#no described defining features for reader

[satellite-evans]

sea view

Pairing: Harry Styles x wife!reader

Summary: Harry and his pregnant wife spending a day at the beach <3

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: fluff

A/N:

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, recommendations, vents or questions are always welcome. I love talking to you guys about anything <3

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

The golden sun hung lazily on the horizon, stretching its warm fingers across the beach. Each wave that lapped at the shore seemed to echo the steady rhythm of your heart, entwined with his. Harry’s hand slid down to yours, lacing your fingers together as you walked along the edge of the tide, the cool water occasionally licking at your toes. His thumb traced idle patterns against your skin, the gesture almost absentminded but deeply affectionate. The closeness of him made your chest feel full, as if the love you shared could hardly be contained in such a quiet moment.

Harry stopped suddenly, letting out a content sigh and stretching his arms out wide as if to embrace the entire ocean. “Do you ever stop to think about how mad all this is?” he asked, his voice tinged with wonder. He looked back at you, his eyes softening as they landed on your growing bump. “Me, you, this little bean in here.”

His free hand grazed your belly, his fingertips trailing delicately over the fabric of your sundress. The tenderness of the gesture sent a wave of warmth through you, a shiver of excitement and love.

“Mad is one way to describe it,” you replied, a smile curling on your lips. “Miraculous is another.”

“Miraculous,” Harry repeated, the word rolling off his tongue as if savoring it. He stopped walking entirely, tugging your hand gently to pull you closer. The sight of him then—bathed in the amber glow of the setting sun, his features soft with awe—took your breath away.

“I don’t think there’s a single word that could do justice to this,” he said, his voice quieter now. His hand splayed fully over your belly, his fingers flexing slightly as if memorizing the curve of your form. “Or to you.”

You felt your cheeks flush under his gaze, and you ducked your head instinctively, embarrassed by the intensity of his admiration. Harry wasn’t having it, though. His fingers tilted your chin up with a gentle insistence, and his smile—equal parts cheeky and adoring—melted your heart.

“Don’t you dare look away,” he teased, his voice low and playful. “I want to see that glow.”

“Harry, you’re ridiculous,” you mumbled, though you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling.

“Ridiculously in love with my wife,” he corrected, leaning down to nuzzle his nose against yours. “And ridiculously lucky that she agreed to carry my baby, even if I did forget to take the bins out last night.”

“Oh, don’t think I’ve forgotten that,” you quipped, poking him lightly in the chest. “But maybe I’ll forgive you… if you’re good.”

“Define ‘good,’” he murmured, his voice dropping into that lower, teasing tone that always turned your knees to jelly.

Before you could answer, he kissed you. It was slow and deep, like the tide itself had paused just to give you this moment. His lips moved against yours with a kind of reverence that made your heart race, and when he finally pulled back, you were breathless, leaning into him for support.

“Good enough?” he asked, a smirk tugging at his lips.

You laughed, pushing lightly at his chest. “Barely. But you’re getting there.”

By the time you reached the blanket he’d set up on the sand, Harry had already shrugged off his shoes and set down the picnic basket he’d carried. The blanket was oversized and ridiculously plush, covered in cushions that looked far too fancy for a beach day. You arched a brow at him as you lowered yourself carefully onto it.

“This is very… elaborate,” you teased, smoothing a hand over the soft fabric.

“Only the best for my girl,” Harry said, dropping to his knees beside you and immediately pulling a container of strawberries from the basket.

“For the lady,” he said with a theatrical flourish, holding one up to your lips. The grin on his face was pure mischief, but it softened when you took the strawberry, your teeth sinking into the juicy fruit. He watched you like you were performing magic, his gaze warm and unblinking.

“You’re spoiling me,” you said, leaning back against the cushions with a smirk.

“You deserve to be spoiled,” he replied, his voice turning serious. He shifted to lie on his side next to you, propping himself up on one elbow. His free hand found its natural place on your bump, his fingers spreading wide as though he wanted to feel every inch of the connection between you and the baby. “Can I spoil you a little more?”

“What are you up to, Styles?” you asked suspiciously, narrowing your eyes.

“I was thinking,” he said, a mischievous glint sparking in his gaze, “that the sea looks awfully inviting. Fancy a swim?”

You hesitated, glancing out at the gentle waves. “I don’t know. I feel like a beached whale these days.”

Harry let out a laugh, his eyes crinkling in that way that made your heart flutter. “Don’t even joke about that. You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your temple. “And I mean it. Come on, love. Let me hold you in the water. It'll feel good.”

The water was cooler than you’d expected, but not unpleasant. True to his word, Harry’s arms were around you the moment you waded in, holding you close as if you might drift away.

“See? This isn’t so bad, is it?” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke. The closeness made your heart flutter, and you wrapped your arms around his neck for balance.

“No, not bad,” you admitted, leaning into him. The sensation of the water buoying your weight was freeing, and you found yourself relaxing completely against his chest.

Harry’s hands roamed gently—one resting against the curve of your lower back, the other slipping under the water to cradle your belly. His thumb rubbed soft circles, and his touch felt reverent, almost worshipful.

“You’re carrying a part of me,” he said, his voice quiet, almost as if he was talking to himself. “Our baby. How do you do it? How are you this strong?”

Your throat tightened at his words, but you managed a small laugh. “I think you’ve got a romanticized view of it. There’s a lot of complaining and ice cream involved.”

“And I’ll listen to every complaint and buy every pint of ice cream for the rest of our lives,” he vowed, pressing a lingering kiss to your shoulder. “You’re everything to me, you know that?”

You nodded, suddenly overcome with emotion. “I love you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the waves.

Harry kissed you then, his lips capturing yours with a tenderness that made you feel as though the entire world had disappeared.

When you returned to the blanket, the sun was dipping below the horizon, leaving the sky painted in hues of pink and orange. Harry handed you a towel and then promptly decided it was a better idea to dry your legs himself, taking far longer than necessary and sneaking cheeky kisses every time he bent closer.

“You know what I think?” he said, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Hmm?”

“I think our baby is going to be just like you—kind, strong, stubborn as hell,” he teased, earning a light elbow to the ribs. He winced dramatically. “Oi, I’m fragile, you know!”

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” you replied, trying to sound annoyed, though your smile betrayed you.

“Insufferably handsome,” he corrected, puffing his chest out a little. “And insufferably mad about you.”

“Oh, here we go,” you groaned playfully, covering your face with your hands. “Should I prepare myself for another Shakespearean sonnet about my ‘radiant glow’?”

“Not just a glow—your divine luminescence,” he countered with a grin, rolling onto his back and pretending to gaze at the sky. “It rivals the sun, the moon, the stars—”

“Alright, enough!” you said, laughing as you reached for a pillow from the blanket and swung it at him. Harry caught it with a laugh, holding it above his head like a trophy.

“Violence against a man praising his wife!” he exclaimed, shaking his head in mock disapproval. “What will the baby think?”

“They’ll think you’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously in love,” he shot back, leaning over to kiss you despite the pillow still clutched in his hand. “But you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly as you pushed him back onto the blanket. “You’re lucky I love you.”

Harry grinned, tossing the pillow aside and pulling you closer until your head rested on his chest again. “I really am,” he said quietly, the humor giving way to genuine affection in his tone. After a beat, he added, “But if the baby gets my sense of humor, you’re in trouble.”

“Oh, God,” you groaned, shaking your head. “Then I really will be outnumbered.”

Harry let out a loud laugh, the sound blending with the waves as the sky deepened into twilight. The two of you stayed there, bickering playfully and exchanging kisses until the stars began to appear, painting the start of your next chapter in a perfect blend of love and laughter.

[slaytheusurper]

⭑ The prince of pleasure ⭑

Masterlist

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Niece!reader

Summary: You and your uncle always had fun growing up and when you see each other years later, he knows just where to take your for some real fun.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ mdni, family feud, Aegon being a bad influence, making out, grinding/dry humping, oral (f receiving), vaginal sex, titty sucking.

A/N: Inspired by Rhaenyra's and Daemon's adventures, and parts of dinner scene in episode 8 S1. Can you tell I miss season one :(?

Word count: 4.6k

Your heart almost came up in your throat as you descended the stairs behind your family. After the petition and the announcement of your brother's bethrotals, the king wished to spend supper with his entire family, finally reunited. This was, of course, doomed from the start. The strained and tense relationships had never really washed away. There had always been a weird dynamic between your two uncle’s and you and your brothers. But one thing was for sure, you all kind of ganged up on Aemond. He was just easy to pick on. This created a sort of mischievous and friendly dynamic between you and Aegon. You both hadn’t seen each other since the whole ‘incident’ on Driftmark. Eager to see him but also anxious were the only words you could use to describe the weird feeling in your abdomen. 

Both of you had grown into your own person, you had finally gone through puberty, curved hips, filled out breasts, sharper and more defined features. And even your silver hair had grown longer, but tonight it was braided in the style of your house. As well as being styled in a beautiful red and black dress. And as you finally arrived, before the king it seemed, you saw him there. He turned around in his chair, his mouth slightly agape as he took you in. His hands seemed bigger, his shoulders broader, circles under his eyes and his lips stained red from wine. A habit he hadn’t grown out of by the looks of him. You took a deep breath at the sight of him, pressing any affectionate feelings deep down. 

He quickly turned back in his seat as you and your family took yours. Of course, your brother had to leave one chair between him and Aegon as his betrothed sat on his right side. Are you fucking kidding me, why couldn’t he have just been mature and took the seat. To avoid suspicion you tried to set your thoughts aside and hurriedly took your seat, already earning a confused look from your mother. Luckily for you there wasn’t any time for conversation as the arrival of the king was announced and you had to stand up again. When he was seated at the table as well, he started off with a speech that quickly got drowned out by your own thoughts. Somehow you couldn’t shake the feeling of him staring. But why would he?

However, your intuition was right because just as you glanced to the side, you already caught him staring. That bastard only made things harder. You could feel his glances on you the entirety of your grandsire’s speech. It made you want to be sucked up by the floor, never to be seen again. But why couldn’t you help yourself from glancing once every while either? All those thoughts were put to a stop when the king sat down again. Your family started a seemingly peaceful conversation with one another. But then, the inevitable... Aegon leaned to his right, where you were seated, and got a bit closer to your ear. The stench of wine and his musk, which was way more enticing than you wanted to admit, filling your nose.

“It’s been a long time hasn’t it, dear niece?” Fuck- His voice had matured too, not as nasal and annoying as it once was. But deep and smooth, cold and hot at the same time. But he had more of a mischievous tone to it, which instantly made goosebumps ripple over your skin. “Yes it has. Still a strong taste for wine I see.” You mused. Keeping a light but inviting tone yourself. “Oh- and she has become more brazen as well.” He grinned, still keeping close to you. You knew he was planning on fucking up this whole dinner tonight, but maybe you were looking forward to that. The annoying voice of Otto Hightower already making you lose your patience. “As well?” You gave him a questioning look, finally acknowledging him. 

“Must I really say it?” He was clearly drunk with the way he observed your tits in the corseted dress. You must admit, you did pick one of your more revealing gowns tonight. Either by accident or on purpose, Aegon cared not. He was just glad you seemed to give him a view to enjoy tonight. “Yes, you must. What do you mean by that?” Clearly you had no idea what he insinuated and oh did that make this all more perfect for Aegon. “Fine. You have matured. Grown into your body, I suppose.” Lowering his voice and choosing more careful words. He didn’t want this dinner to be over yet. “Oh- I- uhm, thank you uncle. That is kind of you to say. You have matured as well. Less...skinny.” That earned you a grin, one you had missed more than you thought. 

Your brothers were always fun to be around but as they got older they started to become more serious. Something that hadn’t caught up with you yet. Jace cared more about his studies and Luke about training with the sword, and Joffrey was too young to have any real fun with. But Aegon hadn't changed as much it seemed, and it made you happy. Knowing that during your stay, you could maybe find some good company in him. Maybe even make it like the old days and pester Aemond a bit, although he had matured too and become more intimidating, so you decided against that part. That was especially proven when the king parted for the night and a pig was brought in, and set right in front of Aemond. Giving one glance to your brothers, you three couldn’t help but let out a snigger. To which Aemond rose from his seat, slamming his hands on the table in a fit of rage, one he hadn’t felt since the old days.

“Final tribute.” He began as he raised his cup to which Aegon mirrored him. You gave your brothers a knowing look. This could only go one way. “To the health of my nephews.” There we go. “Jace, Luke and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise…strong.” Alicent gave Aemond a warning but he didn’t give a single fuck, too blinded by hurt and embarrassment. “Come, let us drain our cups to these three strong boys.” You didn’t think he would really go there as Aegon was usually the one to ruin events but Aemond always had a taste for the dramatics. “I dare you say that again.” Jace spoke up, he was always sensitive about the rumours and accusations. Saying you could never understand with your Valyrian features. “Why? ‘Twas only a compliment. Do you not think yourself strong?” 

Aemond really had to take it further. Jace at this point had stood up and stalked towards Aemond in a fury. Aaand dinner ruined. Jace landed the first punch, then all hell broke loose. Luke stood up as well wanting to help his brother defend their honour. But Aegon stopped him slamming him on the table. Making you stand up and push Aegon off him. Your mother and Alicent were all yelling at this point, guards were stepping in and you were all pulled off each other. “Why would you say such a thing in front of all these people?” Alicent scowled. “I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family mother. Although my nephews aren’t quite as proud of theirs!” Aemond raised his voice, really making sure your brothers heard it. Jace broke free, ready to launch himself at Aemond again but Daemon stopped him. “Go to your quarters, all of you go, now.” Your mother put an end to it. 

At least supper went as expected, however you knew you needed to clear your mind and cool off before going to bed so you sneaked out to the gardens. However while you were out, a knock landed on your door. Aegon stood there with a bag and a note. He didn’t expect you to disobey your mother and leave but that only confirmed he could make it up to you tonight. His way. He slid inside your chambers and left the bag accompanied by the note on your table, and sneaked away. This was the real test, he thought. To see if you were still the daring, brazen and reckless girl of all those years ago. 

When you returned to your chambers one of the guards let you know who stopped by. And that he left something in your chambers. Curious as to what Aegon could have possibly brought you, you hurriedly stepped inside and closed the door. There it was, the bag on the table and the note of course. Opening it with haste, your face fell into a frown, old dirty commoners clothes? What the fuck kind of gift was that? But your gaze fell on the note beside. You grabbed it and revealed the messy handwriting inside. “Meet me at the back entrance if you want a real fun experience tonight. -The Drunken Fool.” The smile on your face was uncontrollable as you discarded your regal gown and stepped into the musty clothes of the bag, pulling your hair into a bun to tuck underneath the hat that Aegon left in there as well. With one look in the mirror to make sure you didn’t leave any white strands out you left your chambers during the guards shift change, with there always being about two minutes between their shuffle. Something you remembered quite well from your childhood. 

Giggles and laughs almost escaped you every time you managed to evade guards and servants. At last you found your way outside, no one there recognizing you as you tried to make your way to Aegon. Passing a few people you met his gaze as he stood by the back entrance, a couple of feet away from you, wearing his usual attire and accompanied by two men. You smiled at him and started to walk over to him, when you all of a sudden felt a hand grip your upper arm pulling you back. A gold cloak stopped you. Panic seeped in your skin as you were terrified of being caught. “Girl. What is your business here?” His hoarse voice broke the giddy haze you were in. “Let her go immediately.” You almost didn’t notice Aegon coming to the rescue until he was already at your side. “My prince. I apologise, I didn’t know she was with you.” He grabbed your hand and pulled you with him. 

“I have never been called ‘girl’ before.” You chuckled. “Keep your voice down, no one can know you’re here.” Aegon shushed you. Dragging you with him through the city. The two men following you. “What about them?” You asked as you nodded behind you. “They don’t know who you are, told them you were a whore I picked out to take for the night.” He grinned, still accompanying you through Flea Bottom, the streets of which you recognised. “A? Whore?” You asked confused. Oh no. Aegon thought. Did you really know nothing about sex? Pleasure? He was about to take the night a lot further than he initially planned. He wanted to take you out drinking, to get a break from his boring family and have some fun with the only person who didn’t judge him. But you still being innocent in that regard made him swell in his pants. He was going to show you a lot more fun than you thought. 

“How about I explain when we get to the place huh?” Aegon bit his lip in anticipation, he walked past the tavern where he originally planned to take you and continued walking- to the streets of silk. There was one particular pleasure house where he could have his privacy with you. As you both reached the door of the place, moans could already faintly be heard outside and Aegon noticed your face grow confused. You made this so much harder for him. He ordered the guards to wait outside and took your hand once more to lead you inside. When you entered your jaw almost crashed through the floor at the sight. People everywhere, naked as the day they were born. At least most of them, the others barely wearing anything. They were all over each other, men on women, men on men and even women on women. All screaming, moaning, whining and groaning in pleasure. You looked around, mouth agape as Aegon looked only at you. 

Your reaction was better than he could’ve ever dreamed about. “A whore is someone who gets paid to pleasure a man, or woman. That all happens here. In a pleasure house, you see, pleasure is the greatest thing the gods have ever given us. Besides wine. Marriage is a duty, but fucking is a pleasure.” He whispered in your ear. You almost moaned at his words. A tingly and heated feeling spreading through your body. Aegon squeezed your hand and led you through the people, their eyes occasionally landing on Aegon. He probably came here often? As a serving girl recognised him, she gestured for him to follow her. Taking you both to the back of the building, curtains were revealed. Aegon told the girl to piss off, opened the curtains and revealed a decently sized room, a large round bed inside. Which was decorated with pillows and blankets. Hundreds of candles were lit on the incavings of the walls in the room. 

Aegon closed the curtains and led you on the bed, removing the muffy hat you were wearing. “Do you... come here a lot?” You asked, a slight tremble in your voice. You still didn’t fully grasp the concept of what was exactly happening here, but you were beginning to understand. “I do, and before you go back to Dragon Stone. I’ll show you what real pleasure and fun can be.” He murmured, leaning in a bit closer. He now stroked your cheek. Your lips parted and you could feel the slick and ache between your thighs. The feeling of it becoming uncomfortable, you pressed your legs together, kneeled on the bed before Aegon, who was eyeing you hungrily, the action not going unnoticed. “Does it hurt, little niece?” He asked, lust and impatience filling his body. He knew you didn’t know you craved his touch, but he knew. All too well in fact. You could only nod, a small whimper leaving your lips.

Aegon felt dizzy, his cock was now fully hard. He was probably in more pain than you. He never felt this horny, this pent up. He could feel the precum sticking to the inside of his breeches. “Let me show you, teach you. Real pleasure.” You could only whimper in response. “Kiss me.” You let out a breath and kissed him on the cheek. “No darling, on my lips. It will feel better, I promise.” You obeyed and kissed him softly on his lips. A spark igniting in you at the touch. Aegon felt it too, as he pressed his lips more firm against you. His hands pulling you closer but his desire for you was far from satiated. He deepened the kiss and forced your lips open, prodding his tongue inside. You still awkwardly kissed back and he pulled back a moment. “Try to move your tongue against mine love.” His voice came out hoarse and raspy. You tried to do as you were told, kissing him once more, you moved your tongue against his, getting saliva on both of your lips. Aegon sucked on your tongue and moved his hands in your hair. 

You could feel the vibration of his groans on your lips, on your tongue. You felt yourself pulsate between your legs and pressed your thighs together once more. Aegon didn’t slow the kiss as he now licked your teeth and nibbled on your bottom lip as well. Then he moved back, sitting against the headboard as he moved you on top of him. Sitting on his lap, you started to mimic his tongue movements, licking his teeth as well and sucking on his tongue. Then he moved his hands lower, towards your ass. Only then it really hit you what was happening. You ripped your lips away from his. “Aegon- what- wait we can’t do this.” Aegon was afraid you would realise. This is what the septa’s meant when they would tell you you couldn’t dishonour yourself. 

“Shh, don’t you worry about that. I promise it will be fine. Don’t you want to get rid of that ache? Don’t you want to feel good?” He panted, still lust filled. Desire clouded your mind and judgement and before you could think about it more, Aegon pulled you further on his lap. Right on something hard, hitting that aching spot between your thighs just right. You let out a moan at the feeling. How could you stop now? The pain and ache would become overbearing and besides, Aegon did this all the time. And he was just being so nice showing you how good you could feel. Aegon moaned in response. Did that make him feel just as good as it felt for you? Wanting to chase that feeling, you grinded your hips yourself this time. 

“Fuck- yes just like that. This feels just as good for me as it does for you.” You shuddered at his words. “What is that-” You whined. He grabbed your hand that was resting on his shoulder and moved it between his legs, letting your hand grip his bulge. “That, is my cock. And it feels so fucking good when you touch it. And when I touch you between your legs,” He paused, moving his own hand between your legs, letting his thumb graze your clothed clit. “right over your cunt, it will feel amazing for you.” You gasped at the feeling and his words, never did you feel you so excited, good and hot at the same time. And the urge for more only grew. “So I beg of you, don’t stop. For the good of both of us.” Aegon pleaded, moving his hand back to your ass and helping you grind on him this time.

You could only chant ‘yes’ in response accompanied by moans and whines. Aegon, not being quiet himself, let out his filthies moans and groans. Pulling your head down a bit, he kissed you again. Using his other hand to keep you steady while you humped each other like animals in heat. His covered cock hitting your clit just right every time, and the slick covering your cunt making it easier to grind against each other. Your breath caught in your throat as you pulled away from Aegon, never stopping your hips that grinded on him. “Aegon, some- something is happening- I don’t- please, more- more!” You mumbled incoherently as you felt an intense amount of pleasure building up, your entire body about to burst. “Fuck- good girl. You’re about to cum. You gonna cum for me little princess? You gonna cum for your uncle?” His vulgar words sent you over the edge as you felt waves of fire cursing through your body. One long moan left your lips as your grip on Aegon’s shoulders tightened, pressing yourself as hard as you could against his erection. 

Aegon let out a groan at the sight of you, mouth agape, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure, a light sweat covering you. What a divine sight before him. It was worth every restraint of staying sober before your outing. Just so he could remember every detail. When you had calmed down, your eyes locked, you shared a breathy chuckle. “This is only the beginning.” Your eyes widened at his words. Aegon moved his hands to your tunic and started to pull it off, you decided to do the same. Removing his tunic as well. His skin exposed, his abs and toned arms out for only you to see. He could only focus on your hardened nipples, the soft flesh looking beautiful under the candlelight. He couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted to and immediately dove in on your breasts. Suckling and licking your nipples, your hands moving to his neck. You needed to hold on to him, otherwise you were sure you would lose it. 

As he held you, nipple in mouth, he moved you on your back. His hips now back to rutting against you, but it still wasn’t enough. “Need more, more of you princess.” He huffed. He removed himself from you and pulled the old pants you were wearing down, immediately revealing your slick cunt. “Fuck- it’s almost as if you did this on purpose.” He grinned, fully ripping the pants off, with a wet stain at the crotch, to throw it to the side. You didn’t however, you just didn’t have access to men’s breeches and womens smallclothes wouldn’t do in pants. His thumb circled your clit and Aegon looked at you through hooded eyes, small pants leaving his lips. How could he ever go back to regular boring whores when he had a Valyrian princess to devour? He decided he no longer had time for patience and removed his own pants, removing his breeches as well in the process.

You leaned on your elbows, curious to see what his cock looked like bare. Aegon let you stare, he loved the effect he was having on you, the first to be having this effect on you. His cock stood proud, curved, veiny, leaking and red from arousal. Balls filled with seed, eager to be emptied and white pubic hair trailing from his navel to his pelvis. You licked your lips at the sight, an urge filled Aegon as he took the base of his cock and trailed the head between your folds. A low grunt escaped him and you let out a whine at the feeling. Finding your tight hole, he let spit dribble from his lips on his cock, although he doubted he needed it, he didn’t want to hurt you.

Holding the base still, he guided the head to your entrance and with a bit of resistance he managed to get the tip inside, a moan filling the room as he felt your tight hole suck him in. The primal urge to fill you, pound into you until you were stuffed with his seed overtook him but he had to take it slow. “Such a good girl aren’t you? But so disobedient at the same time, taking your uncle’s cock in a pleasure house, in the middle of the night.” He groaned at his own words. Only the idea of it already made him hard. Never could he have fantasised about the real pleasure. He pushed further into you when he felt you relax, you whimpered but didn’t feel too much pain. Checking in on you he now fully sheathed himself inside, hitting your cervix. 

You moaned and gripped the sheets beneath you, your legs wrapping around his waist. A sign for him to start fucking you. Aegon kissed your neck and started to slowly rut into you. “Yeah, feel good? You’re making me feel so fucking good love- your tight cunt wrapped around me. Taking me so well, my own little whore.” He grunted as he fucked into you harder. The sounds of sweaty skin smacking against each other and both of your sounds of pleasure filling the room. “More please- uncle- please!” You begged, you finally knew what he was talking about, what he craved- why he goes here. “You want more? How about you get on your stomach? Ass in the air little princess.” His voice sounded demanding and depraved. He pulled out so you could move, you both hissed at the loss of contact. Being in position he wasted no time pushing his sensitive cock back inside you. 

Pounding into you again he grabbed the flesh of your ass helping you move into him as well. “Fuck- You’re perfect- So fucking perfect. Don’t think I can let you leave after this. Gonna need you every night-” He felt his balls tighten, a sign of his release approaching soon, he wanted to chase it, fill you up real good but he also didn’t want to stop yet, for reality to come back. “Doing so good for your uncle darling- so good-” He spoke the words pound for pound making your moans louder and louder. “Yes! All for you Aegon- only for you! Just want your cock please-” You barely even knew what you were saying, all you knew was that he was right, you could never go back to normal after this. His thrusts became more staggered and harsher, giving a couple more before pulling out and letting ropes of his cum painting your ass, long and whiny moans leaving his lips at the sight. You whimpered at the feeling of his warm sticky cum hitting your skin. Taking a deep breath he fell beside you and pulled you close, ignoring the blood on the sheets. 

“I don’t think I can stop myself from taking you again.” He whispered in your ear, his hot breath making you shiver. “I don’t want you to stop yourself, I’m already tainted now, what does it matter anymore.” You both laid in each other's arms for some time before Aegon decided to kiss you again. Letting his tongue trace your lips, before entering your mouth. You both made out for a bit before Aegon felt his cock stir again. The power you held over him was dangerous. He removed his lips from yours and laid you on your back again, before kissing down your stomach. “Aegon, what are you doing?” You asked hazily. “Kissing you somewhere else.” When he reached your folds he kissed them softly before kitten licking your clit, making you jerk your body at the feeling. You were still sensitive from the grinding and his warm, wet tongue felt way too good. 

“Oh- do that again, please- harder.” Aegon grinned at your reaction, feeling his chest swell with pride at how he was already making you beg again. He did as you asked and started lapping feverishly at your folds. Occasionally prodding his tongue inside you. His hands held you in place by your tits while your own found his silver locks tugging at the roots. He groaned against your cunt and sucked on your clit. Your feet tensed up at the feeling, and your hands tugged his head closer, basically grinding on his face. Aegon wanted nothing more than to have you cum once more, all over his face. As he lapped and sucked your release came closer, Aegon would devour you every night if he could. He flicked his tongue faster as your moans grew louder and curses fell from your lips. With one shattering moan you fell apart, moaning Aegon’s name as your vision went black and fire cursed through you once more. When you calmed, Aegon gave your cunt one last kiss before laying beside you again. 

“I want to do that to you.” You huffed, a smile on your face as the post orgasm still flowed through you. “Another day if we can, darling.” You frowned at that. “Sadly we must get back soon, before we raise any alarms.” You sat up, the reality of it all hitting you. Yet you felt no regret. “This was- unforgettable, Aegon.” You smiled, looking back at him as he still laid on the bed. “That it was.” He agreed. How could corruption feel so good?

[xvysarene]

ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕕

Pairing: LADS Men (Main 4) x Fem!Reader Prompt: When you're feeling needy 🫦 Words: ~1.8k || 400-500 per LI Genre: Suggestive (Explicit), Established relationship Notice: Mentions of kink, nudity, sexual acts A/N: It's my birth week, and I'd like to give a little something to all of you who have supported me so far! Obviously, I was ovulating when I wrote this.

[ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST] || Scorched (When the boys are feeling needy)

⊱ 𝕏𝕒𝕧𝕚𝕖𝕣

The sight of Xavier fresh from his workout was… intoxicating. He leaned against the doorway, chest rising and falling with each exhale, face a little flushed from the exercise.

His white, mesh tank top clung to his torso, accentuating every contour of his sculpted abs. You couldn't tear your eyes away from the droplets of perspiration gliding down his defined biceps.

Innocently, he tilted his head. “𝑊ℎ𝑦 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑙𝘰𝘰𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝘵 𝑚𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝘵ℎ𝑎𝘵?”

The wait for him to finish his exercise had been almost unbearable, each passing minute pulling tighter the simmering anticipation that now felt nearly overwhelming.

“𝐿𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝘵?”

He took a step closer, the space between you shrinking. “𝐿𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝘰𝑢’𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑏𝘰𝑢𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝑑𝑒𝜈𝘰𝑢𝑟 𝑚𝑒.”

“𝘑𝑢𝑠𝘵… 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎𝘵𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝘵ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑑 𝑤𝘰𝑟𝑘,” you replied, voice much breathier than intended. Though, the subtle biting of your lip betrayed any pretense of innocence.

A slow smirk formed on his lips. “𝐼’𝑚 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑎𝘵𝑦 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑔𝑟𝘰𝑠𝑠, 𝘵ℎ𝘰𝑢𝑔ℎ,” he said teasingly.

“𝛮𝘰𝘵 𝑔𝑟𝘰𝑠𝑠.” You felt a blush creep up your neck, breath quickening as heat pooled low in your belly. “𝛢𝑐𝘵𝑢𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦, 𝑖𝘵’𝑠 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝘰𝑓 𝑖𝑟𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑠𝘵𝑖𝑏𝑙𝑒.”

Xavier’s knees bumped into yours as he stood tall before you. How he looked down at you made your heart race with every beat.

“𝐼𝑠 𝘵ℎ𝑎𝘵 𝑠𝘰?” His tone was playful, but there was a dangerous edge to it.

The room suddenly felt too small, too warm, as he leaned in, a flicker of something darker crossed his features.

“𝑊ℎ𝑎𝘵’𝑠 𝘰𝑛 𝑦𝘰𝑢𝑟 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑑?” His breath was hot against your ear as he effortlessly shifted you on the sofa. 

The faint musk of sweat clouded your senses as you parted your legs, welcoming the solid weight of his body pressing into yours.

Tongue-tied, your thoughts scattered, solely concentrating on the way he began deliberately leaving a map of kisses down the column of your neck. 

“𝐼…” The words died in your throat when he lightly bit on the sensitive spot just below your ear, soothing the sting away with his tongue.

“𝐶𝘰𝑚𝑒 𝘰𝑛, 𝑑𝘰𝑛’𝘵 𝑔𝘰 𝑚𝑢𝘵𝑒 𝘰𝑛 𝑚𝑒,” his soft, seductive purr ruined you.

The way your hip involuntarily bucked, desperate to feel every inch of him, sent a ripple of excitement coursing through you as it met his unmistakable bulge.

You swallowed hard. “𝐼—𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝘵 𝑠𝘵𝘰𝑝 𝘵ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑏𝘰𝑢𝘵 𝑦𝘰𝑢. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝑦𝘰𝑢’𝑑 𝑏𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑚, 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝘰𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑘𝑖𝑛 𝑎𝑠 𝑦𝘰𝑢—”

Before you could finish, Xavier yanked his top off, tossing it aside in a blur.

“𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑙𝑒𝘵 𝑚𝑒 𝑏𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝘵ℎ𝑎𝘵 𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑎𝘵𝑖𝘰𝑛 𝘵𝘰 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒.”

Once you felt one of his hands caressing the inner of your twitching thigh, inching higher to cup your core—that wouldn’t stay clothed for too long—you knew that he would satisfy every craving you had.

⊱ ℝ𝕒𝕗𝕒𝕪𝕖𝕝

A week of waiting for Rafayel to return from his international exhibition felt like hell—especially with his endless teasing, sending you lewd pictures and provocative texts which only made it worse.

The constant reminders of what you couldn’t have gnawed your patience thin.

Like that photo of his glistening chest, fresh from the shower, while bearing a towel low on his hips, displaying the lines of his Apollo’s belt and the hint of what lay beneath.

Or when he sent you that audio message, voice rough and raspy, graphically describing what he wanted to do to you. His laboured breathing and the rustling of sheets hinted at the naughty thing he was doing, likely touching himself.

“𝛭𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑚𝑒, 𝑔𝘰𝑟𝑔𝑒𝘰𝑢𝑠?” Rafayel called out from the front door.

You ran to him, unable to contain yourself any longer. As soon as he was within reach, your arms went around his neck, pulling him down into a desperate kiss.

“𝑇ℎ𝑎𝘵 𝑚𝑢𝑐ℎ, ℎ𝑢ℎ?” he murmured, breath hot against your lips, palms squeezing your ass with a playful touch.

“𝛭𝘰𝑟𝑒 𝘵ℎ𝑎𝑛 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑘𝑛𝘰𝑤,” you whispered, fingers tangling in his dusky purple hair. “𝑌𝘰𝑢 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝘰𝑢𝑟 𝑑𝑎𝑚𝑛 𝑝𝑖𝑐𝘵𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑠.”

A wicked smile painted his lips. “𝘑𝑢𝑠𝘵 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝘵𝘰 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝘵 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔.”

Without another word, he scooped you up and carried you to the bedroom. If it were up to you, though, you would have been fine even on the parlour’s floor.

In a whirlwind of kisses and tangled limbs, he expertly discarded your clothes, laying you bare beneath him.

His eyes drank every inch of you, desire palpable in the way he pressed you into the sheets.

“𝐼 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑠𝘰 𝑚𝑢𝑐ℎ,” you breathed, arching against him as you were finally feeling the warmth of his bare skin again.

“𝐼 𝑘𝑛𝘰𝑤.” His teeth found your ear, tugging at the lobe. “𝐼’𝜈𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑐𝘰𝑢𝑛𝘵𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝘵ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑢𝑛𝘵𝑖𝑙 𝐼 𝑐𝘰𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑏𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝘵ℎ 𝑦𝘰𝑢, 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑦𝘰𝑢, 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛.”

His hands were everywhere, and he was a menace, deliberately taking his time in memorising every dip and curve of your body, stopping you from taking things fast.

Rafayel tutted when he felt your trembling hands graze his belt. “𝛮𝘰𝘵 𝑠𝘰 𝑓𝑎𝑠𝘵, ℎ𝘰𝑛𝑒𝑦.” As a punishment, he pinned your wrists above your head, securing them with his belt. Tightly.

The whimpers coming out of your mouth only fueled him more. He chuckled at your impatience, leaving more butterfly kisses down your stomach, before beginning his descent to where you throbbed most intensely.

“𝛦𝑦𝑒𝑠 𝘰𝑛 𝑚𝑒,” he demanded, his voice commanding and gentle all at once.

A smouldering fire lit up in his pretty orbs as your eyes locked with his. “𝛮𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝘵𝘰 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝘰𝑤 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑐𝘰𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑝𝑎𝑟𝘵 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝐼 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛.”

⊱ ℤ𝕒𝕪𝕟𝕖

Your fascination with Zayne’s hands may have to be questioned.

There was something undeniably captivating about them, scars and all—those pale, jagged lines, if anything, only added to their charm. 

For all their roughness, there was a grace in his hands. They had saved countless lives. And they also knew how to bring pleasure, especially when those skilled fingers delved into your—

“𝛨𝘰𝑤 𝑚𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑙𝘰𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑔𝘰𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝘵𝘰 𝑠𝘵𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝘵 𝑚𝑦 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠?”

Lost in thought, you didn’t even realise that Zayne had abandoned reading the journals altogether. His attention was now entirely on you.

“𝐼𝑠 𝑖𝘵 𝑎 𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝘵𝘰 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎𝘵𝑒 𝘵ℎ𝑒𝑚?”

A knowing smile pulled at the corner of his lips. With a gentle flick to your forehead, he murmured, “𝑌𝘰𝑢’𝑟𝑒 𝘰𝜈𝑢𝑙𝑎𝘵𝑖𝑛𝑔.”

Of course, he kept track of your cycle. How he noted your dilated pupils and the rosy hue tinting your cheeks only confirmed what he already knew: your libido was reaching its peak.

Driven by the growing desire, you flung a leg over his thigh, straddling the solid muscle beneath you, seeking the contact you craved.

“𝛢𝑛𝑑?” you challenged, “𝑊ℎ𝑎𝘵 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑔𝘰𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝘵𝘰 𝑑𝘰 𝑎𝑏𝘰𝑢𝘵 𝑖𝘵?”

As he shifted to support your weight, the movement created delicious friction through your thin pyjamas, causing an unbidden mewl to spill out of your lips.

His mouth left a trail of heat along your exposed décolleté, tongue flicking out ever so slightly to taste your skin.

“𝛭𝑎𝑦𝑏𝑒 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑠ℎ𝘰𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝘵𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝘵 𝑦𝘰𝑢’𝜈𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝘵ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑏𝘰𝑢𝘵.”

Lips brushing over the sensitive hollow between your collarbones, he pressed a deeper kiss right above your heart. 

Excited, you whispered in his ear, “𝑅𝑖𝑔ℎ𝘵 𝑛𝘰𝑤, 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝘵ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑎𝑏𝘰𝑢𝘵 𝑖𝑠 ℎ𝘰𝑤 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑓𝑒𝑐𝘵 𝑖𝘵 𝑤𝘰𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑏𝑒 𝘵𝘰 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑚𝑒, 𝑓𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑑𝑟𝑜𝑝 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑐𝑢𝑚.”

That stopped him in place. You felt a surge of satisfaction as you watched his eyes darken, almost consuming all the greens in his eyes.

“𝑌𝘰𝑢’𝑟𝑒 𝘵ℎ𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛𝘵𝘰 𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟𝘰𝑢𝑠 𝘵𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑖𝘵𝘰𝑟𝑦.”

Though you typically played it safe, the two of you still indulged in the feeling of raw intimacy every now and then.

Feeling a bold urge, you decided to take it up a notch. “𝐷𝘰𝑛’𝘵 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑖𝑚 𝑚𝑒 𝑐𝘰𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒𝘵𝑒𝑙𝑦, 𝑖𝑛 𝑒𝜈𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑒 𝑝𝘰𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑏𝑙𝑒, 𝑍𝑎𝑦𝑛𝑒?”

The effect was immediate. A low growl was your only warning before he pushed you back against the soft bedding, his masculine body looming over you. 

Those hands that you loved so much moved to your hips, fingers digging in with a bruising grip as he put you in a position that highlighted your vulnerability and his dominance.

“𝐷𝘰𝑛’𝘵 𝑠𝑎𝑦 𝘵ℎ𝑎𝘵 𝐼 𝑑𝑖𝑑𝑛’𝘵 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛 𝑦𝘰𝑢.” His once smooth and controlled voice had turned rough, full of dark promise. “𝑌𝘰𝑢 𝑎𝑠𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑓𝘰𝑟 𝘵ℎ𝑖𝑠.”

⊱ 𝕊𝕪𝕝𝕦𝕤

Nothing looked better than seeing Sylus a bit roughened up after the end of a long day.

Silver strands had grown unruly, hanging down over his forehead. A new scratch blemished his sharp jawline, though the red mark had already faded to a tender pink as he shucked his suit off.

The midnight black dress shirt he had meticulously buttoned earlier had now popped open, blessing you with a view of his firm pectoral muscles.

“𝑊ℎ𝑎𝘵’𝑠 𝑔𝘰𝘵𝘵𝑒𝑛 𝑖𝑛𝘵𝘰 𝑦𝘰𝑢, 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔?” Sylus’s arms snaked around your waist, pulling you flush against his hard body. The towel in your hand slipped from your grasp as he nuzzled into your shoulder like a cat seeking affection.

“𝑊-𝑤ℎ𝑎𝘵?” you stammered.

Goosebumps danced across your skin as he spun you around, trapping you between the cold marble of the shower and the heat radiating from his bare chest.

“𝑌𝘰𝑢’𝜈𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝜈𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑗𝑢𝑚𝑝𝑦 𝑒𝜈𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘 ℎ𝘰𝑚𝑒.”

When his rough palm “accidentally” bumped into the hard nubs of your breasts, a sharp gasp broke free from your lips. His other hand had journeyed between your thighs, finding your essence sticking to the fabric of your shorts.

“𝛢ℎ… 𝑠𝘰𝑚𝑒𝘰𝑛𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑛𝑎𝑢𝑔ℎ𝘵𝑦 𝘵𝘰𝑑𝑎𝑦.”

Bashfully, you attempted to slip away, which was stupid as there was no easy way to escape the solid barrier of his broad frame.

“𝐼𝘵’𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑎 𝑙𝘰𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑓𝘰𝑟 𝑦𝘰𝑢, 𝑔𝘰 𝑠ℎ𝘰𝑤𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑐𝘰𝑚𝑒 𝘵𝘰 𝑏𝑒𝑑,” you managed to blabber out, cheeks burning at the intensity of his gaze.

Your yelp was loud as the rain shower was suddenly switched on, the cascading water drenching you both in an instant.

“𝘚𝑦𝑙𝑢𝑠!”

His rich laughter echoed through the steamy shower. He dipped his head, tugging your hair slightly before his teeth grazed against your pulse point

“𝐿𝑒𝘵’𝑠 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑢𝑝 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝘰𝑟𝑒 𝜤 𝘵𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝘵𝘰 𝑏𝑒𝑑.”

You called out his name in a needy moan, the sound trembling with urgency as he undressed you both. The warm water slicked your skin, and his hands glided over your wet, exposed body with an electrifying touch.

“��𝑟𝑒𝑛’𝘵 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝘵𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑓𝑟𝘰𝑚 𝘵𝘰𝑑𝑎𝑦’𝑠 𝑒𝜈𝑒𝑛𝘵?” you gasped.

Despite the concern, you still eagerly welcomed his mouth as it collided with yours. Your lips parted to invite his tongue in, clawing at his shoulders desperately as you struggled to maintain on your tiptoes.

He pulled back slightly, a playful glint in his eyes. “𝛨𝑚𝑚, 𝑚𝑎𝑦𝑏𝑒 𝐼 𝘰𝑢𝑔ℎ𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑤𝘰𝑟𝑘 𝑓𝘰𝑟 𝑖𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝘵.” The teasing lilt in his voice stole your breath. “𝑊ℎ𝑎𝘵 𝑏𝑒𝘵𝘵𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝘵𝘰 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝘵 𝘵ℎ𝑎𝑛 ℎ𝑎𝜈𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑦 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙 𝑟𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑚𝑒?”

However, as he hoisted you up, his hardness aligning perfectly with your aching need, you knew that he would never let you leave the shower unsatisfied before doing so.

⤷ ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST

[unboundprompts]

How to write about someone’s appearance? Their physique, styles, face , clothes,?

How to Describe a Character's Appearance

-> dabblewriter.com

-> link to Character Description Prompts

Avoid Over-Describing

Overloading readers with too much information can be overwhelming and make your characters feel flat and one-dimensional. Focus on the details that are the most important to the story and the characters themselves.

If the character's appearance is not central to the story, then you may only need to give a basic description. If it plays a significant role, you may want to go into more detail. Always keep the purpose of your physical descriptions in mind.

Show Don't Tell

Don't blatantly state every little thing about your character's appearance, but rather show it through their actions and behaviors.

example: If they are tall, show that through their actions. They have to duck to get under a doorway, they help someone reach the top shelf, etc.

Include Personality Traits

A character's personality is what makes them memorable. Consider their motivations, values, beliefs, and quirks and give them a well-defined personality.

Avoid Stereotypes

Create characters that are more than just their cultural, racial, ethnic, or gender identity. Give them unique interests, hobbies, and personalities. Allow them to have flaws, contradictions, and diverse perspectives.

External Features

External features include a character's height, weight, body type, and general appearance. You can describe their skin color, hair color, eye color, and any distinctive features like freckles or scars. This type of description gives the reader a basic understanding of what the character looks like, which is helpful in creating a mental image.

Clothing

Describing the type of clothing they wear, including the colors, patterns, and how they fit, can reveal a lot about a character’s personality and social status.

For example, a character who wears tailored suits and expensive shoes might be a little snobby and concerned with their image, while a character who wears ripped jeans and t-shirts might be casual and relaxed.

Facial Features

Facial features can be used to give the reader a more in-depth understanding of a character's personality and emotions. You can describe their smile, the way they frown, their cheekbones, and their jawline. You can also describe their eyebrows, the shape of their nose, and the size and shape of their eyes, which can give the reader insight into their emotions.

Body Language

Body language can be used to give the reader an understanding of a character's emotions and personality without the need for dialogue. Describing the way a character stands, walks, or gestures can reveal a lot about their confidence level, mood, and attitude.

For example, a character who slouches and avoids eye contact is likely to be shy, while a character who stands up straight and makes direct eye contact is likely to be confident.

Words to Describe Various Features

Head and face

Oval: rounded, elongated, balanced, symmetrical

Round: full, plump, chubby, cherubic

Square: angular, defined, strong, masculine

Heart: pointy, triangular, wider at the temples, narrow at the chin

Diamond: angular, pointed, narrow at the forehead and jaw, wide at the cheekbones

Long: elongated, narrow, oval, rectangular

Triangular: angular, wide at the jaw, narrow at the forehead, inverted heart-shape

Oblong: elongated, rectangular, similar to oval but longer

Pear-shaped: narrow at the forehead, wide at the jaw and cheekbones, downward-pointing triangle

Rectangular: angular, defined, similar to oblong but more squared

Facial features

Cheeks: rosy, plump, gaunt, sunken, dimpled, flushed, pale, chubby, hollow

Chin: pointed, cleft, rounded, prominent, dimpled, double, weak, strong, square

Ear: large, small, delicate, flapped, pointed, rounded, lobeless, pierced

Eyes: deep-set, angled, bright, piercing, hooded, wide-set, close-set, beady, slanted, round, droopy, sleepy, sparkling

Forehead: high, broad, wrinkled, smooth, furrowed, low, narrow, receding

Jaw: strong, square, defined, angular, jutting, soft, weak, chiseled

Lips: full, thin, chapped, cracked, puckered, pursed, smiling, quivering, pouty

Mouth: wide, small, downturned, upturned, smiling, frowning, pouting, grimacing

Nose: hooked, straight, aquiline, button, long, short, broad, narrow, upturned, downturned, hooked, snub

Eyebrows: arched, bushy, thin, unkempt, groomed, straight, curved, knitted, furrowed, raised

Hair

Texture: curly, straight, wavy, frizzy, lank, greasy, voluminous, luxurious, tangled, silky, coarse, kinky

Length: long, short, shoulder-length, waist-length, neck-length, chin-length, buzzed, shaven

Style: styled, unkempt, messy, wild, sleek, smoothed, braided, ponytail, bun, dreadlocks

Color: blonde, brunette, red, black, gray, silver, salt-and-pepper, auburn, chestnut, golden, caramel

Volume: thick, thin, fine, full, limp, voluminous, sparse

Parting: center-parted, side-parted, combed, brushed, gelled, slicked back

Bangs: fringed, side-swept, blunt, wispy, thick, thin

Accessories: headband, scarf, barrettes, clips, pins, extensions, braids, ribbons, beads, feathers

Body

Build: slender, skinny, lean, athletic, toned, muscular, burly, stocky, rotund, plump, hefty, portly

Height: tall, short, petite, lanky, willowy, stocky, rotund

Posture: slouching, upright, hunched, stiff, relaxed, confident, nervous, slumped

Shape: hourglass, pear-shaped, apple-shaped, athletic, bulky, willowy, curvy

Muscles: defined, toned, prominent, ripped, flabby, soft

Fat distribution: chubby, plump, rounded, jiggly, wobbly, flabby, bloated, bloated

Body hair: hairy, smooth, shaven, beard, goatee, mustache, stubble

Weight: light, heavy, average, underweight, overweight, obese, lean, skinny

Body language: confident, nervous, aggressive, submissive, arrogant, timid, confident, relaxed

Body movements: graceful, clunky, fluid, awkward, jerky, smooth, agile, rigid

Build

Muscular: ripped, toned, defined, well-built, buff, brawny, burly, strapping

Athletic: fit, toned, agile, flexible, energetic, muscular, athletic, sporty

Thin: skinny, slender, slim, lanky, bony, gaunt, angular, wiry

Stocky: sturdy, broad-shouldered, compact, muscular, solid, robust, heavy-set

Overweight: plump, chubby, rotund, heavy, portly, corpulent, stout, fleshy

Fat: overweight, overweight, rotund, heavy, bloated, tubby, round, fat

Lean: lanky, slender, skinny, thin, wiry, willowy, spare, underweight

Larger: large, heavy, hefty, substantial, solid, overweight, portly, rotund

Skin

Texture: smooth, soft, silky, rough, bumpy, flaky, scaly, rough

Tone: fair, light, pale, dark, tan, olive, bronze, ruddy, rosy

Complexion: clear, radiant, glowing, dull, blotchy, sallow, ruddy, weathered

Wrinkles: deep, fine, lines, crow's feet, wrinkles, age spots

Marks: freckles, age spots, birthmarks, moles, scars, blemishes, discoloration

Tone: even, uneven, patchy, discolored, mottled, sunburned, windburned

Glow: luminous, radiant, healthy, dull, tired, lifeless

Tautness: taut, firm, loose, saggy, wrinkles, age spots, slack

Condition: healthy, glowing, radiant, dry, oily, acne-prone, sunburned, windburned

Style

Clothing: trendy, stylish, fashionable, outdated, classic, eclectic, casual, formal, conservative, bold, vibrant, plain, ornate

Fabric: silk, cotton, wool, leather, denim, lace, satin, velvet, suede, corduroy

Colors: bright, bold, pastel, neutral, vibrant, muted, monochrome

Accessories: jewelry, hats, glasses, belts, scarves, gloves, watches, necklaces, earrings, bracelets, rings

Shoes: sneakers, boots, sandals, heels, loafers, flats, pumps, oxfords, slippers

Grooming: well-groomed, unkempt, messy, clean-cut, scruffy, neat

Hair: styled, messy, curly, straight, braided, dreadlocks, afro, updo, ponytail

Makeup: natural, bold, minimal, heavy, smokey, colorful, neutral

Personal grooming: clean, fragrant, unkempt, well-groomed, grooming habits

Overall appearance: put-together, disheveled, polished, rough, messy, tidy

If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider buying me a coffee! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi! Become a member to receive exclusive content, early access, and prioritized writing prompt requests.

[angelicyouth]

Proscenium

⇢ pairing(s): multiple x newkid!reader

⇢ genre: identity reveal ; the stick of truth + the fractured but whole AU

⇢ synopsis: ❝The beginning of the new school year reveals to your friends that you were never a boy like they've always believed you to be, but a girl—and that you have been one the entire time that you've known them.❞

⇢ warning: recreational drug use

⇢ [AO3 link] ; [series masterlist]

⇢ note: this picks up years after the two video games that this AU takes place in (the flashbacks in this story are canon to the games) but can be read with no prior knowledge of them! :)

At thirteen years old, hormones slowly crept up into one’s life until puberty suddenly hit everyone all at once and all too fast. It was in the 8th grade that everyone came back from summer vacation different—what was once baby fat and ambiguous soft edges turned into more defined features and deeper voices. The appearance of girls altered in a way that could only be described as more developed, filling out in areas that they just didn’t used to.

Mr. Garrison decided that with this fresh transition into the beginning of their teenage years, that it would be a swell idea to teach his students about the notion of responsibility and of all the things that encompass it. This led to everyone sitting on the well-worn yet soft material of the fabric that adorns the chairs in the theater belonging to the town’s local middle school.

“Class, settle down now. I want all of you to know that before we begin, each and every one of you are talented. It may not be catered for the skills needed to succeed in theater, like singing or dancing. But don’t be ashamed of trying your best because I’ll find a job for every single one of you. Costume design, stagehand, the set—they’re just as important as the actors, you hear me?” The older man says in reassurance at his heightened stance on the wooden stage, looking at the sea of students that had varying degrees of uncertainty and excitement on their faces.

With these tentative first steps into their young adulthood, everyone was feeling lingering traces of insecurity and confusion. It was the start of the years where the children of South Park were trying to explore themselves as individuals—trying to find out who they are and where they truly belonged. 

As such, it was also the time where they often felt too ‘cool’ to try hard in order to fit in with the rest of their peers. Everyone just wanted to belong, to not be labeled as an outcast. This was driven by certain people being naturally blessed by mother nature, their hormones making them conventionally attractive whereas some were struggling with artificial things for societal standards such as the condition of their skin or the metal bulk of their braces. 

It was the awkward stage of life where people were more self conscious, more self aware of how they looked and how they spoke—who they hung out with and what their interests were. This was the beginning of when people started paying closer attention to their sexuality, to the genders of the members that each person found themselves attracted to. 

It was also the beginning of when the boys started paying closer attention to Y/N L/N.

See, you had always hung out with the boys, often forgoing the likes of Wendy Testaburger or Bebe Stevens. Not because you didn’t like the group of girls in class (because they were still your dear friends, never forgetting to extend a personal invite to you for lunch on the weekends or to trips to the mall), but more so because the guys had claimed you first. They’re all you’ve ever known since the fourth grade—from when you were still the new kid to now, they’ve always been a constant presence both during school and after. 

You were there when the boys decided to dedicate their free time to live action role-playing games, like superheroes or fantasy. During the nights that were spent finding scrap fabric to put together and painting props for when they donned their multicolored costumes and created super aliases. Or when the Kingdom of Kupa Keep was at war with The Elves for the wooden relic that once possessed the control of the whole entire universe.

The thing was, living in a mountain town like South Park meant that people typically adorned multiple, thick layers of material to help insulate themselves against the freezing temperatures. You, of course, weren’t an exception to the weather as you didn’t grow up here like the rest of your friends, which meant that you always kept either your hood up or wore a hat to keep yourself warm.

Granted, you didn’t find out until later on that your parents were actively trying to hide your identity from the government, but this inadvertently assisted in everyone misgendering you. It also didn’t help that you were silent in nature and therefore never bothered to correct anyone, but on the other hand, this earned you the fond nickname of ‘Douchebag’ and the boys never quite realizing that you were not a boy, but a girl.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

You were late for the first day of the school year, rushing to rip off all of the paper tags attached to the new clothing your mother bought for you when she realized how quickly you outgrew your wardrobe during the summer. Unsteadily hopping around on one foot with a toothbrush wedged into your mouth, you finally got a leg through the soft material of the skirt that you were going to wear for the day. 

Discreetly trying to open the heavy double doors leading to the school’s auditorium proves to be futile as everyone casts their bored eyes towards the disturbance at the back of the room. Keeping your head lowered in an attempt to stay hidden, your legs rush to bring your body to where your group of friends were sitting.

“Uh, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Cartman arrogantly calls out when your body lands onto an unoccupied seat near him, your eyes rolling as you lay your backpack on the floor beside your feet.

“Aye! I’m fucking talking to you!” The larger teen yells in indignation when you continue to ignore him, his face heating up in anger when the guys begin to snicker behind their hands.

Heaving his body up, Cartman leans closer to you to roughly yank the hood off of your head to identify the current bane of his existence. This, however, leads him to be swept in confusion as the rest of the guys similarly halt their vocal amusement. “Who the fuck..?”

“Y/N—are you here? You’re up next to audition.” Garrison calls out, the boys quickly whipping their heads when they see you haul your form up to begin your ascent to the stage.

“What the fuck are you doing?! N/N’s not some lame pussy bitch!”

A tired sigh resounds from the older teacher’s mouth because it was way too early to be dealing with this shit. “Eric, Y/N has been a girl for the past four years that she’s been living in South Park. Nothing has changed except for your attention to details.”

“Wh—no he isn’t!” He sputters.

The guys stare at you in varying levels of disbelief and confusion, watching as you tuck visibly soft strands of hair behind your ear while Mr. Garrison passes you a script. Not only are you wearing a damn skirt (which the boys greedily eye as they showcase your long and smooth legs), but your jacket is unzipped for the first time that they’ve met you (in your haste to get ready, your scrambled brain forgot to properly zip it all the way up).

Due to this, they could see the way that the fabric of your top hugs your developing curves in all of the right places—cinching the delicate slopes of your waist and allowing them to see the growing but still notable bust that your outerwear has never revealed. It is then that their admittedly slow brains catches them up on the long lashes that gently kisses the red skin of your still cold cheeks everytime that you blink and how under the fluorescents of the stage lights, the pretty pink of your plump lips are further accentuated to slicked perfection.

“... Douchebag..?” Butters hesitatingly calls out, his voice meek in the sudden revelation of information on their long-time friend.

Busy reading the ink running along the script within your hands, the boys become shocked to muteness when your head lifts up in attention to the sound of your nickname. Your head tilts to the side in question when no one speaks, your disinterested eyes patiently waiting for the verbal reason that they called you. 

“No fucking way.” They all seem to chorus because…

… When in the hell did the notoriously mute member of their group become so hot?

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

“I call dibs!” Clyde yells out as soon as the boys step just one foot onto the cold linoleum that covers the hallway’s floors when the last class before the lunch period is dismissed.

“Wh—you can’t fucking do that!” Kenny indignantly cries out, the blonde angrily pushing his parka’s hood back so that he can properly argue. 

“Yeah, I can! Wanna know why?” The brunette smugly continues, his arms crossed in self satisfaction for speaking up first as all the guys glare at him.

“Well, I’m super handsome and insanely funny! I play sports so my hot bod is just as amazing as my smile and I’m clearly so generous and kind and nice since I’m giving you assholes multiple reasons instead of one!” He childishly finishes off, a cheeky grin stretching wide on his face even as Kenny grabs him by the collars of his letterman jacket to roughly slam him against the metal surface of the nearest locker.

“What?!” The blonde screams into his face in frustration.

“That’s fucking lame, dude. If you think N/N is going to settle for some shallow, narcissistic asshole then there’s no point of claiming her first.” Stan angrily spits out, the skin in between his eyebrows furrowed and his fingers fidgeting with the spark wheel of his lighter as he lazily leans beside where Clyde and Kenny are trying to throttle each other.

“Says the self proclaimed rizzler who gets an upset twummy wummy when a cute girl so much as looks in your direction, barf breath.” Kenny mocks in a baby voice, the blonde halting in his attempted murder as his brunette victim begins to obnoxiously laugh at his quip.

“Oh gee fellas… Well if it’s first come first serve, then I guess I’ll be getting this one. See ya!” Butters quickly tries to walk away from the group before Craig grabs him by the neckline of his sweater, effectively choking the blonde until he stops.

“And how the hell does that make any sense?” The taller ravenette asks, an eyebrow condescendingly quirked up and his fist unwillingly to let go lest the blonde tries to pull a fast one again.

“Wuh—well because! I’m the first person that met her, don’tcha fellers remember? I was the one to bring her to Kupa Keep when she first moved in so I’m her oldest and dearest buddy!” Everyone stops walking as they display unamused looks on their faces at the explanation, causing the captured teen to nervously rub his knuckles together at their joined silence. 

Kyle rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, “Yeah—by like, 5 minutes! And I don’t think you should be proud of that encounter because you were getting your ass handed to you when she met you.”

“And what’s wrong with that? N/N is strong and fearless and kind—why, she’s simply a bajillion times more noble for rescuing me when she didn’t even know me! That’s more than you fellas with your constant teasing, and you’ve all known me since we were babies!” The blonde pouts as he soothingly rubs the front of his now tender neck when Craig finally lets go.

Cartman deeply sighs, bringing a hand up to smooth the crease in between his eyebrows. “Just shut the fuck up, Butters. Y/N’s not here for you to suck her apparently non-existent dick, you fucking kiss ass.”

“You guys are acting like a bunch of stupid virgins.” Craig is expressionless as they reach the back of the school where the loading bay is, the chullo-wearing teen leaning against the wall as he leisurely watches Kenny plop down on the asphalt and pull a bong out of his backpack.

“Says you! Why do you even care?! I thought you liked it up the ass, you goddamn cocksucker!” Cartman is quick to yell, shoving both his hands in his jacket’s pockets to generate more warmth against the freezing Colorado air.

“Nyah! We like girls, t-too!” Tweek says, glancing at his ex-boyfriend as the ravenette flashes a vulgar middle finger that he annoyingly sticks into the larger teen's irritated face.

“Now that’s just fucking greedy.” The brunette scoffs, roughly pushing Craig’s arm away as the ravenette savagely snickers.

“That’s rich coming from the selfish fatass who can eat three times his weight in one sitting. Wouldn’t want N/N to suffocate on a date with you when you can’t see her over your huge fucking double chin and accidentally sit on her.” Kyle snarks as he rolls his eyes while Stan wheezes and mimics having a makeshift double chin by angling his head as low as it can against his collarbones to make the skin bulge.

Cartman loudly retorts as he roughly pushes away the ravenette’s laughing face, “It’s funny you say that when you have a fat bitch mom yourself, Kahl! Tell me: did she keep pushing even when you were already out of her gaping pussy because she couldn’t see you over her saggy fucking tits?!”

“All of you are greedy assholes! You guys can’t be good bros just this once and let me have this one?” Clyde pouts, the brunette sliding his back down against the wall until he’s seated on top of the gritty surface of his skateboard.

“No.” Everyone simultaneously deadpans.

“Blah blah blah—okay, now who wants to say grace before I light this baby up?” Kenny smirks up at the guys as he packs a bowl, Stan snorting a laugh as he pushes the blonde on the arm when he hands him his lighter.

“You know, it doesn’t really matter who calls dibs when it’s Y/N who gets to decide who she wants to be with. You can’t force her into anything just because we’ve found out that she’s been a girl this whole entire time. She’s not an object for us to claim.” Kyle resolutely states when it doesn’t seem like a decision will be (peacefully) made, causing the redhead to resort to logic and sense.

“He’s got a point.” Tolkien mutters, the only one not fighting over you as he texts his long-time girlfriend Nichole Daniels.

“Oh, shut the hell up with your unicorns and rainbows pussy talk, you stupid fucking Jew! You’re only saying that sappy shit because you know that she won’t pick you even if you did get dibs!” Cartman retorts before dramatically pinching his nose when Kenny rips the bong and obnoxiously exhales the smoke into the brunette’s face.

“Aw, sick! Your low quality shit stinks!”

“Mmm, I think that’s just your upper lip that you’re smelling, fat boy. You do know that if you’re not properly dusting the crumbs off of your greasy mouth after every meal, the food will eventually go bad and rot.” The blonde lazily grins as he hands Craig the bong.

“Look, all I’m saying is that it’d be best to just give her to me. Isn’t it less embarrassing for you guys if Y/N chooses me because I have dibs as opposed to her rejecting all of you, only to still like me because you’re all just ugly and boring?” Clyde pouts up at the guys, his body swaying from side to side as he rolls his skateboard in one place.

“Sorry Donovan—but I’m not letting a fine piece of ass like Y/N go without a fight, even if I have to fight a bro for her.” Kenny says as he leisurely watches Stan cough after taking a fat rip from the smoking device.

“Didn’t think you were the type to work for it, McWhoredick. With all the easy people you usually go for on the daily, I don’t think it’d be cool for you to just hit it and quit it like you usually do.” Craig straightens up from his previously laid back slouch against the wall, his clenched jaw slightly lifting up as he looks down at Kenny from his heightened stance.

The blonde takes that as a challenge as he stands up from the floor, his hands quick to shoot out and roughly shove at the ravenette. “You’re a fucking bastard, you know that? Fuck you. I wouldn’t do that shit to Y/N.” 

A hand grabs the material of Kenny’s parka at his elbow to stop the altercation from escalating even further, Tweek’s other hand tightly clutching onto the buttons of his top in anxiety. “I-I don’t know, dude… She’s our best friend, you know? That’d be really fucked up.” 

Kenny rips his arm away from the other blonde and eyes every single person in the group with no trace of his usual carefree stance. “Seriously? Well I think it’s fucked up that you guys suddenly have feelings for her just because it’s been revealed that she’s actually a girl.” 

And when no one says anything, the blonde scoffs. “I’ve always flirted with her since we were kids. Sure, I might have covered it up by passing it off as a lighthearted joke so that she couldn’t outright reject me, but it doesn’t make whatever I said to her less true.”

Kenny continues, “And I may be a ���whore’ but I’m not a messy bitch who’d carelessly do shit like that with someone in our own damn friend group, especially to someone who means so much to me like Y/N. But let it be known: I was always transparent with how I felt and how cute I thought she was even when I thought she was a boy.”

And he was right—your earliest memories of being new in South Park were, naturally, of meeting new people. And when you talked to Karen McCormick for the first time during a day of playing your group’s fantasy game, she had told you right off the bat:

“Oh, hey! You’re the new kid! My sister, the princess, texted me about you. She thinks you’re cute.”

“That’s… That isn’t true.” Stan hesitantly speaks up once the silence seemed to stretch on.

The area of skin between his eyebrows are furrowed as he looks away from the group to avoid looking at anyone's reaction to his words. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket and his teeth lightly nips away at his bottom lip in notable distress.

Kyle is visibly surprised at this revelation, “…Stan?” 

The ravenette still doesn’t look over at his best friend or at anyone in the group, deeming the sight of the school’s janitor emptying out the trash a more interesting sight as he continues, “I uh—there was a time when I felt guilty. I thought I only liked girls but then I started seeing Y/N differently. It freaked me out because I was always into Wendy, y’know?” 

Stan nervously mumbles, “I don’t know when it happened or how, but it was like I suddenly started noticing everything she did. My eyes kept automatically looking for her: to see her reaction when someone said or did something—if I could catch a glimpse of her rare smile or hear her quiet laughter. Even if there was nothing to see, I just liked to know that she was there and that she was okay.” 

“No, I… I get it. Me too, actually.” Now it’s Stan’s turn to look shocked when he finally looks over at Kyle, the redhead sporting a madly growing blush as his hand shyly rubs the back of his neck at his confession. 

“What?! Yeah, right! Quit dickriding by copying your little boyfriend just to make him jealous!” Cartman yells out in disbelief. 

“Shut the fuck up! It was…,” Kyle takes a moment to carefully think of the right term to eloquently express his feelings. “Confusing, right?”

He feels somewhat relieved and comforted when Stan silently nods in agreement, the gesture reassuring him and validating his experience as he feels more encouraged to speak up. “I didn’t know if the lines between platonic and romantic feelings were beginning to blur. I couldn’t tell if I was just mixing them up together or something but after some time, I figured that it didn’t matter because it was Y/N. And so, I was just satisfied as long as I had her by my side, even if it was as a friend.”

It’s quiet for a moment as everyone thinks to themselves, the air somber with only the sounds of the janitor rolling away the trash can being heard as he walks back into the warmth of the school building. The double door loudly closes behind him, blocking out the noise of students inside talking as silence once again pervades the area.

“Well, all this talk about feelings and shit is amazing and not in the least bit boring but I’ve never been confused with how I felt since I already knew I swung both ways. I’m only doing something about it now because you fuckers are going to go for her and like hell am I just going to let that happen without trying.” Craig interrupts, his eyes lingering on Tweek to let him know that he wasn’t afraid to make his ex his rival in this endeavor either.

“Yeah, cause we all know she’s only going to settle for one of you poor bastards if her first choice isn’t pursuing her.” Clyde boasts, his chest proudly puffed out as he points one of his thumbs at his smiling visage to indicate that he was the aforementioned 'first choice'.

Craig snickers at his unbridled confidence as he shoves the brunette and leans over to snatch the glass bong out of Stan’s hands to take another hit. As he lights the bowl, Kenny pushes the taller teen’s face away to inhale the smoke instead.

Cartman scoffs as he snarks the group, “You guys are a bunch of fucking simps. Did your feelings make all of you lame-o pussies? Or did all of your periods somehow sync up today?” 

“Some friends we are—we never even noticed such a big thing about someone we claim to fucking like.” Stan bitterly laughs, forcing the guys to remember the small comments they ignorantly made to you when you were still kids:

Cartman: You know, you have kind of pretty hair for a boy. You better not be a hippie or something.

Jimmy: I thought feminine-looking guys went out of style in the 80’s, but the new kids pulling it off.

Clyde: You kind of have big raisins for a boy, New Kid.

Scott: I’ve never seen a boy with such soft skin, what’s your secret?

Butters: Hey, Butthole. Anyone tell you for a boy you’re kinda pretty?

Kenny: You kind of remind me of my sister—I have this weird urge to protect you.

Stan: You know, for a boy you’re kind of feminine New Kid.

Kyle: There’s nothing wrong with a boy being feminine, be true to yourself.

“How are you guys so sure that she even likes boys? You were wrong about her gender and you could be wrong about this too.” Wendy slyly says to the pondering group as she passes by, Bebe giggling at her companion’s words as the boys snap out of their reminiscing.

Before they walk away too far, the female blonde decides to further antagonize the guys as she sticks out a tongue at them. “Didn’t ya know? Wendy knew that Y/N was a girl since the day that she moved in and you stupid boys didn’t!”

Cartman’s mouth drops open as everyone watches the two walk away in disbelief, “That fucking bitch.”

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

“Sorry for keeping you from lunch, Douchebag! Ah, my bad. Can I still call you that or..?” Scott Malkinson says as he blushes in embarrassment (and for seeing the entirety of your newly revealed face up close for the first time), his hand going up to rub at the brown tufts of hair at the back of his head.

“I mean, no problem if you’re not comfortable with it or have always disliked it! You probably wouldn’t want to go by Buttlord and stuff anymore too…” He nervously mumbles to himself.

You just offer a small nod as your eyes soften around the edges, your hands busy with stapling the packet of papers holding the directions for your two-person research essay for your science class before handing it to him. There didn’t seem to be a point in pulling up your hood anymore (reminiscent of the way Kenny often did) when the boys finally figured out you were a girl.

Zipping open his backpack, you patiently watch as Scott tucks away the report’s instructions for safekeeping in a folder before he offers you a bashful smile. He softly knocks a fist into your arm, “Hey. I really am sorry for misgendering you this whole time. Girl or boy, you’ll always be my trusty sidekick. Right, superpal?”

“Woah there, Malkinson! You’re not tryna pull a fast one on our girl when we aren’t looking, are ya?” Your attention shifts at the sound of Clyde’s voice, an arm being thrown over your shoulders as he protectively pushes you against his body. “You sly dog, you!”

From your peripherals, you see the other guys walking to catch up to where you are as Stan locks an arm around your science partner's neck to put him into a headlock and roughly tousle his hair. You disinterestedly look away when Kenny comes up to you with a wide smile, the blonde reaching an arm out to dap you up in greeting as per usual.

However, instead of stepping back after your half hug, he pulls on your interlocked hands to take you out of Clyde’s clutches and keeps you against his chest. Kenny’s larger hands slowly settles themselves against the curves of your waist as he presses his smile against the column of your neck.

“Missed me, beautiful?” He says, his lips evoking a cacophony of goosebumps as they ever so slightly skim against the soft expanse of your skin after every word.

“Knock it off, bastard. She doesn’t need your rank breath and your dirty hands on her.” Craig angrily mutters out as he pulls you away, only for a pair of arms to sneak around your waist from behind before someone’s chin plants itself onto one of your shoulders.

Kenny scoffs, obnoxiously trying to put said hands onto the taller ravenette’s face. “Your poor people stereotypes don’t do anything to hurt me, Craigory baby!”

Your face is as expressionless as always as you turn to identify your newest captor, a pout on Butters’ face. “That’s not fair Ken, and you know it!”

“Hey, you assholes said it yourselves: I’m always like this. So I’m not quite sure what you’re accusing me of, Butters. Unless you’re projecting your own ulterior motives onto lil’ old me?” Kenny has a lazy smile on his attractive face as he crosses his arms behind his head.

You don’t get to lean your body into Butters’ hold for too long before you feel someone’s hand sneak into the crook of your arm, trying to pull you out of your surrounding warmth. When you see that it’s Tweek fidgeting by your side, you place a reassuring hand on his own as you assume that his anxieties are getting out of control and needed comfort.

“Ngh! Y-you all need to leave her alone!” He yells, swiftly turning over his hand so that he can interlock your fingers together.

“Don’t be nice to him, Douchebag! He’s just faking it so that you’ll feel bad! The whole ‘liking it up the ass’ thing? It was all a FUCKING ACT!” Cartman indignantly shouts as he tries to separate your hands from each other, the blonde barista trying his hardest to not let go.

“Fuck you, ack! It just d-didn’t work out between us!” Tweek defends himself as he tries to bite the brunette’s unrelenting hands off.

“I can see why! Neither one of you have pussies. As I said already: you’re a bunch of fake homos who did it for money and attention!” Cartman yells before he loudly yelps from the blonde’s teeth finally breaking through his skin.

“Sick, dude. You might want to get tested for HIV… Or rabies.” Kyle grimaces as he watches Tweek hurriedly spit into the nearest trash can.

“And don’t be an ignorant piece of shit, fatass. You can still be a girl and not have a vagina.” The redhead continues while crossing his arms. 

“Meh meh meh.” Cartman mocks in a high pitched voice to which Kyle just stares back unamused, “Shut the fuck up, god! You’re talking to someone who was fucking transginger before! Of course I fucking know that! And have some goddamn tact next time, asshole—I was going through a lot of shit so it was a dark time for me back then!”

"Wh—You brought up you being transgender yourself, dumbass!"

Tolkien tiredly sighs at everything going on before handing Tweek his hydro flask to gargle its contents, a frenzied mantra of oh god’s being repeated between mouthfuls of water. He soothingly pats the blonde on the back as the barista bends over, hysterically heaving in panic while Kenny watches and cackles in amusement.

“Yeah, Y/N. You have an unnatural allegiance to losers.” Stan side eyes the two as he finally lets go of Scott, the brunette yelling out hasty goodbyes in order to escape the apparent arguing and to fix his messed up hair.

“Which is exactly why she keeps you around, Stanley.” Craig is quick to snark while he roughly pulls Cartman away from trying to get even with Tweek.

“Not true!” He yells.

Craig stares blankly at the protesting ravenette, “Uh-huh… Staniel, tell me: what medications are you on again?” 

“For my depression? Uhh, Lexapro. I think. Why?”

“I think they need to switch you to the stronger shit or rediagnose you because right now, you’re being fucking delusional. We smoked the same shit just now so I know it’s not whatever strain Kenny has that’s fucking you up.” Craig dismisses, using his height to his advantage as he condescendingly pats Stan hard on the back of his neck and causes him to stumble.

“Oh fuck you—“

Kenny impatiently interrupts, the blonde pulling you away. “As much as I love me some fucking, let’s just go to lunch already! You guys can bitch all you want in the cafeteria—I’m hungry!”

“You’re always hungry though, poor ass.” Cartman mumbles as everyone starts to move.

“Fuck you, I’m stoned.”

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

The lunch room is as noisy as ever from where you stand, your disinterested eyes looking around while your arms get recklessly tugged back and forth. You don’t pay any mind to the curious stares of any passerby and those sitting near your standing position as you’ve already grown used to the unwarranted attention your friends always seem to attract from their antics.

“N/N is sitting with me!” Clyde yells out to which the brunette emphasizes with a pull on the arm of yours that he's tightly hugging to his chest.

“She sat next to you yesterday when we went out and got pizza for lunch, you greedy asshole!” Kenny argues back as he resolutely plants his feet against the cafeteria floor, not budging from where your hands are intertwined.

“Not fair—I haven’t sat next to my buddy all week when we've eaten.” Butters pouts from where he stands in front of you as his hands grab hold of your jacket and his fingers mindlessly fiddles with the zipper of it.

With one last tug, Kenny guides you over to the group's designated table before the other two can react and offers a solution. “Here: my princess can just sit on my lap so that the both of you crybabies can still sit next to her.” 

The blonde demonstrates by settling you over his thighs before he tightly locks his arms around your waist, sending a cheeky smile over your shoulder at the flabbergasted blonde and brunette still standing up. “There! Problem solved. Fuck, I’m a genius.” 

Kyle rolls his eyes as he takes your tray of food in his unoccupied hand and places it on the table between his own and Stan’s, causing Kenny to pout when you stand up to sit where your lunch is. Once sat, you watch as the ushanka-wearing teen opens up the plastic holding your utensils before he hands you your spork.

“Y/N.” You blankly turn your head away from your food to face Clyde.

The brunette leans over the table to wipe a smidge of sauce that was left on your face with his thumb, his finger lingering at the edge of your lips. “You got something on your pretty face.”

Your eyes dart towards his finger when he pulls away to show you the hint of food he wiped off before you lean forward to lick it off of his finger for him. Clyde’s grin stretches impossibly wide across his face at your welcomed action, both of his elbows planting themselves on top of the table that he was still laying his stomach over as he cups his cheeks with his hands and brings his legs up to delightedly kick them back and forth like a lovesick schoolgirl. 

“Fucking knock it off, Clyde!” The brunette yelps out of his daze when Craig grabs one of his swinging feet to roughly yank him off of the table.

“Dude.” Stan forlornly stares at his knocked over can of soda, the carbonated liquid thankfully spilling onto the floor and not on anyone’s clothes.

“You’re a fucking try-hard, you know that?!” Cartman yells as he fumbles to catch his opened pack of snacky cakes before they fall onto the dirty cafeteria floor from the other brunette’s actions.

Clyde is unable to verbally defend himself against the larger teen as he tries to hold his hand as close to his chest as possible while fending off Kenny with the other. While he gently cradles his appendage to his body, the blonde tries to get the prized finger to himself for a chance at an indirect kiss. 

“Talk about desperate. You beg for sex like you beg for food, McCormick.” Craig mumbles as everyone watches the fighting pair in a mixture of disgust and disappointment. 

“Wuh-what’s going on, fellas?” Jimmy asks as he takes a seat besides a stressed out Tolkien, the teen irritatedly rubbing his temples with his eyes closed to soothe the quickly growing headache he was developing. 

“Jimmy! Finally, someone sane. I’m going crazy—they keep fighting over Y/N.”

“Competition? F-f-for what? They say girls love someone funny and I’ve already made Y/N laugh the most in the past!” The brunette proudly boasts before Tolkien bemoans the loss of who he thought was his only ally.

It's only the first day of school, the wealthy teen thinks to himself in dread as he begins to wonder if he should start sitting with Timmy instead.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

Taking a sip of your chilled juice makes you slightly shiver, causing Stan to notice from his close proximity to you. Dusting off his hands together to take away any remnants of crumbs leftover from his brownie, the ravenette reaches over to zip your jacket up after he deems his hands clean enough to not leave a stain.

From the next seat over, Craig notices the interaction and what caused it so he takes it upon himself to place his beloved chullo on the top of your head. He reaches across from the front of Stan’s chest and in result, roughly pushes him away (he almost falls ass first out of the bench he's sitting on) as he takes care to ensure that both of your ears are properly covered.

The taller teen simply smirks when the ravenette glares at him for one-upping him—Craig’s hat providing additional warmth and even displaying a mark of possession that simply zipping up your outerwear couldn’t provide for other students to see. Their silent but heated stare-off gets interrupted when someone uses the earflaps from Craig’s chullo to forcibly turn your head to another direction.

“Douchebag, come over to mine after school. My mom got me that new video game we were talking about last week and you’d be a stupid loser to not be one of the first people in town to play it.” Cartman demands after he lets go of the soft material to resume devouring his lunch.

“No can do, fatfuck. Y/N already promised to go to my house so that we can do homework together.” Kyle interrupts with a self-satisfied grin on his face that only serves to make the brunette loudly slam his hands on the surface of the table in anger.

“Ooo, group study session at Kyle’s house after school?” Butters perks up at his own suggestion, an innocent grin adorning his face as he looks at everyone at the table for confirmation. 

“Fuck you, I didn’t invite any of you bastards over except for her.”

“Ditch them, babe—Karen misses you! Why don’t you come over to my house instead so you can visit her?” Kenny jumps at the opportunity to speak up first after Kyle’s dismissal over Butters' self-invitation.

The boys see you visibly perk up as you straighten your back at the mention of the blonde’s younger sister, making Craig furrow his eyebrows together. “Fuck off. If there’s anyone that Y/N wants to see the most, it’s Stripe.”

Stan immediately scoffs as he pushes around his vegetables with his spork, the ravenette mumbling under his breath as his chin rests on his open palm. “I mean, at least he’s not using his own sibling as a cheap way to get her to visit. Not like I can do the same when I only have a bitch older sister at home.”

“Oh! How about a pet play date then! I can bring Rex!” Clyde excitedly contributes to Craig’s words, only for the ravenette to glare at him when they make eye contact.

"Wait, then I can bring Sparky—"

Kyle interrupts Stan before the conversation can escalate even further, “No! I already told my ma that Y/N is coming over so she’s making extra dinner.” 

“Then there’s enough food for all of us to come over tonight.” Cartman says around a mouthful of chicken with an air of finality.

“That’d add another 30 servings on just you alone. So no, fatass, there isn’t enough food for you in my house or even in the whole entire goddamn grocery store that can satisfy the endless void that’s your fucking stomach.” Kyle argues back as his face contorts in disgust at the brunette’s lack of decorum at the lunch table, his hands quickly shooting out to shield both his and your lunch from any spit or stray bits of food.

“Aye!”

You patiently wait for him to take his hand away from where it’s hovering protectively over your tray but as you do, you get distracted from their bickering when Butters holds out a spoonful of his fruit cup. “Here, little buddy! I know how much you like this combination.”

Your eyes soften around the edges in thanks as you lean forward to eat it directly out of his spork, the blonde’s hand kindly waiting for you to chew before he pulls the utensil away and continues to eat his snack. 

“Ack!” Tweek hurriedly fumbles to pour out a cup of still-warm coffee from his metal tumbler, his eyebrows furrowing in intense concentration as he tries to reign in his shaking hands to bring the portable cup up to your face for a sip without spilling.

Clyde watches in disbelief as you bring your body as close as you can from your seat at the table to drink the blonde’s offering, causing him to hurry with sticking a cheesy poof halfway into his mouth. “Here, N/N! Have some of this!”

Kyle’s eyes widen when he sees you starting to lean your face forward in the brunette’s direction, his hands shooting out to stop you from moving any further to give the brunette an opportunity for a kiss. “Y/N! No, goddammit!”

You blankly stare at the teen for interrupting before something moves in your peripherals, your eyes darting to the side to see Craig patiently holding out a chip towards you. As you turn your body towards his, he pulls it away from your face at the very last second.

“Sit next to me in class and I’ll give you a piece.” He smirks when you nod before taking a bite of the proffered snack out of his hand.

Kenny overhears and bitterly tsk’s to himself before placing a hand across the table with his palm facing up, his fingers wiggling as he also attempts to gain your favor through food. Your head cocks to the side at the action before you obediently place your hand on top of his, the blonde interlocking your fingers together as he brightly smiles at his success.

“Good girl.” He gently coos at you as he feeds you a piece of his cookie, his cerulean orbs watching you in endearment when you chew the dessert before he gives your linked appendages a soft squeeze. 

Once eaten, the blonde uses his now unoccupied hand to pet the top of your head to which Stan sneers at. “Quit it, dude. She’s not one of your pet rats for you to coddle.”

“And what about me?! You fuckers never share any food whenever I ask!” Cartman slams both of his hands down onto the surface of the table (again), causing all of its seated occupants to roll their eyes as they settle their rattling cans of soda and water bottles from tipping over.

“You’re spouting bullshit—I’ve offered you food before.” Craig disinterestedly says as he takes the rest of Kenny’s cookie to prevent him from feeding you again and shoves it all in his mouth in one go.

“Only when you’ve dropped it on purpose and told me to eat it from the fucking floor if I wanted it so badly, you bastard!”

The ravenette merely shrugs, not seeing a fault in his actions as he pushes away the raging blonde trying to punch him. “Same thing. Bitches can’t be choosers or however that saying goes.”

At his words, the edges of your lips unconsciously quirk up into a small smile. It’s like Hell freezes over as everyone stops whatever they’re doing to get a glimpse of a sight so rare to see from your usually blank face.

“Quick! Take a picture! Take a fucking picture!” Clyde yelps at Kenny's demand as his hands fumble in their haste to rip his cellphone out of his jacket’s pocket.

You wonder to yourself why you’ve maintained the façade of being a boy when the dangers of the government trying to find you stopped being a threat so long ago. Maybe, you’ve unconsciously been trying to continue the lie because the person everyone thought you were when you were the "male Y/N" was the one that your friends already found themselves loving and enjoyed being around.

And who would take such a risky chance at changing such a beautiful thing like the precious friendship that this dysfunctional group of boys brought you?

But with the way that everyone is acting after the initial nerve-racking reveal of your true identity from this morning, you find it silly that you ever thought for a second that you might have disappointed your friends with who you really were. Because right now, as you see everyone around the table watching you with eyes that look at you as if you held the whole entire universe in just the palm of your small hands, you let yourself know that there was nothing to ever worry about.

At this thought, your smile slowly widens until a full set of pearly white teeth makes their appearance and a beautiful hue of pink paints the apples of your cheeks. This seemingly knocks any incoming words from leaving the boy's mouths as they watch in stunned silence. 

You giggle over the din of chattering students in the cafeteria, causing the guys to lean even closer than before to hear the melodic sound of your rare laughter. “It’s beggars can’t be choosers, dumbfuck.”

a/n: ((i truly tried writing jimmy as a love interest because duh, it's not team craig without him!! but for the life of me, i cannot write him in fics & i really don't know why **sobs**))

[ceoofglytchell]

Butterfly

Summary: That fateful night on Driftmark Aegon has made a promise to you, one that he has even once never forgotten, while you were gone. However now six years later you return to him and- gods be good- he is going to make that promise a reality and he most certainly won't let you leave him another time.

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Strong!Niece!Reader

Word count: 4214 words

Warnings: incest, Reader is described of having Strong like features, Reader is Rhaenyra's and Harwin's second child, fluff, angst, longing, thoughts of major dubcon (it’s only a thought and does not really happen), kinda miscommunication, hurt/comfort, allusions to smut, aegon being miserable, no mention of Y/N

Notes: I was not feeling good last week, but I am back now with this piece here, but I’m not sure if it’s good. But, as always, feedback and criticism is always appreciated and please remember that english is not my native language. Enjoy 💛

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"I promise that one day I will marry you."

Never once in your life have you forgotten the promise that your uncle Aegon had given you six years ago on the shores of Driftmark. Yes, he was drunk, and yes, he knew that your families would never let a union between the two of you come to be, but a boy could dream. At least that was how he had justified the vow later on when you had to separate the following morning.

You have always wished that your beloved uncle would fulfill his very promise one day, but unfortunately the chance got slimmer and slimmer the more years passed and the more protective your mother has gotten over you, because as Rhaenyra's first and only daughter nothing was easy.

You were born with brown curls and hazel eyes like your brothers, making the sin your mother had committed all the more obvious to anyone else, a walking reminder of her carelessness. However you were born much smaller in comparison to your brothers and even as you grew you remained petite and delicately looking, which caused Rhaenyra to fuss over you like a mother hen constantly, as if she feared you to be a porcelain doll that could shatter into a million pieces with just a touch. She certainly treated you this way.

Aegon however has always seen the watchful eyes and silent warning glances of his half-sister to be more of a challenge than an actual prohibition.

The prince had always been enamored with you, his little niece, but he has always bottled up all his hidden feelings for you within himself so it was only natural that one time where he had swallowed down cup after cup of dornish wine and you sat by him and held his hand after he had been scolded by his grandsire, the words spilled out of his mouth like a river.

He had barely been able to remember it the next morning, but as he saw the flush on your cheeks when he stood before you to say his goodbyes, he knew that you knew. It was either a curse or a blessing, but even as he had watched you leave with your mother, brothers, and a few of the servants, he had known that he would see you again one day and if he did, he would take you as his wife.

You were not sure what you had imagined when you and your family returned to King’s Landing after so many years to assure yourselves that Lucery's claim to the island of Driftmark was defined and would not be contested, but no matter how easy this task seemed to be on the first look, you quickly learned that this was not the case. Vaemond Velaryon and your great-aunt Rhaenys had also come.

However, their presence brought you less out of the concept than to see Aemond beating Ser Criston during sparring on the courtyard as if the man was nothing but a normal knight and not a loyal and trusted member of the King’s Guard. His cold look, when he had seen you and your brothers, made a shiver run down your back and a spark of fear set its roots within yourself, even if you had nothing to do with the tragic loss of his eye.

On that dark night you were with Aegon when it had happened. The older prince had drunken too many cups of wine and stumbled down the stairs that led down to the beach and hit his head. You had sat with him afterwards and watched over him, while he had clung to you as if you were the very last thing that kept him rooted to this world and that kept him from loosing himself to the darkness within his heart.

And then he had given you that promise. That one terrible promise that has been on your mind every single day, which had taken a special place in the depths of your heart. He had promised to marry you and you knew that he would do it, if you would get permission, which you doubted, however, because your mother wanted nothing to do with her half-siblings whatsoever.

You were reminded of said promise when you faced him again in the throne room after six long years; He and his family dressed in Hightower green and gold and you with yours in Targaryen red and black. The difference could not be greater and the tension that lay in the hall could be felt by everyone.

You tried to stick to your mother's words, you really did, but over and over again your warm gaze found his and every time you caught him staring right back at you, an unknown glimmer in his amethyst colored eyes, which you neither could nor wanted to explain.

However, things escalated quickly and your mother quickly pulled you out of the throne room by the arm, leaving the headless body of Vaemond Velaryon behind on the cold stone floor, for which your stepfather was responsible, the word 'bastards' echoing in your ears. It was not easy to be confronted with the truth after all these years, which your mother tried to hide so convulsively, although it was obviously in everyone's eyes and the entire realm knew the truth of your parentage.

Your shocked eyes found those from Aegon before you vanished behind the doors and you immediately knew that this was not the last time you would see him that evening- and you were right.

Your maids, who were also some of your closest friends at the same time, were currently dressing you for dinner when it suddenly knocked on the heavy wooden doors to your chambers, which still looked exactly the same before you had been forced to leave back then. Without having allowed him to come inside, Aegon stepped into the privacy of your old chambers, which were illuminated with flickering candles, whereupon the servants stopped tugging uncomfortably on your hair and stepped away from you, bowing their heads as was custom.

"You may leave us," you told the other women, whereupon they all looked at you with a questioning frown.

"But princess-" "Please, I can do it."

Neither you nor the maids knew really whether you meant your hair or the prince who stared at you without having lost a word so far, which was extremely untypical for your uncle. However, the cup of wine in his right hand was familiar and you immediately became painfully aware of how much you had missed him.

The moment the doors fell shut again and you both were alone in the room and actually stood in front of each other for the first time again in six years, a bright grin broke out on his face and he slowly took a few steps to get closer to you. "Welcome home, little butterfly."

You didn't know exactly what it was; the nickname, his voice, which had matured, or the fact that you finally looked at him again after such a long time, but you couldn't help but close the distance between you two and jump right into his arms.

Aegon was surprised for a brief moment, but he immediately returned your gesture and wrapped his arms around you as well and pressed your slender body tightly against his, burying his nose into your long brown curls, which were half put together into a braid, which was not finished, because you had sent your handmaidens out of the room as soon as you had laid your eyes on him.

He could hear how a quiet, content sigh escaped your lips, whereupon he felt himself relax in your embrace and he felt his grip around his golden cup of wine loosen slightly as if you were the sole cure for the addiction he had developed. After all these years and although you both have grown and changed, you still fit perfectly against him like the last piece of a puzzle that had finally found its rightful place.

"You cut your hair," you noticed with an audible smile in your gentle voice and you immediately snuggled closer to him as if the sole thought of being parted from him for a second time was unthinkable for you.

"And you have grown- if only a little."

You hit him playfully against his shoulder and leaned back a little so that you could look him into his lilac eyes, which you noticed no longer held the same glint as they had back then. In addition, deep dark circles under his eyes adorned his handsome face and he had become even paler, which was why you feared that you needed to worry about his health. He also looked very much tired. However, these little details did not change the fact that the man in front of you was as beautiful as he had been back then if not more.

"Still feisty, I see, butterfly."

"You did not forget it," you noticed with an almost melancholic smile on your rosy lips. Ever since you were children and a small white butterfly had landed on your head in the Godswood, which would happen two or three times more over time, he called you by the name of the animal, since you were probably just as fragile and delicate, you mused. At the beginning you did not really enjoy it, but over time you wanted to hear him say it over and over again- now too.

"Of course not. I would never forget you, my darling."

"Stop it." You looked down onto the ground so that he would not see the obvious blush on your cheeks, but he did regardless. As for you, he paid attention to everything, every little detail.

"I did not forget my promise to you either." The prince said and stroked with one hand over the length of your arm, which was covered by a silken red sleeve. Actually, you did not want to wear a red dress to dinner, as it would only illustrate the fronts between the two sides of your families, but your mother insisted on it. You personally have always preferred lighter colors.

"Really? You appeared to be very much... drunk when you gave it to me, Aegon." You carefully replied while you hesitantly grabbed his hand, the contact igniting a feeling of warmth in you, which you had been longing for as well.

"I was drunk, that much is true. However, I always am and I remember very well that I said that I would marry you."

"This was so long ago-" you said with a quick shake of the head, because you knew that time did not change anything about what he felt for you and what you felt for him. A marriage between the two of you would never be agreed to, even if you could not imagine marrying someone other than him. The hatred between the two sides of your family was just too big and your love would not mend the crack again.

"No, I am serious. Be my wife, please. There is no day that I did not think of you and wanted you to be by my side." He reached for your hands and held them firmly in his own as if that alone could convince you to marry him without further ado and preferably that evening right after having had dinner. He would not allow you to get betrothed, because then he would lose the opportunity to have the only person who has ever taken care of him and who has actually listened to what he had to say. If you were not there, he was miserable- the last few years have been proof of it.

On the other hand, you were completely perplexed and overwhelmed with the situation. You wanted him. He was the only one who had never treated you like a fragile doll or a mindless duckling, but just like a girl like any other and you liked that. You did not want to be considered weak by everyone- of all the dragons you rode Silverwing, by the gods, you were not weak. It was bad enough that you were a dragon rider and your mother did not allow you to ride as much as you would have liked.

Unfortunately, the truth was that Rhaenyra and Alicent would never agree to a union between him and you. They would rather die or burn in the seven hells and you wanted to save yourself the pain that would follow if you asked and the two older women would vehemently forbid it even if nothing spoke against it and it would actually serve to strengthen House Targaryen for future generations. Unfortunately, it was more likely that at some point he would marry one of the daughters of Lord Baratheon or his own sister Helaena and that you would have to marry Lord Cregan Stark eventually.

"You don't know me anymore. If you excuse me, my prince, I have to continue preparing myself for dinner now.”

With a jerk you pulled your hands out of his and sat down at your dressing table, trying to ignore him and push him away from you, because you would not be able to allow your feelings for him to bloom now and in the end you would have to spend your life with another. You would not be able to bear it. The prince looked at you with an expression of utter disbelief on his features, until then a flicker of anger crossed his gaze and he stormed out of your chambers without hesitation, the door falling shut so loudly that it made you flinch.

You just wanted to protect him as well as yourself.

Later at dinner you watched Aegon drowning himself in alcohol and staring at his plate without touching the food at all. Aemond, who sat on the other side of the table, stared at your siblings and you at all times, not letting you out of his sight, until it suddenly escalated and a single toast made everyone become aware of how fragile the bond that held your family together actually was.

Shortly afterwards, your mother informed you that you would return to dragonstone the very next morning and you felt right in your decision to have pushed away the man for whom you had deeper feelings for. It was better for both of you. At least that was what you kept telling yourself.

You told that to yourself when you came back to your rooms and found them empty and dark, you told yourself when you sat alone in front of the fireplace and loosened your braids, when you undressed, put on a light nightgown, and you kept repeating it to yourself when you climbed in bed at last and slowly began to fall into a peaceful sleep. You would not be able to bear the pain that would follow if you allowed yourself to actually be with him.

Aegon still felt the taste of dornish wine on his tongue and its effects clouding his senses when he stood in the middle of the night in the darkness of your bedchambers and stared down at your sleeping form in your bed, the moonlight that fell through the windows illuminating your soft features like you were the very image of the Maiden. He was slightly shaky on his feet and he was well aware that he should not be here, but he just could not control himself. Your rejection before dinner and the way you refused to speak a single word to him while you had sat beside each other had robbed him of his last bit of sanity and he just had to know what you felt.

He had a simple plan; slipping inside your rooms unnoticed, tainting your honor and showing his mother the proof of it in the morning, because then she would have to agree to a union just like his half-sister, since you would ruined for any other man. His plan had been so simple, he would just have to tear the blanket right of you, push your nightgown up to your hips and take his pleasure, but when he approached the edge of your bed and saw how peaceful you looked like sleeping, he could not bring himself to do it.

The prince felt a lump forming in his throat, his heart becoming heavy and he could not help but kneel on the floor next to the bed, while he buried his face next to yours in the pillow in the hope that you would not notice the tears of shame burning in his eyes. You should just sleep on and never find out that he was even here. He was a monster for even thinking of ruining you.

He sobbed into your plush pillows, his hands fisting the silken bed sheets tightly when he suddenly felt something stirring beside him on the mattress, but he did not raise his head just yet. He did not want to look you in the eye after what he had originally come for.

"Uncle? What happened?"

Your gentle voice was like a balm for his soul, but he still continued to quietly sob into your pillows. You did not even ask why he was here, but what had happened. Even now you took care of him, although you had wanted to distance yourself from him a few hours ago for a reason that he simply could and would not understand.

"What have I done? Why are you pushing me away from you? What has changed?”

You quickly rubbed the remnants of sleep out of your eyes and you began to caress his back with your small hands, which made a shiver run down his spine and the tears on his wet cheeks slowly started to dry because no new ones fell, at least not right now. Like always, your touch calmed him.

"Why are you here?" You asked him instead of giving him an answer to his previous questions, because you could not tell him the truth. To see how the man you loved cried on the edge of your bed because of something that you had done when you had actually just wished to protect him from that very pain was making your heart shatter into a thousand pieces. You did not want to feel this pain nor did you want him to experience it. What have you done?

"Don't go," he murmured and finally raised his head slightly again to look at you with his reddened, swollen eyes, even if the room was dark and both of you could barely make each other out in the dark.

"Don't leave me a second time, please. Not again... don’t do this to me."

You sighed and sat up in bed, because this was exactly what you had not wanted to happen. His sensitivity was no secret to you and you knew how much you meant to him and how much he meant to you. Your mother had decided that you would return to dragonstone and you could not argue against her decision after what had happened today at dinner. Your house was more fragile than ever and if the others were to find out what you felt for each other, it would be the stone that would set a giant chaos into motion. It would be the end of Haus Targaryen as you knew it.

"Go away, Aegon," you murmured and sat down in such a way that your knees were pressed against your chest and your arms were wrapped around your legs as if you wanted to give yourself a hug to comfort yourself.

“No, please ... darling, don’t," whimpered the older prince and climbed next to you on the soft mattress, desperately searching for your gaze and your closeness. He wanted to pull you into him, love you and never let you go again even for a small second, because you were the only thing in this world that gave him something akin to a glimmer of hope, a light in the deepest darkness of his broken soul.

"Butterfly…"

"Don't call me that!" You suddenly spat at him loudly, which immediately made him wince and made hot tears burn in his eyes once more, threatening to spill over his pale cheeks.

You have never been angry with him before. Never.

"I love you! Don't you see that? I love you so much, but I cannot live with the pain of loving a man that I cannot call my own.”

That was it. The words and the truth were out and he had heard them. His suffering broke your heart, but he deserved to hear these three words from you at least once. You loved him, you truly did, but a miracle would need to happen so that you would be able to live out your love. It was not his fault, nor was it yours, as it was the hatred that has been burning between your mothers for years- a hatred that would probably never vanish.

Aegon was speechless. For a moment he just shook his head in disbelief, which made his white curls fall over his forehead, but it did not prevent him from looking into your beautiful face and seeing in the desperate look in your dark eyes that you were serious. "But I already am yours, am I not?"

"Aegon..." Your shoulders sagged even further down and you pushed your legs even further against your upper body, the sight of it making him miserable, because he did not want to imagine what would have happened had he actually went through with his plan and he would have taken you without your consent and made you his without warning. You would probably have shouted and fought back and he could never have forgiven himself for it and you would never have forgiven him either. No, he was glad that he had not done it.

He carefully approached your trembling shape on the bed and he tenderly wrapped his arms around you and pressed you against him as firmly as he could. Now you started to sob into his shoulder bitterly and he started to slowly rock you back and forth, while he buried his nose into your brown hair like he had done earlier, because your scent always seemed to calm him down, but your hair was also a sign for everyone else that you should not exist and that you, being a bastard, would be monstrous by nature, but he could not care about that in the slightest. You were beautiful on the inside and outside and one day he would prove it to you- perhaps even tonight.

"Marry me?" Back then it was a promise, now it was a serious question and he meant it with every fiber of his body. You were meant to be his wife, even if your love would be a scandal in the eyes of the gods, but he has never been a religious man anyways.

"I can't, uncle, I can't."

Aegon started to place soft and slow kisses on the top of your head. He began his exploration on your hair, then wandered down to your forehead, brushing his lips over your eyebrows, over your cheeks, which were wet from the tears that you shed for him until he reached your own lips, which looked so soft and inviting that he could hardly hold back.

"Marry me." He whispered against your lips and he looked for your gaze to see what was going through your head. Your eyes had always been the mirror to your soul.

His voice, his pleading tone, his warm breath that stroked your face, and the sudden closeness to him was just too much for you.

You do not dare to say it, but a simple, barely noticeable nod on your part was enough and the prince kissed you as if his life depends on it, his hands wandering over every centimeter of your body while he gently pushed you to lay on your back and he hovered over you, not separating his mouth from you for even a split second.

The rest of the night you both drowned in a sea of desire and pleasure, years of wanting and yearning coming to its climax. At some point, his hands had sneaked under the fabric of your nightgown, undressed you, while you had returned the favor at the same time, whereupon he had not lost any time to show you what it would mean to be his wife and you enjoyed every single second of it.

Neither Aegon nor you really listened to the argument that followed the next morning after your maid had told Rhaenyra who she had found laying next to you in your bed and what had to have happened at night based on the red stain on your sheets. Insults got thrown around, voices became louder, but you merely snuggled closer to your lover, who protectively wrapped an arm around your waist and leaned his head to yours while a feeling of happiness flooded him.

You were his now and neither his mother nor yours could ever take you away from him ever again. It was too late for that now.

Love was often said to be the death of duty and Aegon Targaryen would not give a single shit about duty for the rest of his life if it meant he got to forever hold you in his arms like this and love you like you deserved.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Between Fire and Stone

Daemon Targaryen/Strong!female

summary: anxious about her approaching union to Aemond, the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen seeks comfort | word count: 2.8k~ | warnings: incest, reader is described with strong features, fingering, p in v sex, arranged marriage, Daemon being a cheeky cunt

A/N: idek what I was on to write this cos I'm not usually a Daemon girlie but here we are besties. Tysm @em-writes-stuff-sometimes for beta-ing 😘 appreciate you

The cold mist nipped at the skin around her ankles, a shiver running up her spine as she struggled through the jagged rock towards the Dragonmont. Her fingers brushed against the stark stone for balance, the other holding the lit torch to light her way before her in the darkness.

It was one of her favourite things, taking a stroll through Dragonstone in the hour of the wolf. Peaceful. Quiet. Something she could have all for herself. Away from the prying of her maidservants and the overbearing boisterous nature of her brothers. Though Jace, now a man grown, still held onto those immaturities.

Yet another thing that set her apart from her siblings.

For she, only a mere year younger than Jace, was considered a woman, ripe for marriage and bearing children, whereas the same hastiness was not pressured upon him. She knew her mother had never intended to bestow such responsibilities on her, but she understood, it was inevitable. As that time loomed ever closer, she found herself roaming her home more often, as if to savour the feeling of once being a child.

Where her brothers could seek adventure with their dragons once they were big enough to saddle, her egg had not hatched in her cradle. She would not inherit the birthright of the blood of Old Valyria, yet another judgement cast upon her that only inflated her sense of belonging at her mother's side. With her moonlit hair and pale lilac eyes, each of her children could not have looked more different.

Before the incident, there existed only one other soul who could truly fathom the depths of her solitude. No dragon. Ceaseless taunts. The notion of isolation, even amongst one’s family. Any semblance of camaraderie had been extinguished the day Lucerys took his eye. That defining moment when Aemond—her uncle—seized his birthright had marked the fracture in their familial bonds. In the aftermath, her mother, alongside her new husband Daemon, orchestrated a grand scheme to mend the shattered relations, a plan that involved her betrothal to him at an opportune moment.

Try as she might, she couldn't conjure the image of herself as his wife. The thought of residing in King's Landing under his roof refused to coalesce into a coherent vision. It remained an elusive spectre, haunting her thoughts with its intangible uncertainty.

Whispers of tradition and duty echoed in the hallowed halls of her childhood, spun by the gentle tongues of Septas who spoke of the sacred rites of marriage. Tales of Lords and Ladies, of the solemn exchange of vows, and the anticipated consummation on the wedding night. Some stories painted a picture of pleasure and intimacy, of unions founded on mutual desire and affection. Others whispered of duty, of sacrifices made for the sake of one's spouse, regardless of personal inclination.

Caught in the web of uncertainty, she pondered which version of Aemond awaited her, a tender partner or a distant lord, bound by duty and tradition. The unknown loomed before her like a shadow, casting doubt upon her heart and stirring a quiet fear within her soul. She knew not what to expect, but the uncertainty itself was enough to unsettle her, to sow the seeds of apprehension in her mind. And as the weight of anticipation hung heavy in the air, she couldn't help but wonder, which path would her marriage tread, and would she have the strength to endure whatever lay ahead?

Amidst the towering peaks of Dragonmont, she sought solace in the embrace of ancient flames and the soothing hum of Vermithor's slumber. Here, amidst the rugged terrain and the ever-watchful gaze of the dragons, she found a fleeting sense of peace.

But it was not the Bronze Fury that sang to her. 

“Hen ñuhā elēnī:

Perzyssy vestretis,

Se gēlȳn irūdaks…

Ānogrose.”

She felt the rush of heat at the nape of her neck. Daemon stood straight, back facing her, his voice near-matching the hum of Vermithor’s deep exhales.

“It is late, Princess.” Unlike her, Daemon remained as he dressed during the day, shown when he turned to face her, with the self-satisfied smirk on his lips. “What troubles you?” he asked.

She tried to raise her chin, but her eyes betrayed the turmoil that stirred within. 

“My fate,” she said, her careful steps drawing ever nearer. "I am to be wed to Aemond, but I fear what awaits me in that union.”

Daemon hummed, as if curiously amused.

She had known no father figure since Laenor. And though she knew sooner than her brothers the truth that lay beneath the careful picture her mother had forged, since she had been wed to Daemon, he had taken practice with his own daughters and become almost a father to her alike.

She felt his eyes sink over her once before returning to her eyes.

"Marriage is a weighty matter," he said. "But is it the marriage itself that troubles you, or something more?”

She did not miss the lilt to his voice. The one, that like his eyes had done many times before, made something squeeze in her gut. A fire burning bright. A feeling that brought her shame.

He was her mother's husband.

“I cannot say exactly,” she confessed. “Perhaps it is leaving Dragonstone. Mother and my brothers. And being alone in the capital with no face I recognise with trust.”

Daemon nodded almost indistinctly, his fingers reaching out to brush a lock of hair back over her shoulder, admiring her hair loose of its usual braids. His touch sent a shiver down her spine, a sensation both familiar and disconcerting. She fought to push aside the conflicting emotions that threatened to overwhelm her, the warmth of his touch conflicting with the knowledge of their complicated relationship.

"Leaving behind the familiar can indeed be a daunting prospect," Daemon acknowledged, his voice a velvet caress, “But fret not. Within you resides the same fire that fuels your mother's resolve. Embrace it. You are as much Targaryen as any of them.”

She felt a blush creeping up her cheeks at the intensity of his gaze, at the way he seemed to see straight through her defences. She knew she should be wary of his advances, of the way he danced on the edge of propriety with his words and his touch. But there was something undeniably alluring about the way he held her gaze, about the way he made her feel desired and understood.

"Thank you, Daemon," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "Your support means more to me than you know.”

Daemon's smile was a slow, seductive curve of his lips, his eyes alight with a fire that mirrored the flames of the Dragonmont. 

"Ah, but my dear Princess," he replied, his voice low and husky, "you have yet to discover the true depths of my support.”

She felt her throat close up, the feeling mirroring somewhat what happened between her thighs.

What could he possibly mean?

“Do you fear it?” he asked. “The act of consummation?”

Her cheeks flushed crimson at Daemon's bold question, his words sending a jolt of both arousal and apprehension coursing through her veins. 

“It… is perfectly normal, I would think,” she answered, words failing her.

"Princess," he murmured, his voice a soothing caress against her skin. "There is no shame in feeling uncertain. It is only natural to have doubts, especially when faced with such intimate matters.”

She felt he was circling her, as dragons did their targets. And felt her heart thumping in her chest.

“With Aegon, I dare say, I would join you in your uncertainty. But Aemond, on the other hand… is a different matter entirely.”

“How so?” she asked, breathing out when he disappeared out of her line of sight, his presence at her back, fingers draping past the material of her dress.

“I am afraid he may be less… forthcoming with expressing his desires,” he purred. “He may be cold, or at least that is how it may be interpreted.” Her eyes met his with bated breath as he appeared on her opposite side, closer. “He may not be so adept with the pleasures of a female body.”

She swallowed, a chill settling on her front, her body reacting thus. He remained silent, as if daring her to say what he knew was already on the tip of her tongue. So, she took the plunge. “And…you are?”

Daemon smirked smugly, and she knew she already had her answer., “What do you think?”

Her heart raced. Her mind struggled to contemplate whether she should be honest or not, for she had heard stories and rumours. She knew she was treading dangerous waters, playing with fire in the form of her mother's husband, but there was a part of her that couldn't resist the allure of his confidence, his charm, his undeniable magnetism.

"I... I suppose I never considered such matters," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, her cheeks burning with embarrassment at the admission.

Daemon's eyes danced with amusement as he stepped closer. "Perhaps it is time you did," he murmured, fingers trailing lightly down the curve of her spine.

Her skin vibrated with anticipation as she fought to maintain her composure in the face of his overwhelming presence. She knew she should pull away, should put an end to this dangerous game they were playing, but the lure of Daemon's charm was too strong to resist.

“Mayhaps I could demonstrate and put your worries to rest,” he suggested, crossing the imaginary but daring line seemingly without fear. “Rest assured, my experience in such matters is... extensive."

Her heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to maintain her resolve, her body betraying her with every flutter of her lashes, every quickened breath. “But… you and Mother—”

Her lips clamped shut with the bruising of his grip in the softness of her waist, urging her back to the rocky, hard wall. Only now, when faced with the Rogue Prince, did she realise just how small she truly felt.

“Your mother is preoccupied with her own affairs," he replied, his voice dripping with a dangerous allure. "She won't concern herself with our little... indiscretion.”

The realisation sank in that she was alone with Daemon in the secluded confines of the Dragonmont, far removed from the prying eyes of the world. And yet, she still felt her lips go dry when he hung the torch and trailed his touch upon her skin where he was taking her skirts with it.

She could not hide her nerves, or the beating rush of arousal, “Bu—but… with Aemond, I must—”

The air felt warm as her skirt was rucked around her hips. She squeaked when his calloused fingers swept through her folds, ashamed to find she was affected by what he was doing to her as her slick coated them easily.

Daemon chuckled, a pleased hum in his chest that she was wet and ready, while his other hand busied with the laces of his breeches, “Sweet girl. When my dear nephew has his cock buried inside you on your wedding night, he will not know the difference.”

His words, combined with the tight circles he applied to the forbidden bud tucked between her legs, had white hot pleasure burning in her veins. Her lips were parted, but no sound came out. All she could do was look upon his pleased face with a hedonistic expression, feeling very much like they were doing something deliciously wrong but could find no reasonable excuse to cease.

“Do not look so surprised. I have seen the way you watch me. Are you not ashamed for looking upon your own mother’s husband with lust?” 

The more he touched her, the more arousal he coaxed forth, the sound lewd and forbidden in the raw silence of the Draognmont. She could not answer his question without subjecting herself to further embarrassment. Even so, attempting to concentrate enough to form words as his two forefingers slid within her tight, hot walls, was near impossible. She gasped quietly, the feeling so foreign and yet not unpleasant. And like Daemon in any other scenario, while his motions were forceful, somewhat brutal, they were calculated, without effort. Like it came innately. Her hands found purchase on his shoulders, his digits buried deep inside curved towards him, stoking a fire at the hearth of her.

“Answer me.”

She nodded frantically. “Yes—I am ashamed—”

It was all she managed before the feeling began to crest, building and building as if she were climbing some great height and was about to tumble off. But she only exhaled shakily as Daemon withdrew his fingers from her fluttering, sensitive walls, using the moisture to lubricate himself with a careful caress of his manhood.

He chuckled at the wounded expression on her face. “No need for shame, Princess.”

She caught the glint of his ring as he wrung the fabric of her skirts in his fist. Her eyes widened as the head of his cock disappeared easily between her swollen folds, with no real full feeling until he pushed forward, both with hesitation and a sort of evil excitement.

Her back pressed against the jagged stone, her lips only parted to suck in air where it had left her lungs. It was a feeling she could describe very little, the sting of being stretched around him painful and yet once sheathed fully inside her, hips pushing against her own. Daemon wrapped his fingers around her fleshy thigh to tug her leg over his hip, a flash of white hot pleasure creeping up her spine. He only grunted, her slick ridges gripping him greedily without any effort on her part. 

For a few moments, he stayed like that as if waiting for any complaint, but when he found none, began a steady rhythm, fingers creating crescent-moon shaped welts in her skin. He did not share in her reaction. He simply raised one corner of his lips in a pleased manner, watching her face, treating it very much as a lesson in pleasure more than anything else.

She could scarcely think with the violent push of his hips, the notch of his belt stabbing into her each time.

“My nephew does not deserve this perfect. little cunt.” He grunted from the effort. “Tell me, Princess—when he is fucking you with his narrow little prick, will you be thinking of this instead?”

Her eyes slipped shut, her head tipped back and fingers coming to her own mouth to muffle the lewd sound that threatened to come out. Her perceived embarrassment at her own enjoyment of this only seemed to motivate Daemon further, and he widened her hips with a soft nudge of his knee against her leg and groaned at the way she tightened around him.

“You liked that, didn't you?” He breathed against her face, looking briefly down between them to watch how he rooted himself inside her over and over, as if unable to believe this was really happening. “I bet he won't make you this wet. I doubt the little cunt will even know how to make you come.”

Her skirt fell from his hand as it drew down between them, and she resisted the urge to squeal when he began to apply pressure in tight, sure circles around her bud.

“You shall have to teach him those pleasures.”

Her fingers gripped his forearms tight as she climaxed, her tight, hot walls spasming around him uncontrollably. It was so utterly different to the way she had pleasured herself before. This time, the forbidden combination of Daemon stretching her open around him and the pleasure he coaxed from her with his fingers meant that this peak seemed to drain her entire body of energy. Her body feeling boneless in his hold, that if he let go, she would surely lose her balance.

A flash of fear cracked like lightning across her subconscious. Surely he did not intend to spill inside her?

He did not overstimulate her for much longer as he neared his own end. Rather, he savoured the feeling of her warmth sucking him in for just a few moments more before pulling out, stroking himself vigorously to completion, warm ropes of his spend coating her lower stomach.

In the quiet dead of night with only her laboured breathing to echo within it, she felt her eyes could not keep up with her mind as she glanced back up at him. His rapidly cooling seed began to dribble towards her thighs, swiftly covered by her skirts once more as Daemon lowered her clothing back into place. The reality of the dangerous and yet delicious sin she had committed with him began to rise into clarity.

Upon his fingers shone the damning proof of his sordid claim on her, pearly in the glow of torchlight. “What a waste. I’d have liked to see it dripping from you.

But that pleasure… I shall save for my nephew, sweet girl."

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @valleyof-goldenlilies

[writers-potion]

Hi! I would like to ask if you could possibly give any tips on how to properly manage to introduce characters ?

Techniques for Character Introduction

There are many things you can consider for an impactful character introduction:

The Point of View of your novel

Whether your character is a POV character or not

The tone of your novel

What your character is like

In-Medias-Res

Immediately show the character in the middle of action.

Character(s) come into the scene running, fighting, laughing - whatever it is.

Good for leaving an impression

Could be an in-medias-res hook in the very opening of your novel, to introduce the main character.

Choose an action that "defines" the character. Perhaps it's something they do repeatedly (going to the gym at 5am every morning) or that shows a key part of their personality (digging through a large pile of laundry because they cannot keep their room clean)

Dialogue - Voice First

The character makes a voice entrance before we "see" them physically appear.

It helps the readers define the relationship between the character being introduced and the character that we've been following.

From Dan Brown's <Digital Fortress>:

"David?" "It's Strathmore," the voice replied. Susan slumped. "Oh," She was unable to hide her disappointment. "Good afternoon, Commander." "Hoping for a younger man?" The voice chuckled. "No, sir," Susan said.

In these few lines, we already know (1) Strathmore is Susan's boss, (2) quite high-ranking in some military/governmental/secret agency (commander??) (3) is male (4) has a sense of humor (5) seems to be quite friendly with his employees, etc.

By using phone conversations, you can also show how the POV/main character truly feels about the character on the phone - there's no need to make appearances. Perhaps they frown, or attempt to throw their phone on the wall in frustration while the other talks.

Via Another Character

This is where characters in the story talk about the characters even before they are introduced.

Often used with villains/characters with popularity in the story world.

Example: "You've heard of Joe, of course."/ "I'm sorry, who?" /"The president of Book Club? Red hair, freckles?"

Simple Intro with direct characterization

Sometimes, just writing a brief description about the character can be effective, especially if you have some backstory that really, really need to be there before the readers start following the character.

Here's a passage from Leigh Bardugo's <The Familiar>:

"Dona Valentina had been raised by two cold, distracted parents who felt little towards her beyond a vague sense of disappointment in her tepid beauty and the unlikelihood that she would make a good match. She hadn't. Don Marius Ordono possessed a dwindling fortune..."

The key here: provide interesting detail. There's no fun in saying, "Dona Valentina wasn't too pretty, so she had to marry Don Marius Ordono with little wealth." An image of a girl neglected by her parents and bartered for wealth is much more captivating.

Slow & Mysterious Setup

This one is harder to execute than the others on this list, but when done properly, it can produce a beautiful effect where the readers know who you're talking about without you ever having to name them.

An excellent example of this is how Marcus Zusak introduces Death (with capital D, who's the narrator of the story):

"I could introduce myself properly, but it's not really necessary. You will know me well enough and soon enough, depending on a diverse range of variables."

"Your soul will be in my arms." "I will carry you gently away."

Death continues to talk about his "job" like the above until it becomes enough for the reader to catch on.

Drop enough hints for your readers to recognize the character

Works best with an archetypal character - devil, vampire, demon, angels...some figure with distinct features that even when described mysteriously, will be noticeable.

Showing Attitude - For POV characters

Present a peculiar line of thought or show some attitude that makes the character immediately interesting.

This works wonderfully with POV characters - by giving the reader a crucial piece of the POV character's mindset to set the overall tone of the novel.

From Rick Riordan's <Percy Jackson and the Lightening Thief>:

"Look, I didn't want to be a half-blood. If you're reading this because you think you might be one, my advise is: close this book right now."

Percy (the POV character) goes on a bit like this before we get his name, etc. in the subsequent section.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

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[hanmaitani]

Alexithymia

PRONOUNCED - alex·​i·​thy·​mia | /əˌleksəˈTHīmēə/ DEFINITION - the inability to identify and express or describe one's feelings.

PAIRING - Tsukishima Kei x Reader WC - 7.5K (oops) GENRE - Smut, Angst, Fluff CW - oral (m!receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, multiple rounds, multiple orgasms, im insane?

PREV PART | MASTERLIST

The three days that you had to wait until the party felt like they took forever.

It was three days of avoiding telling Aiko and your other friends where the hickeys and the bruises came from. Three days of trying not to give a snarky reply whenever Tsukishima spoke - and missing the drop in his features whenever you neglected it.

Three days of leaving your shared classes just before the bell rang so that he didn't have the chance to catch you in the halls.

Now, however, you were both trapped in Aiko's house with the rest of the team and selected other close friends. You knew this house like the back of your hand and if you really tried, you could completely avoid him and every other person in this house all night.

But then, if you were going to do that, you might as well have not come. Aiko would have had your head for that. So instead, you chose to do something that you knew would piss Tsukishima off. You latched yourself onto someone that he hated.

Kageyama Tobio.

You had spent all night flirting with Tobio and it honestly, had you feeling mentally drained. He was cute, you wouldn't deny how absolutely adorable he was and how easily he flustered made you laugh. But he was also so so oblivious.

Oblivious to the batting of your eyelashes as you looked up at him. Oblivious to the soft touches on his arm while you over-exaggerated laughs.

You'd been at it for nearly an hour now, overdoing your flirting with Kageyama without so much as a glance towards Tsukishima. You really didn't have to look to know he was watching.

You could feel it. His eyes, drilling into your back, golden as the sun and burning just as hot. All it would take was a bump to send him over the edge you'd brought him to. You just couldn't seem to press the right button yet. A bump. A bump was all you needed.

A bump was what you got. Straight to the back from someone you didn't see as they passed behind you.

You lost your balance easily, the alcohol aiding in your unsteady legs as you felt yourself start to fall. Tobio was just as quick in catching you. His arm wrapped around your waist at lightning speed, pulling your body into his.

At that moment, you'd forgotten all about what you had been trying to do to Tsukishima. Your hand, the one not holding on to your drink, braced itself on Tobio's chest.

"Are you okay?" His voice came in a whisper, compared to the half-shouting you'd been communicating at to be heard over the music previously. It made you realize just how close you two were.

You swallowed hard as you felt his chest vibrate under your hand while he spoke, his defined muscles pressing into your skin. You looked up at him in awe, your cheeks heating up as you nodded lightly.

You froze for a second, he really was pretty and it was a shame that he was taken. That and that you weren't actually into him. It was a shame that even though your face heated up at the proximity, your usual snarky demeanor dropping, there were no feelings that flooded you except for the wish that you could swap him with Kei.

You shook the thought from your head as quickly as it entered and quickly detangled yourself from his hold. You glanced off to the side, willing your face to cool down. "Sorry, I'm so clumsy." You laughed lightly.

Just as Tobio's hold released you, a colder grip wrapped itself around your wrist harshly. "Excuse us." Tsukishima's voice came out clenched and before you could register his face or even turn back to catch Tobio's reaction, you were dragged away through the crowd.

"What the hell!" You tried to shout, to yank your arm back. You were only met with silence, his grip tightening as he continued to drag you along.

You caught a glimpse of his face as he expertly weaved through friends and strangers alike, no one paying either of you mind as you passed them. His eyes were fixed forward, eyes trained on something you couldn't quite see yet. His jaw was clenched so tight that you swore you could see every muscle of it outlined through his skin.

Your back met the door of a closet, only a split second after you'd seen it, as he shoved you inside. You watched him glance over his shoulder briefly, making sure no one noticed as he slipped in after you.

You waited for the door to close and the second it did, soft light from the bulb hanging above you filling the room, you shoved him as hard as you could. Pride filled you as he stumbled slightly from the force but you couldn't take the time to revel in it right now.

"What is your problem?" You hissed the words at him, shoving again. He had to take a step to steady himself. "Where the fuck do you get off dragging me around like that!?" You snarled at him, going to shove him again. He easily stopped you this time, prepared for it; he snatched your wrists out of the air and pulled your body flush to his.

You froze against him. Heat filled your face again, similar to how it just had with Tobio, the proximity getting to you. You hated that your fight faded from your body as his hand came up to cup your jaw, his thumb tracing along your lower lip.

You let him part your lips gently as you stared up at him, caught under his gaze and the soft touch of his rough fingers. His eyes softened as they trained on your lips, but only for a moment. They hardened again as he made eye contact, grip on your jaw tightening. You grimaced at the feeling, eyes beginning to water.

"Don't fucking look at him like that again." A possessive growl came from his chest, vibrating against your body. It took every ounce of your willpower to jerk your jaw from his grasp.

"What are you talking about?" You felt the fire flare up behind your temper. You matched his glare, stubbornly looking up at him in a challenge.

"Kageyama!" He nearly shouted the name and quickly lowered his volume as he realized it. "Kageyama and you giving him that fucking look."

The words fell out through clenched teeth as he pressed you into the wall. His hand wrapped around your throat, not roughly, just lightly to pin you in place. You swallowed down the fire of your temper, letting it leave your eyes and flow into your cheeks. You hated how easily he could reduce you to what you were now - staring up into his eyes, drinking in the golden sunlight of them and knowing that you would regret it the second you looked away.

"This look." Tsukishima's fingers tilted your head towards him more, tracing the column of your throat, his face came closer to yours, eyes soaking in every curve of your face. "The look you're only supposed to give me. The one you get when I hold you like this-"

The look you got when you were drinking in every feature you could and thinking how beautiful he was up close. Thinking about how much you were going to hate when he let go.

"The one that tells me you're mine." He growled in frustration again and the softness that had started to creep into his eyes left again. "Don't fucking look at him like that again." He pressed you harder against the wall, lips falling to your neck. "Promise me."

Your eyes fluttered shut as you held on to the last shreds of your resistance. "What am I supposed to promise?" You refused to let yourself fully give in to him yet.

"That you're only going to look at me like that." His words were as rough as his hands were as he grabbed at your clothes, attempting to push them off your body. "Only fucking me." You whimpered as his hands dragged you impossibly closer to him.

The sound of something crashing from the other side of the door made reality crash down on you with it. What were you doing?

Your hands found purchase on his chest again, and again you roughly shoved at him. "Don't tell me what I can and can't fucking do." You growled as he stumbled back, his touch leaving a searing pain in its absence. "I'm not fucking you in this closet at a party full of our friends."

He quickly moved in front of the door as you reached for it and you groaned in exasperation. "Fucking move, you stupid lamppost."

"Please." Your eyes snapped up to meet his as the word fell from his lips. Your anger seemed to falter as you took in the pleading look in his eyes. "Let's leave here then." You couldn't reply, your eyes only widened as his hands came up to cup your face, thumbs softly stroking across your cheeks as he kept your face tilted up at him. "Just come home with me."

His voice was soft and it seeped through every crack in your already feeble resistance, filling you up as your heart squeezed in your chest, willing you to walk away from this back and forth you had.

"Please, y/n, come home with me." The nail in the coffin of your heart. You nodded without thinking and then you were being pulled out of the closet and back through the crowd.

His grip on you was softer this time, an arm wrapped around your waist rather than fingers gripped around your wrist. Guiding instead of dragging. You couldn't take your eyes off him, everything else was merely a blur as you wove towards the front door and then to his car.

You finally came to as you stopped at a red light two streets away from Aiko's house. The leather of the seat stuck to your bare thighs as you stared out the window. Neither of you dared to speak, tension so thick in the air as you almost didn't even acknowledge each other's presence. Almost. His palm lay heavy on your thigh, fingers sprawled across it, burning through your skin.

You let him drag you out of his car when it was stopped and up the path to his dark house. Every step you took, you ignored the same part of your brain begging you to run from what was stirring inside of you. To leave before the last of your will to hate Tsukishima broke away.

The second that the door locked behind you both, his lips were on your again. It was bruising movements as he nipped at your lips, invaded your mouth with his tongue. He lifted you easily into his arms and carried you down the hall. Every one of your senses were flooded with him.

You inhaled his cologne with every breath you took, the scent dizzying to you as he swallowed the soft moans you let slip out. Your back hit the door of his room and he supported you with one arm under your ass as his other reached blindly for the handle.

He ground his hips desperately into yours as he opened the door, the heat in your core slowly flooding your whole body, craving more of his touch. Your doubts were suffocating you but all you could do was kiss him more as he slammed the door shut and pushed you back against it.

He dropped you back to the ground and pushed you to your knees without a word. Your legs didn't give much of a fight as you fell easily, his hand coming to cup your jaw roughly to keep your head against the wall and at eye-level with the bulge in his pants.

His thumb pressed between your lips, dragging and hooking onto your lower teeth to pull your mouth open. Your tongue brushed across the top of his nail and he groaned in response.

His eyes hungrily watched your lips as you ignored every protest your brain was making about letting him get away with this. His free hand gripped the neck of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head in a fluid motion.

You trailed with the him of his shirt, your eyes traveling up his torso, drinking in every ripple in his muscles as they flexed under his movements. When he was free of his shirt, as much as you could stare at his body all day, you made sure to bring your eyes back to his face - where you truly couldn't help yourself from always looking.

Your fingers fumbled with the button on his pants, undoing them as quickly as you could without letting your eyes leave his face. You pushed them down with one hand as the other immediately wrapped around the length of him, easily pumping up and down. He stepped out of his pants as you did, kicking them to the side as his hips involuntarily bucked towards you.

You felt his thumb leave your mouth and you licked out, tongue wetting your lips along with his tip. He responded with a hiss at the sudden sensation and his hands quickly wound themselves into your hair.

Impatience flooded both of you and you quickly wrapped your lips around him, sucking him in the way that you'd grown accustomed to. Your tongue stroked along the familiar veins running down the bottom of his cock as he pressed further into your mouth. His head fell back as a soft moan left his lips, his fingers tightening their grip.

You whined around him as he pulled lightly on your hair and bucked into your mouth again. "Fu-fuck." He moaned, looking back down at you and hardening his gaze, any softness he wanted to treat you with leaving his features. "Do that again."

It was a command you followed, moaning around him again, sending vibrations up his length as he held your head against the wall, thrusting against your gag reflex. Tears sprung to your eyes as the entrance of your throat clenched around his tip. Tsukishima moaned again and pulled your hair.

"Come on, I know you can do better than that." A smirk pulled onto his lips as he ushered in the challenge, pulling back from your mouth a little bit, so his cock rested comfortably on your tongue. "Do better."

One of his hands left your hair and tapped on your cheek lightly as you hollowed it out, sucking gently on him. His eyes were locked onto your own watery ones, refusing to leave them.

"Fuck you look so pretty like this." You whimpered at the roughness of his voice compared to the words that it formed and your jaw went slack for him. Open for him to use.

He thrust back in quickly, reveling in the way some of the tears in your eyes started to fall as you hit the back of your throat again. Your chest heaved as you tried to relax your throat, to ease the ache, and he pushed further in.

Your eyes squeezed shut and your throat involuntarily tried to push him back out. Your head tried to jerk backwards but the wall behind you and his grip on your hair refused to let you move even an inch.

He thrust hard a few times, spit collecting around the corner of your lips, mixing with the tears the dripped down your cheeks as you gagged around him. "Yeah, fuck, like that." He groaned but pulled back lightly, leaving his tip in your mouth.

You coughed and sputtered, gasping in air from the small space he left you. But the panting coming from him above you sent heat pooling between your legs despite trying to catch your breath. You willed yourself to look back up at him.

His face was flushed a pretty pink as his eyes watched the drool fall from your lips, down the length of his cock, and onto your chest. The look of him there, so enraptured by you, made you stick your tongue out more, trying to open wider for him.

He thrust in again, picking up a fast pace. Gags and obscene noises were pulled from your throat. Your tears ran hot down your cheeks, your body contracting as you gagged, more of your saliva soaking his cock.

His tongue poked out of his mouth as he held onto your hair tighter with one hand, the other running through his own hair, mussing it while he moaned loudly. His head was dropped forward, eyes locked onto your face as he fucked your mouth.

"Look so fucking hot on your knees for me." You let out a strangled whimper and he growled out as he felt the sound travel up his length. "Fuck, only ever look at me like this." You made a pathetic attempt at nodding up at him and he breathed out a laugh, picking up his pace. Your lungs burned as he narrowed his eyes and got rougher with his thrusts, like he remembered why he was mad in the first place. "Never going to fucking look at him like this."

He let out another loud moan while he abused your throat, losing a bit of control to his thrusts. You lifted your hand, prepared to tap out of the assault. He stopped on his own accord before you got the chance.

He pulled away from you quickly and you realized how much his grip had held you in your place. Your hands braced on your knees as your body fell forward. You gasped around the saliva falling out of your mouth and down your chin, mixing with your tears.

His hand wrapped around your elbow and hauled you to your feet before you could clear your head. The ache in your knees caused them to buckle when your weight was set on them and you knew that you would fall if he wasn't supporting you. You only had to deal with being on your feet for a few seconds before they left the ground again as he tossed you onto the bed.

His hands were back on you before your body could stop bouncing onto the mattress from the force. Roughly gripping your hips and easily tearing your clothing from your body.

"So fucking gorgeous like this." He praised softly as his hands trailed from your hips to your thighs. His hands changed again, from their soft grazes to a rough grip on the backs of your thighs as he spread them, hooking your knees over his elbows.

You squealed in surprise, head feeling dizzy from his treatment as he yanked you towards him with hands on your waist. Your eyes fluttered, moaning as you heard him spit onto your exposed cunt.

You had barely registered the feeling before you felt him slam his entire length into you with a single thrust. Your eyes flew back open and a loud, squealing gasp left your lips, your nails finding home digging into his forearms.

"Fu-fuck. K-Kei." You stuttered as his head fell forward with an elongated curse of his own.

"Feel so fucking good around me." He didn't even give you a second to catch your breath before he was pulling out and slamming his hips back into yours again. The angle was just right and your vision got blurry as you immediately started to feel your orgasm building.

He offered you no mercy as he battered against your g-spot, his pace fast and rough, unforgiving as unfiltered moans fell from your lips.

"Kei!" You cried out, your grip tightening as you felt your back arch, pressing your chest closer to him. "Kei fuck- I'm gon-" You were cut off by the form of your own half moan, half scream that tore from your throat as he fucked into you even harder at your declaration.

"Fucking already?" Condescending as he let out a scoff, the bit of it was taken away by the moan that left his lips immediately after it. "Fucking cum on my cock then baby," he permitted, "cum the way that only I can make you."

His grip on your waist dragged you down, across the bedsheets to meet every thrust he gave and you whined at the possession he had over you.

A slew of curses rolled off your lips, slurred by your own saliva and your tongue that couldn't quite cooperate with you, as you felt your entire body tense up. You clamped down around him and his eyes squeezed shut, determined to keep his pace and angle.

You could barely feel it as your back arched off the bed, your head falling backwards as your orgasm crashed into you like a freight train. One of his arms moved to keep your back arched like that, giving him a deeper angle as his pace, his roughness refused to let up, fucking you through your orgasm.

The sound in your ears felt muffled, but you could still hear the wet slap every time his hips met yours again. The sounds got progressively louder, sloppier as you gushed around him. Your orgasm didn't even make him pause. The tip of his dick brushed against your g-spot with every thrust into you.

It felt like he was trying to get even deeper inside of you as you clawed at his arms and choked on moans and cries of pleasure. You weren't sure if that goal was possible, but damn did he try.

"You take me so fucking well." Your body clenched up again at the praise he pushed out through his teeth. "Yeah," he responded to your body, "you like being told that?"

His eyes held yours and you could almost pinpoint an emotion behind them that you couldn't read. Almost but not quite, not having the time to focus on it as he gave you another particularly hard thrust. Your head fell to the side again and you waited for his next comment. Waited for the degradation that came from him every time you fucked.

"Prettiest fucking thing I've ever seen." He growled out and a gasp ripped from your lips. You swore you must have misheard him.

As if he could read your mind, he leaned forward, his chest pressing against yours. One of his hands came up to grip your jaw, bringing your face back to his, forcing you to hold his eye contact.

"Cum again pretty girl, give me another one." And with the way he was looking at you, the words falling from his lips against yours as he continued his rough pace... your body had no choice but to comply.

You tumbled over another edge that you hadn't even registered being close to. Your vision of him blurred out around the edges, white spots decorating the image. He swallowed every moan you gave with breathtaking kisses and reciprocated with moaned praises into your mouth.

"Just like that baby." He cursed as he fucked you through your orgasm, trying to draw it out. "So fucking beautiful for me." He let out a broken moan and his thrusts started to get sloppy. "All mine." He possessively gripped onto you, his voice begging for you to comply, to corroborate.

"All yours." You whimpered back through a moan.

You kissed him again as you registered his own muscles tightening up, his length twitching inside of you. The moan that he let flow into your mouth was high-pitched and broken. Pulling your body impossibly tighter to his, you felt him paint your insides with his own orgasm.

He collapsed onto you for a second before rolling off, disconnecting your bodies as he did so. You both laid there in almost silence, your legs dangling off the bed and chests heaving as you were surrounded by the sound of both of you trying to catch your breath.

As your vision cleared up, the tingly feeling in your body had begun to be replaced with something else. The tightening in your chest as you thought about the words that had fallen rom your lips. Words you desperately wanted to be said with love. But you knew better.

You knew that tomorrow you would see your friends and he would pretend that he didn't know where the bruises that littered your skin were from. You would lie for him. Tomorrow, he wouldn't even look your way as you watched his every movement and hung onto every sarcastic comment that left his tongue.

You couldn't do this anymore. Let yourself be confused by this. By him. You needed to stop thi-

"I don't need anyone else seeing you like this."

Your eyes snapped open and your head turned to look at him, so quickly that you were sure you heard it crack. That was the least of your concerns. You didn't even remember your eyes having fallen closed or hearing his body shift so that he was looking at you.

9 simple words.

That was all it took to reignite the hate in your veins for the man next to you. You pushed yourself up, ignoring the scream from every fiber in your body at the movements.

"Yeah, I get it Tsukki." You whispered it, shaking your head as you searched for your underwear first. You spotted the fabric and made for it. "Don't want anyone else to see me under them and looking like at them like that and-"

You cut yourself off as you slipped back on your underwear, furrowing your eyebrows at why your vision was blurry again. You could hear him shift behind you but your focus was on your hand as it came away from your cheeks, wet. Tears. Great. You clenched your teeth and brushed away all the wetness you could and worked on finding your bra next.

"That's not-" Tsukishima groaned and you heard his feet hit the floor as he got off the bed, "y/n would you wait a second." He voice was softer than usual but you refused to look up at him, spotting your bra by the door.

"Listen, Tsukishima." You clipped your bra into place and grabbed the shirt laying only a few feet away. "This has been fun, really." You sniffled and quickly his it with a clearing of your throat. "Great stress relief and you're a great fuck."

You forced the words out, letting the words freeze over as you pulled the shirt down over your torso and turned to find your shorts. Tsukishima stepped into your path. He'd pulled his boxers back on but you were too busy to care.

Busy with holding back all your emotions. You chose one to zero in on and you let it out. "Get out of my fucking way." You growled out, fixing your eyes onto his chest with a glare, refusing to look up at his face, knowing that you would break if you did.

"Stop fucking walking around." He grabbed your upper arms to hold you in place as you tried to push past him again. "Just, would you listen to me!"

"I don't know where you get off!" You shouted then, trying to rid yourself of his grasp, struggling unsuccessfully. "We're not together." You seethed and his grip loosened. "I'm not your fucking girlfriend." The words burned as you spit them out and you barely registered his arms dropping away from you.

"What makes you think that you can tell me what to do!?" You shoved at his chest and he took a step back. You spun on your heel and tried to locate the shorts you'd been wearing. "You can't fucking play with me like this." It was quieter than your shouts, but you knew he heard.

He was in front of you again in a second. This time, his hands cupped your face and forced you to look up at him. "Just give me five minutes. The quietness of his voice made you freeze, your eyes locking with his.

Worry was written all over his face, pouring from his furrowed eyebrows to his glazed over eyes. It drifted past his lightly parted lips, to the tensed up muscles of his body as he stood rigidly in front of you. It seeped from his hands holding your face softly and contaminated you too.

His worry kept your eyes locked on his and your body frozen in place. Stopped the words in your throat and the breath in your lungs. A sudden heaviness that neither of you were used to.

"Please, don't go." He whispered, begging you. "Please just stay. For one more night."

You can't help but think your ears were faulty because you could have sworn his voice cracked the slightest before he continued.

"I know you hate me. God you have every right to. But just let me have you for one more night. I need you for one more night." Your chest tightened as you looked up at him, a rush of emotions overloading you and you couldn't figure out which one to feel most. "I don't want anyone else to have you this way. To see you this way."

You chose to feel the hurt the most and opened your mouth to yell at him. He only cut you off again.

"Just shut up for a second!" He clenched his eyes shut as he raised his voice. You stopped and he sighed, opening his eyes again. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-" he swallowed and slowly re-established the eye contact he'd broken.

"I'm trying to tell you, but I don't know how." He let out a frustrated huff of air and you could swear that there were tears starting to form in his golden eyes. "You have to understand," he begged, and this time you knew his voice definitely cracked, "I've never done this before." He looked down at you with such a softness that you could feel every ounce of hatred starting to leave.

"Stop looking at me like that." You whispered, pleading with him as you tried to grasp onto the feeling of hating Tsukishima Kei. The feeling that was slipping through your fingers. The one feeling that had been protecting you from him.

"I can't." He sighed and started again.

"Y/n, I don't want anyone else to see you the way that I see you. to see how you nibble on your bottom lip when you're trying to keep up with taking notes in class. To see how you look when your fingers subconsciously change your hairstyle at least three times a day. And every time I look back at you it's like something about you has changed because of it.

"I don't want anyone else to look at you the way that I do, to see you in every state and still be filled with the same feelings. To live off of your need to reply to every sarcastic word I give you with one of your own. I don't want anyone to struggle to gather their thoughts around you the way that I do. I don't want anyone to steal glances at you when you're not paying attention."

He groaned in frustration as you looked up at him with wide eyes, trying to process what he was saying to you. "Dammit!" He shouted and turned his head to break the eye contact again. But his hands never left your face. "It pisses me the hell off that I can't stop fucking looking at you." He turned his head back to look at you again.

"Please don't leave yet." He whispered the plea, leaning down to bring his forehead to yours. "I don't fucking hate you." His eyes searched yours for confirmation, for resistance as he went to close the gap between your lips. You didn't offer any. You let your eyes fall shut as his lips brushed against yours softly. "I fucking wish I did."

You gasped into his kiss as his hands cupped your face softly. He didn't make you lean up far to kiss him like he usually did, instead bending to your height, meeting you where you were, molding his body to yours instead of the other way around. His body trying to beg you to stay. He didn't have to. You weren't leaving.

The warmth that was filling your body was different than the usual heat that came when he touched you. His hands that usually seared their brands into your skin now smoothed over your body and left a softer warmth in their wake. A feeling that spread across your skin like wildfire without any pain, consuming you from the outside before filling up your insides.

His hands fell from your face and traced softly down your sides until they rested on your hips, drawing you closer. "Please." He mumbled against your lips as his fingers found the hem of your shirt. You stepped back and pulled the shirt from your body before finding your way to his lips again.

"Wanna show you." He whispered the words into your lips before moving to your neck, kissing the skin softly. The feelings that were gracing your skin left you gasping for air, completely foreign coming from him. Foreign but completely welcome.

His fingers unclipped your bra clumsily, none of his usual smoothness present as his fingers trembled against your bare skin. Like it was the first time he was touching you. His grip came to your ribs, his fingers splaying out, covering as much space as they could as if trying to touch every inch of your skin.

"Kei." You moaned his name softly as he kissed across your collarbone. He brought his face back to meet your eyes and you could see his adam's apple bob as he gulped nervously. "Please." You whispered. It was the permission he needed. He connected your lips again, desperately parting yours with his tongue as he deepened your kiss.

He guided you easily back to his bed with a tenderness he'd never shown you before, easing you onto the mattress before climbing over you.

He hovered for a moment, eyes following as his fingers traced down your side to your hips to hook around your panties. His eyes burned into your skin as he looked at you silently, and you had to force yourself to stay put, to ignore the need to curl away from the intensity of it.

"You're so beautiful." Your eyes glassed over again and you were glad he didn't see it as he pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. His fingers passed over your skin lightly, his lips following, pressing soft wet kisses to your torso that had you letting out quiet breathy moans.

"I swear I was made just for you." He whispered as he pressed a final kiss into the divot of your hip. Your hips bucked lightly towards him, a gasp leaving your lips at the mix of his words and the attention to the sensitive spot. He pulled down your panties and his boxers quickly, moving to hover over you again.

His lips connected to yours again and you wound your arms around his neck, trying to pull him closer to you as he lined himself up with your entrance. "I love you, y/n." He whispered the confession against your lips, letting you breath it in as he pushed into you slowly.

The feeling of him filling you up again left both of you moaning into each other's mouths, unable to tell which sound was elicited from you. It had only been minutes since he was last inside of you, but this time, it felt so much different.

You let the last sliver of hatred for Tsukishima Kei slip out of your system as he moved slowly against you. Drawing out as he pushed his tongue inside of your mouth and drinking in your moans as he pushed back in, slowly.

"Could never feel as good as I do with you." He whispered, one of his hands lifting your hips slightly, changing the angle he pushed into you at.

"Fuck Kei." You gasped out at the sensation, head falling back against the pillows as he head of his cock brushed against your g-spot.

"Nothing sounds as sweet as when you say my name." He whispered into your neck as he repeated his motion, pulling another soft moan of his name from your lips.

"You're so fucking beautiful." He groaned, head falling into the crook of your neck as he panted against your skin. You could feel his weight shift, he tried to keep it mostly off of you while trying to ensure as much of your skin touched as possible. "You're an angel sent to me." You felt yourself tighten around him as you gasped and he let out a soft moan.

"Kei." You whined as you felt his fingers find their way to your clit, dipping to collect some of your combined arousal before rubbing tight circles around it. "Please."

You whimpered as you felt your orgasm start to build from the way his cock brushed perfectly against your insides in a steady rhythm. Soft curses and moans fell from your lips as he continued the languid pace, no rush between you this time, just letting your bodies fit together on their own terms.

"I'm all yours." He mumbled into your ear. You turned your head and caught his lips with yours again, open-mouthed kisses mixing the sounds of your moans. "Please, let me be all yours." He begged into your mouth and you nodded mindlessly. He pulled away a fraction, "just say the words," his voice cracked as you felt his thrusts stutter.

"Mine." You whispered back, kissing him again. You gasped as you tightened your arms around him. "You're mine." You whimpered and his fingers picked up their pace between your bodies. Your back arched up into him and you whined into the kiss, feeling yourself start to tip over the edge.

"Cum with me, please." He begged, voice whining into your mouth as he sent you both tumbling over. Your body tensed up, tightening around him as his hips lost their rhythm and he spilled into you.

He held himself inside of you with a grip on your hips as he continued to kiss you. He kissed you as you settled from your dizzying release, all of your emotions crashing over you both.

When he finally pulled out and rolled off of you, you were still panting for air. Trying, still, to get a grasp on what had just happened as emotion after emotion tidal waved over you.

"Please," he whispered, and looked over at him - really looked at him.

His blond hair was damp and messy, sticking up in a way that you were sure only you were allowed to see. His golden eyes were watching you carefully through the frames of his glasses, slightly glazed over but analyzing your movements like they always did.

His face was softer than it usually was, like it was when he was listening to music and thought no one else was around. There was no glare that furrowed his eyebrows together, not even the smirk that you loved so much was painted on his lips. The lips that were panting just like yours.

The ones that had spilled the words 'I love you' just minutes ago.

His fingers finding yours brought you back to reality again. "Please stay with me." He begged, you realized that he still thought you were going to leave as his fingers wove into yours, gently squeezing.

"I know that I'm hard to love," he whispered, water gathering in the corners of his eyes, "but please, please stick it out." He refused to break eye contact as you let him pull your body closer gently. "I swear that I'll be better."

You sighed and moved closer to him, settling your head under his chin. You could feel his body tense for a second before his arms wrapped around your frame.

"For someone so intelligent," you whispered, letting your fingers trace along his collarbone, watching the goosebumps that appeared under them, "you really can be such a dummy." You sighed and kissed his skin softly, pressing one to every small freckle on his skin that you could see.

"I never hated you." You mumbled out and lifted your head to look him in the eyes again, so he could see the sincerity in them as you said your next words.

"I've always loved you Tsukishima Kei." You pressed your lips to his and you both let out the breaths that you'd been holding, your emotions flooding into the kiss. "Only you."

Bonus: 

You sat on the bench in the mall quietly, your knees pulled up to your chest and your face resting in your hands as you watched an excited Shoyo pull his girlfriend up to an ice cream cart as she wore a faux-annoyed look on her face, only smiling at him when she thought no one except he was looking. You smiled and tugged on the sleeves of the oversized jacket you were currently sporting, the one that was sizes too big for you and smelled of your favorite scent.

You sighed and stood up slowly, letting your limbs untangle themselves and your jacket fall down over your leggings. You'd gotten here earlier than you'd meant to which meant that you were stuck third-wheeling with Shoyo and Amaya while you waited for the rest of your ragtag group to appear.

You didn't have to wait long before Aiko was slinging an arm around your shoulder and pinching at the loose fabric of the jacket with two fingers.

"Whose is this?" She questioned, tilting her head as she inspected it. "It looks really familiar." You laughed a little and went to answer, only to be cut off by another voice.

"Yeah, I feel like I've seen it before." Tobio was now standing on the other side of you with a thoughtful look on his face as he joined Aiko in the inspection of the item of clothing.

"It's mine." Kei's emotionless statement send all four of your present friends into what you're sure was a short circuit. It only heightened the effect when he pulled you back from the two by your sides and wrapped his arm around your waist, lightly pinning you against him.

"Why are you touching her?" He glared at Tobio from over your head but you laughed and lightly hit Kei's chest, calming him down as you made contact with him.

He looked down at you, a soft smile gracing his lips before he cleared his throat and his lips turned back into a straight line. The only thing still giving him away was the slightly pink tips of his ears as he pulled you further from Tobio and closer to where Tadashi was now standing with Aiko.

"When did this happen!" Aiko shrieked and you were suddenly aware that all of your friends were finally appearing just in time to gawk at Kei's arm wrapped around your waist.

You opened your mouth to try and explain but were cut off by Amaya's voice this time. "Yeah, well, we knew you were fucking, but no one thought you'd actually go public with it." Your jaw dropped and Kei awkwardly cleared his throat.

You felt your face heat up as your grip on Kei tightened. "I think I kinda want some food now." You awkwardly tried to change the subject and create a getaway from the impending questions.

"I could grab some if you'd like." Tobio offered and you quickly shut it down as Kei turned to him with a glare.

"No," you laughed as you began pushing Kei lightly towards the food court, "no it's okay. We'll be back." You walked quickly away from the protesting of Tadashi and Aiko who were demanding explanations of you and let out a loud sigh as you got out of earshot. "I don't want to go back."

You looked up at Kei who was glaring over you towards Tobio still.

"Do you forget he had a girlfriend and is just being nice to me?" He froze and his glare slowly softened as his eyes trailed back to yours. You smiled as his cheeks flushed a little and he grumbled under his breath. "Still just a dumb lamppost," you teased with a smile.

He rolled his eyes as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you in easily. The smirk that you loved so much making its way onto his lips as he towered over you. "Keep talking, you little shrimp."

TAGLIST - CLOSED

@tetsuskei @universal-s1ut @cl-0-vr @kei-tsuki21 @ezraslights

@integers

[daycourtofficial]

Chains around my demons, wool to brave the seasons

Pairing: Eris x Rhysand’s sister!reader | WC: 7.2k | warnings: depictions of violence, poison, death, blood, slight gore

Summary: Eris tells his mate to stay with his mother, the Lady of Autumn, while he sets plans into motion to become the new High Lord.

Note: this is apart of my gingerfucker series and is a companion piece to ‘Cold was the steel of my axe to grind’.

Author’s note: happy day 3 of @erisweekofficial - it’s the best day of the year!

A cold chill racked through your body, something tugging in your chest causing you to wake up. The scent of burnt cedar and apple cider filled your nose. Wide eyes investigated the room around you as you stayed still, the brown walls unfamiliar to you. The spike of anxiety was quickly soothed as you spotted a redhead a few feet from you, the bright hair calling to you like a flame.

You softly pulled yourself from bed, silently observing him as he moved about the room, his steps quiet as he thought you slumbered. The bond in your chest hummed at seeing him, so happy to be so close to him. You stood with the blanket around your shoulders, arms crossed waiting for him to notice you.

The minimal light that caused his torso to shine dulled your joy at seeing him.

“What are you doing?” Your voice was hoarse from sleep, but it stopped him immediately, your mate frozen in place before he turned to face you. Warmth crept over you beneath his gaze, blocking out the cold air.

“Going for a stroll.”

Your eyes roamed his body, trying to convey without words how idiotic that excuse was. Did he think that excuse would actually work? He moved closer, his steps deceptively quiet with all that he wore. He placed whatever items he was carrying on the bed behind you before he reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his mouth opening and closing as if he were unsure where to start. You waited, not pressing for more detail, knowing he’d open up to you.

“Please.”

It was all that came from him, despite the look in his eyes. Depths lay within them, a single word conveying so little and so much at the same time. Your mate was layers and layers of complexities, several centuries of a life you only saw tangentially. You knew Eris - your mate, the one whose song echoes through your ribcage whenever you woke every morning, the one you spent centuries to earn his trust. But you had never seen this version of him in person before - the one who held his side of the bond on a tense lockdown, a fortress not allowing any feeling in or out. The one who does what he has to to survive. You can know something about someone and never have to see it.

He was imperceptibly different. His hair tousled as he had been pulling and tugging at it. The purple and blues beneath his eyes, the wild energy he had about him. 

Everywhere he went, Eris carried an air about him that screamed I know how this ends. The air often contorted around him, as if it blew in his favor. But now he stood with an air of unease around him, no breeze to stroke his ego as he moved.

Every other part of his body was honed and trained for this. Muscles taxed and well-defined from years of use, a determination in his jaw that he would see this through to the end. 

But his eyes always gave him away.

Mor had once described his eyes as a pit of despair, a never ending labyrinth of pain and suffering. She was right, but she had the wrong intentions. She thought he was the beast within the maze, searching for his next meal, the darkness pushing him forward. But Eris played both parts to that story: the beast and whoever was unlucky enough to be trapped within. He had been stuck in a labyrinth of suffering and his eyes shone with light from the exit.

You watched as his fingers trailed over the features of your face, his touch leaving a trail of heat on your skin. Your gaze took in everything about him - his sunken shoulders, the fire simmering in his eyes, the thousands of freckles you once spent an entire evening comparing to the constellations.

“My mate.”

You never thought belonging to someone would feel so freeing. Your parents were mates -  growing up you watched your father always sling that phrase around as if your mother was merely an accessory to him. She wasn’t yours or Rhys’s mother, nor was she her own person, but rather a vessel for your father to use whenever he found it appropriate. 

Eris made the words sound decadent, a place of honor, the greatest title one could receive. As if it were a second name that had been etched into your soul and only he could discern the engraving.

“Stay with my mother. Please.”

An argument laid on the tip of your tongue, staying there as you took in how he looked at you, his eyes betraying him only to you. His shoulders straightened as he looked at you. Holding his gaze, your mind swirled with thoughts to go with him, to be with him. You were a pair, bounded by fate through this life and the next. 

His eyes were pleading to stay, as if you could make out the word in smoke reflected through his irises. Your mouth closed before you nodded, your decision finalized as he gripped your jaw lightly. 

Eris kept all of his plans close to his chest, a quality you admired but also loathed about him. You weren’t sure if he got lucky or was incredibly clever. A mixture of both, perhaps. Maybe that mixture is what has brought Eris here, what has led him to this moment, this opportunity. He’s outlived two brothers, survived centuries of horrific events he only just recently began opening up about, two wars, and being held captive underneath Amarantha. 

Eris was cunning and intelligent. Despite his sharp tongue, he does care about the people of Autumn and his brothers and mother. 

But you would be lying if it didn’t keep you up at night when the luck would end, when Beron would find out about some hidden scheme and go too far to punish Eris.

You had taken your step forward to that fate, Rhysand discovering your secret mateship and being so furious at your refusal to step down that he banished you from his court. You had made your move and now he had to make his. This was Eris’s fight. This was Eris’s father. A male so awful in public to the point you wondered constantly how far his cruelties extended to in the privacy of the Forest House - his servants, his family, courtiers. Perhaps his cruelty contained no bounds, opting to injure anyone if it meant progress or amusement for him.

Eris clutched your face, this brief moment of time extending into a small eternity. The fate of the day was unknown. His arms wrapped around you, clutching you to his chest as you wrapped your arms around his back, fingers gripping the armor, searching for something to grasp onto. The string that tied the two of you together pulled taut, begging for there to be no space between your bodies as you clutched each other.

The last moment of vulnerability before a coup.

He pulled away just enough to cup your jaw, his warm lips meeting your own. Your hands moved up into his hair, clinging desperately to him, giving everything you have to him, wanting him to tuck it away somewhere and give him some form of protection.

Eris was the first one to pull away, his thumb swiping your cheek as he slowly pulled his head back before moving up to give one final kiss on the top of your head. He pulled away, your heart leaping at your rib cage, reaching for him as he collected his things from the bed and departed without looking back.

You stood in the quiet room, not moving from the spot he had left you in, watching the sun rise through the light streaking in across the door. It brushed across your skin, the warmth an echo of Eris’s heat. The hustle and bustle of servants on the other side of the door finally jolted you from your ruminations, your mind pulling from your heart’s desire to lay in his bed, inhaling his scent until he returned. 

You were in the dark about Eris’s plans, stuck to wait until Marigold found you. You were ill-equipped for front line fighting in Autumn: you had no armor and little experience fighting fire wielders, and while you were skilled enough in hand to hand combat, it was nearly impossible for you to know who was friend or foe to Eris. An entire court made of sly foxes, several of them who would salivate at the knowledge the Princess of the Night Court was in their midst. You had a handful of names of those you could trust, but no faces to match them to. So you waited for the one person Eris has always said you could trust no matter the circumstances. 

Eris had slipped out into the darkness, off to set plans into motion you were certain nobody knew the full extent of, everyone involved getting their own sliver of orders and nothing more.

It was morning now and you had cracked open his window, offering prayers to the stars, the moon, the Mother, the cauldron, ancient war gods whose names had been lost to time. All beings who existed outside of your sight at the moment, but you hoped they could hear you nonetheless. You even sent some words to your own mother, hoping wherever she was, she too would watch over your mate.

Wait for my mother.

It was all you clung to as you waited until your voice had grown hoarse with spoken prayer, one task you could accomplish, no matter how impossible it felt. You turned your attention toward Eris’s desk - a neat and tidy thing that you were sure contained several hidden compartments, many nights spent staring at various parchments, writing letters to you. You wondered briefly if he kept your letters somewhere, a hidden stash bundled together, any hint of your scent having been removed from repeated reading and rereading.

That had been your downfall. But you were a much more sentimental creature than Eris was. The letters would be a trail, a link between the two of you. A link one couldn’t afford. Your chest panged in agony at the notion that Rhys likely hard burned your letters, the ones you could recite from memory now. The ones that would have been the only physical proof of your bond if things don’t go well today. 

You shook your head, needing it clear as you grabbed parchment and a pen, writing quickly with only slight hesitation. It was early - the sun was barely risen, and you were certain if he were out he would be in shortly. You didn’t even bother creating a seal - it didn’t need one, and matches weren’t something Eris likely kept around.

You sent the letter off before you could second guess yourself, hoping he would understand and come anyway. You didn’t know what the day would yield, but something in your gut churned at the thought of him not being here. You had pleaded in your letter that things were in motion you couldn’t stop and there was potential for loss of life - from both you and the servants and children who occupied the Forest House. 

You prayed his need to protect and help would override the immense anger he was feeling. Your mate would be livid if he found out, but he would get over it. You both were making choices today, and any choice that furthered your safety isn’t one Eris could be too upset about. 

A knock on the door pulled you from your ruminations, turning to find a young female opening the door but not entering. Her light brown hair was wrapped around her head in an elaborate braid, a simple smock covering the brown, high neck dress that covered her body.

She bowed to you, a slight curtsy as she dropped, “morning, miss. My Lady wishes to see you.”

You looked her over, noticing no weapons from what outlines the clothes afforded her. She stood out with how plain she looked - maybe the Vanserras stood out with how ornately they dressed.

“No.” Her brown eyes widened, her mouth opening to argue, but you continued. “If she wishes to see me, she will come here.”

Eris gave you three warnings: stay safe, stay with Marigold, and if you feel the bond die, get the Hel out of Autumn. 

Two of those were implied, but you knew him well enough to know what he would want. You weren’t certain about the last two points, but the first you could comply with. This room was warded - only those who shared Eris’s maternal line or a mate could enter, and you’d be damned if you weren’t going to use what Eris had given you to your advantage.

The servant bowed unceremoniously before shuffling off, closing the door before her quick footsteps moved down the hall. A few moments later a soft knock caused you to turn before the Lady of Autumn herself entered the room, her long red hair making her both enchanting and comforting to look at. Eris’s brothers all carried elements of Marigold in their faces, Cormac even carried the soft edges of her voice with him.

But Eris was his mother’s son. 

It had been years since you last saw her - the last High Lord’s meeting when Feyre had lost control. She had looked so downtrodden then, as if pain didn’t faze her, a reality of everyday life. The sight had nearly made you nauseous, dreams littered for the next few months of a similar fate for you should Beron discover your mateship.

The female that stood before you today looked resolute and determined. She was practically glowing with excitement, but her eyes held the same look that Eris’s did whenever his mind was overflowing with possibilities.

“How lovely it is to properly meet my son’s mate.”

Her voice reminded you of your own mother, some maternal charm laced her words. A five minute conversation was likely all she needed before fae decided they trusted her completely, despite the personas her sons and husband wore to the public.

You bowed to her, offering a greeting fitting as visiting royalty. Visiting banished royalty, you supposed.

“Good morning, Lady Marigold.”

She curtsied deeply before rising. “Good morning, dear. I presume based on your presence here that your High Lord knows now.”

Her eyes were striking as they took you in - so lifeless the past few years, but now so bright and full of hope.

No one loves a boy quite like his mother does.

“You would be correct. I’m uncertain if he knows of my exact location, but he is less than thrilled about this Cauldron-made match and is in need of time to adjust.”

You could be diplomatic. Eris was off somewhere, Mother knew where, doing Mother knows what. But you had to be careful. Every step you took today had to be carefully placed - either for the outcome of your becoming Lady of Autumn or for becoming whatever Eris’s death will make of you.

She nodded her head as if she understood Rhysand’s feelings perfectly. “It was quite a shock to learn of. I had a hard time with it myself.”

You tried to keep the surprise off your face, not knowing that Eris ever told his mother about the two of you.

“It wasn’t Eris who told me.” 

You were worse at hiding your shock at that statement. Speaking to Marigold felt like she could hear the truth pouring out of you, as if your truths were whispered on the wind and straight to her ears. 

“It was that night all those years ago when the new High Lord of Spring brought you here.”

Memories dumped over you like a bucket of ice, that night only a few flashes and blurs of images, all red hair and blood. You never knew that she had been there that night.

“I didn’t know that things between you and my son had progressed. I knew you were mates, but Eris has always been a startling private person.”

She stood with such poise it was impossible to compare her with the shell she was the last time you had seen her.

“It was my youngest who told me the two of you were still involved.”

Lucien, you thought. Slimy little devil.

Lucien was the only one who knew - he had found out a few months prior having caught the scent of his brother lingering on one of your cloaks. You had been so furious with yourself - a century of hiding meant nothing when a little brother became invested.

“He was quite thrilled at the match, actually.”

That surprised you. Lucien had been quite short with you when he found out, that mechanical eye whirring and clicking at you as if it were admonishing you in a tongue you didn’t understand.

“He was hopeful for you to become a part of this family. Hopeful that perhaps a new addition may help us recognize how awful things have become.” 

She walked about the room, looking at the walls you were certain she had seen for centuries as if for the first time, her leisurely stroll giving no indication of the time crunch you were all in.

“My family is… not what I expected when I was young and full of dreams.” Her voice was just as sweet, but lost in the haze of centuries of time. “I had dreamt of a loving husband. I knew children were expected of me, but I could never imagine the direction my life would take.”

Her voice soured, that honey glazed warmth of nostalgia was replaced with something close to a reprimand.

“I will not pretend as if I know you or your motivations with my son, but I know Lucien. He is the most like me. At least, a long forgotten version of myself.” She took a staggering breath before continuing, her stride uninterrupted as she paced around you. “I know my sons. And while I don’t want to believe Eris could be fooled, mating bonds are tricky, overpowering things. One could fool Eris or Lucien, but not both of them.”

She fixed her eyes on you, looking for something you couldn’t see. It felt like being beneath the gaze of Lucien’s mechanical eye with a lack of clicking to accompany the scrutiny.

“Do not take their trust lightly.”

You nodded, swallowing harshly. She was very maternal, but there was something lurking beneath the surface you couldn’t pinpoint. It felt full of resentment, as if her perfumey smell was an attempt to cover up some rotten part of her long forgotten.

“Yes, Lady.”

“For today, you may call me Marigold.”

“And tomorrow?”

“If there is a tomorrow for the both of us, we shall figure that out.”

-

You had just a moment to yourself in Marigold’s chambers, opting to use it to send an additional letter, letting him know that if he didn’t come now, it’d be next to impossible to find you again.

Other than Eris, there was no one you trusted more. You fiddled with your bodice, ensuring it was in place as you waited, your hands straightening the front of your skirt, itching to tug at the collar of your dress. It felt suffocating, like you couldn’t take a proper breath.

A cool breeze came through the room before he materialized in the shadows of the room behind you. You turned to meet his hazel eyes full of anger as they looked up and down your form, taking in the plain servants clothes you wore. You quickly moved to turn on the faucet, blasting the water as harshly as it would go.

“Hi Az.” You waved a hand slightly, attempting to dispel his cold anger that flooded the room.

He didn’t move, hardly a corporeal form as only his face was tangible through the shadows.

“I need your help. Please.”

Anger swam in his eyes, undeterred by the pleading in your voice. He stood silently, the shadowy blob staying in place and it was then you realized he was waiting for more information.

“I need you to just follow me. In the shadows. I don’t know what the day will entail,” your voice was hushed, trying not to be heard over the running faucet, “but I wanted you nearby in case anyone got hurt.”

His eyes still burned with fury, but one of his wings twitched ever so slightly before his body melted into a pool of shadow that swam around your feet. You decided that was the best outcome to receive from him before you looked once more in the mirror, using a glamour to hide your violet eyes before you left the bathroom.

You followed Marigold out of her chambers, the glamour over your eyes making your vision slightly murky. Violet eyes would give you away, but light brown eyes caused you to blend in with the other staff of the Forest House.

The two of you had a mission - starting from the top and trickling through all of Beron’s more trusted advisors. This was always her initial plan to help Eris, but it felt good to assist her as she had meetings with each and every one of them throughout the day. She had been ruthless this morning before retrieving you, practically bullying these males into seeing her for a cup of tea at some point during the day. 

She developed a routine with each one, as if she were in a performance that she had been doing nightly for years. You would follow in behind her as she sat with whoever it was, the males much too worried about Beron to deny his wife anything. They had an air of annoyance about the disruption, but Marigold never stayed long enough to let it fester beyond that. 

It was perfectly choreographed - her insistence that they try this new delightful tea she had been working, your bow before pouring it for them. You used your own powers of charm to aid Marigold’s, manipulating the emotions of the unsuspecting advisors to feel fully at ease, enticing them to drink the tea.

It was genius, truly. She told you she had been doing this for years, spending her free time experimenting with different tea flavors, noting who liked what flavors to better entice them when the time came. Ultimately she had four different flavors, most every advisor drinking from the cup readily.

Each time you listened for them to slump from their desk as you walked through the halls, quickly locking the door behind you to keep them from being disturbed before bustling after Marigold’s retreating form. 

It was lucky the males didn’t look too closely at the new servant girl with a dark shadow trailing her figure.

-

It had taken hours, but you and Marigold had made it through your list of adversaries to take out. The only ones you weren’t able to take down were those that were scattered throughout Autumn, too far to reach, but Marigold assured you Eris had them taken care of in one way or another. 

The Forest House was calm as you slipped into Eris’s chambers, Azriel barred at the door. The shadow remained on the floor as you chuckled, agitation clear at the shadows movement on the ground. You waited as he moved across the hall, searching the room before returning, a silent request to follow. You quickly obliged, shutting the door behind yourself before the shadowy blob on the floor took more of an Illyrian look as he towered over you, his wings tight in agitation.

“I know you’re mad but-“

“Mad? I’m furious. I- him? Him? I’ve been following you around all day to ensure you didn’t die.”

You understood where he was coming from - you did little to help Eris’s reputation amongst the Inner Circle over the years, but the bond inside of you still yearned to claw at Azriel’s face for how he was speaking about your mate. A hand ran over your face, a deep breath to soothe the bond within you.

“Yes, well, the night is far from over, Azriel. I need your help to ensure the children and servants are safe. I don’t know how this will play out-”

“Oh, you don’t know how this will play out?” His eyes were wide with rage, his words clipped as he interrupted you. “You mean your “mate” didn’t tell you the details of his plan?”

His fingers went up in air quotes around the word ‘mate’ and it made you see red as you slapped a hand over his mouth. “Shut up, Azriel. I don’t know the specifics of this plan-”

He laughed through your hand, pushing it off of him. “Of course you don’t - he’s fooled you! He’s using you to-”

“To what, Azriel? Protect the defenseless fae inside the Forest House? Oh no, he’s so terrible.”

Your tone was mocking. The shadowsinger began tugging at his hair, looking away from you. 

“How long?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes it matters.” He was quick to whirl around, his eyes wild in fury. “You have been lying to your family, to me, for gods know how long!”

It was silent between the two of you, the only sound was his heavy breathing. You toed the ground slightly, knowing exactly how this conversation will go.

“Do you remember the night my wings were cut off?”

The words sent Azriel spiraling, the scent of copper and fear tinging his nose. It was always there, lurking in the back of his mind. His wings branched out, urging him to grab you and fly far, far away from here.

“No.”

It had never made sense before. His one word was full of disbelief, his face slacken with shock.

“Az, Tamlin found me and-“

Azriel used his hands to block his ears, “no, you have to be kidding me. This is a joke.”

Irritation rose in you at how childish he was being, the large Illyrian before you looking absurd as he paced the room. “This is all some stupid joke that you’re pulling because you and Cassian thought it would be funny.”

You shook your head, shaking his shoulders slightly to get him to look at you.

“No because that- I always knew something was off I-“

He was spiraling, his thoughts a whirlwind of realizations and things he overlooked. Several moments passed before he finally looked down at you, eyes full of understanding. “I have spent centuries trying to figure out that night. How I found you in a clearing not far from the site.”

Your silence was enough for him to determine your guilt, the final piece clicking into place.

“You lured me away. You manipulated me into feeling calm and not looking at what I knew made no sense!”

You bit your tongue. It was the one loose thread that could unravel your careful secret. It was the one thing you felt awful about over these centuries.

Any mention of that night immediately caused you to gauge Azriel’s emotions, never allowing them past sadness or grief over the events. 

Rhys and Cassian were too full of happiness that you had survived, never looking at the details. But Azriel thought over every last detail of events, even centuries down the line.

You felt the anger seep through the shield you kept up, allowing his emotions to swirl inside you.

Betrayal. Anger. Devastation.

His nails dug into the skin of his palm, and guilt washed over you. 

“It’s why you couldn’t find me until the next morning. Tamlin had brought me here because I kept asking for Eris.”

Azriel growled at the mention of your mate and you snapped your teeth back at him, the action surprising him, his shadows skittering in fear.

“He and Marigold healed me and the bond snapped for him but it didn’t snap for me until later. He is my mate and while the choices I made hurt you, I did it for him.”

He stepped back as if your words had physically wounded him, but you kept advancing forward, the truth finally spilling from your lips.

“You have every right to be upset with me and the choices I made. You are my family, Az. I hated lying to you. But he is my mate and anyone knowing would jeopardize our lives.”

He scoffed, standing his ground, but you could see understanding in his eyes.

“If anyone knew and it somehow had gotten back to Beron-“

His harsh tone cut you off. “Don’t try to convince me you did this for anything other than selfish reasons.”

“Okay fine, I was selfish! If Beron knew, he would have demanded that I be in Autumn. I spent years trying to figure something out. Everything would have ended up with Beron using me to keep Eris in line.”

His cheeks were red, from anger or being out of breath you couldn’t tell. “You could have told me. I would have helped. I’m a spymaster for cauldron’s sake! My job is full of secrets.”

“And maybe I wanted to keep you unburdened,” you snapped.

“You’re excusing your lies by not wanting to burden me? You’re unbelievable!” He threw his hands up in the air, anger seeping from his pores. Angry at the betrayal and maybe a little at his own shortcoming for not figuring it out.

“What I did was wrong, Az, but would you not have done the same?”

Azriel would think about this fight, many years later, his own mate wrapped in his arms. How resolute you had been in doing whatever you thought was necessary to protect your mate, even from the scrutiny of your own family. Time would soften his anger, offering a new perspective on your actions that can only come with shared experience. 

For now, he was so overcome with his anger it felt nearly impossible to even think about understanding your viewpoint.

“Even if tonight is a disaster, and Eris dies,” the thought has you catching your breath, the string connecting him to you almost cutting off your circulation, “it will all have been worth it for the chance to be with him.”

Azriel’s icy resolve met the determined look in your eye, his demeanor changing very little. Your argument was halted by screams in the hall, the unmistaken sound of  swords clashing with each other. His eyes shifted to the hallway the same time his hand moved toward Truth-teller strapped to his hip. His other hand moved to the dagger strapped to his chest, unsheathing it before handing it to you. His eyes didn’t move back down, still unable to look at you. But the dagger was a bridge. It was full of hope. You took it. It was also the preferred weapon of the Autumn Court, a fact you can’t decide if Azriel was thinking of when he picked it for you.

Azriel moved to the door, sending shadows beneath it to get a better grasp of what was going on outside of it. You heard distant barking and the sounds of fighting, swords clashing against one another in combat. Screams of pain and fear, none of them sounding like Eris.

“You and I will round up anyone not involved in this and we’ll bring them back here. Some of my shadows will stay behind, barring anyone from entering the room without our say so.”

He looked at you, his face hard and ready to move on your word. Azriel could hold a grudge so tightly it caused him to lose any sense of self, any sense of rationale. His anger often became an untamed thing - wild, free-roaming.

But he came. He came because you asked, certainly defying any orders from Rhysand about your punishment. You were sure your brother had told everyone not to engage with you - to not even speak your name until you came crawling back, begging for forgiveness. But there was one thing Azriel would always put above his court - his family.You took a deep breath before nodding, the sounds of life and death getting louder as Azriel opened the door. 

“I’ll go left, you go right.”

You turned to move, but Azriel grabbed your elbow, unwilling to let go. “We move together or we don’t move at all.”

His gaze was unflinching and you knew the two of you didn’t have long at all until the winds of chaos picked the two of you up and whirled you into its orbit. You nodded and he followed as you went to the right, trying to find Marigold’s chambers once more. 

The two of you moved further from the clanging and screams, but the sounds were following you slowly as you moved down the hall, checking each room as you went. Some of Azriel’s shadows moved ahead of you, searching each room up and down as you went. 

A few doors down, a shadow wrapped around your wrist, tugging you to a door on the left. You softly padded in, looking around the empty bedroom, calling out a soft hello to whoever was in here. The shadow swirled past you, moving toward the wardrobe that stood in the room. You felt someone in it, felt their nerves speak through you as you sent soothing strokes to them, calming their heart rate as you spoke.

“We’re here to help. We can get you to safety.” The anxiety spiked in the person once more, your powers working to soothe them again. “Really, we are. We just want to move you to another room that we have protected.”

Azriel remained quiet, tucking his wings into his back to appear much smaller. The person in the wardrobe shifted, the creak in the wood giving their spot away. Your voice was a soothing balm, a siren-like quality to the way it called out, “please, we won’t hurt you.”

The wardrobe door swung open, a small boy of probably ten crouched inside, hiding behind several long forgotten coats. You held out a hand, which he gladly took as you helped him from the wardrobe.

“We’ve secured a room for anyone we find. Can we take you there?”

He nodded, flinching at a loud sound from the other side of the door. You continued your grip on his hand as you led him down the hall to the room, the shadows moving to allow the three of you entry.

“What’s your name?”

He sniffled, fidgeting with his jacket, looking around the dark room. “Jasper.”

“Jasper, we have to go find others who may be hurt. But we need you to stay here. You’ll be safe.”

He looked up at you, bright golden eyes pleading for you to stay. 

“It’ll be scary, but we have to try to save as many fae as possible. Do you understand?”

He nodded, his eyes looking all over the place. His cheeks were red and stress oozed out of him with every inhalation.

“Jasper, we will be back. We’ll come back with others.”

Azriel grabbed your elbow, pulling you away from the boy. Jasper nodded, his dirty blonde hair shaking with the action. Your chest caved a little at leaving him, but Azriel was right to pull you away. Back outside the door, once the shadows reappeared as a barrier, you blinked away the tears before looking back at the shadowsinger.

The two of you continued moving, dodging the sounds of chaos as you moved through the enormous house, finding servants and whatever bystanders you could. The fighting lasted for hours, yours and Azriel’s hunt for innocent fae lasting as long as possible. The two of you even had to secure a second room on the opposite end of the house because the first became so overcrowded.

The halls were in a state of chaos - furniture was everywhere, broken bits of wood littered the floors. The two of you tried to keep pathways clear, moving broken bits out of the way for safer passage. The two of you were bringing someone back to your safe room - a young female - when a harsh tug on your chest brought tears to your eyes, the bond feeling so strong since it was quieted. You turned to Azriel, words getting lost as a tear fell down your cheek. Your chest whirled with emotions, a constant tugging calling you away.

“Thank you.”

For coming, for his eternal friendship, for his loyalty, for everything. 

He nodded, still too mad to accept any gratitude for his presence. “Are you going to tell him about what you got up to tonight?”

You couldn’t even say his name, still so incredibly pissed off at him and how he handled everything. How the past 24 hours have seen a complete change in not only yourself or your mate, but an entire court, all of Prythian forever changed.

“He knows very little of how I spend my nights, and he made his feelings about you very clear yesterday.”

His eyes softened as he looked at you as if seeing you truly for the first time. Despite his anger at you, you surged forward and wrapped your arms around his torso, squeezing him tightly to you. He folded around you, his shadows swirling around you as he deepened the hug. 

“Please, never wear brown again. Red and orange suit you much better.”

It was a peace offering. You didn’t know how long he’d stay mad at you, and everything in you wanted to hold him close to you until he forgave you. But this was centuries of lies, half-truths, and emotional manipulation. Things you knew Azriel had to work through. You could practically see him in his study, late at night hunched over journals going through the past century in hopes of untangling your lies.

Tonight proved two impossibles: Azriel helping Eris ascend the throne, even in such a minor way, and Eris finally defeating Beron.

You squeezed him one last time, muttering more thanks into his chest.

“I have to- to go find Eris.”

His arms slackened as you pushed off of his chest, sprinting through the halls, not watching Azriel disappear back into the shadows, looking forward and following where the tug kept pulling you. Turning corners, jumping over overthrown chairs, ignoring fae until you came to grand doors to what you assumed was the throne room. The doors were slightly ajar and you pushed them open with reckless abandon, running in before quickly halting.

The scene before you was startling. Six heads of red hair, one on the ground not moving, one curled into someone’s lap, breathing heavily.

You nearly collapsed at the sight, your brain trying to parse out what you were seeing, but someone was quick to hold you up. Lucien’s dark chest blocked your view, and you quickly pushed at him, your feet carrying you until you saw Eris’s face downturned to the body in his arms.

“Eris.”

He didn’t act like he could hear you. He kept shushing his brother, holding him tight in his arms. The room was coated in grief, the smell of blood so pungent your head began spinning. You looked to Beron’s body, finding a gruesome scene of a decapitation, his head nowhere to be found. The room was quiet, not even the sound of feet shuffling in anticipation could be heard.

Marigold appeared from behind you, rushing as she moved to the male in Eris’s arms.

“Flint,” Marigold cooed. You couldn’t see her well, your knees had sunk to the floor behind Eris. You rested your head against his back, the armor so cold against your skin. You listened to Eris’s breaths, letting them calm the surge of emotion inside of you.

Alive, alive, alive.

“Come on, wake up. You have to tell her.”

Eris jostled beneath you, attempting to move his brother you were sure.

“I did it for you, Mother.” The voice was weak - Flint, most likely. He sounded so small, his heart aching with so much pain it made your throat close up. Big emotions coated the air in the room, forming a haze of grief, longing, and regret. So much regret. 

“I know, sweetheart.”

He coughed, his entire being so full of pain. You hated being around the dying. It was nearly impossible as an empath - the feelings of death were so powerful it was impossible to block them out. 

“It was all for you.”

He moved fully into Marigold’s lap now, but you remained fixed behind Eris. His armor began warming or perhaps it was getting accustomed to your temperature.

“I know, I know.”

You placed a hand on Eris’s back, rubbing softly as he gently cried into his brother’s head. Blood was pouring from his brother, covering Eris’s armor. Your fingers tangled in his hair, covered in dirt, sweat, and blood.

His eyes stayed on his brother, his chest moving slower and slower.

Lucien moved toward Beron, picking up the crown that had fallen from his head. It looked like an endless supply of berries and twigs, so enticing like you could pop one into your mouth. He moved toward Eris, his steps loud to ensure he was heard. He placed the crown on Eris’s head, reaching over you to do so. 

When Lucien pulled back, he gave you a pained smile. His own armor was covered in blood, but none of his movements looked painful. He looked so worn down, but the Autumn armor he adorned looked perfectly molded to him.

A true son of Autumn back even if for a short moment.

Flint stopped breathing in her grasp and once she knew he was gone, she began sobbing into his head. Your chest filled with emotions, nearly impossible to assign sources to. Every feeling spiderwebbed from your chest, pulling you to multiple fae at once, but you only focused on Eris, his breathing even save for the occasional shudders.

Marigold’s cries filled the room, none of the other brothers dry eyed. A song was being carried on the breeze, mixing with the Lady of Autumn’s cries to produce a haunting melody. As her cries softened, the song became louder. Your ears twitched in recognition, a tune that carried you off to sleep each night.

The song that tied your souls together was a duet and what played on the wind was Eris’s portion. It was deep and quick, a song that took many turns, carrying the listener on a journey. You looked toward Lucien, his raised eyebrows enough for you to know he heard it too.

It was a beautiful song. It sounded like when you were first mates - conversations that often led nowhere, the both of you too worried to be truthful. It sounded of midnight meetings, stolen glances, moments the two of you had tucked away so deep you weren’t sure where memory and dream bled together.

The song would carry you through your life. You had heard it through the worst moments imaginable. As your wings were cut through your body, the knife uncaring as it shredded through bone and skin. And it was one you would hear years from now, the song being carried on the wind, coming in through the open window the lull your babe to sleep. It was a bridge from the vastly different lives the two of you had led. 

The song would carry you everywhere you needed to go, the changing chords so familiar to you they would follow you in death. And yet every time you heard it, your heart filled with curiosity, wanting to know where the song would go next.

Divider by @tsunami-of-tears

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Eris taglist: @magicstrengthandcourage @book-obsessed124

[thebenjiblackwoodexpress]

Fire on Fire Part. 3

Aegon Targaryen x Reader

Description: Aegon made a promise to his niece 6 years ago that he would marry her. Separated by distance and the passage of time, Aegon still intends to keep his promise to the only girl he ever loved. When Rhaenyra returns with her children to King's Landing, Aegon hopes to get Y/N to fall in love with him all over again but quickly learns her heart may not be so easily won. So ensues an elaborate game of cat and mouse which Aegon is determined to win.

Previous part Dividers by @zaldritzosrose

Writer's note: Hiiiii! I'd recommend reading the previous 2 parts for context of when they were teenagers but you could probably read this as a standalone. There will be future parts. I've played around with time, so Rhaenyra and her kids spend around a week at KL before the events of Lord of the Tides.

Warnings: female reader with Targaryen features, targcest (uncle and niece), sexual innuendo, Aegon being fairly toxic and possessive at points. Childhood friends to lovers to enemies to lovers vibes. Aged up characters. Will be canon divergent. Aegon isn't a rapist in this because if Ryan Condal can write fanfiction, so can I.

The sky looked just as it had when he'd watched Y/N disappear into it on her dragon 6 years ago. Standing at the entrance to the Red Keep, in the same spot he had that very day, Aegon could almost pretend that no time had passed at all until he saw her step out of the carriage behind her mother, his sister. And it felt as if the breath had been knocked out of him. She was still Y/N, with the same silver hair that shone like a thousand glittering stars and the singular beauty he could only describe as cutting. But she was more mature now, her features more defined, a woman rather than the girl he had known and loved. He was much changed, too, and he wondered for a moment if Y/N would even recognise him now. But she was not even looking at him. Her lilac eyes were trained upon his brother Aemond, fixing upon the eye patch that concealed his scar. Don't look at him, Aegon thought. Look at me. And that same possessiveness he'd long held towards Y/N, for as long as he could remember, simmered to the surface.

As if he'd called her name, her eyes met his, widening slightly in recognition. The world around them seemed to fade away as they stood gazing at one another, and Aegon felt an uncontrollable need to be close to her suddenly. He wanted to touch her face, trace its contours, and measure the passage of time in their subtle changes. He wanted to pull her to him and wrap his arms around her, to press her body against his and see if it still felt like something inevitable and completely right. He wanted to kiss her and see if those lips that could speak such cold words could still feel like fire against his. But most of all, he wanted to talk to her, to hear her speak his name again, to hear her say anything. Y/N had been the first and last person to truly understand him. They had always been one in the same, and he wanted so badly to feel that familiarity once again. A sharp pain in his ribs jolted him out of his stupor as Aemond not so subtly jabbed him in his side.

"Aegon, won't you greet our guests?" His mother's voice sounded terse and strained. She must have tried to get his attention several times before he'd heard her.

Hands clasped behind his back he inclined his head towards Rhaenyra first.

"It's good to see you again, sister, nephews."

And it was. A part of him had always wanted to be close to his elder sister, though the tense relations between his mother and Rhaenyra had rendered this but a wistful dream. And he'd had a close friendship with Jacaerys in childhood. Though, any residual affection he had could not extend to Lucerys. He'd cost his own brother his eye, and Aegon had long blamed the boy for his separation from Y/N. He turned to his niece again, once more finding himself lost in the depth of her eyes.

"Niece." It was almost embarrassing how tender the appellation sounded in his mouth, and Aegon knew this had not been lost on those around him for he could see Aemond wince out of the corner of his eye.

"Uncle." By contrast, Y/N's voice was cold and devoid of any emotion, her gaze steely. Aegon's heart plummeted. He'd expected her anger might have waned in the 6 years they'd been apart, that she might have missed him as he had her, though perhaps not as acutely. He'd been quite certain that he'd loved her a great deal more than she loved him. But he still remembered the promise he had made to her on that fateful day at Driftmark when he'd taken her first kiss. He had said that he would marry her one day. Aegon intended to keep this promise and vye for her heart all over again. He had wanted one girl and one girl only his whole life and if she were still a little angry with him he was prepared to weather the storm, to take her ire in his stride and forge a path back into her heart. With renewed determination, he quirked his lips up at Y/N in a smile that was full of intention. He couldn't feel too sorry to have her frown back at him. She'd always been particularly beautiful to him when angry, blazing with an intensity only the stars could manage.

At supper, he noted that Y/N took up her old spot opposite him as if by habit. Though she said but little, and nothing at all to him, he had observed a slight pinkening of her cheeks as he'd continued to try and catch her eye all evening, prompting a satisfied smirk from him which she seemed to bristle at, steadfastly avoiding his gaze from then on. It seemed his niece was determined to play hard to get. Aegon was all too willing to accept the challenge, thoughts whirring in his mind of how best to get Y/N alone so she would have to speak to him.

Aegon was up earlier than he thought he'd ever been in his life, dressing quickly before the sun had even risen. He paced the floors of his chambers in nervous anticipation until he saw the first pinpricks of sunlight break through the blanket of the early morning sky. Then, he briskly walked to his niece's old chambers, where she'd happily been installed once again, much to his pleasure since it was but a short distance from his own.

He leant against the wall beside her door, preparing to wait for her until she emerged to break her fast. She couldn't very well deny him her company if he just happened to be in the vicinity of her chambers and offered her his arm to walk her to the morning room. He jumped slightly as her door opened with a soft click, having become lost in his thoughts as he waited. Lost in thoughts of her in truth, of what dress she might wear, of how her maids might have arranged her hair, and how she might react to his being right outside her chambers. The reality was far from what he had pictured, her eyebrows pulling together and her expression taking on a blackness he misliked. He'd always been good at reading her emotions, for she always wore them on her sleeve around him. This emptiness was unnerving to him.

"Good morrow, uncle."

Aegon tried not to be ruffled by her indifferent tone, only investing his own with more energy.

"Good morrow, Y/N. I thought we might head to the morning room together. My mother and sister would be pleased to break their fast with you there." He didn't rightly know whether they would. He didn't care, but it wasn't a bad ruse.

Holding his arm out to her in invitation and drawing up the most charming smile he could muster, Aegon silently pleaded with her to take his arm.

"Please offer them my apologies. I don't much like to eat early in the morning. Besides, my mother has requested my presence in her chambers."

Aegon's face fell, his arm dropping back to his side limply as he watched Y/N speed down the hallway away from him. She was lying, that much he knew. She simply didn't want to be in his presence, and that knowledge sent a jolt of pain through him. For the first time, Aegon considered that he might not be able to win Y/N back. Perhaps he'd been foolish to think they could start right where they'd left off, despite their estrangement of 6 years. He realised that in trying to protect his mother and brother at Driftmark, and in so doing inadvertently call Y/N a bastard, he might just have lost her for good. It didn't help that she'd returned in the first place to reaffirm Lucery's right to Driftmark once the Sea Snake passed. But he couldn't believe that. He couldn't give up on her, not without a fight. They'd played many games as children. Now, they would simply play another. If Y/N wanted a game of cat and mouse, then he would be obliging.

"Just the princess I was looking for."

Aegon smirked as Y/N nearly dropped the book she was holding. The clever minx probably thought it unlikely he should find her in here. But she must have forgotten all of the times he'd sought her out in the library in their youth, when he'd first realised he was in love with her and would have done anything to be at her side. His mind wandered to the feeling of her hand running through his hair as she'd read.

"What for?" It took Aegon a moment to understand what she was asking, though he quickly shook himself out of his reverie. He was hardly going to win Y/N over if he continued to just stare at her stupidly.

"I was hoping to get your recommendations on some reading material." At her look of incredulity, he slowly moved towards her. As he got closer, he noticed her taking minute steps backwards, her back hitting the bookshelf behind her as he came to a stop right in front of her.

"You? You want to read a book."

Aegon smirked at her.

"Don't look so surprised. I read to you once, didn't I?"

As if by fate he spotted the familiar spine of the book he'd once read aloud to her when she was overcome by a wave of seasickness and barely able to keep her eyes open. His voice had lulled her into a peaceful sleep.

Placing one hand on the bookshelf on one side of her as if to steady himself, he reached across her body with his other arm to grab the book, effectively encasing her in his arms. At her sharp intake of breath he smiled to himself, presenting the book to her innocently.

Y/N sounded a little breathless as she spoke.

"You remember?"

Aegon stepped closer, shifting his hand so that his fingers just grazed her bodice. He spoke so lowly she couldn't have heard him had he not lowered his head until theirs were nearly touching.

"I remember everything."

Y/N only stared at him with wide eyes at first, but he caught her gaze flicker briefly to his lips. Experimentally, he trailed his fingers down her side. A feather light touch, he didn't want to push his luck. And then she was stepping away from him, turning to the opposite book case and grabbing a thick and dusty book, which she promptly shoved against his chest.

"I think you'll like this one better."

And with that, she was scurrying away from him once again, her footsteps echoing against the stone floor of the library as she fled.

Looking down at the red tome in his hands, Aegon laughed. No one had been able to exact such a genuine sound from him in years.

Of course, she'd hand him the Book of Holy Prayer. Gods only knew what tales she'd heard of him to think he'd have need of such a thing. He placed it back in its rightful place on the shelf, he reclaimed the romantic novel he'd dropped as Y/N had forcibly shoved his arm away from her. As he left the library, the book under his arm, he winked at the maester, who'd just entered holding a bundle of scrolls. It had likely given the poor old fellow quite a fright to see Aegon of all people coming from the library, more still with a book tucked under his arm.

Perusing the novel that afternoon gave Aegon an idea of how he could convince Y/N to spend some time with him. He thought in time she might come to appreciate the deviousness of it. As they sat opposite each other at supper once again he addressed her directly.

"Y/N, I wondered if you might play a game of Cyvasse with me on the morrow. We used to enjoy playing together as children and I can have a board set up."

He caught Y/N exchanging a glance with Rhaenyra before turning back to him.

"I apologise, uncle. But I don't remember the rules."

Aegon's smile only grew at her refusal. He'd anticipated as much.

"I'd be more than happy to catch you up to speed."

Another curious look at her mother prompted Aegon to think she might actually be asking for her permission. It was evidently denied.

"Alas, I don't think I'll have any free time for games tomorrow. But thank you for the kind offer, uncle."

Time to put his plan into action, Aegon thought.

Lowering his voice and leaning across the table so no one else could hear him, he played his card.

"Y/N I'm starting to think you don't want to spend time with me. In which case I might be forced to recite some passages from one of your romance novels as this evening's entertainment."

His threat seemed to have had the desired effect as she gawped at him, mouth hanging open like a fish. Though a very comely fish, Aegon thought. The novel didn't have anything too damning in its pages, but it did contain a few rather silly passages he was sure Y/N would rather not be aired publicly.

She whispered through gritted teeth.

"You wouldn't dare."

Aegon smirked.

"Oh, I would." He started to rise from his seat as if to address the rest of the family sat around the dinner table before she promptly stomped on his foot under the table.

He hissed in pain, glaring at her.

"Seven hells Y/N."

The raucous they were making had earned them several looks from his mother, and sister, but they quickly returned to their conversations as he smiled blithely back at them.

"I'll play a game with you if you keep your mouth shut. OK?"

Aegon smiled brightly at Y/N's acceptance of spending time with him.

"Excellent, that wasn't so hard was it? I'll come by your chambers tomorrow to get you."

Y/N glared at him the rest of the night, seemingly trying to scorch him and turn him to cinders beneath her gaze. Aegon was simply pleased to have her full and undivided attention on himself. She wasn't looking at his brother now. She was looking at him.

Aegon thought Y/N remembered the rules of Cyvasse pretty well, considering she was currently sat across from him and thrashing him. What had looked like a small victory for him had quickly turned sour as he glumly looked a the board.

Y/N was comparatively gleeful, with a self-satisfied look gracing her features.

"The rules seem to have come back to you, niece."

Taking another one nof his castles, Y/N leant back and smiled broadly at him.

"I think you're just bad at this game, uncle. Your problem is that you never have a strategy."

Aegon's hand hovered over the board as he considered his next move, but he looked across it into her eyes at her assumption.

"You'd be surprised. I'd say I have a pretty clear idea of what I want and what I have to do to get it."

His mouth upturned as he saw her swallow down a retort.

He gasped suddenly, pointing behind her at nothing at all. As she whipped her head around he quickly reached across the table separating them and made a grab for her trebuchet piece, concealing it within a closed fist. She turned back towards him with an air of suspicion, looking from him to the board and back to him again as he presumed an air of innocence.

"Ah, perhaps I was mistaken. I thought I saw..."

"What piece have you taken, Aegon?"

He grinned at her. That was the first time she'd said his name since she'd arrived.

He presented the piece to her, quickly retracting it when she made a grab for it.

"I'll give it back to you if you give me something I want in return."

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him. He knew she was too competitive to abandon a game mid-play. She'd want to see it through and so she'd humour his request.

"What do you want?"

Aegon leant towards her, so close her breath was fanning his face as she followed his movements. He raised his free hand to curl a tendril of her hair around his fingers.

"I want you to take a stroll in the garden with me on the morrow." It seemed like the type of thing lovers would do in Aegon's mind, at least the type of lovers he'd read about in Y/N's books. So he thought she might like it. He wanted to do all of the things that happened in her books with her, if that was the type of love she sought. If she'd only let him.

Y/N let out a shuddering breath as if she'd been holding it waiting to hear what he'd request.

"Is that all?"

With a final stroke of her hair he dropped his hand and leant back in his chair.

"That's all."

"No."

Aegon quirked his eyebrow up, not having expected her refusal to such an innocent request.

"No?"

"I don't trust you. You're playing some game."

Aegon smiled coyly at her, weaving the piece he'd taken from her between his fingers.

"I thought we were both playing a game, my dear niece."

He didn't mean Cyvasse, and he didn't think she thought he did either.

With an agility he hadn't known she'd possessed, Y/N made a quick grab for the piece that was almost successful, though he pulled it back out of her reach.

"Give it to me, Aegon."

Ah, there you are, Aegon thought. That was his fierce girl, half savage and half his.

He reclined nonchalantly back in his seat.

"Come and get it then."

Her irritation with him plain to see on her face, Y/N rose and moved around the table to stand before him with her hand outstretched expectantly.

Aegon placed the trebuchet piece in her hand before quickly enclosing his hand over Y/N's and yanking her towards him. Not expecting his ruse, she fell into his lap with a shriek, and he quickly entrapped her in his arms. He grinned at her devilishly, more than a little pleased with this turn of events.

Y/N pushed against his hold, huffing in frustration as he didn't move an inch.

"Let me up, you swine."

"Only if you promise to go on a stroll with me."

Y/N glared at him wordlessly, though she stopped struggling, seeing it was futile.

Aegon tutted at her. "I'm quite comfortable like this and don't think I'll have any desire to move anytime soon. If you want your freedom, you'll have to give me what I want, I'm afraid. Is spending time with me really such an awful prospect?" He couldn't help the tinge of insecurity that came through in his words. Did she really hate him that much?

But it seemed to be that note which finally struck a chord with Y/N. Sighing with resignation and relaxing against him, Y/N looked at him sternly.

"Fine, but I will hurt you if you try to ravish me behind some bushes. I've heard about your reputation."

Aegon felt a levity in his heart again. He could see the smile Y/N was trying to conceal, hear the jest in her words.

"Oh darling, I wouldn't dream of it." He would. He definitely had. But he wouldn't tell her that. Instead, he finally released her from the cage of his arms and let her stand up, though he immediately bemoaned the loss of her.

Aegon had quickly captured Y/N's arm and wrapped it around his, firmly tucking her arm in the crook of his elbow as soon as he'd seen her enter the garden. He'd been worried for a short while that she wouldn't come at all. But there she was, utterly resplendent in the morning sunlight.

"Come then, Y/N. Tell me what you've been up to in Dragonstone these past 6 years."

Y/N looked up at him quizically.

"What do you want to know?"

Aegon responded immediately.

"Anything. Everything. Just talk to me."

And, finally, she did. Aegon didn't care if it was minutes or hours or days that passed because Y/N was speaking to him, laughing with him again, just as she had when they were children together. Everything was going a little too well, however, for Aegon was too busy staring at Y/N to realise he was walking them into a path of rose bushes. Evidently, she was too busy staring at him to notice either, giving Aegon only a few seconds to grab hold of her and turn her towards him before she fell into it. Regrettably, the rapidity at which he'd turned her had caused her dress to fan out and get caught in the thorns.

"Oh bother." Y/N had sighed exasperatedly, reaching down to untangle herself before Aegon had stopped her and crouched down himself.

"Allow me." This seemed like the sort of thing a romantic interest would do for his beloved in a novel. Aegon remembered Y/N had always like the part where the knight rescued the princess best.

To his surprise, Y/N only started swatting at him frantically.

"Aegon, get up. If anyone were to come across us and see you under my skirts, they'll think.."

"What? Oh, no I don't care if they think that."

"Aegon!"

"I'm just joking. You're being ridiculous. Anyway, I'll be quick."

He paused, unable to resist teasing her a little more when she was blushing so deliciously.

"But, if we were doing what you think your imaginary spectators would think we were doing, then..."

She grabbed a chunk of his hair suddenly, giving it a threatening tug.

"Aegon, I swear if you finish that sentence I'm going to shove your face in that rose bush."

He chuckled, happy enough to have her fingers in his hair. He redirected his focus back to the matter at hand, though her constant shifting made it increasingly difficult to concentrate.

"Stop squirming."

"I can't keep my balance."

Aegon pretended to sigh exasperatedly whilst hiding his smile. He patted his shoulder in invitation.

"Fine then, just sit on my shoulder while I do this." He could see Y/N looked sceptical at first, but she perched tentatively on his shoulder after a few moments, her hand resting on his back to support her.

The soft tread of footsteps had the both of them snapping their heads up to see Aemond turn the bend. He halted in his steps upon seeing them, although he quickly turned back in the opposite direction, his lips turned upwards in a smirk that seemed to say this was exactly the position he'd expect to find them in.

Y/N threw her hands up.

"Perfect."

Aegon reached up from detangling her skirts to pat her thigh reassuringly.

"Not to worry, my sweet. No one would expect you to throw your lot in with me."

She slapped his hand away, eyes narrowed.

"I'm not your sweet."

Aegon simply smirked at her.

"You're right. I do prefer you venomous."

Seeing that he'd left her speechless for once, he turned back to the thorn bush and, with one final tug, successfully untangled Y/N's skirts. He couldn't save the mesh, which was torn in several places.

Rising from his crouch, he didn't expect to see such a forlorn and despairing look on Y/N's face as she stared at her torn dress. He felt a jolt of panic rush through him that he'd actually offended her with his teasing, frightened her even...

"Y/N, look, I'm sorry if I upset you or frightened you. I was only teasing."

She waved away his apology, pointing towards her skirts.

"No, I'm used to you. It's my dress. The mesh is hard to come by and it was my absolute favourite."

Aegon immediately regretted not being even more careful, hating to have upset Y/N by ruining her dress.

"I'm so sorry Y/N. Can't it be mended?"

She shook her head softly, looking up at him with a smile devoid of any malice or sarcasm.

"I don't think so. But it's just a dress after all. Thank you for helping me, Aegon."

He bowed his head respectfully as she passed by him.

"Of course."

Aegon watched after her as she disappeared into the walls of the Keep. The dress clearly did matter to her, and so it mattered to him. In the hopes of remedying his error, the Prince went in search of the Keep's seamstress.

Viserys hadn't been best pleased to learn that whilst he was confined to his sick bed, Queen Alicent had not arranged for a banquet to be held in Rhaenyra's honour. This was an oversight he commanded her to resolve quickly. Thus, it was that in a few days hence the family would host a banquet with all the most important nobles in attendance. The whole affair seemed rather farcical to Aegon since this was hardly a friendly visit, with the succession to Driftmark hanging in the balance. He only hoped that the dress he had requested to be made for Y/N would be ready in time. The Keep's seamstress had assured him she would be able to get hold of the same diaphanous mesh material of the one he'd inadvertently torn. Aegon was anxious to please Y/N, to give her a reason to consider him again as a suitor for her hand. He had little doubt his mother and Rhaenyra would be steadfastly opposed to such a match for that had been the case when they were adolescents. But he wouldn't allow their petty arguments to keep him and Y/N apart any longer...provided Y/N felt the same. She seemed increasingly amenable to his advances, taking his arm when offered and allowing him to lead her to meals, and her manner was much warmer and familiar when they talked now than it had been only a few days ago. But he could tell there was still something amiss, a wall she had built up between them he was determined to break down.

On the morning of the banquet, the seamstress knocked on Aegon's door to show him Y/N's completed dress. He was satisfied with the outcome, the material was just as grand as her previous dress had been. He only hoped she'd think so, too, once she saw it. Perhaps she would even wear it later that evening. Before sending the seamstress off to Y/N's quarters with the dress, he quickly scribbled a note to his niece.

Quelos,

Please accept this dress as a replacement for the one I tore in the rose garden, along with my sincere apology. The material is as close a replica of your favourite gown as I could procure. I hope it will still please you and that you will wear it tonight at the banquet.

Aegon

Aegon had already drunk several cups of wine by the time Y/N entered the banquet hall, though it was her elegance and refined beauty that sent him stumbling back a pace rather than the alcohol. She was wearing the dress, and it fit her perfectly, swirling in burgundy pools of fabric around her with the intricately woven black mesh over the top. Returning his gaze to her face, he jolted slightly to see that she was already looking at him too and smiling softly. He felt himself smile back at her by reflex though as soon as he took a step towards her, his mother was calling for all the guests in attendance to take their seats. He made a beeline for the seat next to Y/N, roughly shoving Jacaerys aside and ignoring his cry of indignation.

Aegon heard Y/N trying to conceal a giggle with a cough, and smirked at her as he sat down. He turned to face her, leaning against his hand. "I take it you like my gift then?" Aegon was aiming for mild interest but he was genuinely curious to know what she thought of it. Smoothing the material out on her skirts, Y/N smiled brightly at him.

"I think it is very beautiful. Thank you. You didn't have to."

Aegon leaned further towards her.

"I wanted to."

The evening passed surprisingly pleasantly. Though Aegon didn't know if that was just because he was so preoccupied with trying to make Y/N laugh. He'd earned a pretty endearing snort from her with his impression of Lord Beesbury, much to her embarrassment. Though he did notice her continually glancing at his cup as he allowed a servant to fill it multiple times throughout the night. He normally needed to be drunk to get through these sorts of things, but Y/N's company made him want to stay sober, so he turned his goblet upside-down on the table, stopping a servant from filling it again. Y/N looked at him in surprise, her eyebrow quirked up. Aegon simply shrugged at her, though his ears perked up at something Rhaenyra had said at the other end of the table to his mother.

"The betrothal is all but arranged. There is just the matter of..."

Aegon's heart was thrumming in his ears, cold dread filling him. She couldn't mean Y/N? But the way Y/N was looking sheepishly down at her plate and refusing to meet his eyes all but confirmed it.

"Are you to be married?" Aegon could barely repress the rage he felt, gritting his words out.

Y/N nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Yes." By the sound of it, she wasn't too pleased about the arrangement either. Aegon grabbed Y/N's hand and pulled her up, ignoring her shocked expression, and he dragged her along with him to the centre of the banquet hall, where a dance was just about to begin.

"Dance with me." It wasn't a request. The time for patience was long passed. Aegon wasn't going to let Y/N slip away from him again to marry some other priggish Lord. He pulled her close to him, speaking lowly with anger lacing his voice.

"When were you going to tell me you were betrothed?"

Y/N looked surprised by his animosity.

"I didn't think it would matter to you. From what I've heard there are many other girls who've taken your interest since I left."

Aegon bristled. She didn't think it would matter to him.

"And we're you jealous? Like I was when you flirted with other lords and knights?"

"No, we no longer have any claims over one another. You can do as you please."

Aegon gripped her waist tighter.

"How can you say that? Is your heart still so hardened to me after what happened at Driftmark that you are blind to how I have pursued you ever since you returned? I apologised for what I said, sent you letters explaining why I had to say it. And you didn't reply to a single one." Aegon's voice was raw, thick with desperation. Y/N stared up at him in confusion.

"You sent me letters? I never received them."

Aegon felt his heart plummet. He had thought her lack of response meant that she hated him. To know she hadn't even read them was just as upsetting.

Aegon loosened his grip, holding her more gently.

"Then you don't know?"

"Know what, Aegon?"

"That I love you. I never stopped."

Y/N took a sharp intake of breath, searching his eyes for the truth in them, he thought. Then her gaze hardened again.

"I apologise if I have given you a false impression, uncle. But I am betrothed. I'm tired now, I think I'll retire for the evening."

Aegon was stunned by her coldness, her harshness after he poured his heart out to her. He was stunned only a short while before he shook himself out of his despondency. No, he didn't believe she no longer felt for him, and he wouldn't allow her to marry another man if there was any possibility of her returning his feelings. He followed her back to her chambers, not bothering to knock before letting himself in. Y/N jumped at the sound of the door opening, looking at him like he had three heads.

"What in the Seven Hells, Aegon! You can't be in here. Someone will see you."

Aegon shut the door behind him.

"I don't care. I need to know if you love him. That fool you said you're set to marry

Y/N shifted uncomfortably.

"I... like him. We like each other."

Aegon took broad steps towards her, stopping only when they were a hair's breadth from one another and placing a hand on her waist possessively.

"Like? Is that all you wish for, to be liked? You deserve to be passionately desired and fiercely loved." He tightened his hold on her for emphasis.

"It doesn't matter what I want. Mother has arranged it."

Aegon frowned.

"Of course it matters."

Y/n placed a hand on his chest to push him lightly away from her.

"What do you want from me Aegon?"

Aegon smiled sadly at her.

"You have to ask?"

Y/N shut her eyes briefly before fixing him with the full force of her gaze, which had long had the ability to bring him to his knees.

"We can't relive the past. Even if I wanted to. It's just too late." All Aegon could hear was that there was a part of her, however small that part might be, that still felt that frenetic energy between them. That wanted him too.

"I think we can. Maybe you'll fall in love with me all over again, if you give me a chance." 

Y/N's eyes lit with something he couldn't place before immediately dulling into that blank mask of indifference he'd come to hate.

"Too much has happened. I think you should leave, Aegon"

Aegon grasped desperately at a reason to get her to just listen to him.

"Quelos, please." Her head snapped up, eyes locking with his. In them, a tenderness he'd not seen in years. He nearly sighed with relief at the sight of it.

"No one else calls me that."

Aegon approached her again, though he did not touch her this time.

"You are very like a star. In it's beauty and light. In is cold indifference and untouchable distance from mere mortals like me." 

"I'm not indifferent to you." Y/N's reply was so instantaneous he scarcely caught it.

"What?"

"I said I'm not indifferent to you." Y/N was looking at him with such an affectionate expression, Aegon felt his heart was fit to burst. This was as close as she'd come to admitting she still held any feelings for him other than resentment at all.

"That's good. Because I find myself quite often overwhelmed with how much I feel for you. I always have an excruciating need to be near you. To talk to you, even when I have nothing to say. I think I have wished for you and nothing but you my whole life." He whispered the last, as if fearing that voicing his confession any louder would shatter this fragile understanding between them.

He hadn't realised how close he'd come towards Y/N, if he leant forward only a little their lips would touch. He also hadn't realised she was clutching his tunic, pulling him towards her even when she was trying so desperately to send him away.

"Are you telling the truth?" And for once Y/N looked insecure. Had she thought his feelings a lie after Driftmark or had she thought they would change?

"Yes, nuha quelos."

Her eyes widened. He'd never called her "his star" before.

Caught up in her beauty and the growing suspicion she might just feel the same for him, he made to kiss her only to have his head snap back violently when she slapped him.

"Seven hells! What are you? Dragon or girl?"

Holding his throbbing cheek, he relented in his anger as he looked up to see Y/N holding a hand over her mouth, her eyes alight with fear. He softened his voice, dropping his hand from his face so she didn't think she'd seriously hurt him.

"It's alright, Y/N. That was my fault. If you don't want me to kiss you, then I won't."

"But I did want you to kiss me."

Aegon blanked, then threw his hands up in confusion.

"Then why did you slap me, you infuriating woman?"

Y/N shuffled towards him sheepishly, tentatively raising a hand to stroke the red mark she'd left on his cheek.

"Since the day that you first kissed me...I have never been close like that with anyone else. I panicked."

Aegon held her hand in place over his cheek.

"Why?"

Y/n turned her gaze to the floor.

"I didn't want it with someone who wasn't you."

Aegon felt his heart stumble at her words. Smiling tenderly at her, he took her chin between his thumb and forefinger to gently turn her gaze back to him.

"Good. I'd kill a man if I knew he'd touched you."

Y/N fixed him with a rueful glare.

"That's hardly fair. I'm supposed to be fine with you whoring yourself about the Red Keep, chasing after every skirt you see?" 

Aegon smirked at her.

"So you do care?" 

When she made to move away from him in annoyance, he quickly gathered her back into his arms, speaking affectionately to her to make up for his past deviances.

"It is you who has my heart. Who has always held it." 

Y/N melted against him, though she still looked a little unsure.

"I don't know what to do." 

Aegon stroked her cheek

"I'll teach you."

He leant down slowly, routinely searching her eyes for any doubt, any hint she didn't want him to kiss her. As she tilted her head up to meet his, he pressed their lips together. After a few moments, she began to respond, and it was just like it had been in their youth. Each brush of her lips against his felt like a fire burning through him and like a wound knitting together all at once. It didn't matter to him that she was inexperienced. He only wished he hadn't bothered kissing any other girl's lips. When she pulled away to catch her breath, he pressed their foreheads together, wanting to maintain this closeness between them.

"What did you write in your letters?"

Aegon chuckled at her sudden curiosity, entangling his fingers in her hair.

"Mostly, I was just begging you to forgive me for what I said at Driftmark, telling you I loved you and that I missed you."

Y/N stroked a hand across the plane of his chest.

"I missed you too."

Nuha quelos~my star

Quelos~star

Tagging:

@callsignwidow @lady-dragon-rider

[suzayaaa]

ೃ⁀➷ 11:47 PM ☆.｡.:*

𓆩⟡𓆪 pairing: anton x reader

𓆩⟡𓆪 word count: 1.0k

𓆩⟡𓆪 themes: fluff, established relationship

𓆩⟡𓆪 warnings: thunderstorm

𓆩⟡𓆪 suza’s note: first anton post yippee

The storm is loud. It’s heavy, dark, and almost agonizing, and as you’re choosing a movie to watch, you can’t help but look outside the window. It’s something between awe and terror—the sky, although dark and kind of foggy, roars every few seconds, making the silence of your and Anton’s shared apartment somewhat disturbing.

You don’t think much of it when your feet carry you through the dark home to the spare room. You open the door softly. The blue light from the computer screen gleams on his face, defining his features in the otherwise unlit room. You walk over to him and tug at his sleeve. He flinches, eyes jolt to your face only to relax immediately.

He moves the headphones from his head to his neck. “Yeah? What’s wrong?”

“What are you doing?” You look at the screen and observe the character’s flowy movements in the game’s lobby.

“Playing, wasting time,” he sighs as he turns his chair toward your body. His big hands land on your waist, touching it through the material of your pajamas barely, but securely. “Why? Is everything okay?”

You hum and the room and the sky flash pure white for two seconds and a loud growl follows. It echoes through the walls to the floor and to your feet, crumbling into your skin and clutching your muscles and lungs and throat and squeezing the air out of you in one sharp motion. Just as your hands grip Anton’s forearm, the world turns quiet and black again. You look back at Anton, not realizing your head snapped toward the window, and gulp.

“Hey,” he massages your sides with his thumbs, eyeing you attentively, “it’s okay. Come here.”

He pulls you closer until you’re sat on his lap. Your face buries in his chest, calves hanging loose on the side of his gaming chair as your fingers start to play with the hem of his shirt. His left hand moves to your hip to steady you and the other one goes back to the keyboard lit up in a pretty neon rainbow.

“I’m not that scared of thunders,” you mumble into his body, although you’re pretty sure you don’t sound that confident. “This one is just kinda,” your voice fades away because you don’t really know how to describe it.

It’s big, loud, and scary, and every time you look at the blinding thunders or hear the grumbling noises it feels as if it’s coming straight for you, your boyfriend, your apartment, and everything and everyone else around you; as if it’s going to strike right through your window and kill both of you, or worse—kill one of you and leave the other one in eternal pain, fear, and agony of losing a partner and make one of you suffer every time there is a storm.

“I know, I could hear it through the headphones, even though I think they’re noise-cancelling. I thought you’d be asleep by now.” His soft breath fans the top of your head as he logs off the game and closes all apps. You glance at the time in the right corner of the screen—11:47 pm—and hum.

“I wanted to watch a movie. Not like I’d be able to fall asleep anyway.” Anton chuckles at that, and although it comes off awkwardly, you ease into his chest when it vibrates against your ear.

“We can do it now if you want,” he offers as he turns his PC off. The keyboard and the mouse’s neons slowly fade out, leaving you in pitch black.

You hum absentmindedly. The storm seems closer without the light, more real. Your muscles stiffen at the thunder growls, even under your boyfriend’s touch.

His arms move under your knees and back as he pushes the chair away from the desk and gets up. You instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, although he doesn’t display any trouble carrying you.

You arrive at the living room. The TV is still on. The list of shows and movies you saved to watch later is your only source of light, but it’s enough.

He lays you on the couch and you sit up, feeling the cotton under your palms until a remote lands in your hand. In the meantime, Anton goes to the kitchen and comes back with leftover snacks crunched up in his fingers. He puts the bag on your lap and you move to the edge of the seat, making space for him to lay down. When he does, you drop the remote onto his chest, pull the coffee table closer to the couch to place the bag of snacks on it, and finally lay yourself on top of him. You cover your bodies with a blanket you grabbed earlier and wrap your arms around his neck. Before your head lands on his chest, he takes the remote from it.

“What do you want to watch?” You hear just when you are about to ask.

“I don’t know. Something not scary.” He fiddles with the remote for a good minute and then you see the search bar slowly fill up with letters—your comfort movie.

You can’t help a soft smile grace your features and you know Anton is also smiling from the way his hand, the one that is free of the remote, squeezes your waist, and his lips press a peck to the top of your head. It’s a small reminder of his love, a silent message of what you are to him and what he is to you, but it brings such relief to your mind and body, melting you into him under the warmth trapped by the blanket.

As the movie’s first scenes roll out and Anton’s light breaths fan over your head, you slowly forget about the sharp lightning bolts dancing in the sky. Anton’s big arms over you, his cologne tickling your nose, the comfort of his presence pulling on your muscles and tendons and setting them free, light like a feather. It’s all so familiar, but so lovely, and paired with his steady heartbeat, you let yourself fully relax for the first time tonight.

Because everything is and will be alright—as long as you’re in his arms.

suzayaaa 2024 𓆩⟡𓆪

[blackdollette]

"my body is my temple, my heart is one too." | spencer reid

black bathing suit. - lana del rey

⊹₊⋆ synopsis: if perfection was a human being...

fill out the taglist form! : @thirtyratsinasuit @auggiethecreator @oliviah-25 @sleepysongbirdsings @pleasantwitchgarden @emma-e-a @bellasprettywords @hiireadstuff

⊹₊⋆ pairing: female!reader x spencer

⊹₊⋆ word count: 995

⊹₊⋆ contents: body worship, praise kink, smut, fluff

spencer was perched on his bed, his adoring gaze glued to you as you stood before him. it was far past midnight, but sleep wasn’t on his agenda for tonight. pale moonlight seeped into the room through the thin curtains, glistening against the white, silky fabric of your little nightgown. you stood there shyly, hands behind your back with your legs crossed as he drooled over your perfect figure. 

his erect cock conspicuously pressed against his loose blue jeans, but he chose to only focus on you. his eyes travelled up your body slowly, stopping at your thighs, hips, waist and chest before finally landing on your eyes, which were boring into his desperate little soul. his pupils had swallowed his striking brown irises, altogether drinking you in.

you were just a foot away from him, but you just seemed so ethereal with beauty that couldn’t be grasped that he felt as if he was worlds away from you. you were effortlessly alluring, drawing him in with every breath you took. spencer lifted a hand slightly before stopping himself, reconsidering his action.

you looked so fragile and delicate, an angelic aura radiating off of you. it was as if his bare hands shouldn’t be able to have the privilege to touch you. his fantasies drifted as his gaze deepened, him imagining your soft, perfect lips around his aching shaft. you slowly closed the gap between you two, gently sinking down to his lap, keeping your toned legs on either side of him.

his breath hitched as his fingertips came into contact with your bare thigh, your soft skin bringing him back to reality while simultaneously taking him even further away from it. his stare fell down to your parted legs, seeing the way the thin cloth around your body left just enough of you hidden for the imagination.

the gown teasingly crawled higher up. he gently placed his hands onto each one, massaging soft circles onto your skin with his thumbs. he looked up at your face, instantly sending a rush of blood right to his flushed cheeks. the sombre lighting in the room highlighted all your perfect features. 

your smooth skin was dusted with the pale glimmer of the moonlight. your long eyelashes framed your tantalizing eyes, the hairs casting shadows underneath them. his soul had left his body, causing him to feel a high that he hadn’t known he’d been craving his whole life. you snaked your elegant fingers to his defined biceps, caressing his soft skin.

your gentle touch seemed to snap him out of his compulsive gaze, a lovesick grin tugging at his lips. he brought his lips to your ear, his words sounding as smooth as honey. “you’re so perfect.” he paused for a moment. “no. that word seems too platitude to describe you. i don’t believe there’s any word strong enough to describe how you make me feel.”

his hands began to travel underneath the fabric, him being able to feel your body without the interruption of underwear in his way. you brought your hands down to the rim of the nightgown, slowly pulling it off your body. you slipped it off, tossing the lifeless mass of silk to the ground as he gawked at you.

he writhed slightly, the burning sensation in his core growing at a rapid pace. there you were, in your simplest form but somehow making his mind come up with concepts that he had never imagined before. for all he was concerned, you were a goddess.

his eyes moved down to your breasts, each one mirroring the other with every precise curve. your hard nipples stuck out, signalling your neediness. he looked at your waist, moving down to your hips where your bodies were connected. his arms slithered around your waist, him burying his face into your chest, taking one of your nipples into his mouth.

soft, barely audible moans slipped from your mouth. each noise that you made seemed to make his addiction to you grow even stronger. he peppered kisses all over your neck, the sloppiness of them moving down to your collarbone and chest. he muttered tiny little praises as his curious lips wandered up and down your chest.  

“you are absolutely heavenly…” he gently flipped you around, setting you comfortably on your back as he sat in between your parted legs, his kisses moving to your thighs. he gave each one a gentle squeeze, the softness of them granting his body with sensations that couldn’t be captured with words.

being around you filled him with such euphoria. it was an ecstatic feeling that nothing else could ever come close to. he deeply kissed your legs, allowing his hands to roam the masterpiece that was your body. he was still reeling over the fact that he had you all to himself right now. that truly was a blessing.

he had become so drunk on your presence that he was completely oblivious to the way his hips bucked into the mattress, desperate for even the smallest amount of pleasure. though you couldn’t make out the little things he said, you could feel the depth that his words carried. “you must’ve been sculpted by the gods…”

he feasted on your soft skin, his pecks leaving tiny marks in his tracks. “i want to be with you forever. ‘til death do us part, my dear…” he seemed so content with just being with you at this moment. he was overwhelmed with the abundance of your perfection. 

he felt greedy for thinking of fucking you. copulation with you was a concept too divine for him. he recognized it in its purest form, truly understanding it and wanting nothing more than to put you on the altar of his love and respect, putting his heart, soul, mind, body, spirit and every cell in his body into drawing out pure divinity onto you, treating you like the work of art that he made you out to be.

[writella]

Daryl comes home midday and you allow him to distract you from your work and studying with kisses. (cw: daryl x afab!reader, just a little more than suggestive- 18+, mdni- but ends quickly, kisses and sweetness! wc: a little over 1000)

Palms slide on the bed, arms caging your backside as you read; and soon enough, without you even knowing he came through your door, Daryl is there— lips right by your head, whispering in a mixture soft and gruff, the word, “Hey.”

“Hi,” you reply, turning over to look up at him, not hesitating to let your favorite distraction invade all your thoughts. You take in his face in the sun’s high noon glow. From your view, the sun brightens his features, making strands of his brown hair a dark blonde, and his blue eyes become deep ocean wells even through the squint. But to him, the sun is shining down on you, creating an outline of an angel’s glow in the sky.

Well aren’t you two in love?

“Still at it?” He asks, taking note of the book and papers and packets surrounding you before kissing at your jaw and nuzzling into your neck. It was just supposed to be a greeting, obviously you were studying, but then he lingers there for a moment. It feels so nice here, with you, in this room— it’s peaceful; quiet and airy.

Your cottage was dark other than the sunlit window. It felt cooler than any other house in Alexandria. A nice change for his hot skin that had been out working since morning; and of course before that, he was gone for most of the week. Typical, but you’re both used to it. Him, always doing something, always helping. It’s just what happens when you’re the guy everyone goes to when they want it done right. Not to mention he did like to be needed— even if he never showed it— and he preferred the outside more than indoors. The outside did sometimes mean without you though, so any chance to remember exactly how the feeling of your touch felt, he took, like now. Even if he memorized every part of you, the feeling of the pads of your fingers against the hair and veins and scars of his arms and face, nothing was like the real thing. You felt the same, that’s why you instinctively parted your knees when you turned over to face him. How could he help how perfectly he fit in between? It was seamless.

Soon enough you were kissing. It’s soft, but the undertones of fire hearts wanting more were there and fastly growing. Daryl comes closer, elbows placed above your shoulder, your thighs closing in his waist. You grind upwards, and he downwards. He puts a hand on your cheek, your jaw. You touch his own. He kisses you, slips his tongue into your mouth, taking the lead. The small mmms come out then. Everything is perfect, this feeling is so right. Even if he’s sweating. Even if you hate when he dirties the sheets with his muddy, forest worn clothes. When it’s Daryl, it’s hard not to give in. The next moment is always unknown.

You touch the shorter part of his hair at the front, his bangs— he hates when you call them that— and then your fingers slide through the rest, twirling down to the end of his strands. The sweat and humidity from outside has made patterns in them. Your kisses become pecks until you let go. Looking at him tenderly you say, “I like when your hair gets wavy like this.”

He moved his face to the side, your palm meeting his jaw. He nuzzles until you reach his nose, he kissed your hand, then kissed your shoulders, breathing in the tops of your arm, you feel the air, it’s warm; it tickles lightly. “You smell nice,” he finally responds. A compliment as a thank you to yours. Never can take one, can he? He just focuses on you. Right now: your scent. He can’t describe what it is, something that he can only define as pretty; the color pink; flowery— you.

You smile as softly and sweetly as the smell he describes in his head and kiss his lips again, quickly, a peck, then another, kiss, kiss, kiss until your lips mold again. Your tongue enters his mouth this time, sliding against the top and you twist your head, but he overpowers, he can’t help it. Daryl really likes kissing. It’s more than he ever thought he would before he started to love you. There is something about the innocence that comforts him. You can make it passionate, sexual, but you can always bring it back to innocence and puppy love and being like teenagers; things he never got to experience with the purity of it all. It’s nice. A way to show his affection through action; wordless romanticism. He adored it. He thought you deserved it.

Your hands reach for his hair once more, you play with it. Your fingers lace through the nape to the split ends you couldn’t even tell were there. He likes it, it feels soothing. Your other hand is on his neck and you feel the vibrations of his gruff humming. Even if you’re under him, you’re able to make him feel good. You sigh happily and start to roll upward on him again, he’s making you feel good too and you need him. You kiss him quick, returning to the open mouth pecks: kiss, kiss, kiss, and then you linger- two pairs of parted lips locking in on a final moment, it feels enchanted, but then he withdraws.

Your eyes become wide as you look up at him. What will he do next? You want him back.

“Gotta finish your work, sunshine.”

Wait! But— you knew he was right… you were procrastinating, but really you let him, he started it, it’s his fault! So, really? Now? No more? Not even just a little?

Afraid not.

He kisses your shoulder, smelling that pretty flower pinkness one more time. “I’ll be back when you finish.”

You reply with a voice of sad reluctance, “…okay,” you sigh.

You knew better though, working in daylight was for the best. Who else was going to teach these Alexandria kids unless you committed yourself to learning how. “Promise?”

His eyes examine the blooming of your lips. “Y’know I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” Usually he’d keep it there, but he did miss you, and he sure did take note of how needy you were getting. He gives in to the pretty pink flower pout. “Promise.”

And with that, his finger slowly moves down your clothed mound until it finds your clit, one press in as he kisses your lips once more and all the heat from below pools. You feel it hotly. It was the quickest touch, as quick as he retracted it, and then he left.

Oh… guess it’s time to finish that reading, you suppose.

[leth-writes]

Hellooooo i love your work❤️

Can I request Paul x reader where reader has a facial scar that they are really insecure about. One day, one of the other pack members makes a comment about it, and the reader gets really upset.

🤠-anon

Hello, lovely Cowboy anon! What a cool idea, and thank you so much for the praise! I’m still new to the whole posting my writing thing, so I’m always a bit nervous as to how people will react 🙂

Warning: the character expresses some opinions about their looks that aren’t actually true; obviously, facial scarring doesn’t make a person scary or bad. This is just the mindset of the character, not the author.

You had a scar. It wasn’t a small one; it split your face in half in a jagged, red line, marring your skin and just barely missing taking out your eye. It felt like the only thing people noticed about you; usually it was the first question anyone asked. Everyone always wanted to know what horrific, sordid tale you had, but the truth was even worse: nothing special had happened. It was a bad injury as a child from an accident, though you couldn’t even remember what had happened, you’d been so young. 

Sometimes it felt like that was worse. If you had some gruesome tale, maybe it would distract from the scar and give you some confidence. Instead, all you had was a face even your parents struggled to look at and a huge physical therapy bill.

When you’d met Paul, you’d finally felt seen, like someone knew you for who you were and not what you looked like. He hadn’t even really asked about the scar, he’d been so focused on staring into your eyes. That’s what drew you to him, initially; he looked into your eyes. No one had done that, not as long as you could remember. 

Paul honestly didn’t really register the scar beyond it being part of your face. It was just another feature that defined you as unique, like your expressive eyes or adorable laugh. He hadn’t even thought about how anyone else would react, let alone how you would feel about it. All he wanted was to introduce you, his imprint and the center of his universe, to his best friends, practically his siblings. 

When you expressed concern about what the others would think, Paul assured you they would never do anything to hurt you. In fact, he told you, Sam’s girlfriend Emily had a similar scar, so everyone was used to being polite.

He was wrong.

The first thing Sam said when the two of you walked in was a snarled “Paul, what did you do?!”. He practically leapt across the room, dragging him bodily out the door as he struggled not to shift. The two stood on the far side of the yard, clearly arguing, Paul struggling not to shift. You weren’t sure what had upset Sam, but you knew it had to be serious for the, as Paul had described, normally calm man to be so angry.

The next thing that happened was Jared walking in, muffin hanging from his hand, as he exclaimed “holy shit! What the hell did Paul do to you?”. Then, it hit you. They were talking about your scar. For once, you hadn’t even thought to wonder what they would think about you, Paul’s confidence at their presumed lack of care had rubbed off on you. You realized Sam was convinced Paul had hurt you, had shifted and created the large, hideous crater across your face. All along, he had been wrong; the scar was all anyone would ever see. You couldn’t even meet Paul’s friends without someone thinking you’d had some horrific incident, forever injured by your imprint’s wild temper. 

You opened your mouth to defend Paul, only to slam it shut as your eyes filled with tears, damaged tear duct stinging at the salt. Your face fell, mouth wavering as you tried not to cry, and you flew out the door and down the yard. You raced to the car and hopped in, slamming the door shut and quickly backing out. 

The drive back was quiet and solemn, all alone for the first time in weeks, and you had to stop multiple times just to cry. You should’ve known better than to get your hopes up. By the time you reached your house, you had no tears left to cry. All you wanted was to bury your head in blankets and never come up for air, maybe save the world the sight of your face.

Once you entered your bedroom, you spotted Paul, shirtless, by the window. He radiated warmth into the now cold, dark room, looking sheepish.

“Hey. I’m sorry about what the guys said, Emily’s gonna talk to them and make them apologize. They didn’t mean to scare you off by talking about your scar…” He said, rubbing his arm in thought.

“I-I just thought that, maybe, someone would look at me for me, not my scar! It’s all I wanted, all I ever want, and you’re the only one that sees me! Am I going to be stuck this way forever?!” You vented, hands reaching up to clutch at your forehead in frustration.

“No, no! I promise, the boys will love you; it was just a surprise, is all. Please, just give them another chance,” he pleaded stepping closer.

“And you aren’t hideous. I love your face, scar and all. It’s part of what makes you who you are.” he continued, bringing you into a tight hug and burying your head in his warm shoulder. “If you want, I can beat them up for you, maybe give them a scar and see how they feel?” He joked, smiling at the soft, hiccuping laugh that rang through you. You sighed, further melting into his chest. 

“Hey, how about we cuddle? I can feel your goosebumps,” he teased, dragging you to the bed as you sighed. Laying down, he gripped your leg and threw it over his hip, wrapping his arms around you and rubbing your back. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead and traced your scar, whisper-soft. “I love you, okay? Don’t ever forget that.” He sighed, putting his chin to your forehead. You hummed, burrowing in deep, already drifting off. Maybe you would ask him to make the pack train extra hard as compensation.

[neo-novaa]

bitter

*ੈ✩ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: ethan landry x reader

*ੈ✩ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: drunk confessions, .2 seconds of angst, no spoilers :)

*ੈ✩ 𝐚/𝐧: part 1 of 2!! i swear i promise, i pinkie promise that part 2 will come out today

you don’t get jealous, ever. 

it was your (albeit private ) defining feature. you were content with everything you had— no, beyond content: you were happy. you didn’t want anything else because you didn’t need anything else. you had a good family, enough money to keep you from debt, good friends, and even better academics. 

so imagine your surprise when you get that bitter feeling boiling in your stomach at the sight of your “friend,” ethan landry, eyeing another girl. 

you’re being very liberal with the term “friend,” but it’s only because you can’t think of a word to describe someone you’d been hanging out with for a few months, talking and treating them as a friend, but going home and imagining what it’d be like to fuck them senseless.

you’d probably call it a crush, but “friend” sounded much less embarrassing. 

but it’s all going on at some stupid party for some stupid celebration you couldn’t care less about; all you wanted to do was get drunk enough to barely avoid a hangover. you went with your small group of friends, and eventually forced yourself to socialize once you had some juice in your system. 

and it was when you were talking to some pretty girl from your liberal arts class when you saw him: leaning against the wall, red solo cup in hand, eyes stuck on a girl in a halter top with patterned shorts to match— a girl standing right across from you. 

and maybe it was something in the way his fingers were tapping on the plastic cup, or the twitching of his knee, or the way that he just refused take his fucking eyes off of her—

it set you off. 

suddenly you found yourself at a table full of cheap bottles of booze, and your plastic cup was full, brimming with whatever concoction of cheap seltzer and even cheaper tequila you could find. soon enough, you were weaving and dodging your way through the sweaty masses to try and find an exit.

finally, after eons (three minutes) of searching, you managed to find yourself a door, and relished in the early spring chill that hit your skin.

you tried to drink and forget, seeing as though that was the whole reason you came out here. but no matter how much jungle juice you downed, you found your mind wandering back to him.

you couldn’t stop thinking about how ethan refused to look at anyone but her, how even when people greeted him, he waved them off without even looking at them. and you couldn’t stop thinking about the way she was dancing, as if she was born to do so, and how he wouldn’t stop fucking staring at her.

you weren’t jealous— you didn’t get jealous. this wasn’t jealousy, it was just…

just what, envy? envious of what? of some dork you’ve grown particularly fond of eyeing some random girl at this stupid frat party? of the guy you’ve been harboring a crush on for months staring at a girl he didn’t even know? of ethan landry, the boy you hadn’t stopped thinking of for months, thinking about anyone but you?

no, you weren’t envious. what could you possibly be envious of?

“what are you doing out here?”

you jump at ethans voice, beginning to feel particularly sluggish— when did your cup get so light? as a matter of fact, when did it get empty?

“i could ask you the same thing,” you say, finding it increasingly difficult to formulate words. 

“it got too sweaty and crowded in there,” he sits down next to you, bringing his arms close to his torso at the sudden cold breeze. “i always forget how much i hate coming to these parties.”

“then why do you keep coming?” you raise the cup to your lips, frowning when you remember its lack of contents. 

he doesn’t say anything.

“is it because of a girl?” you see him tense from the corner of your vision, however foggy it may be. 

ethans shaking his head. “what makes you say that?”

you shrug, carefully placing the cup by your feet. “i saw you looking at her,” his shoulders drop, and you can’t help but feel something in your chest drop too. “she’s really pretty, i think i have a few classes with her.”

“i really don’t know what you’re talking about.” he feigns ignorance, the coward.

“come on ethan, don’t pretend to be stupid, i know you’re smarter than that.” a chill runs down your spine, you tell yourself its not from the sudden realization of your close proximity to him, but instead because of the cool air around you. 

“wait, are you…” he turns to you. “are you jealous?”

you scoff. “jealous? i don’t get jealous e—than,” you hiccup between the syllables of his name.

“you know, i have a tendency to misread situations, but you…” he pauses to take a dramatic breath. “you seem really jealous.”

“okay, sure but…why would i be jealous, hm? it’s not like i make the rules on what girls you can and can’t look at.” you’re staring into his eyes. those wonderful, beautiful, adjective-ful eyes that make you want to start screaming and shaking and crying and throwing up. 

you can’t stop looking at his eyes, and you can feel your gaze flitting between the two.  

you want ethan to quip back with something sharp and cleaver, but he doesn’t. he just turns away from you, shrugs, and keeps on nursing the drink in his hand. 

for a moment, you feel guilty, another feeling you hadn’t experienced in a while. maybe that made you a good person, or maybe that just made you a socially inept asshole. 

you don’t know why you feel guilty, but you suspect it has something to do with how silent ethan is, or how his brows are leaning with regret, or how his shoulder are slumped much more than they were a second ago. 

“i wasn’t looking at her,” ethan mutters, breaking your shared silence. “i was…looking at someone else.”

you want to curse him out because, really, why did it matter if he was looking at another girl? it was someone who wasn’t you, and that’s all that mattered. 

“i don’t care ethan, it’s not that serious—” you cut yourself off when you turn to him, frozen in how quickly you drown in his puppy dog eyes. 

and then it hits you. 

he wasn’t looking at that girl, he was looking at someone else.

he was looking— 

“at you.”

oh.

oh.

you want to say something, you really do. in any other situation, if it played out exactly like this but minus the alcohol, you’d be able to come up with some poetic ass speech about love and devotion and life—

but you’re drunk, and you can’t think. you don’t want to think. 

so instead, you act. 

instead, you kiss him. 

your hands are grasping at his shirt and you’re kissing him hard. you don’t care if it’s sloppy or bad, you just care that you’re kissing him.

and, obviously, ethan cares too. 

because in a moment, one of his hands are brushing the crook of your neck, and his other arm is shaking around your waist. you know your breath tastes like black cherry white claw and dollar store tequila, but with the way ethan was kissing you, it was as if you were the best thing he’d ever had in his life.

it’s like he’s starving— as if he’s been waiting for this for months. and you wonder, passively, if he’d been pining for you all this time as well. you want to ask him, but asking him would mean you’d have to stop kissing him, and at this point you’d rather die than have that happen. 

so you’re quick to pull yourself onto his lap, stradding one of his thighs. you’ve just started to work with the hem of his shirt and god just feeling his v-line makes you dizzy— but ethan pulls away, and you feel your jaw slack at the sight of his lust-blown pupils and spit-kissed lips.

“as much as i want this to happen,” you note how heavy he’s breathing. “i really wouldn’t want to have sex with you on the front steps of a house party.”

you’re standing up with a curt nod, pulling ethan by the hand as you back up.

“also my room is like, twelve minutes away—”

“my house is just down the block, and my roommates are gone for the weekend.”

ethan glances towards the direction that you gestured in, and nearly trips over his shoes as you start walking towards it. 

“yeah, that actually sounds perfect.” 

all the way home, neither one of you can stop imagining what it’s going to be like to get fucked senseless.