙🥰😚: nah seashell imma fuck you in there 🙂]

[You: threatening]

[Floydie💙🥰😚: not a threat its a promise]

You hope he doesn't find you, really. If only because you still can't control your stupid heart around him, and every glimpse you catch of him is infinitely expanded in your dreams. You watched him for a little while during volleyball practice, and you had a very shameful dream regarding the volleyball court, an audience, and Floyd pushing you up against the net.

You put your phone down when Professor Crewel calls for your attention.

"There are only three days left until the competition, pups, so I expect all of you to be on your best behavior."

There's also only three days left before the Spring Fling, meaning, you can't attend the formal that has the entire student body buzzing. You voted for Vil as Spring Fling Queen, obviously. And Spring Fling King. He was in both categories so you did as a good friend would do and voted for him in both categories, as well as helping Rook spread the word for everybody else to do the same. You look down at your practice booklet to see Crewel's bright red 'good pup' and a 100 next to it. You'd rather go compete anyway.

Floyd in a suit might just make you melt.

"You're really not going? Not even after the competition?"

In your room, you pinch your phone between your ear and your shoulder as you flip through a textbook. Vil's voice is elegant as ever even through the speakers. "Nope, sorry Vil. You know my situation."

"Oui! We understand, Y/N." Rook chuckles in the group call. "It must be quite difficult being caught like prey in the trap of love, non?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"What didja' say?!"

"Rook!" You hiss out, slamming your book close. "I am no such thing."

"Please, Y/N, you underestimate Rook's perceptiveness." Vil scoffs. "Explain."

You groan. "It's nothing, alright?"

"Non! It is not nothing. Our dear Y/N has fallen madly in love with that Floyd Leech and is now on a mission to erase their feelings in order not to get hurt. Oh, the beauté of amour jeune et douloureux."

"Rook, shut up!"

"Y/N, is it true?"

You purse your lips. It takes you a few seconds to answer. "And if it is?"

"Then you have really bad taste."

"Whatever. Just please, if he ever asks you guys about me, just say I'm in training."

"He has been asking about you."

"What did you say?"

"That you're busy."

You nod and sigh in relief. A message pops up in your screen.

[Floydie💙🥰😚: seashellllll]

[Floydie💙🥰😚: i miss u ☹️]

[You: haha]

You almost send an 'i miss u too'. You don't, though. Because you're smarter than that, aren't you?

[You: i'll see u after the comp ok]

[Floydie💙🥰😚: not if i hunt u down first 😠]

It's fine for you

It's fine to flirt

And God, you're hot

Why do you even wear a shirt?

It's fine!

Damn, you're fine.

Damn, you're mine!

You're really good at this hiding thing.

(Of course you are, or Floyd would've found out about your feelings for him ages ago.)

Three days pass all too easily and he never even catches a whiff of you. You win the ICMT State Final Championship (sponsored by no one), and as you sit in the back of the van with your teammates all rowdy in celebration around you, you take out your phone and take a look at your messages. You're not surprised it's mostly Floyd.

[Floyd: wer u at]

[Floyd: coral]

[Floyd: i thought u wer gonna b at the sf 😐]

[Floyd: is ur stupid comp not done yet or wat]

[Floyd: i cant dance the waltz thing w no partner yk]

[Floyd: like halfway done rn]

[Floyd: r u not seeing my messages coral]

[Floyd: jade just called me lovesick lmao tf does that even mean smh]

[Floyd: can u reply when u get my messages]

[Floyd: pls]

[Floyd: did u win]

[Floyd: go win ok]

[Floyd: do u also think im lovesick]

[Floyd: r u avoiding me cus u think im in love]

[Floyd: if i promise im not will u come back]

[Floyd: what do u want me to say]

[Floyd: im sorry coral 🥺]

[Floyd: it just happened]

[Floyd: pls reply]

[Floyd: i miss u sm]

[Floyd: im sorry]

You hear your heart breaking in your chest.

[You: im not avoiding u]

You walk into the auditorium in your 'Mathletes' shirt and jogging pants, a gold medal around your neck. You look very out of place in the ocean of sparkles and sequins, but Rook quickly waves you over with him and Epel. "The crowning is just about to start, you have incroyable timing!" You watch the nominees on the stage as Crowley reads out a script from a cue card. "And the winner for Spring Fling Queen is... Vil Schoenheit."

You clap along with everyone when the blonde walks onto the stage and gracefully accepts the crown.

"And the winner for Spring Fling King... is also Vil Schoenheit."

Everyone claps louder as Vil chuckles on the stage, placing the other crown on top of the first one. He now has two sashes crossing over each other with two large bouquets in his hands. The principal cancels the 'King and Queen first dance' portion and invites everyone to waltz. Even as you stick by Rook and Epel's sides, you can feel a familiar gaze on you following you through the dance floor.

"Y/N."

It's Jade.

"Hi. What's up?"

"My brother has been quite, hm, mopey, lately. Would you happen to know anything about that?" You shrug.

He doesn't seem to believe you, and his smile doesn't reach his eyes. You swear his entire aura darkens when he speaks again. "I really do like you Y/N, you've made my brother so happy, and he's always such a joyful figure whenever I see him cooking for you in the kitchen. However, he's been quite distraught as of late, with neither appetite nor cheer since you've begun avoiding him in the name of your competition. Now that said competition is over, congratulations by the way, it is in your best interest to talk your problems out with Floyd, wouldn't you agree?"

People always said Floyd was scarier. You wonder if you can record Jade as he is right now as evidence to disagree.

"Jade, we don't have problems, okay? Floyd and I just want different things." You take a small step back with both arms raised up. "I'm just respecting his boundaries."

"Is that so? Then pray tell, what is it that you want from Floyd that you believe he disagrees with?" He tilts his head, grinning toothily. "Is it that you only wish to remain in your contractual physical relationship? Even so, you could at least reject him outright, yes? What good would it do either of you if the only thing you do is run?"

"No! It's the opposite. He doesn't want an actual relationship. That's what he said. He said if I fall for him then it's over and Jade, I don't..." You gingerly tug at his sleeve, forcing your tears back. "I don't want to lose him. If the only way I can have him is by having a no-strings attached kind of thing, then that's fine. I'll talk to him again, just, when I've finally settled my feelings, okay? Please."

He looks shocked by your words. 

Jade sighs and plops you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You don't struggle (because it's pointless), and no one in the crowd bats an eye (Floyd may be seen as scarier, but that didn't mean Jade was weak or angelic). He deposits you to the door of the parking lot and heads back inside the party, waving you off with a few more words. "He's at his usual spot, probably whining to the moon about you. Do fix him up for me."

And it's fine!

'Till someone gets...

Hurt! Hurt!

'Till someone gets hurt!

'Till someone gets hurt!

It feels like a walk of shame when you head towards Floyd's favorite parking spot. You're pretty sure it was supposed to be for faculty members only, but you don't believe that principal Crowley has any sort of dignity left for him not to sell a faculty parking space to a well paying student (you don't want to know what the Leech parents do, not now at least). You spot him easy, laid down on the top of his jeep in a crisp suit and tie that looked like it was ironed right onto his body. He's murmuring things you can't understand, but you really don't believe that he's 'whining about you to the moon', as his twin had claimed.

You knock on the side of the car.

When he looks over at you, you give him a smile and reach your hand towards him. "Get me up, Floydie?" With his help, you climb onto the roof and sit down next to him. He's staring at the stars again, but he's never let your hand go even once.

"Why were you avoiding me?"

"I wasn't avoiding you."

"Stop lyin'."

You purse your lips. You're never sure what to do in moments like this, when he sheds all his playful mischief. He seems like a completely different person. Not bad. Just so... different. And he doesn't seem mad (you'd have an easier time if he was), but the conflicting feelings swirling within his skin escape through him and taint you too. You do what you're used to doing with him; get physical. You turn to straddle his lap and lean in closer to him. Your legs are propped up on either side of his own as he leans back on his arms, palms flat on the roof the two of you are sitting on.

Your fingers grip onto his tie, lightly tugging. "Floyd." You barely acknowledge one of his hands resting on the back of your thigh. "I've just been so confused lately. I want you in so many ways and what we have right now? It just doesn't cut it anymore. So tell me off, okay? Tell me you want me to leave. But if you want me to stay then, tell me that you like me. Tell me that you want me. Tell me you love me."

Will he say the words?

Probably not.

This on and off situationship leaves no room for genuine feelings between the both of you. But you make it clear to yourself that this is last time. He can't play with you any longer, and you won't toy with him anymore. And if he doesn't say what you want to hear, then you'll let him go. It's so easy you can't believe you didn't do it forever ago. You keep your eyes trained on his mismatched ones of gold and olive and, even though you know he'll let you down, your heart pitter patters in a rhythm you've heard before. Floyd seems to be thinking your words over as his thumb rubs small circles into the cloth of your pants. You wonder if he's taking this as seriously as you are. Can he see a life with you? Does the thought of settling down bore him?

You can't think about it. If you do, you lose.

Force yourself up into the higher position and gain the upper hand, because the man in front of you is a vulture circling overhead for signs of weakness. If he finds it, he might just tear you apart. "Y/N." There's an unprecedentedly serious look on his face as his slanted eyes bore into you like they're picking you apart and deciding which pieces of you are worthy of keeping. "The moon looks beautiful tonight, doesn't it?"

You laugh.

So many months of pining and hopeless romance-ing has lead to this. You don't hear what you want.

But it's practically the same thing.

It feels rather anticlimactic. But he's swallowed his pride and admitted his mistake, at least, in your eyes. And if this is the closest you can get to him, the closest he'll let you get to him, then it'll do for now.

"Floyd."

You tug him by his tie until his lips are brushing against your own.

"It's the most beautiful moon I've ever seen."

[vhagarlovebot]

hi gwen! hope you’re feeling better 🫶 i was wondering if i could request some aemond x betrothed!reader, where they ran into each other in the garden while she’s talking to someone and something nsfw follows? thanks!

pairing: aemond targaryen x fem!reader.

content warnings: 18+, angst, oral (f receiving), fingering.

note: i know you asked for a betrothed!reader but i didn’t noticed until i finished writing. also this was going to be really short but i wanted to give a little context… and this is the result. comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

YOU WOKE UP with the rays of sunlight coming through the window and immediately decided that you wouldn’t spend the day hiding in your chambers, sulking because a man doesn’t pay attention to you.

it cheered you up a little. but not even the beautiful gardens with the strong smell of roses and tall, ancient trees helped you forget the rude attitude of the prince toward you. the sea view brought you no comfort, either.

you feel like a fool and horribly embarrassed after prince aemond blatantly ignored you when you tried to make conversation, turning around and leaving you with the words hanging from your mouth. pity was in the eyes of those that witnessed the encounter.

you don’t notice that someone has joined you—standing by your side as you look at the water brushing against the shore, lost in your thoughts.

“is something troubling you, my lady?” you turn around only to find prince jacaerys already looking at you, frown on his face and brown eyes slightly squinted.

you bring your hand to your chest, surprised. “my prince,” you bow your head, a small smile playing on your lips. “i didn’t expect to see you here.”

“the weather is perfect for a walk through the gardens, don’t you think?” he says, offering his arm to you.

you look him in the eyes for a few seconds, then at his arm and back to his eyes before accepting it, slowly starting to walk.

you doubt the prince has time to indulge in something as ordinary as a walk in the gardens when he, the heir to the throne, has so many responsibilities. but you know what this is about, even if you would like to forget the words your mother spoke to you just a day ago.

“are you enjoying your stay?” he asks after a moment of silence.

“yes, my prince.” you smile, trying to avoid eye contact before speaking again. “i think i could get used to living here.” you fail to hide the nervousness in your voice.

the prince chuckles, his free hand covering yours, resting on his forearm. “so, i take it you’ve heard the news.”

“i am terribly sorry, my prince. my mother begged me not to say anything but—”

“there is nothing to be worried about.” you breathe a sigh of relief. you know you should’ve waited for him to say something first, but not being able to share the news about the betrothal was eating you up. “i truly hope this could strengthen the bond between our families, that we could be what the people need.” when you look at him again, he’s biting his lower lip, uncertainty in his eyes.

you try desperately to swallow the lump in your throat, his words making your eyes sting.

there is nothing better than marrying a prince, the heir… to become the queen. even if your heart belongs to someone else, you will perform your duty… even if the love you feel for him burns stronger than any flame.

“so it shall be.” you don’t even try to smile, you can’t. but if the prince notices the sadness in your eyes, he doesn’t say anything.

you keep walking in a comfortable silence, smiling when you bump into a couple of ladies drinking tea and chatting. once you are out of sight, you hear their giggles and you know the rumor will spread like a summer’s fire.

after a few minutes your unplanned stroll comes to an end when the prince excuses himself, mumbling about returning to the castle to tend some unfinished court’s business. he kisses the back of your hand and leaves you under a leafy tree, promising to look for you later.

you see him get lost in the distance with a blurry vision and a prickling pain in your heart that you know will never go away.

“it is true, then.” his voice startles you, but you don’t turn around. you’re still hurting from his cold demeanor toward you.

“what is?”

aemond grabs you by the shoulders, caging you between the tree and his body. he’s not playing, you see it clearly on his face.

“how long have you known?” you ask him, looking for an answer in his eye, but there is nothing there. suddenly, everything makes sense. “that’s why you have been avoiding me — you know.” knowing he cares for you enough to feel jealous, makes you smile.

aemond frowns and, decided to remove the smile from your face, kneels in front of you, lifting up your dress.

“aemond! wh—what are you doing?” you look around frantically, but you are far from prying eyes. still, it makes your heart beat faster, breath hitching at the sight as he looks up at you with that intense, violet eye.

“taking what’s mine.” he simply says, burying his face between your legs.

aemond slowly pulls your undergarments to the side, enough so he can slip his tongue past your folds. he licks a long stripe that has your legs shaking, hand grasping at his silver locks.

“aemond, please,” you whine, letting your head rest back against the tree. “don’t stop.”

he licks at your clit, which makes you moan aloud, hand flying to your mouth to muffle all sound.

“you need to be quiet. could you do that for me, sweet girl?” he asks you, his fingers playing with your soft bud, brushing ever so slightly. “we don’t want anyone to see the future queen reduced to submission by someone who is not her betrothed.”

you shake your head ‘no’, hand still clasped over your mouth.

aemond smirks, maintaining eye contact as he wraps his lips around your clit, inserting a finger inside of you. you’re the first one to look away, unable to keep your eyes open and squinting them shut as he sucks at your clit like a man starved.

you gasp his name out, your hand doing little to help you muffle your moans.

“does that feel good?” he taunts, not waiting for your answer as he adds a second finger, thrusting and curling them. you grind into his face, legs squeezing around his head.

you bite your lips to hold back a scream when he licks at your bundle of nerves before replacing his lips with his thumb.

aemond fight back a smirk at your reaction. “look at me.” he demands, and you obey. you look at him with a blurred vision, pure bliss cursing through your veins. “who do you belong to?”

“yo—” you cry out a moan, biting your lips so hard that it draws blood. you feel your peak building inside of you, eating your insides as he keeps fucking you with his fingers.

“didn’t hear you.” aemond kisses your thigh, quickening his pace.

“you — i belong to… you.” your eyes lock with his and you see his gaze darken, something primal dancing in it.

“that’s right.” he hisses, thumb moving expertly against your clit. “you will always belong to me.” his mouth finds your clit again and he doesn’t stop, licking and thrusting his fingers like there’s no tomorrow, soaking up every drip.

you know he is right. it doesn't matter who you marry, your body and soul will always belong to him. you will always be connected to aemond one way or another, and it hurts you to think about living a life you once dreamt about spending with him, with someone you barely know, someone you’ll never love. not the way you love aemond.

from the beginning, you knew you were doomed. but the little flame of hope never went out… until a night ago, when the words you were dreading to hear finally left your mother’s mouth.

tears stream down your face, a combination of the pleasure he is giving you and the pain in your heart.

“aemond… aemond—” you whine, the fire in your stomach growing stronger and spreading through your entire body. you feel how your orgasm comes crashing down on you, legs shaking and mouth falling open as you give in completely.

aemond’s tongue rides you through your peak, hands gripping so hard at his hair it makes him groan. but he doesn’t stop until you jerk your hips away from his mouth, heavy breathing leaving your lips as you try to come down from your high.

you whine when aemond pulls his finger out of your cunt, and brings them to his mouth, licking up your juices while looking intently at you, pure confidence and cockiness emanating from him.

aemond helps you straighten your dress and keep your balance on wobbly legs.

“congratulations,” he whispers, brushing a strand of hair out of your face, fingers lightly caressing your cheek, like feathers. “you will make a fine queen.” the smile he gifts you doesn’t reach his eyes. but aemond’s lips feel soft against your forehead and you close your eyes, his scent—amber and sandalwood, clouding your senses.

aemond pulls away all too soon, and when you try to look him in the eye he refuses to give you that privilege and, instead, just turns around and walks away, holding your broken heart in his hands.

[sanjoongie]

𝔗𝔥𝔢 ℭ𝔞𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔞𝔱𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 ℭ𝔞𝔫𝔞𝔯𝔶

💚Pairing: Vampire Rockstar! Kang Yeosang x Reporter! Reader (f) ft Human Servant! San

💚Au: modern vampire au, Rockstar au, reporter au, queen of the damned au

💚Genre: contemporary

💚Rating: 18+, MDNI

💚Word Count: 2,829

💚Warnings: mentions of blood, blood loss, biting, vampiric habits

💚Summary: finding it odd that you have to interview a Rockstar in the evening, you trudge to the gothic mansion expecting a hungover man. Instead, after being left alone in his cave of a living room, you discover something much more deeper and darker than he hosts orgies with his groupies...

💚Author's Note: Happy birthday to this man who's humor, slyness, wholesome heart and thick waist will always hold a place in my heart!

“Absolutely ridiculous,” You mutter to yourself, hefting your bag with your laptop and climbing the stairs to Kang Yeosang’s gothic mansion. 

The sun is setting, and you have much better things to do than get the skivvy from a rockstar’s point of view on life, but here you were. Your editor, much to your chagrin, assigned you this task with enthusiasm. 

“He’s more interesting than you think!” Mingi said but you just thought he was a little star struck. 

You are still muttering to yourself as you knock on the lion’s mouth door knocker. He was already rich. Why did he make it look like he was a duke rather than a modern rockstar? A somewhat tall, handsome man opens the door, staring down his nose at you. 

“You’re the reporter, I presume?” He says with his haughty expression.

It took everything in you to not roll your eyes. A butler too? You grab your lanyard from around your neck and brandish your credentials. “Yes, I’m here for the interview,” You reply cheerily despite your attitude. 

The butler bows deeply, fanning out his arm to indicate you can come inside. A quick look around, with a grand staircase in the foyer and the limited edition glass chandelier, lets  you know Yeosang enjoys giving an impression. 

“The chandelier was imported from Italy,” the butler informs you. “A one of a kind piece.”

You nod appreciatively and pretend you’re taking notes. “What year?”

“1812,” the butler says.

“1812?!” You gasp and your cool exterior is gone. “Jesus.”

The butler smiles in faint amusement. “Yeosang enjoys timepieces. It says it helps him get into his stage persona.”

“Ah yes, the vampire,” you muse out loud. “However could I forget.”

The butler frowns at you, his lower lip jutting out just a tiny bit. “Are you mocking Yeosang?”

“No, a man pretending to be a mythical creature for the money isn’t anything mock worthy at all,” you reply sarcastically.

The butler uses his height to his advantage and attempts to loom over you, his face stormy with withheld rage. “You dare mock him in his own household?”

“It’s fine, San, stand down,” an amused voice comes from atop the staircase.

You turn your head and see the rockstar you were here to interview. He muses his hair and yawns prettily. He was dainty of face but his body was built a bit like a muscle-perfectionist. Needless to say, he drove his fans wild with the juxtaposition. 

San took a step back and bows. “As you wish, Master.”

Yeosang laughs, but it sounds forced and fake. “Ah, San, no need to be so formal in front of our guest!”

You raise your eyebrow. “Are you saying he refers to you as master when you don’t have guests?”

Yeosang smiles at you angelically. “Not at all. San simply enjoys teasing.”

The rockstar guides you to his living room, which is just as much a museum as a sitting room. He perches on a royal blue stuffed chair, it’s mahogany legs decorated in fleur-de-lis. Yeosang crosses his legs and gives you his full, undivided attention. “Where do we begin?”

You sit across from him on a chaise lounge, reaching into your bag to awkwardly balance your laptop there. You open it and listen to it hum as it powers up. “Well, we sent over some questions to your PR department, which you pre-approved. We can start at--”

Yeosang leans forward, elbow on knee, face in hand. “You’re awfully pretty for a reporter,” he comments.

You chuckle mirthlessly. “Are you implying only ugly girls become reporters, Mister Kang?”

“Please, call me Yeosang,” the rockstar replies smoothly, shaking his head to move his fringe from his eyes. “And no, I am not. I am simply admiring your face.”

You clear your throat. “As I was saying, I think we should start with the basics like--”

“Oh please,” Yeosang drawls. “You don’t want to ask basic questions, do you, miss reporter?”

You pause on typing up your intro and peer over your laptop screen at Yeosang. “Mister Kang, you do not want me to put on my true reporter's cap on.”

Yeosang smiles in a way that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Try me. And I thought I told you to call me Yeosang.”

You close your laptop and crack your fingers. “Okay, Yeosang. You typically dodge the questions about fans of yours going missing after being seen leaving your concerts with you. What do you have to say about that?”

Yeosang shrugs gallically. “I am not responsible for a person after they’ve left my bed.”

“So you openly acknowledge you were with them the night they disappeared,” you press.

A smirk curls the side of Yeosang’s mouth. “I thought you were reporting for the newspaper, not the tabloids.”

“I work off of facts, and it is alarming the amount of young men and women that go missing after a chance encounter with you,” you insist.

“Perhaps they believe they simply cannot live without me after a night with me,” Yeosang purrs. 

You scoff, “You don’t believe a word you’re saying, surely.”

Yeosang lets out a peal of laughter, this one sounding genuine. “Are you implying I’m good at lying to myself?”

You slam your laptop shut. “I knew this was a waste of my time. How about I do us both a favor and type up some bullshit interview. I’ll send it to your team to review. And then we never have to do this again?”

Yeosang looks as if he contemplates it for a moment and then shakes his head. “Aren’t you having fun, miss reporter? I know I am.”

San suddenly enters the room, his broad shoulders unignorable. “Ma… Yeosang. You should eat a meal before too long. You just woke up, after all.”

Yeosang meets your glare with an amused look of his own. “If you will excuse me, I will attend to a minor personal matter and then we can resume. Make yourself comfortable.”

Both San and Yeosang leave the room. San is whispering fervently and Yeosang is replying in even tones but you cannot hear the subject of their conversation. 

You sigh heavily and get up to peruse the living room. It is full of old world art. Yeosang went full-send into this vampire stage presence. You observe a Greek clay vase and a very rage filled 17th century Baroque painting. There is a velvet lined gold box that must have delivered some fanciful jewelry back in the day. 

But what seems to draw you the most were the books. Most had old world bindings, perhaps bought at auction. Some were titled, and some were not. You, by pure curiosity, pull one out of the shelf to crack it open and are surprised to see handwriting inside. 

Paintings no longer intrigue me anymore. I sigh at the simple human nature portrayed in them. If I cannot even enjoy art anymore, what is an immortal to do for the rest of eternity?

You snort at the absurdity of that sentence. “This was clearly a trap for a snooping reporter.”

You close the book with a snap and put it back. You meander down the rows and randomly pull another. It reads:

Yeosang doesn’t know I will leave him tonight. I have done everything I can for him, as a fledgling vampire. He’s grown and can adapt in his own way. I will throw myself into the sunrise and finally see it after 500 years in the dark.

“My Master was very dramatic, I’m afraid.”

You squeal as you close the book and find Yeosang behind you. When had he come up behind you? You had heard nothing? “Finished eating, have you?” You attempt to deflect. 

Yeosang smiles serenely. “I’m quite full now. I’m much better equipped for your questions now, ma belle.”

You roll your eyes and shove the book into his chest. You move back to the chaise lounge you had occupied. “You don’t have to pretend with me, you know. The story of your french vampire master is a bit overdone. I’m sure your fans would eat up an exposé on the real Kang Yeosang.”

You sit down primly, but Yeosang is still where you had left him, regarding the book solemnly. “The real Kang Yeosang, huh? But haven’t you been paying attention? I have been myself this entire time.”

You wave your hand as if to dismiss him. “Fine, do what you want. Shall we resume then, in a professional capacity?”

Yeosang tips his head sideways, considering your proposal. “I rather enjoy a more casual setting myself.”

“I really can’t win with you, can I?” You mumble to yourself. Still, you pull out your laptop and wait for Yeosang to join you. 

Yeosang moves behind the chair he had been sitting on, hands firm on the back of it, remaining standing. “You remind me of someone I used to know. Your inquiring mind is encouraging me to answer some questions better left in the dark. But I know better than anyone that a picture is worth a thousand words. Would you care for me to show you something?”

You close your laptop with finality. “It’s your interview, Yeosang.”

You follow Yeosang as he strolls with his arms held behind his back. “As you can see I am a bit of an acquirer of certain antique goods. It reminds me of the days of old. Depending on the day I could be remembering good memories or bad. Still, it is good to remember all the years that have built me up to this moment. Helps with writing lyrics for my songs as well, you know.”

You nod like it was just a regular Tuesday as a vampire rockstar persona told you about his life. “You certainly do own some very beautiful pieces.”

Yeosang opens a very large set of doors and it brings the both of you to a long hallway with high ceilings. The walls are covered with paintings, large and small and it reminds you of an art museum. Yeosang really wasn’t kidding. 

“I’ll show you a painting of my best friend and I when we were in the prime of our youth. Wooyoung was boisterous and friendly, everything I was not. We were yin and yang, perfectly suited to fill out each other’s imperfections. My master wished to have a portrait of the two of us, his opposite pair, he used to call us. Master, human servant and fledgling vampire; a triumvirate.”

Yeosang stops before a somewhat large portrait. There is a young man with his hair tied back and a beauty mark high on his cheekbone. He is grinning like he knows a secret about you but he’s going to tease you about it before he’ll reveal it. Beside him is a beautiful youth. His hair also pulled back but a reserved look on his face. It appears as if he’s looking at someone behind you and not at the viewer of the painting themselves. He almost looks like…

You giggle nervously. “Gee, the apple truly doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it, Yeosang?”

Yeosang’s shoulder brushes yours reassuringly. “There is no apple, ma belle. I am the tree.”

The painting looks authentic to your eyes but anyone could have recreated a painting that matched 18th Century French painters. Surely…

“If this is your strategy to set me on edge so that I don’t ask you a question that could set you in a suspicious light of murder, then it’s working,” you joke dryly.

“Do I set you on edge?” Yeosang asks. His hands are still held at his back but he leans forward boyishly to peer at your face.

You square your shoulders with determination. “Shall we continue?”

Yeosang continues his tour of his art collection, walking down the long hallway. You pull a notebook out of your back pocket, worn and dogeared, to jot down notes. You might as well keep up with Yeosang’s facade, noting the dates and the people associated with the paintings. 

You fall into the lull of Yeosang’s voice, deep and soothing, until you belatedly realize that you are no longer in the hallway. You shake your head a bit and find yourself in a small room, with a table, chair and a couch. It’s dark and modern but you can’t for the life of you figure out the purpose of it. 

“...so that’s the end of the tour?” You prompt.

San shoots up from his place on the couch, eyes wide in alarm. “Master, you didn’t bring her to the hallway, did you?” You study the butler as he winces, looking a lot paler than you recalled from earlier.

Yeosang does not scold San for the mistake of the title of Master this time. “Of course, mon petit chou, she thinks it’s all an act regardless.”

San claspes a hand on his collarbone. “Please don’t make me a spectacle,” he pleas.

Yeosang walks to San’s side and claps a hand down on the shoulder near where San’s holding his collarbone. You watch as Yeosang’s forearm tightens, fingers digging into his butler’s shoulder. “Why San, don’t you want to be a part of the fun?” There is an edge of danger to Yeosang’s voice and your stomach dips. 

San slowly lowers his hand and you can’t help but gasp at the two dainty holes located on his collarbone. San does not appear ashamed but more as if he’s worried. 

You swallow loudly. “You go through an awful lot to keep up appearances. I’ll be sure to note everything I’ve seen here today, don’t worry, Yeosang. Now if that concludes our interview…?” 

Yeosang sports that smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes again. He’s back to the calculating man that intimidates you far more than the entertaining one. “I have one last thing to show you,” he admits, crooking a finger at you.

Your feet move on their own accord and you feel a bit foggy-headed, much like the same state you ‘woke up’ in when you found yourself in this room. It was as if you didn’t have control over your own body. 

“Everyone has seen me flash my fangs on stage but I want you to have a front row seat to the event,” Yeosang croons softly.

The corner of his top lip lifts up and his canine is there but just as a normal human’s appears as. Then you watch in horror as it slowly elongates into a sharp tooth, perfect for a predator. “Do you need any more proof, miss reporter?”

You shake your head quickly. “No, Yeosang, that’s plenty.”

Yeosang throws his head back and his laughter echoes in the tiny, empty room. “I put on a grand show for you and the one thing that convinces you is something base like my teeth? How dull.”

“Can I be excused?” You say in a small voice, your throat tightening up in fear.

“No, I think I’d like to show you first hand why people go missing after spending a night with me,” Yeosang says.

“A-are y-y-you threat-t-tening me?!” You can’t help but stutter in disbelief.

“Master!” San protests.

Yeosang sighs deeply. “You two are wet blankets. Can’t we have a little bit of fun here?”

There’s a sense of mirroring between you and San; a held breath like a deer pausing in the middle of a clearing. Neither of you knew how to move until Yeosang, in this case the predator, indicated what would happen next.

Yeosang practically growls his next sentence, “Well?”

You can’t help but whimper. “I don’t want to die tonight.”

Yeosang rubs the bridge of his nose. “I said ‘the why’ they go missing, not that I was going to make you go missing. I thought you were smarter than that.”

“Is that why you only took a sip from me?” San hazards a guess.

Yeosang looks like he is the cat that ate the canary. “If I had it my way, I would have drunk from you then our lovely reporter here. Two lovely dishes, how could I resist?”

“I’m not making it out of here with your secrets, am I?” You whisper.

“I haven’t decided yet,” Yeosang informs you.

“Master, you cannot have told her all your secrets and let her leave. What will the other vampires think?” San objects.

Yeosang performs one of his gallic shrugs. “Perhaps that’s why I set up this interview, San. I tire of hiding everything. Having a proper reporter document everything might be nice.”

If you writing everything down that Yeosang told you was going to keep you alive, you were all for it. “I’ve made avid notes, I promise!”

Yeosang’s eyes, a light amber color that you were starting to believe were not contacts, darken when he locks eyes with you. “Do you still want that live demonstration?”

On second thought, perhaps you wouldn’t make it out alive, at least if Yeosang kept looking at you like that.

[caffeinewitchcraft]

The Good Witch of Hawthorne

Summary: Marigold Fletcher is a good witch. However, when her dark past comes knocking, her reputation is on the line.

------

Marigold Fletcher is a good witch.

“No, not a good witch,” she tries to explain to the knight on her doorstep. She pinches the bridge of her nose. “I mean good in the sense that I excel in my craft. Morally, I’m more gray.”

“Oh, good,” the man says. He puts the hat he’d been wringing in his hands back on his head. The leather pops back into shape and the desperation he’d been wearing like a cloak melts away. He looks ten years younger when he smiles. “I can drop the act then.”

Marigold gapes. “You were lying? To a witch?”

“I’m a knight,” the man says with a shrug. “We aren’t known for being smart.” He nods towards her living room. “Do you mind if I come in, or…?”

Wordlessly, Marigold lets him duck past her. He finds his way into her living room with prompting and sighs when he sits on her couch.

“Sorry,” he says, tipping his head back against the backrest. “It was tough getting here. I had to climb three separate mountains and fight off at least a dozen griffins. And you were the easiest witch to find, believe it or not.”

Marigold believes it. Most witches are nomadic. Those who put down roots, like her, usually do so in the most inhospitable places. Marigold is lazier than her brethren. She doesn’t live too deep in a forest, though she does live so high on her mountain that the air is a little too thin for most human’s comfort.

“You didn’t give me your name,” she says. She shuts her door and picks a seat in an armchair across from the knight, right by the fireplace. If this turns out to be an elaborate plan to dig out her heart, she’ll throw him into the flames head first. “Awfully rude of a guest.”

“Alas,” the man says gallantly, “I can not give you my name.” He winks at her. “But you may call me Jax.”

Rather than be charmed, Marigold is irritated. “I’m not fae, idiot. I can’t take your name even if you said you were giving it to me.”

Jax continues smiling at her and says nothing.

Marigold pinches the bridge of her nose again. “What do you want? If it’s not my blessing for you to save the princess or whatever your story was?”

“A fair blessing to ease my travels on the way to save the princess from the dragon,” Jax recites. He waves a hand in the air. “For the good of the kingdom, peace of mind of the people, saving a grieving father and rescuing the damsel in distress…yada yada yada.”

“Right,” Marigold says flatly.

“I did come here in hopes of receiving your blessing,” Jax says. He scratches the back of his neck. “Just not to save the princess. I’m here on behalf of the princess, actually.”

Marigold frowns. “Is she not kidnapped by a dragon right now?”

“Technically not,” Jax hedges. He sighs when Marigold glares. “Look, I’m trying to ease you into this, okay? We really do need your help and you won’t want to help if I shock you.”

“Try me.”

“The dragon is the princess’ girlfriend,” Jax says, leaning forward.  “Yes, the thirty foot tall dragon is the princess’ girlfriend, yes, the dragon is sentient, yes, the princess is sure. They’d very much appreciate your help turning the dragon into a human so they can run away from the princess’ tyrannical father and live happily ever after.”

The silence that follows after his outburst is very, very loud.

Jax pulls a flask out of his coat. “Take your time processing. Gods know I needed it.” He takes a swig.

Marigold opens her mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. “No, I, uh, that’s…” She clears her throat. “A princess and a dragon? Really?”

“Thank you!” Jax points at Marigold. “That’s the right reaction to have! You know what the prince said? He said ‘As long as my sister is happy.’ And the Queen? She named the dragon! As her new daughter-in-law she was aggrieved that it didn’t have a name so she named. The. Dragon.”

Marigold stares. “Dragons don’t have names.”

“Her name is Elisa,” Jax says. He presses a hand to his cheek and bats his eyelashes. “To rhyme with Princess Alicia. Elisa and Alicia.”

“Oh,” Marigold says faintly. She’s never heard of a dragon accepting a name before. While she herself isn’t fae, the line is a little blurry between fae and dragon. “Oh my.”

“I know it’s my fault,” Jax says. He looks mournfully at his flask and then takes another little sip. “It really is. I was supposed to be guarding the princess. If she hadn’t gotten kidnapped by the dragon, she wouldn’t have fallen in love with it.”

“Her,” Marigold corrects automatically.

Jax blinks at her. “What?”

“The dragon is a her,” Marigold says. She feels a headache coming on. “Yes, it’s unusual, but if she’s accepted a name…”

“You’re right,” Jax says. He laughs. “Well, she’s hiding in the woods behind the castle, but that’ll only last for so long. The knights train back there once the snow melts.”

Marigold looks outside her window. The sky is unseasonably clear and she can see the approximate area of the castle over the treetops. “The snow is melting.”

Jax nods. “Very quickly. Princess Alicia wanted to ask you to make the snow last longer. It was the dragon-- sorry, Lady Elisa’s suggestion that she be turned into a human instead.”

“Has Lady Elisa been human before? Or has she always been a dragon?”

Jax slowly screws the top back on his flask. “As far as I’m aware, she’s always been a dragon. An immortal one at that. She’s known as the Golden Calamity in our kingdom.”

Ah. Marigold clears her throat and shifts in her seat. “Does Lady Elisa know that you’re here to seek my help?”

“She’s the reason I knew where to find you,” Jax says. He studies Marigold’s rapidly paling face. “You know her?”

“No,” Marigold squeaks. She fans herself. “Is it hot in here? I’ll open a window, hold on a moment.” She lurches to her feet and staggers to the window, throwing it open in one go. Icy wind whips through the living room. She sags against the windowsill. “Just out of curiosity, did Lady Elisa say how she knew where I was?”

Jax is watching her with something like alarm. “Are you sure you’re warm? You’re shivering.”

Actually, she’s shaking. She waves away his concern. “I’m fine. It’s probably a magic thing you know nothing about. Like too much magic in my core or something.”

“Or something,” Jax echoes dubiously. “As to your question, she said she always knows where to find the Good Witch of Hawthorne.”

“AH!” Marigold cuts off her scream by coughing furiously. She holds out one finger when Jax starts to get up. “I’m fine! I’m fine! Just something in my throat!” She forces herself to breathe.“She always knows? She said those exact words? Always knows?”

“I’m sorry,” Jax says, “you said you didn’t know her but it really sounds like you do.”

“I don’t!” Marigold never had a full conversation with her anyway. After her sneak attack failed, Marigold was too busy running away to talk. “Not really. She wants to be human? I can do that. Absolutely. No problem. It will just take one spell.”

“Really?” Jax lunges to his feet. “That’s wonderful news! She needs to be here for you to perform it, right? I can go get her right away--!”

“NO!”

Jax freezes halfway to the door. “No?”

Marigold scrambles. “I-it’s too difficult to get here for a dragon! The air is so thin, I doubt she’ll be comfortable making the trip. I can make a potion for her--” Wait, would that even work? “--or maybe I can write down the spell for another witch to perform. So she doesn’t have to travel.”

“Maybe you should come with me now,” Jax says. He extends a hand. “That will solve the issue, right? And if a potion is needed, you’ll need ingredients. The princess guarantees the castle’s laboratory.”

“You want me to be in the same room as the Golden Calamity?” Marigold squeaks.

“You definitely know her,” Jax says. He crosses his arms. “Out with it.”

“It wasn’t personal!” Marigold blurts out. She collapses back into her armchair. “I can’t be held accountable after all these years. It wasn’t even my idea. It’s a rite of passage for young witches. O-of a kind. Maybe something more like hazing? My mentor told me I needed a scale from a dragon for my final exam.”

“Exam?” Jax asks incredulously. “Like a school for witches?”

Marigold ignores him. She buries her head in her hands. “Young witches aren’t even supposed to be able to breach the dragon’s outermost ward! But I’ve always been too good! I was just too damn good.” A single tear slips down her cheek.

“Oh no,” Jax says. He takes out his flask and offers it to her. “Here.”

Marigold snatches the container and gulps down two shots worth of the worst liquor she’s ever tasted. “Thanks.” She sniffles. “I caught her unawares, or so I thought. She was sleeping on top of a pile of treasures, belly up. I was on my broom and thought it’d be easy to pluck one from the underside of her chin.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Jax says. He’s kneeling by her side now. He pats her on the shoulder. “We’ve all been beaten by stronger opponents before.”

Marigold laughs humorlessly. “Beaten? Ha! I wouldn’t be like this if I was just beaten. I was so confident and she toyed with me. She chased me for three days and three nights through the woods. I thought I was going to die! And then, at the end, when I collapsed on the ground out of exhaustion, you know what she said to me?”

“I can imagine. She told me I should quit being a knight when I tried to rescue Alicia,” Jax says glumly. “Said I’d make a better sloth with how slow I moved.”

“She told me I should work on my stamina,” Marigold cried. “I ran for three days! Three nights! That’s pretty good, right?”

“It’s excellent,” Jax consoles. “I couldn’t ask more of trained knights.”

“Then she said I’d have to run faster if I wanted to avoid being killed by her,” Marigold says. She remembers the way Lady Elisa’s claws dug into the ground. Marigold, parlayzed by fear, had only been able to watch as the razor sharp tips dragged through the earth towards her. “She said dragons hold grudges for a long, long time.”

“If it’s any comfort,” Jax says hesitantly, “she didn’t sound angry when she mentioned you.”

Marigold shakes her head in disgust. “I haven’t even gotten to the worst part yet.”

“There’s more than her threatening your life?”

“If it was just that, I wouldn’t be like this!” She’s been threatened by so many people, she’s lost track. What the dragon did was much worse.  Marigold points above the fireplace. “See that?”

Jax twists on his knee, keeping one hand on her shoulder. “The dinner plate on your mantle?”

“It’s not a dinner plate,” Marigold says. Her cheeks burn. “It’s her scale. She said she pitied me to the point she gave me one! For free!”

“Uh.” Jax takes his hand away. “What?”

“I know!” Marigold can’t believe she’s revealing this to some knight after years of pretending it never happened. “I’ve never been so humiliated in my life.”

“I’m confused,” Jax says. “Are you scared of Lady Elisa or not?”

“I’m terrified of her, obviously,” Marigold snaps. She holds out her hands. “Look, I’m shaking! After that day, I promised no one would ever play with me like that ever again. And they haven’t! Because I moved to a place nobody knew that she’d pity-gifted me a scale. Now you’re telling me she’s known where I was this whole time?”

Jax squints at Marigold and then at the scale. “Can’t dragons track their scales?”

“They can what?” Marigold swoons in her seat. It’s only through a careful application of magic and Jax’ quick hands that she doesn’t fall out of her chair. “I didn’t know that. How could I not know that?”

“I don’t know. It seems like a witch should know that,” Jax says. When he’s sure that she won’t collapse again, he sits back on his heels. “Look, I’m not trying to dismiss your feelings, but it seems like you’re the only one holding onto that day. Don’t you think it’s time to let it go?”

“How can I?” Marigold presses the back of her hand to her forehead. “So you see, I can’t go see Lady Elisa. She’ll just make fun of me. I can’t handle that level of ridicule ever again.”

Jax stares at her. “Are you serious right now?”

“Deadly,” Marigold says. She peeks at Jax through her eyelashes. “I’d rather she kill me than see her again.”

Jax looks up at the ceiling as if praying for patience. He breathes in deeply through his nose and then out through his mouth. Finally, he says, “I think you might be overreacting a little bit.”

“You weren’t there,” Marigold moans. “You weren’t there. I wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat remembering my hubris.”

“But isn’t she the one asking you for help now?” Jax asks. When Marigold stills, he presses the advantage. “Maybe she was stronger than you back then, but is that the case now? After all, she can’t turn herself into a human. Only you can do that.”

Marigold shifts her weight. “I am very good.”

“And if you do this for her, won’t she owe you?” Jax gestures to the scale on the mantle. “She’ll owe you more than that scale.”

Marigold sits upright. “She’ll owe me her silence!” She leaps out of her chair and bustles into the kitchen. “Eureka, I’m a genius! If I help Lady Elisa become a human, she’ll be indebted to me! She won’t be able to tell people about my humiliation because she’ll owe me!”

Jax frowns as he watches Marigold start to throw spices and pots onto the table. “Isn’t that what I said?”

“I said it better.” Marigold rummages in the pantry and comes out with a burlap sack. She murmurs a spell under her breath that makes the bag glow for a brief moment. When she starts piling her chosen items into it, it stays remarkably flat. “Turning a dragon into a human is child’s play if it means reclaiming my honor.”

Jax watches a whole bushel of wheat go into the bag. “Did you just make a magic-storage device with one spell?”

“Of course, I’m very good,” Marigold says. She pauses in the act of putting an entire loom into her expanding bag. An eerie smile creeps across her face. “Once I settle this, I might even be the best.”

“Only if you manage to turn Lady Elisa into a human,” Jax says.

Marigold shrugs, throwing her near-empty burlap sack over her shoulder. “They just want to be together right? If the human thing fails, I can just turn the princess into a dragon. There’s already a spell for that.”

Jax splutters as he follows Marigold to the door. “That is not allowed!”

“Ha,” Marigold says. “We’ll see.”

“No, we won’t!”

They set off down the mountain.

 ----

Thanks for reading! 

Next week’s story (part 1) is already up on my Patreon!

Summary: Cinderella is too old for fairytales. But when one is her only chance at escape, she may have to start believing again. TW: child abuse, child neglect

Thank y’all again!

[thebadboyfanclub]

We’ll Finish This Later (Daemon x Reader)

So as we all know I have put on pause Daemon for a while but I am however opening the requests for Otto Hightower (shut the hell up I don’t want to hear it) and of course all the others are also active, also comments, likes and reblogs are deeply appreciated I want to know what you guys think of my imagines. Enjoy!

Queen Alicent loved all her children, truly and fiercely, however, she adored her daughter (y/n), the princess had a way with people, she was quite the diplomat from an early age, and her beauty and graciousness took her a step further, everything she did was just added details to any plan she had carefully created in her head.

The flower amongst the dragons as she was called, painted herself as a kind girl, gentle and rather gullible, it couldn’t be further from the truth, she had inherited her grandsires cunningness, the firstborn from queen Alicent, the favorite grandchild of Otto, (y/n) was always tending to her father, asking him to join her in the garden, became the cupbearer for his meetings, the perfect daughter.

(Y/n) was the beacon of hope for the greens, a princess that was noble for the common folk, she took great pride in perfecting her duties, she appeared to not possess an ounce of a flaw as she strolled around the castle, hair that went right over her breasts, a tall figure, plump lips, and dark purple eyes, a true Targaryen beauty.

“Such a grim day isn’t it mother? Poor lady Laena”

“Indeed my dearest”

“I feel bad for her two daughters, I do not know what I would do if I lost you”

Alicent felt a tug in her heart at her daughters' vulnerable confession. Compelled by her emotions the queen wrapped one arm around her daughters' shoulders to bring her close, while the other brushed her hair behind the young girl's shoulder.

“I am not going anywhere my sweet”

“Father is talking with prince Daemon, I should go over to profess my condolences”

“That would be a lovely idea, go on my love I must speak to your grandsire”

(Y/n) simply nodded before she left her mother's side with the next target being her father and Prince Daemon, fortunately for her, she was quicker than her half-sister who was lurking in the shadows, waiting for the right time to approach was not going to work when another was also on the prowl.

“Prince Daemon, I am sorry if I interrupt but I wish to offer my deepest condolences”

“Thank you dear (y/n), you are very kind”

“I must admit it is pleasant to have you back, father talks about you every day”

“Does he?”

“Of course, it is almost like I grew up with you after countless hours of listening to my father recalls stories of your adolescent years”

Daemon chuckled as (y/n) leaned closer to her father. (Y/n) had the greatest relationship with her out of all her siblings, every morrow she would be the one to wait outside her fathers' chambers so they could walk together and break their fast, she had even named her horse after him.

Daemon was amazed by the woman that was standing before him, last time he had seen her she was a mere toddler, now she was an elegant lady, a true princess. Her dress clung onto her as Daemon's gaze started to work its way down, although he quickly looked away to mentally cursing at himself for even entertaining such thoughts for the daughter of Viserys.

“I shall leave you two be, I am sure you have a lot to catch up on”

(Y/n) took only one more step before she hesitantly came to a halt, her arms slightly stretched towards the mourning prince, Daemon picked up on her body language as he straighten out his back, (y/n) slowly wrapped her arms around his neck for a brief embrace, once she felt Daemons arms snake around her waist it was when she pulled away.

The moment of physical touch was enough for him to be engulfed by her sweet fruity scent and her soft, delicate touch, once she was out of his grasp her eyes captured him, round and bright like the finest of jewels, and a smile danced along her lips while her cheeks appeared to be painted the slightest of red from their intimacy.

“I will be expecting to see you for supper father”

-

(Y/n) was too smart for her good, she had prepared every detail accustomed to what she wished to achieve, Daemon was certainly a man that enjoyed indulging in the sweet taste of the wine so he had started to drink early in the day.

(Y/n) had managed to wait so she can “coincidentally” meet him on the way to the dinner table, innocently she had requested for him to take her to the ocean.

“I have heard so much about you, yet we have never been properly acquainted”

Daemon had thought nothing of it and agreed, brushing it off as just curiosity for a distant family member.

As dinner came to an end Daemon did as he promised and walked with her to the shore if he was honest (y/n) was pleasant to be around, her light-hearted attitude occupied his mind for a minute, and she guided his focus away from all the drama.

“Did you love lady Laena?”

“We were content within our marriage I suppose”

“Judging from your character that is not something you would be looking for my prince”

“What do you mean?”

“A man like you is not made from the same cloth as my father, you are a man of passion, tension, a dark and lustful desire”

Her voice was slow and erotic, their goblets and two now empty carafes of Dornish wine lay next to them in the sand. Daemon did not have time to react when he realized (y/n) had thrown her leg over him and was now sitting on his lap, her chest touched his, and her legs brushed against his outer thigh.

Daemon's life had done a full circle within a few days, his consciousness could not quite rest as of late, his minding racing with how different his reality would be now.

(Y/n) smirked, the princess had countless attributes however she was known to be stubborn, whatever her heart craved she must have no matter what. Daemon was somewhat baffled, like a deer that was met with its hunter.

“(Y/n)”

“Yes”

She breathed out, her voice only audible to his ears, (y/n) slowly leaned in until her lips met his earlobe, and her hot breath tickled him in the best way possible. Daemon felt her fingertips caress him from his wrist up to his shoulder until he finally gained the willpower to grab her wrist with his one hand and slightly push her away enough to meet her eyes.

“Tell me to stop, command me to leave and I’ll do it, do you want me gone Daemon?”

Her voice was so melodic, as the ocean of waves complimented the sound that escaped her lips his eyes wandered down to them, she was breathtaking, a young, beautiful woman.

Daemon's grip loosened from her wrist and went up so he can allow his thumb to brush over her bottom lip, her sparkling eyes filled with lust, and her breath was hollow while she never broke eye contact, she was challenging him.

Her lips parted and with a blink of an eye, she felt his lips collide with hers for a passionate kiss, he had mastered all his courage and finally let her push him off the edge.

For a maiden (y/n) was quite a sight, she did not seem to care if anyone were to stumble upon their coupling. Daemon only needed to pull his trousers a bit down to earn a hiss from her once he entered, she remained seated on his lap while his one had grabbed a fist full of her and the other wrapped its way around her waist.

“Move like the ocean love”

He guided (y/n) through it, the amount of pleasure she was experiencing made her uncontrollably shake, and her moans danced around with his while their bodies collided, he held on to her for dear life as she as well, her nails dug into his biceps and his pleasure mixed with the pain brought him to a place of ecstasy, the adrenaline of getting caught rushed through both of them.

“Daemon”

“It’s alright love, let it wash you away”

And just like the waves, the sensation of relief with built-up arousal washed through her leaving her completely dry, a mess of a woman that fell in Daemon's arms like a rag doll.

Daemon cackled at her inability to control herself, he could do this all night.

And he did, oh how he thoroughly enjoyed her enthusiasm and thirst for sensual encounters, he kept going until his eyes could not be kept open no matter how hard he tried, the wine had run its course and the tiredness of the act forced him to fall asleep in the sand. (Y/n) saw the first rays of sunshine when she decided it was time for the next part of the plan.

-

Daemon was placed in the eye of the storm the moment he was awoken by the guards his brother had to send for him.

Stupidly he just considered there was a ruckus due to him going missing for a long period, he could not have been more wrong.

The servants report the princess disheveled, tears streaming down her eyes when she burst into the room, lord Corlys, the hand of the king and her father were all there when (y/n) fell on her knees in front of her father.

“I’m so sorry, father please help me”

“What is wrong dear? What has gotten into you?”

“I-I”

“Leave us”

The king instructed. Gently he helped his daughter to sit on a chair, he waited patiently to hear what has caused such despair to make his daughter beg for forgiveness.

Viserys was furious, his brother took advantage of his daughter once again, he had defiled her, and ruined her reputation, he was certain that within the girl's delirium, she did not consider the whispers of the servants that had crossed her path on the way here.

He could not stay upset at his daughter, the girl cried with such intense hiccups that made Viserys worry about her losing her breath or going into hysteria.

“Please father does not execute me”

“Of course not, I will make this right, go to your room and everything will be fine”

Daemon was oblivious to such an event, so when he sauntered into his brothers' room per his request he was met with a goblet flying at him. Thankfully for the prince, he was quick enough to duck as the goblet graced the top of his head, the sound of it being crashed to the wall was deafening, Daemon's eyebrows raised at his brothers' anger, Viserys was never a man of aggression, to tease such a reaction out of him meant that something horrible had taken place.

“How fucking dare you! With my daughter, again!”

“What?”

“Do not play the fool with me! (Y/n)! at your wife's funeral! Have you no shame?!”

Daemon's blood froze, were they seen? Was she alright? Questions raced through his drunken mind causing even more damage. Viserys wanted to kill his brother on the spot, he had exiled him last time when Rhaenyra swore that nothing had happened between them, and now (y/n) was worried for her own life, he brought his flesh and blood to tears, the image of her burned in Viserys brain, he had crossed the sacred line.

“Brother!”

“No! I do not want to hear your empty excuses, you are a vile man. You will make this right”

“What will you command me to do this time?”

“Your wedding will take place within a fortnight”

“Wedding?!”

Daemon exclaimed shocked which only caused Viserys to be outraged. Viserys slammed his fists on the table as he rose from his seat, after that he pushed his chair away making it crash to the ground, Daemon was reminded of their last encounter, the scandal with Rhaenyra, the knife Viserys had pulled on Daemon's neck, he wisely grew silently as his brother panted.

“We will fly to the red keep and you will wed her, you will rectify your folly and wed her like an honorable man, it is the least you could do after such inappropriate behavior”

-

(Y/n) was on cloud nine when her mother announced the news, she had listened to the whispers of Alicent and Otto about who will the princess wed, it terrified her when she found out some of her grandsires suggestions were incredibly old and ugly men, Daemon was a prince, a handsome man and eligible for a princess.

A knock interrupted her preparations for the ceremony, her mother had accompanied her with her ladies to make sure her daughter was perfect for her wedding, Alicent despised this decision, her precious little girl was marrying a man of such ill behavior, yet she did not express such worries to (y/n), she simply smiled away the pain and did what she owed to do for (y/n)s special day.

“You may enter”

Rhaenyra appeared to everyone’s surprise, most of her family had already paid their respects to congratulate (y/n) for her wedding match, Rhaenyra had grown silent, confined in her chambers or anywhere that was away from her half-sister.

(Y/n) looked beautiful in her wedding gown, which found Rhaenyra like a twist of a knife in her bleeding wound that was created in her heart once the wedding news was announced to her.

“Sister, what a surprise”

“May I have a moment with the princess? Alone”

Alicent waited for her daughter to nod to her before she escorted the servants and herself, once the two sisters were left alone (y/n) took a step down her stool to be closer to Rhaenyra.

“Came to congratulate me?”

“No, I have not, I came to see a mastermind of evilness”

“I do not follow”

“I knew you were capable of a plethora of things, although I would never have guessed you were this desperate”

“Desperate? Sister, you are being cruel for no reason”

“Do not play the innocent act, everyone else has fallen for your acts but you cannot fool me, you were the one that initiated it weren’t you? What did you tell him? Did you promise him that no one will know? Did you strip yourself of all clothing in front of him”

(Y/n) smirked as Rhaenyra was losing her cool composure. Even though the princess was dressed in a wonderful gown (y/n) could spot the dark circles under her eyes, her cheeks sinking in from what she guessed was a loss of appetite.

(Y/n) been at odds with her sister for years now, she did not play the game, she merely paraded herself around and do whatever she wanted, scoffing at strategy and protocols, (y/n) viewed her sisters as utterly dim-witted when it came to life, “you will never win the game if you do not appear to be playing by the rules, be observant, be patient and be careful, then you will be given the crown of the winner”

Her grandsire had once bestowed that advice in one of their lunches that they had privately.

“Oh please, Rhaenyra I am undoubtedly aware of how you wish that all of those vile accusations were true. You cannot fathom the idea that I was just simply better than you”

“Daemon never loved you, he never will, he simply fucked you and then was forced to marry you”

“Is that so? Well then, how do you explain that Daemon paid a visit in my chambers last night, only to give me this lovely present”

(Y/n) had tirelessly worked for the past days to get in Daemon's good graces, to grant him the woman he deserved, a wife that cared for him, a lustful woman that sneaked her way into his chamber to remind him of their heated encounter, the thrill of a worthy opponent with a mind of her own, he was left to only be mesmerized by her, so the night before the big day of their official union he offered a symbol.

When (y/n) opened the small box Rhaenyra was puzzled, for (y/n) that was even more entertaining.

“Princess Alyssa’s hairpiece, prince Baelon had gifted her with it on the night before their wedding, Daemon told me he held on to it until he found his love match”

Daemon was a man that enjoyed freedom, though there was only a handful of people that knew his deepest desire, that was a loyal companion, a trustful confidant.

(Y/n) could be that for him, the salvation in a form of a princess, the balm to soothe his family's wounds, she could offer him everything ever wanted, a family of his own, a life that he was seen as the protector of his offsprings.

“Where did you get that? Daemon would never give this to you”

“I understand your uneasiness about the fact that I won but let us be honest here, you never loved him, you barely even like him, all you care about is that he goes against father's wishes and how you could selfishly make him your puppet so he can do your dirty work, to whisper things in his ear to get him riled up and hide behind his anger, you have been given everything on a silver platter but I would rather die than let you destroy him”

Even though she was whispering her tone was harsh, her face so close to Rhaenyra while her eyes burned holes in her older half-sister. Rhaenyra wanted to get physical, slapping her forever talking to her like that though she knew she would lose the fight immediately if she raised her hand to the princess.

“He will never be happy with you, he will figure out your vile schemes and despise you for it”

“What vile schemes are you accusing me of sister? Daemon is a man grown he wanted to lay with me, our wedding is taking place a fortnight after the incident he could have already escaped to one of the free cities, he is choosing to stay. Daemon is a lot of things but he is not an imbecile? He knows I will love him, I will give him the sons and the family he wants, do not worry my dear, I will make sure I name one of our daughters after you”

Rhaenyra was about to respond when a knock was heard, their heads snapping to the direction of the door before (y/n) called for the person to enter.

Daemon, completely unaware of what has been happening in his future wife's chambers entered to find the two sisters in the room, he grinned at the sight of them having a moment before the young sister would walk down the Sept.

“Am I interrupting?”

“Not at all, I just wanted to share your gift with my sister, could you please place it on my head Rhaenyra?”

Rhaenyra was put between a rock and a hard place, Rhaenyra always felt like Daemon was slipping through her fingers and now she had to watch him get married to her little half-sister while she rot in a loveless marriage with a man that was not even interested in women making her reside to the arms of the commander of the city watch.

She mastered up the courage to put her pride and mighty yearning for Daemon aside to ever so gently place the beautiful piece of jewelry on (y/n)s head, bitterly she recalled the time that Daemon would bring her all sorts of stuff from his travels, however, none of them were from his mother, “what does (y/n) have that I don’t?” She thought as tears welled up in her eyes that she batted away.

“You look beautiful, I should give you two some privacy”

“No it’s alright, I just wanted to take one good look at my bride before the ceremony, if I stay here for any longer I don’t think I will be able to restrain myself”

He joked making (y/n) giggle. The bride simply forgot Rhaenyras existence in the room when she marched for Daemon's arms, his hug felt like the safest place on earth to her while Daemon could swear he was wrapping his arms around the most valuable thing in the world as he exhaled with her wrapped around him the entire weight was lifted off of his shoulders.

“There are probably looking for me, I must go”

“Alright, we’ll finish this later”

“That we will”

He promised in a hushed note before placing a kiss on the top of her head. That’s when Rhaenyra felt it sink in, (y/n) was right, she had won.

Requests are open!

[raayllum]

We don't appreciate Soren's batshit evolving view of Rayla (and Rayllum enough) tbh.

Think about it: you're Soren. Your dad and sister tell you the princes you were sworn to protect got kidnapped by a Moonshadow elf (some of whom you just fought, killed, and watched your fellow crownguard be killed by). You never met her and never saw the encounter in the dungeons that Claudia did, so you have no reason to doubt this. Then your dad gives you a mission that curdles your stomach and you find yourself more than half hoping that elf has just killed the boys because that means you don't have to dirty your hands and have plausible deniability of your own and your dad's involvement in all of this.

Then you find the Moonshadow elf and she's young. Younger than you. Asleep; it feels wrong. But then it's a trick and she's got the momentary upper hand! She's talented. She's sarcastic(?) and pretty. She's dead meat—

Then Callum runs in, in front of your raised sword, and defends her. He says she's his friend. He says she's a good elf. (How can that be possible?) He says you have to learn to put aside your differences. Your brain is breaking. You assume nothing will change in the morning. And then the weirdest thing is that the elf has the same reaction to your sister and Callum flirting as you do, a big ugh. What's up with that?

You speculate about Moonshadow madness and lie about the king, and the elf gives you an Intense Look that, unfortunately, is not because she's hot and talented, but because she's suspicious. She looks after Ezran like he's her own little brother. When she tricks you guys, again, it's just her on the ground and the princes safely on the stupid moon bird.

Then you don't see her again until it's raining, and she's shown up seemingly of nowhere to save this dumb monstrous dragon. She can't cut the chains and she's outnumbered. An easy prize. Claudia tells you not to kill her because she might be useful. You haven't really made up your mind about it when—

Callum is there in the rain, following after her like a good loyal knight of his own. Callum does dark magic. You wonder if this was the plan all along or not, since the elf doesn't look happy about it. In her your periphery you see her run to him anyway once the dragon is freed. Then it smashes you into the rocks, and everything gets fuzzy.

You don't see her again until at least a week and a half later at the Storm Spire. Ezran calls for both of them (are they always a package deal) and they come running. They exchange wary looks as you give explanations. You can hear their voices, dimly, in the queen's antechamber while you play a game of chase with Ezran and the Dragon Prince. Callum looks to her when you ask to speak and she gives you an eye-roll of permission. Her name is Rayla. She thinks you're more than just a big dump lump (compliment). And maybe you wonder if she's a little more than a friend to Callum as she takes his hand and squeezes, watching Ezran fly off into the night. Maybe you don't.

But they're not holding hands when you find them the next morning so it's fine to interrupt, and you don't know for sure they're a thing until everything is said and done—until you learn that not only is Callum more than over your sister, he flung himself off the top of that tall tall mountain to catch Rayla without even knowing the spell would work.

It's intense and overwhelming to the point you might worry about it if she didn't also look at him like he hung the stars, holding hands in front of the Dragon Queen—on the way back home to Katolis. Ezran gives you pieces of whatever Callum's told him, that Rayla needs a new home. That she got banished.

Every time you're with her at the castle it's a group activity, like sparring or dinner. She doesn't open up easily, even if she's softer—more awkward. You learn that her people like dancing and not much else. Ez and Callum are both very protective of her, Callum especially. She sleeps in a lot. She seems lost. You come along to the Moon Nexus because your king is going, and when Rayla finally asks to talk with you one-on-one, it's because she's chasing answers about your father, and an elf you think she might consider family.

You help Callum and Allen rebuild the Moon Nexus. You don't know what it's for till she's under the water (you don't know that she's scared of water) and Callum is kneeling at the shoreline like he's going to lose his mind with every second that she doesn't surface. The weird Moon lady says your mind will be shattered, that you can be stuck there between life and death forever. Ezran helps Callum dive beneath the waves anyway. It's one of the longest hours of your life, waiting there—because Rayla was brave enough to do what you couldn't, in looking after the boys, and you still have so much to make up for with Callum (plus, Opeli will kill you if you don't come back with the crown prince).

Finally, as the sky begins ever so slightly to lighten, you help drag them out of the water. Callum embraces her—"I couldn't lose you"—like he's never going to let go. Rayla hugs him back just as tight before she kisses him sweetly. You think you'll have to try and entertain Ez tomorrow to give them some privacy, a bit, for Callum's birthday tomorrow.

Rayla is gone in the morning. You don't even hear about what happened from him; Ezran tells you, eyes rimmed in red. Gone without a trace in the middle of the night, leaving only a letter and promises of love behind.

Something bristles inside you; at least your mother had the decency to say goodbye.

Callum is miserable on the way back to Katolis. He doesn't sleep. He doesn't eat. He lasts three weeks before he gets angry, and you never knew his temper could be that bad. He goes off to Xadia to search guided by his wings, and brought back by the cold every few weeks or so, continually empty handed. Opeli grounds him (literally); his mood worsens as snow thickens.

You take the brunt of his anger without complaint, because you is also smirking and good with a sword and worried about Viren, and because Callum took the brunt of your projection and resentment and jealousy for years. You can handle a few months.

It is not just a few months. Callum gets worse, and then, slowly, after the first anniversary of her being gone, he gets better. It means less shouting, but also less of him—he spends more hours locked away in your father's old study, throwing more and more of himself into magic. You remind yourself that it's okay. It's just primal magic.

(Surely, Callum got rid of your father's old dark magic books. Why would he keep them?)

Another year passes. You're upset at Rayla for leaving, for how much she upset both the boys, for how miserable Callum has been. At the same time, you want her to return, not only for their happiness, but for your peace of mind, because if she does, it'll either be with her mission successful and your family vanquished for good, or because there was nothing to find. She might even have information about Claudia.

Then she does show up, and Callum can barely look at her. He brings the mirror to the Storm Spire. When he falls, Rayla catches him. When he retreats to the Pinnacle, she follows, and you interrupt. You protest in the Drakewood, because your father told you that you had to carry burdens alone and that never did anyone good, and Callum lays down distance that feels strange and exclusionary. When Rayla is standoffish amongst the trees, you critique her—over your younger brother figure, but also over the dragon. You don't know how she's become so changed (how she could leave the same way your mother did).

The next time you see her, she's radiantly happy you're alive and gone just as quickly. Then Callum pulls her from the rubble after one heart wrenching moment, because Callum when she was just gone was rough enough, but a Callum when she's dead is awful to imagine, and—

You watch him forgive her in every way that matters. He stays with her at the castle even as you go off with Ezran and Corvus to do important dragon stuff, and holds her hand as they climb out of the water. He gets madder than you've ever seen him when Finnegrin torments her. You watch him do the impossible first hand to save her life.

You watch him offer to get out of the water, to delay the mission, when she's too scared to. (You didn't even know she was scared of water.) You embrace both of them when everything is said and done, once Callum has nearly fallen over in his haste to just hold her hand.

You still, at the end of the day, don't know Rayla that well—bits and pieces to construct a fragmented but real view of someone who's bold and beautiful and brave and kind, but snarky and judgemental and prone to leaving, too. Balanced, even if it's not deep.

But Callum's love for her? It's as deep as the ocean, and that's kinda what matters most.

[sports-on-sundays]

prince not so charming / CL16 / PART 1

Warnings : Mention of death, Mention of sex, Mention of marriage between a minor and an adult (spoken about as a bad thing, not a good thing), Mention of forced marriage, Switching between second and third perspective, Charles acting a bit spoiled maybe.

Summary : Prince!Charles x Princess!Reader - A prince has seven princesses brought to him, and must choose which one he wants to marry.

Author's Note : I've had ideas like this circulating through my head for quite a while, so I figured this would be something good to start my blog off with, especially since I think it's another idea that a lot of other people might enjoy reading. I'm just starting out my blog, so if you read this and you like it, I would really appreciate if you would hit my ask box and request something to support me and help me get going! And of course reblog and follow would be kind too <3 Thank you, and I hope you enjoy my little story.

Requested? : No.

There are six other princesses travelling by chariot today as well, also headed to the same exact castle you're heading to.

When your father, the king of your small island country, told you that the prince of one of the largest countries nearby was sending in for all the single princesses, both you and your father had a plan.

Unlike a lot of countries, yours is just fine with having a woman rule as queen, by herself, so since your mother passed away in childbirth, and you're your father's only child, you've both basically decided that getting married into some other kingdom's royal family is just about the last thing you want to do.

Apparently, this Prince Charles, who is twenty-five, your age, has been being pressured ever since he was eighteen by his family. The story is that they keep trying more and more ladies from all different countries and families, but every single one he sees he quickly dismisses after meeting them, rejecting every single one.

Which, you figure, means he's a spoiled little ungrateful brat, like many of the royals from surrounding kingdoms and countries. Not surprising.

For seven years, his mother and eldest brother have been searching all over for the woman he'll finally accept. Of course, searching only in royal and noble blood.

So now, they're bringing in seven more princesses to see if he'll accept any of them. You're generally not worried about this conceited prince wanting to marry you, but just in case, you and your father have ensured that there's no chance he will.

So you sit in the covered royal chariot, wearing a plain white dress, a men's cloak, your hair very simply down over your shoulders, and dirt smudged on your clothes and face.

Even though it's not your most favourite outfit, it's worth it to avoid at all costs being forced to court with... someone like Prince Charles.

You're sure he'll be disgusted.

Which is good.

You've met all the princesses that will be arriving as well, and you're sure most of them will be more interesting to a prince such as Charles. Apparently, to them, he's known as the most handsome prince around. All of them would be delighted to marry him, and are surely putting forth their best for the prince.

You're sure he just uses his good looks to fake a charming personality, so people like him. That's what all the princes do, but then when you really get to know them, it turns out their personality is really quite devilish in the end, and it was just an act, a show, to get you interested in them.

Soon enough, the chariot you're in stops, and your driver gets out, holding the curtain for you as you lift your skirt to jump out. The driver offers his hand to you for help, but like always, you ignore it and hop out yourself. It's not like when women jump we break our ankles or something. My goodness. You know deep down inside they're just trying to be honorable and kind, but still.

You look up at the castle. It looks very basic, like many other castles you've seen, with it's tall pillars, carved images, and glorious towers reaching up, slicing into the bright merry blue sky.

"Would you like me to walk up with you, or send a servant to go with you, up to the door, Your Highness?" asks your driver with a very low bow.

"No thank you, but I appreciate the offer. I can handle walking by myself. Just carry on."

"Yes, of course, Your Highness," he nods, briskly, with agility, hopping up into the chariot.

You turn away from that, and start walking down the cobblestone path that leads to the third courtyard, which leads to the main gates. When you get to the gates of the third courtyard, a guard grunts at you, not even realizing that you're one of the princesses, because of your means of arrival and presentation, "What's your business here?"

"I'm one of the princesses to meet Prince Charles today," you say simply.

He narrows his eyes. "No, you're no-"

"Listen, guard. This was a message sent only to the princesses, no? How could anyone else know about this? If you do not allow me to enter and go to the castle with all the other princesses here today, I will order my men to go against you in an instant!"

The guard's back straightens. "Right, then, Your Highness! Please, show mercy, and forgive me for my misunderstanding! I'll lead you to where you need to go immediately!"

"You're forgiven. Now, yes, take me there. And let's get this over with."

Charles reclines in his velvet red couch, leaning back as he stares up at the sparkling gold chandelier with a heavy sigh. There's a knock on the door to his room, and he calls, "Who's there?"

His older brother, Lorenzo, enters the room, shutting the door behind him. "Charles, come on now. I thought you were supposed to be getting ready." He ruffles his brother's light, fluffy, tangled hair. "My goodness, Charles, you need to get this cut and washed before you meet the princesses. And clearly you are in need of a shave."

"I don't have to have nice hair or clothes for every last one of those ladies to fall deeply in love with me. In fact, half of them probably are already deeply in love with me," replies the younger with an eye roll and a scoff.

"Charles, you know you have to look more presentable. Stop with all the excuses. Get up now."

"Is Mama gonna cut my hair?"

"Charles, you're just going to have to get it done by a servant. I'm sending one in to get you fixed up now, okay?"

Charles nods, sitting up more with a sigh. "Yes, yes, Lorenzo. Now be on with your day, now, won't you, King?"

"Charles," he says, looking back from the doorway with a sigh. "Do one thing for me, please?"

"Another thing?"

His brother, the king, ignores Charles' little comment and just says, "Please choose your princess today, Charles. Please. Choose the best one for you. I've been trying to give you responsibilities for so long. I think having a lady may help with your..."

"My what? My goodness, Lorenzo, be out of my presence already! Please!"

And with a sigh, the elder brother listens to the younger's order and leaves him to be by himself.

Charles gets up and walks across the room, stopping in front of his mirror to look at himself. His hair is a little tangled, but he doesn't mind it. He always thinks it makes him look better. It reminds him of how he looks after he's won a race, pushed his horses to the limit, with the wind and dust blowing dirt up into his helmet. He's never minded a little bit of danger, and a little bit of dirt. And a little bit of fun.

Yet a part of him loves to look nice, too, for these girls. Not because he's trying to attract any of them.

Maybe just because he feels so strong in those buttoned coats with gold lining, big, black boots, with a beautiful sword at his side.

Maybe all this talk of marriage and pressure to fall in love is a pain, but by now, would he want it any other way?

It's strange the way you get used to the things you hate, so much that you almost start to like them.

The six other princesses sit as far away from you as they can. Naturally, they're disgusted. Not that you care. You figure it's better like that. This way, maybe their sweet perfume won't make you smell any better.

Even the guards in the room seem extremely confused and unimpressed by you.

Which is just fine. It means that hopefully the prince will feel just the same.

Soon, a servant comes in, saying quickly, "I'm sorry for the wait, Most High Ladies of the Land. Our highly respected and honored Prince Charles, the second heir to the throne, after King Lorenzo, may he be honored forever, is still preparing himself to meet you beautiful ladies. I can assure you all that he is very excited to meet you all. Forgive us for the wait."

Of course he's taking long. He's probably quite vain. Just like these girls surrounding you. Quite vain, you know. You can't help but smile to yourself as you ponder upon the fact that perhaps this vain, conceited, self-centred prince could potentially get along quite well with these girls. Prideful people often seem to enjoy the people who are much like themselves, after all, right?

Soon enough, though, they start taking the princesses, one by one, to come and meet the prince. The princesses here are from ages anywhere between fifteen and twenty-five. You realize that the younger one's time meeting Prince Charles is much shorter than the older ones, and even then, the longest time before the servant comes to fetch the next princess is at most fifteen minutes.

Of course, they save you for last. Which you're happy about. After seeing all those beautiful princesses, you're sure Prince Charles will be even more disgusted with you than he would've been originally.

You stand up when the servant gestures you to come, and you walk next to him down the hallway. When you make it to the end of the hallway, there is a small passage with stairs leading up. "I am sorry to tell you that Prince Charles' room is on higher floor. Would you like me to carry you up the stairs, Your Highness?" The servant asks with a bow.

"My goodness! How do you treat your women in his kingdom? What a meeting this shall be with the prince! By the name of God, servant man, no. I can walk up a flight of stairs just fine on my own two feet."

"Of course, Your Highness!" the servant says quickly, and you start walking up the spiraling staircase. You don't doubt that all the other princesses accepted the offer to be carried.

The hallway at the top is much nicer than the one you were just in. It has red carpets, gold lining, and windows all across one wall. You pause to stare out them. They overlook the huge capital city, and you think about all the little common people down there, working for their lives.

It's such a sad concept. While you're up here, worried about having to meet a prince, there are people down there worrying about staying alive.

It's not right. And when you're queen of your island, that's what you want to fix. In your country, your father has it all set up for you.

You want the people to be happy and content.

"Your Highness?" the servant says. "This is Prince Charles' room."

You nod. "Thank you."

"I'll be waiting outside here if either of you need anything."

You nod again, and slowly turn the knob to the door, before stepping in, closing the door behind you gently with a quiet click.

You have never been in the bedroom of a prince before.

There's a huge window overlooking a beautiful bright bluebody of water, which you assume must be the ocean. On the wall is a breastplate and two swords. There's a large wooden wardrobe with beautiful carvings all over it, and sitting on top of it are two helmets- one look's like a knight's helmet, shining with steel, and the other a horse racing helmet with red streaks painted on the sides. Next to the wardrobe is a painting hanging on the wall of a young man with dark shaggy black hair and a playful smile, wearing the elaborate outfit of a king, despite not having the looks of a typical solemn painting of a king. There's a wall with lines of different kinds of plaques and trophies on shelves, glass doors covering them. Prince Charles has a huge grand, wooden but painted white, piano. His huge bed has curtains surrounding it, and next to the bed is a little nightstand. There's a huge desk with parchment and ink sitting on it, and there's a soft red rug over the floor. Hanging on the wall is a large, beautiful, tinted, full body mirror. There is a large empty fireplace, and with it a red velvet couch and matching chair. Next to these pieces of furniture is a table on which a map, a compass, and a bowl of fruit sits. The whole room smells like sweet, calming incense.

And then, after viewing the room, you turn to view the much less interesting prince. He looks like every other. Sure, his face is exceptionally handsome compared to the others, but who cares? He's not that glorious. He wears a tall black shiny boots, red pants, and a long white double-breasted jacket unbuttoned with gold buttons and gold furnishing. Underneath his coat he wears a soft looking poet shirt. The whole outfit fits him quite well, and compliments his thin, lean, but very strong figure nicely.

But the best of his outfit is the sparkling gold crown upon his head. It shines with all different kinds of lovely colorful sparkling jewels. You can't help but think about how heavy that must be on his head.

His brown hair is nicely styled, his eyes bright, and his white smile likely fake.

But the smile quickly vanishes as he can't help but express the surprise on his face when he sees you. "H- Hello," he says. "You are...?"

"Princess Y/n. It's nice to meet you, Prince Charles." You curtsy.

"Nice to meet you, too, Princess," he says with a quick bow, obviously trying not to express his emotions on his face. It's hard not to laugh at this. At this little rich prince trying to hold it together. He takes a step closer to you. "How old are you?" is his first question. He speaks with the accent that it seems many people from this country speak with. You can't help but wonder to yourself if this country has it's own native language.

"Twenty-five, Prince."

He nods. "Me as well. What kingdom are you from?"

You tell him about the island kingdom you come from, and, as expected, he doesn't end up having ever really heard of it much. "How far off the coast are you?" he asks.

"It took half a day to sail here."

He nods once again. "Alright... Uh, why don't you sit down here next to me," he starts, walking to the velvet couch, "and I can tell you a bit about myself, if that's okay with you."

"Of course, Prince. Go on," you answer as you sit down next to each other on the couch. You look over his nice appearance once again.

"I'm the second son of my father, may he rest in peace. My elder brother is king of this country, and my younger one, Prince Arthur, rules nearby conquered land. Me and my wife would be the rulers of a section of land that we have just won over in war, across the river."

"So you're telling me that regardless of being older than your brother, he rules more than you and has a wife, while you don't?" You really couldn't care less. You're just trying to make him dislike you.

He clenches his jaw and says, "It's just taken a little longer for me... I guess."

"Why do you think that could be?"

"I... well, Princess, so far in my life, I've chased after things besides ruling and marriage."

"Right," you say simply.

"So... tell me about yourself. What... makes you... you?"

You can't help but softly chuckle at that question, as the Prince's eyes look you up and down. "Well, isn't this meeting really only about two things?"

"Two things? I'm sorry?" he asks in confusion.

"Whether the princess' beauty suits your tastes, and whether she'll be good to make you your babies."

He stares, wide eyed. "Wow... egh, you're honest, now, aren't you?"

"I suppose I am," you respond with a shrug.

"Right..." is all Charles says, at a loss for words at the princess' way of speaking. This is the first princess that's been so... blunt with him.

And he realizes perhaps this is why he has been avoiding marriage for so long.

He'd rather not getting married to a woman for her intense beauty, and only use her for sex to have his children. He doesn't even want children. Or a wife.

He really just wants to be for himself. Adventure. Have fun. Make the most of life.

"So, Prince Charles, you said you've been chasing after other things besides marriage and ruling? I'm curious to know what."

He swallows. "Really, my lady, it should not matter. I'm really leaving that old life in the past." Or at least trying. Really, every part of Charles hates to think about leaving that life in the past. It's a life he loves.

But, as everyone seems to say to him, Charles, you're not a little boy anymore. You're a grown man at twenty-five, and it's pathetic how little you've got done in life.

To them, what Charles has done is pathetic. To Charles, what he's got done is success.

"I still want to hear, Prince Charles."

Charles sighs. He figures it doesn't matter if this girl knows or not. He's sure no one would want him picking her, anyway. So who cares if she has a strange view of him? "I love chariot racing. It's my passion. I love it so, so much. See those trophies in that case? Those are from racing. I love the adrenaline, and the danger. I love the speed. That's one thing. I also love music. I play on that piano all the time. I'm not interested in getting married... I mean, I guess I can be kind of romantic, but I don't want to get married for the reasons everyone says I should. They always bring me these women that all seem to act exactly the same, with the same clothes, same personality... And then they get annoyed at me for loving none of them. They try to put me in armor and get me to fight if I'm not going to marry, but that's never turned out either. Even though I have the strength for it, I don't want to do it. I don't want to go out on battlefields and shed the blood of other men. Maybe that makes me a coward, I don't know. Maybe it makes me 'not a man'. I don't know. But I can't help it. It's just the way I am."

The look on this princess' face seem to be a mixture of extreme curiosity, regret, worry, and empathy. Which is confusing.

"Prince Charles, I'm sorry. You're very unlike many princes I've met. But I think you're just fine."

"I'd say you're quite unlike all the princesses I've met. And I think you're fine, too. The bothersome thing is that I basically have to choose one of you seven today. By the way, Princess, usually I wouldn't be saying this. But I just can see that you aren't like the rest. I can tell I can trust you."

"Why do you have to choose one of us now?" the girl questions.

Charles sighs, glancing down at this rug. "I don't want to make this seem like this is any of my family's doing. They love me, and want the best for me. But I have advisors put in place, that in a way have authority over me, and have told me if I don't choose a princess today, then they'll choose. And I know who they'll choose. There's a princess in a very, very large kingdom very nearby, and they've been waiting until she turns fifteen. She's fifteen now, and I'm sure they'll force me to marry her, because having a marriage with a kingdom as big as that is just wise, when it comes to government. But I am not marrying mere girl who is ten years younger than me. There is no way."

She nods. "That's... That's good. Very wise. There are lots of princes I know of that would do just that. So I respect your decision in that very much. But I suppose the best thing for you to do is to just choose the nicest out of those girls to marry. It's a hard situation to be in, though. I'm sorry for you."

"Are you really a princess?" Charles asks, looking the woman in her eyes.

"Yes, I am."

Charles reaches over and wipes a smudge of dirt off her cheek with his thumb, before holding it up in front of her. "What is this all about then?"

"I didn't want to doll myself up. Just like you, I don't want to marry, really. I'm into other things that are uncommon as well."

"Like what, Princess?"

"Well, racing as well. I like hunting with my bow and arrow. I love swimming, and going for walks, and gardening. Most people think princesses always enjoy indoors more, but I love the outdoors. And luckily, in my kingdom, I'm allowed to spend my time outside. I don't like singing or dancing or reading or knitting or doing makeup or dresses or anything, like most people expect princesses to."

Prince Charles suddenly takes your hand and says intensely, "I have an idea."

You narrow your eyes at him, feeling suspicion sink deeper within you. "What...?"

"If neither of us want to marry, then if we married each other, then we could get along more. Like, I'm not saying we fall in love. I'm just saying if neither of us are willing to fall in love, then we marry each other."

"I see your point, Prince Charles," you start, "but it's quite selfish, what you're planning. While you're being forced to marry, I'm not. So while for you it would be a step up, for me it would be a step down."

He continues to hold your hand, though. "I would let you live in your country and rule it as you please. Please, Princess Y/n. It would be... such a favor for me. Seriously, the only time you'd have to see me is when we're invited to dinners and what not."

"Oh, yes, the only time I'd have to see you is for dinners, and as well, perhaps, to come to bed with you to give birth to your heirs! Prince, I do not-"

"Can I ask you a question?"

"What? It's rude to interrupt."

"I've stopped trying not to be rude by now! Just let me ask my question!"

"Go on, Prince Charles."

He sighs, giving your hand a little squeeze. "Do you realise that if you want to protect your own kingdom, and keep it as it is as well, that you're going to need an heir?"

You swallow.

What a terrible, awful turn this has taken.

You should've just dressed and acted like all the other princesses.

But you had no idea that Prince Charles would be so...

Such a square peg in a round hole.

Much like you are.

This time you squeeze his hand, which is very, very smooth, and would feel nice, if it weren't so sweaty at this very moment.

He barely whispers, "Please."

He's so desperate.

What will your father say?

You suppose you'd just have to explain the whole thing to him.

"Listen, Prince Charles," you say, slipping your hand out of his, standing up. "I do not want to marry you. I ask you not to marry me. But I understand your point of view, and I understand that I should expect that regardless of what I've said, you still might choose to marry me."

He stands up with you. After getting to know him more, he looks much more handsome than he did in the beginning.

And then he says something shocking. "I think you're beautiful."

You stare, eyes wide. "I'm sorry, what?"

He reaches over and wipes the other smudge of dirt from your face. "I think you're beautiful."

"How? I went out of my way to look ugly."

"It's your personality that shines through those lovely eyes of yours."

"Wow... Thank you, Prince... You weren't lying when you said you were... romantic. Although you know if this is some way to manipulate me into wanting to marry you, I'm sorry. I've got my mind set on no."

He shakes his head. "That's not what I was trying to do. I was just telling you that... Showing you that... No matter what you do to your appearance, I still thought you're beautiful."

You stare into those bright green eyes, and for a moment, there's a little pit in your stomach. But not a bad one. Like there's something flying up within you. You take a step closer to him, and say, "Prince Charles, you are a very special person. You really are. To see past all the makeup and dresses and perfumes, and look for the one with the personality you like the most? That's extraordinary."

He gently puts his smooth hand to your cheek and says, "You've got to be special as well. After all these years of seeing all these ladies and princesses that I could choose to marry, and you're the first one I have any kind of feelings for. Your humility is so admirable... You just want to be there for your country. You're amazing."

You swallow, nodding. "I don't want to marry, but out of all the princes I've met, you're the only one I would marry if I had to."

"You're the... You're the princess I would marry, and I have to."

You sigh. "I beg you not to say me, but I understand, fairly enough, you're looking at your own best interest. So if you... If you end up having to say me, please let me be there for your country."

"I'll say you, but I'm putting a lot on the line."

"Like what?"

"If my advisors don't like you, which is likely, they'll make me marry the fifteen year old, likely. But it's worth it. I think putting so much on the line is worth it to be with a lady like you. Because I know I won't meet another princess like you. They likely won't even let me, though, so you're probably safe."

And suddenly, your heart softens as you look at his longing eyes, and you say gently, "Prince Charles, say you'll sleep on your decision. They'll have us princesses stay at this castle for the night. In the morning, I'll make sure I look just like the others."

"Cover up your beautiful face with all that makeup?"

"Just so your advisors accept me."

He stares, wide eyed, before suddenly hugging you.

"Oh my goodness," you breathe.

"Don't tell anyone I've hugged you."

Hugging is reserved for, in tradition, only those who are courting or related to each other, so this in a way fills you with guilt, because you know how much people would look down on you if they knew he was hugging you so tight.

You smile to yourself, though, and hug him back, even tighter.

Who cares if they look down on you?

Prince Charles steps away out of the hug, before bowing to you, taking your hand, and kissing it, before saying, "I suppose you should leave now, Princess Y/n. I'll see you later."

[asta-writes-stufff]

Hii could I request a campbell x reader, meet cute fic? Either pre-, or post-canon would be perfect :)

Thanks so much for the request!! I wrote this with post-canon in mind but I guess you could read it as pre-canon too. Not very edited and Im not the biggest fan of the ending but I still think its ok :)

cw: nothing :)

wc: 849

You hum quietly to yourself as you walk through the small aisles of the record shop you’re in. You’re not really looking for anything specific, just browsing and seeing if anything catches your eye. It’s been a long day at work and you’ve got things to do this afternoon. All you can think about is how much you can’t wait to get home later, throw on a new record, and relax. 

You’re idly flipping through the rock section when you glance up and spot a Queen album on display up on the wall across from you, one you’ve been looking for for at least a few months now. You stare at it, hardly believing you’ve finally found it. It’s like the album is calling out to you, begging you to come over and remove it from its place of honour on the wall. You immediately bee-line for it, speed-walking through a few short aisles, just to poke your head around the corner and see someone gently picking it up from its display stand. 

The man holding the record turns to look at you when you let out a huge sigh. You realise you just did that out loud as he stares at you. He glances between you and the record for a second before holding it out to you. 

“Did you want this?” He asks you, giving you a smile that’d absolutely melt your heart if this record wasn’t on the line right now. You blink at him for a second before snapping back to reality to respond.

“Yeah I did, but you keep it, you got to it first.” You try to laugh gracefully but it just comes out awkward and horribly staccato.

“No, really, you can have it.” He insists, thrusting the record towards you. “I’ve already got the album, I just wanted this particular record.” He waves the record at you. Your eyes are drawn to how the fluorescent lights flickering above you flash off of the plastic wrap of the vinyl. God, you want that record.

You slowly reach out your hand to take it from him, finally processing how handsome he is. Cute hair, pretty eyes, fairly tall too. “If you’re sure…” You say slowly, flicking your eyes from him to the album in your hands. God, it’s almost as pretty as he is. 

“Yeah, o’course. S’all yours.” He chuckles at how awestruck you seem by the vinyl in your hands. “You been looking for this one for a while?” 

“Yeah. I have. Months. Can’t believe I finally found it. Been to every store in this damn city looking for it.” 

“Don’t blame ya, it’s a great album. Always loved Queen.” 

You suddenly remember your manners and look back up from the record in your hands to face him. “Thank you so much. I really appreciate it.” 

He gives you that brilliant smile again and this time it does melt you. 

“So what other bands are you into?” You ask him, desperately trying to prolong this conversation between the two of you. 

~~

You both talk for another ten minutes before you remember you’ve got somewhere to be. God, why do you have to be busy now? When you’ve finally got this album you’ve spent hours and hours searching for and this really cute guy in front of you?

“I should probably get going,” You share hesitantly, “Pretty busy this afternoon. Thanks again so much for letting me have this record, you really don’t know how much this means to me, I mean I’ve spent weeks…” You trail off as you wander towards the checkout counter with him following behind you. 

He smiles at you again, clearing his throat once you get to the counter. “Before you go, I was wondering if maybe I could get your number? You’re really sweet and pretty and we seem to have a lot in common and-”

“Yes!” You cut him off, immediately cringing at how eager you sounded but brushing it off quickly. You scan your surroundings for a second, wondering where and with what you can write your number down before he’s gently pushing a pen into your fingers and holding the back of his hand out for you to write on. You give him a quick grin before turning your attention to his hand and writing out your phone number for him. 

The store clerk notices you at the counter and rushes over to check you out, and soon the record is finally, officially yours. You thank the clerk excitedly and turn your attention back to the man in front of you.

“Hear from you soon…?” You ask him, trailing off, realising you don’t even know his name. 

“Oh, Campbell. Bain.” His face flushes just enough for you to notice (and swoon) before he’s asking you your name. 

You tell him your name, giving him one last smile and a wave before pushing the door to the small shop open and stepping outside, taking in a deep breath of the fresh air. That has to have been your most successful trip to a record shop ever.