#he has to stop eventually it's going to get old soon

[egosdelirium]

So yeah I wrote it

-

"Oh, it's alright. It's alright, Harry, please–please don't cry anymore—"

Sirius can barely hear his own voice over the pained wails of the boy in his arms. Harry's little face is currently burrowed in the crook of his neck, small hands balled up into fists around the fabric of Sirius' printed Queen t-shirt. He'd bought it at the Game Tour of 1980 and had gifted an identical one to Marlene for her birthday last year. She died in it.

A sudden coughing fit makes Harry shake violently; his breathing hiccups and stutters but the crying doesn't stop, not even for a second, which only serves to make the coughing worse.

"Harry! Harry, it's okay!" Sirius tries to put the boy down, tries to lower his own tone into something a little less panicked - a little less on the verge of hysteria - but he manages neither.

Harry refuses to let go of him: the moment he feels that Sirius might be trying to place him on the sofa or the colorful playmat on the ground, he starts struggling and writhing like a wild animal. He clings onto Sirius' neck and shoulders even tighter, grabbing onto cotton and skin alike with unbelievable strength for a one year old, and buries his face even deeper against Sirius' collarbone.

It hurts. Sirius forgot to trim Harry's nails - again - and he can feel his little fingers leaving red imprints all over his back in his desperate attempts to cling on. In all of this, Harry is still coughing, and Sirius has the brief yet horrifying thought that he's going to choke right there in his arms, on tears and snot and Sirius' own skin.

"I'm only going to put you down for a moment, Prongslet. I just need to let you breathe. I just need to check on you, okay?"

Sirius finds out soon enough that trying to reason with a crying baby is about as impossible as doing so with a transformed werewolf. Harry thrashes and screams even louder when Sirius attempts to put him down once more and only stops when Sirius eventually gives up.

The cough subsides on its own, thankfully, but the crying doesn't.

Sirius distractedly pats Harry's back and bounces around a little, like Harry usually likes him to, but it's pretty much useless. The sobs persist, and so do the screams. A quick glance at the clock confirms that it's four in the morning and that Sirius has been awake for twenty-seven consecutive hours.

Remus is not going to be coming back for another week; he's gone to Wales to attend his mother's funeral and decide what to make of his newly inherited cottage in the countryside.

And anyway, Remus is... a difficult topic, to say the least. Still not quite able to balance the betrayal / murder of their best friends with the full moons that try to kill him monthly and the fact that everyone he has ever loved thought him the spy. Pretty heavy stuff.

Sirius didn't have any time to even think of sorting through all that (minus the full moons) because he had Harry to take care of. Turns out dedicating all his hours to his godson makes for a pretty good distraction on most days. But not this past week, no. This week, something seems to have snapped inside of little Harry James Potter, something so dark and painful that has been keeping him up in crying fits during the nights and in irritable moods during the days.

Sirius has tried everything: toys, music, soothing spells, massages, cuddles, all of Harry's favourite foods, stories, and even muggle television, but it has all been in vain.

Harry just can't seem to fall asleep. He can't get settled. He can't find peace - and he is sure as hell not letting Sirius find any either.

"Please, please stop crying. Stop, stop, you've got to–" Sirius forces his eyes shut when he feels the increasingly rising panic get the best of him. He is shaking, from head to toe, much like Harry is, and exhaustion is threatening to make his knees buckle and give out under him.

He takes a shuddering breath, then another. Harry is still crying. Harry is still screaming, right next to his ear. The noise penetrates his eardrums and echoes around his brain, jumping from wall to wall inside his head.

Sirius is going to throw up.

"You've–you've got to stop. Please!" Sirius tries to bounce Harry on his shoulder a bit more vigorously. His joints ache; he's been trying to rock a baby to sleep for the past...what, six hours?

Remus is not coming back for a whole other week, at the very least. Sirius is all alone in the house.

Worst of all, Harry is all alone with Sirius.

He shouldn't, he should be with his mother and fathe— No! No Sirius can't go there or he'll crumble.

He's been keeping it together for weeks, an entire month, so he can't give up now. If he goes there, he won't return. If he crumbles now, Harry will have no one else in the entire world.

Remus is not coming back.

Neither is Jam—

Sirius gasps. His knees finally give out like they've threatened to, and he collapses on the floor, with Harry still securely wrapped within the safety of his arms.

Harry doesn't seem to appreciate their new position, though, and his screams only get more high-pitched. His voice is hoarse, and the more he yells, the more his throat will hurt later on.

"Stop! Just stop! please," Sirius begs. "You've got to stop, I-I-I can't, I can't think!"

Sirius lays his head against the wall he conveniently finds behind him with a dull thud, a little more aggressively than he probably should've. If he gives himself a concussion who will look after Harry?

Remus is not coming back for a week, still.

Sirius' t-shirt is soaked. Tears and snot. Marlene's was soaked in dark red blood, so really, some people have it way worse than others.

Harry cries, he cries and cries and cries, and Sirius starts feeling delirious. Twenty-seven hours. Harry napped during the afternoon but Sirius was too worried about him to do the same, and that had been a stupid fucking choice. Maybe, had he taken that stupid nap, he wouldn't be losing his mind now.

Harry coughs again, and Sirius starts trembling all over again. Full body shivers.

He lifts Harry from underneath his armpits and places him on his lap, lifting his traitorous knees to act as a sort of backrest. Harry doesn't like this, either; he crashes against Sirius' chest full force and sobs right on Freddy Mercury's smiling face.

"Please, don't cry." Sirius begs, again. The world around him is starting to blur and his chest feels heavy. Is it Harry? Or is something inside him finally collapsing on itself?

"You should go to sleep, hmm, it's really late. Really, really fucking late."

Harry grabs onto Sirius' face, pulling at the skin of his cheeks and cries, cries, cries.

Sirius is losing it. Sirius loses it.

"Stop crying! I'm begging you, I'm begging you!" He rises his voice and hates himself for it, but he can't even hear it over Harry's incessant fucking sobs. "Just stop, stop! Stop! Stop, JAMES STOP!"

Sirius doubles over and gasps like he's been hit with a stunner. Why did he—why? His thoughts are muddled; Harry's green eyes stare back at him, little face contorted in pain and anguish.

James does not have green eyes. James' eyes are brown. Actually, James' eyes are nothing because James is dead.

Harry is here, and James is not because James is dead and Sirius is alone.

Something shakes Sirius' chest, shoulders, and ribcage. Harry still has his chubby hands on his cheeks, but they feel wet now.

Sirius realises that he's crying only when he hears himself echoe Harry's sobs. It hurts. His eyes sting and his lungs burn. He wants James, he needs James, and Harry wants and needs both him and Lily.

Neither of them can have that, and Sirius finally understands why Harry can't seem to stop despairing. How scary it must be, in the eyes of a little baby. Sirius is terrified and he hasn't been a baby in a long time.

He takes Harry very gently in the crook of his elbows and cradles him to the rhythm of their heaving chests. Sirius places his own forehead to Harry's, lets his tears fall freely just to mix with the boy's and tumble down their cheeks onto the Queen t-shirt.

Onto Freddie Mercury's smiling face.

Thinking so many thoughts about little baby Harry crying and screaming every night because he misses his parents horribly and Sirius, who's so tired he's almost delirious from lack of sleep and all he wants is to make him stop but has no idea how. And it goes on and on for hours with Harry yelling at the top of his lungs, and Sirius aches

But also Harry's sobbing tantrums kinda validate Sirius' own grief so sometimes he gives up on trying to soothe him, he just holds this desperate one year old really tight to his chest and lets Harry cry out to Lily and James for both of them

[forsoobado137]

Hello 😊 you haven't escaped me yet :)))

Give me your funniest nations revealed au headcanons 🫵

America has climbed the Statue of Liberty a few times. When he reaches the top, he either does backflips or throws it back for the people below. He also does whatever is the most popular dance for the time.

Canada got kidnapped by a concerned mom after she thought he was working too hard. Canada just kind of went along with it because he didn't want to make things awkward.

Spain is always caught doing dumb things on Google Street View.

Ireland gets invited to random people's weddings. Sometimes they try to have him officiate the marriage.

Australia went to the "Gathering of the Kyles" event (I think his human name is Kyle).

England is banned from the state of New Jersey.

[tonycries]

A ranking of JJK men from best to worst during your period (absolutely no one asked for this):

Nanami - Are you kidding me? In what world would this perfect husband NOT be number one?? Doesn't even need that lil' app on his phone to track your periods, bro remembers. He has it mapped out in his brain AND on his calendar. You don't even have to tell him when it starts, he'll be home with chocolates, your fav movies, and enough heating pads to last a lifetime going, "Hi, my love, I hope m'not too early but I got you these." He's never too early. Never.

Geto - Bro has been through the whole process twice already with his daughters. He KNOWS exactly what's going down when you get just a lil' too sensitive, when your cravings become just a tad sweeter. Would lay you down and give you the most soothing massages whispering about how it'll "all be over soon" and "his girl can tough it out." 10/10 is so patient, even has a period tracker on his phone.

Choso - Y'know he's a lil' confused but he's got the spirit. Curses don't have periods so trust he'll be MAD confused wondering whether you've somehow developed the same jujutsu technique as him. When you teach him though, he's gonna be the sweetest babygirl. Let's you cuddle and use him all you want, throw him around to your hearts content until you have the perfect pillow!! Only minus points would be for that little intrusive thought in his brain that just wants to.....experiment......with his technique....

Gojo - Now, you'd be confused about who has the period - you or HIM? Which, honestly if distraction is your go-to then it works out pretty well. Every cramp you get, Gojo just hates to see his pretty baby in pain, so he'd be crying out. He'd be right there moaning and groaning along with you until you're crying tears of laughter because what the fuck?? Extra points because he's a sweet connoisseur and knows ALL the best places to get you everything you want. Trust, bro doesn't skimp out either he'd be diving IN to that Gojo Estate old money just to get you more than everything you need. Much more.

Toji - Now, hear me out it's not that man doesn't know what to do. It's just that he doesn't want to. Not to bully his cute girl, but does he really have to get out of bed and walk the treacherous block down to the convenience store to get you extra pads? Really? He'd much rather stay in bed cuddling you and kissing every inch of your face he could reach - seriously, his old bones are creaking at the very thought of moving. But, eventually, when you do bribe him with a dollar convince him to go, he'd be pampering you and more with your own money.

Sukuna - Bro definitely tells you to "just suck it back in wtf." -3878473 aura for him, but at least Uraume is on your side and gives him a good whack to the head. When he realizes a bit tho would be a bit softer than usual, at least he'll stop calling you his usual names after your sensitive self tears up at them. Mhm, definitely take him to try out a cramp simulator, though he deserves it.

[ckret2]

So a while ago some friends were talking about fans who claim the Same Coin theory is canon. And I made the mistake of saying:

Do you know who also has tons in common with Bill? Mabel. Yet nobody claims Bill reincarnated as Mabel. …wait now I want a "same coin but it's Mabel" AU. Funniest Bill reincarnation option. The all-seeing arsonist is making macaroni glitter art. The omnipotent tyrant is crying because a unicorn called her a bad person.

And then I overthought it for two months.

So—AU where after death, Bill's soul shoots 13 years into the past and reincarnates as Mabel. I'll call it ✨ Sparkly Coin AU ✨

Don't leave yet. Lemme show you why it works. Behold the eerie amount of parallels in their personalities, dialogue, behavior, mannerisms, tastes...

I could have kept going but my attention span ran out. All right, we all on board now? Convinced we could segue from one personality into the other? Great. Now here's why you should be interested: the juicy post-Weirdmageddon angst potential.

As long as a small fringe of the fandom still thinks Weirdmageddon is Mabel's fault, why not amp that up x100 and have some fun with it?

Is everyone sold now? Great. Let's get into the details. I've got 8 more pieces of art under the read more.

So the AU starts the instant Bill dies. Thanks to invoking his deal with the Axolotl—one way to absolve his crime, a different form, a different time—the Axolotl gives him a new shape and shoots him thirteen years into the past. Apparently, the Axolotl thought it would be very funny to stick Bill in the family that defeated him.

Which probably made for a jarring transition.

(It's fine, she's like 10 minutes old, she probably can't even tell who she's looking at. Not being able to tell who she was looking at is what got her into this situation ayyyy)

When Dipper & Mabel come back from Gravity Falls complaining about this triangular jerk Bill, their parents mention that Dipper's name was nearly Bill. See, after they knew they were going to have a boy, one night their mom dreamed about a visitor—some kind of magic pink salamander??—calling her child "BILL." Then at the next sonogram they found out they were having twins, the girl must've been hidden at a weird angle the first time, and they wanted matching names, so they thought, Bill and Bell. But they didn't really like Bell; but eventually they stumbled on Mabel, so to keep the names matching they switched from Bill to Mason. Isn't that the darnedest thing?

(Of course, Mabel and Dipper assume Bill harassed their parents to try to trick them into naming a kid after him. To be a jerk.)

When Bill meets Mabel, he's unaware that she's his future self—Bill's notably bad at doing things like, say, double-checking to see whether he's going to die anytime soon—but like... he can tell something's up.

Naturally, before visiting Gravity Falls, there were echoes of who Mabel used to be—but nothing anyone would be able to identify without context. All her Bill-ish quirks either smoothed out with time (see: how between second grade and fourth grade Mabel went from being the "freak" to the popular girl in class), or else they were accepted by her family as Mabel-ish quirks.

After they meet (and kill) Bill, they have the context to understand some of Mabel's behaviors... and unfortunately, some of Mabel's latent Bill-ness starts surfacing after she's been directly exposed to her prior incarnation.

The part of the Pines family familiar with Bill thinks the worst case scenario is that maybe Bill's survived and is slowly possessing Mabel; but far more likely, they think this is just some weird way of trying to subconsciously process last summer. Mabel doesn't think she's being weird, you guys are being weird, stop giving her weird looks. They get attacked by one triangle and now she can't wear yellow or pick up macrame as a hobby??

(It's not all red flags and uncomfortable triangle imagery, though. When Stan asks her what she'd like as a gift for some important event, she shyly admits that she thinks she's starting to outgrow her plastic gem jewelry and maybe she's old enough to get her first piece of real gold jewelry, if that's not too expensive? And Stan's never been so proud of her. Thirteen years old and already thinking about buying gold!)

But of course, the real fun starts when Mabel finds out.

That's the face of a girl who's just discovered that she tortured her great uncle. Now imagine running into the brother she possessed.

But I've already spent a million words and thirteen images on this post. If enough folks are interested in the AU maybe I'll expand on it later. Let me know what y'all think.

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。YEARS LATER — GOJO SATORU. (rich boy au!)

contents. you and your rich husband, sitting and eating sushi years later on your wedding day. the end of one chapter, but the start of a new one. enjoy your happy rich boy gojo ending. with love, tee bee <3

satoru’s eyes are pretty when the sun sets, almost green instead of that usual icy blue—you can’t help but stare. it’s shamelessly, even. you watch as he brings the sushi to his lips, pausing just before he can take the bite as he notices your eyes on him.

“if you’re so busy staring at me, you might not notice it when your food is gone,” he hums, grinning cheekily at you.

you snort, rolling your eyes as you shake your head. ��oh yeah? then i’ll just make you buy me more.”

“first day and you’re already admitting to marrying me for my wallet?”

you laugh—it’s a free, bright sound that he has memorized from plenty of experience. and it’s his turn to stare as the sun settles in the crinkles by your eyes, years and years of laughter and smiles evident in the lines of your skin. beautiful, he think, you’ve always been so, so painfully beautiful.

your wedding dress is expensive. a pretty, flattering little thing. you buy it yourself, despite his protests. some years ago, you’d have stared wistfully at the price tag and considered the purchase in another life. you’ve come a long way since then—satoru is proud. so proud, he feels an ache building in his chest from the way things have changed as time crept past the two of you.

not a bad ache, perhaps. a dull throb of nostalgia that settles under his heart, in that spot he has saved just for you.

“i don’t need your wallet, you idiot,” you grin, reaching over with your chopsticks to steal from his roll. he lets you, just like he always used to when you were younger.

satoru thinks now, if he could, he’d love to pat his younger self on the back. the version of himself that used to watch you walk out of class without sparing him a glance, the version of himself that ached so badly for a chance with you, he’d collect stars from the sky to trade for an ounce of your love. he’d tell his younger self that he made it—that he’s sitting here, years later with his grandmother’s ring on your hand, eating sushi go after your wedding.

for old times sake, you’d told him when you asked to stop by, we always celebrated with sushi go when we were younger, remember?

as if he’d forget, he wanted to laugh. but he drives over anyway, parking the car in the same old spot as he used to. this time, there’s newly wed! written on the back of the window—and the words miraculously enough crossed out underneath. (he thinks that’s courtesy of shoko, but she doesn’t fess up, and suguru insists it doesn’t matter. soon enough, he’ll get to the bottom of it.)

“are you sure?” he hums, “you’ll have a lot of fun with it, i promise.”

“i think i’d rather have fun with you,” you hum, giving him a small wink as you take a sip from your soda, making his lips curl into a wide grin.

“oh, isn’t that sweet,” he drawls, “i’m a lucky guy.”

“maybe if you’re on your best behavior, you’ll get extra lucky later tonight.”

“yeah?” he chuckles, folding his hands as he sits up straighter and nods seriously, “i’m a good boy.”

“you’re anything but that, toru,” you snort. and then you soften, staring at him as you reach over and grab his hand. he lets you, lacing his fingers with yours as your thumb brushes over his knuckles.

years and years worth of love resides in between your skin. the first time your hands touched him, you didn’t want him the way he needed you to. then one day, they touched him hesitantly, carefully, slowly exploring him with cautious gentleness. eventually they touched him like he was the world pressed in your palms, heavy with the weight of being your everything.

he likes being yours. more than he likes you being his—he’s always had more than enough. but there’s something about giving himself that feels better than taking, better than wanting, better than having.

satoru has always loved you. he thinks the first day you glared at him, he was doomed from the start. he thinks right now, as you stare at him with fondness, he’s even more doomed now.

he doesn’t mind it, not even a little.

“hey,” he murmurs, making you raise a brow for him to continue, “i’m your husband now.”

“i know,” you nod in amusement, “we just got married…like two hours ago. i didn’t forget that quickly.”

“good,” he wipes his forehead in faux relief, “i was getting worried for a second.”

“you’re too much,” you roll your eyes, squeezing his hand delicately.

“now that we’re officially married,” he starts, grinning cheekily as he bats his lashes, “we should list all the things we love about each other. in alphabetic order. you go first, of course.”

“i don’t have to alphabetize it.”

“why? you numbered it or something? is it organized by importance? i’ll accept that too, i suppose.”

“well, there’s only one thing,” you tease.

he huffs, grumbling a petulant, “so mean. all these years and you can only think of one thing? can’t you be a little nice to me in our wedding day?”

“i’ve worked smarter, not harder,” you shrug, “i’ve condensed all my reasons down to one thing.”

“and what would that be?” he pouts.

“everything.”

“that’s cheesy,” he snorts, but there’s a flush on his cheeks that makes you grin, snickering as you lean over and poke at his cheek.

“you’ll just have to deal with it. you’re my husband, after all.”

“did you ever think about it? when we were kids?” he asks softly, staring off at a young couple in the distance with a tiny grin. the boy pulls out the chair for the girl, pushing her in and tripping slightly on his way to his own seat. satoru chuckles softly at the sight.

“think about what?”

“us,” he mumbles, “getting married some day. before we got serious, at least.”

“i don’t know,” you admit, “i didn’t even think i’d date you, to be fair.”

“you hated me,” he pretends to sniffle, “you wanted me dead. you wanted me to blow up into smithereens and leave my poor mother a grieving mess, didn’t you?”

“maybe not then, but i might now,” you sigh tiredly.

“well, i knew i was going to marry you since the first time you insulted me,” he nods proudly, earning a loud chuckle from you.

“you were a little freak back in the day,” you laugh, “i believe it. only you’d be romanced by degradation.”

“baby,” he huffs, glaring at you (his eyes are soft, playful, even. so sweetly affectionate, your teeth could rot), “you should appreciate a man seeing the best at you. even when you put him through the ringer.”

he almost regrets saying it when your hand pulls away from his, but then one by one, your palms reach over to cradle his cheeks, brushing a thumb along his soft, familiar skin as you stare at him like he’s the only thing that matters.

he is, you make him believe. he’s the only thing that matters. the center of your universe. he fought tooth and nail to get there, of course, but he has no intentions of leaving.

ever.

“i will always appreciate you,” you say softly, eyes watering as you swallow thickly, chuckling when a small tear slips from your eyes. “thank you for loving me, satoru. even when it was hard. even when you had to fight to do it. no one has loved me like that.”

“aw don’t start with the waterworks now,” he mutters, looking away and blinking suspiciously enough that you suspect his own eyes are just as teary, “we can’t have you crying for me already—that’s for later.”

“never any decorum with you,” you huff out a breathless laugh.

his thumb reaches over to swipe at your tear, pinching your cheek affectionately as he grins. it’s toothy, boyish, hopelessly and completely in love. even back then, and even right now. he’s always so in love. it’s you—always, from the day you first rejected him to the day you said yes when he got in one knee, it’s been you.

“thanks for loving me too, sweetheart,” he whispers, his own voice choking a bit as he swallows, “it can’t be easy. i’m a handful.”

“at least you’re self aware,” you snicker.

satoru beams—and he’s yours. your rich, spoiled, beautiful boy. all yours to love for the rest of your rich, spoiled, beautiful days.

i cried writing this. what a man he is truly

[supernovasilence]

Ok we all talk about the Pevensies' trauma at returning to Earth at the end of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe and their trouble readjusting to life there again but think of all the funny/good parts too

They return from the country, and their mom is surprised when all her children hug her at the station. Even Peter, who thinks he's all grown up. Even Edmund, who went away surly and withdrawn. She doesn't know her children haven't seen her in over a decade.

They miss their dear Cair Paravel, but they absolutely do not miss its chamber pots. Indoor plumbing is amazing.

It takes a while to remember how modern technology works, though. How many heart attacks did the siblings give their parents or the professor because they walked into a dark room only to turn on the light and find the children sitting there in the dark. (They were by the window! There was still plenty of light from the sunset! They would have gotten a candle in a minute!) The kids sheepishly remember oh yeah electricity is a thing.

(Edmund has a new electric torch in Prince Caspian. He was so excited to get that torch. Almost more excited than you'd think a kid his age would be, and his parents expect Peter at least to tease him, but the siblings all agree light in your hand at the touch of a switch is terrific.)

Suddenly getting really high grades in some subjects and terrible in others. Their grammar, reading comprehension, spelling, vocab, even penmanship? Amazing. History and geography? They don't remember anything. One time in class Susan forgets Earth is round and wants to die.

Also they can never remember what the date is supposed to be because Narnia uses different months and years. They can estimate time really well by looking at the sun though, and Edmund at least can always tell which way is north etc without thinking about it (again, using the sun)

Okay but how many times did they go to pick something up or reach something and realize they are so much shorter and less muscled than they expect? It's a common sight to see Peter climbing on counters to reach a top cabinet, grumbling about how he's High King this is demeaning. (No he never takes the extra five seconds to grab a stool. He will climb that shelf.)

Peter and Susan being delighted because they are no longer almost thirty. (In a few years Edmund and Lucy will tease them about being old and their parents will not understand.)

Lucy doesn't have to deal with periods anymore for a few years yet. Susan might not either. Heck yeah

Lucy loves to climb into her siblings' laps and be cuddled. In Narnia she eventually she grew too big, but now she is small and snuggleable again. Peter is her favorite, and if she's upset, he'll tickle her and tell bad jokes until she's smiling again, but really she loves cuddling with all her family. She grew up without her parents; how many times did she just want to crawl into her mom's lap and her mom was a world away? Imagine the first time she realizes she can now. Or, imagine one day, a cold and grey sort of day, when the rain is pattering against the windows, and it sounds like the rain on the windows of the Professor's house, that first day they went exploring. It sounds like the day they played hide and seek. It sounds so like the rain on the windows of Cair Paravel, that if Lucy closes her eyes she can imagine she's back there, having tea and chatting with Mr. Tumnus before the fireplace of her room, and soon the rain will stop, and they will go out on the balcony and wave to the naiads and the dryads and the mermaids, who have come out to enjoy the rain and visit one other on the banks of the Great River winding past Cair Paravel down to the sea.

But if Lucy looks out the window, all she'll see is the rain over London, so it's not only a cold and grey sort of day, it's a lonely sort of day too.

Susan and Edmund are playing chess in the living room (and they must have studied with Professor Kirke, thinks their mother, because they certainly weren't that good when they left). Lucy goes over to Edmund, and oh dear, thinks their mother, now he's going to call her a baby and be horrible to her, but instead he picks her up and puts her on his lap without even taking his eyes off the chessboard; it's simply a matter of course.

"Doesn't the rain sound familiar?" says Lucy in a solemn, wistful way.

Their mother doesn't know what that means, but her siblings must, because Susan says, "Yes, Lu, it does,” and Edmund gives her a little hug with his free arm as she tucks herself under his chin to watch the chess match.

(Five minutes later there is a crash from the next room as Peter falls off a counter. Their mother does not understand the words he must have picked up from the Professor, but he's grounded for them anyway. His siblings have no respect for their High King, because they refuse to stop laughing.)

[coldfanbou]

Kinkcember Day 5: Cheating

IU gets a naughty on her special day. Who would've thought she'd be like this.

Length 1.8K

IU X Mreader

You prepare for a long day; it’s Jieun’s wedding, and you could not be late. You think back to all the time you spent together going back to college. As you put on your tie, you consider what might change now that she has a husband to look after. Sure, you had met the guy, and he was a good guy, but you also knew marriage could change many things. You hear your phone buzz and go over to check after finishing the last knot on your tie. It was Jieun. “You better get here early; I won’t forgive you if you’re not.” You roll your eyes, thinking to yourself how she’s always like this. Another message pops up, “I mean it, you better get here in the next twenty minutes.” You consider responding to her but leave her on read for the moment. You finish getting ready for her wedding and jet off to the venue, your phone vibrating with another message occasionally. 

You get there early enough to help set some things up and catch up with old friends before the wedding starts. You stand at the end of the aisle along with the bridesmaids and groomsmen. You adjust your pants, feeling uncomfortable now that the wedding has started. Your best friend, a vision of beauty, walks towards her soon-to-be husband on the happiest day of her life. Her soft smile shines through the thin fabric of her veil as she approaches the altar. She scans the room, her eyes moving from family and friends to you and finally to her fiance. Her veil is lifted as she reaches the altar, and her smile lights up the room. Jieun's excitement is tangible; she bites her lip and shifts her weight as they clasp each other’s hands. You can already tell how happy she is to be marrying him.

The image before you is one of pure love—at least, it would be if Jieun wasn’t a cheater. You and Jieun were best friends, but more than that, you were friends with benefits. Her soon-to-be husband wasn’t a bad man, just one that couldn’t satisfy her. You and Jieun were friends with benefits before she met her fiance. While the two of you agreed to stop, Jieun eventually came back to you, begging you to fuck her. After that, she explained that while she loved him and was perfect in every other way, he was terrible at sex. So, to satisfy herself, Jieun would come to you, and she came to you before the wedding began.

A little over an hour and a half before the wedding began, Jieun sent away her bridesmaids, asking them to do some last checks on the venue before texting you. “The room’s empty.” A simple text that told you everything you needed to know. You snuck through the building, making your way inside Jieun’s room.

“Wow, look at you doing this on your wedding day.” 

“Shut up and kiss me,” She answers. You smirk and pull Jieun close to you, nipping at her neck. “D-don’t, they’ll see.” She moans. Despite her protests, she cranes her neck, letting you continue to mark her skin. 

“You can always add more makeup,” you whisper, tugging at her dress. Inch by inch, it rolls down her body, but you stop at her waist. Your kisses slowly move down Jieun’s body; you pause at her breasts, running your tongue around her nipples to make her shiver. Jieun’s breathing sharpened. As you glance up, you see her biting her bottom lip, trying to hold back her moans. “Little Jieun is such a dirty girl, cheating on her soon-to-be husband on her wedding day,” You tease while running your hands over her back. “You’re still going to be my good little whore too, huh?” 

“Mhm,” Jieun hums. She sucks in a breath as she feels your mouth latch onto her breast. “Shit.” You stifle a chuckle and gently suck on her breast, forcing Jieun’s voice to be heard. You Push Jieun back slowly, placing her on the counter and lifting up her dress. Makeup falls to the floor as you take the bride. 

You pull out your cock and rub it against her panties, “Tell me how much you want it.” You tease Jieun, continuing to grind against her as you await her response. “We don’t have all day, you know.” 

“Fuck me already.”

“You know what I want to hear you say.”

Jieun grimaces, reaches down, and pulls her panties to the side. “I’m a cheating whore who loves your cock. Please fuck me,” She says in a monotone voice, making you chuckle. 

“I’m glad you’re admitting it.” You tell Jieun, kissing her neck before plunging your cock deep into her cunt. She arches her back and gasps, feeling your cock stretch her so well. You hold onto Jieun’s thighs and begin pounding away at her body, drawing moan after moan out of her.

“You’re going to walk down the aisle with my cum inside you. What a slut.” You whisper into Jieun’s ear. 

“I know,” Instead of shame, Jieun smiles, liking the thought. You tighten your grip on her thighs and raise one of her legs. You go deeper, making Jieun’s moan louder as she feels your cock fill her. You move at a rapid pace, knowing that you could be interrupted at any moment. Jieun knocks down more items from the counter as you bring her to her climax. Her walls constricting around you as she draws closer to it. You move quickly before ramming yourself deep inside Jieun, adding some more white to her body. You pull out slowly, letting your cum flow out of her cunt. “You better fix yourself up. The wedding starts soon. I wish I got to paint that pretty little face.”

Jieun reaches for you, cupping your cheek and kissing you. “There’ll be a lot of time for that another day. This body is still going to be yours.” She pats your chest softly, “Now get going.” You leave, pull up your pants, and head back to the wedding; you watch the groom stand at the altar for a few minutes, waiting for his bride to come out. It took a few more minutes for her to come out; no doubt Jieun was putting more makeup on to hide her affair. Soon enough, though, she came out and walked down the aisle with her father. The wedding was like any other, and soon enough, it was made official. 

You couldn’t help but look at Jieun in her new dress at the after-party. As the night wore on, you watched her husband lose himself to alcohol and pass out. You took the opportunity to walk up to Jieun again. “Congratulations, you’re a married woman now.”

“Thanks,”

“Look like you won’t get to consummate the marriage, though,” you tell her, pointing to her passed-out husband. You sneak your hand down and grab her ass. 

Jieun purses her lips and glances at you. “Well, I know someone who can help me celebrate this and make it official.”

“So you want to go again?”

“Let’s find somewhere quiet.” You and Jieun sneak off, ending up in a bathroom. When you are alone with her, you wrap your hands around her waist, holding her tightly. 

“Such a bad wife, letting a guest be the first to fuck you.”

Jieun laughs as her arms wrap around your neck, “I wouldn’t let anyone else do it besides you. Now come and fuck me like the dirty girl I am.” You smirk. You lift Jieun, place her on the sink, and lift up her dress. You pull down Jieun’s panties, letting them hang off one of her legs as you rub your cock against her cunt. 

“Considering how drunk your husband is, you can probably get away with a little more tonight.”

Jieun’s eyes widen for a moment, “You don’t mean…”

“Hey, if it happens. It happens.” 

A smile creeps onto Jieun’s face. “Yeah, I guess so. If it happens, it happens.” You rub your cock against Jieun’s cunt, ready to fuck her again when you pull away. “What’s wrong?”

Without a word, you turn Jieun around and bend her over the sink. You flip her dress over her ass and wrap her hair around your hand, pulling on her hair and forcing her to look in the mirror. “I want you this way,” You watch Jieun’s lips curl as your cock pushes past her lips, stretching her for the second time today. She doesn’t hold back her moans as you pull her hair pair back. You bring more pain her way when you start spanking her, each slap turning her cheeks a deeper shade of red as your handprint appears. You feel her walls tighten around you with every strike. Letting go of her hair, you move your hand around Jieun’s neck, pulling her back. “What would your husband think if he saw you moaning like this?”

Jieun bites her lip, imagining how hot it would be. “D-don’t say that,” she says while her walls clamp down on your cock. 

“You like that, don’t you? You want him to see you being a little slut.” You run your fingers across Jieun’s clit, making her body shudder from the added pleasure. This is why she loved having sex with you. You didn’t treat her like a princess; you treated her like a slut when it came time to fuck. “Has he made you cum before?”

“No,” Jieun whines, feeling the tension in her body. “He’s never made me cum,” Jieun forces her eyes shut, feeling her body about to blow. You speed up your thrusts and bury yourself inside Jieun, cumming inside her again. Jieun gasps as her body is pushed over the edge as she cums on your cock. 

“At least someone can,” you tell her as you slowly drag your cock out. “Can you clean me up? You didn’t get to earlier.”

Jieun smiles and squats down, her hand gently grasping your cock, as her eyes run along the shaft. Sticking her tongue out, she flicks the head of your cock before swallowing it. She moans softly as she bobs her head, her tongue lapping at the sides of your shaft as she cleans you up. Jieun’s movements were slow and loving as it went on; she slowed down, let her tongue caress your cock as she neared the end. She pulled back slowly and pressed her lips against your cock before looking up at you with a smile. “All clean,” she says, brimming with pride.  “Remember, this changes nothing. I just need you for your cock,”

“Yeah, I know. Alright, thanks Jieun. Let’s get back to the party before anyone notices.” You help Jieun up and check on her dress, making sure she is presentable before stepping out of the bathroom and heading back to your friends. Jieun joins you a few minutes later, with no one the wiser for what happened between you two. 

[saturnznct]

he holds the baby for the first time | enhypen x reader

➸ note; hehe my first fic back!! very much in my engene era again so expect more enha fics! hope I'm not too rusty

➸ word count: 2159 words

➸ sangyoon, sam, ella, eunhye, yeeun & serin; newborn

➸ warning(s): bloody imagery(?), breastfeeding, premature birth, c-section, mentions of breathing tube

enhypen masterlist

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

heeseung

So much could happen in the span of a year.

Heeseung couldn’t believe that in just one year, you had gotten married, found out you were pregnant on the same day, been through a whole pregnancy, and now your son was finally here.

‘He is the cutest baby there has ever been,’ Heeseung declares once he’s all cleaned up and laying on your chest.

‘You say that now, wait until we get home and he keeps us up all night long.’

‘Doesn’t make him any less gorgeous,’ Heeseung grins, ‘just like his mummy/mommy.’

‘I don’t know if that’s the best word to describe mummy/mommy right now.’

‘No, I think it’s the perfect word. You have never been more beautiful to me than you are right now.’

‘You’re cute,’ you roll your eyes, ‘I hope he looks like you.’

Heeseung turns his head to kiss the side of yours, and in that moment you yawn.

‘Oh, I think mummy/mommy needs a nap Yoonie.’

‘Hmm, I agree… Will you be okay on your own?’

‘Don’t worry about us,’ Heeseung gives you a reassuring smile, ‘you need to focus on getting rest. We’ll be just fine.’

Heeseung ever so gently lifts Sangyoon from your chest, cradling him in his arms.

‘Wake me, if he needs me,’ you mumble sleepily, turning onto your side and closing your eyes.

Heeseung settles on the couch beside the window, laying across it.

He briefly scrolls through his phone, reading notifications and answering a couple of text messages but finds he cannot tear his eyes away from Sangyoon for too long.

After a few minutes, you’re clearly asleep, face relaxed and body rising up and down rhythmically. 

Heeseung whispers to his baby boy. 

‘You’re perfect, aren’t you? I didn’t expect for you to happen so soon but.. I’m so grateful you came along when you did.’ 

Heeseung knows that you can’t really tell a baby’s features for a while, but he swears Sangyoon has his nose. His chest fills with pride.

‘I love you so so much Sangyoon-ie.’

jay

Jay had not stopped crying since the moment his son was born.

The moment the tears would begin to subside, he caught a glimpse of his baby boy laying in your arms and his eyes would become glossy again. If you’d told Jay nine months ago that this is where he would be now, he wouldn’t have believed it. But starting his family with you felt so right, like the most natural thing in the world.

‘He looks exactly like you,’ you mumble tiredly, gently rubbing Sam’s head with your thumb.

‘You think so?’

‘Oh yeah. Daddy’s twin.’

Jay’s heart leaps at the title. He studies Sam’s face for a few moments.

‘You know what, I think you’re right,’ he says, ‘Your genes stood no chance against mine.’

‘M’not complaining.’

‘Good genes all around.’

By now, Sam was a couple of hours old, and you had been doing skin-to-skin with him for some time. Coupled with the exhaustion of the birth, your eyes are growing heavy.

‘God, you must be exhausted,’ Jay notices your worn out demeanour.

‘It’s been a long day,’ you chuckle.

‘C-can I take him from you?’

‘You don’t have to ask, you’re his daddy.’

You sit up a bit, allowing Jay to take Sam from you more easily.

‘Hi baby boy,’ Sam fusses a little bit, ‘it’s okay, I’m your daddy.’

Sam’s fussing quickly turns into weak wails, and Jay’s expression drops.

‘No, no, don’t cry, please- Y/N, I think he wants to be with you-‘

‘Jay. You’re fine, just keep going. He’ll calm down.’

He looks totally out of his depth, but perseveres, continuing to shush and comfort the baby.

‘You’re okay, you’re safe, it’s just me, your mummy/mommy is still here, see?’

Sam eventually settles, cries reduced to gurgles.

Sensing his small victory, Jay is beaming, more than you’ve ever seen before. Again he can’t help but think about how natural but so foreign it feels to have his own baby in his arms.

Jay awkwardly rocks Sam, ‘I can’t believe you’re really ours, my son…’

jake

Through his career, Jake has been able to travel the world and experience so many unique things, but nothing will ever come close to watching you give birth to Ella.

You had planned for a home birth, feeling as though your home would be a comforting setting and make the process easier. You’d pictured maybe giving birth on your bed or maybe even the couch or a beanbag (not considering the mess) so it was a bit of a surprise that you wound up in your large bathtub. But, you had insisted, at the time.

Jake had sat in with you, and with the help of the midwife, had delivered Ella himself. He’d held her for just a moment, holding her under her arms as he transferred her to you, but even just that one touch had him longing for another. Jake knew how important it was for Ella to get to know yours first, so he pushed his feelings aside.

The both of you were so mesmerised by her big shiny brown eyes and little sounds that you hardly noticed the fallout from the birth pooling below you. 

‘We should really give you a hose down, Y/N,’ your midwife gestures to your separate shower, ‘are your pyjamas still laid out in the bedroom? You can get into bed afterwards.’

She leaves to grab your change of clothes while you and Jake make the awkward first handover.

Jake wanders into her nursery while you step into the shower with the midwife’s help. Ella’s hands peek out from the blanket, grasping at the air. 

‘Oh wow, hi baby,’ he whispers, holding out his finger and fitting it under Ella’s curled little hand.

Ella gurgles and spit pools between her lips, which Jake gently wiped away with the blanket. 

’You’re so tiny, almost feel like you’re gonna break.’

Jake slowly rubs her hand with his thumb.

‘Let’s put some clothes on you.’

Jake lays her down on the changing table, choosing a floral print onesie and putting it on her, just like how he learned in your antenatal classes.

He gently lifts Ella up again, taking her into your bedroom to wait for you. 

He tentatively lifts her tiny head to his lips, pressing a kiss to her forehead.‘You’re my beautiful girl, aren’t you? Gonna do my absolute best by you. I promise I’ll look after you, always.’

sunghoon

This was absolutely the greatest day of Sunghoon’s life.

His beautiful baby girl had come into the world safely, and she was everything he’d hoped for and more.

He couldn’t look at her for more than a few moments without tearing up or going on a tangent about how much he loves her and you.

He secretly (but not so secretly) had hoped for at least one daughter, and when you found out Eunhye was in fact a girl, he was ecstatic.

The moment she was born and he saw her for the first time, it was as though his heart had doubled in size, as if it had to grow bigger to make room for just how much love he had for his daughter.

Eunhye was barely two hours old when she fed for the first time. The midwife helped you with the actual feeding, getting Eunhye to latch on properly, while Sunghoon supported you more with encouraging words and helping you drink water while your hands were occupied.

Otherwise, Sunghoon felt a little unhelpful, standing at a distance and just watching. 

It was blatantly so difficult for you. The feeding hurt, your entire body ached and you felt pain all over, and he was essentially powerless.

‘She’s eating well,’ the midwife commented, ‘she’s got a good appetite.’

‘Wonder where she gets that..’

‘It’ll get easier, Y/N. You’ll both get used to it and it will hurt less and less.’

Eventually, Eunhye tries to pull away, signalling she’s done. The midwife turns to Sunghoon.

‘Dad? You want to burp the little one?’

‘Hoon?’

Sunghoon is taken aback, suddenly uneasy.

‘Is it okay?’ He asks you.

‘Hoon, you should take her. Let her get to know her daddy.’

‘Okay, Sunghoon, if you just lift her from under her arms- that’s it- rest her on your shoulder, one hand here, the other on her back.’

Eunhye feels tiny in his arms. The midwife instructs him on how to properly burp her.

‘This won’t hurt her, will it?’ 

’No,’ the midwife chuckles, ‘you’d know if it was.’

Sunghoon’s head is craned around to look at her face, unable to look away.

’You’re doing really well, Sunghoon,’ the midwife praises, and a few minutes later, Eunhye burps, then whines.

‘You’re okay, you’re okay,’ Sunghoon pouts, ‘you’re just amazing, aren’t you?’

sunoo

‘She’s an angel,’ Sunoo is just radiating pure happiness and pride. He practically has hearts in his eyes looking at your newborn daughter, who was cooing in your arms.

’She’s perfect,’ you agree.

Your baby girl’s eyes are only half open, but she’s clearly studying the two of you. 

‘Hi, baby,’ Sunoo says softly, ‘we love you so much.’

‘We really do,’ you smile.

Sunoo leans across to kiss her head, and when he pulls away he rests his hand on her head.

’Her head is so small, fits in my hand.’

‘Didn’t feel very small when it was coming out of me,’ you remark pointedly, and he winces a little.

‘Of course, I didn’t think of that. You did incredibly.’

You could see how eager Sunoo was to be close to her, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. 

‘Do you want to hold her?’ 

Sunoo’s eyes gloss over.

‘Is that even a question?’

‘So no then?’ 

’Shut up, give her here.’

She doesn’t fuss in the slightest when being passed to Sunoo. 

‘Oh hello my pretty angel,’ Sunoo handles her expertly, like he was made to be a dad.

He lifts her up to kiss her forehead, and lingers there for a moment. 

’She smells so good,’ Sunoo chuckles, ‘like a proper baby.’

‘She is a proper baby,’ you point out.

‘You know what I mean. I almost don’t believe she’s real. Don’t believe we really made her. She’s so pretty, it’s almost like I’m holding a doll.’

Sunoo rocks her while shifting his weight between his feet, eyes never leaving her face, warm smile never leaving his.

‘Yeeun,’ Sunoo says suddenly.

‘Huh?’

‘She looks like a Yeeun.’

You mull it over for a few moments.

‘I like it,’ you nod, ‘Yeeun it is.’

Sunoo somehow brightens even more, so proud that he’d named his daughter.

‘You’re my beautiful girl, Yeeun-ah,’ he repeatedly kisses her head, ‘I promise I’ll love and protect you always.’

jungwon

You were thirty-four weeks when your waters broke, and Serin was rushed into the world. 

She was tiny, barely five pounds. 

Jungwon held your hand throughout the whole surgery, and was reluctant to leave your side when Serin was taken away and you were being stitched up.

Serin was quickly referred to special care, and you were taken along with her. 

‘How does she look?’ you ask Jungwon, while your baby girl is getting hooked up to the equipment.

‘She’s beautiful,’ Jungwon holds your hand again, squeezing it gently, ‘so beautiful. She’ll be okay.’

For hours, you feel hopeless. You feel so empty, and you ache to hold and be with your daughter. 

Jungwon convinces you to get some sleep, which after the long day you’ve had, it finds you easier than you thought.

You wake up to Jungwon shaking you gently.

‘Baby, look who it is.’

He helps you sit up while Serin is wheeled into the room in a crib. 

She has patches on her body, to monitor her heart rate and breathing, and a breathing tube in her nose. 

‘She’s very healthy Mama,’ the midwife says, ‘just needs some help with those lungs.’

‘Can- can we hold her?’ you ask weakly.

‘You can,’ the midwife smiles.

You sob when she’s finally placed on your chest and you get to do skin to skin. 

‘Look at her,’ you cry, and when you look at Jungwon, he’s wiping away tears.

He opens his mouth to speak, but chokes out a sob of his own.

An hour flies by and the midwife returns, both to check on you and the baby. You feed Serin for the first time.

‘Daddy, would you like a hold?’ The midwife asks, and Jungwon’s heart skips a beat.

‘Can I?’ he asks you, and you nod.

The midwife helps, keeping the wires out of the way. 

The moment Serin is placed in his arms, Jungwon’s entire world changes.

‘Hey Serin,’ Jungwon says softly, ‘hi sweetheart. You’re our strong girl, aren’t you?’

Tears roll down your cheeks, hormones and stress of the day catching up to you.

‘Our fighter girl,’ he muses, ‘you are so so loved.’

[scififettuccine]

Homelander x SupeTeen!Reader

Idk ya'll Homie has really been getting on my nerves recently. I wasn't exactly sure where I was going with this one at first, but I LOVE the way it turned out. It was a doozy but it was SO FUN to write! This isn’t proof read just yet so please don’t yell at me💀

Summary: You meet your biological father for the first time at Vought Tower after your adoptive mother's unexpected passing...he's not exactly what you expected.

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Homelander (Obviously), death of a parental figure, mentions of death, manipulation tactics, awkward parental conversations???

Being a Supe had never been easy for you, though, luckily you had never been forced to live in a lab. Soon after you were born, one of the Vought scientists had taken you in as her own, -due to the fact that your biological mother had died during childbirth- directly going against Vought's policies. She was found out eventually, to no one's surprise...but this breach in policy gave headway to a new experiment. So, she was allowed to keep you and raise you as her own. You were raised as any other child would be, but you were treated with extra caution...and being the only Supe in school wasn't exactly a cake walk. But the worst thing you had experienced was a little bullying, but your doting, caring, adoptive mother put an end to that rather quickly by talking with the school board. The first 15 years of your life were...tolerable, if not ideal. It was supposed to stay that way...until your mother was found dead at her place of work.

It had only been two weeks since your mother died. In those two weeks, you had been relocated and told, verbatim, that your father was one of the most iconic Supes in the world...Homelander. Now? You were sitting in The Seven's meeting room at Vought Tower, anxiously toying with the handle of the swivel chair you were sitting in. Part of you was still just...numb. Everything you had ever known had been ripped away from you seemingly overnight. Any other child would be over the moon...but you? You were just...detached. You were pulled out of the endless depths of your own thoughts when a voice echoed off the walls of the room.

"Hey there, kiddo!"

You looked up from your anxious fiddling, and were met with the blindingly white smile of your biological father. You did your best to give a convincing smile back, sitting up a bit straighter in your seat. His presence wasn't exactly the most comforting. He tilted his head to the side a bit when you didn't respond.

"You're Y/N...Right? Hopefully we didn't get the wrong kid...that would be awkward, wouldn't it?" Homelander asked with a laugh. He sort of stopped in the center of the room, looking you up and down, like he was trying to evaluate you...to decide your worth. You nod sheepishly.

"Yeah...yeah. That's me." It honestly didn't help that you were the age that you were...it made it more awkward somehow. Homelander didn't say anything for a moment, almost like he was waiting for you to say something else. When you didn't, he sort of chuckled.

"You're not very talkative, are you?" He asked. You had opened your mouth to respond, but he cut you off. "I guess that's understandable. Meeting your old man for the first time is no small feat..." He paused for a moment as he evaluated your expression. "I'm sorry to hear about your mom...tough stuff there, kiddo." You took a breath when he mentioned your mother. It was all so fresh...and there were so many things you had recently learned that she had never told you. You didn't even know she wasn't your biological mother until after she died.

"Mmm...Don't be sorry...not your fault."

Oh, the unknown irony of that statement.

Homelander let out a small scoff and frowned. Admittedly, the frown looked incredibly fake...almost like he was mocking you.

"Still...I can't imagine what you must be feeling. I mean, to find out that she was keeping so much from you...after she died...? That must pack an even worse punch." You sort of stiffened in your seat. You weren't exactly stupid...you could read his tone. He was hiding his insults towards your mother with a cruel, mock sympathy.

"She only did it to protect me...I know she did. She wasn't a bad mom, she was amazing, actually." You respond, almost matter-of-factly, your eyes glowing red ever so slightly. "I know raising a Supe couldn't have been easy for her...she had her reasons." It was incredibly hard to talk about your mother in any way, considering she had only died two weeks ago. Homelander sensed your tone, and put his hands up as he noticed the flicker of light in your eyes. It suddenly became clear to him that you couldn't control your powers, which almost made him smirk.

"Hey now, of course she was...Absolutely no hard feelings towards your mom...But I know I would have never kept things from you like that. And registering you at a public school, knowing you're a Supe? That's just...cruel." You were going to continue defending your mother...until he mentioned school. That was something you couldn't exactly convince yourself was a great move on your mom's part.

"School was...a different story. It was rough." You said, pulling your legs up onto the swivel chair so you could hold your knees to your chest. Homelander nodded as he took a few steps closer to you, his hands now at rest behind his back.

"So I've heard...I spoke to your therapist." That comment turned your stomach a bit. Wasn't everything you spoke about with your therapist supposed to be confidential? Homelander noticed the slight change in your expression. "Don't worry, Y/N...I didn't dig into any of the gritty teenager things..." He chuckled, "I was just curious to learn about your school situation. You're a sophomore now, right?"

"Yeah...I will be. In the fall." You said quietly. Homelander smiled, where he now stood beside your chair at the point of the uniquely shaped table.

"Well that's fun, isn't it?" He asked as he pulled out one of the other swivel chairs and pulled it towards him. "One more year and then you're one of the big dogs." You nodded, watching his movements as he sat down, facing you. Everything about him just seemed so...strange. Even the way he moved. It looked almost calculated...and was mildly unsettling.

"I guess..." You said quietly. You sighed as you rested your chin on your knees, grabbing onto the table to reluctantly turn your chair to face his...it was only polite.

"You don't seem too thrilled..." He started, his blue eyes meeting the identical set that you possessed, "Was school really that bad?" That was more of a rhetorical question on his part, he knew everything about you.

"The teasing sucks...They call me 'Laser Eyes'..." Homelander stifled a laugh when you said that, to which you narrowed your eyes.

"I'm sorry...I'm sorry!" He said with a chuckle, "That is the stupidest insult I've ever heard!" Homelander took a moment to stop laughing before he looked back to you. "Look. I'm not laughing at you, kiddo. I would never. But Laser Eyes...? Really? They couldn't come up with anything more original? I mean...Even I'd be hesitant to insult you considering you could just laser them in half." He said. His smile was almost manic looking.

"What?" You asked, almost dumbfounded. "I would never...I could never." You said. You pulled your chin off your knees, your eyes still narrowed.

"Why couldn't you? You're a Supe...aren't you? I mean...mommy swooping in and bribing administration to take disciplinary action against those little shit stains isn't exactly making you out to be the strongest person..." You almost immediately sat up correctly in your chair.

"She bribed the administration...?" You ask softly. Homelander gave a mock frown as he noticed your eyes become glossy.

"You didn't know? Gosh...How much was she keeping from you?" You swallowed as he spoke and tried your best not to cry. The last person you wanted to look pathetic in front of was Homelander...Especially considering his earlier comment about it not being a good look that your mom always had to swoop in and save you. "Awe..." He started, scooting his chair closer to yours. "Don't cry kiddo...It's not your fault that you're so lost...It's hers." Your eyes met his once again, a tear slipping down your cheek, which you quickly reached up to wipe away.

"Lost?" You ask. Homelander nodded.

"Well, most Supes your age, with your abilities usually already have a professional presence...Or at least know how to use their powers correctly." He said, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly. "I mean, had I raised you? Had you not been wrongfully stolen from me after you were born? You'd already have a place in the Supe community, followers...maybe even a contract with Vought. You wouldn't just be floating in your own little bubble...You'd have a group. A family." Something in you broke when he spoke. Your mother had stolen you from your biological father? And had he raised you, you wouldn't be so...you? So lonely and misplaced? You couldn't help the tears that slid down your cheeks. It was as if your entire life had been flipped upsidedown.

"She...S-she really kept all that from me?" You asked. Homelander tutted softly, almost pitying you. He stood up and held out his arms.

"Come here, kiddo..." He said softly, with a tone of empty sympathy. You almost immediately stood up and buried your head in his chest. At this point....What else did you have? Who else did you have? He chuckled softly as he wrapped his arms around you, his hug firm, considering he was so much larger than you...yet comforting, despite the strange material of his suit.

'It's alright, Y/N...You're right where you need to be. We'll get you up and running with those powers of yours in no time..." He said softly, resting his chin on top of your blonde hair. He caught the reflection of the two of you in the large window that lit the room and his grip tightened, almost possessively. "You're not alone anymore...got it? You've got your dad to keep you company..." You nodded against his chest, sniffling.

"Got it." You responded softly, hugging him a bit tighter. Maybe this wasn't so bad. Maybe Homelander, no, your father was what was best for you. How could you have been living in the dark for so long without realizing it...? You were truly lost. But everything was okay now. You were finally safe, in your fathers embrace.

Homelander smiled wickedly at his own reflection in the window before he rested his cheek on your head. Finally...he had you. His own child that he had been trying to get his bloody hands on for years...Losing another Vought scientist was a necessary sacrifice in the bigger picture of his perfect narrative...and it all started right here. With you. His child. He smiled as he pulled away from the hug, his hands gently squeezing your shoulders.

"How does a milkshake sound, huh? I know Planet Vought has a double chocolate one that's yummers." You smiled and nodded as he moved his thumb to wipe the tears from your cheeks.

"I love chocolate." You said with a small laugh. Homelander chuckled as he turned you towards the door of the meeting room and started walking, his firm hand on your shoulder urging you forward.

"I know."

————————————————————————

I hope ya’ll enjoyed! I left it open for more parts so totally let me know if you’d be interested in reading more. Writing for Homes is always a questionable adventure 💀 Until next time, Adieu!

[ghouljams]

I feel like each of the 141 has a difference preference when dicking down their mate.

Kyle prefers to stay human, it lets him really get a good show while fucking into the pretty thing he managed to take home. Seeing how your skin contrasts to his softly colored sheets is more reassuring to him that you're his than any scenting could be. Also, he's a lighter sleeper as a human, letting him keep you in his bed if you try to slip out while he's asleep.

Price likes the little hint of other, as a sign of his age and experience. He's the only one of the 141 who can shift only a few senses instead of having to start properly shifting. Let's him memorize your scent while fucking you, all so he can let you have the illusion of choice by letting you go and "finding" you again later. Eventually, he'll make it seem like a bit of fate and offer you out on a date.

Ghost partially shifts, and that's the most he can hold himself back when it comes to you. Claws and teeth come out, drool dripping from his maw to your skin. He needs to taste you, to make sure you taste the same. Taste like his.

Soap is a dog and he will fuck you in full transformation because of it. This man needs you on the most primal level, so why not just fuck you at his most primal. It also gives him a better nose to smell your sweat soaked skin, a longer tongue to shove into you, better hearing to catch each and every whimper you make. He needs to consume you and the best way to do that is with his wolf.

At least, that's my thought.

As usual how does it feel to be so fucking right?

Gaz absolutely prefers fucking you as a human, it feels too much like taking advantage of you when he has his semi-transformed strength and the idea of fucking you fully wolf makes him itch a little. He's so worried about damaging you with his claws and fangs :( his poor human mate, he doesn't want to ruin you. We'll, not like that at least. That won't stop him from knotting you, that's a luxury he can't afford not to indulge in. He loves the way you squirm and complain about the stretch, shushing you with soft coos, promising it'll be over soon, even when he knows it'll be a good 20 minutes at least.

Price is old hat at transformations and after years of growing and shrinking it's worn on his joints, if he doesn't have to transform he won't. He'll indulge in the sensed his wolf-form lends him, pressing his nose to your pulse and getting himself drunk on your scent. His eyes are always dark, animalistic, when he drags his flat tongue against your sex, and you worry that the teeth he's hiding might bite too hard, but he hasn't hurt you yet. And the only scare he gives you is when he presses his hand against your come filled stomach talking about pups.

Ghost simply lacks self control around you. The man has the control of a saint, but once he gets drunk on the scent of your arousal it's over for him. He grips you with heavy clawed hands, his skin splitting with fur and his nose starting to lengthen, and it scares you a little. His breathing is uneven, but his hips don't stop moving even when his bones start to break and his joints begin to pop. His drool dripping onto you is the only indication you get before he's sinking his teeth into your shoulder. You'll have to take wolfsbane in the morning if you don't want to end up going through the same pain.

Soap though... Soap fucks you like a dog, literally. He'll hunt you down on a full moon and hold you down with big paws, murmuring canned tones from his open maw about how he can't stop himself. He's all instinct, all panting and howling as he mounts you and ruts his cock against your sex, uncaring what hole he fucks himself into as long as it's yours. He'll lay directly on top of you once he's knotted you too, licking your face in apology but you know he doesn't mean it because he keeps asking for another round.

[alanisinstone]

okay bluecollar!rafe but yall. can we make it MARINE!RAFE?? or more specifically MARSOC!rafe* who works for ward at cameron construction co. on leave?? like hello i need him bad guys.

cw: MDNI smut, cursing, stuff in public, food play, cum eating, military stuff, ass play, manhandling, 1 mention of fighting, recording

*marsoc: Marine Forces Special Operations Command - basically what COD men do

like he starts off as a standard private officer after enlisting when you guys graduate high school. he works his way up from private to corporal to sergeant major, and then eventually to captain, colonel, then general. i mean hes fucking unstoppable, hes blowing thru these ranks like nobodys fuckin business, and he not stopping anytime soon baby he in his primeeee.

he moves on to MARSOC and leads a small team on SPEC-OP missions in like borneo. hes literally the best of the best. his full file is like 4 pounds, full of successful recon missions, confirmed kills, successful captures of enemy targets, accurate tracking efforts, successful counterterrorism efforts, successful hostage rescue and successful direct action raids. when theres a REAL threat? they call LT Cameron. callsign? RAIDER

NOW. when baby comes home on leave he works at the family construction company ward owns, building giant beach houses for rich kooks. he eventually inherits cameron construction when ward gets too old to work and he helps ward retire bcs of the cash from being the most elite soldier in the US military. bae is tannnn bcs of construction work ofc, but also since being in the military he likes to go on runs and be in nature to clear his head. and yall alr know hes yatteddddd, both sleeves done by his boy at home on the cut, who happens to be a very talented tattoo artist (barry...)

strictly keeps a buzz for deployment but will grow out a mullet when hes home. signature gold chain is always on, and has a tat on his ring finger for you and maybe one on his forearm. does he have both ears pierced with fake diamond studs in? yes.

is currently in the blueprint stage for a beach house he wants to build you on figure 8 (and one in florida... and will probably start planning another one if he ends up having a long ship-out next deployment) even tho he despises rich fucks and is suchhhh a country boy. i mean hes like pogue!rafe but hes more of a mudding, dirt biking, bonfire, shotgunning beer, lifted truck, bar hop, football game kind of guy. and the most elite soldier in the US military ofc.

takes you on stargazing dates and fucks you in the truck bed, a big beach towel set down and his head in your neck while he ruts into you short and fast. occasionally gets into bar fights when some dick is tryna say sum to u. is such an ass man and will smack and grope that shit wheneverrrr whereverrrr - has zoned out of convos with people while feelin HIS booty up + loves to grip your pussy with his big ass paw when no one is looking.

has a super firm grip due to years of being a marine and WILL manhandle ur ass around - into various positions, onto the bed or couch or counter or etc., up over his shoulder when you gettin on his nerves. gets actually animalistic when yall fuckin, and yk that boy a munch. growls and grunts sooo loud the whole time.

will take you to the dock and fuck you on the family fishing boat. will christen any new bar yall go to by fucking you in the gross bathroom and carving both your initials in the wall with his pocket knife that ward gave him when he was 15. is kinky af but lets u bring it up bcs he feels awkward talking about it. is sooooo nasty - will eat his cum out of you with his whole mouth, eyes locked on yours, sucking your lips into his mouth. then, when it’s not enough, he drags you up to sit on his face and rubs your clit, watching you clench and letting his cum drip from you right onto his tongue.

will stick a thumb in your ass during doggy, while reaching for his phone bcs the way u throwin that ass back on him? yall bout to make another movie. loves watching you clean him up after round 5, when his dick is covered in his and your cum - will not let you miss a spot, even where it dripped down over his hefty balls to his ass. and he rarely shaves - uncut.

if it’s a hot day, he’ll turn the ac off and find you so he can lick the sweat off every crevice of your beautiful body while he’s fucking you over the counter. both of you completely butt naked bcs it’s hot. has a sweet tooth - will interrupt you while you’re baking and strip you, laying you on the counter like the dessert you are and eating the frosting off his favorite parts. get especially excited when it comes to sweets on your nipples.

honestly if that aint a FEASTTTT i dont know what issss

[icarusredwings]

Thinking about them watching a 'Nam documentary and Wade keeps pointing out guys like "Do you know him?"

"No."

"What about him?"

"No wade."

"Oh! What about that guy? He looks important."

Until eventually Logan DOES recognize someone and perks up like an adopted senior dog seeing it's past owner.

"Oh.. Oh my god.. That's fucking Boot!"

Wade gets excited and is like "Yeah!! Boot- wait whos boot? Tell me about Boot you old beautiful beast of a man."

He starts talking about this bunkie he had while Wades kicking his feet and litsening bc no duh he loves hearing these weird stories and suddenly he stops and is like "Holy shit- that's ME" and sure enough on the screen is Boot and Logan in the back of a truck, reloading a very large gun.

"Why's he called boot?"

"Because he was an amputee so he only ever needed one boot."

"That's.. really sad actually."

"It was hilarious at the time... Anyway.. dosn't matter. He's probably super dead by now anyway."

Afterwards, seeing how bummed out this made him, Wade uses that big brain of his and his annoying mouth to actually FIND Boot (Whos real name is Carl) and as a suprise takes Logan to a nursing home to see a really old Boot.

As great as the gesture is and how happy Logan was for those first couple of days, It soon dawns on Wade that Oh shit... Boots going to die eventually and its going to break Logans heart. What has he done? So now hes emotionally conflicted because yes, Logan was ecstatic to see him but Logan isn't dumb. The mans 83 for god sake.

To be continued..

[enviedear]

HONEY DON'T FEED IT, IT WILL COME BACK

₊ ⊹ JASON TODD

in which working undercover alongside your ex-boyfriend feels like cruel and unusual punishment. like a feral hound—he keeps coming back into your life.

CW | ex!jason, petty old lovers, miscommunication (prior), reader riling him up, cursing, and somewhat ambigous ending (somewhat). 1.7k words. 🎧ྀི

you have to stop letting yourself get involved with JASON TODD. two years ago, fine. but now, you know better. or you should.

working with him is entirely different than being with him—or that’s what you tell yourself. at least vigilantism allows you to ignore his jeers to focus on dodging attacks, rush ahead of him when he tries to bring up the past, or turn off your comms if he grates on you too much.

unfortunately, you can't pull any of your normal tactics this time. not for this job.

you thought the undercover gig selina offered you was a 'one night only' sort of thing, not an entire week. Your mind could never have conjured spending seven painfully awkward days in a honeymoon suite playing blushing newlyweds with your somehow everpresent ex-boyfriend. either way, your current situation is aggravating beyond whatever you're getting paid for this.

besides his usual mouthing off and brooding, jason's been tolerable. like a bad dog gone old, not sweet—but just tired enough not to bite. you’re so unused to jason being docile, it almost aches. and maybe that's why you've been so...unruly.

unruly enough to snag yourself a date while undercover. you knew it was stupid before you did it, but said yes the minute your eyes latched onto jason's. it was the most of a rise you'd be able to get out of him the entire job. it had felt vindicated in the moment. but you played an idiotic hand, his cards trumping yours. for split second he reacted, but just as quickly as it had appeared—it vanished.

he was good at keeping his calm in public, when he had to. but he always boiled over eventually. always saved for private places and so intense. he can’t help it, you think, being so much. he has to let it out, like a poison.

his composure faded for that split second when you both entered back into the suite, voice low, snide, and angry—all to fizzle out with a huff. "go on your stupid fuckin' date. ruin the whole mission. i don't care."

he had said it so nonchalantly. as if merely speaking to you was utterly beneath him. such a reaction was new. in the year you dated him, and the two years that have followed, you've known jason to get mad. you expect it. you can always count on being able to push his buttons just enough. hell, he could count on doing the exact same to you. but the silence that followed his words, the calm way he sauntered off into the bathroom—that completely destroyed whatever game you'd built up in your head.

you got ready in spite of his strange behavior. did your hair, pulled out one of your prettiest dresses, and dabbed on a perfume he had bought you, still half full and primarily only used for special occasions. you left the room with a slam of the door.

the date was terrible to say the very least. he was loud and with a penchant to only discuss himself or his sports betting. you left before you could get your entrée, making up an excuse and promising to definitely reschedule. too embarrassed to return so soon, you took your time getting back to the hotel. three stops and one impulse purchase of a street hotdog later, you stepped back into your honeymoon suite. a cruel fate.

jason's in the bed, propped up with fluffy white pillows and ignoring you, reading an absolutely tattered hardcover. you neglect to break the silence, opting to take your makeup off in the bathroom. your waterproof mascara peels on your lashes, and you can only take so many seconds of scrubbing before you give up.

you pace around the room a bit, lost in thought as you remove your jewelry. you feel undeniably silly for risking your cover for a vengeful and shitty date. selfishly, you still blame jason for it. maybe if he hadn't whispered, "don't mess this up, act like you like me. people are watching." at a couple's excursion, or on a group hike after you laughed at one of his jokes and he muttered, "not too much, it's not real."

he was always on edge and he took everything so personally. the last two years have been a constant competition with him. a brutal tug of war that neither of you can seem to win. where he goes low, you're ready to go lower.

you're broken out of your trance by a firm grip on your wrist, followed by jason's gruff voice, "stop putting your shit on my side."

you look at him baffled, "it's just earrings. sorry i didn't want to crawl all over you to put them on my nightstand."

"save us both alot of trouble if you just didn't wear 'em." he mutters, grip loosing on your wrist. his eyes don’t leave yours, and there's an eerie firmness in his stare.

you yank yourself away fully and glare down at him, "i wasn't aware my existence bothered you so much."

jason rolls his celadon colored irises, "existing doesn’t bother me. you messing with everything does."

there's a beat of silence. you’re not sure what to say back. there's a dissonance now—and it's too quiet. it feels wrong. you wait for the sardonic retort, the simmering anger under the surface. instead, he sits back relaxed, casually tossing his book aside.

"you went on that date to get under my skin, didn’t you?" his brows narrow and his voice is rough, but there's no fire behind it, just resignation.

"does it matter?" you fire back, crossing your arms over your chest. "you said you didn’t care, remember?"

"yeah, well, i lied." he admits, his eyes finally meeting yours fully, the weight of his words lingering in the space between you.

you stand frozen for a moment, caught off guard by the confession. you’re so used to his biting remarks, the endless back-and-forth. this is new—too straightforward, too honest.

“you lied?” you repeat with an inflection, unsure whether to believe him or not. this could easily be another one of his plays, another way to draw you in and then shove you back out again. the cycle.

he huffs, running a hand through his messy hair before sitting up straighter, hands falling to his thighs. “yeah, i lied. big shocker, huh?” there’s a hint of sarcasm, but it’s mostly exasperation. he’s tired, as if he's finally had enough of the game.

you don’t know exactly what to say. so many little fights, all the times you both pushed and pulled, trying to get a reaction out of each other—it all feels hollow now. the tension’s still there, but it’s shifted, less sharp, and more fragile.

“why?” the earnest question slips out before you can stop it. you don’t know if you’re asking about his lie or why he’s admitting it now, but you ask regardless. too nervous to try and make yourself more clear.

his eyes flick up to meet yours, and for once, there’s no mask, literal or physical. just jason. your jason.

“because i do care,” he mutters, almost begrudgingly, like the words are the most difficult thing he's ever faced. “i always fuckin’ care, and that’s the problem, isn’t it? you think i don’t give a damn, but i do. too much, probably.”

jason never talks like this—had never. never let down his walls in this way. perviously the most you got was a huff and a murmured "i'm heading out".

like he’s cracked open a door that’s been locked for years, you’re both standing on opposite sides, unsure of whether to step through or slam it shut.

“then why do you act like this?” you ask, voice softer but still confused. “why do you make everything so hard?”

his lips press into a thin line, and he exhales sharply. “because it’s easier to be pissed off at you than admit how much i miss you. how much i hate seeing you with someone else, even if he's a fuckin' loser.”

“jason—” you start, unsure of what to truly say. a mixture of slight annoyance and reverence sit in your chest, your mind spinning to find the right words, “do you mean this? or are you jealous? because i’m not going to start this up again just for you to push me away when it starts getting serious.”

his eyes narrow, despite himself, “see? much easier when i’m just pissed off at you.” he shakes his head, sighing, “of course i fuckin’ mean it. i don’t lie to you. never have, sweetheart.”

you're still staring him down, the last of your resolve fading out, "you're serious?"

he tilts his head back, eyes closing, "for once, yeah."

you move to sit beside him on the bed, watching your legs bounce instead of replying. jason sits up straighter, and you can see him staring down at you from your peripheral. he's fiddling with his thumbs, a trait you associate with him muddling over his thoughts. probably contemplating exactly what you are: where to go from here?

his fingers brush against yours and he clears his throat, "i don't expect anything. hell—you don't have to want anything to do with me after this." he pulls his hand away from yours slightly, "i'm an ass. i've been angry for... well, a long time. but mostly at myself, for fucking it up with you. and i wanted to tell you."

you take his hand in yours, not missing the way he freezes up at first. still shocked by your comfort. you take a breath before you look up at him, "thank you," you start with what's easiest. "i like it when you care, when you tell me."

he hums, staring down at your interlocked hands.

"i've missed you too, jason. it's no fun pretending i don't." you keep your tone gentle.

a second follows, and then the dam breaks. jason leans into you, resting his head against your shoulder. such a simple gesture, but so unlike jason todd. there's nothing inherently romantic about it, and it's not desperate or solemn—merely human. human vulnerability so rarely displayed willingly.

you don't pull away. you could, and you know you could. but no part of you wants to. you're perfectly fine to sit like this forever. it soothes you in a way you weren't aware you needed soothing.

there's no fight left in either of you, at least none for each other. there's no kissing and making up, no loud voices and slammed doors—nothing like how it once was. just a sincere conversation and baby steps, but in truth, it's the closest you've come to reconciliation in years. and it feels good, healthy—saccharine.

you don't make any promises, nothing set in stone, but you stay like that for a long time. soaking in each other's presence. and when sleep becomes unavoidable, it's jason's arms you ease into.

[nikkento-writes]

Rub You the Right Way - Part 1

Part 2 | Part 3

Pairing: Choso x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Word Count: ~4.1k

cw: female reader, 2nd-person POV, explicit language, explicit sexual content, smut – oral sex (cunnilingus, fellatio), hand job, face-riding, face-fucking, use and mention of sex toys, cum eating

Summary: You've always been cordial with your shy next-door neighbor Choso. One day, you receive the package you've been expecting, finding out a little too late that it isn't your package at all; it's his. What you find inside makes you wonder that maybe your sweet and quiet neighbor has wild side, one you’re curious to see for yourself.

Author’s Notes: This is a repost from my old account! It's the first Choso fic I've ever written and I enjoyed it so much that I wrote a Part 2 and a Part 3 (coming soon)! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are not expected but always appreciated. Thanks for reading! Divider credit to @/fic-dumpster.

The trek home from the office is especially grueling today. Your backpack is heavy with a clunky work laptop that’s been due for an upgrade along with a pile of documents that need to be reviewed ASAP. One hand carries the dinner you bought at the station while the other hoists a heavy bag of groceries you picked up during lunch, thinking it would be productive to get as much of your errands done today before hunkering down for the weekend to do a job that doesn’t pay you enough to work overtime.

You eventually arrive to your apartment complex, making one more necessary pit stop to the mail room. Inside, you recognize the distinct pink-hair of the boy standing in front of the lockers. He’s your next-door neighbor’s younger brother who visits from time-to-time. “Hi Yuji!” you beam at him.

He turns to face you, eyes crinkling happily as he smiles. “Hey! How’s it going?”

You drop your bags to open your own locker. “I’m alright. Got a busy weekend working. And you?”

He kneels down towards the boxes in front of him. “Same, except studying for exams.”

“Are you picking up your brother’s packages?” It’s a well-known fact by now that Choso isn’t fond of leaving his apartment or interacting with people in general. It doesn’t bother you though; he’s a great neighbor who barely makes a peep. Never has he ever rubbed you the wrong way, despite his reclusive nature. Sometimes, through his brother, he’ll give you an offering of cookies from the batch he baked that week. On the days you’re working overtime, he’ll send Yuji to check in on you, making sure you’re not too stressed or overexerted. And on the rare occasion that the two of you meet face-to-face, either entering or leaving the apartment at the same time, your heart skips just the tiniest beat at how his face softens when you greet him with a smile. From these tiny gestures alone, you’ve determined that Choso Kamo is a sweetheart. Quiet, but most importantly, a sweetheart.

Yuji slides the stack out from Choso’s locker, answering you. “Yup. I also had some stuff delivered here, so I figured I’d just grab everything.”

You stare at the small package in your own locker, evaluating how you’re going to carry it to your room in one trip. There’s no space in any of the bags and you’re almost convinced that you can balance it on top of your head as if you actually possess the proper skills to do so (you don’t). “Need help?” Yuji chuckles. Before you answer, he grabs it, placing it on top of a box similar in size on his stack.

“Thank you so much!”

As the elevator rides to the third floor, you continue to chat casually with Yuji. The two of you walk to your neighboring rooms and when he reaches for his keys, the stack topples over, the boxes now strewn across on the hallway floor. He blushes, collecting them hastily back into a neat pile. “I’m sorry, I hope there isn’t anything fragile in there.” He quickly slides you a box, avoiding your gaze to hide his embarrassment.

It's new office supplies you ordered for your workstation at home, so you hardly care even if there is a bit of damage done. “Don’t worry about it, it’s all good,” you assure him, using your foot to push it towards your front door. “Thank you for your help, Yuji. Tell your brother I say hi.”

“Will do. Have a good night.”

Finally home, you drop all your belongings, letting out a relieved sigh. One-by-one, you put everything away: the groceries in their appropriate places, your lukewarm dinner in the microwave, and all your work junk on the dining table, where you’ll be sat at for most of this weekend starting tomorrow. You save the package for later, planning to refill your supplies tonight so you don’t have to worry about it the next morning.

You soon find out that something even better is waiting for you inside.

~~~

Choso is sprawled on the couch, too lazy to cook dinner. He ordered delivery from Yuji’s favorite pizza joint a few blocks away, which should be arriving any minute now, according to his calculations. When he hears the door open, he sits up, watching his brother enter with a tower of boxes in his hands. “I don’t remember ordering that much stuff,” he grumbles, standing up to help him.

“Most of these are mine. I think only this one is yours.” Yuji passes him a small box, which Choso quickly grabs to toss into his room, hoping to avoiding any questions about it. Truth be told, the contents of that box is way too embarrassing to explain to his precious baby brother. Inside is the sex toy he recently purchased online. It’s essentially a silicone cock sleeve, open on both ends for simple clean-up, made entirely of pliable material for ease and comfort. To put it simply, it’s a fleshlight. A state-of-the-art, new and improved fleshlight, he would like to emphasize. He’s been looking forward to using it all week and once Yuji leaves tonight, he’s going to give it a proper test run until he’s a puddle in the sheets.

It’s been a while since Choso’s been intimate with someone other than himself. A few bad breakups and past betrayals have led him to distrust most people outside of his intimate circle. The unpredictable nature of people, strangers, is frightening to him, so it’s better to avoid them completely. He has the luxury of working a job that’s fully remote, and aside from his brothers and the few colleagues he is forced to converse with periodically, it’s easy for him to remain a recluse, and he’s perfectly content with that. As for his sexual needs, he’s managed to make it this far in this drought thanks to sex toys and pornography. And while he’s aware that it’s not the most glamorous lifestyle, it works for him.

“By the way, your neighbor says hi,” Yuji mentions, opening his packages one-by-one. “She came into the mailroom.”

Choso says your name in the form of a question to clarify, though he’s certain of the answer. The only other human contact he has outside his circle is with you, his next-door neighbor. He doesn’t leave the house much, but on the occasion he does, he always hopes it’s you he runs into. He often worries that one day, you’ll realize what a pathetic loner he is and stop showing him that gorgeous smile of yours. So far, that hasn’t happened yet, so he cherishes those tiny moments every chance he gets. Something about that smile, something about you, makes him feel good. Safe. 

“Yup,” Yuji confirms. “She had her hands full, so I helped her carry a package.”

Before Choso can inquire any further, there’s a knock on the door, signaling the arrival of their pizza. After thanking the delivery man, the two gather at the dining table, ready to dig into their dinner. Choso listens intently as Yuji laments on his weekly occurring university woes with a mouth full of pepperoni and sausage. As much as he adores his younger brother, he’s eager for his departure so he can have alone time to break in his new toy.

At eleven, without a crumb left of the pizza and the recycling bin filled with flattened cardboard boxes, Yuji finally announces that he’s leaving. He stuffs his newly delivered items, which includes textbooks, notepads, and a bunch of miscellaneous items, in his bag. “I’ll see you next week, bro. Take care of yourself,” he says, squeezing his big brother into a warm embrace. There’s always the smallest hint of concern in his voice whenever he leaves like this. Does he worry about him? For living a life of seclusion, constantly in fear of the outside world? Sure, it may sound lonely. In fact, it is lonely. But it’s easier to stay safe in the comfort of his own home than risk being hurt from the unknown. It’s better this way…isn’t it?

Choso muses on his brother’s parting words in the silence of his apartment for much longer than he intends to. He decides that the best way to keep him from spiraling further is a distraction, and that means fucking himself silly into temporary bliss until he knocks out for the night. Hidden away in various drawers of his bedroom are a plethora of options to choose from: vibrators, masturbators, cock rings, even the sex doll tucked deep in his closet. Tonight, however, is all about his shiny new toy. Pristine and untouched for him to ruin as much as he wants. He picks it up from the floor, ripping the tape off quickly, too impatient to inspect the exterior for any potential damage. When a stapler drops, almost hitting his feet, he stares down at it, confused. Thinking it’s a weird bonus item the sex shop has sent him, he chuckles nervously, still searching. Each item he uncovers leaves him more and more baffled: a container of paper clips, a wad of sticky notes, bundles of red pens, another fucking stapler. Finally, he checks the shipping label ripped partially from his haste, whatever color remaining on his face draining completely.

This isn’t his. It’s yours.

Which means…

By the way, your neighbor says hi. She came into the mailroom.

She had her hands full, so I helped her carry a package.

Oh fuck.

~~~

It’s near midnight when you’re ready to turn in for the night. You almost forget about the box sitting idly on the floor by your shoes, exactly where you left it a few hours ago. With your computer all set up for work tomorrow, you think it’s best to organize your new supplies before you actually do forget. At your desk, you open the package with a pair of scissors, excited for the new staplers you bought, a standard one and a heavy duty one. It’s surprising how neatly it’s wrapped, covered in tissue paper like some sort of gift. After removing all the extra layers, you finally get to the reveal, which renders you speechless.  

Nestled neatly amongst more delicate tissue paper, the translucent material almost luminous against the dim glow from the lamplight, is a sex toy. Call it what you want: a penis stroker, a male masturbator, a pocket pussy. There’s absolutely no doubt in your mind what is before you. A fucking fleshlight.

Besides the obvious appearance, the dead giveaway is the user manual included with it, displaying in big, bold print “The Cock Stroker 3000 – New and Improved!”. Lifting the box up to inspect the shipping label, you notice that it says Choso’s name, not yours. If you weren’t so stunned by this unexpected discovery, you’d be giggling at the absurdity of it all. Instead, you’re gawking at the lewd gadget, unsure what to do next.

“Fuck!”

An intense shout from the other side of the wall snaps you out of it. That’s the loudest you’ve ever heard your neighbor, and you can only assume that he has also just realized this unfortunate mix-up. There’s no way the two of you can pretend this isn’t happening. Besides, the last thing you want is for Choso to think you have a bad impression of him after this. Because you don’t, not one bit. It’s perfectly normal for people to have sex toys. In fact, it’s healthy. Even the thought of him using it on himself intrigues you. The hungry expression on his face, tongue lolling out of his mouth, those usually pale cheeks blushing a deep red. The obscene squelch of the wet silicone surrounding his engorged cock, leaking with precum. Closer and closer to the edge, ready to burst any second with your lips near the tip, ready to swallow his load…

You almost curse out loud yourself, ashamed for having such lewd thoughts about your sweet, innocent next-door neighbor. But maybe he’s not as innocent as you think.

Ultimately, you decide the best way to move forward from this is to nip it in the bud. With the opened package in your hands, you walk over to his front door, knocking three times. You hear a faint, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” from within, then hurried footsteps growing louder. Without removing the chain lock, he answers, peering at you through the narrow crack, not saying anything.

Nervous, you greet him with the best smile you can muster. “Hi Choso. I think there was a little mix-up.”

He clears his throat before mumbling a short, “Yeah.”

You glance away from him, staring at the floor, too embarrassed to meet his gaze for this next part. “I opened it without checking the label first. I’m so sorry.”

He shuts the door suddenly, startling you. There’s the distinct rattle of the chain being fiddled with and the door swings open fully, Choso towering over you, a serious expression on his face. He shows you a box, revealing all the office supplies you ordered earlier in the week. Without saying another word, you do the exchange, anticipating that this will be the end of it.

It surprises you when he apologizes quietly, focused on the small space separating you. “I’m sorry you had to see that.” He hides it behind his back, as if doing so will erase the image of it from your memory. “You must think I’m disgusting.”

You shake your head, ignoring the instinct to step closer and comfort him with a hug. The last thing you want to do is cross even more lines tonight. “I don’t, not even the slightest. It’s okay, Choso. This is totally normal and totally fine.”

“You don’t have to say that – ”

“But I mean it! I really do! There’s nothing wrong with it!” Desperate for him to believe you, you confess, “I have sex toys too, plenty of them!”

This time, he actually looks at you with a mixture of intrigue and skepticism. “You don’t have to lie for my sake.”

“I’m not lying!” you urge him.

He retreats inside his apartment, speaking once again through the crack. “I appreciate you trying to make this better, but I think it’s best that we never speak again. Goodnight.”

With that, he shuts the door, leaving you with a lump in your throat, devastated. In your frenzied attempt to fix this, you return to your room, searching your bedside drawer for your favorite vibrator. If words aren’t enough to convince him, then maybe actual proof will. Without taking a moment to reconsider the hole you’re digging yourself deeper and deeper into, you pound on his door, the sex toy clasped in your other hand.

When he answers, you shove it in his face, vindicated that you can prove your point with physical evidence. “See? I told you! I have toys too, so there’s nothing for you to be ashamed about.”

He squints at the vibrator squeezed in your fist as if inspecting it like a foreign object. “That’s it?”

You glare at him, offended by his response. “What do you mean?”

He tilts his head to examine it at another angle. “There’s only one button.”

“One button is all I need,” you argue, defensive about your favorite being criticized. “Sure, it’s small, but that’s what I like about it. It fits comfortably in my hand and with just a single push of the button, I can experience three different levels of intensity. What more do I need?!”

He smirks, amused at your rambling. “I just don’t see how something this simple can be useful, that’s all.”  It’s the closest to a smile you’ve seen from him; it has your belly fluttering.

You hold back a laugh. “I bet it packs more of a punch than that Cock Sucker 2000 or whatever.”

“3000,” he corrects, grinning, causing your heart to race. “I haven’t tried it yet, but it’s the best on the market right now.” He hesitates, his next words coming out of his mouth slowly, testing the waters. “Maybe you can show me what your little toy can do. Prove me wrong.”

You never expected this from him, but that’s what makes this exciting. All you can think of in this moment is showing him just how wet you can get. “Fine,” you agree, stepping towards him. “But only if you show me what your little toy can do, too.”

~~~

Never in a million years did Choso predict that this would be the outcome of your bizarre mix-up. You, his next-door neighbor, on his bed, naked from the waist down. Your t-shirt riding up your stomach with your legs split apart, the cute vibrator you love so much pressed to your clit. He kneels in front of you, too transfixed at the erotic sight before him to give attention to the erection strained in his sweatpants.

“You’re next,” you say, glancing at his lap.

He nods, all the confidence he had just a few minutes ago when he initially proposed this idea thrown out the window. Now, he’s back to being his nervous self, afraid to be vulnerable with someone he barely knows.

You set the vibrator beside you, closing your legs. “Are you okay?”

He’s frozen, tempted to call the whole thing off. Go back to being neighbors and nothing more. Go back to being lonely Choso and pathetic Choso, who’s scared of everyone and everything  and –

“Hey.” It’s only now he realizes that the two of you are face-to-face, foreheads pressed, noses touching. Your voice is gentle, your palms soft on his cheeks. You smile at him, full of warmth and compassion. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve been with someone,” he admits. “I’m nervous.” A myriad of what-ifs play out in his head. What if he’s bad? What if you don’t like it? What if this ruins whatever sliver of hope the two of you have at being friends? At being anything more?

“We’ll go slow then,” you assure him, brushing your lips to his. That genuine smile of yours is enough to convince him that it’s worth the risk. That, and how fucking good it feels to have your mouth on his. He closes his eyes, leaning into the kiss, relishing the warmth of your breath. He finds himself gradually losing control of his inhibitions, his carnal instincts taking over, hungry for more of you. He slips his tongue inside, swirling around yours, kisses growing frantic and sloppy. You tug at the collar of his shirt, pulling him towards you. His heart pounds in his chest as he roams your body, fingers grazing your perked nipples from outside your top. You whisper his name, so luscious and sweet in your voice. He’d be lying if he said he’s never imagined it before. How you’d sound whimpering from his touch. How you’d feel between his massive hands. How you’d look with his cock filling you up to the brim.

He can’t stand it anymore. He’s aching, begging for release from the confines of his pants. Quickly, he removes them, freeing his throbbing erection. You gasp, marveling at the size of it. “Oh fuck, Choso. You’re so big.”

“Yeah?” he breathes out, fumbling for the Cock Sucker 3000 beside him. He slathers a generous amount of lube on his shaft and inside the toy. Foreheads pressed together once more, you both focus on his lap, watching it sink smoothly down his dick. The coldness of the lube and rubbery flexibility of the silicone surrounding him is familiar, though having someone spectate makes this all the more titillating.

“Fuck,” you swear, amazed at how it covers his entire length. You ogle at him as he starts slowly, eventually increasing to a steady pace. Your pussy flutters, incredibly aroused to see this man pumping his cock in front of you. For you.  

“Do it with me.” His gaze flickers to the vibrator beside you. “You should feel good too.”

You spread your legs, displaying your cunt to him, already sopping wet with arousal. His eyes follow your every move as you tease the tip slowly up and down your pussy lips. Finding the right spot on your clit, you place your finger on the button of the toy, bracing yourself for what’s to come. As soon as you press it, the vibrations from level one alone are enough to send you wild. Knees shaking, feet flexing, moans pouring out of your open mouth. He continues to watch you, restraining his grunts as he strokes himself faster. Desperate for more, you click the button twice, increasing the vibrations to the max level. Within seconds, you’re coming, back arched and head thrown into the pillows behind you. Tossing the vibrator aside, you stare up at the ceiling, dizzy and disoriented from your ecstatic high, pussy shiny with your orgasm. Choso’s voice is so faint, you don’t understand him at first. You sit up to face him, waiting for him to repeat himself.

“Can you ride my face?” he asks meekly.

More than willing to accept his request, you nod in response, grinning. His expression relaxes and when you lean nearer to him, palm pressed flat on his chest, he even cracks a smile as he’s lies down on the bed, eager to have you like this. You straddle him, facing away from the headboard while his head rests at the foot of the bed. Carefully, you lower yourself until his mouth is pressed to your pussy. His tongue circles your clit slowly and he releases his grip from his toy to hold onto your ass, squeezing the soft flesh firmly. You don’t take your eyes off each other as you rub yourself across his face, his mouth open, swallowing every drop of you. When you reach your second orgasm, you’re practically bouncing on him as he smothers himself deeper, humming in satisfaction as he sucks hard on your clit, flicking it with his tongue.

You lift yourself off him, spent and completely wrecked. Still, you want to touch him, treat him as well as he treated you, make him come as hard as you did. You position yourself between his thighs, admiring the silicone sleeve hugging his dick. “Your turn.”

Sitting up on his elbows, he watches as you grab hold of the toy, stroking him with it. He moans, tongue hanging of his mouth, drool leaking from the corners of his lips, eyes half-lidded. His moans turn into whimpers when you start cradling his balls with your other hand, his body twitching from the sensation. The tip peeks out from the other end, a thick wad of precum collecting at the slit, so enticing that you’re salivating for a taste.

“Your mouth,” he stammers, barely able to speak.

“What?” you ask breathily, inching closer and closer.

“Want your mouth.” He swallows hard, voice trembling. “Please.”

Excited, you remove the toy from him, in awe at the way his fat cock flops heavily against his abdomen. You take him in your fist, loving how hot and throbbing he is in your grip. He’s coated in lube and precum, so slippery with your fingers wrapped around his girth. Unable to resist any longer, you bow your head, licking the pearl off the tip, savoring the taste. He shudders, letting out a loud, “Fuck!”

It’s so much better than a toy. The wet heat of your mouth surrounding him is better than any masturbator, fleshlight, pocket pussy, whatever silly contraption he uses to get by. The swirl of your tongue gliding along the shaft, the vibrations of your moans as you take him all the way to the back of your throat, the view of your pretty head bobbing up and down his lap. Nothing in his collection compares to this. This is real. You are real.

He fucks your throat, unable to resist bucking his hips against you, timing his thrusts to meet yours. It doesn’t take much longer for him to be pushed over the edge. You pull off for a brief moment to smile at him, pumping him fast. “Come for me, Choso. Come in my mouth.”

At this, he completely loses himself, muffling his incessant moans into his forearm, too shy to watch you guzzle down his entire load until he’s milked of every last drop. You scatter delicate kisses along the entire length of him, even down to his balls. Too sensitive now, he pats you gently on the head, making you look up at him, a warm smile on your face. He smiles back, caressing your cheek, thumb grazing your soft skin. You lie beside him, nuzzling into his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow to a steady, relaxed pace. He slides his arm around you, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Thank you.”

This world is a terrifying place for Choso Kamo. But with you in his arms, he feels a bit braver. He’s safe with you.

[revelboo]

I Can Feel You Pt 8

Metroplex x Reader

• You’re not sure how long you’re out, only that you wake up cocooned in a blanket sleeping on the warm floor. And almost wondering if you’d dreamed it all. Sitting up and stretching out the kinks in your spine, you bend forward to splay a hand on the floor, finger tracing out the simple glyphs for hello. “Good morning, big guy.” After a minute of no response, you make yourself get up and shower, your mind lingering on the memory of his body against yours. Whatever it had been, thinking about it leaves you warm as you go about your day. Because in his arms, you’d felt seen and cherished.

• Attention turned inward, he loses track of time. Not sure how long the search takes before he finds one of the three drones, redirecting his energy to the smaller extension of himself. Scamper. He remembers this form vaguely, like dreaming a different life as he flexes servos that are and aren’t his. Forcing this new body to stand and feeling how weak he is, starved of energon. It’s harder than connecting with you was, movements faltering and uncertain before he can remember how to walk. Speaking is even harder, only managing a weak rasping sound as he moves through the labyrinth of himself. Unable to focus on anything but the drone or he loses the connection.

• You talk to him like you always do, but it’s different now. Like talking to yourself, a sense that he’s not there. Not listening. Was that one moment of connection all he wanted and now he’s done with you? You hate the thought as soon as it occurs to you. Try to shut it out, push it into a dark corner of your mind. Surrounded by Autobots, you’ve never felt so lonely in your life. Hurting to think he might have just used you and then lost interest when it had actually meant something to you. By nightfall with no signs from the giant Autobot, you stop trying to reach him, reminding yourself that he lives such a long time that to him, your life is probably the blink of an eye. If that’s true, why bother to get attached to you? Standing outside the home he made for you, you can’t make yourself go inside knowing it’ll be empty. Fingers digging into your upper arms, you go back to your old quarters, the space empty aside from the uncomfortable metal cot that creaks under you when you lay down.

• Somehow, he gets lost within himself. But eventually he gets to the surface, and realizes the scale of his body, the city stretching out around the tiny drone. Can’t get his bearings without letting go of the drone and too afraid of losing it again if he does. Everything’s unfamiliar from this angle even though it’s his body he’s traveling across. Knowing he won’t be able to maintain this link for long makes him walk faster. Finally finding the home he created for you, spark warming as he reaches for the door, because he can touch you like this, has hands to hold you. Only to stop short as he bends and gets the drone’s head inside, too big to actually enter. But he can see inside. Can see you’re not there.

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[imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul]

The Prince - Chapter Two

A/N: Hi all! Thank you for all your love for chapter one! More excitement this chapter, I promise! Let me know what you think and if you'd like to be tagged. It's settling in that we won't see Jace for another two years :( but at least he made it through season 2 safely.

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader Word Count: 4.1k Synopsis: To Jace's distress, the reader continues to avoid him, until a gathering makes the two of them spend an evening together, where feelings become harder to deny.

Tag List: @rinisfruity14, @gaiaea

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Jace needs to see you again, as soon as possible.

The walk back to his quarters, Jace can hardly make sense of his feelings. Years ago, he had known you for a week, and fallen completely for you. In the time since he’s seen you, so much has changed. He knows you can see it, too. When you first saw him, you didn’t recognize the man who stood before you. He knew you instantly. The years had been kind to you, to say the least, but they hadn’t changed the woman he had initially fallen for.

In that time apart, he nursed his crush on you, keeping it close for the dark days he faced. He assumed it would stop being a comfort to him as time went on. He thought, if war ever came to an end, and you did finally come to King’s Landing, he would be past his feelings.

Seeing you again was a bolt to his heart, to his duty. He was to be married in a matter of weeks. He knew he shouldn’t be having these thoughts. But just walking with you, having your arm linked with his, made him feel more than he ever had with Baela. He loves her, but not in the way he wants to love the woman who will be at his side for the rest of his life.

The next morning, Jace is up early. He typically takes breakfast in his quarters, but now that you’re here, he hopes the two of you can fall back into your old habit from the Vale.

He is disappointed when he spends all morning with Lord Celtigar instead.

Jace is not to be dissuaded though. After breakfast, he looks for you in the library. You came to the Red Keep to further your studies – what better place to continue them than here? But after walking up and down the shelves, a task he hasn’t done since he was a young boy, he is left disappointed again.

And this pattern continues. For the next week, the only time he sees you is in passing. You’ll exit the room shortly after he arrives. He’ll find you speaking with Rhaena, and before he can get a word in edgewise, you find a way to dismiss yourself. He is finding it increasingly more difficult to not take your absence personally.

Up until then, he hadn’t been looking forward to the ball his mother was throwing in honor of the return of her younger sons. It had been months now since the war had come to an end, and still, he wasn’t sure he wanted to see so many faces he fought alongside, ones he fought against, who eventually bent the knee. But he knew that going was important to his mother, and to his future ruling. He also knew that you would be there, and it would be another chance to spend some time with you.

The evening of the banquet, Jace gets ready quickly. He waits in Joffrey’s room, teasing the younger boy at his discomfort in his new princely wear. It seems when he was in the Vale, the dress code wasn’t as strict. They walk down to the banquet together, greeting lords and ladies in passing.

Jace sits at the banquet table arranged in the center of the room. The table is already filling quickly, and as he does a quick scan of the guests, he can’t seem to find you. He assumes this is just another way you are going about avoiding him, but his head pops up immediately at the sight of blue in the doorway.

He spots you the moment you step into the banquet hall. The blue dress you wear clings to every curve of your body. The fabric is so soft, it looks like as if it’s made of water – as if one touch could break through its glossy surface. Your hair is down, and cascades down your back in long curls.

Jace is momentarily frozen in awe, but Joffrey elbows him, jarring him back to the present. Just before he looks away from you though, he catches your gaze on his.

The meal progresses as he expected. You are seated at the other end of the table, and although others have moved from their assigned seats and begun to mill about with friends, he isn’t so bold. He stays at the end with his family, watching with growing envy as Joffrey does what he can’t.

The younger boy has moved down the table, greeting old friends and introducing himself to new ones. Eventually, he stops in the empty seat next to you. When you see him, your eyes light up.

Jace watches as his brother tells you a story, making you throw your head back with laughter. He stares at the column of your neck, the easy way you laugh with Joff. As his jealousy grows, he tries to remind himself that Joffrey is thirteen, and it is only because you have known him for so long that you are comfortable around him.

He does not compare the way you look at Joffrey to the way you won’t look at him.

The night grows darker, and the table begins to clear. The guests, all well into their cups, begin to dance and break off into groups to gossip. In his cup as well, Jace finally musters up the courage to move closer to you. As someone gets up from the table, he takes their seat, ever moving closer to you, like he’s playing a game by himself, and the end goal is to be at your side.

When he finally does sit down next to you, your back is turned to him, your attention still fully on Joffrey. The younger prince’s eyes flick to him, and you look back to follow. You let out a small, surprised sound that has Jace questioning everything he knows about himself.

“Your Highness,” you say with a smile.

“Jace,” he corrects, smiling back. He glances at Joff, who excuses himself immediately. You bid him goodbye and smirk as you turn back to Jace. You are the only two people left at the banquet table, everyone else has moved into the room, dancing and drinking.

“I haven’t seen you,” he says, “How are you adjusting to King’s Landing?” Red warmth creeps over your cheeks, which Jace takes as confirmation that you were, in fact, avoiding him.

“It is a lot different than the Vale,” you say with a sigh, “I’m glad to have met Rhaena before I came here, she has made the adjustment easier.”

“You miss Lady Jeyne,” he says simply. Your eyes find his, a sad smile on your face.

“Yes,” you say with a nod. You are quiet for a moment, staring off at the small group of dancers. Jace considers asking if you’d like to join them, when you speak again. “That is not to say that I am ungrateful to your family,” you say, looking at him. He sits up straighter as he meets your eyes. “I am immensely glad to have met you and your brothers before coming here, too.”

“We all want you to feel comfortable here,” he says. “I’ve looked for you—”

“I know,” you say softly, your gaze falling to the goblet in front of you.

“I want to be someone you can turn to, too,” he presses, “I know Rhaena and Balea can get caught up in each other. You can always come to me when you are missing home, too.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” you say. Jace frowns at the title and it makes you laugh. It’s not as hard as the laugh you let out with Joffrey, but it warms him, nonetheless.

“I am having a gathering tonight,” he says, “I’d be honored if you would come.”

“Tonight?” you ask in surprise. “Is this current gathering not enough for you?”

“Mine will be much less stuffy,” he says, again making you laugh.

“Well, I’m not sure—”

“Please,” he says gently. Your eyebrows scrunch as you study his face, and Jace finds the look completely adorable. He bites back his smile so you can’t tell.

“Alright,” you say, nodding your head. “I’ll come.”

“Good. Now, how about a dance?” he asks, holding out his hand.

Jacaerys’s room is crowded, a fact you are grateful for as you enter its warm interior. With how full it is, you can pretend that your stomach isn’t in knots. You can pretend that you didn’t feel your heart flip each time Jace’s hand touched yours as you danced. You can pretend that his eyes didn’t burn each time they met yours.

Your plan to avoid him is going dreadfully, primarily because he seems to have enacted the exact opposite plan.

One dance turned into three, and only when you insisted that you were too tired to keep going did he take a turn with someone else. You watched him all night, the carefree smile that spread across his face when he interacted with his family, the way he always seemed to keep moving, never standing still for longer than a moment.

You are sure to be going mad. Just a week ago, you swore you would not be around him, unless absolutely necessary. Clearly, the crush he had from years ago had ricocheted to you, and you needed to steer far away from him. The evening was supposed to be spent meeting eligible suitors, not spending time with a man you knew was already engaged.

Rhaena stands across the room, talking with a lord you don’t recognize. She knows of your mission here. It is high time you enlist her to your task. But before you can get to her, a curly head of hair appears out of the corner of your eye.

“Y/N,” Jace says, drinks in hand. He extends one out to you. You take a hearty sip. You have not drunk much mead in your life, but if you’re to make it through this evening, you’re going to need it.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

“You know,” you say, turning to him with a smile, “This room seems much stuffier in comparison to the banquet hall.” Jace smiles, surveying the room himself.

“I was not expecting everyone to say yes.”

“Who could say no to the crown prince?” you say. Jace’s gaze dips momentarily to your lips and you look away quickly. You tell yourself he could have been looking anywhere, that maybe you had a bit of mead stuck to your upper lip, but you know better than that. You seem to know him better than that, and you hardly know him at all.

“If you’d like,” he says, “I can find us a spot that’s less crowded.” You should say no. Rhaena is right across the room, talking to a very handsome man. You should be doing the same.

Jace’s hand touches the small of your back delicately, bringing your attention to him.

It might be the touch, or it might be the mead, it might very well be the way he’s looking at you, but you nod. He smiles and presses his hand to your back a tad more firmly, guiding you to a deeper section of his chambers.

He sits you down on a settee along the back wall of his chambers, just outside the door that leads into his bedroom. You are still in the crowd, but back here, it is quieter, and a bit more intimate.

“Better?” he asks.

“Better,” you say, smiling meekly as he sits next to you. Just as quick as he sits down, he gets back up. You watch him move across the room gracefully, stopping to chat with one of his servants. He gives her a kind smile, tells her something that makes her laugh, and pats her shoulder warmly. For some reason, the interaction makes your heart melt.

“Everything alright?” he asks when he comes back, breaking your attention from the crowd. You hadn’t even noticed he moved back towards you.

“Yes.”

Jace doesn’t leave your side for much of the night. He seems content to prove the friendship he offered you earlier in the night. He asks nearly everything about you, even the bad. You tell him about your father, about growing up with your title stripped. He listens intently, his gaze very rarely breaking from your own.

The mead has yet to stop flowing, and your head is starting to ache. You know you should call it a night. The room has begun to clear slowly. Jace sent Joffrey to bed an hour ago, much to the younger boy’s chagrin. There are still at least twenty people in the room, but Jace doesn't pay any of them attention like he pays you.

“What do you remember about your time in the Vale?” you ask, when it seems the two of you have run out of talking points. Jace studies you for a moment.

“I remember it’s beauty,” he says with a coy smile. You laugh into your goblet.

“Yes, I think everyone saw what you admired,” you tease.

“Was I so transparent?” he asks, laughing good-humoredly as a blush creeps across his cheeks.

“It was sweet,” you say.

“I’m sure it was quite pathetic,” he says, grinning at your laughter. “Joff says Lady Arryn found it particularly so.”

“Jeyne never said anything like that,” you say, “She thought it was endearing. It’s not in her nature to be cruel. Teasing, mocking, beating a joke to death? Those are her strengths.” Jace laughs, taking a drink of his own mead.

“So, what would she say?” he asks. “I can take it.”

“It’s stupid,” you say with a shake of your head.

“Tell me,” he says, scooting closer to you.

“She said a lot,” you say with a shrug.

“Y/N,” he goads gently. You look down at your hands, fiddling with the signet ring on your pointer finger.

“She said you fell in love the moment you walked in,” you say quietly. “And that she was surprised a kiss wasn’t included in the terms of your agreement.” He is blushing harder now, but the sight is adorable. He looks like he is going to say something, a half-smile growing on his face, when a guard draws his attention.

You recognize Ser Harrold immediately. He had been loyal to the Targaryens for years and was now Jacaerys’s sworn protector.

“A word, My Prince?” he asks, nodding his head politely to you.

“I’m sorry,” Jace says, standing. You shake your head and watch him cross the room. The loss of his presence gives you a moment to gather yourself. You cannot believe what you just told him. Cannot believe that you mocked his crush on you. If he ever speaks to you again, you’ll be amazed.

Ser Harrold shrugs at his prince, putting his hands up defensively, as if to say, “I’ve made my case.” You watch Jace sigh and move into the thralls of his guests. His first stop is next to Baela.

Whatever he is saying has her laughing, and it makes a strange feeling turn in your stomach. He has spent nearly all night with you, so what if he spends a moment with his fiancé? You want to call the feeling in your stomach anything but jealousy, but alone on this couch, you know that is what it is. You avert your gaze, hoping that if they are out of sight the feeling might subside, but it does not.

It is then you realize, this is not jealousy. Suddenly, a new feeling sweeps over you and in horror, you realize you are going to be sick. If you don’t leave Jacaerys’s quarters quickly, you are going to be sick in this very room.

As quickly, and as delicately as possible, you stand up. You leave your goblet with one of the passing maids, giving her a polite nod as you kept your lips sealed. You make your way through the group of people to the nearest exit and slip out. The hallway is cooler, much less crowded with only two guards at the door.

Your chambers are at least a five-minute walk from here. You are worried you won’t make it in time but are intent on trying. You pick up the hem of your dress to make haste, but don’t even get to the end of the hallway before you hear his voice, calling your name. It isn’t a command, you know you could keep walking, but he is your prince, and somehow everything he says can feel like a command.

You halt mid-step and turn to face him. You are breathing in through your nose, out through your mouth, something a maester had taught you years ago, as the prince jogs to catch up. Some of the dark curls around his face fall at his movement, and you watch intently as he flips them away.

“You didn’t say goodbye,” he says softly as he stops next to you.

“I’m sorry, My Prince, I—”

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Jace?” he asks. You give him a tight-lipped smile, feeling the mead churning in your stomach.

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I wasn’t feeling well.” His expression changes to something softer, understanding.

“Here, let me walk you back to your chambers,” he says immediately, putting a hand on your back to guide you. You arch from his touch and laugh gently.

“You have an entire party in there, Your Highness—”

“Jace,” he corrects firmly.

“Jace,” you say, looking at him with a sigh. “You have a party in there. It is a small walk; I shall manage on my own.” What seems more likely is that once you turn the corner from him, you will vomit into the nearest plant, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“And you are one of my guests,” he says, again putting his hand on your back. “It’s my responsibility to make sure that you return safely.” This time you don’t fight; you don’t have the time to.

You don’t say much on the walk to your chambers, and thankfully, it helps keep the sick down. As you see the door to your room, you let out a sigh of relief. Jace opens the door for you, letting you walk in first before following.

You’re not sure either one of you realizes that he’s in your room, a place he absolutely shouldn’t be, especially at night, until the door thuds close. You turn to face him, your breathing still shallow as you fight to keep the mead down.

“Thank you,” you say, “For escorting me back. I’m sure your party awaits—”

“Y/N,” he says gently, stepping towards you. “I feel like you’re trying to get away from me. I feel like you have been since you got here, up until tonight. Did I do something wrong?”

“No, of course not,” you say, inching away from him, only to be closer to the chamber pot.

“Then why are you running from me?”

“I’m not,” you say, taking another step back from him.

“You literally are, right now,” he says with a laugh. “If I did anything to upset you, I’m sorry. I know I can—”

His sentence is cut off when you can’t fight it anymore. You spin away from him, still too far from the chamber pot, and throw up into a nearby vase. Over the sounds of your heaving, all you hear from Jace is a muttering. You cannot be more embarrassed.

But then, to your immediate surprise, a warm hand pulls the hair off your face, and the other is soothing on your back. You retch a few more times, each time, Jace saying soft, encouraging words you can’t make out. Your maid, Brigitta, must walk in during this, because you hear Jace say something to her.

When you are done, you stand up straight, your stomach settling as embarrassment does, too.

“I’m so sorry, My Prince,” you say, immediately moving away from him, cheeks flaming. You move towards the pitcher of water and take a healthy drink from the glass to clear the taste in your mouth.

“Do you feel better?” Jace asks.

“I feel mortified.”

“Why?”

“Because I just hurled my guts out before my future king,” you say, taking another drink of water.

“I wish you wouldn’t worry about that. And you should be sitting down,” he says, moving towards you carefully, like he’s worried you’ll run again. He guides you over to your bed, sitting down next to you as he props up the pillows behind you. “I sent Brigitta to the maester,” he says.

“Thank you,” you say, relaxing against the pillow. You close your eyes for a moment, letting your stomach settle. When you open them again, Jace is watching you with a soft smile. He blushes when he sees you notice.

“Sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” you say.

“What—”

“I was avoiding you.”

“Oh,” he says.

“I just wanted to focus on my task here, I thought if I spent time with you, it would distract me from it.” A muscle in his jaw clenches but he nods. “And I’m sorry for what I said about your time in the Vale. I was being cruel—”

“You were right,” he says, meeting your eyes.

“I was?” you ask quietly.

“And Lady Jeyne,” he says. “I did really want to kiss you back then.” You can’t move, can’t say anything. “But tonight, after dancing with you, talking with you, bringing you back here, I have never wanted to kiss you more.” You look at him in awe, waiting for him to take it back, tell you he is joking. You can’t help but laugh.

“That cannot be true,” you say, “Did you not just witness what came out of me?” Jace laughs, his curls falling over his eyes.

“I did,” he says, “But I like taking care of you.” Your smile falls into a softer one. You realize how close the two of you are sitting – on your bed, nonetheless. His eyes are on yours, and the intensity in his makes your cheeks warm.

“You are too kind, Your High—” He cuts you off with a gentle kiss to your cheek.

“Jace,” he corrects.

“Jace,” you repeat. His eyes brighten at the name. Somehow, you have gotten even closer still, his kiss bringing him closer. Without knowing it, your fingers are on your cheek, where his lips had been. Jace smiles, and in this moment, you don’t want to fight your feelings. He leans in first, but you follow. Just a breath away from his lips on yours, and then –

“Alright, m’lady,” Brigitta says, walking into the room. Jace is up before you even realize, nodding to your maid. “Maester says this should do the trick.” She hands you a small vial, and then looks up in surprise at Jace. “Your Highness, I didn’t realize you were still here.”

He picks up his head to answer, a blush on his cheeks, a look that only endears him to you, but you cut in, “He was just keeping an eye on me until you returned. I’m sure his party is eager to have him back.” He searches your face, then nods.

“Of course. I hope you feel better, Y/N,” he says, nodding to you. He turns away but you can see the smile on his face as he leaves your room.

You were going to kiss him. Jace is certain of this, as he begrudgingly walks back to his small gathering. You were going to kiss him, and if Brigitta had been a minute later, he would have felt your lips on his.

He had emboldened himself to even kiss your cheek, and just that touch had sent him nearly spiraling. It’s true, he had loved you from the start. Five years older than him, you were everything he thought a woman should be. With lovely curves, a full mouth, and long hair he wanted to tangle himself into, he had fallen easily.

But when you had met those years ago, you saw a boy. He thought he saw the change in you when you came to King’s Landing, but the way you were looking at him tonight, looking at him all night, you saw the man he had become. And it seemed like your avoidance of him had little to do with finding a suitor, and more to do with the fact that you had feelings for him, too.