#Summer romance

[ceevee5]

[humanpurposes]

August, Series Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen x Reader // Modern AU

It's a summer of promise and possibility, your first since graduating university. Your family has been invited to spend August at Dragonstone, where things get a little tense after an unfortunate first encounter with Aemond Targaryen, one he's determined to put right.

Main Masterlist

General Warnings: 18+, eventual smut, slight enemies to lovers, Aemond's grovelling a bit, mutual pining, (will add more as the series goes on)

Part 1: Possibilities and Peace Offerings Part 2: Tell Me What You Want Part 3: Summer's Over

Moodboards and such

Old Money Summer Moodboard

[hairmetal666]

Eddie's supposed to be writing. The guys, they all agreed they'd each come to practice armed with two whole new songs they could pick from to add to their set list at the Hideout. And he's got his pen, and he's got his most recent trusty Composition Book, and all his lyrics are fucking bullshit about golden tanned skin and honeyed eyes and tracing constellations in freckles and moles, pathetic lines about being twisted in bed sheets, and the hopeless love he found himself in.

For the fifth time in an hour, he rips out the offending page, crunches it into a tight ball, and throws it across the room.

He can't write about Steve Harrington for the rest of his life; spend his nights aching for the boy who established himself as a fixture in Eddie's life and then just disappeared.

The worst of it--the very worst--is that Eddie knew better. Steve was never his, not in any real way, no matter how many times they fucked. He's Steve Harrington. Straightest guy in Hawkins. Popular. Rich. Whole fucking life laid out for him on a silver platter. And Eddie fell for him. It's the Munson curse, he supposes; always wanting what you can't have.

It started the way these things usually do, "got any weed?" and "come back to my place, Harrington" and "I got this stupid job at the mall, meet me there?" and lying "hey, guys, can't make band practice, gotta help Uncle Wayne" and "Munson, I really want--can I kiss you?"

In every other fantasy Eddie's ever had, it ends there. Steve gets his kiss and they never see each other again. But Steve Harrington--he's full of surprises. It catches Eddie off guard, makes him want, makes him trust. Because it's not just kisses. It's hands and mouths and "anything you want, Eddie. Let me make you feel good."

Maybe it wouldn't have hit so hard--maybe Eddie could've stopped from falling--if Steve hadn't been so good. Bitchy, sure, but genuine and kind. Had this whole gaggle of junior high kids he babysat, like what the fuck. Would hang out with Wayne and shoot the shit about whatever sports nonsense was on tv. Harrington never was as mean, as spoiled, as superficial as Eddie suspected.

Then Starcourt. That's when it all changes. Steve stops coming around then, in the aftermath. It hurts, but Eddie tells himself it's for the best. Now, he knows it would have been.

Two weeks with no contact, and Steve shows up at his door in the middle of the night. Eddie winces at the healing bruises and cuts on his face, can't imagine how much worse they were to start. He steps aside, lets Steve in, plans to say that he can't be whatever they are anymore.

Steve kisses him. It's a hot, needy thing, wild with teeth and tongue, nothing like before. Eddie is helpless to it, helpless to the way Steve grinds against him, already hard. He should slow it down, check-in that Steve is in the right headspace for this, but Steve is moaning low in his throat and Eddie can't think.

They're in Eddie's bed and Steve says, "fuck me, Eddie?" and Eddie says "are you sure" because he can't stop himself. Steve rolls his eyes (beautifuly bitchy), says, "I need to feel you inside me, baby."

How can Eddie say no?

Eddie's never done this before, but it doesn't matter. It's everything--Steve is everything--he could ask for.

The next morning, he expects Steve to be gone. Thinks they'll never see each other again. But he finds Steve in the kitchen, in his boxers and Eddie's Iron Maiden shirt, making eggs and talking to Wayne like it's the most normal thing in the world.

The next month and a half are the best of Eddie's life. He and Steve spend more time together than they do apart. Nights at Eddie's trailer, in Eddie's bed. Days lounging at the Harrington pool and driving around the nothing that surrounds Hawkins. Sometimes they'll stop in the middle of nowhere, climb on top of the van, and just--be. Steve takes his shirt off, and Eddie traces their names in the sun-soaked freckles, thinking maybe he really gets to have this, have Steve.

It ends as quickly as it started. One morning in September, Steve is cupping Eddie's neck, pulling him in for a goodbye kiss, saying, "sorry, baby, gotta get home for my parents. I'll see you later tonight, yeah?"

Except Eddie doesn't. Eddie doesn't see Steve that night, or the night after, or the night after that. He stops coming around and all Eddie is left with is a broken heart and these piss poor excuses for songs.

He rips out the latest page, waxing lyrical about the wonders of August, and time slipping away, and the boy he'll never forget. Crumples it into a ball and bats it into a pile of junk accumulated in the corner of his room.

Eddie needs a break.

He flies into the living room, snatches up his keys from the floor by the coffee table, and flees his house and all those memories of Steve. It's not like he has anywhere specific to go, so he drives around town, with his windows down and his music up.

His tires screech as he rounds the corner to the video store and arcade. He's not planning on stopping, but honestly, maybe a few rounds of Space Invaders is exactly what he needs.

The van hasn't even come to a stop in the parking spot when his eyes fall on Steve Harrington. He's standing in the middle of the parking lot surrounded by a gang of kids (including some of Eddie's new little sheepies) and Robin Buckley. Steve wears a sunny yellow sweatshirt, tight jeans, and his hair is perfectly coifed, falling in an elegant wave. His hands are on his hips, mouth and brows pinched stern. He's gorgeous, perfect.

It's an assault, an attack, Eddie's entire body shakes as the months they spent together crash over him. He has the van in reverse before he consciously thinks to do so, flooring it out of the space hard enough to burn rubber.

The noise, the speed, it draws the entire group's attention to him.

His eyes meet Steve's.

Time stops and so does he, idling in the middle of the parking lot. For a second, one moment in time, Steve's face falls. His mouth loses that grumpy pinch, his eyebrows drop, his beauty transformed by grief, by fucking longing.

Steve takes a step forward, and Eddie hits the gas, van screaming out of the parking lot. He watches the group shrink in his rearview mirror, sure that he imagined the sorrow in Steve's face, anyway.

They're nothing to each other.

Never were.

By popular request: Part Two

[drspleenmeister]

@leclercskiesahead yup!

[reachedrafe]

The edge of the island

Summary : On a summer night in the Outer Banks, you find yourself caught in a dangerously seductive encounter with Rafe Cameron, where desire and danger collide.

Warnings : Sexual content (no actual smut!), Power dynamics, Kinda dark themes, Very mild aggressive behaviour in interactions

This is my first post so let's be nice please! 🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾

The air in the Outer Banks was definitely not thin, the opposite at that. It was thick with the scent of saltwater and wild jasmine, mingling together as the summer sun began to slowly set. The parties on the island were infamous and tonight was no different. The sound of laughter, giggles, glasses clinking and music echoed through the night as you found yourself wandering towards the darker side of the beach, away from the bonfires and revelry.

You weren't sure why you had come. Something about the night felt weirdly different, a pull you couldn't quite explain. Maybe it was the whispers you had heard, the one about the pouges and the Cameron's. The island was full of stories, but none were as exciting, as dangerous, as the ones surrounding Rafe Cameron.

The Cameron estate loomed in the distance, half hidden behind the tall palms and thick foliage, but you knew the path well. You had been there before-many times, in fact. But tonight the mansion felt more ominous, as though it was holding its breath, waiting for something. Or someone.

"Looking for something?" a voice drawled from behind you, sending a shiver down your spine.

You turned, your breath hitching as you came face to face with the man himself. Rafe Cameron. His blond hair was slightly tousled, and there was the signature smirk tugging at his lips, the one that made your heart race in equal parts fear and excitement. His eyes dark and hooded, raked over you with an intensity that made your knees weak.

"I think I found it" you breathed out, your voice steady, though you could feel the wild fluttering in your chest.

Rafe's smirk deepend, a wicked glint sparkling in his eyes as he stepped closer, his body heat radiating into the space between you. "You sure about that?" he murmured, his voice low, the words laced with a seductive challenge.

Before you could answer, his hand was on your waist, pulling you against him. Sudden contact stole your breath, your body molding to his as if you'd been here a thousand times before. His touch was firm, possessive, the heat of his skin searing through the thin fabric of your dress.

"Rafe," you whispered, the sound of his name on your lips feeling both like a prayer and curse.

He dipped his head, his lips ghosting over your neck, just enough to make you shiver. "You've been playing this game for a while now," he said, his voice rough and dark, each word sending sparks down your spine "but do you even know the rules?"

Your breath hitched as his teeth grazed the sensitive skin just under your ear, his hand sliding lower, fingers pressing into the small of your back. "Maybe I don't care about the rules," you manage to say, your voice trembling with a mixture of defiance and desire.

Rafe chuckled, the sound low and dangerous, vibrating through you. "That's were it gets interesting," he murmured, his lips brushes against yours in a tantalising tease that left you aching for more.

You could feel the tension in the air, thick and electric, as if the very night was holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen next. Rafe's hand moved with a slow deliberate intent, each touch a promise of something more, something darker. His lips finally met yours, not with the soft, tentative pressure of a first kiss, but with a raw, hungry intensity that sent shockwaves through your whole body.

He kissed you like he was claiming you, like you were a prize he had been hunting, and now that he had you, he wasn't letting go. His hands roamed your body, exploring with a kind of urgency that matched the wild rhythm of your heartbeat.

As his mouth moved against yours, his hands slid up your thighs, his fingers trailing heat in there wake. The darkness of the night closed in around you, the world shrinking down to just the two of you, to feel his body pressed against yours, the taste of him on your lips.

Rafe pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his breath ragged. "Tell me you want this," he demanded, his voice low and rough, the words sending a thrill of anticipation through you.

Your answer was immediate with no hesitation, "I want this" you breathed, your voice heavy with the same dark desire that mirrored in his eyes.

His lips crashed against yours once more, the kiss deeper, more intense, as if your words had unleashed something in him. And on that moment, nothing else mattered, not the whispers, not the danger, not the darkness that surrounded him. All that mattered was the way he made you feel, the way he was unravelling you with every touch, every kiss pushing you closer to the edge of something thrillingly unknown.

[hbyrde36]

Midsummer Nights (a.k.a Summer Camp Fic)

It's finally here! This one has been percolating for a while, and I'm so glad to have the start of the story written and out there. Updates might be a little sporadic until my Steddie big bang is complete, but I'm so excited to finally give this fic some attention!

WC: 3154 | R: Explicit (for eventual smut) | Ch 1/? | AO3

Chapter 1

Steve had been a camper at Sunset Lake since almost before he could remember. 

He was seven that first summer, and hadn’t spent more than a night away from his own bed before, for sleepovers with family or childhood friends. 

Regardless, his parents didn’t hesitate to dump him off in the middle of nowhere upstate for the full eight weeks the camp ran, with total strangers, many of whom were hardly more than kids themselves, the second he was old enough to attend. From then on, Mr. and Mrs. Harrington spent their own summers partying it up at the country club, pretending they didn’t have a son. 

It used to hurt, having the fact that they didn’t give a shit about him shoved so blatantly in his face. When he was still young and hopeful he would wait patiently by the front gates every visitor’s day, hoping that the next car full of visiting parents and family would be for him. 

It never was.

And by the time he turned eleven, he had stopped waiting. 

He also stopped signing up for activities that he had chosen only to impress his dad, like tennis, basketball, rock climbing—even if he was good at them—and instead began to fill his days with art, theater, and music. Anything that caught his interest, even if he was terrible at it. 

Suddenly he lived for those eight weeks of summer that used to leave him feeling so lonely and unloved. Knowing it was the one place, the one time of year, where he could be the most himself. And he was too busy with performances and showing off the projects he’d completed on visitor’s days to think too much about the fact that no one ever came to see him. 

That was how he met Robin, his best friend and platonic soulmate. They were twelve and had both auditioned for roles in Shakespeare in the Summer, a series of famous scenes from the playwright's works, a pet project of the counselor who ran the theater department meant to be the big final show at the end of camp that year. They got the roles of Romeo and Juliet, respectively. 

As they rehearsed he developed a very small, but still very embarrassing crush on his co-star and eventually confessed, knowing he would feel guilty about kissing her if she didn’t know how he felt. 

Robin broke it to him gently, explaining that while she’d grown to like him a lot, as a friend, over the time they’d been working on their scene together, he just wasn’t her type. 

The last bit was said with a particular significance, but Steve, oblivious to what she was so subtly trying to convey, had protested that he was everyone’s type. She’d rolled her eyes and given him a fond, if exasperated, smile, and after swearing him to secrecy, put it in plain terms he could understand. 

She was a lesbian. 

Robin liked girls, exclusively, and her tastes ran long in soft skin, cherry red lips, and blonde ponytails—all of which Steve, for better or worse, lacked.

It was the 90’s, and the world was slowly changing, so it wasn't as if Steve had never heard of gay people before… it's just that he had never met one in real life. He accepted her immediately, his crush gone in a flash like it had never existed, and felt a kinship with her snap into place that he didn’t quite understand at the time, but was so obvious looking back. 

In the end they faked the kiss. Steve grabbed Robin’s face with both hands and all the faux passion he could muster, slipping his thumbs between their lips at the last second to keep them from crossing that particular line, and she had trusted him to do it. 

They were inseparable from that day forward. 

As promised, he kept her secret, and exactly one year later after coming to terms with a few realizations of his own—namely that he wasn’t as straight as he assumed, that in fact, he wasn’t sure he actually liked girls at all—when he confessed a secret of his own as they walked along the edge of the lake before curfew, he knew she would do the same for him.

This summer they were eighteen, part of the graduating class of 1999, on the brink of college, and finally old enough to be hired as full fledged counselors with paychecks and days off and everything. 

Not that it paid much, but Steve wasn’t in it for the money. He was in it for the love of the place. Sunset Lake Camp had become a second home to him over the last decade of his life, his real home, and the people there like family. There were always a few new faces that came and went, but most of the kids and staff alike came back year after year like him.

Robin was mainly in it for Steve, excited at the prospect of getting to spend the entire Summer with him for once instead of the single session, two short weeks, she was used to—all her folks had been able to afford each year growing up. 

It was poised to be the best summer of Steve’s life. 

Then he met Eddie. 

-

Pre-camp was exactly what it sounded like. A full week of cleaning, painting, maintenance, and general setting up of the place before the first crop of kids was set to arrive. It wasn’t mandatory for the staff, and some counselors wouldn’t even arrive until the day before the first session began, but it did come with an extra paycheck and the opportunity to get out of his parents house that much sooner. 

Steve was so in.

And naturally, that meant Robin was too.

They both arrived mid afternoon. Steve had driven himself in his beloved second hand BMW all the way from Hawkins, his excitement mounting as the scenery changed, flat boring highways finally giving way to lush green rolling hills and mountains, the roads eventually going from asphalt, to crushed stone, to dirt as he turned onto camp property and made his way to the employee parking lot. Robin arrived just after, her parents' car rolling to a stop next to his while he was still unloading his duffel bags from the trunk.  

Steve had offered to pick her up on his way so they could ride in together, it wouldn’t have added that much time to his own trip, but Mr. and Mrs. Buckley would never give up the opportunity to see their only daughter off for the summer, no matter how old she was. They were good parents, and just plain good people.

Robin was horribly embarrassed by the sheer number of hugs they gave her, and Steve, before finally getting back in their car to head home, and he couldn’t help wondering if she knew how lucky she was. His own parents had hardly looked up from their coffee when he’d said goodbye to them that morning.

“How was the drive?” Robin asked with her face squished against Steve's chest, as he pulled her in for his own bone-crushing hug. God he fucking missed her. Emails and once a week phone calls just weren’t enough. Damn long distance fees.

“Long, boring, the usual.” He said, pulling away from her reluctantly. 

In truth he didn’t mind the long journey. It was nice getting to shut his brain off, and sing along at full volume to whatever songs had made it on American Top 40 with Casey Kasem that week.

The low rumble and put-put-put of an old engine had them both looking up, signaling the arrival of Director Hopper in his ancient pickup truck, its tires kicking up dirt and rocks no matter how slowly he drove. 

The truck rolled to a stop in front of them, and the man behind the wheel leaned out the open window to wave. “Long time no see, kids!”

“Hop,” Robin whined, “we’re not kids anymore.”

“Oh! My apologies—Miss Buckley, Mister Harrington.”

Steve wrinkled his nose. “Okay, now you're just being mean.”

Hopper threw his head back and laughed, before stepping out of the truck. “You know you’ll always be kids to me.”

After another round of hugs the man helped load their stuff up into the back, then helped both of them climb up on top of their piled luggage.

As the truck bumped along slowly towards the north side of the campus, where the bunks were, Hopper slid open the back window of the truck so he could shout out to them.

“Me and Joyce got two of the cabins fixed up already so you-all have someplace clean to sleep tonight. One for the women, one for the men.” Hopper’s eyes narrowed as he stared them down through his rearview mirror. He, along with almost everyone else, thought they were dating and had been for years. If he only knew how wrong he was. “Dinner is at six tonight in the dining hall, and I suggest you settle in and relax till then. The real work starts tomorrow.”

“You sure you don't need help with anything today?” Steve asked, sticking his head through the little window to make sure the older man could hear him.

“Thanks kid, but I got it covered. All that’s left today really is picking up a few international staff from the airport. I would have been on my way there already, but the flight got delayed, not due in till late tonight now.”

It was one of Steve’s favorite things about this place, getting to meet and make friends with all sorts of people from all over the world. The cultural exchange program that the camp worked with brought in support staff and counselors from other countries that wanted to come work for the summer, many of them visiting America for the very first time.

Soon enough they came to the end of the road, hooking a left through a break in the trees and came out into a huge clearing. Two giant half circles made up of small white and green buildings faced each other, with a wide open field between them where, in a week’s time, kids would be found lounging around on towels and blankets in the sun, or throwing frisbees and baseballs to each other during their free period. 

Hopper pulled over on the girl’s side, which was fair—if sexist—considering Robin had more stuff than Steve did, and got them unloaded before quickly heading off with a reminder about dinner.

Robin slid her backpack on and began to drag her small trunk up the old wooden steps of the cabin. 

Steve heaved her big duffel bag over his shoulder and moved to follow, but she spun abruptly, letting the trunk drop, slapping a hand hard against his chest before his foot even made contact with the lowest board. 

“Woah, woah, woah, where do you think you’re going?” She asked.

“Seriously? I’m just trying to help you with your stuff!” 

“Yes, seriously! You know boys aren't allowed in the girl’s cabins!” She whispered boys as though it were a dirty word.

Steve snorted. “I’m pretty sure those rules are for the campers, Rob, not us, and what could possibly happen?! There’s no two people on the planet less likely to hook up than you and me.”

“Yeah but people don’t know that, Harrington!” 

She was right. As much as camp had always been Steve's safe haven, his sexuality was still something he felt the need to hide, as did Robin. They just couldn’t be sure how their peers would react, and he wanted to believe Hopper would be accepting and open minded but what if he wasn’t? What if he fired them, or used it as an excuse not to invite them back to work next year, because parents might freak out if they knew their children were being ‘exposed to the gays’? 

Steve couldn’t lose this place, for that reason or any other. 

He tossed her bag up the short staircase and onto the porch, letting his shoulders slump in defeat.

“Don’t pout. I just don't want to get in trouble on our first day,” Robin said.

“Yeah, me either,” he agreed.

“Good. Now move along to your own bunk.” She dropped her voice down low, looking around before she spoke again, wriggling her eyebrows. “I’m sure Jonathan will be around to help you get settled in.”

“You’re never gonna let me live that stupid crush down, are you?” 

“Nope.”

“It was two years ago!” Steve hissed.

“I still say you had a chance.”

Steve sighed heavily. “Even if he wasn’t straight—” he began but Robin cut him off with a judgy stare.

“You don’t know that.” She said.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “But even if he wasn't, I told you, I'm not getting in the middle of whatever on-again off-again dance he and Nancy are doing.”

Robin tilted her head from side to side. “That’s fair. She scares me.”

“Me too.”

-

Jonathan was, as a matter of fact, already at the men’s temporary cabin, greeting Steve with a hug and everything, and offering to help him carry his stuff inside. Not that he’d be telling Robin any of that. 

His brief crush had been nothing short of awkward. They’d known each other since they were little, Jonathan’s mom being the camp nurse, and Hopper becoming his and his brother Will’s stepfather a few years ago, and out of nowhere Steve couldn’t even have a conversation with the guy without blushing and stuttering. Thankfully, the other boy’s sad little puppy dog eyes didn’t really do anything for him anymore.

They talked a little, making the usual catching up small talk that you do with people you know well but maybe aren't truly friends with, and soon were joined by a new face, fresh off a days long road trip from California. 

Argyle greeted Steve and Jonathan like they were all long lost pals. He had the longest, shiniest hair, the most colorful wardrobe Steve had ever seen, and his smile was infectious. He also absolutely reeked of weed, and within minutes had talked Jonathan into taking a walk in the woods with him to “open their minds”. It was clear the two stoners were well on their way to becoming best friends.

Steve left them to it, knowing Robin would kill him if he showed up to dinner high and smelling of smoke. 

He chose a bed by the door and started making it up, tucking the sheets in tight and tossing his ugly plaid comforter on top. There was no point in really unpacking until they got their final bunk assignments, the night before the kids came, so after pulling out a few random t-shirts, shorts, and a bathing suit, and shoving them all into one of the cubby holes built into the walls of the cabin, Steve grabbed his discman and headphones and went to lay out in the sun. 

-

It was late, well past midnight and Steve had been tossing and turning for the last several hours. He never slept well on the first night of camp, the quiet always taking a little time for him to get used to, and It was no wonder he heard the soft footfalls of someone walking up the steps of the cabin.

The door opened slowly, revealing a figure painted in silhouette by moonlight. A riot of wild hair, and a guitar case slung across the boy’s back were all Steve could make out at first through his barely slitted eyelids. 

He watched, careful not to move too much and give away that he was awake as the boy quietly closed the door behind himself, and tiptoed further into the cabin, tossing his stuff down beside the bunk right next to Steve’s. It meant Steve had a perfect view of the newcomer’s backside as he bent to slide his guitar under the mattress frame and unzipped his bag. He straightened with an arm full of linens and hastily made up the bed, not even tucking the bottom corners of his fitted sheet in before throwing a quilt over the whole thing and calling it done, and began to undress. 

Steve swallowed hard, knowing he should probably look away now, or at least close his eyes, if for no other reason than to put on a better show of being asleep in case the other boy’s gaze swung his way, but he was enthralled.

The unfamiliar figure was still blanketed in shadow, but stood close enough now that Steve could make out a pair of huge sparkling dark eyes, brown he assumed, though the night had a way of stealing all the color from the world, to go with the boy’s even darker curls. A rounded nose and full pouty lips made up the rest of a face that would, Steve was fairly certain, now and forever haunt his dreams, as well as his every waking thought. 

He wanted to scream. 

He’d never felt so drawn to someone at first sight before. How much worse would it be once he saw this vision of beauty in daylight?

Powerless to resist the urge, Steve let his gaze roam down past the curve of the other boy’s jaw, eyes drinking in whatever details they could. The bob of an adams apple as he swallowed, the outline of his collarbones, black and gray markings on his chest and arms—tattoos that Steve couldn’t quite make out the shapes of. A trail of dark hair ran from his navel to the top of his pants, stark and inviting against pale white skin.

The boy reached for the button on his jeans and Steve did look away then. It was one thing to see the same skin that might be on display when someone took their top off down by the lake or at the pool, but another to ogle someone below the belt when they didn’t even know they were being watched.

Second passed and a dull thump had Steve snapping his eyes back open, grateful the other boy still had his boxers on at least, so he didn’t feel like too much of a creep. 

“Bollocks,” the stranger cursed softly, hopping on one foot for a second as he sucked air between his teeth, nursing a stubbed toe.

Steve’s stomach flipped at the sound of his voice.

International, right. He had an accent. Of course he did, obviously, Steve just hadn’t thought—

Why was that so hot?

He groaned internally, he hadn’t even properly seen the guy’s face yet and he was already absolutely fucked. 

Finally, mercifully, the other boy climbed into bed, yawning as he pulled the quilt up over his head, turning to face the other way.

And it was to the sound of this intriguing stranger’s breath that Steve finally drifted away into a fitful sleep.

Steve's Summer Mix Eddie's Summer Mix

Thanks as always to the lovely @penny00dreadful for being the best beta, friend and cheerleader.

Permanent taglist(open): @penny00dreadful @pearynice @hitlikehammers @bookworm0690 @wonderland-girl143-blog 

@goodolefashionedloverboi @themagicalari @awkwardgravity1 @rocknrollsalad

Fic taglist (open):

[lyralee333]

When you are 125,000 thousand words into a slow burn enemies to lover's fanfiction and they finally hold hands. Que the giggling, and book throwing.

[betterthanthemovies]

book mail! 💌

[nerdherderette]

Riptide

The sun and sand, some tasty waves, and a salt-filled breeze are all Derek needs.

Somehow, Stiles works his way into the equation.

[excerpt]: Stiles looks out toward the water. The sun's rays catch him at an angle that makes his eyes look golden, and Derek can see the individual grains of sand that dust his face. "You know the worst thing about it all?" Stiles asks softly. "It's that I'm going to be known forever as the goofy sidekick on a kid's show. Like, that's my legacy." Derek takes a deep breath. He can relate. He was once considered a prodigy in the surfing world: touted as the next Kelly Slater after he'd won several local competitions right out of high school and then the Billabong Pipeline Masters at twenty, followed by a second-place finish at qualifiers for the US Open of Surfing. The recognition was heady; the groupies and sponsors, more so. And then there was Kate, who had entered Derek's life as hot and quick as wildfire before razing his world to the ground.

Part of the @sterekreversechallenges Sterek Reverse Bang 2023. Based on @wolfspurr 's beautiful, summery mood board prompt.

*The events in the news clipping take place right before the epilogue in the story.

[dreamrk99]

In another life : mark lee 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ preview

“In another life me and you would be married “

Cw : crying and unprotected sex

This is genuinely are draft to a story i wrote months ago about mark I decide to post it idk if I’ll ever drop the full version

My lips gently grazed his as I looked down at him from his lap. The view was breathtaking as he looked up at me. His lips spit-slicked, and his eyes droopy and filled with love. My bare torso against his before I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders, my hips being held in place by his ring-clad hands. I let out a soft gasp as I felt his hands guiding my hips so beautifully. Our skin met every time I took a deep breath. "I love you." I sang. Every time my heat tightened around him, feeling his hands make their way to my face. Tears ran down my cheeks.

He kissed the tears away before whispering confessions of love in my ear. He let out the most sensual sound as he emptied himself between my thighs.

"Do you love me ?" I asked, and my faded lipstick smeared on his glossy lips. "I breathe for you," he spoke before pressing kisses to my chest longly, staining it with the faded rouge."Please." I gasped as I ran my fingers through his overgrown black hair. He could only hum as I pulled his head up from my nipples and kissed him lovingly. I kissed him like I was going to die tomorrow. There was nothing I wanted more than to stay in his arms forever, but I knew I couldn't

[seeminglydark]

You disappeared at the same speed

As the idealistic things I believed

The optimist died inside of me

-no sunlight by death cab for cutie

[her-stars]

pottery nights, poetry slams, road trip, and sunflower garden dates >>>>>>>

[humanpurposes]

August

Part 1: Possibilities and Peace Offerings

Your family has been invited to spend August at Dragonstone, where things get a little tense after an unfortunate first encounter with Aemond Targaryen, one he's determined to put right.

Aemond Targaryen x Reader // Modern AU

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist // Read on AO3

Warnings: 18+, nothing too bad here, eventual smut, slight enemies to lovers, mutual pining

Words: 7k

A/n: Summer romance is here!! hope you likeeee. This is going to be three parts in total.

The impending summer exists beyond time, beyond the rest of the world. Exams are over and you’ve already received a mark for your dissertation. The dorm room you called home for three years is packed up and returned to its prison-like appearance, just as it was when you were an eager and excitable fresher. Suddenly the world is an endless sea of possibilities and you’re standing on the water’s edge with nothing to lose.

You spend a few weeks with your friends, drinking in pub gardens and driving down to the rammed beaches along the coast near King’s Landing, but this summer of possibility takes an unexpected turn when your father receives an invitation to spend the month of August at Dragonstone, as a guest of Viserys Targaryen. Viserys and your father have been business partners for just under a decade, but to be welcomed into his inner circle, to the ancestral home of the Targaryen family, is another honour altogether. 

Your parents are beside themselves with excitement. You’re a little more sceptical but you won’t let them know it. So once your uni friends have gone back to their hometowns, you pack an array of swimsuits and summer dresses into a suitcase, and bundle into the backseat of your father’s car. 

The aircon is on full blast. You sip on the last of your water as an 80s playlist blares through your headphones to block out the conversation of investments, clients, lawsuits and legal fees from the front seats.

Dragonstone is three things; an island, a town, and a castle. You drive out of the city, red and grey buildings blurring into greenery and vast spaces of blue, the sky and the sea. A ferry takes you from the mainland to the island’s port. The song you were listening to fades away as you slip your headphones off your ears. The town is utterly charming, from the rows of fishing boats in the harbour to the cobbled streets and obscure little buildings, bookshops, bakeries and butchers. The sun shines brightly, heat pulses through the window even with the blast of cool air.

A few more miles and you reach a gatehouse, ancient stone walls smothered with ivy, guarded by two stone creatures with their jaws wide open— dragons with spikes and sharp teeth. The driveway is lined with thick trees and foliage. Suddenly you turn a corner and there it is, towers and turrets reaching up into the summer sky, hundreds of windows, more carvings of dragons looming proudly over where Blackwater Bay becomes the Narrow Sea. 

The man who greets you by the doors is not a Targaryen. He has dark hair, dark eyes, a crisp white shirt and a radio on his belt. Your father seems to know him already. He greets him as “Cole,” and introduces him to you and your mother.

Cole offers his hand to you. “Criston,” he insists, “I’m the head of Mr Targaryen’s security.”

Two identical butlers take your bags from the car while Criston shows you into the entrance hall. He comments on the antiques and the 14th century timbers, leading you through to the room he calls “the waiting chamber”. It has high ceilings, wood panelled walls, an enormous fireplace and aged but comfortable looking leather sofas at the edges of the room. You note the portraits on the walls, the more recent photographs on the mantle, but before you can get a proper look, someone announces their own arrival into the room.

Viserys Targaryen has his arms open, dressed far more casually than you’ve seen him at various galas and events, he even has a pair of aviators keeping his silver hair out of his face. He greets your father with a smile and a firm handshake, his eyes sharp but somewhat hollow. 

“Sorry for keeping you waiting,” he says, moving onto your mother and then to you. “We’re having drinks on the patio, enjoying the sun. Why don’t you join us?” He chuckles and you don’t really understand why. You’re not sure how any of this works.

Viserys leads you through the house, stopping by the great hall and the library, pointing out details like Criston did. His home is devoted to family and every furnishing carries some sentimental value. The curtains and the sofas in the library are Arryn blue for his first wife, the shelves are laden with books that belonged to his grandfather. There are items here which have belonged to the Targaryens for generations and their house’s sigil is carved into the walls and wooden beams. 

At last you come to a hall with tall windows, glass chandeliers and marble floors. Viserys calls this “the west gallery”, a more modern addition to the castle, built in the 17th century. He opens a double glass door and you can already see the sprawling green gardens, the unnatural blue of a swimming pool somewhere in the distance. Before all that is the raised patio, an array of chairs and the people sitting in them.

You step into the heat of the garden, into cigarette smoke and the sounds of laughter, loud and seemingly rehearsed. Your father knows most of these people, other associates of Targ Corp, Corlys Velaryon and his wife Rhaenys Tagraryen, Jason Lannister and his wife Joanna, Lyonel Strong and his son Larys. Even Otto Hightower is lounging back in his chair, sunglasses over his eyes, a pale pink cocktail in a crystal glass. 

Your parents smile graciously, your mother clutching her handbag over her shoulder, your father wiping the sweat from his brow, trying to air out the damp patches in his shirt. They’ll want to make a good impression. Each person staying at Dragonstone this summer is another opportunity for your father.

You glance down at your denim shorts and your sandals— an outfit for comfort, not for networking.

Viserys directs the three of you to a cushioned wooden bench and you squeeze in beside your mother. Another butler appears and offers you all a drink. Your parents both ask for a gin and tonic. You’re thinking that you’d like to dunk yourself in the pool, so you ask for a large glass of water. 

“With ice and lemon, miss?”

“Yeah, please, if you have it?”

Your mother nudges you with her elbow and whispers in your ear. “This is Dragonstone, if you want it they probably have it.”

“If I asked for the Prince of Pentos’ phone number, do you think they’d bring it out on a silver tray?” You return with a grin.

The minutes drag by. Lyonel Strong asks your father about his law practice. Corlys Velaryon and Jason Lannister enter a heated discussion about yachts. Otto Hightower mentions the name “Daemon” and the other voices go quiet. You take large gulps of your water, occasionally sharing silent looks with your mother.

The heat is sweltering. You feel your head pulsing, your skin becoming damp and you worry you may end up as a puddle on the patio if you don’t find a reason to escape soon.

The glass doors open and two women enter the garden, one with auburn hair, dressed in a floral dress and high heels. The other, younger, blonde hair cut into a fashionably short fringe, barefoot, dressed in denim shorts and baggy t-shirt, goes straight to Otto. She doesn’t look at anyone else. She stands behind Otto and leans down to wrap her arms around his neck. This must be Alicent Hightower and her daughter.

Alicent makes her rounds elegantly. She’s familiar with all the people present, except for the three of you, the outsiders, piled onto a single piece of garden furniture. Her eyes are wide and brown, her lips full and fallen slightly even when she smiles. She asks about the journey from King’s Landing, if you’ve had a chance to explore the town.

She asks you a lot of questions too, what you do, where you studied, what your plans are for the Autumn. And once she’s found out what she wants from you, she starts telling you everything about her children, unprompted.

“Helaena’s starting a PhD in a few weeks, staying in King’s Landing– King’s college, of course, not KLU, seven heavens. We didn’t want her to be too far away from home,” she says, looking back at her daughter and her father. “Etymology. Well, she’s always had a thing for insects, I could never understand it, but it’s easier to let her follow her interests, she’s that sort of girl.

“Now Aegon is like that too, he likes a lot of things, would be nice if he could be interested in something that makes him money. Oh well, he’s into the arts, fancies himself a photographer, directed a few plays at university– Oldtown. He wrote a screenplay, you must remind me to show you, it’s really quite clever. It’s about injustice or something like that.

“Daeron is at Oldtown too, at Citadel Boys. He’s the only child I sent to board, I just felt he might be happy with a bit of space from all of us. He wants to go to Oldtown like his brothers. His father wants him to do economics, but he’s very good at history.

“Aemond did history, but then he trained in accountancy. He’s worked all over, Oldtown, Storm’s End, Harrenhal, but he’s looking to stay in King’s Landing now–”

“Mum, you’ll bore her to tears,” Helaena says and it’s only now you notice that she’s moved to stand in front of you. 

Alicent frowns.

You stifle a smile and raise your brows hopefully.

“Do you know where you’re sleeping yet?” Helaena asks, looking at her mother.

“I’ve put her in the moat room,” Alicent says. She turns back to you, “I’m sorry, darling, you’re probably tired, aren’t you? Helaena can show you your room.”

You kiss your mother's cheek and agree to reconvene for dinner in the evening.

“Sorry about mum, she just jumps at the chance to talk about her kids,” Helaena says as you walk back through the west gallery.

“It’s sort of cute,” you say, staring up at the gold detailing on the ceiling. “Very informative.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” she says with a wicked smile.

When Helaena laughs she scrunches up her eyes and her nose. She sways her arms by her sides as she walks and trails her fingertips on the walls. Unlike Criston or Viserys, she doesn’t have little anecdotes about any of the vases or paintings on display. She’s a juxtaposition of her family’s ancestral home, airy and lighthearted, earthy and inexplicably real.

“Your parents are probably in the west wing,” she explains as you come to a winding stairwell. “That’s where everyone else will be too. The moat room is on the other side of the house.”

You nod along, stealing glances out the windows, at the gardens, and from higher up, you can see the sea.

“Don’t be too disheartened though,” Helaena says, “that means you’re with us.”

She shows you your room first. It sits at the very corner of the castle with windows to the north and the east. The moat in question isn’t a moat, it’s more of a well kept ditch. By the rest of the house you were half expecting the room to be medieval, but to your surprise it’s bright, carpeted, sans priceless antiques and heirlooms. A queen-sized bed waits for you piled with pillows. 

“I’m down the hall, and the boys are in the next corridor,” Helaena explains. “If you smell something suspicious, it’s Aegon.”

She helps you unpack your suitcase, admiring your swimsuits and looking through the small collection of books you’ve brought to pass the time.

She shows you her room which is further down the corridor. It’s much larger than yours, far more personal. She has worn patterned rugs over the wooden floors, dark blue wallpaper and accents of gold everywhere, the mirror over her vanity, the handles on the drawers and the wardrobe. You’re most intrigued by the framed taxidermies on the walls, butterflies with the most beautiful wings you’ve ever seen, moths, beetles, even a scorpion.

You’re a little relieved when you see a cat curled up on her bed, with a thick white coat, brown ears. 

“Dreamfyre,” Helaena says, scooping the cat up in her arms. “She’s named after the Valryian god of prophecy and wisdom.”

You hold your hand out for Dreamfyre to sniff. She considers you for a moment, and runs her head against your fingers. “So can she tell me my future?” you ask.

Helaena stares at you. “Don’t be ridiculous, she’s a cat. Why, hoping for something in particular?”

“I like to see where life takes me,” you say.

After exchanging phone numbers and scrolling through each other’s Spotify playlists, Helaena tells you that she thinks the two of you are going to be friends.

Dinner is surprisingly more pleasant, where you all eat around a table on the patio. Being outside is far more bearable once the sun starts to set and a breeze sweeps in from the sea. You’re served white fish, potato salad coated in herbs which Alicent says she grows herself, summer vegetables, grilled courgettes, red and yellow peppers, sweet and tangy tomatoes, washed down with white wine.

You sit beside Helaena, opposite two of her brothers, Aegon and Daeron. Daeron is far taller than his older brother but his face is clearly younger. His pale blond hair is slightly overgrown, his nose a little pink and his skin freckled from being in the sun. “Aemond managed to beat me at tennis today,” he says.

Aegon rolls his eyes, far more concerned with scratching the ears of a golden labrador perched on the floor beside him.

You look to Helaena for an explanation.

“Daeron’s looking to go pro. Aemond can’t stand that he’s not the best at something.”

There’s an empty space at the head of the table, between Aegon and Helaena. You’ve yet to see any other evidence that the elusive middle brother exists.

“There’s a tennis court here?” You ask.

“Towards the water garden, you should be able to see it from the moat room.” Helaena says. “You should have a look.”

Dessert is pistachio ice-cream, then everyone starts to disperse. Aegon grabs a bottle of wine and he and Daeron traipse over to a firepit at the edge of the patio, followed by the labrador. Your parents follow Viserys and the others into the house. Corlys and Rhaenys linger at the table, staring up at the sky and taking long drags from their cigarettes.

You trail Helaena to a neatly kept kitchen. Some of the staff pass through, into a far larger back room with metal surfaces, where the real cooking is done. Criston sits at the kitchen island on a stool, eating a pasta salad from a glass bowl. Helaena pats his head as she passes him. He doesn’t seem surprised by it, perhaps it’s a common occurrence.

“Feel free to grab anything you want, by the way. There’s all sorts of snacks and stuff, and if you want more of something give Criston a shout,” Helaena says, picking out bags of chocolate buttons and sour sweets from a cupboard.

“That’s kind,” you say, twisting your fingers over each other in front of you. “I’m quite tired, I think I might just have a shower and go to bed.”

“Darling, it’s summer, you can do whatever you want,” Helaena says. “See you at breakfast, yeah?” She pulls you into a quick hug and disappears out into the garden.

Not wanting to linger when Criston’s phone starts to ring, you decide to brave it and find your way back to your bedroom. Aegon and Daeron seem like fun, maybe too much fun for tonight, you just need to sleep off the fatigue from the sun.

This place is far too big for you to feel settled just yet. It amazes you how everyone can navigate the castle so easily, it’s like a maze. Eventually you find your way back to the entrance hall. You think you might know the way to the east wing from here, but when you see the sky beyond the windows, lilac and orange, dotted with grey clouds and the first few stars of the evening, you want to make the most of the dying light. Maybe you could head towards the water garden and find the tennis court.

Your sandals crunch against the gravel which stretches out into paths leading in three directions. The central one leads to the driveway and the gatehouse. To the left is the gardens past the edge of the moat, and to the right is an outlook and a downhill path which disappears from sight, which you assume leads down to the sea. You can hear the waves in the distance.

The sunlight is fading fast. You cross your arms over yourself, shivering and regretting the lack of a cardigan. You tell yourself you might warm up with a bit of a walk.

You take a few paces down the path towards the gardens– a dog’s bark has your heart leaping out of your chest. It’s deep and loud, coming from behind you. Your head darts around. An enormous dog has emerged from the downhill path and is bounding towards you, covering ground quickly.

You keep your feet planted on the ground, out of fear

The dog, a great dane, stops before you— it truly is huge, its head would come up to your torso if you were close enough, and you don’t really want to find out– barking viciously. Its teeth flash, flecks of saliva dripping from its mouth.

“Back off! Come, Vhagar!”

You look back along the path. A man in a black t-shirt and black shorts is walking quickly towards you and the dog. He grabs it by its collar and yanks it back, fastening it on a leash.

His eyes dart up— eye, you realise. The right side is a bright blue, the left is clouded, framed by a scar slicing down from his brow to his cheek.

“Who are you?” He asks like an accusation.

You hesitate, your heart still racing in panic.

You say your first name, then your family name, at that the man tuts and raises himself to full height, keeping the great dane on a short leash. “Right. What are you doing out here?”

“Just… looking around.”

“Just looking around someone else’s house?”

Gods now you’re really starting to panic. He’s glaring at you as if it’s your fault his dog just made a break for you.

He huffs irritably through his nose. “Look, Vhagar’s not always friendly and especially not around strangers. Be careful, yeah?” 

Vhagar now seems content enough sitting by her owner’s side, wagging her tail and panting with her tongue out. Her grey coat is covered in sand, especially her paws and her nose.

“If your dog’s not always friendly why wasn’t she on a leash?” 

His face hardens. Frowning suits his sharp features and the intensity of his eye. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this is my fucking house.”

That explains the blond hair, and you suppose now he has the same lanky look as Daeron and the same gauntness in his face as Aegon.

“Right, your dog could have just mauled me but thanks for the friendly reminder.” You turn towards the house and mutter loud enough for him to overhear, “prick.”

You can’t shake the frustration. Nothing takes the edge off, not the hot stream of water from the shower, the routine of your skincare or the feeling of sinking into an impossibly soft mattress. Dragonstone is perfect… and all you want to do is scream, just a little.

Breakfast is served in the morning room, next to the kitchen, according to the text you got from Helaena. You put a swimsuit on, a patterned one piece and pull on some shorts. Before you head downstairs you grab a pair of sunglasses, a bottle of suncream and a book, determined that your morning will be peaceful and idyllic.

People flitter into the morning room as they please. Helaena is still in her pyjamas, tucking into a bowl of yoghurt and fruit. Daeron comes in and starts eating toast off Alicent’s plate, having already run a casual 5k about the grounds.

The man from last night is hovering by a side table, placing sausages and bacon onto a small plate. He glances sideways at you as you enter. 

You keep your teeth pressed together as you reach for a plate and go for the platter of pastries, reaching for an almond croissant.

His elbow must be a few inches from yours. “Morning,” he mutters.

You were half expecting him to act like you don’t exist. “Morning,” you mumble back.

“Have you two already met?” Helaena asks loudly from the table.

“Briefly,” he says.

“And you didn’t actually tell me your name,” you say, adding some strawberries to your plate for good measure.

“The boy has no manners,” Daeron says in a mocking voice, earning him an exasperated chide from his mother. Helaena giggles to herself.

He faces you fully. “Aemond,” he says.

“Good for you,” you say, and go to take a seat beside Helaena.

“Tea or coffee?” she asks you, reaching towards the two silver pots in the middle of the table.

“Coffee, please.”

Helaena makes a shocked expression. “Blasphemy. I’m a tea girl.” 

As Helaena pours some coffee into a china cup, Aemond takes the free seat opposite you. Your heart races a little, infuriated at the sight of him, somewhat guilty that your time at Dragonstone has already soured and his entire family is there to see it.

You add just a dash of milk to your coffee. In the corner of your eye you see him watching you, fork hovering in front of his face. You muster the confidence to look up and he averts his eye.

After you’ve finished your breakfast you head out to the patio, down the stone steps and to the pool, settling on one of the lounge chairs. Helaena has gone back up to her room to change and bring you both down a towel.

You lather suncream on your limbs, face and neck, and open your book. This is a nice kind of heat, one that you’re more prepared for. You can almost feel it permeating your skin, breathing new life into your blood. 

You get a few moments of bliss until a silhouette appears beside you.

You raise your eyes from the page, over the edges of your sunglasses, staring ahead at the surface of the pool. You can smell a man’s aftershave, and you can tell he’s too tall to be Aegon.

Ice clinks against glass. He leans down to place something on the small table beside you. “Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot.”

You don’t want to turn your head, that might be misinterpreted as you actually caring.

But then Aemond’s voice takes on a lighter tone and he says, “Are you reading Crime and Punishment?” 

You scrunch your brows in bewilderment as you look up at him.

His eye moves between your face and the book in your lap

“Yeah,” you say, shifting your legs and drawing your knees closer to your torso, “I’m finding it a bit boring to be honest.”

His lips are parted ever so slightly and you can see the tips of his teeth. “It’s one of my favourite books.”

“I think that might explain a lot,” you say.

The corner of his mouth flickers like he might smile. He holds it back. 

“What’s this?” You ask, looking down at the glass of iced coffee he’s placed on the table. 

“A peace offering,” Aemond says. “I really am sorry about yesterday evening. I just… panicked. Vhagar isn’t always good around people she doesn’t trust. She bit my nephew once actually.”

“Oh, not good.”

“It was years ago, and to be fair to her—” he doesn’t finish that sentence. He presses his lips together. “I just thought I should apologise to you.”

Even when apologising he sounds smug.

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” you say.

He hums, it’s cryptic and it throws you off a little. He looks at you like he has a secret, like he’s managed to spot something that you haven’t. 

You feel aware of yourself and now you can’t breathe without doing it consciously. You feel beads of sweat forming at the back of your neck, the warmth of your own skin with your thighs pressed together, the pulse in your chest, the restless feeling in your stomach. You’re worried you might do something stupid, but how could you? You’re only sitting in a swimsuit and sunglasses, while Aemond is doing nothing to hide the fact that he’s looking at you– studying you with a hint of excitement in his eye.

And after about a minute of this he says, “enjoy your morning,” turning and strolling towards the patio. 

You clench your jaw, determined that you won’t look back at him, but you listen to his footsteps as they move away. 

With each line you read, you can only think of Aemond pouring over every word and making this book his bible. You imagine his hands holding the cover, his fingertip dragging over the page, his lips parted in concentration. It feels intrusive, it feels too involved. You couldn’t possibly put this book down now.

Aemond is an understated presence amongst his own family. He often lurks in the library or in a corner of the sitting room with a book. He wanders the gardens with his headphones on. He takes Vhagar down to the beach every evening and some nights you steal glances of them from a window at the front of the house. He gets these headaches, something to do with the scar over his eye, and when he does he likes to retreat to his room. When he is around for dinner he sits at the head of the table, opposite his father but miles away from him. He’s not a big talker but when he does have something to add to the conversation he commandeers it. Everyone stops to listen when he speaks.

You like watching him, the way he fiddles with anything within his reach, how he strokes his fingertips over his hands, the edge of his jaw. You look for his microexpressions, the twitches of his brow and the quirk of his lips when he finds something amusing, and how at the mentions of sensitive subjects or certain names, his eye widens. 

He smirks when he sees you looking, you don’t mind that he knows that you are.

You don’t want to seek him out, but you don’t try to avoid him either. He’s always somewhere in your periphery, his hand brushing against yours at the dinner table, the smell of his Marlboros wafting from the patio when you’re sitting by the pool which makes you wonder if he’s watching you. In the evenings after dinner, you and the Targaryen siblings hang around the firepit late into the night. Helaena and Daeron talk about constellations and roast marshmallows, Aegon plucks on a guitar, and you and Aemond fall into a game of pretending like you’re not looking at each other. 

Some nights you sit across from him, your view distorted by the heat and the flames. Other nights he dares to sit beside you, close enough that his leg will rest against yours. He keeps his voice soft until you’re leaning in closer to catch every word he says, this insufferable man who bings you a coffee every morning and asks you about the books you read.

One night Aemond is sat beside you. Helaena sings along to Aegon’s guitar, Daeron drums his fingers against his legs, gazing in wonder at his siblings because moments like this are a rarity for him.

“Do you forgive me yet?” Aemond asks, his arm draped along the back of the bench you sit on. Maybe he can read your mind because you’ve been silently begging for him to come closer… closer…

Your senses are hazy, the smoke of the fire, the scent of cigarettes and aftershave lingering on Aemond’s shirt, the glasses of wine you had with dinner, the clear, cold night air piercing the backs of your arms. He notices you shivering and slips his arm around your shoulders, slowly, so you have a chance to tell him to stop. His heat is white hot. Your chest feels hollow and weightless.

Everything about him is hypnotising, the curve of his mouth, his self-assuredness, the look in his eye that’s gentle and intense all at once.

Your body feels heavy; you should probably go to bed soon. “Do you care if I forgive you?”

He frowns, less disappointed, more intrigued and lifts his hand to brush your hair from your neck, fingertips grazing over your skin. Your body stiffens in his wake, like electricity coursing through your shoulders, down your spine.

“I’d hate to have it hanging over my head,” he mutters.

You turn your head and now your faces are inches apart. His nose twitches as he breathes, you notice.

His palm comes to rest on your bare thigh, below the hem of your shorts. In the corner of your eye you see heads of silver hair glancing across the firepit. Aegon chuckles. You’re content to let the distractions fade away. “Keep bringing me coffees and I’ll consider it.”

The next day you’re laying on your bed, enjoying the cool of the early evening against your damp skin and hair after a shower. How you can be so exhausted after a day of reading by the pool makes you despair a little. It’s the heat, it messes with your brain.

The music through your headphones is interrupted by a notification.

Helaena Targaryen: Aemond said he’s off to walk the dogs if you want to join him.

You frown at the screen. Did he want Helaena to ask you? You specifically?

Surprisingly, you were getting on rather well with Aemond today, not enough for him to text you himself, or ask for your number for that matter. At the very least, things have been less hostile since your first encounter. You saw him at breakfast and he asked you how you were getting on with Crime and Punishment, if you had finally realised that it’s the best piece of literature put to the world (his words). You said you were not convinced, only because it was fun to argue about it with him. While you were sitting by the pool he came down in a pair of black trunks and no shirt, swam twenty laps in twenty minutes, then dried off in the lounge chair next to yours. Later, while Helaena was sitting with you, he appeared from the kitchen with two bowls of strawberries with the stems cut off. And then at lunch he sat between Aegon and Daeron, and hardly looked at you.

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard, painfully conscious that Helaena will be able to see that you’re typing.

Helaena Targaryen: I think it’s part of him ‘making amends’ with you.

Helaena Targaryen: He probably still feels bad about it.

Helaena Targaryen: Loser.

You smile to yourself and type out your reply: Yeah, why not. Where does he want me?

While Helaena starts to type you quickly pull on some shorts and a clean t-shirt. Your phone dings while you’re in front of the mirror, dabbing concealer under your eyes.

Helaena Targaryen: Front door. Five mins. Have fun :) 

It will probably take you five minutes to find your way down to the entrance hall anyway. You finish your face off with some blush on the apples of your cheeks and a thin amount of mascara on your lashes. There’s not much you can do about your wet hair, but other than that you’re mostly satisfied with yourself, so you pull on a pair of trainers, slip your phone into your back pocket and hurry through the corridors of Dragonstone.

He’s waiting for you in the entrance hall by the door, Vhagar, the great dane on one leash, Sunfyre, the golden labrador on another. He gives you a half smile as you approach them.

“Who am I walking?” you say.

“My girl stays with me,” he says, offering you Sunfyre’s leash, which you take, ruffling his ears.

“Vhagar is your girl then, is she?” you ask as Aemond leads you out the door and down the front steps, past the spot where she scared you half to death. The dogs are eager to storm ahead but Aemond keeps Vhagar on a tight lead, so you do the same.

“I suppose. We’ve had great danes forever, my father’s very fond of them. We got Vhagar when I was sixteen and well, we just like each other a lot I guess.” 

“What about Sunfyre?”

“He’s Aegon’s really, but mostly he stays at the Keep with mum and dad. Aegon doesn’t really stay in the same place long enough.”

“Sounds exciting.”

“Yeah well, he does what he wants. This way,” Aemond says, nodding towards the downhill path to the beach. You’ve been down here with Helaena already, a winding gravel path lined with bushes and brambles down the cliff face. Vhagar plods along leisurely, Sunfyre can’t get down fast enough. When you stumble, Aemond steadies you, a large hand wrapped around your forearm. “He can run off now anyway,” he mutters, undoing the leash, and Sunfyre darts along the path in a golden flash.

Low in the sky, you see the sun dancing along the surface of the sea, waves rolling orange and blue into white foam as they meet the shore.

“What about you?”

Aemond looks at you with a brief look of bewilderment.

“Are you not doing what you want?”

He tries to conceal a frown, pouting his lips slightly. “Maybe I did for a bit, wound up working for Targ Corp, so I don’t see what difference any of it made.”

Once you reach the sand and Sunfyre is sniffing at some rocks along the base of the cliff, Aemond looks at you. “Are you alright if I take her off the leash?”

Vhagar looks pleadingly up at her owner, her tail thrumming against the ground.

“Yeah, of course,” you say.

“I just didn't know if you’d be comfortable after…”

“Oh,” you say, “thanks for considering it, but yes, it’s more than fine.”

Aemond grins as he undoes the clasp connecting the lead to Vhagar’s collar.

“What?” you ask.

“Does that mean you forgive me now?”

You fold your arms, your cheeks straining as you try to withhold the extent of your smile. “You do make a good coffee, I’ll give you that.”

Sunfyre and Vhagar entertain themselves, chasing each other, running to the edge of the water where the waves rush over the sand and retreat again. You and Aemond walk along the shore where the sand is damp and stable. Aemond says the tide will be coming in within the hour.

“So why work for Targ Corp if you don’t want to?” you ask him. 

Aemond contemplates this for a moment, making a low humming noise in his throat. “If I really didn’t want to, I wouldn't.”

“But if Aegon gets to do what he wants, why don’t you?”

He looks down at his shoes, white sneakers, and digs his hands into the pocket of his joggers. “I remember thinking when I finished my bachelor’s, there were lots of things I was good at.”

You make a teasing face.

“No, I just mean there’s lots of things I could have done. I thought about being a curator, or something, you know? I did my dissertation on that actually, how museums and exhibitions can distort the past as well as preserve it–” he interrupts himself with a short tut. “Sorry, I don’t need to bore you.”

Your eyes trail along the curve of his jaw and his chin in the fading light. The wind is gentle, whispering over the bare skin of your cheeks, your arms, your legs. The smell of sea salt lingers in your nose and on your tongue. “I’m not bored,” you say.

With a shy sort of smile he tells you more, how he used to spend hours in the museums in Oldtown, looking at exhibits on Dorne, Essos and Valyria, the papers he read, the cultural memory and the dissonance. “History and heritage, when you think about them, are inherently vague concepts,” he says, “because they’re all based on claims and narratives that are difficult to determine and if they are clear cut, they’re biased. So how do we find the truth? How do we know that what we’re claiming is the right story is actually accurate?” You find yourself watching the parts of him you usually do. He speaks with his hands, indicating and gesturing and moving them randomly when he’s trying to think of a word or explain himself. Occasionally he runs his fingers through his hair or rubs his chin. And his single eye is wide, looking up as he pieces together a thought, looking back to you so he knows you’re still listening. 

“But after all that, you went and trained to be an accountant?” you ask.

“You should have seen the look on my father’s face when I told him I wanted to do a masters in museum studies. So yeah, accounting it was.”

It makes you sad, but you don’t want to tell him that. The entire time you’ve been here you’ve never seen Aemond so animated, talking about something he seems to love.

“What about you? What are your big life plans?” he says.

“Anything but accounting.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, I bet.”

“I’ll do a masters eventually, but I want to work for a little bit. I’ll start applying for jobs when I’m home.”

“In King’s Landing?”

“Yeah.” You look back up at the dark stone of the cliff, the layers and straight lines, the tops of the castle’s turrets just visible from the shore. “Yeah, yeah I think there’s so much pressure to find something to do. I mean, I was trying to focus on my dissertation and my exams, and I kept having these weird moments where I’d think, what’s the point? I don’t have a job ready to go. I don’t have a place on a masters course. I don’t have any plans to travel or volunteer at an orphanage in Meereen. It was like there was a timer going off in my brain and if I didn’t make something of my life before my exams were over, well it was all going to be a waste.” Now you’re the one moving your hands mindlessly, and you don’t know why but saying it all out loud makes you nervous. “Sometimes I feel like I’m running out of time.”

You look back at Aemond and realise you’ve stopped walking. Somewhere along the beach the dogs bark and splash in the shallowest part of the water. Aemond is watching you. He still has his hands in his pockets, his lips curled into a vague smile. “You have plenty of time, don’t worry,” he says. 

It suddenly strikes you what Alicent had mentioned, about him moving back to King’s Landing.

Without stepping away from him you take a mental note of him, your eyes glancing up and down. You want to remember his silhouette, his posture and how he stands, the way he angles his chin, the way he likes to hold his hands behind his back, the joggers and the shape of his torso though his t-shirt. You think you could recognise him at a brief glance, a single body in a crowded city. You think you’d find him.

Aemond meets your eye and raises his brow. 

You smile slightly to fein innocent interest. “We’ll be neighbours, we might see each other wandering around the city.”

But you realise you’ve made a mistake. His amusement starts to fade from his face, his shoulders stiffening. He turns and puts his middle finger and thumb in his mouth to whistle the dogs. They both freeze and bound back towards you. “Tide will be coming in soon,” he says to you.

He has Vhagar and Sunfyre on their leads again. By the time you come back to the path on the cliff the sky is a dull shade of dark blue. The castle looms in darkness and the light comes from within, golden through all of its windows.

“I’m sorry if I was a bit of a downer,” you say.

“You’re fine,” Aemond says. Your steps sound in perfect time along the gravel, up to the front steps. Vhagar and Sunfyre huff and pant, pulling on their leads and eager for a rest.

You reach the door and Aemond opens it. Down the hall one of the butlers is waiting to take the dogs.

“It’s just, I thought we were getting on.”

“We are,” Aemond mutters. “Do you think we are?”

It’s hard to tell with Aemond. He’s polite when he needs to be, easily irritated around his siblings. He’s so calm and composed, but you can see it in his eye when he’s thinking– you just don’t know what. But then there are moments like this, when you think you’ve scratched the surface, when his gaze lingers on you and his eye is soft but intent. When he brings you a coffee in the morning, when he tells you about his favourite book and the things he wishes he’d done with his life.

You’re standing in the entrance hall. Dragonstone is alive, filled with people and distant sounds. Beyond the ancient walls the wind picks up and the tide is coming in. If you took one step closer to Aemond, your navel would be pressed against his.

“I want us to get on,” you say.

“Me too.”

“And I thought we were getting somewhere.”

“Maybe we are,” he says. “I liked this, you’re a good listener.”

“I don’t get that a lot.”

“Do you not?”

“Well I suppose it helps if the person speaking has something interesting to say.”

“Oh,” he says with a little nod, “I thought you were going to say you just liked me that much.”

“That helps too.”

No taglist, follow @ficsbygee and turn on post notifs for updates <3

[driversatellite]

cruel summer | r.c | part three

synopsis: after she had been left heartbroken by jj maybank, y/n had felt herself feeling withdrawn from everything around her, it seemed that nothing could make her feel better, except for maybe her best friend sarah’s older brother, rafe cameron. the two had a rivalry that began before either of them could remember but after her heart was broken y/n found herself enjoying rafe’s presence more and more, maybe he wasn’t who she thought he was.

rafe cameron x desi!reader  

part three: you know that I caught it

word count: 3.0k

a/n: hiii guys!!! thank you so so so much for all the love on this series, i appreciate it so much, like fr it means the world to me that you guys take time to read my silly little stories <3!!!! this story will be somewhat of a slow burn (not too slow burn i promise), but i promise it’ll be worth it! anyways i hope you enjoy this part!!!! (likes, comments, and reblogs are very much appreciate <3!!!)

series masterlist | main masterlist | last part | next part 

The sun was shining and Y/N couldn’t help but feel happy when she spotted a grinning Wheezie hanging out of the passenger side of Rafe’s truck waving wildly at her. She laughed to herself and tightened her grip on her beach bag as she made her way to the car. She had been looking forward to her and Wheezie’s beach day and she didn’t mind that Rafe would be joining them, ever since she had spilled her guts to him, he hadn’t been up to his usual antics. 

She slipped into the back seat and set her bag down and Wheezie turned around in her seat to converse more easily, “I’m so excited, I always ask Sarah to come read with me, but she doesn’t like reading.” 

Y/N laughed and nodded, her best friend didn’t particularly enjoy reading which is why she hadn’t been able to do a lot of reading in the past couple years. She was always with the pogues and they were always up to something, they didn’t have much down time, “I’m excited to, I brought two books.” 

Wheezie grinned and smiled and rambled about the books she had brought and Y/N just smiled and nodded along to the young girl, seeing Wheezie always made her happy. She had glanced over to Rafe a few times while Wheezie was distracted, but he hadn’t said anything since she got in the car, he seemed to be focused on driving. 

They ended up at the club and headed through the club to get to the private section of the beach that the club owned. It was nice and quiet and there were no rowdy tourons there, the perfect setting for a peaceful beach reading day. Y/N and Wheezie set up their reading spots, since they were at the club they grabbed a beach cabana that had three lounge cushioned lounge chairs and set down their towels and Y/N made sure to put sunscreen on herself, Wheezie, and Rafe, who was being uncharacteristically quiet. She didn’t question Rafe’s silence too much, she just thought maybe it was too early for him and left it at that, as the girls made themselves comfortable Rafe grabbed his surfboard and headed straight for the waves. 

It had been a few hours and Y/N had finished the first book she had brought, she was already half way through it when she started reading that day, but she still felt accomplished as she read the last page. She set the book down and stretched a bit before asking Wheezie if she wanted anything from the beach bar, Wheezie said she just wanted some fries and some lemonade and Y/N nodded before slipping on her sundress and heading to the beach bar. 

“Hi, can I get two ice waters, a lemonade, the arancini balls, and some fries?” She asked the attendant working the bar. The attendant nodded and let her know that it’d be a few minutes. She nodded and looked around the club, trying to spot any familiar faces, but didn’t seem to find anyone. It was still early, so maybe that was why, she then felt her phone buzz and glanced down to see Sarah texting her. She felt bad, she hadn’t told Sarah that she’d be hanging out with her siblings that day. She knew that Sarah was hanging out with pogues and if she knew that Y/N was spending the day reading with the other two Cameron siblings she’d drag her along with her and hanging around JJ and Rina was the last thing Y/N wanted to do. Everything was still too fresh for her. 

She sucked in a breath and opened Sarah’s message, as predicted it was asking her to reconsider and come with her to hang out with the pogues, she sighed and then typed out her response. 

y/n: sorry sar, i’m just super tired today, i’m spending the day at the club’s spa to rejuvenate

sarah: :( ok, rest up and feel better so you can come next time, everyone misses you

y/n: i miss them too, ttyl <3

As soon as she finished texting Sarah the attendant came back with the drinks and the fries and Y/N slipped her phone into her pocket and used both hands to carefully carry the tray of drinks and snacks back to the cabana. To her surprise Rafe was sitting on his lounge chair drying his hair as she approached and at the sound of the sand beneath her feet he looked up and sprung up and grabbed the tray from her hands and placed them down on the small table. 

“I could’ve done it.” Y/N said as she grabbed her water and settled into her lounge chair. 

Rafe shrugged and continued to dry his hair, “I know, but if you dropped it then I would have to go all the way there and get all new things and I didn’t want to take that chance.” 

She rolled her eyes and slipped her sunglasses back on and grabbed her next book, “Whatever Rafael.” 

She had decided that she was done depriving herself of romance novels, maybe they’d be able to mend her broken heart, which is why she decided to reread one of her comfort novels, as cheesy as it sounded, Pride and Prejudice, was one of her all time favorites. There was just something about the way Jane Austen wrote the novel that brought her to life, she truly loved the book. 

“You must allow me to tell you how much I ardently admire and love you.” 

Y/N whipped her head to look at Rafe who was staring at the cover of her book, “What?” Her eyebrows were furrowed in confusion as she stared at the boy quizzically. 

“It’s from the book.” Rafe said, nodding towards the book and Y/N had to hold in her gasp. She couldn’t believe that the Rafe Cameron was quoting Pride and Prejudice to her. 

“You’ve read Pride and Prejudice?” She questioned as she sat up and Rafe nodded. 

“Is it that hard to believe?” Rafe questioned. 

She shook her head, “No, I’m just surprised. I didn’t take you for a classic literature guy. Actually I didn’t even know you liked reading.” 

Rafe crossed his arms against his chest, “I never said I liked reading.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes, “Well, Pride and Prejudice was never one of the books we had to read in high school, so either you read it for fun or for something else, but definitely not for school.” 

Rafe just nodded, “Okay, maybe I did read it for fun.” 

“I knew it.” She grinned, she loved being right. 

“Can you guys be quiet, I’m trying to concentrate?” Wheezie whined from her lounge chair. Rafe just grinned but quieted down and Y/N went back to her book. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Rafe reach into his beach bag and pull out a book and settle into his lounge chair. Maybe Rafe Cameron wasn’t too bad. 

“We needed this.” Sarah sighed out as she relaxed into the salon chair and Y/N nodded. The girls--Sarah, Y/N, Kiara, and Cleo--were all at the nail salon getting mani pedis. Sarah had suggested it and all the girls agreed that they needed some time to relax and who could ever turn down a mani pedi. 

“It’s been so long since I’ve gotten my nails done. I missed the feeling.” Y/N said from her salon chair. They were currently getting their pedicure and their feet were being massaged in the hot water, this was the perfect way to end the week. 

“We missed you the other day y/ n/n, Sarah said you weren’t feeling well.” Kiara said and Y/N slightly frowned, she felt bad for ditching her friends, but she knew she couldn’t stomach another day with Rina being all over JJ. 

“Yeah, I don’t know, I guess I just needed some more rest. I had a relaxing day reading.” Y/N told them. 

Sarah eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “I thought you went to the club's spa?” 

Y/N’s eyes widened and she internally cursed, she had forgotten that she had told Sarah that, “Right, yeah, I went to the spa in the morning and then spent the rest of the day reading. Sorry all the days kinda blur together now.” 

Sarah nodded and Y/N could tell she had bought the lie and she relaxed. It was hard keeping secrets from Sarah, but she didn’t want to tell her that she had ditched her to hang out with her siblings, Sarah’d probably be pissed. It would be her secret for now, but she promised herself that she’d come clean to her soon. 

It was a couple weeks later and Y/N was currently lounging poolside at the club. Sarah had left her alone when she spotted John B, but Y/N didn’t complain that just meant she could focus on her book more. She had been reading a lot more now, she had also been spending a lot more time with Wheezie and Rafe whether it was at the ice cream parlor or at the beach and she couldn’t help but feel happier. 

She found herself smiling whenever she was with the oldest and youngest Cameron sibling. It wasn’t that she didn’t like spending time with Sarah anymore, she loved Sarah and she always would, but Sarah would always talk about the pogues and would--as much as Y/N hated it--always mention JJ. 

Apparently at their latest hangout, one that Y/N had opted out of going to, JJ hadn’t brought Rina and begged the girls to be nicer to her because according to him she hadn’t done anything wrong. JJ told them that yeah he felt really bad about how everything went down with Y/N, but their relationship just wasn’t working anymore and he just wanted to move on. The girls agreed to not ice the new couple out anymore and after Y/N’s insistence on being fine, they all agreed that things could go back to normal. And as much as Y/N had insisted that everything was fine, she couldn’t help but feel sad still, it just bothered her how fast JJ had moved on, he had begun dating Rina barely a week into them breaking up, but she didn’t bring that up to Sarah, who seemed much happier now that the friend group was back to “normal”. 

She was flipping to the next page of her book when a shadow loomed over and she looked up to see Rafe, “What are you doing here?” 

“Came to golf, I’m grabbing a drink before going out on the green.” Rafe told her and Y/N nodded and remembered what day it was. 

“Right, I forgot it’s a Sunday.” 

Rafe’s lips quirked slightly at Y/N’s comment but he ignored it, “So Wheezie wants me to take her to the mainland cause she needs a dress or some shit and Sarah and Rose are both busy and I’m probably not the right person for dress shopping, so do you want to come?” 

She nodded and smiled, “Aww, I’d love to come help Wheezie. Is she looking for midsummers dresses?” 

Rafe shrugged his shoulders, “I guess, you know how Rose is.” 

Y/N smiled, “Well, I’m happy to help, just let me know when.” 

Rafe told her that he’d text her the details before heading towards the bar and she settled back into her chair, she now had something to look forward to. She loved dress shopping but she especially loved midsummers dress shopping, there was something about summer formal dresses that just made her feel some sort of way. 

The next day Y/N was up bright and early and met the Cameron siblings in front of her house and they made their way to the mainland where all of their favorite boutiques were. 

Wheezie was excitedly talking about how she’d stayed up and spent the whole night on Pinterest scouring for the perfect dresses and Y/N smiled at her enthusiasm, “I’m so excited, I can’t wait to try on the dresses, midsummers is my favorite.” 

Y/N nodded along, “It’s my favorite too.” 

The car ride was filled with Wheezie’s rambling and Rafe and Y/N arguing over the music, but before they knew it, they had parked on mainstreet and hopped out of the car and headed into their first boutique. 

As soon as they got in the store Wheezie ran around grabbing dresses like a kid in a candy shop and Y/N beamed at how happy the young girl looked. She was casually looking for midsummers dresses, she hadn’t planned on starting now, but since she was already there, she thought it couldn’t hurt to look. She already had an idea of what she wanted in mind, she just hoped she’d be able to find it. 

“Are you looking for midsummers dresses too?” Rafe asked as he looked through the racks with her. 

“I mean since I’m here, I’ll look. It doesn’t hurt to start looking early.” She said as she flipped through the dresses, nothing she saw was drawing her eye or making her want to say “I need this dress”. 

“Midsummers is so easy for me, I just get a new suit and wear whatever Rose gets me.” Rafe said and Y/N rolled her eyes. It was always easier for the boys, but before she could make a comment, Wheezie called them over to the dressing room to watch her try on the dresses. 

The pair made their way to the dressing room where a small loveseat was positioned with a glass and gold side table that was set with a tray of small finger foods and two flutes of champagne. 

The two took a seat on the loveseat, the sofa was small, so they were practically touching and Y/N felt on edge at thought. She could feel the heat radiating off Rafe and she couldn’t help but like it, but she shook those thoughts away and tried to concentrate on anything but Rafe and how good he smelt. Thankfully for her Wheezie stepped out in her first dress, it was a navy dress that had white flowers scattered all over it, it was a cute dress.

“You look so beautiful Wheeze.” Y/N told her as Wheezie spun around and looked at herself in the mirror. 

“I like this one, it just looks super similar to the one I wore a couple years ago.” Wheezie remarked and Y/N thought back to what dress she was referring to. She was right, it was a bit too similar and Rose would not like that, so she suggested to try on the next one. Wheezie tried on the rest of the dresses at that boutique but nothing seemed to please her, so they were on to the next boutique. The same pattern happened at the next two boutiques, it seemed that nothing was good enough. 

They were at their final boutique of the day and Rafe and Y/N were seated on an even smaller loveseat, this time their thighs brushed against each other and Y/N felt her heart rate pick up, she didn’t understand why she was feeling this way. She once again shook those thoughts away and focused on Wheezie. This time she had picked out a few for her to try, she had picked out a beautiful sage green dress that she thought would be perfect, she just hoped Wheezie liked it. 

Wheezie came out in the first few dresses and nitpicked about each one of them and Y/N felt bad, she knew how stressful dress shopping for an event like midsummers was, “Why don’t you try on that sage green dress I picked out, I think it’d look great on you.” 

Wheezie nodded and went back into the dressing room and the attendant helped her put Y/N’s choice on and Wheezie felt a grin grow on her lips, Y/N had a good eye when it came to fashion. She came out of the dressing room with a wide grin on her face, “I love it! I’m obsessed. I think I want this one.” 

Y/N beamed at Wheezie’s happiness, “You look stunning in it Wheeze. You’ll be the Belle of the ball.” 

Wheezie just smiled and wrapped her arms around Y/N, “Thanks for doing this, I appreciate it so much.” 

Y/N smiled and wrapped her arms around Wheezie, “Of course, I’m happy to help.” 

They spent a few more minutes in the dressing room discussing alterations and the attendant took a few measurements and booked a fitting appointment. Wheezie slipped back into the dressing room and Rafe and Y/N made their way to the front so Rafe could pay for the dress. 

“Thanks for coming, Wheeze needed someone other than me to give their opinion.” Rafe thanked as he tapped his card to the card reader. 

“Of course, I’d do anything for Wheezie, plus I got a head start on looking for dresses.” Y/N told him. 

Rafe glanced around the boutique and then back to Y/N, “Did you want to try on anything?” 

She shook her head, “No, I don’t think I’ve seen anything that calls to me yet.” 

Rafe smiled, “Picky, picky, just like you used to be.” 

She shrugged, “What can I say, I like only the very best.” Rafe’s lips quirked up at her statement and he just shook his head and Y/N laughed as they waited for Wheezie to finish up in the dressing room. 

It wasn’t much later that Wheezie came out dress in hand. She handed the dress to the attendant at the cash register before the trio headed out. Wheezie mentioned being hungry and Rafe suggested that they grab something to eat before the drive back, which is how they found themselves sitting on the patio of a small Italian place. 

Rafe was laughing at something Wheezie had said and Y/N was watching him, she hadn’t noticed it before because she was so adamant on despising Rafe during their rivalry, but Rafe Cameron was beautiful and she couldn’t help but admire his beauty. 

---

[myusuchaa]

Elbert Greetia - Main Route Release Countdown

1 Day - 1 Thing Elbert Would Say on a Date

1 way Elbert would act/say/do on a date with you:

Consent. Consent. Consent! Elbert will always ask “Can I … touch/kiss/hug you?” rather than automatically putting his arm on you or stealing kisses. Much of it has to do with his background, but Elbie is very physical consent minded. We see an example of this from the Black Wedding story event, where upon being asked to pretend to marry Kate, Elbert first says he must consult with her on it and then proceeds to practice acting like a couple to see if it would make her uncomfortable. Only after getting to know him well and opening up emotionally does he start to show the yan side of his personality (increasing bond level). We will see this more reserved nature of his in his route, which is one reason why his route can be considered a slow burn-to-drama route.

Of course once he makes it known he’s after you and you agree you’re his… he can show his adoration quite affectionately, ahem, hehe

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

~~ Elbert Greetia Main Story Route releases August 1st at 6PM PST!! Will you be playing??

[mybelovedwoo]

정윤호 - Jeong Yunho

yunho drabbles:

>when rain meets sunshine (coming soon)