crave the applause yet hate the attention

Maeve

For a moment, she thinks he might give in. She thinks she might have him. Maeve does want him. At least physically. She doesn't know him well enough to want anything else. Her breathing stutters out against his lips as they part, waiting for him to close that last bit of space. His hands press at her. Claw at her. Pulling her closer until there isn't any space between their bodies. He smells like ash and the ocean and Maeve wonders if he tastes like it too. Is there salt to be found on his skin? More scars to map with her fingers and mouth? Scales to tease with her fingers and wings to grip onto as he towers over her?

Before she even has a chance to let a fantasy take shape, the light of the moon washes back over them both. Her lashes flutter as she readjusts to the light and his grip loosens. Instead finding home on her hips as he looks down at her with an apology already swimming in his eyes. Maeves draws in a breath, a small smile tugging at her lips as her hands rest against his chest once she lets go of his horn. The rejection stings faintly and it does enough to sober her.

Maeve licks her lips, dropping her gaze as a flush rises to her cheeks, "It's okay. No need to worry about little old me. I can handle being turned down." And she can. He means nothing by it and she can accept that. He just can't and that's fine. She can accept that. "I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself." Maeve offers with a laugh, finally meeting his gaze again.

Poor little girl
still waiting for her happy ending