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aashi-heartfilia · 1 year ago

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The hypocrisy of Jinshi and MaoMao

*light novel spoilers*

I just love how hypocritical MaoMao's nature is. She yells at Jinshi for being a 'Masochist' and yet we see that she's no different. Now, by definition Masochist is a person who drives sexual gratification from their own pain and humiliation, plus it relates to Jinshi's tendency to do self harm (like burning his skin with a brand)

And what is MaoMao's most favourite thing in this world?

POISON

She literally takes pleasure in consuming it and no one can convince me otherwise. Plus she uses dangerous plants and animals and snakes whatnot in the name of her so-called experiments. Her dad may call her a 'mad Scientist' but that is a direct indication of self harm.

And she calls Jinshi a Masochist.

I mean, think about it! The amount of anxiety she gives to Jinshi! She came prepared with a vomit inducing medicine but even she had no idea whether it would work or not. She was just hoping it would work in the salt chapter.

And the same goes for her hand, on which she has conducted countless experiments. One flower even burned her skin and its marks never left her skin. She said it was all for her hobby. What kind of weird hobby is that? Maybe, our little adorable mad scientist is just like that.

One brands his own skin, while the other takes heavenly pleasure in consuming poison.

So my point is, Jinshi and MaoMao are not that different as one might think they are and that's why their dynamic works so well.

Let's look at the excerpts from volume 5:

She didn’t know how long they sat that way. All she knew was that Jinshi was looking down at her with a faintly triumphant expression, as if he saw that the breath had reached every corner of her body now. He wiped away the tears that had sprung to her eyes as she struggled to breathe. It was then that Maomao felt a flash of intense anger. “I said that if you were going to kill me, you should do it with poison,” she told him. “I refuse to let you poison yourself,” Jinshi said, his fingers tracing her lips. “You can’t pretend you didn’t know that you were one of the candidates. As much as I’m sure you’d like to.” He wasn’t done, either: “Who was that man, anyway? I’m sure you’re not a dancer.” So he had been watching them! “I was just paying for my drink,” Maomao said. “It didn’t cost much.” She tried to look away, but with his hand on her head, she really couldn’t.

Jinshi just choked her and yet he refuses to let MaoMao poison herself. A lot of people misinterpret this scene, and don't like it all that much, saying it was just fanservice stuff but this is how I see it: Jinshi wasn't trying to kill MaoMao, he was just trying to make MaoMao submit to him for once (even if the way he did it was very wrong, but guess he's kinky like that). MaoMao is actively trying to harm herself and Jinshi loves MaoMao a lot, he cannot just let her kill herself.

It was more about him trying to exert his dominance in their weirdish - complicated relationship and that also backfires on him as we see in the next volume that MaoMao escapes Jinshi's grasps using Pairin's techniques.

And then they both continue to avoid each other in the entire next volume! Because they both realised that they have crossed boundaries.

They both are hypocrites.

And they both refuse to accept their feelings.

In one of the later volumes, she gives Jinshi a piece of her mind on how he should tell her everything clearly, unequivocally, what he feels, and he literally declares that "he will make her his wife", which is nice and all but look at the wording MaoMao used here....

Excerpts from LN Vol 7, chapter 19 called "A man and a woman play the game"

"You’re forever telling me I need to use my words, Master Jinshi, but are you in any position to criticize? Everything you say to me, everything you do, it’s like it’s calculated to save you from ever having to actually say what you mean! To make me figure it all out! You know, you remind me of someone. You act exactly like a man who used to come by our brothel all the time. He was in love with one of the girls, but he would never just come out and say it. He thought it should be obvious from the way he acted. He was so sure he had a good thing going with this woman that he never sent her so much as a letter. I remember how forlorn he looked when someone else swooped in and snatched her away! He kept coming to the brothel after that—to get drunk and whine to the ladies. Well, in my opinion, he could have avoided all that heartbreak if he’d told the woman how he felt. Clearly, unequivocally, so that she knew where they stood. It was the least he could have done!”

Everything came out in a torrent. She felt like she’d said it all in one breath. It was strange, she thought, to hear so many words come out of her own mouth. She was mystified. Jinshi was no less startled, but the shock soon left his face, replaced by something else. He got up off the bed and stared down at Maomao.

Shit. Now I’ve done it. She’d given him a piece of her mind, and he was about to give her one back.

“So I should be clear, should I? Unequivocal? I should say what I mean? If I did, would you actually listen to me? Is that what you’re telling me? I’m going to hold you to that! Right this minute. I’ll say it all. Don’t plug your ears—listen to me!” He grabbed her hands as she was in the process of trying to put her fingers in her ears. He took a breath. He was looking at Maomao, but somehow he seemed almost embarrassed. Finally he managed, “Now listen to me, y—I mean, Maomao! Listen close! I am going to make you my wife!”

It's one heck of a chapter and I suggest you give it a go! The title of the chapter says "A man and a woman play the game" as if to emphasize the very fact that both Jinshi and MaoMao are playing the game.

Jinshi has never confessed his true feelings before this chapter and only implied that he wanted to make MaoMao his wife.

The implications were heavy though on Jinshi's part, and as smart as MaoMao is, anyone would have guessed that MaoMao was one of the candidates for Jinshi's consort. Even the clothes she received (the ones she wore to the banquet) were also provided by Jinshi along with the hairpin. It is never stated outright but seeing as the hairpin was from Jinshi, the clothes are also implied to be the same.

More or less she's always deliberately ignoring the possibility of having anything to do with him, that is more than professional. Some may call it denial, I call it dense. Maybe, to some extent, she herself is not aware of her feelings because she never lets herself feel anything.

Even Suiren pointed it out pretty early in the manga, that maybe it's MaoMao's way of being reserved. We need to keep in mind that MaoMao is an unreliable narrator and it's more of what she does, rather than what she says that makes a difference.

Even in the chapter that I have quoted above, she had every reason to leave Jinshi, she wasn't working for him after all. But she stayed to make tea for him, even after the fact that she had a long day too. She was almost just as exhausted as Jinshi and yet she was there preparing medicinal tea, so that he could get a better sleep.

Maybe she herself is yet to realise just how deep her feelings run. Till vol 12 she seems to have accepted them, but she still is yet to acknowledge their depth. Maybe it's because of her childhood.

It's not a traumatic backstory but MaoMao had a sad childhood nonetheless....

She was raised by her grand uncle and her real father was eccentric, who scared her. Her mother must also appear to be kind of demonic to her, since she was desperate enough to cut MaoMao's Pinky finger and send it to Lahan. So it's safe to say that MaoMao never received proper parental affection. And adding to the fact that, a brothel is not exactly an ideal place for raising a child.... especially when the birth of MaoMao was the one thing that brought the brothel to its knees...even if being born wasn't her choice.

Plus MaoMao stated it herself that when she was a baby, no one would come to sooth her until their work was finished, implying that even if MaoMao and her brothel sisters are close, they are not that close. A mother's love is different and she never received it. No one can love you more than your mother and MaoMao was deprived of that. She soon realised that no one was coming. Life is hard and she has no choice but to face it!

So, she got interested in poison.

Maybe she doesn't love herself or her life as much as she says / pretends she does. She's always like "yeah, I would very much like my head to be with my body" and "if I stay low profile maybe I can survive here" etc but maybe deep down that's not the case. Maybe that's why she loves poison so much. The implications are crazy.

And to break MaoMao's shell, Jinshi has no choice but to be a bit more forceful at times? At least that's how I interpret that choking scene. Jinshi was angry at MaoMao because she deliberately suggested him to marry consort Rishu and danced with Rikuson.

Even if Jinshi never said it outright, he was giving hints the entire time.

But well the tables turned and MaoMao topped him instead, lol (vol 7) and later we even see that our little stray cat has accepted Jinshi and she's ready to be in a relationship with him (vol 12).

Plus she is intrigued by the process of birth (she wants to eat her baby's placenta, it's kind of uggghhh.... but anyways, that MaoMao we're talking about, she's just weird that way)

Maybe not after too long she'll realise that if she has to give birth, she can only have it with Jinshi and no one else.

~Sunshine

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themeraldee · 3 months ago

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The Lucky Winner

[Masterlist]

18+ Only | 8.5k | Homelander x fem!Reader | Pre-season 1. Voice kink. Oral sex. Unprotected sex.

Summary: You're a huge fan of Homelander but you always feel too awkward to ever meet your hero at a meet & greet or similar events. Your friends enter you into a Vought competition, where you've got a chance to win a phone call from Homelander himself.

Author’s Note: My first Homelander fic! Also, this is the first time I’m publishing my work. Obligatory English isn’t my first language so apologies if there are any strange turns of phrase but I happily take on criticism so feel free to correct me. I want to get better! I’m also not very good with sticking to the right tense. This is very self-indulgent so read with caution.

You can’t decide whether to hug or strangle your friends. They’re trying to be nice, you get that. But this goes against everything you’d ever do! Lovely as they are, they’ve entered you into a competition to meet your hero. To meet Homelander. The thought alone makes your head spin, your heart pound and stomach twist on itself.

‘It was just 20 bucks, what’s the worst that can happen? You win?’ Reads your friend’s message. You roll your eyes, hearing the teasing tone in your head. They know about your not-so-hidden obsession and at the end of the day they just wanted to brighten their friends day.

And sure, you are a fan. Okay, fine. You’re a big fan. Obsessed even. Every-wall-of-your-bedroom adorned-with-posters-and-promotional-materials obsessed. But you don’t want to appear like that. Last thing you’d want to come across as to your idol, you hero, is an annoying screeching fan begging for his attention.

You don’t want to be part of the crowds pawing at him, inching as close as they can just to graze his uniform with their fingertips. You don’t want to look like a feral fan. You have manners. You don’t want to be just another face, just another adoring fan begging for him to look your way. It’s hard to admit to yourself that you’ll never be more than a fan. So you don’t go to meet & greets. You don’t go to premieres. You don’t pay exorbitant fees just to meet your hero.

You’re a romantic at heart. You always imagine the first meeting to be one for the books. Maybe he saves you from a burning building flying you down, his stars and stripes billowing in the wind as he looks at you with concern etched into his handsome face, his piercing blue eyes scanning you for injuries as he talks to you with a soothing rumbling tone that sends shivers down your spine. You can clearly imagine him going, Are you okay miss?, as he descends to the ground. Or you just happen to bump into each other but he catches you with his strong arms and fast reflexes and just like that it’s love at first sight. Scenarios after scenarios. All varieties of ‘meet-cute’s play in your head on a daily basis. You spend your time getting lost in your head, dreaming of the day when it will be your turn to be the protagonist of the story. When will you be the damsel in distress? But you sigh and move on with life, because this isn’t a romance novel.

Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself (and others) when people ask you why you haven't tried to meet your hero.

Oh I just don’t want to be a weird obsessive fan. Plus it’s expensive!

Meeting heroes is technically easy. Vought gives people many opportunities to see their heroes for a pretty penny. They parade their heroes around like exotic animals in a zoo on a daily basis.

For you the reality is that you simply can’t handle seeing your hero up close and personal, let alone talk to him. How are you not meant to get flustered in front of what you considered to be perfection? How are you meant to find your words or even come up with words worthy of being uttered in his presence? You’re meant to look into his eyes, tell him how much of a fan you are and not fluster and burst into tears from the anxiety coiling in your gut as you wait your turn?

You don’t want that. You don’t want to be just another babbling fan. You want to stand out. You want him to remember you. You want him to think about you. But you’re also a realist and you know that at most he’ll think you just another annoying fangirl if he even grants you a passing thought. So you spare yourself those hurt feelings and you avoid meet & greets, you avoid all the fan-targeted conventions, events, promotional campaigns or competitions.

Or you always have. Until now it seems. You again scroll up in the group chat where your friends surprised you with an entry to the newest competition Vought advertised. It was presented as a fundraiser. All proceeds are planned to be donated to Samaritan’s Embrace. A simple $20 entry that would grant you a chance to be one of five lucky winners to get a personal phone call from Homelander.

A fat chance of that, you thought when you first saw the competition announced on both Vought’s and Homelander’s twitter accounts. With a competition that invites Homelander's country-wide fanbase, there really is no chance of you winning. You half-comfort yourself with that thought. You don’t know where you’d even start should you win. Part of you thinks that maybe ‘meeting’ him over the phone could be bearable as he wouldn’t be able to witness just how badly you’re holding it together.

But then you think back to all the videos you’ve watched. The reels and the tiktoks you’ve saved. The podcasts and interviews that at this point you play almost religiously. He's perfect in every way but you're particularly fond of his voice just rumbling in your ear when it gets nice and low as he talks in lengths about the upcoming movie or his most recent save. A while back you bought yourself a decent set of noise-cancelling headphones with great audio quality and suddenly it felt like he was right behind you just purring into your ears. Very few interviews record with good enough microphones to capture how mesmerising his voice is but those that do get saved and played on repeat sending shivers down your spine, following you to bed and invading your dreams. So no, maybe a phone call wouldn’t make the experience any easier on your poor heart.

You calm down after the initial panic reaffirming yourself with the reality where there’s no chance that you’ll get picked anyway. You text your friends again, kindly thanking them for thinking of you as you shook your head with an amused smile. That’s that done and forgotten about.

Or so you think. Few weeks down the line the mental discourse has long left your mind. The conversation moves on and your friends don’t mention anything since. That’s why it’s no surprise when you pick up the unknown call after the third ring with ease, casually answering with, “Hello, Y/N speaking.”

Homelander looks through the list of winners Ashley brought to his desk with a scowl on his face. He’s grumpy, having to jump through everyone’s hoops is grating on him, slowly chipping away at his showmanship armour. This is just another nail in the coffin. Now he has to make private phone calls?

He wants to be revered, loved. With people bending over backwards just to get his attention. Sure, that’s right up his alley. Get the crowds to scream his name, be grateful for his divine presence. What he isn’t a fan of is making others think they’re special. He’s the special one. Where does Vought get off thinking that he’s got the time to call and visit his fans one-on-one.

He rolls his eyes looking through the unimpressive line-up that Vought carefully curated. One of each demographic, trying to hit all the targets Vought wants him to improve his numbers with.

Each candidate has a sheet of talking points assigned to them, things to highlight, mention or even promote to each one of the fans. Normally Homelander would throw Vought’s carefully crafted response straight back to their faces but right now he’s not in the slightest interested in being clever or the fans' idea of ‘authentic’ so he’d rather rattle off a few lines from a curated list of party lines. At the end of the day he doesn’t care for this. Talking to five individual fans doesn’t help him in the grand scheme of things. This isn’t happening in public, there’s no one here to witness his generosity. Nobody to witness a god, looking down and gracing his followers with his benevolence.

Vought believes the individual approach will be worth it in the long run. That apparently fans will come running to any future events and competitions seeing as real people they might know have won in the past. All Homelander sees is at most five twitter mentions from a few nobodys.

He’s got about an hour in the calendar to get through all of these. Though he's banking on this taking a lot less time. There are many more important things he could be doing instead.

He flips through the files again, each profile is filled out with a name, number and a photo, deciding on the least painful order. A young boy, an elderly woman, a middle aged comic enthusiast, some punk teenager and you. Homelander looks at your profile with mild interest. You’re the only one who Vought didn’t manage to find a good quality recent photo of. Clearly you don’t do social media. Yet the quality doesn’t take away from the intrigue your profile inspired. You’re easily the most interesting in the list but that’s not that hard to do. Still, Homelander puts yours at the end of the list. Saving the best for last.

“Hellooo and congratulations! This is Homelander and you’re one of the few lucky cookies who get to have a little chit chat with me.” All air gets sucked out of your lungs and the ease with which you picked up the phone is gone. Your eyes widen, breath caught in your throat only coming out in confused little stutters. This isn’t real. It can’t be!

Whether it’s a particularly vivid dream or your world is actually turning upside down you’re glad this happened at home. Your knees buckle, your ass landing straight on your bed, your legs trembling with nervous energy as you sit down.

“W-what?” You manage to blurt out, more breathy than not. Your heart is pounding like never before. You wouldn’t be surprised if he can hear it over the phone, it feels loud to your ears.

“The competition? You entered, right?” His voice. His fucking voice was right in your ear and you felt like melting into a puddle of goo. Anything to spare you the embarrassing words that are surely about to come out of your mouth one way or another.

“Oh… um…” You are blowing it. There’s no other word for it. Totally embarrassing yourself. Not able to say a word, still trying to calm your heart down.

“Are you not a fan? Have I got the wrong number–?”

“N-no no! No…I mean yes. I mean sorry…fuck.” You are totally losing it. The hand holding your phone is shaking with nervous energy.

“Hey hey hey…. Come on now. Take it easy. Now take a deep breath aaand relax.” His voice is rich and sweet like honey, just like you’ve heard on TV but here it feels intimate. Just for you. He’s not talking to anybody else. As he hears your stuttered intake of breath and a mildly calmed exhale he coos again. “That’s it. Breathe with me. Now in.” If only he knew that this is making things so much worse for you. “And out.”

“I’m so sorry. I meant to say, I am a fan but I don’t do this.” Your voice still trembles with each word but you’re a little more composed.

“What? Call people?” You can hear the smirk in his voice, he's clearly pleased with his little joke.

“No.” You can’t help yourself but chuckle, your lips spreading in a wide grin. Your heart is still pounding but it’s more excitement than embarrassment. You’re actually talking to Homelander. And you have already embarrassed yourself beyond belief but he’s still here! He’s still talking to you. He doesn’t even sound upset. “I mean I don’t meet you guys. Heroes. I don’t really know how to do this. I mean I pretty much live on your doorstep and I’ve never met either one of you.” Now that he calmed you down, getting you talking, you can’t stop talking.

“Really? Some fan you are.” Were you of a sound mind you’d hear the joke but now all you could think is that you’ve upset him. And you can’t have him think that. Sure you’ve always wanted to stand out but not in a negative way! You take it to heart and you apologize.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to offend. At all! Really! It’s just, you don’t need another person begging for an autograph that they can brag with to their friends or sell online for a quick buck.”

He exhales a little breathy laugh that has your whole body flush hot. “Oh, aren’t you adorable.” The panic that was inflating in you like a hot air balloon finally fizzled out. Instead it’s replaced by a throbbing heat in between your legs and you place your free hand over your heart, almost trying to will your body into behaving normally. “You know if you want I can send you some, would be a shame for such a sweet fan to not have anything personalised. I’ll sign it with your name.” He offers, a nice gesture, really, but you are currently having a whole body meltdown to even appreciate it for what it was.

“O-oh,that isn’t—You don’t have to—”

He continues nonetheless.

“Y/N, is it? Beautiful name.” Your name rolls off his tongue perfectly, all soothing and sweet. And there you go, melting into a puddle just for him.

“You don’t have to be nervous. I don’t bite. At least, not over the phone.” You let your hand trail down your body. He’s just talking. He’s just making jokes. He’s just trying to strike up a conversation to make such a freaked out fan of his a little calmer and there you are getting your rocks off on this.

“Sorry. It’s hard not to be. I’ve been a fan of yours for a long while. I didn’t expect I’d ever get to talk to you. It’s kind of you to do things like this for us fans. I’m sure you’re busy. Thank you for taking the time.” You distract yourself from the throbbing that’s just calling for your hand to settle heavily in between your shaking thighs.

“Oh no problem. Wouldn’t be where I am if it wasn’t for all my loyal fans, right?” You should really stop moving your hand down your body. But you can’t help the effect he has on you, you’re not acting normal!

“I don’t know. I don’t think it’s the fame that makes you special. It’s you.” You breathe you all dreamy before realising this isn’t just one of your fantasies. No. You really are talking to Homelander. You cough a little, pretending like you had something stuck in your throat.

“It is?”

“I think so. Change into civilian clothing and I’m sure you’ll still be turning heads.” You speak normally now but you bite your lip at the end, your hand now just above your pubic bone.

“Sounds like you’ve thought about this plenty.” Oh, of course you have. Your body is screaming at you to take the plunge, to slip your hand down your panties, and make yourself feel like this is more than just a friendly fan call. But your mind is, correctly, telling you that this is beyond inappropriate.

“Ah no! I just mean that you’re perfect at what you do. There’s nobody like you. Noone could take your spot. So it’s more than just fans.” You’re surprised you’re still carrying on. You feel like your brain is turning into mush with each word he’s saying.

“What can I say? I take my job very seriously.” He goes on to talk about being a leader of the Seven, you guess he’s just trying to fill space seeing as you’re such a blubbering mess. Even with all his efforts at making this normal, your brain turns all the innocent words into the filthiest dirty talk.

“Look, I’d love to talk to you some more but I’m afraid I’ll have to end it there. I’m late for a talk show interview.” You retract your hand as if it got burnt and instead you grab onto the comforter you’re sitting on, stopping yourself from doing anything impulsive.

“O-of course.” Your heart rate is elevated again, something about the thought of him leaving and you never getting the chance to speak to him again makes you want to scream.

“Tell you what, I don’t want to be unfair to you. You hardly got your prize. I’ll call you later. You free in the evening?”

“Y-yes.”

“Perfect.”

Perfect. You’re fucking perfect. Homelander can’t stop the way his lips stretch into a predatory grin. You are exactly what a fan should be like. Swooning over him. Grateful that he’s even bothering to grace you with his presence. You were practically kneeling, bent over before him on the floor, kissing his feet as he gave you a taste of his divine presence. He has half a mind to take care of the uncomfortable hard-on pressing into his rigid suit. He couldn’t help himself when you were being such a sweet little thing. He feels no remorse at having rubbed himself through his suit as you were there on the other side of the phone, undeniably shaking in excitement, all flustered and tense and most certainly aroused. But no, he wants to wait his turn. He needs the real thing. He’s not planning on letting you go that easy.

Originally he was pissed that most of his time on the phone was taken up by the elderly woman who was talking his ear off. Now he’s thinking about sending her a gift basket. He has a real excuse to see you.

When Homelander wants something he’s like a hunter, doing everything he can to lure his prey into his trap. In this case he abuses his powers to get the Crime Analytics team to dig up your address and in the meanwhile he sits through a mind-numbingly boring interview at a low-tier talk show he really shouldn’t need to waste his time on.

The only thing that keeps him going is the thought that you might be watching. You seem like a big fan. You surely wouldn’t dare miss out on his live appearances. The thought alone gives him enough drive to not laser through the talk show host everytime she asks a stupid question and instead he imagines he’s speaking straight to you.

When the show is over he takes off before his team can steer him towards another boring chore. No, he has more pressing matters to attend to. Like any good predator he observes. He waits until it’s the right time to strike. That’s why he’s perched at the top of the building that’s opposite yours. He’s got a clear line of sight to your apartment but he’s careful in making sure you can’t see him.

He watches, his grin reappearing every damn time he sees you reach your phone, checking if your ringer is on for the tenth time. You are an easy target, he can swoop in anytime and sweep you off your feet but he wants it to be perfect. With sick fascination he keeps watching you, your behaviours and patterns as you pace around your room trying to preoccupy your mind with mindless thoughts. He knows that nothing you do can now fill the void that he left behind. What else can replace the purr of his voice in your ear, soothing and exciting you at the same time. Nothing. There’s nobody like him. You said it yourself.

An hour of self-indulgent watching later he decides to end your misery. You just look so upset and disappointed and he knows you’ll just melt in his presence. He needs to be close to you. He got a little sprinkle of what you're like over the phone and now he’s got a craving for the real thing. He needs to feel you, smell you, hear your poor heart trying to keep up with the excitement right in his ear.

So with a quick drop he descends.

The day has gone by torturously slow for you. You spend every minute checking your phone in case your ringer randomly fails you and you won’t catch the second call from Homelander. Just thinking that makes your thighs quiver. The thought of having him purr into your ear any longer wets your panties all over again. But over the coming hours your enthusiasm deflates. It’s getting late and your chances of ever getting a call back are low.

You emerge from the bathroom, fresh and clean, in your pyjamas ready to sleep today’s rollercoaster of emotions away. Or you would be if it wasn’t for a knock at your balcony door interrupting your thoughts and making you flinch in surprise. The flash of red and blue still so vibrant and colourful against the midnight sky has your breath catching in your throat. What the fuck?!

You open the balcony door in shock, and if you had the strength to do so you would have ripped it off its hinges with pure eagerness. There he is in all his patriotic glory. Homelander. A wide grin on his face, posture ramrod straight as he clasps his gloved hands behind his back, puffing his chest out.

“H-Homelander?!” Your voice quivers at the proximity, your heart picks up speed again and you feel your entire body flush both in embarrassment and excitement. Your first thought goes to how you currently look rather than questioning his motives or how he even found where you live in the first place.

Trying to regain your composure you shake your head, blinking as if he was just a figment of your imagination. Maybe your devout obsession with him is finally damaging your mental state, making you hallucinate.

“Good evening, Y/N.” God, how does he do that! The way your name slips off his tongue so easily, with such familiarity makes you clench and part your lips with a gasp. Any sort of composure you’ve regained crumbling to dust. Now you are just awkwardly gawking, in awe at the unreal figure in front of you, in the flesh. Homelander doesn’t wait to be invited in, strutting into your modest apartment like it belongs to him, the confident strides of his red boots loud and heavy against the creaky floor of your apartment. He takes up the living space confidently, somehow making you feel like you don't belong in your own space. His presence took priority, anything else secondary—you included.

“How did you—” Your question of how he found where you live doesn’t even get fully asked, let alone answered. He cuts in, not actually caring about your justified worry over having your address handed out willy-nilly.

“Our call was a bit too short to my liking. You don’t mind a little late-night visit, do you?” You feel disarmed. His voice turns gravelly, lowering with each word. His tone teasing as if he was telling you a secret, so unlike his television persona where he’s all American apple pie values and open arms with clear intentions. Here, he grinned widely—all teeth with his sharp canines bared to you like the predator he is. Like you’re his next meal. “Ohohoo, would you look at this. Maybe you are my biggest fan, huh?”

You are distracted by his voice, his presence, just him that you fail to notice his eyes wandering around your apartment. Your face flushes red in embarrassment as you see him assessing your safe space, or what felt like your safe space before this ambush, all with an amused grin on his face.

“These are all limited edition. Must have cost you a small fortune.” Holding a breath you watch him take his gloves off one by one, placing the leather on your table with a soft thwack. It feels forbidden, not meant for your eyes. The public doesn’t get to see Homelander as anything other than perfect. His image manicured, perfected to the tiniest details. Seeing his surprisingly elegant bare hands, this up close feels intimate yet threatening like he’s unsheathed his sword, revealing one of the many hidden weapons he can use against you.

You watch as he brushes his fingers against limited edition action figurines, box sets, posters and trinkets featuring his likeness or the logo emblem Vought associates with him. If it was anyone else you’d tell them to keep their paws away from your most prized possessions but it's Homelander. Who else gets the right to touch special limited edition merchandise of his own likeness?

You watch as he paces the room with an unreadable expression. The embarrassment you feel transforms into an apology, heavy on your tongue as you force your mouth open, letting your shame out into the world. It’s hard not to feel overwhelmed in his presence.

“I-I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” He turns his head over his shoulder with a curious expression. A swoop of his blonde hair handsomely falling into his face. He puts down one of the figurines he picked up earlier as he scouted the area.

“All this stuff.” You wave your hand around, the grand display of what can only be described as the Church of Homelander, a shrine dedicated to his divine existence. You see how it looks, how it makes you look like a rabid fan. Though you’re anything but. “I know it’s a little strange. I don’t want to make you feel like a museum piece. Or-or-or a circus animal! I just admire you. A lot.”

“You do?”

“I do.” Your breath catches in your throat as he turns around fully, facing you head on, one slow step inching towards you at a time. You gulp, feeling like you’re left in the dark regarding his intentions as you hopelessly struggle to read him. On the opposite spectrum you’re there, an open book, your heart on your sleeve, your every thought written so clearly on your face you may as well give him your diary to flip through. “More than anything.” Breathlessly you add, meeting his eyes as a challenge. You’re devout, as loyal as it gets. You’d do anything for him if he asked.

Homelander rises to your mental challenge with a grin so sharp you feel the metaphorical bite coming before he even opens his mouth as he steps closer. He’s so close now. Any ordinary man could feel the thud of your heartbeat, but to his keen senses it’s a war drum and he’s marching to a battle he’s already won. His bare, elegant hands make their way to your jaw caressing it with a surprising gentleness. You flinch. Even though you watched it happen with wide eyes, you didn’t expect his hands to leave you unmarred. You almost expect your skin to sizzle, unworthy of his divine touch.

Homelander’s grin disappears, his tongue gliding along his teeth as if he’s cleaning them before he devours his next meal. All that leaves you is a little whimper before he pulls you in, his hands thrumming with incomprehensible strength as he kisses you. He kisses the air out of your lungs as if you could survive without it like he can. As if you could meet him in the middle. But dammit you do your best to. He’s a passionate kisser, incapable of sticking to soft kisses. No, he devours. He licks your lips open, his tongue gliding along yours. You brace your hands against his chest, already feeling weak in the knees. The heat of his breath and the wetness of his tongue in your mouth is nothing compared to how hot and wet you feel in your panties.

It doesn’t help that he’s vocal. You kiss him harder anytime he growls or moans into your lips, his voice vibrating against your lips just possessing you more. And soon it turns into a game of who can dish it out harder. Each devoted kiss makes him hum and purr which in turn melts you into a pile of goo, making you kiss him harder. Your lips feel hot, swollen from the ferocious kissing. You’re nearing the limit of what your lungs can manage without resurfacing for air.

Homelander pulls away but he doesn’t give you any time to recover. As if you could. How do you recover from that? Instead he’s adamant about making your heartbeat hit record heights. His hands glide down your body, featherlight touches that make your skin break out into goosebumps as he settles on your hips, trailing the waistband of your pants. His pink wet lips spread into another predatory smile and before you know it he leans closer to your ear, practically purring, “Tell me, if I take these off will I find you wearing Homelander panties too?”

Flustered squeak escapes you as he laughs wholeheartedly at your embarrassment. You know he knows. He’s teasing you for a reason. “They’re comfortable.” You eventually grumble, pouting like a child getting caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“I bet they are.” He sinks down to one knee, his hands taking the waistband of your pants with him as he pulls them down over your thighs, letting the fabric pool by your ankles. He pats your ankle, prompting you to step out of them. You comply, kicking the fabric away earning a little word of praise from him. “Attagirl.” You’re visibly trembling as he kneels in front of you, his eyes locked on the sight of your blue panties with his emblem and name right across the middle in gold, all accentuated by a red trim. It would be far from sexy in any other circumstance but he purrs at the sight. All pleased like the cat that got the cream. “Got my name across your pussy all day long?”

Before you could react like any other person would, he hooked one of your legs over his shoulder. You yelp, losing your balance trying to grab onto his head or shoulders for support but he puts his arm on your back, sliding it right under your top keeping you straight and secure whether you want it or not. You’re not leaving until he says so. “Might as well fucking taste it seeing as it’s already mine, don’t you think?” He gives you a hungry look licking his lips before hoisting your other leg over his shoulder, standing up with ease. He walks you back against a wall as he eagerly inhales the scent of you, his head perfectly in between your warm thighs.

“Woah!” You stabilise yourself, finally having more surface to lean against. The fabric of your top glides along the surface of the glossy posters he has you pressed against. Making you the centerpiece, surrounding you with his likeness. You finally process what the fuck is happening as you feel his nose pressing into the soaked fabric of your panties. “Homelander! Y-you….ohh…” You whimper, your hands automatically finding comfort and safety in between his golden locks.

“Fuck you smell good.” Homelander growls, his hands now on your ass, holding you in place as he sticks his tongue out, pressing it wetly over your soaked panties. The taste of you already coating all his taste buds.

“O-oh fffuuck. OH god…yes…yes please.” You don’t stop yourself from moaning freely, the time for embarrassment long gone as Homelander lifts one hand from your ass, impatiently pulling the fabric of your Homelander panties to the side, his tongue already slipping in for a taste before his hand even makes it back to squeeze your ass. “Taste just as fucking good.” His voice strained, uttering filth in between your thighs.

His thick tongue pushes through the slit of your weeping pussy, lapping up what you’ve so graciously prepared just for him. And as you watch a mop of blonde hair greedily slurp at your wetness like he’s parched, you think back to the fantasies that drove you to orgasm after orgasm as the imaginary Homelander ate your pussy.

Well, for one the real thing is a lot more enthusiastic than you ever imagined him to be. He is sucking on your clit in rhythm that has you throb harder, making your toes curl. “Ohhh, Homelander!” You reward him with a loud moan of his name, like a prayer on your lips. And you repeat it with each masterful lick around your clit that has you squirming in his hold, legs quivering around his head, fingers tugging at his hair.

The second thing you never considered was how much his powers would come into play. Here he is with a deathly strong iron grip around your ass, easily holding you up on his shoulders against the wall while pushing you as close into his face as he can. The thought of not being able to escape his grip exhilarates you as much as it terrifies you. His lack of need for air makes him a perfect devout lover. Because this is pure devotion except it seems he forgot who was meant to worship who.

You’d be embarrassed by the obscene sounds you two are making if it didn’t feel so good. You moan for him prettily as he licks up all the wetness he’s coaxing out of you. You breath hitches as you feel your orgasm building. He's consistent, giving you just the right pressure. Homelander looks up at you, eyes glassy and blown back with lust before he swiftly repositions you, needing just one arm to make you feel weightless yet secure in his hold as he takes his free hand plunging two fingers into you revelling in the feeling of your cunt clenching around him.

“Oh there there there! Ahhh!” You guide him, his fingers pumping into you and with his tongue still working magic on your clit you whimper out, “oh fuck, I’m gonna, I’m gonna–.” You fall apart in his arms, cumming on Homelander’s tongue like you’ve imagined many times over. With you thrashing around you rip the poster right behind you unaware of the mess you’re leaving behind. He licks you through the waves crashing through you. He’s smug, you can feel the smirk against your pussy as he gives it one more kiss before easily slipping you off his shoulders, preening with satisfaction. “Mhmm you did so good.” His voice purred and even in your post-orgasm haze you flush with fresh heat at the praise.

He gives you time to compose yourself but you don’t want it. You want him. You need him. Your legs feel like jelly so you immediately sink to your knees, nuzzling your face into his crotch. Too eager to wait. Homelander cooed at your enthusiasm, “Look at that. Didn’t even have to tell you.” He chuckles, voice thick with lust, his lips and chin still glistening from the way he feasted on you.

Wobbly and out of your mind, you reach for his belt, unable to figure out how to unclasp it, your dexterity not quite there either to be able to wiggle the hem of his pants underneath it and pull them down.

You look up at him with the face of a kitten that’s not getting what it wants. Pouting and pleading for help.

“Christ, let me help you with that.” Homelander unclasps his belt, letting it hit the floor with a loud and heavy clang and the thought of it denting the cheap flooring doesn’t even graze your mind. He unzips his pants and the hiss alone makes your mouth water. He pushes his pants a little lower and you stare wide eyed at where his thematically red briefs are tented, his cock throbbing and leaking pre-cum into the thin fabric.

Okay, this you can do. Your hands slide up his thighs, getting a little feel of the bare skin of his thighs. Unmarred, smooth and hot. Your hand briefly squeezes around his cock through his briefs, forcing Homelander to hiss through his teeth. You pull down his briefs, bunching them down with the thick fabric of his suit.

You try not to stare and drool but you’ve imagined his cock in your dreams and fantasies so many times that seeing it in real life just kind of blows your fucking mind. It’s perfect. A bit longer than average but especially nice and thick. You lick your lips in anticipation. His hand rests on the back of your head, giving your hair a tug.

“You gonna keep staring or will you put those pretty lips to work?” His gruff tone tears you from the haze.

You blush, being caught staring. Wanting to please your hero you apologize, “sorry, it’s just so perfect. You’re perfect.” You breathe out in pure adoration.

“Come on then, be a good girl and open up for your hero. I want my cock wet before I slide it into that needy pussy.” He looks down at you with a sharp smile, his other hand rests on your jaw before moving up squeezing the hollow of your cheeks, forcing your mouth open. Not that he has to, you’re more than willing to deliver. You open wider, making his hand withdraw as you take matter into your own hands. Literally. You grip the base of his cock, feeling how hefty and hot it feels. It hits you in that moment that you’re holding Homelander’s cock. Fuck. You’re gonna be dreaming of this moment for years to come.

You look up, giving him one more doe-eyed look before you stick your tongue out easing the swollen red head in between your lips. The salty, musky taste of his pre-cum on your tongue makes you whimper, your eyebrows furrow with concentration as you focus on banking the memory of his taste in your head. Eagerly you get right into it. Down and dirty. You focus on him, coating him with an ungodly amount of saliva until anytime you pop off him you’re followed by strings of it connecting you two. His grunts and heavy breaths just urge you to do better. So you take him deeper, slurping around the saliva you've made for him, bobbing your head up and down.

You nearly lose your rhythm when he lets out such a needy wanton moan, making your pussy throb.

“Thaaat’s it, come on—fuck!—deeper, yeah yeaahh you got it sweetheart. God fuck that’s fucking it.” He’s nearly whimpering, so lost in the sensation. And you're eating it up. Each whimper and word goes straight to your pussy and at this point you wouldn't be surprised if you were making a puddle on the floor.

His hand forces your head down deeper and you gag, choking around him as for a second your nose bumps the neat thatch of hair above his cock. He's not easily dissuaded and he pushes again, a little softer this time. You almost feel the tremble of his hands, he's so close to unravelling. Just for you. The swell of pride pushes you forward and you take him deeper. He takes the chance to push both hands into your hair as he starts fucking your face.

“Take it. Take it.” He grunts, his voice more and more broken with every thrust. You're just about to push his thighs back, attempting to fight against his unyielding force but his hips stutter and he groans, letting out broken moans as he spills on your tongue.

As if on command you swallow and he pulls out, wiping the residual dribbles of cum on your lips. Now that he’s done you realise just how fucking badly your jaw aches. You whimper at the ache of your jaw and the ache between your legs.

You’re still kneeling on the floor, a picture of pure devotion, with your mouth messy and lips swollen. He grumbles at the picture in front of him. He pulls you up by your hair, kissing the taste of himself out of your lips. You can still taste your pussy on his lips and tongue as he shoves it into your mouth. “Bed?” He's somehow more than ready to continue and mentally you add his extraordinary refractory period to the list of his many talents.

You nod a broken, “y-yeah, this way,” the taste of him still heavy on your tongue as you lead him to your bedroom.

He lets out a little chuckle at the state of your bedroom, just as decorated with his brand as was the rest of your apartment. “Fuck me, you really are my biggest fan.”

You’re about to apologize, again, and he can read you like an open book already shushing you. “Shh, don’t say it. C’mere, take this off instead. Want to see you.” He tugs at your top, wanting you to take it off. Like unwrapping a present. You let out a few breathless ‘okay’s and pull the top over your head baring your entire body to him, save for the panties that were still uncomfortably pushed to the side. He clearly wants you to keep them on and you’re not sure whether that’s his narcissism or possessiveness talking. You don’t dare comment on the fact that he’s still fully dressed. You’re not gonna start demanding things from the Homelander now are you?

With a step closer he purrs, pushing you to the bed intensely watching as your tits bounce when your back hits the comforter. He follows as he lays over the top of you but he doesn't look at you. He picks up the grimacing Homelander plushie he sees on your pillow— the one that's predominantly advertised to kids. He holds it up for you to see with a raised eyebrow, the look almost condescending. “What? They make no other official plushies!” You defend yourself.

“Is there anything you don't have?”

You don't know what possessed you to answer, “yeah, you,” but Homelander eats it right up as he grins at you.

“Cheeky slut. Well you're about to. On your side.” He says sliding off you to rest on his side looking you up and down hungrily. You’re clearly surprised at his choice of position and he grumbles with annoyance as you take forever to move the way he wants you to. His impatience gets the best of him and he effortlessly manipulates you to your side, slotting right behind you. Homelander grips your inner thigh lifting your leg a little higher, as he nestles his cock right against your wet cunt.

You sigh with partial relief, feeling him solid against you feels good. Feeling him inside you would feel even better. “Jesus, you're still so fucking wet.”

“It's all your fault.” You whimper trying to wiggle in his unyielding hold. He just tuts at you gripping you tighter, cusping on pain.

He pulls you close, his cock sliding in between your slit, immediately getting the top of his cock wet. His lips trail up your jaw until he reaches your ear. He growls, low and sexy, nipping at the sensitive skin of your ear. Your heart skips a beat, your pussy throbs as the sound of him just ripples through you.

“Maybe it is. You know, I've been thinking. You're such a nervous little thing.” He grinds his hips into you, dragging his cock back and forth, teasing you. His voice got quiet, dropping a register lower. All slow and drawled out he continues rumbling in your ear clearly aware of what it's doing to you. “You were beside yourself when I called you. So there I am thinking nobody gets that nervous, not unless they’re trying to hide how fucking turned on they are.” He keeps fucking talking and talking, making you shiver to the point where you feel goosebumps rise all over you. Your breath ragged, your eyes fluttering shut.

You're starting to understand why he was particular about this position. After all, he could read you like a book from the get go.

“At first I thought it was just me because you're such a big fan.” He coos in a condescending tone. He licks the outer edge of your ear and you shriek, thrashing in his uncompromising hold. “But no no nooo. It's not that. Because everytime I spoke, your heartbeat sped up. You know, I was worried about you there for a minute. Then there was your pussy. You get so wet the air is thick with it. I can't even fucking breathe without tasting your sweet cunt.” You let out a broken sound, close to a sob, you pussy throbbing so hard he must feel it even without being inside you. You didn't even consider that his senses can easily sniff your secret out.

He’s still rubbing his cock in between your folds, sliding the whole length of it up and down. It’s slick and loud and so good and holy shit your clit is burning from the way his head catches on it with every thrust. You're so close and your body is on fire. You so desperately want to cum with something inside you but he’s cruel. He's not gonna give it to you just yet. “And look at that, you're still getting wetter. They do say it's always the unassuming ones.” He chuckles into your ear, low and vibrating against you.

“Is that it? Do you get off to the sound of my voice? Do you watch videos of me, listening to interviews while you finger your little pussy?” He's going harder, the wet sound of your pussy slicking his way in between your slit is deafening, embarrassingly loud. “Tell me.” The little command growls in your ear and you force your lips open.

“Y-yes! Yes….I-I find your voice sexy.” You admit to your little shameful secret. You admit that one of the reasons you never met him was because you didn't want to get sopping wet in a crowd full of screaming fans. “Don't stop, please.” You moan out, quiet and broken, your embarrassment making way to pure pleasure. Now that it's out in the open, what is there to hide?

“Do you even care what I say? Huh? I could be reading out the fucking phone book and your pussy would still get wet. Greedy little thing. What’s it gonna be? You gonna cum to my voice or are you gonna be difficult?” You're burning hot, your body so so tense, the leg he's hitched up a little trembling against his strong grip. His cock is still hitting your clit in the perfect fucking way and you're so so so close.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop! Oh fuck, Homelander—don’t—ahhh!” The dam bursts, a wave of pleasure sweeping over you as you scream. Homelander pulls back and with one deft stroke he slides his cock inside you. He doesn't move. He growls at the feeling of your cunt just pulsing against him. He's so thick inside you, stretching you wide, filling every crevice.

He whimpers and you feel how tense he is holding off the orgasm threatening to burst inside him.

Just as you think this must be the end of it, your mind just a buzzing noise, he pulls out moving back and he pushes you on your back.

You never expected him to be so active in bed but he's already in between your legs, his hands clamping down on the clammy flesh of the back of your thighs and he spreads you open. He's on his knees, his hands slide and curl from the back of your thighs to the top as he pulls you in, slowly sliding his cock into you in one push.

He doesn't wait for anything. He just fucks you. Hard and fast, really getting himself off more than you. Surrounded by posters and merch all carrying his likeness while he plunges into you again and again. Your hair is plastered to your forehead as you watch your hero utterly ruin you. You're sweaty, absolutely spent and tired while he's pushing into you without breaking a sweat.

This round isn't for you yet it's gonna be a memory you'll frequent the most. The look on his face, pure lust and torture as he's fucking you with as much strength as he allows himself.

With how he's got your hips propped up he's managing to hit all your best spots as your overstimulated nerves light up, giving him one last finish, your pussy’s quivers pushing him over the edge as well.

Then there's a little hot spurt of him inside you but you're surprised when he pulls out shooting most of his load with a few strokes of his fist all over your panties and stomach.

“Ahh fuck. Look at that, finally got your first autograph.” He snorts, amused, admiring the sight in front of him. His cum has already soaked into your panties, the ‘Homelander’ text changing into a darker colour as both his cum and your slick from the previous round drench the fabric.

You flush hot red and you shake your head, amused by his antics. “That's disgusting.” But strangely, you're charmed.

“I should take a picture. You look great like this.”

He notes as he slides off your bed pulling his briefs over his finally softening cock, tucking himself back into his suit.

“Stay?” You say softly, offering him the space for his benefit more than yours. Even though you'd like him to stay for a cuddle you know you'll be out of it in a minute.

“Can't do I'm afraid, duty calls.”

You nod, understanding. “Thank you, I really feel like a winner.” You snorted, thinking back to how the day even started.

He looks at you almost fondly, but your orgasm-hazy brain might just not be working anymore.

“Until next time.” He says as a goodbye and you end up tucking yourself into bed. The last thing you hear is the click of his belt he picked up from the living room, the creak of the leather gloves he slides back on and the sonic boom of him flying away.

And you know that when you wake up if it wasn't for your ruined panties, your throbbing cunt or even the ripped poster in the living room you wouldn't believe any of it was real.

You sure hope there will be a next time.

[Part 2]

Taglist (you can add yourself to be notified anytime I publish a new Homelander story)

#ahhhhhh it's done #I'm so pleased with myself for finishing this #homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander #homelander fanfiction #my writing #the boys fanfiction

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heartswithinreach · 3 months ago

Note

The reader running towards them with her book in her hands jumping, hugging them, kissing them and screaming with happiness and they don't understand anything, when they ask what happened, she says "the enemies just became lovers 😁🥹"

LaDS when you’re excited about a book

Xavier

Confused and startled by all the screaming but once he realizes it’s screams of joy, he just waits for you to calm down with a completely adoring smile on his face.

He thinks it's the sweetest thing you get so invested in stories that a character's joy becomes your own.

If the book is a part of a series you've been following for a long time, odds are he's reading it too so he can share in your interest and he's thrilled your hopes for romance came true.

If this is a new book, he'll ask to borrow it and read the whole thing in one night to understand why you like it so much.

If it's that kind of book, he cheekily suggests recreating a few scenes he's bookmarked. Xavier knows you two could do it better.

Rafayel

All he knows is one moment he was peacefully painting by himself and the next, you’re all over him but not in the fun way.

Rafayel thinks something really amazing must've happened if you're this excited and then thinks you're a total dork for being so happy for a fictional couple.

He teases you for it in the moment but when his mind wanders before he falls asleep, he wonders if you're so excited by fictional romance because he's lacking somehow.

He actually gets jealous and he's not shy about you knowing it. It's stupid and childish but that's never stopped him before.

Rafayel will pout until he realizes he can outdo a character from a book. You will either be adorably flustered or laugh from how hard he’s trying — either way, it’s a win for him.

Zayne

When you burst through the door with a book in your hands and a smile on your face, Zayne experiences some powerful deja vu.

He suddenly remembers how much you loved stories when you were little — he saw it firsthand when he would read to you himself. He knew you still read as an adult but he thought you would've grown out of how emotionally involved you could be.

He's glad to be wrong.

Regardless of whether you've told him about this book before, Zayne asks you to tell him again so he can see your eyes light up and listens to your rambling with the most subtle yet softest of smiles.

He'll happily spend his evenings quietly reading alongside you.

Sylus

Oh. This is new. He's never seen you like this before.

He likes it. He wants it to last.

Sylus almost doesn't care what the reason is so long as he is the recipient of your violent happiness. He soaks it all in while marveling at how far you've come.

You never would've been so open with him a few months ago, even with something as trivial as a book you like. Sylus doesn't have much time or interest for novels but you've intrigued him. You will should read aloud to him sometime, if only he can see what the fuss is all about.

"'The enemies just became lovers'? I don't remember you being this excited when you decided I wasn't the enemy anymore, sweetie."

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #lads x reader #love and deepspace xavier #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace sylus #my writing

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vividxpages · 3 months ago

Text

𐙚𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ᡣ𐭩"guilty as sin?" ᡣ𐭩⋆๋𓂃ִֶָ ๋⋆𓏲𐙚

pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!Reader

words: 5800

summary: You always thought Jace could not be in love with you, his best friend’s little sister, but a dramatic incident during one of Cregan’s house parties reveals the truth.

warnings: modern au, pining, not so unrequited love, reader is Cregan’s little sister and a huge bookworm, Jace is Cregan’s best friend, fluff and falling in love, angst (mentions of childhood trauma/almost drowning), hurt/comfort, first kiss

a/n: i fought for my life uploading this via my phone, all the formatting from google docs went wooosh haha. Just a little something and different from what I wrote for Jace so far <3 The pool scene is inspired by the Maxton Hall series - if you watched it, you’ll know why ;)

-⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ☁️📖🤍୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Your brother Cregan had met a new friend, during one of his vacations with his boys. Someone had asked the curly haired boy if he wanted to join and just like that, Jacaerys had become Cregan’s friend.

It was easy like that, sometimes.

But when your brother brought Jace over for the first time and you were reading in the living room, deeply lost in your book and not prepared for visitors, things quickly got much more complicated.

He was cute and completely unaware of it as you shook hands and he gave you an adorable smile that made you weak in the knees.

In the beginning, you thought he was like a ghost in your home, only appearing from time to time and briefly, but always leaving goosebumps on your skin when he shyly waved at you. Just his sight alone was enough to make you want to bury your face in your book. You wanted to become his friend, too. Until you wanted to be more than that.

And over the months, their duo became a trio as you joined them more and more often, curled up on your brother’s bed as he and Jace played a video game or going out with them for food or random drives.

You laughed together - it was so so easy to laugh with Jace - and you got to know him better when he told you about his big family and how nice it was to retreat into your quieter family’s house sometimes.

You caught yourself watching him more and more when no one was looking, daydreaming about what it’d be like to be close to him, to kiss his pouty lips and be his girlfriend…

But you were a trio now and you two were only connected by your older brother in the end.

But god, how inevitably you had fallen for Jacaerys, how impossible it was to forget about these desires.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃🥛 ࣪ ִֶָ.

It didn't take long until Jacaerys followed you into your dreams.

When you were sleeping, especially after you had read a couple pages of your favorite romance novels, he came to you, surrounded by smoke and fog. And for only a short lived dream, you could see each other together, doing things you wouldn't dare to think about during the day.

It was maddening and perfect and everything you wanted, but when you woke up, you were alone still.

You stared at the ceiling of your room, sighing deeply. Tucking your favorite stuffed animal, a small wolf with spotted fur, back under your blanket, you slid out of bed, in need of a distraction from fantasizing about kissing your brother's best friend.

You tiptoed down the staircase, silently slipping into the kitchen and feeling around the wall for the lightswitch.

"Don't get scared, I'm here." A soft voice came from the darkness and as you switched the light on, you spotted Jacaerys sitting at the kitchen table.

His hair looked disheveled from sleeping and he wore a long shirt and boxers, sheepishly looking at you with his phone in his hands.

Your hand itched to tuck a loose curl behind his ear for him.

“What are you doing awake?” You whispered, shuffling closer and rubbing your eyes with a yawn.

“I could ask you the same thing.” He smiled warmly at you, shrugging.

“I live here and I wanted a midnight snack.” You gave back. You rarely were alone with Jace lately, he and Cregan seemed to have reached a new stage in their friendship where it wouldn’t have surprised you if your older brother took his favorite Velaryon to the bathroom with him. “Is Cregan snoring?”

Jace chuckled quietly. “No. I just wanted to check my phone in case my cousin Rhaena texted me. My brothers are on a little trip with her and I want to make sure they’re okay and not homesick. They seem fine though, she sent me a picture of them eating ice cream earlier.”

Your chest ached funnily at the way he talked so lovingly about his family. But you knew Cregan’s habit as the oldest son all too well, needing to make sure you were okay all the time and you didn’t miss the way Jace smiled sadly at the picture on his phone after showing it to you.

“I bet they have the most amazing time and can’t wait to tell you all about it once they’re back.” You assured him and before you would have thought twice about it, you reached out and squeezed his shoulder. Your touch lingered, just a little moment too long and your eyes met.

Your breath hitched at his dark eyes on yours, shimmering in the soft kitchen light. You were both barefoot, in your sleeping clothes and your hair was open and uncombed and your heart was way too open for this time of the night.

You heard him exhale softly as you drew your hand back, feeling as if you had burned yourself. But why did you want to throw yourself wholly into his flames then?

“Would you like a chocolate milk?” You offered, the moment between you vanished. “It always helps me get back to sleep again.”

Jace furrowed his brows. “Cregan’s crazy for them too. He told me earlier you’re out of any chocolate milk.”

You grinned knowingly, walking past him and illuminating yourself in the cold light of the open fridge. “Yeah, that’s because he doesn’t suspect me hiding them behind the healthy stuff he avoids.”

Brushing past your yogurts and meal preps for your summer job, you produced two small milk cartons, shaking them victoriously.

Jace grinned at you and it only made you a little bit weak in the knees. "You're brilliant."

"I'm trying to survive with my vacuum cleaner of a hungry brother." You joked and handed him a carton, the two of you content as you began to sip on the sweet chocolate milk.

Under the soft light of the kitchen lamp, Jace and you forgot about time as you shared whispered stories with each other, your drinks soon becoming empty and replaced by new ones.

His gentle and unhurried words were good at calming down your entire body and soon, you felt your eyes drooping.

"I think we should both go back to bed now." Jace whispered. "I told Cregan we'll go play some basketball tomorrow morning and I want to beat him."

You laughed at the thought of your giant of a brother going up against Jacaerys. "Well, good luck to you."

With a tiny yawn, you stood up and smiled at him once again. "Thank you for the conversation, Jace. Sleep well."

"Goodnight." Jace said softly and for a moment, you lingered in the doorway, imagining if you weren't leaving. Imagining the two of you, him with you in his lap, pulling you closer as you kissed.

But you could dream about these things.

With one last smile, you left him, although your heart ached to stay with him for just a little longer.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🍋.

One afternoon, you were reading by the pool in the backyard.

You had just come back after your shift at your holiday job, helping out in a little bookshop downtown, and were now ready to relax all day.

On a small table next to your sun lounger stood a carafe of freshly pressed lemonade and the bookish harvest of the day, ready to be devoured by you until the sun went down.

The garden gate by the house rattled and you looked up, your hands nearly forgetting to put a bookmark between the pages as you spotted Jace letting himself in.

Your mouth went dry at his appearance, dark sunglasses holding back his curls, his white shirt a stark contrast against them. Illuminated by your kitchen lights or the sun itself, it didn't seem to matter for him.

He was so pretty, it almost made you want to look away, but you couldn't. You never could. And wasn’t this the root of the problem?

You swallowed against the dryness in your throat. “Hey.”

“Hi.” He smiled sheepishly at you before he looked up to Cregan’s window. “Cregan is not home yet?”

You shook your head. “Nope. It’s just me right now. Should I tell him you stopped by?”

He scratched his neck, a little helpless. “Um…if it’s okay, I could stay and wait for him? I like spending time with you, too, if that’s alright.”

You wanted to bury your face in your hands and giggle like stupid. You didn’t. “Yes, of course, no worries. Would you like a lemonade?”

Jace gratefully took the glass from your hands, your knuckles brushing against one another. “Thanks. You can continue reading if you want, just act like I’m not here.”

You thought about the steamy chapter you had just begun reading and considered your options. If you read, it was like every character the narrator was in love with became Jace. In your head, you two had already kissed and made love a thousand times like this. If you continued reading those longing and hot scenes with Jace so close to you, you were afraid you’d actually implode.

You watched him closely as he sat down by the edge of the pool, abandoning his shoes so he could dangle his long legs into the water.

The words in front of you melted together on the page, making it impossible to continue reading when he was so close to you.

Shifting on your sunchair, you allowed yourself to simply look at Jace who tilted back his head, closing his eyes against the sun and appreciating the quietness of the backyard. You wanted to go to him and kiss him on the lips. You wanted to go inside and splash very cold water on your face to stop these thoughts from happening.

“You know, I never see you swimming in here.” Jacaerys looked at you curiously, eyes scrunched together a little from the sun and probably the fact he was not wearing his contacts.

You shrugged, a little shy out of the sudden. “I used to, when I was younger. But…not anymore.”

“What happened?” Jace looked at you, curious yet a little worried.You tried to shrug it off, only to realize there was no shame in you when you talked to him. He waited for you, patiently so, but somehow you knew he would’ve let it go if you wanted it.

“We were on vacation once, Cregan, Sara and I, with our parents.” You told him and in your mind you could see the three of you playing together in the garden, your brother giving you a piggyback ride as Sara laughed in delight. “I wanted to go swimming in the morning, but no one was awake yet, so I snuck out. I just couldn’t wait to get into the pool. But I underestimated how deep it was and I couldn’t hold myself up well enough then…Cregan had woken up when he heard me leave and found me. I scared everyone, but I was okay, just coughed up some water and was shocked at my own boldness. Ever since, the pool and I are not really on good terms.”

Jacaerys looked at you, eyes filled with consternation and empathy. “I’m sorry you had an experience like this. That must’ve been very scary.”

You looked at him with surprise, but there were no jokes in him, only sympathy. “It was, but it’s okay. I was…six, I think, so it’s long behind me.”

“This whole pool is a waste if you can’t enjoy it.” Jace tried to lighten the mood and as always, his playful tone lured a smile out of you. A certain sparkle danced through his eyes and you knew whatever came next could not be taken seriously: “What would you like to have instead of it? A garden library maybe, for all your books? Maybe I can convince Cregan to cement the pool shut once your parents are gone next weekend.”

You laughed, a warm rush blossoming through you at the mention of your own little library. He knew how much you read and he had no clue you were seeing him in every love interest of your cheesy romance novels… “I bet my parents would love that and totally not…murder us once they’re back.”

As you laughed together, the small weight on your chest lifted itself and the memory from your story faded again, nothing but a distant thought of the past.

Cregan came home a little later and as he and Jace left to go up into his room, the two of you smiled at each other one last time, as if you were sharing a secret no one knew but you now.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🍿.

It was getting late, but Tuesday was movie night and neither of the three of you wanted to pull out of it first.

Cregan, Jace and you had pushed the couch table to the side and splayed blankets and pillows all over the carpet earlier.

To our feet was the rest of your movie snacks, but only a half-full bowl of popcorn remained which you passed back and forth from time to time.

When Cregan had suddenly not grabbed the bowl from you anymore, you and Jace had shared a knowing look.

Your brother was snoring softly, his head tilted back and arms entwined in front of his broad chest. He was out cold, completely oblivious to the movie still running quietly on the TV screen.

But you and Jace were still awake.

And out of the sudden you realized that you had never sat so close to each other. Your shoulders were almost touching and somewhen, your legs had ended up underneath his blanket, your fuzzy socks brushing against his calf.

You willed your breathing to remain regular, seemingly impassive as you continued to watch the movie, but you simply could not concentrate, not when Jace’s presence so close to you clouded all your senses like this.

The atmosphere was thick with tension and you wondered if all of this was only happening in your mind. You took a deep breath and reached for the popcorn again.

Tiny lightning struck you as your fingers brushed against Jace’s, neither of you pulling back.

You took all your courage and looked up to him, his burning gaze already resting on you. You swallowed thickly, unable to look away and when you felt his thumb brushing over your knuckles, you were sure you were going mad.

It seemed like Jace couldn’t look away either and a full-body shudder went through him when your leg shifted against his.

“You can sleep.” Jace whispered into the darkness, gulping hard. “I’ll switch the TV off later. I…I’ll watch over you.”

I don’t want to sleep. I want you and I’m afraid of what happens to me if I can’t have you.

But you feared your own words and the impact that they might have, destroying everything Jace and you had become over the last couple of months.

What if dreams were safer than reality, where nothing could hurt or disappoint you?

Your head fell softly against Cregan’s shoulder, sweet oblivion already pulling you under at the outlook of his sweet promise to you.

As you drifted asleep, you could’ve sworn there was a featherlight brush over your thigh, four little invisible letters forever imprinted into your soft skin

m…

...i...

…n...

…e

And as he watched your breath evening out, Jacaerys sighed deeply, his head bumping against the cushions of the couch and trying to calm down his pounding heart.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ📖.

The weekend came and Cregan and you watched your parents’ car leave the driveway, your arms slung around each other as you waved at them before they drove out of sight.

Your brother and you were standing together for a moment of silence until you said: “If tonight escalates in any way, I’m telling mom.”

“If you sneak downstairs and drink with the guys, I’m telling dad.”

You snorted, unimpressed. “Please, I’d rather lock myself in my room all weekend long if it means I can avoid your stupid house party.”

Later that day, when it had gotten dark outside and the lawn was plastered with abandoned bikes and a few cars parked nearby, you realized how painfully true you had spoken.

Cregan’s party had been going strong for a while now and you felt like a hermit, hiding upstairs in your room to avoid the chaos that was probably taking place downstairs.

You had curled up by the window with a book, but couldn’t find peace.

Every minute, someone downstairs was calling for a toast or more shots which was celebrated by everyone. Music was blasting through the speakers and you groaned internally at the way the vibrations could be felt through your carpet.

Cregan could only pull this because the neighbors loved him for helping out here and there sometimes and because he always miraculously managed to clean up the house like nothing wild had ever occured here.

When you heard something shatter downstairs, you had enough.

You closed your book and got up.

Sure, you had wanted to stay away from all the fuzz Cregan’s friends made, but this was still your house. You were allowed to move around whenever you wanted.

You muttered the words to yourself as you closed your door behind you, stomping down the staircase Cregan had declared taboo for everyone.

No one really took notice of their host’s little sister as you walked down the hallway, past many guests who were lingering by the walls and chatting with each other.

Making your way past the living room, you could see that the couch table had been pushed back for more space to dance, but the kitchen was relatively empty compared to the rest of the house.

There were multiple open pizza cartons on the counter and you grabbed yourself an extra cheesy slice as you looked around, amazed at how none of these people seemed to care who was walking around here.

All except one.

“I thought you might’ve taken refuge tonight at Baela’s.” Jace said behind you and you turned around with a sigh, smiling at him in playful annoyance.

“I wish I could’ve, but she is not in town as you might know.” You told him, munching on your pizza. “She’s at some bonding activity dinner with her dad.”

Jace hummed knowingly. “I heard. So you had no choice but to suffer the consequences of Cregan’s actions?”

The two of you looked around and you winced when you heard some splashes coming from the backyard, accompanied by some carefree shrieks of delight. Jace bit his lip, a little guilty at your discomfort.

“I’ll come around tomorrow and help him clean everything up.” He offered as a small comfort, his hand itching to rest on your shoulder like you had done to him. “There won’t be a dirty spot, I promise.”

“I know, Jace.” You sighed. “Thank you, truly. Where is my brother, by the way?”

Jace looked flustered to the ground, before smiling at you without teeth. “I think he went somewhere with a girl.”

“Of course he did.” Another loud crash went down outside and something in you snapped. “Okay, I’m going to go outside for a second, I don’t think some of these assholes realize we have neighbors, hold on-”

Jace looked over his shoulder, telling a group nearby to keep it down a little before he followed you.

For just a moment, you disappeared in the crowd and he had no idea which side you had gone for, trying to stand taller to spot you in the garden.

You quickly found the source to all the noisiness.

Three of Cregan’s guests, all boys you had never seen before in your life, were battling themselves for the biggest jump in the pool, splashing everywhere and soaking the pillows on the sun chairs with water.

“Hey.” You stared them down, blocking one of them from taking another leap in the pool. “Could you stop being an ass and jumping into the pool like a maniac? We have neighbors on each side of our backyard and it’s almost midnight, it’s so rude.”

The guy grinned down at you, looking over his shoulders to his smirking friends. “Did you hear that, guys? I think Cregan’s mom just came home, are you the fun police or what?”

You stared at him, irritated at such rude behavior. “I’m just telling you to calm down a little or I’ll kick you out, how’s that?” You might’ve been only Cregan’s little sister, but growing up with a fiercely protective brother like him, you had learned to stand your ground. And you were not scared of an idiot who looked like he had pissed his pants.

“Aww, I think you need a little fun, don’t you think?” He looked down on you, stepping closer until you felt the need to step back. “How about a little cool-off for you, huh?”

And with those words, he abruptly pushed you into the pool and everything went dark around you.

The people who had watched the heated exchange gasped and Jacaerys perked up as he heard nothing but quietness, quickly pushing his way through the crowd.

He came to a sudden stop at the edge of the pool, his eyes flickering back and forth between the guys standing by the edge and the water’s surface, its softening waves quietening down.

But underneath it, illuminated by the night lamps of the pool, he saw you and his eyes widened.

He did not think, did not even hesitate before he jumped into the water after you.

The surprising cold was like a shock to his system, his wet clothes dragging him down to where you floated, your eyes wide open but unseeing as you watched the bubbles around you.

Suddenly, you were six again and you couldn’t move.

You thought you were dying and no one would know, no one would know what you still had to say.

You wanted to kick and scream, to do something goddammit, but you were paralyzed by the sudden overwhelming scare.

Jace blinked and pushed himself forward, icy fear shooting through his veins when you gave no reaction that you had taken any notice of him. But the fear was quickly joined by the rage, anger over you, the most innocent being in this whole house, having been the one who took the most damage tonight...

Jace and you broke through the surface, the air rushing back into your lungs all at once and making you gasp painfully. Disoriented, you clung to Jace's shirt, looking around wildly as he pulled you close and soothed you.

"Shh, it's okay. I'm here, it's okay, love." He murmured near your ear and you felt your body slump, not able to hold yourself up yet.

You felt his hands on your waist and then, with one hand around your back and the other supporting the back of your knees, he walked towards the low end of the pool, carrying you out as if you weighed nothing.

You painfully became aware of how quiet it had gotten around you. Everyone in the garden was looking at you, shocked and a little ashamed that a foul joke like that had escalated into something so serious.

Something ugly and hot burned in your throat and you buried your face in Jace's wet neck, holding on to him for dear life and wishing everyone would just disappear.

A helpless whimper escaped you and Jace held you only tighter. "It's okay, I got you. I won't let anything happen to you, we're almost out."

Both of your clothes hung heavily down your bodies as he left the pool with you, throwing one last deathly glance at the guy who messed with you before he made his way towards the house, still mumbling little sweet nothings in your ear as you tried to regulate your breathing to no avail.

You shivered even as you entered the warm house and simply tried to focus yourself on Jace. He efficiently made his way through your home and before you knew it, he was walking up the taboo staircase, going straight to your room.

You quietly sniffled to yourself, letting him carry you a few more steps before he gently set you down on your bed. He looked around, one hand brushing back his wet hair, and found your fluffy bathrobe hanging by the door.

"Can I?" He asked lowly, his heart aching at your slumped form on the bed. This whole incident had deeply shaken you to the core. "You're going to be cold soon if you don't get out of your…wet clothes."

If the situation had been different, you'd match his fierce blush, but it was like every feeling of shame had vanished from your chest and only left you empty. You nodded silently, taking the bathrobe he handed you before he turned around and faced the door.

You quickly slipped out of your clothes and sighed when you were enveloped by the fluffy robe.

"You can look again…" You told him and he turned around with a shaky exhale.

Normally, his job here was done now. He could go, rejoin the party and find Cregan so he'd kick those guys out.

But Jace could not imagine a single place where he was needed more in this moment than right here, with you.

"Should I make you a tea?" He broke the silence, fidgeting with his hands. When one of his younger brothers was hurting, he'd always make it better with a hug, but you were different, you were so much more-

"Can you just hold me for a while?" You pulled the rope tighter around you, your wet hair still clinging to your neck and cheeks. "Please?"

Maybe the leap into the pool had made you silly. It was bold and daring and you had no right to ask him of this, but your heart had spoken deeply from its core and you found that you did not wish to take the words back.

Jace's gaze softened at your plea. "Of course." He mumbled softly and sat down beside you.

A heavy shudder ran through you as his arms pulled you against him and you gladly fell into his side; letting yourself be held like a small child, your hands clinging to the arm wrapped around you.

You couldn't help yourself when your bottom lip started to wobble again and neither of you had to say it, he knew why this had been so scary to you. You felt his chin rest on your hair and his strong arms around you and closed your eyes, allowing yourself to be comforted by him.

You had dreamed about being held by him, more than you could ever count, but not like this. It was a bittersweet feeling and when you snuggled yourself closer to him, in need for warmth and him, Jace took a deep breath.

"We should find you a towel." He murmured, his lips ghosting over your temple just like his hand had ghosted over your thigh…

You shivered, but not because you were cold anymore.

"I don't want you to get sick."

You nodded, sitting up with him and looking deep into his eyes. He didn't seem like he was able to get up just yet, the two of you lost in each other.

He had jumped into the cold water for you, not even hesitating a second. Your heart brimmed with love for him, nearly as bad as what it felt like to drown. And god, how you wanted to drown in him…

His dark eyes flickered down to your mouth and only now, you realized how close you still were sitting together, the slip of your bathrobe revealing half of your naked thigh to him.

"Jace…" You whispered and prayed all the prelude of wanting him and not being sure if you were allowed to have him was finally over now. "I-"

The door to your room opened and in came Cregan, panting as if he had run upstairs.

"Shit, are you okay?" He rushed to you, kneeling in front of the bed and looking you over in concern. "I was told what happened, I'm so sorry I wasn't there."

"It's okay." You mumbled, not wanting to worry him further. You already had scared Cregan badly enough for one time in your lives. "Jace helped me."

If Cregan noticed that he and you were still linking pinkies, he did not say anything about it. "I threw these fuckers out right away. The party is over."

You blinked at him. "What? You were excited about it all week. You don't have to-"

"Almost everyone is gone already." Cregan tried to smile encouragingly at you, but you could still see the worry in his eyes. "How about you'll change into something dry and I make us a snack? Are you sure you’re okay?"

"I'll leave you two." Jace announced quietly and squeezed your hand once more. "I'll go downstairs and make sure everyone is gone."

For just a moment, you did not want to let go of his hand and your fingers brushed midair before he slipped out of your grasp.

As the door closed behind him and Cregan brought you a towel for your hair, you already missed him like a lost limb.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🌸.

Of course, what had to happen, happened; a few days later, you found yourself sick.

Neither you nor Cregan had told your parents how the party had abruptly ended, a secret deal between the two of you so they wouldn't worry too much about you and they didn't have to punish Cregan for it.

So, your days at the end of summer were spent on the couch downstairs, curled up under a blanket and frequently attended by Cregan who brought you snacks and chocolate milk. It sucked and it was boring since you quickly ran out of books, but it was better than the horrible panic that went through you when you had been thrown into the pool.

On day three though, you had a visitor.

You blinked as steps approached your little sickbed, still a bit sleepy from your afternoon nap and the delicious noodle soup that had been made for you. But to your surprise, Cregan only stood at the staircase, smiling fondly at you before disappearing upstairs, making room for Jace who had waited behind him.

Your heart skipped a beat and a thousand thoughts rushed through your head. When had you showered the last time, did you comb your hair this morning, were you-

"Hey." Jace said softly. "I wanted to see if you were feeling better."

"A little." You smiled at him, sitting up and placing your wolf in your lap as he walked towards you. "You didn't have to come though, I don't want you to get sick."

He brushed your worries away and sat down on the carpet in front of your couch. "I brought you some tea. Raspberry was your favorite, right? And then, I thought you might want some new reading material."

You gasped as he conjured up a big bouquet of wildflowers from behind his back. At the first glance, it was only the most beautiful flower bouquet you had ever seen, but then you spotted a book in the middle of the blossoms.

And then another one.

And another one.

"Jace…" You whispered with wide eyes, shaking your head at him in disbelief. "You made me a flower bouquet with books?"

He bit his lip in flusteration, a pretty pink blush appearing on his cheeks. "Yeah...I went to the bookstore you work at and thought about what you might enjoy. I hope you like them, I kept the receipt just in case and-"

"Jace." You interrupted him and now it was your turn to blush as you pressed the bouquet to your chest, the new books in the middle of it already singing your name. "This is the loveliest thing anyone has ever done for me. Thank you, I love it so much. I bet the books you chose are wonderful."

In this moment, it didn't matter to you that you were sick and still a little nasal. The way he smiled up at you, like you were his entire world and his shoulders sagged with relief - your heart screamed at you to finally give in.

Give in to him.

The wrapping paper around your bouquet rustled against your chest as you bent forward and rested a careful hand on Jacaerys' cheek.

He looked up at you with wide puppy eyes, thunderstruck at the tender touch and then you really didn't know anymore who made the first move but it didn't matter, because then-

Your lips touched softly.

It barely was a real kiss, merely the brush of a butterflies' wing against you, but it was all you had longed for for so long.

Neither of you dared to breathe, the moment too soft and fragile to become anything deeper. But you felt him exhale shakingly, his thumb softly holding your chin to keep you close for just a moment longer. It was the softest first kiss you could’ve imagined for yourself.

You leaned back, but only a little, and watched as Jace's eyes blissfully fluttered open, fixing your own wide ones dreamily.

"If I would've known books are the way to your heart, I would've brought you some so much earlier." He confessed breathlessly.

You shook your head, your lips still tingling from this first shy kiss. "You have been in my heart since I first met you."

Jacaerys wanted to melt from the victorious roar his heart let out, a dragon taking flight. "I've been in love with you, too. Ever since Cregan introduced us."

Your hands found their way to each other before you let out a sudden laugh.

"What is it?" He wanted to know.

"I just- I kissed you."

He grinned. "Yeah, you did." And he was in need of a repetition already.

"Jace, you're going to be sick like me." You pointed out guiltily, although it didn't seem too bad to have a companion in your little misery, especially if it was him.

"Oh." He did not look like he had a single care for the consequences of your actions.

"Are you two done yet down there?!" Cregan called from upstairs and when your eyes met, you broke into laughter and your heart blossomed at Jace's happy giggle.

It knew now that he was yours.

And you were his, just as he had once written on your upper thigh…

𓆩♡𓆪

#jace velaryon #jace targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen #jace velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys targaryen x reader #jace targaryen x reader #hotd imagine #hotd

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neocrias · 4 months ago

Text

making out with NCT Dream

warnings: slightly suggestive; some of the stories may be longer than others (we got a bit carried away lol sorry); reader insert; gn reader (mostly)

pairings: dream and reader

gender/aus: fluff; established relationships (or not); casual fling;

other units: 127 II wayv

Mark

You had enough of clubbing. You didn't even know why you had come in the first place. While all your friends already had a date and were dancing happily on the dance floor, you were waiting anxiously on the bar stool with a brightly colored drink in your hand that you sipped from time to time. Was it too stupid to want a fairytale prince to show up and save you from the situation you'd gotten yourself into?

— Do you always come here? — The line startled you, and you turned your stool to the side, ready to roll your eyes at whoever had the nerve to throw that old, lousy line at you. However, you're surprised when it's followed by an adorable giggle and the big shiny black eyes that stare at you when you turn to see the boy. — I'm sorry, I know that was terrible.

He was beautiful. His insecure smile and low posture revealed that he seemed a little nervous about the interaction - and you found that adorable. He seemed completely harmless.

The boy introduced himself as Mark, and you also introduced yourself to him. He went on to ask a few simple questions, such as “did you come with your friends?” or “do you like the place?”, which didn't spark much of a conversation, but were enough to keep you talking. He shared some information about himself, and you began to notice that with each question he asked, Mark leaned a little closer to you. This made you think that perhaps he wasn't as innocent as you had thought, even if his posture still indicated a certain shyness.

This didn't disappoint you, however, since ever since you had caught sight of Mark's sparkling eyes and trembling lips, you knew you wanted to kiss him. And, after buying you a drink and continuing the gentle but warm conversation, you noticed that even with the close proximity between your body and Mark's, he seemed to have no intention of advancing on you in the way you wanted. Even with his lapses of confidence, leaning his arms lightly on the bar counter, or staring into your eyes without looking away with a look of admiration while you said trivial things, he gave no indication that he was going to go any further without your total acquiescence.

That's why, realizing how much Mark seemed to be asking for that kiss, you leaned in at the rare moment when he stopped talking and closed your eyes, moving closer.

Even though he was shy, Mark understood what it meant - even too quickly - and was firm in holding the back of your neck and returning the kiss, slowly and almost torturously at first, only to become stronger and faster towards the end. Mark's free hand on the counter reached for yours and rested on top of it, giving it a gentle squeeze. Your heart almost exploded with the tenderness of the newly met boy at that moment, and you felt that this would be just the first of countless kisses between you and Mark.

Renjun

You were lying on the sofa, trying to finish one of the countless novels you'd ordered a month earlier while Renjun was painting for what seemed like hours. You actually wanted to spend this time with your boyfriend, but he hadn't been able to take a moment to do what he likes for so long that you didn't want to interrupt him, so you just waited.

However, the waiting became more and more difficult as the hours passed and he didn't finish, and you couldn't even read the book in your anxiety. Tired of waiting, you got up from the sofa, leaving the book behind, and walked over to your boyfriend who was sitting at the table.

You hugged him around the shoulders, putting your face in the crook of his neck and giving him several kisses that made him laugh with happiness. Renjun gently released the brush so as not to dirty the drawing and leaned his face back and wrapped his arms around your neck, keeping you in that position. You took advantage of this and left a chaste kiss on his lips, making him smile even more.

Suddenly he closed his eyes and frowned in confusion before asking: — Mary Jane, is that you?

— Oh, you're so funny! — You replied ironically. — You finished?

Renjun turned to face you, putting the painting aside. — I'm neglecting you, aren't I? — He asked with a sad smile.

— No! — You were quick to deny it. — I just missed you.

He stood up, still holding each side of your hips, then brought one of his hands up to your face to push your bangs out of your face. Slowly, he brought their faces closer, brushing the tip of his nose against yours, before finally bringing their lips together in a tender, romantic kiss. Renjun has a way of making you feel loved.

— What do you want to do? — He asked.

— You can finish your drawing, Junnie, no problem.

— I'd rather kiss my beautiful girlfriend a lot more.

To disguise your happy smile, you bit your lower lip, wrapped your arms around his shoulders and ran your fingers through his soft brown hair. You kissed once more, deeply, and you felt him take small steps forward, leading you both towards the sofa.

Jeno

You don't know how you got into this delicate situation and you don't know how you're going to get out of it without revealing your feelings. Jeno has been your best friend since you were four years old, you two practically grew up together, went to the same schools, had the same friends, liked the same things. With such closeness, it's no surprise that you fell in love with him. Jeno is beautiful, after all.

To disguise the fact that you were completely obsessed with him, you tended to be a little thicker than you would have liked, always cracking some stupid joke to pick on him. Sometimes you decided to take it to a more physical level, putting your foot in front of him to make him trip, or squeezing the water bottle to splash him in the face when he drank.

Jeno always returned the pranks. You understood each other like that. The problem was that I miscalculated all the negative endings that “play fighting” could lead to.

Jeno is strong, much stronger than you, thanks to the gym addiction he developed during his teenage years. It would be easy for him to knock you down or hurt you even if he didn't mean to, which is why he refused, but you kept pushing and provoking him until Jeno gave in.

Now the sight of the muscles tensing around you made you nervous. Jeno noticed your heavy eyes, he also noticed the little bites on your lips every time he pulled you slightly tighter. Your reactions were a confirmation of what he had suspected for some time and a relief for the conflicting feelings he felt.

Jeno has had a crush on you for a while and used to get jealous every time a guy hit on you. Fortunately, he was able to disguise his own feelings behind a facade of protection, when in reality he wanted to be the one to have you.

You tried to knock him down, but that only made Jeno's grip around your forearm increase, he pulled you closer then grabbed one of your legs knocking you to the ground. You let out a gasp of surprise, still half out of breath he knelt over you, one leg on either side of your hip, as you tried to push him off he grabbed both your arms, pinning them against the floor. Your eyes were wide open, your lips parted, you were breathing heavily and Jeno just wanted to kiss you until you were panting harder.

So he did.

He kissed you with a ferocity that made you let out a low moan of fright and relief, returning the kiss as if you depended on his lips to live. You wiggled your fingers, wishing you had something to hold on to, but Jeno didn't let go, not even when he moved his kisses down to your neck and shoulder. You were already confused and out of breath, but you weren't going to stop him.

Haechan

Haechan is a teasing little pest, always having fun with your annoyance and when you make out it's no different. You don't know why you're still with him, but you have even less reason to stop.

This was the third time he'd approached you only to pull away when you tried to kiss him and it was wearing on your patience. You rolled your eyes and regretted following the boy to the empty balcony, leaving your euphoric friends playing Just Dance behind - at least there you'd only be bored and not completely annoyed by the boy in front of you.

— Oh — He cooed at you — poor kitty wanna kiss me so bad, don't you?

— Asshole! — You replied.

Haechan laughed out loud, throwing his head back as he wrapped his arms around your hips so that you wouldn't run away. — Don't be like that, pretty.

You turned your face away, not wanting to look at him and Haechan pouted, even though he knew you wouldn't see. It was really fun to annoy you, but now he had to think of a way to get you to stop being angry with him.

— You look beautiful when you're angry, you know that? — He asked. He held your chin, turning your face towards him, but you looked away. “Sulky”, he thought. — Hm? — he insisted once more, giving you several kisses in a row and a few more kisses on the cheek.

— You're ridiculous, you know that? — You snapped back, trying to stay nervous, but you couldn't stay angry with him for long. I guess that explains why you've been together for so long.

— You love it!

— Do I? — you asked and he arched an eyebrow as if daring you to lie to him. — Maybe I do.

Haechan smiled and finally kissed you. A real kiss, with tenderness and desire mixed just right. His hand is still holding your face, holding you in place so that you wouldn't escape.

Wanting to provoke him back, you bit his lower lip as soon as he started to pull away and pulled his hair back tightly. Haechan laughed out loud at your audacity and stared at you with heavy eyes. He pushed his tongue against the inside of your cheek and pulled your hair harder, making your head go back and you let go of his hair in surprise.

— Why aren't you my girlfriend anyway?

— You never asked.

— Do you want to be my girlfriend? — Haechan asked instinctively, as if he'd been waiting for this opportunity for ages.

— I'll think about it.

You joked, but the teasing smile on your lips said everything Haechan needed to know. You were his, just as he was yours.

Jaemin

You regretted coming to this party the moment you got in the Uber, but you'd already spent too much money on the costume to stay at home now. That explains why you're looking for an empty place to hide from the mess of sweaty bodies crammed into the small living room.

— Why are you alone in this corner? Not enjoying the party? — A sweet voice interrupted your regret session, and you turned around to face a boy with a gentle smile and kind eyes.

You knew him well, Na Jaemin, the popular guy in your calculus class. Always giving nice smiles to classmates, teachers, janitors, always getting the best grades, doing the best in extracurricular activities - it's no surprise that he's so popular. What is a surprise is that he noticed you at all.

— Oh, I'm not very good at parties — You replied and automatically wanted to beat herself up for sounding so weird. He'd certainly stay away from you now.

— Poor little thing can't get along? — Jaemin cooed at you, finding your clumsiness funny.

You didn't realize Jaemin's real intentions and that made it all the more interesting for him, who was amused by your naivety. In his eyes you were such a pretty, shy, perfect little thing for him to destroy. In contrast, all you could think about was how nice he was to talk to you and hang out with you when he could have been enjoying the party.

Although amusing, Jaemin was getting tired of you not understanding the hints he was giving you, making it clear that he wanted to kiss you. Then, without you realizing it, he led you down the hallway to the bedrooms, where the guests had been warned not to enter - Jaemin didn't have to worry about being the master of the house.

Then he got closer, one step closer to you every minute. “Silly girl”, he thought as he noticed you walking backwards to create distance between the two of you, not understanding what he wanted. Impatiently, Jaemin circled his arm around your waist, pulling you against him.

He smiled mischievously when he saw your wide eyes and pressed your lips together. Your knee buckled with the hunger with which he kissed you and your eyes closed enjoying the moment, your hands instinctively going up to his shoulders and squeezing hard.

You sighed when he pushed you - gently - against the wall, your free arm supporting the weight of his body as he sprinkled your face, neck and lap with quick kisses and you sank your painted nails into the back of his neck.

Chenle Jeno, your best friend, invited you to watch his basketball game with the boys because that day there was going to be a get-together at the house of Chenle, one of Jeno's friends, after the game.

You hadn't met Chenle before, in fact, you'd only talked to Jaemin and Jisung for a short time before, so you were feeling overwhelmed by the idea of going to a party at the house of a guy you didn't know - but it was because Jeno asked you to.

In the end, it was pretty smooth, the boys were nice, especially Chenle.

He was charismatic, handsome and polite and you didn't avoid watching him during the match. You felt more attracted to him with every basket he made but, despite noticing the quick glances Chenle gave you, you didn't have the courage to approach him.

But he wasn't going to leave it at that, after all, he thought you were pretty the second he laid eyes on you and, after making sure that you and Jeno were nothing but good friends, he made his move.

— Nice of you to come — He said, taking a seat next to you on the wooden deck of the pool and offering you one of the glasses he was holding. — Did you enjoy the game?

You agreed with a simple “uh huh” as you tasted the drink, it was vodka with energy drink, far from your favorite but fortunately he made sure it wasn't too strong. — You nailed it! — You complimented, turning her face towards him with a restrained smile.

— Yeah? — Chenle asked with a cocky smile, his eyes twinkling mischievously. He tilted his head slightly to one side before saying. — Good, because I decided that all my baskets would be for you as soon as I saw you arrive.

He smirked as soon as he saw you blink repeatedly and look away in embarrassment. He held your chin between his forefinger and thumb, turning your face back to his with a mischievous grin. Chenle noticed the way your eyes drifted down to his mouth, he noticed the way you nervously clamped your lower lip between your teeth, he really wanted to kiss you right then.

He brushed his thumb against your lip, making you release it, and leaned in, kissing you the way he wanted to. Chenle sneaked his hand down to the nape of your neck, tangling his fingers in your hair and pulling them slightly, making your head tilt in the direction he wanted.

Finally, Chenle bit his lip as soon as the kiss ended, but remained with his forehead pressed together and his eyes closed until you were forced apart by the incessant shouting and joking of the friends who had come to take you back to the party.

Jisung

Jisung is a shy boy. In the few classes you attend together, he keeps quiet most of the time, when he's not sleeping at the back of the room. Anyone would think he was just a weirdo, but you know better, his silly, clumsy ways were just the surface of what he was really like - Jisung could be quite silly when he wanted to be.

You should be in your classical literature class right now, but Jisung managed to convince you to skip it, just like all the others. Honestly, you don't know if you're going to be able to pass this class with the amount of absences you've collected because of the upperclassman, but that's okay... Jisung always makes it worthwhile.

He was leaning against the red brick wall, his knees slightly bent to be closer to your height and his legs slightly open so that you could stand between them. Jisung was also holding your hand, playing with the delicate ring on your ring finger, amused at how small your hand was compared to his.

He smirked as he pulled you closer, making you stumble with the sudden movement and, to avoid falling on top of him, you rested your free hand against his shoulder.

— Have I mentioned how pretty you look in red? — He joked in a condescending voice, knowing full well what he was doing.

You rolled your eyes before answering: — You've been more creative, Jisung.

— Can't I compliment my girl anymore?

— What do you want in return? — You replied without believing the lack of ulterior motives behind the boy's compliments.

— A kiss is enough — he smiled and pushed the tip of his tongue against your cheek before continuing — in thanks.

You rolled your eyes again, but you wanted it as much as he did, so you let him press your body against his and press your lips together in a deep, slow kiss. Jisung's hands were around your hips, which kept your bodies glued together, sneaking up under the hem of your red T-shirt, leaving an icy trail that chilled your heated skin.

When he reached the curve of your waist, he gently scratched your skin, just to feel you shiver - he made a mental note to thank Chenle for this tip later - and in retaliation you tugged at the brown strands at the back of his neck. Jisung sighed, but that wasn't enough. He brought his hands up again, covering the cup of your bra with his big palms and gave it a shallow squeeze. In shock, you pushed yourself back, away from him - for your own safety and sanity.

— Just a kiss, huh? As if! — You complained, making the boy laugh.

— As if you didn't like it.

#nct fanfic #nct x reader #nct 127 #nctzen #nct reactions #fluff #nct imagine #nct x you #nct 127 reactions #slightly suggestive

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artytaeh · 7 months ago

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⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

can i disagree with some of this fandom's perception of tom riddle? surely he won't be a sweetheart like lorenzo, but...

┊ i also don't think that he'd be so intentionally rude, so cold towards his significant other. i honestly think that if tom ever becomes infatuated with someone, he would take pride into getting this someone to belong to him. willingly! 🌷

౨ৎ i guess i'll never know the reason why you ♡ ͡

love me like you do; that's the wonder of you . . .

... tom riddle is a smart man, you see. love, romantic feelings, to act like a couple and all of those things— these might be the most confused that tom riddle will ever be, because otherwise, he's an extremely competent, capable young man.

tom riddle does get confused, a little lost on what to do; he'd torture himself by discreetly watching couples at hogwarts interacting, maybe make some research (= read novels. romantic novels. it was a discovery of a new medieval torture for tom, seriously, to waste his precious time reading some sappy crap like that.) to better understand how to handle you.

how to deal with you.

how to cherish you, so that you don't ever entertain the idea of leaving him. you see, tom is a practical man— he'd rather not commit mistakes, because to fail, means to spend extra time fixing his error and doing the same thing twice, so that this time, it's done correctly.

applying this ideology to you, it means: that 1) tom riddle prefers to always keep your heart happy, so that you don't have doubts about him; so that 2) he won't have to take twice the effort to conquer the city of your heart again.

some think that tom wouldn't like petnames. to be fair, tom would frown at many of those, at first— thinking that they were cringe, disgusting or a psychological way to acquire diabetes. however, when tom gets used to this stir on his heart, those loud heart beatings that cloud his rational thoughts...

... it's excused to say that tom's preferred petname to call you by, is 'my love'.

tom reasons that's because it isn't a lie at all. well, you're certainly his— and because of you, because of your existence, of this enchanting aura of yours; that's how tom riddle discovered love. there are few things that tom is attached to. even fewer that he shows to care about, to have affectionate feelings for; one of them is the basilisk. others are his favorite books, all of them first editions that were troublesome, but endlessly worth it, to get. nevertheless, at the peak of the pyramid, there's you.

you. oh, how your name sounds so angelic, so right, so perfect on his lips. sometimes, tom doesn't call you by any petnames, so that he can mouth each syllable of your name, tasting the acquaintance of the name of his darling on his lips.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

he might call you by other petnames, depending on the occasions:

darling; which, in his opinion, is fairly one of the best petnames to be shared between a couple. because you, reader, are endearing to his eyes— a darling, really, whose presence immediately softens (ever so slightly, because tom riddle still is tom riddle himself, and that mask of stoicism of his won't be broken without putting up a fight.) those previously icy, cold eyes of his.

dearest; if tom is trying to reason with you. unlike what many think, tom would take a deep breath, put on that handsome smile of his, and use a gentle tone to convince some words inside that pretty little head of yours. 'dearest', he calls for you— so gentle, so full of affection; as if reminding you that you are the object of all of his affections and desires. you, his dearest, the one he adores the most. the reminder of such a fact easily melts you in less than a few seconds, which tom sees as too perfect of an opportunity to lose to convince you much faster.

doll; if you look rather ravishing to his eyes, whenever you dress up even prettier than other school days, and wear such pretty clothes and many accessories to further optimize your beauty. beautiful, perfect, flawless; like a doll. a carefully made doll. a doll, that sits there quiet and all pretty, obedient, doing as she's told.

( i must warn you, though, that tom won't entertain silly nicknames from you. tom riddle will ignore you, march forward without sparing a glance at you, not even acknowledging your presence should you insist on the matter. tom won't answer you, should you refer to him by such hideous petnames. you could be about to fall from a mountain, and yet tom won't help you until you address him properly. baby? he's not a child, for salazar's sake! pookie bear? now that might make tom riddle himself throw you off from the mountain's edge— call him such a monstrosity like that, and tom will lose every drop of faith on you. you're a lost cause. )

if he had to choose; yes, tom would prefer if you were obedient. contrary to popular belief, tom riddle is quite fascinated with sweet personas. to have a sweet significant other, who's all smiles and considerate words— it's so, so much easier for tom.

between a brat that trashes around for his attention, and a sweet girl who gently tries to indulge (purely out of concern, wanting him to share his problems with her!)— tom would rather choose the latter.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

quite the darling you are. to boldly take tom's hands between your own, with that frown of yours. no, you're not being whiny; yet tom can see that there's consideration, there's time spent on that little brain of yours, that tries to find the right words to speak with him.

then, when you voice your concerns— that tom spends some time alone from time to time, seemingly hiding something from you, as if to shoulder all of those burdens all by himself...

tom takes a deep breath, swallowing his temper. trying to keep his composure, because tom hates having to justify his actions. with a smile, tom puts on a facade, with a too much convincing tone: "oh, dearest, no. i'm flattered that you noticed that i haven't been having the best days; however, your presence makes everything better. in fact, being with you now, makes all of my problems seem insignificant in comparison."

should his sweet words not be enough to keep your nose out of his business, then tom takes a step further. holding your hands, tom squeezes them between his fingers, gently at first, tightly when you're too stubborn: "my problems are mine to solve, my love. i would never put such a heavy burden on you; your smile is too precious for me to ruin."

sweet, sweet words; some that tom mentally grimaces at, but knows that are necessary and effective with you. talking as if he's doing you a favor on keeping you away from his PERSONAL thoughts and goals.

and that's how tom pushes you way. gently, smoothly— so that you'd have to rethink this moment over and over, for you to understand that once again, tom riddle has tricked you; tricked you into doing what he wants. because without a fight, without you daring to bother him further... tom riddle made you go back to your own business, and leave his alone.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

however, when tom is in a better mood and less stressed with his own goals, he'd find it funny, entertaining even, if his darling tried to be bossy. to pout, to want some sort of control. it's hilarious for him.

so, he indulges you. well, sort of— tom tricks you into thinking that he gave in to your commands. to your whims. in a sneaky way, tom makes you think that you're in control!

the one who's in charge is you. yes, darling, of course. he pats your head, gives you that charming smile of his. with such a serene expression, tom briefly raises his eyebrows, mocking you inside that devious mind of his, as he says: you are absolutely right, dearest.

tom riddle doesn't really mind that you aren't consciously aware that the one in charge is him. that's fine; no, seriously, go and brag about it!

because ultimately, tom knows that what he says, goes. that with some sweet words of his, a little touch here and there, that you'll soon see the reason and comply to whatever tom wishes you to say, to do, to behave.

he does is so smoothly, that even for the outsiders, well... it'd be hard to realize that all that tom riddle is doing to you, is nothing but manipulation. and you're oh so easy to manipulate— it was a challenge at first. now, it's more of a chore; tom barely blinks through it. he knows you so well.

however, so that you whining and getting used to think that you're having things done your way, tom throws some praises and compliments here and there.

touching you chin, gently brushing his thumb on your lower lip; tom's gaze intentionally softens, as he praises: 'you're just too good to be true, my love.', whenever you act accordingly. when you do as he says.

brushing a strand of yours away from your face, so that he can further admire the physical features of his beloved: 'i sincerely can't take my eyes of you, darling, when you are so good for me like this. pardon the way that i stare— you're too beautiful.'

and with even more sincerity, tom riddle isn't sure where his manipulation ends and his genuine care for you starts; tom isn't sure, whether his words are now a muscle memory of his, or if he truly means them.

but he never allows himself to discover the roots of this thought. to actually find out if he truly is such an emotionally shallow person, or if his weakness for his darling is deeper than he realizes. no— this is one of the few matters, in which tom would rather remain ignorant about.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

because tom is such a gentleman with you...

opening doors for you. walking two, three steps ahead of you as soon as the entrance is upon sight, tom will open the door for you; his arm keeps it open for you to enter or leave the room first, and so those grayish-green eyes of his watch you, as you pass by. then, tom will enter just behind you, following your lead, quickening his steps to go back to his rightful place by your side. he lies to himself, saying that he only does such a small gesture to effortlessly keep you by his side. tom would be telling the truth, if he doesn't interrupt the thought that he enjoys to escort you— because, deep down, tom genuinely appreciates your company. every step, every minute you spend together. 'here, love. please, continue; what did you tell your housemate, then?'

tom riddle refuses to let you carry heavy books. so, as if it was muscle memory and so smoothly that you can't do anything about it, tom will carry your books along with his, as soon as you leave the classroom. it's not that he finds you useless, incapable; rather, tom riddle perceives you as a... preciously delicate, fragile little thing. most of the times, tom does it so nonchalantly that you don't even notice; you're too distracted by your conversation, to notice how tom carries your stuff, busying his arms. however, should you notice or worry that you're being a burden to tom in any way; tom shakes his head at you, waving off this silly insecurity of yours: 'i know you can carry them, beloved. however, allow me to do it for you. i am your boyfriend, am i not?'

offering his hand for you to take, whenever there's a higher step to be climbed up, or tricky stairs on your way. tom will do it too, to give you some kind of support, should you jump off of a particular high edge. whenever you wear high heels, tom would be specially careful with you— he offers his arm or hand for you to take, walking in a much slower pace than usual, so that you won't overexert your feet. we can't have his darling getting hurt, now can we? no bruises, no pain, no redness on your skin undesired by him, nothing to interrupt the lovely time you're spending together. 'take my hand, my love; it's quite high for you. that's it, darling, good girl.'

whenever you're about to sit, tom grabs the back of your chair, pushing the seat backwards for you to take, then helps you settle closer to the table. only then, will tom take his own seat in front of you. it's something that becomes so, so common between both of you, that sometimes you find yourself taking a few more seconds to sit down, whenever you hang out with your friends; unconsciously, you'd wait for tom to gently guide you to your seat. oh, you're spoiled.

leaning down to get the material you accidentally knocked out; if he's not quick enough to notice, then tom will keep his hand on the edge of the table, so that there's no chance for you to hit your head. 'quite the klutz, aren't you, darling?' — with a lighthearted tone, so that he doesn't come by as mean, tom couldn't help but to tease you just this time, — 'next time, let me get it for you, dearest. now, careful with your head.'

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

... and because he's always so soft-spoken with you, well, how could you listen to your friends, in case they notice that maybe tom riddle isn't as a good guy as he lets on? that perhaps, he is a little controlling. that maybe, he's too overprotective of you.

→ and of course, being the fool you are, you stroll to the lion's cage (or should we call it snake?) and deliver all of this information on a silver platter for him.

SAT SIDEWAYS ON HIS LAP, tom settles your thighs to rest on top of his, while a hand is respectfully kept there; caressing the smooth skin, rubbing circles on the bare skin of your thigh, just inches underneath the hem of your skirt.

tom riddle keeps up a serene expression, sometimes humming in acknowledgement, to show you that he's listening to this ramble of yours. if it's a topic that seems to have bothered or upsets you, then tom will keep another hand on your lower back; he soothes you with small movements of his fingers.

oh, how funny. so this ravenclaw friend of yours, told you that it isn't normal for tom, your boyfriend, to comment whether you roll up your skirt during summer? that such a thing is being controlling? now that's something tom will have to deal with. perhaps, he'll only have to frame this irritating ravenclaw girl; have you ever thought that maybe, she's interested in tom? that must be why the ravenclaw is filling your pretty little brain with such absurd exaggerations of his doings. how lucky you are, to have an attentive boyfriend that easily notices when a friend of yours has bad intentions.

( for obvious reasons, tom despises amortentia. he finds it disgusting, but more than that, tom riddle perceives amortentia has a rather pathetic tool to get someone's affection. tom will never use it on you— he doesn't need to! however, he will get his hands on one, to use it on that nosy, insufferable ravenclaw friend of yours. only to prove his point. so that this nosy girl acts disgustingly flirty around tom, so that you'll come running back into his arms, crying about such an awful friend and that once again, tom was right. you apologize to him, for doubting his assumptions. you end this friendship and cut ties with the ravenclaw girl. and tom, well, tom riddle has once again rid both of you from troublesome outsiders. )

ah, now this is entertaining! so these friends of yours, housemates, have noticed that tom has been keeping an eye on you. now, dearest, that's rather silly, don't you think? so what if you seem to find the same familiar faces in the same space as you? do you really believe your friends' theories? that he sends his followers ''friends'' to follow you around the school? darling, hogwarts is quite enormous and spacious, yet all of you study together in the same castle. it's inevitable, to see familiar faces, here and there.

( however, tom will blame his followers. how difficult can it be, to follow, to stalk a girl like you? and to go unnoticed as they do that? sincerely, tom stares at them with such disgust, such disappointment, that his followers tremble under his gaze— the future dark lord even mentions the idea of getting rid of them. of throwing them away. after all, why would he need such useless, such incompetent boys like them, if they can't follow simple orders correctly? it's excused to say, that you'd never suspect being stalked again. 1) because tom reassured you that such a thought is rather silly; and 2), because these followers of tom riddle do a much better job. out of fear. )

oh, darling, what silly friends you have! sincerely, it seems like you only attract observant delusional friends, or attentive paranoid companies!

in the end, it doesn't matter if your friends tried to alert you about tom's toxic concerning flaws traits. because in the end, at night, he will have you nuzzling on his lap, holding you so tenderly; all of these warnings disappear into thin air, when tom makes you laugh at such accurate ridiculous accusations.

in conclusion: no, tom riddle would never be rude or snap at you; not if he can help it, not if he can keep his temper in check. he believes that the best way to keep you so effortlessly devoted and infatuated, to keep you willingly by his side, is to treat you with care (even if sometimes he has to manipulate his way into it). how lucky you are, to have such a obsessive caring boyfriend!

🪻 ; . . . fandom : harry potter.

— i'm endlessly faithful to theodore nott. however. the first to kick the entrance door to my heart was tom riddle. and what a man (i can't fix him. i would let him ruin my life him tho!), ladies and gentlemen.

the headers + gifs + icons aren't mine. credits to the respective creators ! 🌷

#tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle headcanons #headcanons #fluff #dark romance #hp fandom #hp fanfic #slytherin boys #slytherin boys react #christian coulson #tom riddle dating

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lunaekalenda · 9 months ago

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"Our first kiss was here." Satoru speaks while walking by your hand, stopping in front of one of the Jujutsu High entrances, decorated with big wood doors and high trees. You remember it, a specially hot day of summer, right before entering work, some years ago.

"I was so nervous, and the kiss was so messy..." Satoru frowns at your words, turning to face you. Your hand is still caged on his big one, and he takes the glasses away to look directly into your eyes.

"Messy? I remember it was really cute." He sits on a near bench, pulling you to sit on his lap. You feel your cheeks heating up as he starts to speak. "You were so cute that day... Well, you're always cute." Your laugh makes him smile, his hands running up and down your hips, his breath tickling your nape and his heart racing as much as yours. Spring is about to arrive, and the mountains are vivid green, decorated with explosions of pink and lavender. A sweet breeze takes away the hotness of the sun and plays with Satoru's white hair. He sighs.

"That day I wanted to say so many things to you, but still I was unable. I wanted to take your hands on this exact bench and just let everything escape. Lucky you today we have plenty of time, and I have way more things to say." His voice makes you turn towards him with curiosity, and he smiles, taking a hand to your cheek while the other keeps you balanced by your hips. "I wanted to tell you how much I liked you. How adorable is whenever you can't find a spot to leave your bicycle when you arrive, how cute you look when you apply chapstick quickly before entering work. I wanted to let you know that I could see you sleep for hours and that when you wake up, dressed in golden sun rays by my side, I feel the luckiest man alive. Because, from everyone in the world, you decided to share it with me. And you can't even imagine how big that is, love. You chose me. You always let me know the reason why you cry, and you let me calm you and assure you until I can see your smile again. You open yourself for me, you trust me and I keep that as a treasure. I'm able to hold you on your best days, but also on your worsts." Satoru kisses your shoulder before speaking again. "I could hear you speak about that novel you're reading for hours if that means you're gonna speak passionately about something you enjoy, and I will carry you to bed again and again, every single day you fall asleep watching a movie or playing a game on the couch. I will leave the blanket on your side when we sleep because I know you can't fall asleep if you're cold, and I will always keep an extra sugar cube on my pocket because you like your coffee sweet." your eyes feel teary, and he takes the first tear away with his thumb. The way he looks at you is so pure, so full of love and admiration, you can't take your eyes away from him. You take air. Your feelings feel way too big for your chest, and pressing your lips to his, you try to tell him everything you can't reach with words. How much you love him, how grateful you are, how lucky you feel to be able to spend your life with him. He kisses you back, hungrily, desperately, making you feel that he understood you and that he feels the same. He parts shortly, caressing your hips back, before standing up. "Let's go home, love. I still have a lot of things to say, a lot of things to show and a lot of things to do to you. "

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yandere-romanticaa · 8 days ago

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Haven't written about Viktor in a hot minute, no clue if anyone missed him but you're getting crumbs regardless of your feelings.

P.S. I'm editing this later after it was posted. I was very tired when I wrote this.

yandere mortician masterlist.

Every single evening, Viktor could find you sitting alone in a coffee shop.

It was standard procedure for him by this point, so much so that it even became a part of his schedule. He would always finish his work early and skip off to find you, always lurking in the comfort of darkness.

He was unsure on how to feel about seeing you like this. Like clockwork, Viktor would watch you scour your city for a new place to huddle up in for a few hours, always alone. Viktor always found this odd as he knew that you had some good friends, friends who you love and adore.

Why did you never bring them with you, he would often ponder.

Without skipping a beat, his heart never failed to swell with the tiniest hint of joy in catching you alone like this, even if Viktor knew all too well that he was no better than a phantom to you. It felt intimate somehow, watching you in your element like this. Sometimes you would bring a book with you and spend the time reading. Viktor was always curious which novels you liked, always quickly looking them up and finding out everything he possibly could about them. If he had the time, he would even go through some of those books if he could find them as he wished to learn more about your preferences.

Hours would pass, people would come and go. Viktor would sometimes tune back into the world around him and see how the rest of the world was doing. It was so fascinating to listen in to some of those conversations. People had plans, great plans and most of them would just go down the drain.

He never was much of an optimist. He was used to being compared to a stormy cloud of pessimism, but he never saw himself in such a light. Viktor always thought of himself as more of a realist if he was being frank. All those big dreams would stay just that - dreams. That was how things usually went for most normal people. Not even the most exceptional human beings on the planet could escape the dull ache of normalcy, the cold realization that you really were just one person in this world. If you were to die, the world would continue to spin, seasons would change and life would go on.

Sipping on his hot drink, Viktor laughed bitterly to himself. Life could be so cruel sometimes. The stench of the chemicals he was working with earlier clung onto him tight, causing some people to wonder what was so off about him. Viktor would try to clean himself from top to bottom, but it was all to no avail.

That was simply how his world functioned. Death and decay were nothing to him, all in the day's work. Although, his world was not so bleak, he supposed.

He had you now.

Every single person around him was trapped in their own little bubble, completely unaware of anything. He was no different, he supposed. His bubble consisted of his piping hot coffee, chill November air, the blinding lights and his favorite person in the whole world.

This was enough for him, for now.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yancore #yanderecore #yandere aesthetic #yandex #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc x you #yandere oc x y/n #yandere mortician #yandere mortician x reader #yandere viktor

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impish-baby · 1 month ago

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hello hello!! it is i, 📼 anon!! in your ghost caregiver writing, i saw you mentioned a possible haunted doll at the bottom of it, and it got my brain turning on how a haunted doll could be a caregiver and not a playmate, but then it clicked!! what if the doll isn't haunted by a child, but you think it's haunted by a child (at first). The doll is actually haunted by an adult who was in someway a guardian of a child, whether they have been a mom, a dad, a significantly older sibling that took in the younger one after something happened to their parents, etc etc. The doll was owned by their child/sibling/charge, and so their strong familial bond caused doll!caregiver to possess their charges favorite soft toy after their passing; so they could always be with them! But sadly, their charge grew older and packed the doll away. doll!caregiver couldn't reach them at that point, until years later when they were taken out of storage; they thought that they could see their charge again, but they just got donated to a thrift store with other knickknacks that their charge deem unnecessary to keep around :( And that's how dol!caregiver got into your hands! you popped by a small thriftstore while walking the town, and browsed around, eventually getting to an endcap near the back of store labeled "UNIQUE AND VINTAGE ITEMS", and there sat doll!caregiver! They'd most likely be a rubberfaced but softbodied doll, maybe a rainbow brite or a strawberry shortcake; something heavily associated with young girls from a while ago, but not too long ago, because that's why you picked the doll up in the first place! It reminded you of your childhood in some way, or maybe you were interested in older toys in general. Regardless, you brought them home, and almost immediately paranormal activity began happening. It was small things, like if you lost your keys, you'd turn around and find them on a very obvious spot you were sure you'd checked multiple times, or going to sleep with your TV on and waking up with it turned off. Little stuff like that, which made you look towards the little doll you'd brought home right before the activity began. You were a bit weary at first, but ran your memory back and deemed them harmless. You assumed it was haunted by a child, so you started to try and include it in things. You'd carry them around the house, you'd bundle them up in their own blanket at night, you even got them some little toys from the same thriftstore for them to play with! But that was all in vain, because the doll is haunted by an adult, an adult who's decided that you're their new charge. Whether or not they'd view you as a little sibling, a child, or something entirely different is up in the air, But they do care very much about you! They find it adorable that you try to take care of them- silly thing! they're the one who's supposed to take care of you! You're unaware of the spirit in the doll being an adult, and they're unaware that you think they're a child's spirit. They'll eventually do bigger stuff, like leave out milk and cookies when you get back from going out, or if you fall asleep in a chair or on the couch, you'll wake up to being tucked into your bed. doll!caregiver wouldn't want you getting a crick in your neck! + i didn't touch much on the yandere aspects of this idea, but i fear i may have yapped too much :( your writing is just very inspiring and I can't help but make an entire novel about the ideas u spur on,,, have a good day/night/whatever!! -📼 anon

Ahhh, this is so so good!!! I keep rereading it over and over, you did such a fantastic job with the concept!!

I'd forgotten, people are kind - Haunted doll caregiver x reader - 🧸

You take the utmost care with your vintage toys, carefully giving them baths and trying to give them the love they must have had from whoever owned them originally. It's a labor of love, repairing any tears and touching up paint to the best of your ability, but it's worth it. The newest addition to your collection definitely needed some repairs, face cracked and faded with a body that definitely expirenced some rough play throughout the years.

Once you're finished, you're proud to say it looks almost good as new! Delicately dressed back up, the doll is now ready to be tucked into bed beside you with a few of your other plushies.

Although, when you wake up the next day every single one has fallen to the floor, the doll being the only one left on the bed. You have to apologize to them for the tubble they took, setting the plushies back onto the bed in a way that you hope makes sure there's no more accidents.

However, it becomes a nightly occurrence. That's not the only strange thing happening either. Lights flicker on and off, doors slam, disembodied footsteps follow you, everything points you to the conclusion that your doll is very much haunted. The fact both saddens and makes you relieved in a way. It must be a child's spirit, but at least they won't be collecting dust in a stuffy old thrift store anymore..

They end up with a dedicated corner in your room, filled with toys you'd think they'd like, careful not to include any stuffies or other dolls. It's actually fun setting them up with a little tea party. They seem happier too! Notes crudley scribbled in crayon start appearing, touching even if they were unsettling at first.

The ghost is strangely fixated on how well you take care of yourself, almost scolding you for not eating three meals a day. The next morning, you wake up to your favorite cereal already poured with cartoons playing on the TV.

Mathew thinks you're just the cutest. You're so much like his little sister it's uncanny, but you won't abandon him like she did. He's sure of it. He had resigned himself to rotting away before you found him. You're his savoir, and Mathew will do all he can to give all your care back tenfold.

It's a little funny watching you talk to him like a child, but he supposes that's what it must seem like to you.

You've stopped paying so much attention to your other toys at least, thank goodness. Mathew feels a bit silly for being so upset with the fact that you supplied your love to them the same way, but he deserves it more. It hurts when you aren't looking at him, it makes him scared.

You're trying to color with him now, rambling on from one thing to another. He can't help but mess with you a little, only adding to his page when you aren't looking. But by the end of the night, there are two coloring pages proudly hung up at the fridge.

#i was actually very scared by haunted dolls as a child #probably ghost adventures fault #robert the doll especially #famial yandere #platonic yandere #yandere age regression #yandere agere #forced age regression #platonic yandere x reader #forced agere #yandere x reader #you've got mail! 📨#📼 anon #this was such a sweet idea!!#reader's friend: dude that thing is definitely haunted #reader: they are but they're just a baby :DD be nice >:(#i hope this was ok 📼 anon!

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absolutebl · 28 days ago

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This Week in BL - Many Tiny Idiots, Some Irreverent Hotness & an Engagement

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

Oct 2024 Week 4

Ongoing Series - Thai

Fourever You (Thai Thurs YT) ep 4 of 16 - OK so Hill has really been trying to pick him up from the beginning? I don’t understand why there’s any doubt around girls at all. He Gay everyone. Why is Tatch (2 Moons Ambassador) the only seme in Thai BL history allowed to actually just say "I don’t date women.”

Why is that so hard?

This show is definitely frustrating me, but I must admit that it’s the one I look forward to the most each week.

Love Sick 2024 (Thai Sun iQIYI) ep 6 of 15 - I am now only watching the uncut version, and I gotta say it makes all the difference. Please don’t watch the cut version of this show if you can possibly help it. It’s like cliff's notes of cliff's notes. I love the tiny side couple of tough kid + the dork of the music club. Ah the beach sequence. Condenced WAY DOWN, I see. We lost one of the most iconic lines in all BL but i think everything is improved by how much tighter the plot is in the remake (6 episodes became 1!). So I’m enjoying it. Weirdly, I'm not sure I would be enjoying it, if I hadn’t seen the original.

Is anyone watching this on iQIYI who hasn't seen the original? Just out of curiosity. Tell me how it's going for you, would ya?

I'm doing a face-off style watch along of this new version versus the original 2014-2015 version.

Kidnap (Fri YT) ep 8 of 12 - I don’t entirely get it. They were apart for approximately 11 minutes. I would’ve thought GMMTV would’ve drawn it out for longer and more angst. Smiley face kiss was cute, but the star of this ep was that gorgeous pale blue waffle sweater on Q. What a great color for Leng!

Jack & Joker (Thai Mon IQIYI) ep 7 of 12 - I do like that we’re seeing an honest exploration of poverty and hopelessness. I’m not sure how I feel about it inside my BL, tho I’m willing to persavere for this pair.

Battle of the Writers (Sun YT) ep 12 end - Someone said recently "just imagine what TutorYim could do with an actual script." And you know what? I agree. Because they sure as shit haven’t gotten one yet. And it’s getting quite frustrating. I’m having JaFirst flashbacks. Frankly, 2024 has been a year of unmitigated BL nonsense narratives. And I’m tired of it. I know it’s bog standard for the genre, but it feels like there’s been more than normal faff this year.

Summary

An incredibly convoluted, disjointed, and badly-paced drama that is about(?) some writers writing a thing and some boys who knew each other when they were kids, lots of pretty sexy times, and not much else. The visuals are gorgeous, the side couples are overly appealing (with little to no screen time), the dubbing and sound is absurdly bad, and the fantasy novel (play within a play) makes no sense whatsoever while also managing to be the show that we all actually wanted to see instead of what we were given. 6/10

In conclusion, I have no interest in attempting to understand or revisit this show, and I certainly wouldn’t recommend it, but if you have nothing better to do…… the sex is good (frankly I have exes that satisfy all the same criteria). So there it is: this show is like a bad but still hot ex.

Every You Every Me (Thai Mon Gaga) ep 3 of 10 - Nice to see Fiat in something again. Namping is very angel baby. This episode made me think that this pair would do a great Thai remake of Love Tractor, and now that’s pretty much all I want in life. I enjoyed wardrobe in this episode. It looks like we get the same characters next week. Cool.

Bad Guy My Boss (Thai Sun Gaga) ep 6 of 10 - I guess everyone is messy slutty bisexual in this show? Do I care? Not even slightly. BLabies, I don’t think I’m gonna make it. I might have to drop this one.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

See Your Love (Taiwan Weds Gaga) ep 1-2 of 13 - I adore it, what a wonderful meet cute. I love a Taiwanese BL that starts with a gratuitous kidnapping, some chasing, and a bit of a fight sequence. We in OLD fashioned territory.

Teenager Judge (Vietnam Sat YT) ep 5 of ? - I continue to enjoy it very much.

My Damn Business (Korea Sat YT) eps 4 of 7 - Oh! Is the sleazy boss gonna turn out to be actually a sleazy player? That would be an interesting twist.

Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo (Korea Thurs Gaga) eps 3 of 8 - I’m really not a big fan of my pain coming from Korea. I’m getting a whiff of To My Star 2 from this one. And that does not make me happy. I know: high quality high angst yada yada blah blah blah. But also unnecessary pain? No thank you.

First Note Of Love (Taiwan Mon Gaga) ep 12 end - Of course, I love the part where Reese and Orca spoke each other’s languages.

Conclusion

Had this been produced a mere 3 or 4 years ago, I would’ve been quite enamored. But by comparison to what we’ve been getting, this is a lackluster offering. A has-been musician and a much younger composer meet, fall in love, and attempt to rectify his stalled musical career. Cute side couple of a Thai popstar + his Korean manager. Everyone is very fine and it was a fine show. I wasn’t disappointed, but I wasn’t impressed either. 8/10

Love is Like a Poison AKA Doku Koi: Doku mo Sugireba Koi to Naru (Japan Tues Netflix?) 6 of 10 eps - It was a fun little confession and climax, there was crying, and a bridge kiss (been a while) all of this appeals to me even if they are tiny idiots (in the immortal words of @heretherebedork )

Eccentric Romance (Korea Weds Viki) eps 5-6 of 12 - More tiny idiot boyfriends who don’t realize they’re boyfriends. That’s it, that’s all that’s happening. Ostensibly there’s some kind of murder. But it seems to be acting more like set dressing than plot.

It's airing but...

The Hidden Moon (Sat WeTV) 10 eps - Supernatural romance (my ghost boyfriend trope) by Violet Rain (I Feel You Linger). A man is hired to write an article about an old mansion. He sees the ghosts of people who died at the mansion, falls in love with one of them. Was substantially recast. I loved IFYLITA except the ending so I think I'll let this one run it's course you can tell me if it's work tracking down... if they managed to land it. I have my doubts.