#how dare you call him ugly he is so gorgeous

[solarhysm]

DUST OF US - 01

> synopsis: 7 years ago Y/N broke Jungkook’s heart when she decided to end their relationship without an explanation. When they meet again at a friend's wedding, after almost a decade, Jungkook needs answers to move on.

> pairing: Jungkook x reader

> genre: romance, ex to lovers au

> warnings: explicit languages, violence, smut, cheating, nsfw, angst, +18 minors dni !!

> word count: 2.6k

*french writer, i apologize in advance for my awful english!

AGE: 27 years old

“Where are you going?” Baekhyun asks, stretching as you get out of bed and grab all of your clothes. It was late but you hate sleeping in another bed than yours.

“I should go home.” You simply say, pulling on your panties and jeans as the younger man whines, flipping on his back.

“Oh, come on, Y/N, stay the night.” He suggests as you shake your head with an apologetic smile while putting your bra on.

“Hyesun is getting married, tomorrow. I need to get up early,” You explain, but it was an excuse. You don’t want to be more than intimate enough with anyone.

Once fully clothed, you grab your keys and turn to look at the man still laying completely naked in bed. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Aight, boss,” He teases making you roll your eyes. “One last kiss?”

“Bye,” You smile closing the door of his room, hearing him laugh before making your way out of his apartment.

Once in your car, you sigh, leaning on your seat as you stare at the ceiling. Eleven pm already, and tomorrow’s list kept growing in your mind.

Your way home was silent, you didn’t even put music on, mentally listing all the tasks to do tomorrow morning. Drive Hyesun to the hairstylist, make sure that the flowers are delivered, get her dress, and a lot more.

The house should already be decorated by now. Hyesun was getting married at her in-law’s house. They have a big yard and suggested to make the reception in there. Since you couldn’t be here to help today, you ended up with the stressful tasks tomorrow. Her friends aren’t yours.

Yes, you still have a small circle of friends in common, but Hyesun was a sunshine and most of all: an extrovert. She met her husband by boldly asking his number at a coffee shop where he was working, five years ago. Something you could never. That’s probably why you’re still single and she’s getting married.

Kicking your shoes off at your front door, you’re greeted by your cat. He was a little terror. Or a demon like Namjoon loves to call him. And you can’t blame your friend. Not only was Trash a black cat with only one ear, the other got cut off. You don’t know how.

He was already like that when you adopted him. He was skinny and really ugly when you first got him. Well... he’s still ugly, but now he’s well-fed, maybe too much, you chuckle as you kneel to scratch the top of his head. But he was also a tiny demon who attacked everyone who dared to visit you.

“Did you miss me?” You coo as the black cat let out a meow husky enough to let you think that he smokes too many cigarettes. He’s not a loud cat, he occasionally meows when he’s hungry or when you come home after a long day.

As you make your way to the kitchen, the fat cat follows you. Opening the fridge, you take out a bottle of water and gives him a treat. Your eyes fall on the dress you’ll wear tomorrow, hanged at the bedroom door.

The wedding theme was midnight sky. So, obviously, your dress is navy blue and long enough to end at your ankles with a slit on the right side. You didn’t choose it, Hyesun did.

Palming your face, you take a sip of your water and walk to your bedroom. You need a shower. You could still smell Baekhyun’s cheap cologne on your skin. And you hate it. Too used to your own scent. Not of any men anymore.

The wedding was beautiful, but you didn’t expect less from your best friend. And she was gorgeous in her wedding dress. She smiles a lot, but you never see her smile that way. And all you could think was that her jaw muscles probably hurt after four hours.

“No, what I want, is a whole butterfly starting from my shoulders to my ribs,” Your friend, Hwan explains to you as she flips to show her bare back. You can’t help but scoff, taking a sip of your wine.

“Why? You want to become a fairy or something?” You ask arching a brow as she turns to face you, frowning.

“Don’t make fun of me,” Hwan pouts, folding her arms under her chest, “I saw it on Pinterest, I totally fell in love with it.”

“A tattoo is for life, you know?” You sigh, finishing your glass before tilting your head to brush your fingers on her back, right where her ribs are. “And this part is sensitive. It’ll hurt like hell.”

Hwan shivers at your touch, and you chuckle. You know her. She wants a tattoo today, a piercing tomorrow and in two weeks she’ll regret both. The red head -a dye she did without a second thought- rolls her eyes.

“And you think I can’t handle the pain?” She asks with an attitude, a tone that makes you pinch her forearm as she squirms and step back. “Are you crazy?”

“You can’t handle the pain, Hwan.” You conclude while she rubs the part that start to turn red.

“You’re the worst tattoo artist I know. I’ll give you a bad review on Google.” She groans as you smirk and stick your tongue’s out at her, making her smile amused by you.

Your eyes scan the room full of guests you don’t know before a huge smile spread on your lips as you notice the man all alone. He was sipping his glass of whisky as he looks at his phone, feigning to be interested but he’s probably scrolling emptily. You know him. He hates when people try to connect with him.

Excusing yourself from Hwan and the other girls, you make your way to your friend, too busy on his phone to see you coming.

“Yoongs,” You call him once you’re a few steps closer to him, he lifts his cat eyes from his screen before offering you a slight smirk and opening his arms as you nestle against his chest. You’re not really touchy, but with Yoongi, it was different.

“Nice dress.” He simply says, his nose in your hair before you pull back to look at him. He looks nice too. His hair is longer, but it suits him.

“You didn’t cut your hair?” You ask as he sighs, rolling a strand between his finger as you keep an arm around his waist.

“Didn’t have the time for it.”, He mumbles taking another sip of his whisky. “I didn’t know you would be here. Since you own a tattoo shop, we don’t see you often anymore.”

“It’s my best friend’s wedding, I couldn’t miss it. She would have dragged my ass back here.” you chuckle making him smile and nod.

“That sounds like Hyesun,” He jokes as you smile.

Yoongi wasn’t that tall, but he was still everyone’s type. Calm, mysterious, and good looking. If only dating was on his plans. That guy will probably stay single his whole life, too focused on his work.

“I was looking for you everywhere!” Hyesun groans grabbing your arm.

“I was here,” You simply reply, raising your shoulders, making Yoongi looks at you both amused. You probably get along because you’re both sarcastic. At least you know that’s something he likes about you.

“Thanks Sherlock, Mystery solved!” She rolls her eyes, before pulling you away from your friend, “Come on, follow me, I want to take pictures with you.”

She quickly waves at Yoongi, blowing a kiss at him as he didn’t move before pushing you away.

“He’s like a good old wine. Every time I see him, he’s getting hotter.” She smirks as you make your way to the photographer.

“Aren’t you married?” You joke making her roll her eyes.

“Married, not blind. As long as I touch with my eyes,” She adds as you shake your head, laughing, joining the girls.

Yoongi leaves his empty glass on the table next to him, an amused smirk on his face. If you stayed longer, he would have been part of an interesting reunion.

“Shit, I almost peed myself. There is a whole queue at the male bathroom,” The younger man groans, coming back next to Yoongi as he takes back his beer. “Hyung?”

The older man turns to his friend and arches a brow to show that he’s listening.

“Hyesun told me that there was a private bathroom upstairs for the closest friends” Yoongi simply mumbles, making Jungkook groans as he ties his hair into a bun.

“And you tell me only now?” the tattooed man sighs as he pulls up his sleeves, the temperature of the room getting hotter. Or maybe it’s him from running here and there.

“You left without a word,” Yoongi shrugs like it was obvious, his eyes still on the group of girls making funny faces at the camera. Jungkook lets out a chuckle.

“Which one?” He asks his friend who simply arches a brow. “I’m sure it’s the red head. You always had a think for girls with weird hair colors.”

Yoongi didn’t say anything. He’s used to the teasing. It’s a loss of energy, Jungkook was competitive and if you say that the sky was blue, he would tell otherwise until you tell him he's right.

Jungkook smiles proudly, turning his attention to the bunch of girls. Hyesun had pretty friends, but he’s not surprised. Until he recognized a face. A face he knows too well, a face he loved deeply once upon a time.

You didn’t change. Well… Your hair is shorter. You never liked your hair short, not after your mother spent your childhood cutting it into a bob.

The bangs too. You hated them. But today, you wore it gracefully. His doe eyes trail the length of it, how it brushes your shoulders when you laugh, how you have to push your bang asides.

He never hated you. Even after you broke his heart. Even after coming home to an empty apartment because you disappeared, or when you blocked his number and changed yours. He never hated you.

“You said she wasn’t here.” He frowns, turning to Yoongi who simply arches a brow.

“She wasn’t supposed to.” Yoongi replies, taking a sip of his new glass.

“I shouldn’t have come.” Jungkook sighs, his brows still in a frown creating a slight wrinkle between them.

“Kookie,” Yoongi turns his gaze to his friend who’s clearly uncomfortable. “You’re back in town. You both have the same friends group. What did you expect? You’ll have to confront her one day or another.”

“Y/N,” Hwan calls you as you were taking another glass of wine, facing her with a small hm? “The guy you talked earlier,”

“Yoongi?”

“Yeah, something like that. Do you know his friend?” She asks as you follow her gaze to the large man next to Yoongi, his back facing you. You liked the tattoos, and the muscular frame. The long hair was clearly a bonus.

“No,” You reply, your eyes trailing on Yoongi’s friend. You’ll definitely ask Yoongi who that is later.

“He’s hot,” Hwan comments as you nod, taking a sip of your wine before spitting everything out. You cough when the mysterious man turns around, laughing with your friend.

And almost immediately, you hide behind the table that separates you. Was this a joke?

“What’s wrong? One of your one-night stands?” Hwan chuckles clearly amused to see you, on your knees, trying to hide under the table. If only you could be sucked up by the floor. It was stupid. It was an old story. It’s been seven years since you dumped him like an old, forgotten sock.

“It’s my ex,” You almost whisper, making Hwan wide her eyes and hide with you like she even met him before.

You never thought that you’ll see him again. He disappeared for Japan right after your breakup for his studies. And you didn’t think about him since then. Well, it’s a lie.

You thought about him the three first years after your split. But, he was just some old memories from the shoebox under your bed. 

Some love letters written by a teenage boy, an empty bottle of perfume and a shirt of his that you didn’t have the heart to throw. But that’s all he was. A shoebox of memories.

“Oh damn,” Hwan murmurs, “How did you get that hot piece of man?” She asks as you roll your eyes.

He wasn’t that hot when you started dating him. He had a chestnut haircut, was too skinny even if he was the sporty type, and huge doe eyes. Now he’s…. a man.

“I think… I need to get out”, You swallow, get up and finish your glass. Walking to the backyard, you catch a bottle on your way.

Thankfully, Hwan didn’t follow you. A few persons were outside, some of them making out, the others too drunk, and probably getting some fresh air like you.

Did Hyesun invite him? Why did he come? He knows that she’s your friend. That you’d be here. Palming your face, you lean back against the wall, taking a sip of your bottle of champagne. Fuck… This is childish. You’re twenty-seven, for God’s sake. Act like an adult.

“Hiding?” You heard on your right, making you almost jump.

And here he was, a few meters away, a bottle of beer in hand. His eyes changed. He grew up.

“Good evening, Jungkook,” You breathe as he offers you a slight smile, his lips mostly forming a line.

“Good evening, Y/N,” He replies, making a few steps closer, “Long time no see.”

“Yeah...”

A silence falls between you before he takes a breath like he wants to calm his nerves too. Were you two nervous around each other?

“How… have you been?” He asks with a soft voice.

“Good. You?”

“Good.”

“Nice.”

You wanted to punch yourself. That conversation was stupid. Back then, you two could debate about everything for hours. Now, you can’t even have a basic conversation.

“I… Didn’t know you were back.” You say, looking at the grass at your feet.

“Yeah… I- I missed Korea.” He raises his shoulders slightly before taking a sip of his beer.

“Oh…Okay.” You scrunch your nose and take a sip of your bottle to not look too much stupid but his lips crease in an amused smile at the bottle in your hand. Neither of you says anything. And it’s weird. “That’s… some cool tattoos,” You add, trying to make the conversation as you point his entire inked sleeve with your chin.

“Yeah?” He chuckles awkwardly. “I always wanted tattoos.”

“I know.” You reply, almost immediately, making him lift his gaze to you as your eyes widen. “You- hm- You thought that Yakuza were cool.” you continue as he nods, his eyes still on you while you look away.

“You remembered.”

You clench your jaw slightly and take another sip of champagne. You hate champagne, but you didn’t read what was written on the bottle when you took it.

“Your father must be proud of you. I heard you had your own tattoo shop.” He says as your gaze soften. Jungkook and your dad were always close, he even called him ‘son’. Your father was in fact, proud of you.

“He is”, was all you could reply, and he nods silently before taking a deep breath.

“Can I… ask you a question? I need to understand something” He frowns a little, turning his head to look at the backyard before finally glancing back at you. He is waiting for you to answer and you simply stare at him. “Why did you leave me, Y/N?”

DUST OF US MASTERLIST.

WATTPAD.

buy me a coffee<3

[ladydragonkiller]

Get reverse-owled

His name is Owliver and he is my ugly ugly son

,,owliver,, i swear my allegiance to him for all eternity

[arabellasleopardcoat]

The girl with the pearl necklace (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: You marry Daemon to secure an alliance. But surprisingly, you find a haven in him.

Warnings: Fluff. Smut. Oral (F receiving) Talks of race, colorism, racism, and self-esteem issues.

A/N: This has to be my most personal fic. It might not be as universal because it is part of my personal experience with race as a mixed person living in what is essentially a mixed region. I hope I do not get a bad response, but I will remind you what the title of my blog says.

“YOUR HAIR IS ugly.” The girl says, displeased. She is trying to comb through your hair with some coconut oil, but instead of curling prettily, your hair just falls flat. She has been at it for at least half an hour, her tugs to your hair getting increasingly more painful.

This time, you cannot hide the flinch. Pain, you had excused with being her first day. Making a mess, with her being unused to your hair. But calling you ugly? She was but a serving girl, she had no right.

The girl looks horrified at what she has just said. She is barely fourteen. But yet again, you are too. You have never called anyone ugly to their faces. You keep those kinds of thoughts to yourself.

“She is young, milady.” The older maid, the one that is supposed to supervise her, says. She smooths your hair back, trying to fix it. Her touch gets more and more desperate the more she tries. Your hair will simply not obey. The younger one has put so much product on your hair, it looks greasy and unwashed.

You stare at your features in the mirror. The lighter skin, the shock of unruly hair, not quite a wave, not quite a coil, but rather something in the middle. Bad hair, your previous maids called it. You wonder why you bothered trying with maids again.

It is your cousin’s wedding. A lovely young woman, with beautiful dark hair that you bet never reacts this way.

“I am sorry, milady.” The younger maid offers.

Your eyes are still fixated on your mirror. You wonder if your mother ever has these troubles too. With her sleek hair, and foreign features, you doubt anyone dares call her ugly. She may not have a title, as you do, but she was once regarded as the most beautiful woman in Lys.

But you. Oh, you. With your too wide nose, but too upturned to be a dornish one. With your high cheekbones in a short face. With dark eyelashes, purple eyes, and hair that is not quite right.

It screams outsider. It screams, not here, not there. Not a famed beauty in Lys, not quite the Sword of the Morning.

“Get out.” You say, to the serving girl. “Get out, both of you.”

You need to wash your hair three times for all the product to come out. You are late to the wedding.

The serving girl is relocated to the kitchens, where no one needs to talk to her. The older one is sent to tend to your father. You pass her sometimes, in the hallways of Starfall, and wonder if she is thinking your hair is ugly too.

You wonder the same thing on the day your fate changes. You are getting dressed when you see her, an ill omen in the middle of Starfall. Prince Qoren has summoned all the unwed noble ladies of Dorne to Sunspear, wishing to announce something. You think it can’t be anything good, considering he has refused to use a royal proclamation to do so.

The travel to Sunspear is taxing. You travel to the capital accompanied by your mother, a day before the actual meeting is set to take place. It allows the two of you to spend the night in a manse before having to meet the royal family.

She doesn’t know how to fix your hair. Your mother’s hair is pale silver, easy to manage and twist in the ways women up north prefer. She had tried hard to tame yours as a child, spraying it with water and stretching the curls with a brush so it laid flat. It never seemed to work as it did in hers.

You pin your hair up, a clip made of pearls and amethysts keeping it up. You do not have the same texture most women here have, that ensures gorgeous volume, so you play to your strengths, showcasing the deep color you have and using it as a backdrop for gorgeous accessories.

Your dress is chosen with great care. A deep lavender, with a tasteful cleavage, held at your shoulders by twin brooches of falling stars. Not even hearing your mother say you look beautiful eases your anxiety. You had seen her, the servant. She only appeared in your life when something was about to happen.

You are not the superstitious kind, but when you stand in a line in front of Prince Qoren’s throne with all the noble maidens of Dorne, you know you were right. That woman was a bad omen.

Prince Qoren smiles. It doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I am glad all of you chose to accept my invitation.” He stands. All the women in the room drop into a curtsy. “When I look at you, I see the best this Kingdom has to offer. It makes me proud. And it makes me confident enough to know I can ask this of you.”

You tense. Whatever he is going to ask is something bad, you can already tell. Some of the more clueless girls in the room look flattered by the delicate compliment, but it is a tactic you know well. You have been mocked enough to know that when someone compliments you so elaborately, a but usually follows. And it tends to be devastating.

His kind demeanor isn’t fooling you. Not in the least.

“We have never coddled our women, as the other Kingdoms do. War is coming for us, and we need strong allies. The Iron Throne offers us their support, but as always, it comes with a price.”

War. Of course it comes down to it. You have heard your parents whispering about it when they think you cannot hear. How Prince Qoren is thinking of sending his troops, instead of his money. How he expects your brother or father to lead them, sometimes against the Triarchy, sometimes against the Iron Throne.

It seems he has made his choice. Against the Triarchy. Your heart is seized by the sudden terror of the thought of your father going to war and not coming home. His sword, Prince Qoren called him.

Your house has been Dorne’s sword for decades. Ever since the first Dayne picked up their sword from the heart of a flaming star, you have defended the Kingdom against their enemies. Your very home once burned because of it.

Amongst the tales of flaming swords and fallen stars, you had never thought war would touch your home. Your brother was the current wielder of Dawn. Your father the head of your house. They would have to fight.

“A marriage pact. From a daughter of Dorne, to a Targaryen Prince. To bind our kingdoms, to ensure peace in this new alliance we embark. Dorne must remain unbowed, unbent, unbroken. House Martell has no daughters of their own to offer, so we ask one of you to go on our stead. It’s us who will pay your dowry, and you shall always have a home here.”

His words barely register as you brood about the upcoming war. You have heard of the Crabfeeder, and his brutality. You think of your kind, kind brother, and his sweet smile. He is a few years younger than you, untested in battle yet.

Some girls cheer. You look at your mother and notice she has the same stricken look you must be sporting. Some of the other parents talk animatedly between themselves, calculating the potential such a match offers their daughters. None seem to realize what it means.

War. War will come for Dorne, and the situation might turn out so bad, proud Prince Qoren will need the dragons’ help. The once unbowed man is being made to bow so low his forehead is touching the floor.

Prince Qoren raises a hand, quieting the hall.

“I am not asking for volunteers. I simply wished to gaze upon you myself, and decide who will marry Daemon Targaryen.”

Mumbles start again, some girls sounding disgruntled. Others preen and titter, trying to attract the Prince’s gaze. You keep your eyes firmly trained on the wall in front of you.

You would rather not marry this Daemon Targaryen. The politics in the other kingdoms are not your forte, but you have a vague notion of him being the brother to the current King. He must have a dragon, of course. And you think he is the one who has been in the conflict at the Stepstones, so he must be some sort of warrior.

No matter how much of a catch he might be, you wish to stay. If war is truly coming, you cannot bear to think of being separated from your family. Your mother will need you, when your father and brother are called away. And you don’t imagine yourself in a foreign land, waiting for news about them on your own.

Prince Qoren makes his way down the line of maidens. You barely spare him a glance, your mind thousands of miles away. But he pauses in front of you, looking at the shooting stars in your shoulders, the deep lavender of your dress.

“I hear Daemon Targaryen likes his women fair.” He comments. “And you are the fairest of us all.”

You swallow, throat suddenly dry. It takes all of your willpower not to fidget under his gaze. You give him an awkward smile.

Prince Qoren reaches to touch the brooch. His hands are elegant, fingers long and lean. He is about your mother’s age, and wears it just as well.

“Lady Dayne, is it?”

“Yes, my Prince.” You say, meeting his eyes. You may not be a classic dornish beauty, but you were still raised by the most charming woman in Lys. There are hardly any other women with manners as refined as yours, and you know all about the games men in power enjoy playing.

You cannot fawn over him. You cannot show him weakness. Because if you do, you will be common in his eyes, unespecial. It is not about beauty. It never is. That thought has given you great comfort during the years.

“How fitting. My dearest sword will be the one to defend her kingdom.”

Your hands begin to sweat. His choice is predictable. It is the same thing you had been thinking about your father and brother, House Dayne is the sword of Dorne. And swords, even more feminine ones, are only useful when war comes.

It doesn’t make it easier, that you should have expected it. It only makes your chest hurt. You do not dare look at your mother.

Instead, you drop into a curtsy and look at Qoren Martell as if he has made you the happiest woman in the world.

“I will be honored, my Prince.”

He smiles.

“Please, call me Qoren. We are to be family now.”

You look at your mother, insides turning to ice. You wonder how long until he takes you away from her.

In the end, it only takes a month. Qoren had been eager to depart and fix the realm’s issues. You now know plenty about the war in the Stepstones. Apparently, your future husband had secured the victory, giving the killing blow to the leader of the opposing army. But while won, the threat to your Kingdom remains. The Triarchy shall always reform, and not even the death of the Crabfeeder can stop them. Like one of those awful serpents from myth, you cut off its head and two more appear.

Pulling your support as the Triarchy was losing had been a bad move. They blamed Dorne for their defeat, and the Iron Throne thought the dornish were cowardly, only making their choice when it was clear who would lose. To avoid petty revenges and more bloodshed, Dorne needed new allies. And you needed them fast.

“We negotiated a new title for you.” Qoren tells you, as the carriage takes you from the docks and towards the Red Keep. “When you marry, you will become a Princess too, instead of remaining a Lady.”

“That sounds exciting.” You give him a bright smile. It's a very genuine one. Hearing yourself announced in such a manner would please you. “It will be strange, of course, changing it.”

“Nonsense.” Qoren laughs. “Only the best for my daughter.”

You falter, and decide to peer out of the window to hide your expression from him. You do not want him to think you are ungrateful.

The night is awfully cold, but you barely feel it. You are dressed in a purple velvet dress, still amazed by the material. You had never worn something so expensive, or made of such a warm fabric. It has the traditional dornish cut, with a plunging cleavage, but you find the added long sleeves fascinating.

The royal family had spared no expense in preparing your trousseau. As a daughter of House Martell, only the best would do. Obviously, all in their colors. This purple velvet gown was one of the few purple items you had been allowed to bring. It saddened you, having to forsake the color. You had always felt pretty in purple, since it matched your eyes.

You weren’t too sure how you felt about everything. Being sent to protect your kingdom and, by extension, your family from war was a great thing. But you were also being asked to leave your identity behind.

Never having left Dorne before, the journey had excited you, but also made you feel acutely lonely. And the thought of having to let behind your family, your colors, and even your name, only served to make you feel worse.

Your father would not be the one giving you away during your wedding, nor would your maiden cloak be the one of House Dayne. Instead, you would wear the sun and spear of House Martell.

But at this moment, as Qoren gets out of the carriage and extends you a hand, you are a Dayne. The purple dress acts a beacon, attracting the gaze of every servant in the vicinity. You stand tall, a star pendant hanging between your breasts.

You will enter decked on your colors. You will greet your future husband as you are, dressed in royal purple. Be a Dayne one last time, before war takes even that from you.

You breathe in and out, the polluted night sky so different from the beautiful stars in Dorne. This is it, you think, a chance to start over. To be whoever you wish to be. These people do not know what a dornishwoman should look like, or how she should behave. They do not know your hair is odd, and so are your eyes. They will only know what you want them to know.

“Go change, my sword. Your maids have selected a dress.” Qoren places his hand between your shoulder blades, pushing you towards the Red Keep. Your smile falls. For a second, you had thought you could attend the feast as you were, draped in your familiar purple and silver. “Make us all proud.”

You should have known better. But it is no matter now. A new life awaits you. Not even Qoren can sour your mood. You square your shoulders and smile.

So focused you are on your inner motivational speech, you do not notice the man watching you, his features covered by a black hood.

The day of your marriage, Daemon presents you with a beautiful pearl necklace. It is made of the purest pearls, with the biggest one you have ever seen right in the middle. It is bigger than the fingertip of your thumb, a perfect circle, roughly the size of a gold dragon.

“My cousin helped me commission this.” He says, during the wedding feast. He presents it to you in a small box, insides lined with velvet. As you reach for it, Daemon closes it, nearly catching your fingers with it. You laugh, startled. He grins at you. “Ah, I want to help you put it on.”

Your fingers fiddle with the simple silver chain you wear, star pendant hanging between your breasts. The hesitation must show on your face because Qoren, at your side, answers for you.

“She is honored, I am sure. Such a gorgeous jewel, to sit in the neck of the greatest beauty Dorne has to offer.”

You smile, trying not to let the sudden flare up of bad memories the words bring you. You remember a young girl, calling your hair ugly. Your grandmother’s face, sneering as you passed her in the hallways. Half-breed, she says, after having too much wine. Not quite right.

The subtle, more hidden, cruelties of girlhood that made your heart ache. When you did not make the list of the most beautiful girls some page was making. How much of a late bloomer you were, by dornish standards. How you had to wait so long for your first kiss, when it seemed like all the other girls were having them already.

Will this be all your life will ever be? Looking for the poison dripping from each word? Doubting every compliment?

You give Daemon what you hope is a seductive look, from beneath dark lashes. You are not good at seduction, having been an observer most of your life. But you are good at pretending.

It has worked, so far. Your arrival, on Qoren’s arm and with an honor guard fit for a Queen, had made people look at you differently. Men, specially, look at you as something exotic. They whisper about your Lyseni mother, and the tricks you must know how to perform. It fills you with dread because once again your looks set you apart, and you don’t quite feel like a person. You had hoped things would be different here.

And they are. Their attention is different, but it’s still wrong and you don’t quite believe them. They only want you because of the novelty, because of rumors about dornishwomen, about how your mother trapped your father. Not because you are beautiful or desirable. It’s sickening.

“Come, husband. Take my necklace off.” And Daemon obeys you, coming to stand behind you. Before he can begin to fumble with your hair, you reach for your hair on your own and lift it to expose your nape. You twist it into a pretend up do, holding it up with your hand.

The gesture is as languid as you can make it, highlighting the curve of your arm, and the elegance of your movements. The cold air hits your neck, making the hairs there stand up.

You both feel and hear Daemon’s sigh. He blows a soft puff of air against your hair, the noise very loud in the small table that seats only Qoren, Daemon, and you. The Queen has already retired, her sickly husband in tow. The Princess and her husband are dancing merrily between the tables.

When you had met Daemon, your first impression of him had been that he was very Valyrian looking and surprisingly whole for someone fresh out of war. And then, he had looked at Princess Rhaenyra and you had understood what Qoren meant when he said he liked his women fair.

Your stomach had turned, back then. Valyrian indeed. Rhaenyra was all milk white skin, light lashes and soft features. You couldn’t compete, you had thought. But then, you had noticed how his eyes followed little Laena Velaryon and you had known there was a chance for you to succeed too. It wasn’t skin color, but Valyrian heritage.

You have been trying to seduce him, with various degrees of success. The attention men pay you is helping you, and so are your purple eyes. You hope tonight goes well. You think you have just about enough Lyseni blood in you to keep him hooked.

His hands gently unclasp your pendant. He pockets it, you think. A memento or because he intends to give it back to you? You feel as his fingers whisper against your collarbones, and this time it’s you who sighs.

You are dramatic about it. Your lips part, as if about to be kissed. Your head tilts back.

“Beautiful.” Daemon whispers, in your ear. He kisses the shell of it.

“It is a gorgeous necklace.” You reply, feeling your face heating up. You feel drunk already, and you have not drank a single goblet of wine yet.

“No. You.” And the kiss against your ear becomes open-mouthed, his heavy breath filling your hearing. His hips brush against the backrest of the chair, searching for closeness. This is something that cannot be faked, you think. Not this kind of desire.

He wants you. He wants you, and you only wish to close your eyes and let him take you right here at this table. You are no blushing maiden, for sure, but you still are new to intimacy. Too many hang-ups about your body and not quite pleasing attempts have not contributed to building a vast knowledge of it. The fact that he wants you so badly makes you wild.

“I think that is my cue.” Qoren says, breaking you out of your stupor. He drains his cup, clearly in preparation for leaving. You had never felt such a connection with someone, not even in Dorne, where pleasure was loud and open. You press your hands to your face, ashamed of having forgotten he was there. Daemon simply chuckles.

“You don’t have…”

“Dearest sword.” He says, as he plants a kiss to your forehead. “You are as tempting as your husband is selfish. He doesn’t seem in the mood to share you.”

“I am not.” Daemon agrees, squeezing your shoulder. He exchanges a look with Qoren over your head. You can only see Qoren’s answering smirk.

“I think I should call for the mummers early.”

You and Daemon slip away as a company of puppet masters from Dorne make their grand entrance, throwing colorful powders in the air.

Later that night, as he sleeps in your shared rooms, you slip on a robe and stand in front of the mirror. Daemon has a massive one, right at the foot of the bed. Mirrors have always scared you, and sleeping so comfortably as he does with one reflecting him is unfathomable. You only intend to cover it.

Mirrors are supposed to be portals to other worlds, your mother used to say. The thought is stuck in your head, so you have grabbed a linen and are ready to place it over it when something catches your attention.

Your reflection. She is glowing, barefoot and in a simple robe, but still wearing the necklace your husband has given you. It should look gauche. It should look too much. But somehow, the necklace looks just right in your neck. You remember Daemon’s eyes, filled with desire when you had bared your neck to him. The sensual way he had touched you tonight, cradling you in his arms, rolling around in his bed. The necklace on the nightstand.

You look at the way the pearls light up your face. For the first time, you feel beautiful.

You make your first mistake a few days after.

It’s the first day of the week, and the Queen has asked you to have tea with her. You go, happily. After Qoren’s and the guards left, you began to feel lonely. There is not much to do here, either. Most of your usual entertainments are considered too sinful or crass. You can not even go for a walk around the city because they deem it too dangerous.

The meeting with the Queen is sour. She is trying, you can tell, but you still hear the disdain in her voice when she talks about your customs, or your people. She eyes the necklace you wear with distaste.

You get the feeling she buys the tales about you. That you are some dornish beauty, exotic and trained in the arts of seducing men. She comments on your mother, on her luck for marrying up, and you have to remember yourself to bite your tongue.

From what Daemon tells you, she is very lucky herself. Going from Lady to Queen is almost as impressive as going from merchant’s daughter to Lady, and you know which one of them did not need to spread her legs for it, and it’s not her. Not if you judge by her plain face.

You look at her, scandalized and pious as she is, ranting about acceptance of bastards of all things, and you surprise yourself at your own cruelty. You should not have thought that. But you are just so angry…

You take a deep breath and look away, trying to calm down. It is then you notice. In the door of the solar, standing to attention, is a man who looks like you.

He has inky dark hair, and olive skin. His eyes are dark, and he has a light stubble, probably because when you have hair as dark as he does, it is difficult to hide body hair. He wears armor and a white cloak. Kingsguard, you think. Why hasn’t anyone told you there was someone else from Dorne here, too? How could you not know?

Queen Alicent follows your eyes, suddenly noticing you are not paying attention. Your eyes are glued to the knight. She frowns in disapproval.

“That’s Ser Criston Cole. My sworn shield.” She stresses the word my. You grab your teacup and take a sip, to hide your smile. Is the pious Queen in love with her knight? “And a member of the Kingsguard.”

She is reminding you of his vow of celibacy. You almost laugh. If she wasn’t so repressed, she would realize she is the one who wants to jump his bones. The only interest you have in him is the fact that he might become a friend.

“Do your guards always stand inside your rooms?” You ask her, doing your best to sound puzzled. “The King’s guards stand outside his, and so does the sworn shield of the Princess.”

“…” Queen Alicent blushes, and averts her gaze. There are no further invitations to have tea with her.

You spend a lot of time staring at Ser Criston. He never returns your gaze. You seek him at mealtimes, you greet him in the corridors, but he always manages to evade you before you can properly start a conversation.

Daemon notices. He always does. He is finely attuned to you, his perfect wife. His prize after the war, his star. A study in contradictions, brazen and bold one moment, shy the next. He seems to like you even more for it. What he doesn’t seem to like is your sudden fixation on Criston Cole.

“You should stay away from him, star.” Daemon whispers, when he catches you staring at him once more. His voice sounds irritated. Accusing. As if you have done something wrong. It makes you bristle immediately.

“I am doing nothing wrong.”

“No one said you are. But Cole is….” Daemon shakes his head. “It is unwise. That’s all I mean to say.”

“What is unwise?” You scowl. You are glad that the table is long enough that no one else overhears you. Knowing Daemon, things are about to get nasty. He will throw in so many insults, Ser Criston would beat him into a pulp if he heard. No matter how competent your husband is, you still worry. “Trying to talk to him?”

“He is a cunt.” He says, cutting your meat for you as if you were a child. From your place in the dais, you seek him once more. Ser Criston is standing on the entrance of the hall, watching carefully as his Queen dines with the King and the two of you.

As if sensing your gaze, he looks towards you. Then, he quickly averts his eyes.

“I merely wish to speak with him.” You say. “He is like me. Dornish.”

“Ser Crispin will only disappoint you. Both in personality and in prowess.” Daemon warns. He pushes his goblet closer to you. “Here, try this. Arbor gold. How does it compare to the swill you like to drink?”

You take a sip of his goblet. You scrunch up your nose, The wine is cloyingly sweet, lacking the strong notes Dornish Reds always have.

“Ugh.” Your lips pucker up in disgust. Daemon laughs, and steals a kiss from you, licking into your mouth for good measure. But before you can begin to properly enjoy it, Queen Alicent coughs. You push Daemon away, even though you are doing nothing scandalous. “You taste like it too.”

“And you taste of that swill you dornish call wine. Yet, I am not complaining.” He takes a sip of his goblet.

“Are you jealous of him?” You ask, suddenly. You have heard about the rivalry between the two of them. Everyone knew of how Cole had obtained his position. He had been a simple knight, until Daemon had lost to him during a tourney. The act had caught Princess Rhaenyra’s attention, and secured him a white cloak. “Ser Criston?”

The thought of Daemon thinking you want to invite Cole to your bed is enough to amuse you. While in Dorne, paramours are more common than here, you are finding monogamy pleasant. You had never been much for sex without love, after all. Only one taste had been enough to satiate your curiosity.

“You shouldn’t toy with fire.” He growls, perhaps confusing your amusement with a deliberate attempt to tease him. It only makes your smile widen.

“Did you know…?” You begin, with an airy tone. Daemon sets down his cutlery. He turns to look at you, licking his lips. “My ancestor, Ser Joffrey Dayne, crossed paths with Queen Visenya. She burned Starfall, after he attacked Oldtown.”

“House Targaryen has always defended the Highcunts, it seems.” Daemon’s brows furrow together. It is no surprise he knows about it. One of the things that have bonded the two of you together is the fact that both of you are obsessed with family history. What he doesn’t know is why you are referencing it now.

You smile. One of your hands goes to toy with the necklace he has given you and that has become your constant accessory, bringing attention to your neck. It is a deliberate move. You intend to be ravished tonight

“I do not fear fire. We Daynes got Dawn from the heart of a falling star. “

Daemon kisses your temple.

“Oh? And I cannot wait to see you burn.” And he is pulling you to your feet, and you are slipping outside with a hurried curtsy.

Despite Daemon’s warnings, you still decide to approach Criston Cole. It takes you almost a week to build up the courage to do it, and another more to mention it to Daemon.

You do not want him to feel blindsided, so you include him in your planning. It is only when he shows up at the Sept that you realize Daemon intends to go with you.

Even the Septon pauses when he sees the two of you enter the Sept. Considering the court thinks you a temptress, and him a rogue, you are not surprised.

You are not particularly pious. While you had been educated on the Faith of the Seven, Dorne practiced a much diluted version. You had not attended a service in quite some time, but you try to focus on it to keep your nervousness at bay.

The plan is to intercept Ser Criston when the service ends. Daemon is under strict instruction to remain sitting, as to not unnerve the other man. But of course, things do not go according to plan.

As soon as the Septon gives his last blessing, you sprung up and step closer to the knight.

“Ser Criston, a word?” You ask him, your voice soft and nonthreatening. It is not as if you want to impose your presence on him, but you are unsure of why he flees rooms when he sees you. Perhaps he is shy, or perhaps you have offended him, but you will never know if he doesn’t speak to you.

“Do not talk to me!” He snarls, getting up from the bench. You try to reach for his arm, but Cole is quicker than you, grabbing your wrist tightly. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Daemon getting up from the bench where he was waiting for you.

“Ser… I only wished you to invite you to have tea with me.”

“I will not get into your bed, Lady Targaryen.” The man snarls at you. “Perhaps it is allowed in Dorne, but I assure you, here we do things differently than your people. Propositioning a man is…”

“I am not propositioning you!” You say, hotly. The words he is spewing at you leave you bewildered. You have never heard another dornishman speak so. “What do you even mean by that? Your people! You are dornish too.”

“I am not.” But before he can give you an explanation, Daemon is stepping in, and unsheathing his sword. He places his body between Ser Criston and you.

“I would suggest you unhand my wife.” His voice is cold. “Or you will lose the hand.”

“And you! You support her… Her… She should be sent back to Dorne, but she doesn’t even belong there, does she?” And Ser Criston stomps off, clearly unwilling to engage Daemon in what would probably end up as a fight to death.

Daemon looks willing to go after him, but you make a pitiful noise that is a cross between a sob and a whine. The rejection hurt more than usual, having grown unused to cruelness during your stay on King’s Landing. And the remark about you not belonging in Dorne?

It stung. You had not heard that insult in ages. It made you think of the serving girl, and your grandmother muttering you had bad hair, of your odd little features and strange coloring. Not quite Andal, not quite Rhoynar, not quite Lyseni.

Ser Criston looked like you. Of everyone, you would have expected him to understand. To see you.

You had only wanted a reminder of home. Careful with what you wish for, indeed. Your eyes feel suspiciously wet.

“Oh, that cunt. I’ll cut off his dick and feed him to Caraxes…” Daemon mutters, a thunderous look in his purple eyes. He then presses his forehead to yours, giving you an impish grin. “Not that it would be much food, would it? Like a worm, I bet.”

It makes you laugh, despite yourself.

“There you are.” Daemon smiles, brushing your tears away. “Come. I need you to see something.”

He takes your hand and leads you towards your shared rooms. You frown, slightly. Does he have some sort of present to give you? It’s unusual to be going there so early in the morning.

When Daemon opens the door, a maid is still sweeping the room. He barely spares her a glance, dismissing her with a wave of his hand. The girl looks disgruntled. You offer her a silver dragon for her troubles as she leaves, noticeably cheering her up.

The bed is freshly made, and the room smells of lavender. Outside the windows, the birds chirp. You see nothing unusual.

“What was I supposed to see? You interrupting the maid? Poor girl.” You mutter, kicking off your shoes. “Do try to make her life easier.”

But he doesn’t answer, choosing instead to pull out the chair in your vanity. It is a rarity, the whole set a gift from Qoren to furnish your new rooms. It has a beautiful mirror attached that reflects you from the waist up when you sit in front of it.

“Come.” Daemon says, simply. So you do. You know better by now than to disagree with him when he is in one of his moods.

You sit in the chair, dutifully. Your reflection looks a fright, so you try to avoid looking at yourself too much. He stands behind you, hands caressing your shoulders lighty, prompting you to look up.

“I have noticed.” Daemon starts, meeting your eyes in the mirror. “That you are always self-conscious when I look at you for too long. Or when I take your clothes off.”

You avert your eyes. It is true. You feel strange when Daemon looks at your body. The awe he holds in his gaze is both exciting and humbling. You never feel worthy of such worship.

“I would say we are past the maiden’s modesty.” He chuckles. “We made sure of that, didn’t we?”

“I…”

Daemon begins to unlace your gown. The presence of the mirror is making you self-conscious, so you reach for your bodice, and hold it up with one hand.

He pauses. He studies your expression, before dropping a kiss to your curls.

“Don’t cover yourself, wife. I love looking at you.”

You take a deep breath. You want to tell him the truth, for once. Daemon has started to suspect that despite how much you enjoy intercourse with him, something is wrong with your self-esteem. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have staged this intervention.

“I just don’t like how I look much.” You keep your voice low. Shame begins to freeze you up, making you tense and unable to speak. Your heart beats loudly in your ears.

“Madness.” Daemon laughs. He kisses you, slow and sweet. His lips move tenderly against yours, coaxing you out of your shell. You wonder how such an impatient man can have such infinite patience when it comes to you.

The thought makes you melt. Daemon smiles against your mouth and pulls back. He comes back to standing behind you.

“Look.” He orders. And you, helpless under his spell, cannot disobey.

You look at your reflection. Your hair is in even more disarray than before. Your lips are red and kiss swollen. And your eyes… You look dazed.

“We are just getting started.” Daemon promises, his hand coming to caress your collarbones. This time, when he pulls down the bodice, you do not fight it.

He kisses your head.

“You asked me once, if I was jealous.” You turn towards him, confused at the sudden change of topic. Daemon shushes you, squeezing the back of your neck as if you were a misbehaving pup. You look at yourself again, knowing there is no point in disobeying. Daemon always gets his way.

“I am jealous.” His voice is firm. He leans in, and kisses the top of your hair. His talented, skilled hands, take the pins off from it, so it frames your face once more. You fight the urge to fix it, to give more volume to your roots. You don’t like how limp it falls sometimes. Daemon presses a kiss to your earlobe, and whispers. “Of the very breeze against your hair.

Your eyes widen. You do not dare take them away from the mirror. On it, you watch as he presses a kiss behind your ear, as he mouths at your neck, just barely reaching the necklace that sits there.

“Of the pearls you wear, for holding on to your neck. “ You feel his words against your skin, making you shiver. He wraps it around one of his fingers, the pearls tensing just so to feel more restrictive against your neck.

Your lips part in a sigh. The tension of the pearls makes you think of a collar, and his deft handling of them a leash. Ownership.

“Sometimes, when I see you around court, I imagine this.” He tugs the pearls upwards, placing them between your lips. You watch, in a daze, as your reflection parts her lips more, welcoming him in.

He places the biggest pearl between your teeth. You find yourself mesmerized by this stranger you are watching, being turned into an artwork in front of your very eyes.

“You are exquisite.” Daemon gives the pearls a tug, pulling them slightly up. They catch on your hair, contrasting beautifully with the dark curls. There is something haunting about the image, something that tugs at you and makes you see yourself from his eyes.

Like this, with him calling you exquisite, pearls adorning your face and hair, you can almost believe it.

“Do you know what I think of more, when I see these pearls?” Daemon chuckles. It’s a dark, masculine sound. You are unable to form a word. “Hm. Perhaps I should show you.”

He finishes pulling the necklace from you. Over your head and out they go. Suddenly able to speak, you find yourself at a loss for words.

Daemon kneels behind you. He meets your eyes in the mirror, again.

“I am jealous of the moon, and the sky, and this damn mirror even.” It sounds like nonsense. It should sound like nonsense, but somehow, it is disarming, this newfound honesty of his. The one where he stumbles over words in his eagerness, in his need to call you beautiful, to call you his. “Because you want to gaze at them. Your eyes should be only for me.”

He cradles your face in his palm, forcing you to keep eye contact with your reflection. His thumb brushes over your lips. You just stare.

“And even of the wine you drink, when you wet your lips.”

You kiss his thumb. Your eyes sting. This is quickly turning unbearable.

“Daemon… Please…”

“Oh, but your eyes.” He praises, sounding almost drunk. He begins to kiss a path down your collarbones and towards your breasts. “I love your eyes. They are maddening to me.”

He continues to kiss your skin, inhaling deeply. The closer he gets to your breasts, the hungrier he becomes. Daemon is gorging himself on you, biting and nipping at your bosom, sucking at your nipples until you cannot help the moans coming out from your mouth.

Liquid, molten pleasure, begins accumulating at the base of your spine. Warming up your body, making you sweat with the exertion of keeping still.

“You are so beautiful, I fear anyone will want to steal you away.” Daemon whispers, grabbing your hips in an almost bruising grip. “And I fear if I don’t hold tight, it will be my fault.”

You look at yourself. At the half lidded eyes, the softness of your chest. At the attitude of surrender, as your thighs part, and you feel him bury his nose on the roses of your mound. As he inhales, trying to memorize your touch, your smell, your sounds. As he decides to drink from you, making your face go slack, brows pinched together, eyes glassy and absent.

Beautiful, you think, as you reach your peak with a scream so loud you fear the rest of the Red Keep might have heard.

Daemon laughs, doing his best attempt to suck a bruise on your thigh.

“And you haven’t even seen what I plan on doing with the pearls.”

[sanjifucker42069]

OPLA!Sanji x Reader - Blowin'

Word Count: 4.6k

I cut down some of the less, y’know, important stuff (the plot lol)

Warnings: oral sex (m!receiving), fem!reader, awkward first times, awkward af, the reader is a dipshit. I’m ngl this isn’t one of those cute first time fics where virgin!reader is suddenly a sex goddess, you are legitimately an idiot. As usual, written with a plus size!reader in mind.

Sanji finds out you’re a virgin. You suck his dick. Congrats!

Sanji was going to fucking lose it. Out of all the possible scenarios Sanji never once considered Nami would take you out to a bar to pick up guys. He brooded as he nursed his drink, Zoro rolling his eyes at the display. Sanji just growled. Usopp looked between them.

"How about another round? 'Nother milk Lu? Hey Sanji, why don't you come with me? I saw some hot chicks up at the bar."

Sanji just shook his head brooding. He looked to where you stood with Nami, laughing at some guy's jokes. He felt stupid at how jealous he felt.

"Hey, Sanj, man. Nami isn't gonna reciprocate y'know?" Usopp offered lightheartedly. Zoro scoffed from next to him. 

"It's not about Nami for once."

---

When Sanji's eyes found you again he saw you alone with the same guy, nursing a drink. Now that Nami was gone he could see the atmosphere had changed, you didn't seem happy like before. He watched as the guy said something and you shrugged halfheartedly. The guy then proceeded to wrap his arm around you. Sanji had known you long enough to see how uncomfortable you looked. Anger flared in his chest. The final straw was seeing the guy trying to tug you out of the booth to leave. You looked so defeated, it hurt. He began stalking his way to your booth.

"C'mon sweetcheeks, let's leave this dump."

"I'm good thanks, I should get back to my friends."

"I already told you bitch, we're going. I didn't spend all this time fucking around to go home empty handed. You're lucky I even stayed once your hot friend left. I'm doing you a favour, so hurry the fuck up."

"No, I really don't want to." You began, the man snarled, grabbing your wrist.

"It wasn't a question. You owe me. I don't go for ugly, but a hole's a hole, and from the back you're probably passable."

You had tears in your eyes from embarrassment. This whole trip was a bad idea. You wish Nami would come back. As the man tugged on your wrist harder you heard that gorgeous voice ring out. You tried to hide your face so Sanji wouldn't see the tears in your eyes. That last thing you wanted was for the crew to think you're weak.

"That's no way to win hearts Sunshine. So uncouth, and frankly, disgusting behaviour."

"Who the fuck are you? How about you mind your own business?"

"And watch such a beautiful lady be treated that way?"

"Beautiful lady my ass. The only thing you can know for sure about girls like this is that their pretty pussy is untouched." The man barked out a laugh causing you to wince. He snaked his other arm to cup your breast over your dress. You saw something flash in Sanji's eyes. "And I know I'm gonna really enjoy these."  

You squirmed, before biting the man. He howled in pain, releasing his hold on you. You quickly made your escape, rushing to cling to Usopp and Luffy, crying. You felt pathetic. Embarrassed that all eyes were on you.

Sanji saw red. You blinked back tears as you called out to him. Sanji was protective of all of you, but he seemed especially so of you. You knew it was because he saw you as some kind of little sister. "It's okay Sanji. Really, let's just go home. Please."

"No." He fixed the drunk man with a freezing gaze. "You dare touch someone so out of your league? I asked you nicely to piss off, but now I'm going to fucking kill you."

Before you could react Sanji had kicked the man in the chest. You watched as he began ruthlessly kicking and stomping the man, muttering profanities and sentences you couldn't understand. With a final stomp he huffed. Zoro finally pried Sanji away. You saw Nami returning, fuming. If you weren't so traumatised by the night you would have laughed at how Zoro pried Nami away too, holding the two brawlers by the scruff as they fought against it, looking like wet cats.

You don't remember how you got home. You remember Usopp covering you in his coat and dragging you out of the bar. You remember apologising to Usopp, crying that you needed to go back. The last thing you remember was Luffy running to join you, scooping you up and starting the walk back to the Going Merry, you, falling asleep in his rubbery arms.

---

"Ah my dear, you're finally awake. I made you something to eat."

You smiled tightly at him, thanking him. The way you played with your food tugged at his heartstrings. You looked so mournful. He pulled up a chair, sitting backwards on it, gripping the backrest. 

"C'mon lovely, don't make me have to feed you myself." He winked. Your lips twitched upwards performatively. Sanji frowned. "Look (name) about last night-"

"I'm sorry."

Confusion. "What?"

You cringed inward. "I'm....I'm sorry I ruined everyone's night."

"You didn't ruin anyone's night, that good for nothing prick did. Don't understand why you'd even go for a guy like that to be honest." He added bitterly. You frowned.

"I wouldn't normally. Everything moved so fast. He seemed nice...It was too late before I realised it's because he wanted Nami." Silence. "Once Nami left, I, well, I didn't want to cause a scene."

"So, what? You were just going to let him take advantage of you?"

You jolted, shocked. "No! No, I- there was no way he was going to-” 

“(Name), love, I know you can be a bit naive but-”

Your voice was small. “He said so himself! He..." you trailed off. "He didn't 'go for ugly girls'. And besides…he was right."

Sanji frowned, angry at the world. How could anyone make you believe that you weren't beautiful? That you didn't deserve some guy trying to take advantage of you? He took a deep breath, steadying his resolve

“There's no such thing as an ugly girl (name), and if there was, I can assure you you're not one of them.”

“Not that.” Sanji took in how you winced, trying to make yourself seem smaller.

What?

Sanji felt the wind knocked out of him.

You're a virgin?" He asked, clearly shocked. You bristled with embarrassment.

"Well...yeah, but I understand how it works! It's not such a big deal, I mean...I've just, I've never had the chance."

"Have you ever...y'know, at all? Not even a handy?" You shook your head. He flushed, you were completely pure.

He felt slightly sick at how his perverted thoughts twisted that. He could be your first, ruin you for all other partners. He could be the one to take your innocence. His cock twitched at the thought. Shame flooded him. You were his friend, his, admittedly, very cute friend. He shouldn't be thinking about you this way. His mind was racing with all the obscene thoughts he'd ever had, the deviant things he dreamed of. He was disgusting. You were too innocent, he'd felt guilty before, but now he felt like he was defiling you just by thinking about you.

You took his silence as pity and pointedly looked away from him, taking a deep breath.

"It's not like I don't want to. I do. But, ugh, it's so silly...no one has ever shown any interest. I'm not exactly a goddess like Nami."

"Darling, I don't believe no one has ever shown interest." He offered a smile. Gods if you only knew how badly he ached for you. How hard you made him. Now wasn't the time for him to blow your friendship over him thinking with his dick. You were being vulnerable.

"I don't need your pity Sanji. It's okay. You don't have to give me the 'everyone's beautiful in their own way' speech. There's more to me than my lack of experience! I'm a good fighter! I have talents, I don't need to be pretty. Just, sometimes, it'd be nice.". 

This wouldn't do. He had to try to fix this. He took your small hands in his, trying not to lose his breath at how warm they felt. Swinging them lightly, he stared into your eyes.

“You are a beautiful girl, you deserve way better than some kind of bastard like that. Men are pigs (name), you shouldn't trust any of them."

"I trust you."

Sanji froze. You peaked up at him shyly. He looked conflicted, and that caused you to smile sadly, misinterpreting the look. You withdrew your hands, fiddling with them in your lap. "I didn't mean that you should take one for the team Ji, I just meant that, well, I trust you. I don't think you're a pig."

"You shouldn't trust me." He lowered his voice. You stared at him, clearly taken aback. "I'm just as bad."

"No, you-"

"No. I'm an absolute pig darling. You aren't that dense surely."

You frowned. "Sure you flirt a lot with other girls, but that's just you! It's charming, non-threatening. I don't see you acting like-"

"I flirt with you too!" He tried, clearly exasperated. You smiled.

"Exactly! You make cute comments to me, and call me cute things like darling, but you're just naturally flirty."

Sanji groaned. Your smile slowly faltered. Sanji screwed his eyes shut. "I'm not 'just naturally flirty'...I mean, I am, I suppose, but I'm actually trying to flirt with you. I thought you were just being polite, but are you really that dense?"

"I....you are?"

"Are you kidding me?!"

"But, I'm..." You gestured to yourself. "You're more friendly than flirty to me?" 

"You're too innocent, it's not like I could just waltz right up and tell you that I think you're hot, can I?" He bristled. 

You felt electricity surge down your spine. Hot? Sanji thought you were hot? Sanji? 

Sanji took your silence as disgust. "See! That's exactly why I couldn't tell you."

"You think I'm hot?" He nodded. Your grin spread, hurting your blushing cheeks. Your eyes sparkling. "You think I'M hot?!"

"Yes, okay!" He sounded almost angry.

"Sanji, you're gorgeous! I'm too awkward. Too fat. Too plain. I'm not a model or some kind of beauty. And you're telling me someone as handsome as you, thinks I'm attractive!? And I-"

You stopped, really thinking about what he said. "Innocent? I....well I suppose. I'm not that innocent though."

Sanji's nostrils flared. "Not that innocent? Please love! You prance around in those low-cut tops and shorts in front of everyone, thinking that they ain't gonna go ballistic? You're too trusting of men, thinking that we aren't all beasts inside."

You laughed, still riding the high of his praise. Sanji snarled, banging his fist on the kitchen table. "No! It's true. You think someone doesn't see the way your tits look and salivate? You don't think you would make anyone insane? You don't think I got so fucking hard when you told me you're a virgin?"

He froze, blood turning to ice, clearly regretting blurting out that last bit. You stared at him, eyes round with wonder. He avoided your gaze, cringing at what you said next.

"I...I make you hard?".

"I'm sorry (name), that was very ungentlemanly of me. I didn't mean to say that last part." 

"But you did." He felt warm hands prying his open and playing with his fingers. He flitted his eyes up to see your face red, staring at him with your eyes practically sparkling with mirth. "God, I've wanted you to fuck me for ages, and now you're telling me you've actually wanted to this whole time?"

Sanji stiffened, cock twitching. He ached painfully. He felt parched, throat burning. This had to be a joke. "You...what?"

"Yeah. Fuck. I, mean, the clothing was purposeful at first, I wanted you to notice me. I had no idea it was working though, haha!"

"WHAT!?"

"Yeah, I thought you knew? You never noticed I only wore those kinds of clothes when you were around? You never noticed how I tried to cling to you in the kitchen? I just assumed you knew and thought I was gross, so I pulled back." You laughed. "Did you seriously think that because I'm a virgin I can't think sexually?"

"But you've never-"

"You've never said anything raunchy to me like you do to other girls. I thought you saw me as a little sister. It'd be weird if someone you saw like family told you they want to suck your dick."

"Fuck." He hissed. 

"Oh this is too good! Have I been torturing you?" You laughed, running a hand up his arm. "You must be so frustrated."

"You have no idea." 

"I could help you." 

Sanji groaned. "You can't say things like that."

"Oh." You pulled back, back to being timid. Even if it was at his expense, Sanji felt the loss of your confident persona. Fuck he really was a masochist, wasn't he? "I, um, I'd need you to guide me. But if you did want help, I'd like to be the one."

"God, you have no idea what you're doing to me." He heard you giggle lightly. He opened his eyes to see you biting your lip, staring up at him through thick lashes, a blush adorning your chubby cheeks. He throbbed.

"You could show me? I promise I'll be gentle! Please Sanji? Can I pretty please touch your dick?"

Sanji felt like he was going to explode from how cute you were. 

"Fuck. Please."

You squealed in excitement, jumping up from the table, both his arms in hand. He wanted to laugh at how innocent you looked, but instead he felt a lump in his throat. You didn't notice, pulling the seated man into an awkward, crushing hug.

"C'mon! C'mon what are you waiting for? Let's go!" 

"Go where?" He laughed at your eagerness. "In case you haven't noticed darling, we aren't exactly alone."

The way you deflated was comical. What wasn't was the wicked glint that formed in your eyes. Sanji gulped, that was never a good sign. He watched as you quickly dashed out of the kitchen. Sanji looked around, confused. Minutes passed. He got up from the table, moving over to the kitchen island, hiding his lower half behind the counter, lest one of the crew wandered in. He sighed, willing his boner away. 

Bang!

The door flew open. Sanji jumped. There you stood frantically in the doorway. Your hair a mess, breathing heavy, and that wicked glint set on him. He watched as you closed the kitchen door, taking a chair and boarding the door. You grinned, stalking towards him.

No. There's no way.

"We aren't going to be disturbed." You were practically vibrating in excitement.

"What? No. Not in the kitchen. We. Eat. Here." Sanji hissed. You peeked up at him, lip pouting. 

"Please? I'll make sure there's no mess left." You pleaded. 

No mess? Sanji closed his eyes and groaned when he realised what you meant. You were going to be the death of him. When he opened his eyes you were in front of him, staring at him shyly. He startled.

"Can I kiss you? Or is that too far?"

Too far? He wanted to cry. You really had no idea what you were doing to him. He bent down. You grinned. He wrapped an arm around the back of your head, pulling you closer. You tipped your head up. He smiled softly before placing his lips on top of yours.

Your lips locked together like the last piece of a puzzle. You sighed, eyes flitting closed. You pushed further against him, trying desperately to pull him closer. He tasted like cigarettes but you didn't mind, an addictive taste for an addictive man. You wanted more of him. You kissed him feverishly, reluctantly pulling back for air. You stared at the taller man through lidded eyes. He gazed down at you lovingly, a blush high on his cheeks. His blue eyes studied your face closely. 

Sanji laughed as with both hands you pulled his face back for another kiss. His skin was hot, your hands now cold against his cheeks. You tasted sweet and he wanted to devour you so badly. You were too cute. He felt you pull him closer to you. You were kissing and sucking at his lips before you felt it. Sanji bit back a groan, feeling your hips brush against him. He felt pure embarrassment as he heard your breath hitch, pulling away. He opened his mouth to protest but was cut off by a groan as you experimentally pushed your hips against him harder.

"Oh my gods." He heard you whisper against him. He froze. "Oh my gods it's so-"

"We can stop if it's too much dar-LING!"

He squeaked as he felt both your hands rake down his chest, you humming contently as you kept yourself pressed against him. He felt overwhelmed at how eager you were. He'd never had someone so upfront in wanting to touch him. His cocked throbbed. You mewled lightly, causing another throb.

"Oh my god it moves?" You giggled. He cracked a smile back. You were so innocent.

Sanji had made one crucial mistake though. That was thinking that just because you were inexperienced, that meant you would be submissive. He felt you cage him against the countertop, the wood digging into his ass, your hands on him. It wasn't that he didn't like it, the dissonance was making him dizzy. He felt your hands find purchase on his waist. You breathed out a dreamy sigh.

"God your waist is so fucking tiny."

Sanji bristled with embarrassment. He tried to address it without upsetting you. "Love, that's not exactly what I want to hear."

You giggled. "I can't help it, it's so hot. You could kick my ass if you wanted, but holy fuck you're just letting me feel you up. Gods I've seen you fight, I've seen how thick your legs are, but fuck your waist is so little."

Sanji hissed. He'd never experienced anything like this before. Your hands migrated upwards, resting on his pecs. Your slow pace was driving him insane.

"Can I?" You gestured to his shirt.

"Fuck, love, I'd love to, but maybe when we have somewhere more private okay? Don't want to be too unclothed if someone tries to come in. Same with you okay? Don't want anyone to see something so gorgeous." He smiled at you. You nodded your head, practically buzzing at the idea of this happening again. He winked at you. "You could take off something else though."

Sanji was shocked and delighted at how quickly you dropped to your knees. You began playing with his belt, figuring out how the clasp worked. Sanji scrunched his eyes shut. Fuck, you were so eager! He never would’ve expected it to go like this. Despite your eagerness you were so gentle, as if you were afraid of touching him. He was going to prompt you, but instead you softly pulled his zipper down and began drawing the fabric down till it sat mid thigh.

Oh, fuck. There he was, huh?

You looked at his clothed cock, studying It like it was some kind of strange bug. You wanted to laugh at the comparison. Above you Sanji was flushed, embarrassed by your staring. You ran a finger over the bulge. He hissed, his dick jumping lightly. You couldn't help the giggle that bubbled out of your throat. 

"What?"

"It's so cute the way it jumps."

"Maybe this was a mistake."

"No no no! I promise I'll be good. Can I, um... do I?"

"Just...hah...do what you think is right. I'll...correct you."

Sanji let out an undignified squeak as he felt you lightly grab the clothed bulge. You massaged it, feeling what you could, watching with curiosity how the man above you writhed. Exploratively, you moved your hand further back, cupping his balls through the fabric. The friction of the fabric against bare skin was pure torture.

"Oh shit!" Sanji whined. You withdraw your hand like it burnt. "That's, god, that's really sensitive okay? You're killing me sweetheart."

"Sorry." You mumbled, placing a kiss to his bare thigh. The "strange bug" jumped again. You began peppering more kisses to his thigh. Once you reached the inside of his thigh you breathed deeply, he smelt musky, it made your mouth water. Experimentally, you licked the inside of his thigh. Sanji's thigh tensed. You licked upwards in long stripes until you reached the leg of his underwear. You gave a quick moment of hesitation before you blew air over the bulge. Sanji hissed. Smiling, you placed a kiss directly over the top of his bulge. 

"Did you just kiss my dick?"

"Mmhmm. Watch, I'll do it again." You placed an open mouth wet kiss over Sanji's clothed cock. The man above you threw his head back, whining softly. The fabric was dampened with a mix of your spit and something else. You saw how taut the fabric had become. You cooed. "That looks like it hurts." 

Sanji nodded. You looked up at him.

"Can I take them off?"

He shuddered. "Fuck. Please (name)."

With curiosity you began dragging the wet underwear down his hips, settling them at his mid thigh. His musky scent overpowered you, and you watched with fascination as Sanji's cock slapped against his stomach. Looking up at him you saw how tight his eyes were scrunched, knuckles gripping the countertop. You noticed how he shivered lightly at the exposure. Sanji's cock stood, large, imposing, and leaking. You breathed out a curse. It looked gorgeous, just like him, long and lithe. His happy trail led to a neat little patch of dark hair. You salivated. Eyes drawing to your prize, you winced at how red and angry the head looked.

Sanji thought he was going to kill you when he felt you tap his cockhead like a microphone. Instead he bucked his hips away, humiliation colouring his face. "Stop that! I know you don't know what you're doing, but please use your brain dearest." 

You mumbled an apology before rubbing your hands together, trying to warm them. He watched as you wrapped a hand around his dick before moaning lowly. You studied him, absolutely enraptured, as you gave a test pump. The man above you crumbled. 

"Do you always get this way?"

"No." He panted.

"Just for me?" You tried sultry, trying to muster up some quote from a smutty novel you once read. Sanji peeked one eye open before groaning.

"No." His voice was strained, breathing heavy. You tried pumping him, but the rhythm was sloppy. "N-no. You're...it's a lot right now. I'm not used to it being this slow…or clumsy."

"Do you like it?" You looked up at him with wide eyes.

"Unfortunately." He muttered. With a burst of pride you tried pumping him harder. Sanji squealed, grabbing your hand. "Fuck (name), I really need you to spit in your hand. Th-that's painful."

"Oh...sorry." You offered. Sanji watched as you perversely spit in your hand, wrapping the digits back around his cock. You tried setting a rhythm, it was sloppy, but you focused on giving him consistent squeezing pressure. Sanji moaned lowly at the squeezing, hips rocking. 

Soon you reached a steady rhythm. You watched with bated breath before you slowed down. Sanji began to whine from the loss, only to keen loudly as he felt your lips enclose his cockhead. He began spluttering, eyes rolled backwards. He'd take anything right now, fuck he wanted to cum so bad. He sucked in a breath.

"No teeth, okay love?" 

You laughed, the vibrations tickling him in the best way. He moaned, trying desperately to not fuck your face. His eyes were so tightly scrunched.

You slowly forced yourself further down his length, squeezing the base. Sanji swore. You froze, taking a deep breath through your nose. When he didn't stop you, you continued your devotion. 

"Ack!" You choked, throat burning. You felt Sanji's hand patting your head. You retreated off him, coughing.

"Darling don't take more than you can okay. We don't want you to choke now."

You gazed up at him, eyes wet and throat hoarse. "Let me try again!" 

Your raspy voice made Sanji quiver, but the way you looked up at him, absolutely wrecked, made him burn. As quickly as he noticed it, it ended, and you unceremoniously inhaled his cock. He could feel you try to smile. 

"Fuck!" His voice was high as you sucked hard, adding your tongue to flatten against the underside of his cock. "(Name)! Baby, fuck, I-"

"Hey why won't the door open?" Zoro's voice rang through the wood. Sanji stilled, holding your head. The two of you looked at each other frozen. Sanji tried clearing his throat. 

"If you keep making noise out there, I'm gonna explode, Mosshead!"

You snorted, trying hard to not laugh. 'Yeah you're gonna explode,' you inwardly snickered. 

"Whatever shitty waiter." 

Silence. Sanji looked down at you. "Darling, maybe we should stop. It's okay, we can try again another day." He froze at the frustrated look that overtook your features. "Fuck." He whispered.

You sucked harshly causing Sanji to bite his hand hard to avoid screaming. He felt you try swallowing, watched as tears pricked your eyes. You didn't slow down on your work, sucking harshly and hands wandering. You grabbed a fistful of his asscheek, other hand tracing circles on his inner thigh. You felt him tensing, quivering. His hand reached for your neck, trying to coax you off. He was so close.

"Oh god!" Sanji gasped. "Baby I'm gonna cum, you need to hop off-AH!" 

You sucked harder, milking the man through his orgasm. It was like music the way he spluttered and grabbed the back of your head, nails scratching your scalp. You felt hot, thick liquid painting your throat. It wasn't pleasant, but fuck his reactions were. Some dribbled out of the corner of your mouth and Sanji wiped it away with a thumb, a fucked out expression on his features. He pulled his softened cock out of your mouth, and watched, breathless as you swallowed his seed. You made a grimace afterwards causing the man to laugh.

"Was it okay?" You asked, shyness taking over you. 

"You're lucky I don't mind a bit of torture. It was good for a first try." He gave you that flirty grin and a wink. "I think you need more practice though."

You laughed, outstretching a hand so he could help you up. You tried stretching your legs, noting the numb pain in your knees. You wrapped your arms around his middle. "Was I that bad?"

Sanji pulled his underwear and pants back up, zipping his pants closed. He pulled you closer. "Nah, you're just something else entirely. Silly." Kiss. "Torturous." Kiss. "And I am smitten with you."

"We've wasted enough time, better get back to it." You smiled against his lips. 

"I'd love to pay you back."

"Later loverboy, we're gonna have the whole crew in here soon if we don't hurry."

"I'm so glad there's a later."

You winked, straightening your clothes and heading for the door. You stopped, turning to stare at the man.

"For you baby? Always. Oh, can you make souffle?"

"What? Why?"

"I told the guys we were making a souffle and needed the kitchen completely silent."

Sanji laughed. You definitely kept him on his toes.

-----------

I'm not going to lie, some of this is coloured by my first time hahaha! I am an incredibly awkward person, and yes I did also once tell a guy how cute I thought it was when dicks jump. He also told me I was fucked for that ha!

[nqueso-emergency]

Parable of the queerbaited BoB

A BoB was queerbaited by numerous popular fantasy TV series in the past. They were asking Tim Minear for help.

Soon a gorgeous woman in a firetruck came by and the woman shouted to the BoB, "My wife Karen and I are a lesbian couple, we're black too, it's rare in a procedural drama."

The BoB shouted back, "No, it's okay, you're already married. I'm looking for someone who realizes their sexuality later in life and tries to navigate that. (Plus I'm not attracted to you two enough.)"

So the firetruck went on.

Then an ambulance came by. The man in the ambulance shouted, "I'm a gay man who came out later in life. I went through a journey to build a life with my now blended family and my neurosurgeon husband."

To this the Bob said, "No thanks, Tim Minear is a Buddie warrior and I have faith. (Also you're a side character, you're too old and I'm not attracted to you either.)"

So the ambulance went on.

Then a helicopter came by and the pilot shouted down, "Grab Evan's hand! He's a main character and he likes me so much that he maimed his best friend then realized his bisexuality after I kissed him. It's the exact representation you're looking for!"

To this the BoB again replied, "SHUT YOUR MOUTH YOU UGLY OLD MAN! HOW DARE YOU CALL HIM EVAN, YOU'RE JUST LIKE HIS PARENTS WHO ARE DEVILS FROM HELL!! YOU'RE TURNED ON BY HIM TRYING TO FLIRT WITH YOU SO YOU'RE PROBABLY JUST LOOKING FOR SEX ANYWAY, YOU SEXUAL PREDETOR! EVERYTHING IS ABOUT SEX WITH YOU, YOU DISMISS HIS FEELINGS, IT WOULDN'T HAPPEN IF IT WAS WITH EDD---"

"kkshshshkshskshsh", so the pilot made some fake mouth static and flew away.

Soon the show continued not in the way expected, and the BoB was disappointed. They went to Facebook. They finally had the chance to talk to Tim Minear, at which point they accused, "I had faith in you but you queerbaited me! You let me down! Where is the representation? I don't understand why!"

To this Tim Minear replied, "I gave you Henren, Michae/David and BuckTommy, what more did you expect?"

God bless you, anon

[yelenasfloppyhand]

Spencer Reid x gn!reader

Summary: Spencer is feeling insecure about his glasses, good thing you are there to help him see his beauty.

Warnings: none?

You glance up, concerned, as you see your boyfriend squinting at the television in front of him. His face looks scrunched up uncomfortably as he tries to read the subtitles that he insists on having on every time he forces you to watch a documentary with him, mainly because he talks over the documentary so often that it would be practically impossible to follow without them. This is a bit unusual, which makes you wonder: what is bothering him? "Why're you squinting?"

He breaks his gaze from the screen and looks at you with a puzzled expression, the kind of look that a child would give a parent after receiving a scolding for misbehaving. "Umm... could you repeat that I didn't hear you?" He asks sheepishly.

That was the moment it clicked. Whenever Spencer wasn't wearing his glasses or contacts, he often exclaimed that he couldn't hear without his glasses on. Most people didn't understand, considering glasses aided sight - not hearing. However, to you it made perfect sense. Spencer often relied on lipreading to prevent any miscommunication. He feared it would lead to an accidental offence. "You aren't wearing your glasses" it came off as more of a soft accusation than an observation.

A delicate pout graces his plump lips as he glances bashfully at you before sighing. "They make me look ugly..." His tone is dejectful as he breaks eyecontact to stare at the soft tartan blanket on his lap.

You feel your eyes widen as a frown pulls at your lips, there are many adjectives you could use to describe Spencer: awkward, intelligent, sweet, loving, beautiful, thoughtful... never in a million years would the word ugly even cross your mind. He was truly gorgeous, his eyes were a light brown with flecks of gold near his pupils, his nose was button like with a small bump on the bridge, his lips were plump and pink, he had alluring crinkles at the corners of his eyes each time he smiled (which was frequently around you), his hair oh his silky hair that he often begged you to play with in order to help him fall asleep, it was soft and a light shade of brown that shined bronze in the sunlight. You could use a multitude of synonyms to describe how beautiful he is but never would you describe him as ugly.

"Spencer Walter Reid, I'm appalled! How dare you call yourself ugly?" Your anger simmers as you stare at him with a pointed look, utterly disgusted with his self-deprecation. "You're not ugly," you add, softening slightly, "And I think your glasses make you even hotter." His cheeks flush with color and he looks away, clearly embarrassed.

"If you'd let me, I'd kiss each and every part of your beautiful body, I love the small freckle on your forehead, and your toothy grin, I love the way your glasses sit on you're gorgeous nose" you continue, you've been with him since you were both in your 20s and despite him now being 30 he still looked just as beautiful as ever.

"My confidence always takes a hit with my glasses on. The frames make me feel like an even bigger nerd than usual." His gorgeous gold eyes usually wore contact lenses, a solution to his glasses related insecurity. But recently, he developed a slight allergy to the contact lens solution he uses meaning he was now forced to wear his glasses. The whole situation leaves him feeling like more of a wounded puppy.

You could cry at his self deprication. You wished you could see him the way you see him. You immediately have a great idea. You stand from your spot next to him on the couch before rushing away, leaving him confused and slightly curious.

You return wearing his glasses, admittedly you can't see much considering how strong his prescription is, it distorts your vision an uncomfortable amount. But you watch as his expression changed to utter disorientation as he trys to understand what you're doing. "Do you think I look ugly?"

You watch as he is taken aback by your question, he cannot fathom ever finding you anything other than breathtaking. His eyebrows furrow as he answers quickly. "No, you're absolutely breathtaking as always." You can't help the grin that pulls at your lips at his compliment.

"So you don't think these glasses make me ugly, don't they change how I look? Do they make me unappealing to gaze at?" You ask confidently, praying to whoever is listening that you can help him see himself in a more positive light.

"How can I ever see you as anything other than beautiful?" He asks with confusion. He frowns before continuing. "Nothing could ever change how I view you, you're the sun in my solar system." You can feel yourself metaphorically melt at his words, he was always sweet with his complments, its what made you fall for him.

"You've just proved my point pretty boy." You smile before walking over to him and placing his glasses on his face, you can see the slight relief in his eyes when his vision focuses. "Hey." You grin and wave slightly at him. "There's my love. I promise you that just because you wear glasses doesn't mean you're ugly, you aren't ugly and you know why?" You watch with amusement and adoration as his eye brows furrow in confusion as he waits for you to answer your own question. "Because despite your gorgeous face, it's your heart I feel for, and as long as you're heart stays just as sweet and lovable as always I will always find you beautiful."

You realise how clichet and corny it sounds the second the words leave your mouth but you can't help but find the truth in them. He is gorgeous and not even his glasses could change his beauty. After all his nickname was 'pretty boy' for a reason.

Note: I'm so sorry if this was badly written it's like midnight and I'm sleepy, this was inspired when I remembered that mgg wore glasses as Spencer in season 2 because he developed an allergy to his contact lens solution (thank god that happened if not we would've never been blessed with glasses reid). Also you can request stories using the request box in my bio :)

[paegei]

PROPOSALS - 95ers

how the 95 liners would propose (fem!reader)

warnings: brief mention of past sex, use of y/n (once), mainly female centric compliments, but can be read with gender neutral reader in mind.

a/n: first attempt at writing fluff,,, why is it so much harder to write than smut ??

seungcheol:

traditional man. takes you to an expensive restaurant, and buys you the best wine you've ever tasted. your friends and family are scattered secretly around the nearby tables, ready to witness / capture the beautiful moment.

today was a very special day. yours and seungcheol's five year anniversary. the fact you had been with him for only five years shocks you, as you can't remember your life before him.

he had been able to get a week off from his crazy schedule, which resulted in the two of you hoping on a plane to head to Paris.

tonight, the night of your anniversary, cheol had purchased a particular dress for you to wear, one that compliments his outfit will, and took you to one of the top rated restaurants near your hotel.

the night started out as it usually would, nothing out of the ordinary. you hadn't gotten tipsy, but the wine had given you a fuzzy feeling in your head, making you much more giggly, to your lovers pleasure.

around about an hour had passed, the two of you now sharing a slice of chocolate cake. seungcheol was staring at you the way he always does, eyes full of nothing but love and admiration. the had been a break in the conversation, cheol and you simply bathing in each others presence.

you take a quick glance around the room, until a noise draws your attention back to your soulmate.

he was now standing, spoon and glass in hand, smirking at you.

"sorry to interrupt everyones lovely dinner, but i have a very special announcement to make." he placed the items down, before turning to address the other patrons.

"today is me and my gorgeous girlfriends five year anniversary !"

the room had erupted into applause.

"but thats not the announcement i wanted to make."

he turns back to you, chuckling slightly at your confused face. god, could you get any cuter ?

"y/n. my darling. my love. five years have passed since i've been able to call you mine. five years of my life spent holding you in my arms. i never want that to end."

he drops on one knee, chuckling at the gasp you let out. he pulls the ring out, and as he does, the first tear rolls down your cheek.

"will you do me the honor, and spent the rest of your life in my arms ?" he is peering up at you, a look of confidence that you know he is using to mask his nerves.

you immediately hop to the ground with him, nodding silently while you sob. the flash of cameras all around you, as well as many cheers of congradulations.

as the two of you stand, you see you are surrounded by your closest loved ones. what a perfect way to end a perfect night.

jeonghan:

private beach at sunset. proposes in a gazebo while you look over at the sea. no doubt in my mind he writes "marry me" in the sand. chuckles at your tears even though he definitely is ugly crying too. has a picnic prepared afterwards.

one thing about you and jeonghan's relationship; you were homebodies. the two of you rarely felt the need to go out and about to feel a connection, majority of the time choosing to stay huddle up and nap together.

today, however, was one of those rare dares where hannie would drag you out of bed for a date. although you tried your hardest to convince him to just do what you usually do for dates (read: sleep.), here you were, in a flowery sundress, walking towards yours and jeonghan's "secret" spot.

the spot in question was a little opening on the beach, far away enough for what most people consider to be a walk. the two of you had found it early on in your relationship, and tested it's level of privacy with some good ol' sex.

you could tell something was off with him today. he seemed... cautious ? hannie ? cautious ? yeah right. he was extra fidgety, and kept checking his appearance before your trek. he was rushing to leave the house too.

turning the corner to find the place the two of you were very familiar with, there was so many unfamiliar things catching your eye. fairy lights had been scattered around, dangling down from the roof of the gazebo. candles had been placed neatly around the edges. a picnic blanket had been laid down on the floor, with a bouquet of flowers resting atop it.

you turned around, ready to ask jeonghan what was going on, when you spotted him on one knee, a nervous smile on his lips as he gazed up at you. you gasped, knees buckling, and jeonghan instinctively held his hand out to ground you.

he giggled at your shocked face. "hey love"

"han i swear to god-" your words were cut off by a sob, your breath hitching.

"'ts okay love. don't cry." his hand holding yours began to rub back and forth on the back of your palm.

"knowing you, being with you, loving you. it has been a dream come true for me. i never thought i would be able to experience the love people craved. i was okay with that thought. until i met you. i want to be with you for the rest of my days... i want to grow old with you. will you let me ?"

without saying anything, you jumped into his arms, sobbing into his shoulder while nodding. you could feel his own tears beginning to hit your skin. you pulled back, looking into his eyes, full of nothing but love and admiration. you were sure yours were conveying the same emotion.

your lips met in a passionate kiss, one the two of you would deem to be the best one you had shared, until your wedding day.

joshua:

balcony while on vacation. planned on asking you during dinner but chickened out. you were slow dancing while it rained, before his love for you overtook his brain, making him spontaneously propose then and there.

the night had been perfect. you see yourself thinking that thought every day that you spend in joshua's arms. but it's true. he brightens up every day of your life.

you had been worried at first. he seemed as though he had something on your mind during dinner. you were petrified you had done something to upset you, but he had assured you it had just been a long week. after his reassurance, the rest of the meal passed as usual, him returning to his charming self.

now, the two of you were found on the balcony of your hotel suite. despite the freezing temperatures the rain had caused, neither of you could find it in yourself to care. you were holding onto each other tightly, your head buried in josh's chest, as his chin rests atop your head. even though there was no music to be heard, the two of you continued your gentle swaying, the rhythm of the rain being the tempo you moved to. the silence was calming.

you felt his chin move from your head, before he pushed you back slightly, just enough to look down into your eyes. his eyes were sparkling, glistening, as per usual, but you soon noticed something else swimming in them. he had tears resting on his lash line, ready to fall at any moment.

concerned you reached up to cradle his face, asking what had bothered him.

"i just love you so much. more than you could ever imagine."

you open your mouth to return the sentiment, but his movement stops you. he pulls something out from his pants pocket, before dropping to one knee. he attempts to say the words he had practiced many times before, but the tightness of his throat stops him.

"i- i love you, y/n, so so much. will... will you marry-"

before he can finish his sentence, your lips crash onto his, the two of you silently sobbing into each others mouths. he breaks off the kiss with a chuckle.

"is that a yes ?" god, his smile could blind you.

"yes, you idiot" yet there was no malice found in your words. his hand comes up to you cheek, to steer you into another passion-filled kiss.

not proof-read ! lmk if there's any mistakes (づ￣ 3￣)づ

[bitter-me]

Alice in Wonderland

----------

"Once upon a time...."

----------

The first Alice walked through the land of Teyvat. Bravely with a sword in her hand, she sliced everything and anything that dared crossed her, leaving chaos in her red bloody path. She was feared and respected by all.

The people will remember her wrath, her cruel smile, her self-centered attitude, and most importantly the sword on her hand.

Who could ever forget someone like that? Someone who sparks fear on others? The very mention of her name brought the high and mighty shaking on their knees. Everyone would always try their absolute best to stay on her good side or else... her sword would be the last thing you'll see. They would praise her, give her offerings and gifts, the lengths of what they would do to stay on her good side...

Through her might and unyielding wrath, she traveled far through her journey. But soon... her wrong doings came right back at her..

She stray too far and lost her way. Giving in to all her sins. Much like the gruesome path that she forged with her hands. Still....

Her life remains a mystery till this very day.

.

.

.

.

.

The second Alice was a tame and tender gentleman.

He helped those in need, he never lost his temper, he never talked bad about others, he's incredibly patient; a kind soul.

Such an enormous contrast with the first Alice.

The people would remember his kindness, his merciful acts, his pacifist route. In return for his deeds they would give him something in return despite how the man seemed uncertain of the gifts, claiming that "there's no need for such things."

What a kind soul... he can't even take a gift without feeling conflicted and guilty...

But of course.... you can't be kind to all.... sometimes kindness and mercy isn't the option...

Madness took ahold of him, shoot him dead to the ground. Blood stained the roses to a bright and somber red. Once loved and enjoyed by all, the man was left for dead

.

.

.

.

.

The third Alice was a lovely girl.

Beautiful, the girl was born into a life so grand. She charmed all the people to her beck and call. How could they resist such a charming young lady? Her smile is as bright as the sun, and her beauty rivals those of a goddess.

Through her charms she created a kingdom, an empire that would rise above them all! This Alice was then crowned turned into a Queen. Ruling all the people there... she lost herself in a crazy dream..

Previously a carefree girl, suddenly has the weight of a whole kingdom on her shoulders.. she must have gone insane by the sudden shift in power and responsibilities. Suddenly she's been made all aware of the things that didn't crossed her mind since the beginning. So afraid of death, the girl was mindless and warped.

The people would remember her beauty and charm.

Once a gorgeous ruler, now she's just an ugly corpse.

.

.

.

.

.

"So... what do you think?"

"...."

"What's with the silence, Alice?"

The man studied the other's expression before letting out a chuckle as he understood what he's thinking at that very moment. It was rather obvious. "Maybe I should start the next one~?"

"The fourth Alice was a pair of siblings who are twins. Straying into Teyvat—" "Shut up."

The man stopped as he glanced back at the man who stopped him with his story. "Oh? You don't want your story to be told? Your name echoes in their tales and songs?"

"You're telling a story of the past... this is not the past.. I—we—"

"Oh ho ho! Don't get ahead of yourself there, Alice~ You've fallen into this wonderland called Teyvat for how long now? 500 years? And now you're saying that? Don't make me laugh!"

"You two are staying here."

"Until we the Heavenly Principle say so."

"Until I say so."

----------

M. Reader as the Creator

.

.

.

.

.

"Now... how will your story end, Alice~?"

----------

[eris-snow]

hey, i just discovered your account and me love your writing! Can i please request, what Deku, Bakugo and Shoto would be like with a chubby gf! ^^

Deku:

Oh, he’d kiss your cheeks over and over again, telling you just how beautiful you are.

I think that just like how you would trace his scars and tell him that’s it badass, he’d look at you and tell you that you look absolutely beautiful

He’d never be afraid to hold your hand in public, and to claim you as his

Absolutely unfazed by anything and just so happy to have you as his

If you tell him that you’re insecure about your image, he’d be the best listener and comfort person and hang on every word you say

There are no words for how you make him feel, insufficient synonyms in the dictionary for how uniquely wonderful you are in his eyes.

Bakugou:

Good luck trying to even think about not being good enough because Bakugou is very good at distracting you.

Definitely a cheek pincher.

You want him to stop? Yeah, haha good luck. I can imagine him pinching them as you try to push him away half-heartedly, and him going “Shut up, Y/n. Y’look fucking cute.”

He’d go ballistic if anyone dared to insult your appearance.

Dating Katsuki Bakugou, anyone would pale in comparison to him, and you would feel the heat of that

There are better options. I could do better, the whispers would say.

And because Bakugou is so observant, he’d call them out on it

“Fuck off! This is my girl, my life, and don’t you decide jackshit about me. She’s sweet, she’s wonderful, and she’s beautiful. And you? All of you?” He scoffs, “I never knew ugly until I looked it in the face.”

Shoto:

Standing next to this guy is like becoming the lighting rod to all the scrutinising fan girls in Japan.

It makes you want to run and hide sometimes, but Shoto’s always right there to pick you back up

There are no words you could use to describe how confused you felt when Shoto walks up to you one day and bluntly blurts “Be my girlfriend.”

Shoto doesn’t understand it when you say you feel insecure

You’re gorgeous in his eyes, so utterly pretty that he swoons.

Frankly, he doesn’t care about looks all that much, and instead comments on how awesome your personality is

It isn’t about looks to him, because even in a million other lives, he’d still pick you.

--

Author’s note: So I understand I am MONTHS late to actually finishing requests but I want to actually write them properly because I love each and every request I receive! Whoever wrote this, I am beyond sorry that this came out so late, but thank you for sending this in! Just know that no matter how insecure you feel or how unhappy you are with your self-image, you’re beautiful inside out 💕💕

[azsazz]

Coal Lined Lens

Modern!Azriel x Reader

Summary: You’re Azriel’s muse.

Warnings: Mentions of insomnia.

Word Count: 2,183

Notes: Living for this.

_________________________________________

You look as beautiful as you always do.

Lying on his bed in nothing but your skin, he wishes the evidence of last night still marked your body, but like a gentleman he’d helped you clean up before tucking you in close to his warm chest, where you fit like puzzle pieces, right where you always belonged.

He’d watched you all night, unable to sleep with his everything in his arms, so gorgeous and sated. It wasn’t even fair to all of the other girls, your beauty. You truly were one of a kind, and you were all his.

Creative, was what he called it, insomniac others called him. But he wouldn’t dare sleep a wink when you were there to draw his attention. Much like you are now, sleeping prettily, the sun cascading across your body from the light colored curtains like a blanket of gold, making your eyelashes shine in the morning light and casting shadows across the rest of you in the most interesting way…

Azriel slips out from his bed, silent as a mouse. He searches his room for a notebook and quickly, before the sun moves too much, jarring the flawless picture you paint in the early hours of the new day. 

He has minutes to get this down. If that.

He finds the sketchbook shoved between two others, one for his figure drawing class and the other for the graffiti he’s trying to teach himself because Rhysand and Cassian want to start working full scale instead of drawing concepts in their notebooks.

They have their tag finalized after filling two sketchbooks with ideas. Three mountain peaks with three matching stars. Rhysand, Cassian, and him: the mountains with their adorning stars, Feyre, Nesta, and (Y/N). Their beacons of happiness that brighten even their darkest nights.

The sketchbook’s cover is worn with love, the spine cracked because of how much he’s used it. The corners of the hardcover book are bent inwards, even though he tries to take the best care of it he can, as the contents are precious.

He snags a kneaded eraser, blackened with use. There’s shards of charcoal strewn about his desk, pushed to the sides because you’d tried to clear a space so that you could work on that paper that was due in the upcoming weeks.

There had been so much of the sooty chalk that it had turned the entirety of your forearm black. Even though you complained Azriel’s heart had picked up double, the pounding of it was almost painful because of how you looked with the essence of his art, of him, on you.

His fingers had twitched. Either to draw you or to take you straight to bed he couldn’t decide.

You should’ve been used to it by now. The black fingerprints you’d find on your clothes, on your skin were reminders of him in the best way. You could imagine Azriel with a pencil clenched between his teeth, charcoal in hand as he drew messy lines that would somehow turn into an incredible piece of work. 

He didn’t even have to try. His strokes were so sure, so confident that it made your thighs clench together tightly. He had that thing about him, covered in tattoos and never smiled at anyone except for you, but in reality he was quiet and docile. He’d do anything you asked.

Azriel plants himself on the stupid bean bag chair that Cassian had gotten him for his birthday. Something he swore he’d never use, he didn’t want, but his friend had only grinned, unbothered by Azriel’s unimpressed response. He was used to it by now and loved him for it anyway. He had let Azriel know that it would be his special chair that he’d sit in when he came over.

Azriel couldn’t throw it away, no matter how ugly the thing was.

But it’s comfortable, and that’s something he would never admit to Cassian.

He tucks his legs under him, scrambling through the book to a fresh page. It’s filled with drawings of you. Images from your first date when he’d memorized exactly how you looked when he’d made you laugh for the first time. He skips past the page with the drawing of tears running down your face, a side profile from when you’d forced him to watch that movie that always made you cry. He still didn’t understand why it was your favorite if it made you upset.

There’s a sketch of you grinning wildly, eyes glossy from the night out you’d spent with him and his friends. You’d forced him into a selfie, but he hadn’t drawn himself. This book is all you, all for him. 

It’s fascinating, his infatuation with you. Some pages hold multiple, smaller drawings, while others are portraits that seem to fall off of the edges of the page. 

Each one is both different and the same. Lazy, languid strokes. Harsh lines when he’s rushing, trying to get something down quickly before you move or he forgets. Loose sketches from moments he wants to draw but doesn’t have the heart to. Like when you’d had your first fight. The utter devastation on your face isn’t one he’d ever forget, never wants to see again. His thumb swipes over the lines of the face that’s barely there, like if he does it enough it’ll erase that crease between your eyebrows, or separate your lashes from how they’d clumped together with tears.

The smooth cream paper he turns to is fresh on both sides and the blankness should calm him, make his aching eyes fall shut so he can get a little bit of rest before you wake up, but his mind is racing with a thousand different images he has yet to add to the rapidly filling book.

He doesn’t dare look over to where there’s two more exactly like this hidden in the bottom desk of his drawer, also filled with artworks of you.

Azriel takes a deep breath, lets himself bask in the picture of you again, sheet pulled down, just barely covering your sex. He hadn’t been so fortunate that you kicked off the thin sheet while you slept. Maybe next time.

He’s quick to get your shape. Your face, a quick little circle for your cheek where it’s pressed into the pillow. A line marking the bed. A box for the window so he can draw the rays of sun washing over you. Maybe he’ll add a halo to your messy hair.

The curve of your body is drawn in such a fluid motion he doesn’t even have to look up. He memorized that a long time ago with his blackened fingertips, and subsequently, his mouth. It spans across both pages. He needs it to fill both this time. One wouldn’t be enough to capture the beauty of this morning, though he might have five other sketches of you sleeping throughout his books. This one is different. He always tells himself that.

He doesn’t even have to think, years of practice and admiring you have trained him for just this. Azriel draws the swell of your breasts, your hand, relaxed at your hip, just getting the general shapes of you down before you shift. Realize that he’s missing from next to you.

There’s two quick drags of his chalk and there are your eyelids. His hand is moving on its own, he does nothing to control it. He almost doesn’t draw the lines of the sheet, instead there’s a fleeting moment in his exhausted brain where he thinks about drawing that sweet little cunt of yours but it’s gone in a flash, draping the bending lines across your hips before filling them with color. He uses his eraser to make the highlights and smudges the lines with his finger until they’re buttery smooth.

Azriel hates his hands. Hates every pink little scar of marred flesh on them. Hates that you say that you like them and when you press kisses to them because he feels like you’re lying. No one could ever love them. How could they? 

He, however, loves the way his preferred medium sticks to his skin. The onyx dust coats his hands and covers the blemishes adorning his hands. He loves it because he can’t see the tainted flesh and you won’t press your lips to the dirtiest part of him, the part that makes people stare and ask questions.

He shuts it down before he can think too much about it, tracing the lines of your fingers, adding in the finer details now that he has the base. His mind always tends to wander through the self hatred shadows coloring the corners of his brain dark when he’s tired. Which seems like always.

He studies the way the light highlights certain areas of your body and hides the others, filling in the paper with the thick stick of charcoal in his hands. The eraser is in the other, ready to really pull out those highlights from the chunk of black he’s just colored in.

Occasionally he blows the soot off of the page. It lifts, swirling around in the rays of the morning sun and he’s distracted by how pleasing it looks. Reminds him of the whorls of swirling black ink across his own shoulders.

Scrubbing the chalk powder into the grains of the paper. His hands are a mess. Kneading his eraser into a point so he can carve out your nipples peaked from the chilly air. The eraser is filled with the dark powder he reminds himself to get a new one today. He looks back up at you. Maybe he’ll ask Rhys to steal one for him while he’s working at the art shop.

It’s a shame that you haven’t woken up yet. He’s done with his picture and he doesn’t know what to do, what to draw because you haven’t shifted in your sleep. He thinks about climbing into the bed behind you because every blink is like there’s sand in his eyes.

He knows that he needs to sleep. Knows that there’s dark circles around his eyes and that his skin is getting that sickly look that his mother used to tell him about when he was in high school and stayed up all night studying anatomy on the internet.

Instead he pulls the chair closer to the bed. He could move behind you and draw your back, but he thinks better of it, wanting to sketch the more intimate parts of you like your face or where the crook of your arm is barely covering the curve of your breast.

He focuses on one thing at a time. Your hand. Specifically the fourth finger of your left, where he’s tempted to draw that ring he saw the other day in that display window in town. He’d stood there for so long staring at it that the security guard had come outside and told him to scram. 

He draws that breast and the love bite he’d left on it last night. Chalks up that scar on your shoulder that you got from when one of the neighbor kids had thrown a dart at you at a barbecue and it stuck. The curves of your ear and the piercings shoved into them. Sketches the column of your throat, also mottled with marks from his mouth. It’s the weekend so he’s allowed.

The page fills quickly and with the rest he draws thick twisting lines that remind him of the shadows he sees sometimes when he’s so deprived of sleep he starts seeing things. It’s the ones he’d had inked on him permanently, a reminder of the dark side of him, the side that he didn’t ever think anyone could love, or show him how to.

Azriel looks at you again. Watches you for even longer, hand frozen on the page. He’s staring again but he knows that you don’t mind because you’d caught him before, when he didn’t even know your name but saw you sitting down the row from him in some class he couldn’t give a shit about. You’d noticed and you had smiled when anyone else would’ve looked away from the brooding art student with dirty hands.

For the first time, instead of ducking his head to pull out his sketchbook, he’d smiled back.

Your body comes alive like a work of art. Long, even breaths turn rutty, your pretty colored eyes moving behind your eyelids as your brows twitch at the incoming light pooling across your face. He should’ve pulled the heavy curtain shut so the room would stay dark, is what you’ll probably say when you’re fully awake. Right after you ask if he’s slept.

The sigh you let out is his favorite song. All of the noises you make are. You shift, searching for him behind you, eyes fluttering open when you realize that his body is not beside yours.

They immediately meet his own, sharpening to focus on him before you melt back into the bed.

And he wants to draw you all over again.

[powercloud]

Gojo could feel the tips of his finger tingle, the sole of his feet itching to move. His mind reels, a thousand thoughts running that it makes his stomach sick. Gojo stands, sits, then stands again until he couldn’t take it anymore. The only thing that grounds him is the sound of your voice, though its the sole reason he’s going insane in the first place.

Gojo has his phone tucked between his cheek and his shoulder, his hand on his hip while the other pinches the bridge of his nose. You’re on the other side, talking about shirt sizes, about which would fit best. And the fact you’re so casual about the whole ordeal despite the betrayal you did him dirty with not even a few days ago pisses him off.

You chose Geto’s side over his. To Gojo that is the highest degree of hurt you could ever inflict on him. And you dared call him dramatic the first minutes of the call!

“I’m gonna go with large,” you said, Gojo can hear shuffling on your end. “I feel like the pair would go well with Suguru too. Don’t you think?”

Gojo’s nose flares, if this was a cartoon he would have steam blowing out of his ears. “I don’t care! And I can’t even see what shirt you’re talking about, you weirdo. Why’d you call me?”

“Cause I missed you. What, I can’t?” Gojo bites down his lower lip, as if it could help calm down the sudden skip of his heartbeat. You have a way with making his emotions go on tangents. “Besides, I haven’t spoken to you in days since I left Tokyo for this mission. How are you doing?”

Gojo doesn’t hold back from telling his truth. “Absolutely horrible, what did you expect? You and Shoko took Suguru’s side, two of my bestest friends not even seeing my side of the story! I was assigned to go on an island with Suguru for a mission, can you imagine how awkward that was for me. Three whole days we were there and we’ve not spoken a word to each other.”

You scoff on the microphone, Gojo can almost sense you rolling your pretty eyes at him. “You did say some mean things to him, Satoru.” He doesn’t like how soft you say his name, that it almost makes him want to do whatever you tell him to. “And what you did was wrong. You have to be the one to apologize to him.” But never that.

“He said mean things to me, too,” Gojo defends. “He called me inconsiderate. I’m plenty considerate!”

“Someone considerate wouldn’t put Inoue Waka as his wallpaper when he has a gorgeous girlfriend who already feels inferior,” You sigh, defeatedly and Gojo knows he’s lost. A pause passes, giving you two both time to breathe. Gojo knows deep in his messed up head you were right. That Geto and Shoko were right. He’s just...he doesn’t know. His ego’s too big to admit he’s wrong, he’s so used to being right. To being on top of everything, he is above everything. He’s still young and learning and forever grateful you’re in his life to call him out on his bullshit, like now.

“Apologize, Satoru,” you said, nearly sounding desperate, tired. “So when I come home I’ll give you the biggest smooch on the cheek and gift you this ugly large shirt as souvenir.” Gojo chuckles at that, agreeing with you. A smile breaking out of his face, the lines of worry disappearing from his forehead.

"Fine, fine. I will," Gojo acquiesces finally.

"Hm, good." You then bless him with a low hearty laugh.

After another beat passes, Gojo tells another truth. “She broke up with me, you know.”

“I– she did?” You don't seem fazed at the sudden shift, if anything you've come to welcome any shift when it came to him.

“Yeah, I kinda deserve it anyway. That was a dick move.”

“Oh, Satoru.” You make no point debunking what he said last, and in it’s own twisted way Gojo knows its for the best. “When did she?”

“Hours after you left,” Gojo said, sitting down now, his head buried in his hand. “Its a long time coming, honestly.”

“How do you mean?”

“It never felt right,” He said. Because she’s not you, he thinks.

“Never felt right?”

“Yeah.” I’m in love with you.

“Hm, I see.” Gojo can feel the sorry dripping from your tone. There was really no need for you to feel anything like that at all. Gojo only felt bad for a day after the break up, then felt more sorry for the fact it only took that much time and he must be such an asshole for being that way and yet... “Don’t you worry, Satoru. I’m sure you’ll find what you’re looking for next time.”

“When you get here.”

“What?”

“I mean, when do you get here?”

“Oh! Uh, my flights later tonight. I’ll be there in the morning.” Gojo doesn’t say anything after that. And for awhile, what he can hear from your end is another person with an accent and you conversing with them in English. You’re probably paying for the stuff you bought. Gojo waits patiently.

When it’s back to faint sounds of your shoes clicking on floors, Gojo asks. “Where are you anyway?”

“In some thrift shop a few blocks from where I’m stationed,” You answer, then quickly add with, "about time you wear things not designer." Because you know he's going to take offense. And he does.

"I can't believe this."

"Listen, this one's—"

"A thrifted shirt? Seriously, I can't—"

"It compliments your eyes! It would look so good on you, trust me."

...

"Well, if you say so. At least tell me it's not the cheapest thing in the store."

"Don't be a pompous jerk, Satoru. You're gonna accept what I give you."

[theshinazugawaslut]

Who are your favourite upper-ranks in order?

Why?

/ :)

𝑹𝑨𝑵𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑲𝑵𝒀 𝑫𝑬𝑴𝑶𝑵𝑺

1 - 𝘎𝘺𝘶𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘰

One of the best brothers.

Genuinely such a heartbreaking character.

Him and Daki's yin and yang symbolism is so gorgeous.

He's the only demon in the entire show that FELT LIKE A DEMON, and he's the only demon that when watching the show I felt like 'woah, holy shit now that's what you call a demon'.

From design, story, voice, and blood demon art, Gyutaro is an exceptional demon despite his very human side.

I also love his parallels with Uzui.

2 - 𝘒𝘰𝘬𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘣𝘰

What a fucking character

I dare say one of the best written in KNY

He had such complex emotions towards Yoriichi — love and hatred.

What I liked about how the author showed it was that Kokushibo remembers simply giving a flute to Yoriichi (like an afterthought) but Yoriichi remembers Michikatsu saying with a bruised face (after being hit by their father for talking to Yoriichi) that 'blow this when you need help, nii-chan will come'.

So we see that Kokushibo always saw himself as inherently evil and doesn't remember the good parts of himself whereas Yoriichi describes his brother as "a kind boy" despite the fact Kokushibi became a demon.

"Yoriichi, why was I even born?"

Like, hello??? I'm going to cry???

3 - 𝘈𝘬𝘢𝘻𝘢

What a heartbreaking guy

I don't like Akaza as much as I like Hakuji if that makes sense.

His human backstory was SO upsetting and I bawled my eyes out.

"At the end of the day, it's nothing more than a pathetic, comical story" whilst its the panel of him holding Koyuki and sobbing?

His entire symbolism is gorgeous.

I do think he's kinda ugly though

BUT BRO RESPECTS WOMAN >>>>

4 - 𝘋𝘢𝘬𝘪

She's so pretty

I love her oiran guise, the entire way she carried herself and she was such a cold villain.

Though I did enjoy how she was a bratty child in reality when paired with her brother.

5 - 𝘋𝘰𝘶𝘮𝘢

Icl I hate this mf for killing Kotaha but he was kinda funny for killing Kanae.

I just hate his voice tbh, I hate playful villains, it's such an overused concept.

BUT HIS BACKSTORY MAKES SO MUCH SENSE AND HE'S KINDA FUNNY???

His eyes scare me

I don't like blondes unless they're Bakugo

6 - 𝘎𝘺𝘰𝘬𝘬𝘰

Bro's kinda fine?

Like, he's very wasted potential.

But he also needs to dick me up.

7 - 𝘏𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘶

The only good thing about this guy was his clones

Specifically Aizetsu and Karaku (blue and green one)

Also I could write so many fics about the clones going at it with reader

Hantengu ugly af though with that big ass pimple on his damned head?

[confused-wanderer]

Soap desperately wished Simon would put the mask on again.

Words he never thought he’d say out loud.

But the man was an angel incarnate. The angel of death, and how was he so fucking perfect?? Who the fuck gave him permission to just be more gorgeous than the Gods themselves??

And his scars, bloody hell his scars.. they made everything stand out about him. The curve of his lips, the tiny dip on his nose.. the way it traced and stretched above his muscles was so addictive all Johnny wanted to do all day was explore and kiss every single one of them.

Which was becoming a problem.

It was taking every ounce of willpower for him to not keep staring at Ghost and trying to catch a glimpse of Simon. And worse, everytime he was lost in thoughts his hands would sketch outlines of the man’s face, and thank god Soap stopped there.

“Are you ugly under there sir?”

Soap desperately wished to go back in time and beat the ever loving shit out of himself for saying that. The universe was probably enjoying watching him suffer right now wasn’t it?

“Soap.”

The scots’ eyes snapped up to his lieutenant.

“You put on the mask.”

He could see Ghost tense at the question, before ignoring it.

But then the mask was on more times than it had been the past month. While drinking, eating or even hot days that would make the devil cry, out the mask stayed on.

“Ghost..”

It had been a few weeks, and his lieutenant had been acting very odd. And Johnny was too tired today to listen to his common sense begging him to leave the man alone.

“Why’s the mask on?”

The silence stretched on, and Ghost kept avoiding his eyes. Finally, after it was apparent Soap was not going to let it go, he mumbled.

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Soap stared at him in horror.

“I beg your fucking pardon sir??”

“Johnny.”, Ghost grunted, “I can feel your eyes staring holes at me. Everytime I come in the room or take the mask off you don’t look at me and I never really liked my face anyways. It’s better this way.. for both of us.”

All Soap could do was stare at him in shock.

“Are you fucking blind?-“

“Piss off MacTavish don’t lie-“

“NOT LYIN’ YE FUCKIN’ ARSEHOLE-“

“I DISGUST YOU-“

“HOW DARE YOU SAY THAT YE BASTARD YOURE PRETTY FACE DISTRACTS ME!”

Ghost blinks before locking eyes with him and Soap can feel a warm red slowly spread across his face.

Had he really just said that.

No, not said that. Yelled that. Like one of those fucking soap operas.

“.. pretty face?”

Soap buries his face in his hand, feeling it burning red.

“No.. I.. meant preeny face”

“The fuck is even that Johnny-“

“Yes a pretty face!” Soap exclaimed. “A face that I can’t stop staring at because everytime I do I can’t fucking breath. A face that looks like Gods finest creation, and one that no matter who tries, can’t capture your beauty on paper.”

“You’re a pretty boy Simon.. and I almost accidentally shot myself in the foot looking at you last week.”

Soap didn’t dare look up to see Ghost’s reaction to it.

He was so fucking dead wasn’t he? Ghost would just leave him here, walk back to base and declare Soap had gone rogue. Yep.. here lay Soap. The man who called the deadly sniper and feared lieutenant “pretty face.”

“Johnny..”

A gloved hand brushed against his, and Soap looked up at the touch. Ghost was right in front of him, eyes wary and scrutinising.. but there was also another look he couldn’t quite place.

But he’s overstepped by a mile. He’d crossed every boundary there was, so the least he could do was leave the man alone.

“Sorry sir.. I’ll take my leave.”

“Stay.”

The command was low, but it still sent shivers down Soap’s spine. He’d already begun walking away, but hesitated before turning around.

Wordlessly Ghost raised his arm, and when Soap realised what he was going to do he turned around and started walking faster.

“I said stay, sergeant.”

A gloved hand found his and spun him around, with Soap’s back slamming the door shut while Ghost placed one arm near his head, the other holding his balaclava.

Feeling his heart hammering, he knew there was only a matter of time before his face flushed red again and he tried to cover his face with his arms, only for them to be pushed down by Ghost.

“Look at me Johnny.”

How the fuck had he end up here??

Soap gulped before opening his eyes, and his breath hitched in his chest as he took in the man in front of him.

Ghost was barely two inches away from his face, so Soap was able to fully explore every part of his face. The way his eyes looked, the curls of his hair, the lips that were just begging to be kissed, and-

Ghosts eyes, searching for something in Johnnys reaction finally softened as he got his answer. His face felt like it was on fire, and going by Simon’s reaction, they both knew he was blushing.

[narkissistikos]

REALIZATIONS HIT HARDER THAN COCONUTS (PART 3)

“Travis. Put that down.” Katie growled.

You and Connor were sitting in the dining pavilion…. Waiting for Travis…. Who was getting scolded by Katie.

“But it’s not for you…” Travis whined. You both saw Katie take in a deep breath.

“And I’m going to believe that.” Katie crossed her arms.

“Is that green paint in her hair?” You whisper asked Connor. Connor nodded with a stupid grin on his face.

“What did you do?” you groaned.

Connor chuckled, “In my defence, it was Travis’s plan. Not mine.”

“PUT IT DOWN.”

“FINE.”Travis huffed and poured the bucket of ice cold water over Katie.

She gasped at the water, “I’m going to kill you!!” she growled.

“Oh, just kiss already.” You groaned. While Connor chuckled beside you.

Travis booked it out of there with Katie hot on his heels.

You turned around to face Connor, “why aren’t they dating yet?” you asked him.

Connor rolled his eyes at his older brothers’ stupidness, “Because Travis thinks that Katie doesn’t like him.”

You face palmed, “Does the obliviousness gene run through the whole family or what?”

Connor looked at you incredulously, “huh?”

“Nothing.” You breathed.Connor hummed, “its unrequited love, isn’t it?”

“It’s not unrequited love,” You started, “they’re both just idiots!”

“Y/N!” you heard your name being called, “I need your help.”

“Coming.” You told Annabeth. “Bye.” You said to Connor, ruffling his hair, which by the way was extremely soft, leaving Connor smiling way too big.

Connor was peacefully eating his lunch with his brother, but that peace had to be interrupted. Katie slammed the table they were sitting on, “You’re going to clean my cabin before the campfire tonight, or you’re not gonna wake up tomorrow morning.”

Travis looked surprised, “But I didn’t do anything.” Connor glared at his brother, “how dare you do something without me?”

“I swear I didn’t do anything.”

“Then why is there a huge drawing of one of you on the cabin door.”

“Connor could have done it too”

“HEY!”

“I don’t care who did it. It’s obviously one of you, so go clean it up. My younger siblings are now traumatised because of that ugly picture.” Katie said.

Travis let out an offended gasp, “How dare you. I’m freaking gorgeous.”

“So you admit it was you.” Katie said crossing her arms.

“It wasn’t.” Travis argued.

“You better clean it up Stoll.” Katie said before walking away to her own table.Travis turned to see Connor with a smug smile.

“What?” Travis asked him.

Connor chuckled, “You’re so whipped. You’ll do anything to get Katie’s attention, won’t you?”

“Shut up.” Travis said throwing a pea at him, which hit Connor right in the centre of his forehead.

Later that day, the brothers were standing in front of Cabin 4, in front of a very dark red spray painted drawing of Travis.

“It does look like you. Very believable.” Connor said putting the bucket of water down.

Travis frowned, “how can you tell it’s me. It could be you too.”

Connor shook his head, “I look prettier than you. And see, your eyes are slightly bigger than mine.”

“How do you know my eyes are bigger than yours?”

“That’s what Y/n said to me once anyways.”

“You guys can measure your eyeballs later. First clean the paint off.” Katie interjected.

“Now look here little lady. If we did this, it would be fair to make us clean this up. But we didn’t do it, which means it’s unfair to make us clean this.” Travis said wiggling his finger at Katie.

“Little lady?” Katie asked incredulously, “I’m like two inches shorter than you.”

“You’re a tiny precious little thing.”

“Shut up.” Katie whined, with a slight rose dusting her cheeks. Anybody could have missed it, Connor didn’t. But Travis did.

“I’m just gonna go.” Connor whispered, before dashing in the opposite direction of the two.

He looks over still running seeing you run with him. “Why are you running?”

“I’m running because you’re running. It’s fun. Why are you running?”

“I don’t know why I’m running.” Connor said skidding to a stop.

You stop beside him, huffing. “Are you a crack or what? Why would you make me run without any reason?”

“I never told you to run.”

“Still…. All that energy wasted on nothing.”

“Help me clean the Demeter cabin door?” Connor asked with that ‘I did something help me cover it up’ smile.

“Absolutely not. You brought this upon yourself.” You shook your head.

“But I didn’t do it!” Connor whined.

“Well one of you did. Now pay the consequences.”

“That’s the thing!” Connor exclaimed, “both of us didn’t do it.” Connor noticed you trying to hide a smile. “What?”

“Oh nothing.” You wave him off.

“It was you?!” Connor yelled when he saw you laugh.

“My motives….” you said breaking into laughter, “Were good. Now look. Travis and Katie are alone. One of them is bound to break.”

“It’s not going to happen.”

“I can still hope for it.”

Connor was dreaming about pancakes that night. They looked delicious. Then came the waffles. With the syrup and ice cream.

Then the waffles started whispering. ‘Connor?’ the waffles grew a mouth.

“huh?” Connor mumbled in his sleep.

Then the waffle lifted a fork and banged it on the plate, “Connor!” the waffle whisper shouted, this time sounding oddly like you.

“Oh look. The waffle sounds just like Y/n.” connor mumbled sleepily in the pillow.

“Connor, you dingus!” the waffle threw a blue berry at him. That made Connor wake up to find you knocking on the window beside his bunk.

“Waffles?” Connor sleepily asked. Connor heard a muffled ‘what’ through the window leading him to open the window for you to get in.

“What’s wrong?” Connor asked sleepily, rubbing his eyes. “Can’t sleep?”

He watched you get in through the window and accidently snag your knee on a screw on the window sill and winced. He brought his feet closer to him to make you some place to sit.

“Its 2 am.” You grumbled angrily and pulled Connors blanket over you, “I’ve tried everything and I CAN NOT sleep, Connor”

“Uh huh” Connor mumbled almost half asleep himself, leading you to mumble out a ‘oh come on’ yourself.

“I’m awake. I’m not sleeping. I’m awake” Connor said out of nowhere shocking you when he shook himself awake.

“What do you wanna do?” Connor asked you rubbing his nose. “Sleep” you answered.

“How are we gonna do that?”

“What makes you think that I, the one who has trouble falling asleep, has the answer to that question?”

“Why are you so grumpy?” Connor whined.

“Gee lemme think…”

“Gods Y/n, we gotta get you to sleep. Or you're gonna skin someone alive tomorrow”

“You better hope it’s not you” Connor heard you say with closed eyes and felt a kick on his feet.

“Will you two PLEASE go to sleep?” you heard Travis grumble in his sleep, “Its bad enough that I have to deal with the two of you when im awake, I don’t wanna have to deal with two idiots who are stupid, sleepy and grumpy.”

“Why does he talk so much when he’s trying to sleep?” you whisper asked Connor.

“I don’t know. Just because hes me brother doesn’t mean I get everything he does.”

“I cant sleep Connor”

“Yes Y/n I can see that”

“That sounds an awful lot like something I would say. Are you copying me?”

“It DID sound like you!” Connor yelled a little bit too loud.

“Connor. Y/n.” Luke said extremely threateningly from his bunk.

“Go to sleep. Or I’m feeding the two of you to harpies myself”

And let me tell you, when the best swordsman in the past 3 hundred years tells you to shut up, you bet everything in your life that you WILL shut up.

“Sorry” Both of you whispered, and you kicked Connor’s shin so you could sleep beside him on the bed.

“There’s no room” Connor whispered.

“I’m not going back. The Harpies AND Mr.D will kill me” you whispered, and got comfortable on his bed.

“Stop kicking me”

“I'll kick you if I want to”

“Just go to sleep Y/n.”

“Well I wouldn’t be here, if I could sleep, would I Dumbo?”

“Did you just call me an elephant?” Connor whispered angrily.

“Yes…..” You thought for a moment, “I think im hungry, that’s why I cant fall asleep”

“That. Or it’s the ten naps you take through the day”

“I took ONE nap”

“Yeah. One THREE HOUR long nap”

“Connor I WILL slap you”

“Sleep” Connor whines, “Im begging you, PLEASE, sleep”

You turned to look at him, and he looked on the verge of crying.“Why are you crying?” you asked him, shocked all of a sudden.

“I’m tired” Connor rubbed his eyes.

“Then sleep”

“You're not letting me sleep”“Ok fine, I’ll try” You replied and pulled the blanket up to your chin tilting your head closer to Connors, as he did the same.

I’m not sure how long it took the both of you to fall asleep, but Luke and Travis had to cover up for the two of you the next morning while you two were sleeping.

[archiveikemen]

"Black Wedding" Story Event: Premium END

Liam's Route

I do not own any of the Ikemen Series content being uploaded on this blog, everything belongs to CYBIRD. Please support them by playing their games and buying stories. Not 100% accurate, expect mistakes.

read this before interacting with my posts

This story is in Liam's POV.

The doors opened, and the woman I loved entered in her jet-black wedding dress.

(... Ahh, she’s gorgeous.)

(So, so, gorgeous… Kate being my lover still feels like a beautiful dream.)

Even though we were on a mission, I couldn't resist being enchanted by Kate.

Liam: … Kate.

I gently wrapped my hand around Kate's, which was cold due to her nervousness.

The Founder’s voice echoed through the church.

Liam: Kate.

Kate: Yes…

Liam: I promise to love you in sickness and in health.

Kate: Me too. I promise to love you in sickness and in health.

(These vows are only pretend ones, but still… they make me so happy.)

As long as it was from Kate, anything would make my heart flutter.

Founder: I hereby pronounce you as a pair who will love each other for eternity. — And now, a kiss to seal your vows.

I lifted her black veil and touched her cheek.

(... I badly want to kiss you right now.)

But the murderous air I sensed was making my skin tingle.

Liam: … We’ll have to put this kiss on hold.

Suppressing my sweet feelings, I protectively hid Kate behind my back.

Kate: …!

In an instant, the cultists that had been standing there in silence took out their knives and guns.

(... Too bad. I’m first.)

With the gun I hid in my breast pocket, I fired at the chest of the man standing in front of me.

Black Haired Cultist: … Guwahh!

Well-Built Cultist: Damn it, why does he have a weapon! Kill both the bride and groom…!

Liam: Looks like it was a good idea to bring a gun just in case…

I shot down the attacking cultists one after another.

Patches of red that resembled flowers bloomed before my eyes with every shot.

(... There's people on the second floor?)

I shot the cultist that was pointing his gun at me from the second floor, and scanned Kate’s entire body.

(... Thank goodness, she’s not hurt.)

Seeing Kate’s relieved face made my heart pound unusually fast.

(I can’t believe you’re the one protecting me…)

Liam: Thanks for protecting me, Kate. You’re the best bride ever.

Liam: … I’ll do even better. Just hang in there for a little while more, I’ll have all of them gotten rid of in no time.

(... I won’t forgive anyone who dares to scare or harm Kate.)

— 30 seconds later.

Every last one of the cultists were lying on the floor, patches of red spreading out around them.

(... Is the Founder the only survivor?)

The Founder stared at me like he was looking at a monster.

But that didn’t affect me at all, as I was used to it.

Liam: This is how those couples who vowed eternal love to each other were killed.

Liam: Their love won’t break or fade away if they’re dead, that’s why it’s called “eternal love”.

Founder: … That's right.

Kate: … Why did you do that?

Founder: Because there’s no such thing as a love that lasts forever in this world.

Kate: Huh…?

(... I knew it.)

Contrary to what I was thinking, Kate appeared to be baffled.

It was impossible for her to immediately accept that the man who claimed to be able to grant eternal love, said that eternal love didn't exist.

Founder: No matter how much a pair of lovers love each other, that love will break eventually as time goes by.

Founder: The once beautiful love turns ugly and starts to rot away, they might even start detesting each other…

Founder: That’s why I want to save something so beautiful and make it last forever.

Founder: … What is so wrong about that?

His eyes were shaky and clouded over, as if he was looking at everyone and no one at the same time.

There must've been something that led him to harbour such twisted ideals, but—.

(... That’s not a reason to kill people who don’t want to die.)

Liam: I get what you’re thinking. Because I, too, don’t believe in the existence of eternal love.

Liam: But my reason is a little different from yours.

Kate: …

I sensed Kate listening seriously to what I was saying.

Liam: Before I met her, I spent my life wishing for my own end. It was the only thing giving me hope.

(Therefore…)

Liam: … To me, “eternity” was too outrageous for me to ask for.

“Eternity” was something that was on the other extreme for me.

I thought that I wasn’t fated to have something so beautiful and precious.

Liam: To me, wanting to live and love for eternity was a miracle.

Liam: That’s why I think that I still can’t say with confidence that I can make such a miracle happen.

(... I really want to be someone who can smile at you, telling you that there is such a thing as eternity.)

(I’m sorry, Kate. I can’t always be a righteous man.)

Liam: But… while wishing for eternity, I want to spend my days with the one I love.

I heard Kate gasp, and I turned to smile at her.

(I want to live today, look forward to tomorrow, and have hope. All of that… is because you taught me love.)

Liam: Kate. I’ll love you with all my heart until the day I die.

Liam: While staying by your side, I’ll wish for an eternity that I’ve never seen before. Because I love you.

Kate: … Liam.

(I’m stupidly in love with you, standing by my side.)

Founder: … Shut up.

Founder: Shut up, shut up, shut up! You will regret this! And before that, I will create that eternity!

Faster than the Founder could pull out his gun and pull the trigger, I shot a bullet that pierced through his heart.

Liam: Good night. … You can continue your search for eternal love in hell.

Afterwards, Crown arrived to clean up the bloody bodies lying around, as well as the corpses that were stored underground.

— Innocent lovers would never shed blood again.

…

Liam: I never thought our first wedding would end up like this.

Kate: Fufu, same here. But I’m so glad that you’re safe and sound…

(I should be saying that.)

Liam: It’s because you protected me. Thank you, my lovely bride.

Kate: Thank you for protecting me too, my handsome husband.

Still smelling like blood, we smiled at each other while in the church’s garden.

(Ahh, it’s a starless night tonight…)

For some reason, I felt like making a promise to Kate.

I wanted to imagine a future with my beloved who was next to me.

Liam: … I hope that when we have our real wedding someday, it will have nothing to do with missions.

(If I marry Kate for real… I might shed tears of joy.)

Liam: I’ll give you a bouquet of modern roses so big that you can’t hold them.

Liam: … And I’ll seal our vows with a kiss. Ah, but I don’t want anyone witnessing that.

Liam: After the wedding ceremony, we’ll go on a honeymoon as newlyweds. What do you think about going to a place where we can see the sea?

Kate: Fufu, that would be wonderful. Let’s lie down on the beach.

Liam: Ahaha, that’s the best!

Thinking more and more about the things I wanted to do together made my heart flutter.

(... Before I met you, I never knew that I was capable of doing this.)

(— Because you gave me your love, I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy. I want to reciprocate the love you’ve given me.)

(Therefore… I have to keep living.)

Liam: I hope to finally reach eternity with you someday. … I look forward to tomorrow whenever I’m with you.

Kate: … Me too.

Kate: Hey, Liam. What you said at the church earlier on made me very happy to hear. Therefore, let me promise you that as well.

(Huh…?)

Kate took my hand and kissed the back of it.

I was so surprised that I couldn't say a thing, and Kate focused on me with her beautiful eyes.

Kate: I promise to love you with all my heart until the day death pulls us apart.

Kate: While staying by your side, I’ll wish for an eternity that I’ve never seen before. … Will you live tomorrow with me too?

Liam: …

(Ahh…)

Liam: … There’s only… one answer… to that…

I pulled Kate into a hug so tight that she almost couldn't breathe.

Liam: … Yes. Please stay like this with me forever.

I smiled and closed my eyes, and kissed her lips.

(I love you so much that I’ll stop breathing if I don’t have you with me.)

(Therefore, please let me stay with you forever.)

Like a fool, I hoped that one day, that kiss would be a real kiss to seal our vows.

[ryuwonieebae]

𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐉𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐀𝐍 (윤정한)

As Imagines, Imagines, One-shot

Genre : Fluff, romance

Pairing : Jeonghan x female!reader

𝐸𝑛𝑒𝑚𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝐿𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠

𝐽𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑔ℎ𝑎𝑛 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑚𝑦 𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒 ℎ𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑠𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑜𝑙. 𝐴𝑙𝑙 𝑜𝑓 𝑖𝑡 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑢𝑝𝑖𝑑 𝑝𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑘𝑠 ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝑜𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑓𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑜𝑟 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑎𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑏𝑜𝑡ℎ 𝑔𝑟𝑜𝑤 𝑢𝑝.

("Ahhh" you groaned as you picked up the paper ball that just hit your head. "You punk how dare you hit me!?!! " you roared at Jeonghan who was giving you an innocent look. You sighed and cursed him for the 100th time as you sat down and laid your head on your desk trying to sleep only to get hit by another paper ball.. Ughhhhh! )

"You still love him????!??? What the heck is wrong with you?!" your bestie questioned you causing you to snap out of your flashback.

"Yes, I do. Why are you screaming like a mad person right now!?"

"Oh my god! Gurll you don't even know where he is right now, his job, his number, Literally nothing. Plus, he was your enemy"

"So?"

"So, get a life and move on!!"

"It's not that easy"

"I know but still-"

"I still have a chance though... I hope he attends our highschool reunion tomorrow."

You said while taking your blue-gold dress out of your closet. You double-checked it and laid it on your bed.

TIME SKIP

"Am I looking good?" you asked your bestie again with a worried expression.

"Yes, you are. For god's sake, can you stop asking the same question for the millionth time? Gosh! You're so annoying" she said while rolling her eyes. You laughed and nodded slowly feeling satisfied with your overall look. Soon, you left for the reunion with your bestie.

Jeonghan pov

As I was talking to Seungcheol my eyes wandered the place looking for someone. Suddenly, I heard a familiar voice that made me turn around only to meet the eyes I had been longing for all these years. Even though it has been 6 years, my feelings for her are still stronger. She looked so ethereal like a goddess. I want to kiss her right now in this place only if it's possible.

Back to your pov

You entered the place only to see your other friends looking at you like they'd seen a ghost.

"Why the hell are you guys looking at me like that? Am I that ugly?"

"Nah! We're just shocked to see you in a dress for the first time. You look dead gorgeous to be honest"

"Hehe, thanks"

You thanked them slowly looking around the place. Your eyes suddenly made eye contact with your enemy or maybe your crush. He looked like a fallen angel, more attractive than before. You didn't break eye contact with him, instead, you approached him somehow gathering your courage.

"Hey, Jeonghan"

"Oh, hey darling," Jeonghan said in a flirty tone making your face go red as a tomato. You cursed yourself under your breath giving him an awkward smile. Ignoring it, you both started talking to him normally but it felt a little weird as you guys always fought and never chatted like normal people. As you were about to ask him whether he has a girlfriend or not, one of your classmates called you. You had no choice but to leave him.

TIME SKIP

You're now standing on the balcony looking at the beautiful night sky.

"You're here?" someone asked you making you look behind only to find Jeonghan standing while his hands were in his pockets.

"Yeah" you simply replied. He slowly walked and stood beside you.

"Not to mention but your hair and my dress colour look the same."

"Yeah, they are," he said giggling softly.

There was another awkward moment until he decided to break it.

"I missed you" he said looking deeply at you with his dazzling eyes. Out of the blue, he held your hands. "Y/n-ahh, I know that you hate me but I want you to know that I loved you and I still do. I'm being serious right now. It's not a prank. I swear. The only reason I started to tease you was because I wanted you to notice me but it was a terrible mistake. You started hating me after that and thought of me as your enemy. I shouldn't have done that. I love you. I really do," he said while cupping your tender cheeks.

Jeonghan slowly leaned in to kiss you. You didn't stop him. How could you do that? Even after he confessed his feelings for you? No way. You were craving this for a long time. Your enemy crush had a crush on you, which is something you could never dream of. Your lips were locked with his, slowly kissing. The kiss was filled with sparks and love. It made your tummy do some flips and gave you butterflies. With the heartbeats being in sync, you both pulled away catching your breath.

"I love you too Jeonghan. I have never hated you. I loved you since highschool"

"Really!? So, will you be my girlfriend?" he asked you kneeling on the ground, showing the sparkling diamond ring. "You came prepared, didn't you?" you asked him giggling. Then, you said yes as he slid the ring into your ring finger. Standing up, he embraced you tightly, grinning like a Chesire cat.

"I love you," you both said at the same time under the glowing moonlight and sky full of shimmering stars with you still in his embrace.

"𝑨𝒓𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒍𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒓 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂 𝒇𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕?"

•𝑬𝒏𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔•

~THE END~

A/n : This fanfic is purely based on my imagination only. I hope this is good enough to make you guys happy. Thank you for supporting me. It means a lot for me.. Thanks to my besties too<3...