#airy writes for blue lock

[airybcby]

If I Could Never Give You Peace

( bllk boys when your secret relationship is leaked by paparazzi)

a/n — wrote this on a whim after listening to peace by taylor swift

content — some nsfw but not explicit, fem! reader, cursing , all characters are 18 or 18+, slight ooc maybe?, some characters are repeated

synopsis — what happens when your relationship is leaked?

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' i'd give you my sunshine, give you my best ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the... ' everyone thought you'd broken up '

listen, you knew dating a good soccer player in high school was a big deal, but you didn't realize how big of a deal it really was when he went pro.

this was the same boy ( now man) that you'd been dating since you were 14, so nothing really changed your views on him. if you could love him through his awkward phase, and he could love you through yours, there was no way you'd break up.

again, you didn't realize that your relationship was such a big deal. it wasn't that the two of you were a secret, it was more of a 'private not secret' situation.

so when the two of you woke up in your shared bed because of just how many notifications the both of you were getting, you knew something was up.

and low and behold, something was wrong. when you opened any social media the first thing you saw was a strangely amazing photo of you and your long-term boyfriend kissing. really, if it wasn't a paparazzi photo, it would be your lock screen.

"aren't we just the cutest?" he asked you, phone thrown back onto his bedside table as if he didn't have a care in the world. (and he really didn't, not in this case)

truly, the only thing that may make him angry in this whole situation is the fact that he got woken up far earlier than his usual routine by all the commotion.

but of course, as he was dozing back off, you were reading the comments, as any loyal significant other would.

soccerluvr45: omg is that is gf from high school? i thought they broke up

okay, yeah. he had a rather public instagram account in high school that his rabid fans had found that had pictures of the two of you, but you'd never broken up?

reading through the many comments, it was like everyone had collectively decided the two of you'd broken up.

"mhm...just ignore it. the pr lady will deal with it." he mumbled as he grabbed your phone from your hands, laying it beside his before wrapping his arms around you.

"go to bed, 's too early to deal with all this."

his fans were silly, if they could see you with this bed-head man right now, they'd see there was no way the two of you would ever break up.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ NAGI SEISHIRO, yo hiori, NIJIRO NANASE, hyoma chigiri

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the... ' pr nightmare '

anyone who knew your boyfriend knew he was...a little extreme.

and unfortunately for you, this also applied when your relationship became public because of a slight slip of focus from the two of you. it wasn't that you were trying to keep your relationship a secret, you'd already been together a year now, but you also weren't trying to out yourselves.

yet, one singular minute when the two of you slipped away to the bathroom together at a soccer banquet...well lets just say a paparazzi was scarily ready to snap someone, anyone's, photo.

so here you were, sitting in a terrifyingly big office with your boyfriend and almost his entire management team.

"do you know what this could do to your reputation?" his manager asked. "it's just two adults doing adult things, they should've been in that bathroom! that would've gotten them—"

"okay, sir..."the pr woman cut him off, ever too enthusiastic to be talking about your private lives.

"you just need to ignore all of this until it goes away, alright? no press interviews after games anymore," she sighed as if this was basic comprehension. (your boyfriend wasn't the smartest but he also didn't need to be treated like an idiot.) "and no posting on any social medias for the time being. do you understand?"

"yeah, yeah. no talking to the grown men after games. and..."he grimaced at the thought of his next condition. " c'mon is posting on my socials that bad? i don't post about us anyways."

"at. all." and the room felt as icy as the pr woman's stare.

"yeah, no, okay i got it. no social media."

after another thirty minutes of this, with them saying basically the same stuff to you (even though you had no real social media presence anyways), you guys finally left.

"no fucking posting? what if i have to talk about a game coming up?" "i'm sure she knows how to do her job, love." you soothed your boyfriend as you got in the car the company arranged to have you two taken up with.

"yeah, well whatever. give me your hand," and who were you to say no to your boyfriend?

he took your hand and placed it on his neck, a place where you could see a few bites and hickeys if you really looked hard enough.

before you could protest he took a picture, posting it on his VERY public account with the caption...

' i love my woman ;) '

before turning off his phone completely.

"let's see them try to get ahold of me now."

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ RYUSEI SHIDO, tabito karasu, EITA OTOYA, oliver aiku

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the... ' what picture ? '

how do two chronically offline people realize their relationship is now under scrutiny by the entire world?

the simple answer is...they don't!

you've never been interested in social media the way other girls your age had been. really, you'd rather just watch a video essay on every little topic that interests you than sit and watch six second videos then scroll all day.

to say the least, fast and forever changing social media just wasn't your thing.

and your boyfriend? he hardly even used his phone. unless it was for business or you, the thing was practically shoved away somewhere he couldn't care less about.

he would rather be reading or spending time with you out on a date...which is exactly the predicament the paparazzi put you in earlier this week.

the two of you were photographed having a little picnic and reading date at a small park that was pretty far out of town, assuming no one there knew, or even cared, enough to take a picture, but alas, someone did.

you and he had spent the rest of your week in pure, relaxed bliss. he had a game on saturday, so besides him going to practice and working out, the two of you stayed inside almost all week to prepare for the rather hectic weekend.

to say the game was a nail biter would be the understatement of the century. after two additional times, it was your boyfriend who scored the winning goal.

of course, you cheered the loudest, not noticing plenty of fans eyes on you unlike how many used to just chalk you up as an ecstatic fan.

as the post game interview came for him, you decided to stay closer to the door just incase it ran short. sometimes it was a one and done for him and others the questions went on for at least fifteen minutes, it just depended on his mood.

of course, the first question was about his game winning goal, but the second one threw him and you for a loop.

" what do you have to say about the photos of you and your reported girlfriend that have come out this past week? "

"...huh? what photos?"

eventually, the two of you did see the pictures, and all you could do was laugh because...how had you two not found out about this?

and you also made the picture your phone lock screen, but he didn't have to know that.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ RIN ITOSHI, reo mikage, SAE ITOSHI, chigiri hyoma

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' but the rain is always gonna come if you're standing with me ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

[ + your faves ! ]

i wrote this in about an hour, and i think it shows but i had to get it out of my brain :))

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[one-sunny]

Quiet, brooding type.

Law x F!Reader drabble

Summary: When the straw hat cook takes an interest in you, a heart pirate, your crew takes it upon themselves to speak up on your behalf.

note: first time writing for law lets go

Masterlist

“Darling, please let me take care of that. You don’t have to lift even one of those precious fingers while you’re here.” Sanji’s loud voice coo’s over you, taking the mug from your hands with a love sick expression. “Would you like any more tea? Maybe a snack?”

The heart pirates watch on with varying degrees of annoyance, watching as their crew mate was doted on by a Straw hat, of all people. “Ya know, we could use a snack too.” Shachi crosses his arms over his chest, Penguin mimicking the expression.

“Or a drink.”

Sanji’s eye move to the group sitting close by and his gaze shifts from sweet to more than annoyed. “The snacks are for Y/N, Robin, and Nami!” He barks at the group, before he is off to refill your drink.

You’re laughing in your seat, propping your feet up with a dreamy sigh, “I could really get used to this.” You move your arms behind your head as you offer the group a cheeky grin. Law rolls his eyes at your airy demeanor.

“Yeah, don’t expect this kind of treatment when we set off.” Law grumbles, his demeanor having shifted to far more grumpy than usual.

“Don’t worry about them, my sweet.” Sanji reappears at your side with a refill of tea and a small snack to go along with it.

You grin at the man, “Thanks, cook.” Taking the things from him, you make sure to gently graze your fingers over his, curious of the reaction. And you’re delighted to see it’s instantaneous as Sanji nearly melts at your feet. He rattles on affectionately while adorning bright heart eyes.

“Tch,” Penguin tuts at the man. “You know she’s not into the lovey, sweet talk, right?” He points an accusing finger at the blonde, but Sanji pays little attention. You offer a look of confusion.

“Yeah, she’s more into the quiet, brooding type.” Shachi immediately jumps in, casting a look towards your very own captain.

You nearly spill your tea in your haste to hush the group. Heat burns at your cheeks and you can’t even bring yourself to meet their eyes in a glare. “Sanji, can I join you in the kitchen?” Your voice is a pitch higher than you mean. “‘S a little loud out here.” You grit your teeth.

“Wait-“

But Sanji’s cheery voice quickly cuts Law off. “Of course, darling!” He beams as he offers you a hand. The blonde happily leads you away as you bow your head in embarrassment.

Sure, the two didn’t explicitly spell it out, but your captain was smart enough to connect the dots.

Collapsing into one of the kitchen chairs, Nami casts a curious look in your direction. Then, a smile pulls to her lips. “Nice to see that my crews not the only one with idiots on it.” You can’t help but laugh at the woman’s bluntness.

“Unfortunately.” You huff out.

“Though, i figure Law would be better at keeping them in check than Luffy is. He seems like the type.” Her watchful gaze is locked in on you.

“Well, he is.” You tip your head, a smile pulling to your lips in thought. “But that doesn’t necessarily stop them from blurting something stupid out.” Fingers fidget with the cookie on your plate, picking at the chocolate chips with a pout.

“So,” Nami drawls out. “What they said, it’s true?” You immediately drop your hands to glare at the Straw hat. She laughs in response and holds up her hands defensively, “Look, I won’t blurt it out like those guys, but i’ve been stuck on the boat for a hot minute and this is the kind of gossip that’s gonna keep me going.”

“Whatever.” You roll your eyes defiantly.

“Awh, so his little glares have rubbed off on you.” She smirks.

“Nami.” You huff. Before you can scold the woman- just as Law would, you take note- a blue haze suddenly fills the room. Brows pulled in confusion, you share a look with Nami, and then your body is suddenly falling.

Seconds later, you fall back to sit against a crate. Your head whips around in confusion until you come face to face with Trafalgar Law. The man narrows his eyes at you and looks entirely unamused. He speaks your name in a low sound, almost like a warning.

“What?” You cross your arms defensively.

He huffs out as he leans a hip against the wall. Your eyes cast around the room in attempt to decipher exactly where he had shambled you to, an effort to avoid his judging eye. “What have I said about getting too close to the Straw hats?”

Your lips move in a mocking manner and Law’s glare deepens. “I’m not getting close to any of them.” You roll your eyes, leaning your back against the wall.

“Really? And what was going on with the cook then?” He speaks the title with a certain level of venom.

“Nothing, it’s fun to mess with him.” You shrug.

“Well, I don’t like how close he’s trying to get to you.” Law huffs

A grin pulls to your lips as you poke the man’s arm, right where you know a heart is tattooed into his skin. “You’re only mad that he’s not bringing you snacks.” Law closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath, and slowly blowing it out. You were well aware that you were grating on his nerves but you simply could not help yourself.

“I don’t care if he’s,” Law pauses. “Not your type.” Your lips snap shut and Law moves on before you have a chance to speak your protest. “But I don’t want any of my crew getting too close. This alliance isn’t a permanent thing-“

“I know, Law.” You mutter, bowing your head. “And please don’t listen to those guys, ugh, they’re just idiots.”

Law raises a brow, “So he is?”

You’re thrown off guard by the question. “Well I didn’t mean that. He, uh, he’s not.” You bite at your lower lip as the nerves strike through you at his close gaze. As if afraid you would accidentally confess if you met his golden eyes. “That doesn’t matter, though, does it?”

His lips purse.

You raise a brow at the lingering silence. “Does it?”

And the silence lingers.

“Okay I’m confused.” Your shoulder drop and you finally meet his eye.

“Just my type.” He simply states.

Your brows shoot up, ignoring the insinuation that Law liked the confused girls, and instead focusing on the way he was looking at you. It wasn’t all heart eyes and cheesy smiles like Sanji. Instead, it was the faint smile and softened gaze. Something so completely and utterly Law.

His gaze falls, the hat shadowing his face, but there is no way for him to hide the tips of his ears burning pink. He takes in a breath, “Look, we’ll be heading out soon. Just stay away from the cook until then, okay?

“Sure thing, Captain.” You grin.

[hotwritergf]

you could write a one shot where the reader (who is part of the bau) always acquits or does what Spencer says, letting him talk for hours and Do you also write down facts that you find interesting? I think that's a very nice thing. (also if there is some smut afterwards I don't complain somehow).

p.s. I love your stories<3

Pretty as a vine, sweet as a grape🍇

(Hi! I’m sorry I know I don’t usually add comments onto my fics anymore but I just needed to say that I loved writing this. This concept was so fun to write and I’m quite happy with how it came out.)

“How is everything you say somehow so profound but yet so socially inept?” You chuckle, shaking your head through your laughter as you look up at him. Spencer laughs along with you sarcastically, an unamused fake grin painted on his face. He takes a step closer to you, lifting the umbrella over your head, protecting you from the unforgiving Quantico rain. Spencer leads you forward, guiding you with his hand on your lower back as he rubs his palm against your damp jacket. “Back to my place?” You speak, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “We’ll get sick if we’re out in the rain too long Spence.” Accepting your offer he links his arm around yours and you begin to walk down the street together. “Sickness is not directly caused by rain, but being outside in rainy conditions could increase your exposure to airborne viruses that might be present.” Spencer explains in his trademark, matter of fact tone. Giggling, as you fiddle with your keys, searching for the right one to unlock your apartment door. He sneaks them out of your hand, inspecting the lock on your door and the keys in hand, picks out the correct key and unlocks the door with a timid smile. “Clean towels in the bathroom if you want to dry yourself off.” You recommend him the blue one, it’s new and fluffy and completely unused, knowing he’s more likely to feel comfortable with the knowledge that it’s new. You want him to feel nothing less than comfortable. Spencer nods his head and makes his way to the bathroom. At the loss of his presence you reach into your bag, pulling out your notebook and pen. Scribbling down some nonsense as a scrappy, badly written diary entry as quickly as you can. Your journals were the one thing that held every detail of your life, not even your social media pages held that much information on you. You dot your i’s and cross your t’s, swiftly closing the book and burrowing it inside your handbag again.

A few days pass and you’re not feeling up to scratch. With the pharmacy not filling your prescription, mixed with the depths of your unrelenting depressing you’re struggling to keep your head above water. The files of paperwork stack up higher than they should on your desk, coffee rings stain the wood on your desk as it wobbles under your writing. Each case seemed to be more emotionally demanding than the last. But there was Spencer. He stumbles over to you, clumsy and un-spatially aware as ever, placing a bag of baked goods in front of you. The smell of cinnamon hits you immediately and you melt into the back of your chair, your lips pin up into a beaming smile. The monster in your head silencing just for a moment under the soft, dulcet act of Reid. “You’ve- you’ve seemed down. I didn’t want to pry incase you didn’t want to share, but sugar stimulates feel-good endorphins associated with reward. So, cinnamon buns!” He announced, his voice airy and angelic as he scratches the back of his head with his left hand; his right fiddling with the buttons on the stomach of his cardigan. He needn’t say anything more, the smile on your face and your back finally resting against the chair, regaining posture, says all the gratitude he needs. Spencer simply taps the bag on your desk with a grin and returns to his desk. Not only did he leave you with a sugary treat, he left with you with more of off the top of his head statistics that you couldn’t get enough of. Each one of them showing he cares, he thinks of you. He puts thought into everything he says, whether or not his words land with the people he speaks to is irrelevant. He shows he cares in his own unique way and you simply cannot get enough of it, you find your journal once more, leaving todays page decorated with his facts about sugar. Reaching into the bag from the local bakery, you take out your bun, wrapping the base with the napkin. With your first bite, you grin. Even if it didn’t ‘stimulate your endorphins’ it still tasted like heaven.

Friday night rolled around eventually, this week had felt never-ending. Slotted next to Spencer on the jet, you reach out and poke his side, demanding his attention. He jerks back with a giggle, you always forget he never grew out of being ticklish. You smirk and tease, “Oh right… ticklish. I forget you’re a little baby.” His cheek gain a new pink blush that reaches all the way to the tips of his ears. “You can’t grow out of your nerve endings in your skin sending electrical signals to the somatosensory cortex. Plus- most adults are t-ticklish.” He stutters over his words, almost as if they are too shy to be spoken. His hands rise to protect himself as your fingers threaten to poke him again, he chuckles in anticipation. “Whatever you say genius, deny it all you want. It’s still adorable.” Your voice soft and teasing as you smirk at him again. “Movie night tomorrow?” You suggest, your hands moving back to your lap as he begins to re-adjust himself and relax. Spencer nods, “Can we watch Star Wars?” He asks, sounding like an excited puppy. You roll your eyes playfully and smile, “Fine. As long as its Revenge of the Sith.” Spence chuckles, shaking his head and rises from his seat, heading to the jet bathroom. As is your new routine, your diary finds its way to the table in front of you. Scrambling to write today’s entry before Spencer returns, you try to remember his every word as you write. As you hear the door unlock you practically throw the book behind you and sit in front of it. Praying that the man with the 187 IQ doesn’t notice, should be fine, right?

Settling the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table, you get the TV set up ready for Spencer’s arrival. Everything is perfect, you’d bought his favourite popcorn, salted obviously. You’d also brewed a pot of the tea you’d made him last time, it was just English Breakfast tea but he’d sworn it was mind-blowing. The door is knocked, three times, Spencer’s lucky number. “It’s open!” You bellow your voice and put your feet up onto the sofa. Spence walks in, lifting your legs and placing them down on his lap when he settles next to you. He places his bag down on the floor beside him, but something bashes against it. Reaching down to find the offending item, you find its your journal. “Hey, y/n. I think you left this book on the floor. Where does it live so I can put it back in its rightful home?” He questions, you feel the blood drain out of your face, you pale immediately. “No- its okay! Just gimmie.” You respond, but he notices your shaking hands reaching out to snatch it. Spencer pulls away, opening the first page. “What are these huh?” He teases uncharacteristically. “You writing little love letters?” He jokes, before looking down at the pages and blushing when he reads his own name. He reads at an alarming speed at the best of times, but when he’s transfixed on text, he can read even faster.

“You’re- you’re writing about me? I said every word here.” Spencer’s eyes widen, the hazel irises expanding as he turns the pages rapidly and skims the text. “Oh you just had to write that. Didn’t you?” He chuckles, reading your interactions from yesterday on the jet. “I. I just find you interesting Spencer. I know everyone teases you and interrupts you when you speak, I know they don’t appreciate you enough. They take your words for granted, even when they’re so profound.” Your pale face begins to blush, it was enough that Spencer had read your private diary, but having to admit your feelings that you’ve been trying to repress and ignore, it was seemingly impossible. “I want to remember the things you say because they’re important, and every time you say something personal to me, I want to treasure it. Bottle it and keep it forever, you know?”

Spencer, for once, is at a loss for words. His cheeks burning under the heat of his blush, he opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. His brain searching for anything to say, its like he’s frantically looking through the filing cabinet of words in his head and still coming up empty. With no vocabulary on his tongue, he leans forward and crashes his lips into yours. They’re soft and ample, featherlight against your own. No concerns of the lip gloss smearing and decorating his lips. Pulling away with a confused expression, “Spencer?” Your one word question is all you can say as you run your fingers through his hair. Your nails scratching against the back of his head softly and he leans into your touch wanting more. “I can’t help myself. I’ll stop if you want, if you didn’t want that I apologise profusely and I take full responsibility of my actions and I’ll do anything to make it up to you…” He gets in his own head about the moment just gone. “No, I definitely wanted that. Definitely.” You smile cheekily, rubbing your thumb against his heated cheeks. Spencer leans in once more, gasping into your mouth trying to dig deeper and deeper into your soul. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this. I just don’t- I don’t know how to get here. You know?” He explains, his hands find the small of your back and pull you closer to him. Your index finger reaches up, shh-ing against his lips. Silencing him to keep him from rambling for the first time ever. You scramble up onto his lap, leaning over him playfully. “You’re perfect Spencer Reid. Without even knowing it you’ve taken care of me for years. Let me take care of you.”

You roll your hips slowly underneath him, smirking as he fiddles with the back of your bra strap. Even with an IQ of 187 he can’t figure out how to unbuckle a bra. You smirk and let out a giggle and he blushes, “So needy already?” You tease, your voice hoarse and desperate. He grips onto your hips as if he’s deprived, pushing into your lips, kissing you like a man starved. Spencer’s breath is shaky and weak, you take his chin into your thumb and forefinger, lifting it up, deepening the kiss. “I want you.” He speaks shakily, “I know. I want you too.” You say, holding his cheeks in the palms of your hands. Rutting your hips against his bulge again, he convulses underneath you. He gasps and rushes his hand over his mouth and you know what’s happened. Not wanting to embarrassed him, you slide off of him. Slotting yourself next to him on the couch, trying to figure out the social expectation is when your crush finishes in his boxers before you’ve even touched him. You settle on pulling him into a cuddle, rubbing your palm up and down his back, feeling his boney spine through his skin. He looks up at you, his eyes wide and full of adoration, looking like pools of honey. “I need a few minutes, and maybe some of your magic tea.” He chuckles and you sigh in relief at the self depreciating humour he responds to the situation with. “Of course pretty boy.” You press your lips on the top of his forehead softly, breathing in his shampoo and cologne. He smells like coconut and sweetness. You jokingly reach out for your journal. “Today Spencer ended up cumming in his boxers.” You giggle together, your bodies rising and falling with each breath and your legs intertwined. The next hour could take a lifetime to arrive and you’d be a-okay with that.

[cloveroctobers]

I CAME HOME LATE — Terry Richmond [September Prompts] 🩶

A/N: listen…I’ve been wanted to write for this man since he was Mid-sized Sedan 😆 but he definitely wasn’t being talked about enough then. This isn’t anything big but I’m here to feed the tag a little with this thing so I hope you enjoy it!

PROMPT IS FROM HERE & I’m using: ²¹⁾ steaming cups of sake + ²²⁾ an airport terminal at midnight.

WARNINGS: language and some angst?

<- check out my previous anthology prompt here.

☾˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚☕︎ ☾˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚☕︎ ☾˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚☕︎ ☾˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚☕︎ ☾˚ ༘

Being a night owl wasn’t foreign for you.

You were born when the twilight hit the evening sky and your mother always had a hard time getting you down for the night as a baby. For as long as Terry’s known you—since high school—it was no surprise to learn that night shifts were where you thrived best.

He’s at the airport terminal, not knowing your schedule but taking the risk to show up where you worked. He had the urge to be near you again once it was set in motion that he was selling his food truck to head east to start over with his cousin, Mike. Terry had no issue adjusting to change as long as it has substance in the end. He couldn’t leave without seeing you and although it’s been a minute since you both spoke, he didn’t take it personally.

You were his ex-wife after all but that didn’t mean that the utmost respect for you vanished. Ever. Terry made himself comfortable in the crisp cool of the quiet pale blue airport, sticking to the front of the large building but couldn’t help his eyes searching the area every so often for you. He had a feeling that you would be coming around sooner than later and exactly at 12:03am, he spots you being led to the revolving doors with a man who was dressed in security attire.

Your light laughter is almost childlike, a little raspy and airy as the both of you squeeze each other’s shoulders lightly in farewell for the night before you turn to face Terry’s direction.

“Terry,” your voice is hushed with a hint of croaking in it, which is unusual since you were normally upbeat once the moon shined but from the sound of it, the day at the airport must have been a long one.

Terry says your name with a dip of his head, eye contact always on lock, which you held before slowly closing your eyes, not knowing what to expect of this appearance.

“Everything good?” The security guard asks based on your reaction and you raise a hand up with a nod of your head, informing him that it was.

Terry briefly stared at the security guard underneath his lashes, who must have been a good friend of yours—not that good if he was letting you walk out into the night to your car on your own—sure you could handle yourself if it ever came down to it but it was the right thing to do.

“Y’all take care.” The security guard states as he realizes that Terry is no danger to you.

Terry gives a crooked smile, “you as well, man.”

You step to him, fixing the strap to your backpack on your left shoulder—your better shoulder that didn’t suffer from a extreme tear that took two surgeries to fix—, “what’s happening?”

“Hm…I thought it was a nice night so I took a ride.” Terry smirks at you while you roll your eyes and begin walking towards the automatic doors.

Throwing your head back as you stood on the sidewalk you glance at Terry and begin to walk backwards, “A nice night to throw my mind for a loop? You never did have good timing.”

He would have thought that was a jab, considering that the papers he sent your way two weeks before he got honorable discharge arrived in your shared mailbox the same day your elderly dog died. It’s not like the papers were a shock, it’s been discussed over many video chats but like you said, Terry Richmond didn’t have the best timing when it came to certain things.

He was a marine after all so timing kind of came with the profession…perhaps if you were looking for something to blame it would be that.

“Now we both know that isn’t a hundred percent true,” Terry lightly points, head downwards and a sly smile playing on the corner of his lips, “is it a crime to come see my favorite girl?”

Letting out an exaggerated yawn, you give him an expressionless face afterwards before spinning back around to head to the parking lot, with Terry following you into the foggy low sixty degree night. He’s holding the car door open for you after you unlocked it with your clicker and you’re shoving your things into the passenger side before taking a seat in the driver’s side.

You peer up at him, “Did you need something?”

“Yeah,” Terry starts, “come with me to Liu’s…just to talk.”

Raising your brows you say, “Why now?”

“He hasn’t said anything to you?” Terry questions.

Lifting your once slumped shoulders, you stare back at Terry and he’s never known you to be a liar.

“Should he have?” You press, “He’s never gotten into our shit before so why would he? If you wanted your business told, you should have said something to Ken.”

Terry snorts at the mention of Mr. Liu’s nephew.

He was a good guy but he was crap at secrets and excellent at taking direction.

“You’re not wrong,” The man with the goatee inhales, “look I won’t hold you…yet I’m leaving in the morning and i don’t know when I’ll be back. I just thought I should come by.”

He thought of you in the moment and there’s neber been a day where you didn’t think about Terry, all bright eyed and imagining the what if’s. The divorce had to happen, it was the right decision but that didn’t mean you didn’t miss him.

Terry gave you the space you needed, he couldn’t keep coming around as if the whole trajectory of your relationship wasn’t altered. It never got disrespectful however you were very vocal once you returned home from work, finding every trace of him erased from the home except for pictures. A conversation was eventually had over dinner, a passionate night was shared and just like that he was gone in the morning. You feared that you would run into him in town often, since Mr. Liu’s was pretty popular and Terry’s truck was more lowkey and out the way with a good amount of locals— just how he preferred it.

You did the best staying away from that side of town for a while before you realized how silly you were being. Life didn’t have to stop because Terry was no longer in it. That was your choice. You were never the type of person to be so dependent on anybody before.

So you thought.

Being surrounded by family constantly…you never had to feel alone. Terry was the opposite, an only child raised by a single mother who was a pediatric nurse and worked nights. He found a bonus home with your family and became part of it, no questions asked.

“You’re leaving?” You quiz, “for how long?”

Terry can see you visibly flinch after the words slipped through your lips. You were trying to put up a shield or maybe even a boundary for not caring as much. Like a concerned wife should. Just like he said before, just because you’re no longer romantically involved didn’t mean he didn’t value your friendship.

“Don’t know. Heading out to Shelby Springs for Mike and a fresh start.” Terry states and it’s not like you can feel a way about that.

Inhaling air through your teeth you say, “that bama ass place?”

Terry tells, “I know. It’s a in and out type of thing. Getting a pick up and starting a business from as far as we can get from there.”

You don’t say anything but the look on your face says enough.

“…Don’t worry.” He starts.

Scoffing you reply, “who’s worried?”

“That pretty little face is.” Terry even pokes your cheek with his free hand that’s not holding the door open but you slap his hand away, leaving him smiling softly, “so…are you coming with me?”

“To Shelby springs? Hell no!” You jest with a wink, “I can go for a vegetable spring roll though.”

There’s amusement in Terry’s eyes as he nods, “that’s it?”

“I don’t like to eat heavy at night, remember?” You defend.

A hearty breakfast was always more your speed.

“Yin and Yang,” Terry smiles at a memory you don’t push for him to share because you’ve probably thought about it plenty times before whenever you had breakfast alone, “You’ll lead?”

“Course.” You give a small smile and Terry makes sure you’re all the way in before shutting the door behind you.

He follows behind you on his bike and the airport is a good distance from downtown. It’s not long before you’re trying to pull over but Terry just zooms past you, grinning back at you over his shoulder while you’re shaking your head in disbelief behind the wheel.

This was a challenge for Terry, a norm to not only test himself but you and you never backed down from a competition.

Letting out a low-whistle you comment, “Moving like that and you’re traveling to Shelby in the morning?” You say as you walk up to the doors where Terry is waiting, “you might be taking a long nap instead.”

The both of you were hardly sleepers, you with your hint of OCD and mind racing always finding something to do and Terry was always on military time even before he went into the field. He was the earliest riser and believed in that old saying, “the early bird catches the worm.” Your rest time together involved pillow talk, just breathing the same air either facing each other or you being the little spoon, and of course there were times where you both didn’t mind helping the other go to sleep.

After locking up his bike, he shifts the keys around on the ring to unlock the restaurant holding the door open, “Nah, I’ve got the best stamina in the world.”

Spinning to face Terry after he locks the door behind you two, you’re pushing your lips out with a tilt of your head once his eyes settle back on you. It’s a teasing smile and he’s leans towards you on his way by, “get your head outta the gutter.”

Laughing in between the stools, you turn to rest your elbows on the counter which Terry is behind now. He asks, “You down for some of Ken’s sake?”

“Ah…now I see.” You sigh dramatically, “you brought me here to get me drunk.”

Terry laughs, “no. I just remembered that you enjoyed it a lot back in Japan and Ken’s been experimenting thanks to his dad’s recipe all while offending Mr. Liu.”

Where you got married.

“I can’t even tell you the last time—fuck it! It’s your going away night and you should be honored that I’m here so why not?”

“How did this turn into praising yourself?” Terry jokes as he gets ready to prepare the warm beverage.

You grumble, “Somebody besides myself needs to.”

Terry flicks his spring green hues to you, “so you’re not seeing anyone?”

“It’s not the security guard.”

Terry frowns, “funny how I didn’t even mention him.”

Wagging your finger at him you respond, “I saw the way you were analyzing my friend with that high opacity setting that you call eyes.”

He pauses and snickers, “oh yeah? And what did they say?”

“You tried to give him the benefit of the doubt because that’s just how you are but…you were curious about us.”

“That was a thing then?” He quirks up a brow while you press your cheek into your fist.

“Nope!” You answer as you move to sit up on one of the chairs, “That gorgeous chocolate man is happily taken with four kids, with three of them being triplets.”

“Damn!”

“Terry.”

He laughs and then shrugs, “what? I’m only kidding…kids are blessings.”

You hummed as you watched him work for a while before he’s placing steaming sake in front of you.

“What should we toast to?” You ask, pinching at the glass before finding a safe spot of the cup to hold up, “Goodbye’s?”

Terry immediately furrows his brows, “come on now…you know that’s what I’m actually not good at. Look at this as more of an…until next time.”

Clinking your cup against his as a response, you both slowly sip at the hot sake and its sweetness is felt with its warmth. “Not bad, Ken. Not bad.”

You both share a laugh, letting the silence hit while the sake cools off some. The silence doesn’t last long before you’re both poking fun at each other and falling into more conversation. It flows even when it gets tense, blood burning as your feelings come to the surface with Terry listening to you intently and speaks to you calmly.

“When I brought up divorce the first time it was never to be manipulative…it was to save us both the heartache of this ongoing distance.”

You open your mouth to interupt but Terry stared at you from underneath your eyelashes, which makes you deeply sigh, “We grew apart but we tried. You know it and I know it. No matter how long you would have held me down it happened and I felt like you deserved better than that. I thought you felt the same way when you agreed and signed.”

It’s not like you signed right away! You actually took your sweet ass time, even when he pulled what he pulled.

“I mainly signed because you pissed me off, sneaking through the house to get your things like a thief in the night while I was at work. I should ask how you managed to do it all but then I remembered who you are.” You exhale, “I’ve got to get some hobbies besides working myself to the bone and constantly thinking about you. I should be over this already. It’s been months.”

“We did put in a solid five years of marriage though.”

Dated since senior year just for him to go off to the military three years later. The love and the effort was there but you been around a lot of military significant others at group meetings and their stories were much worse. So you tried to be thankful of the time shared but that didn’t mean you didn’t have your own sorrow too.

‘It’s not something you can just get over.’ Terry thinks.

“That we did.”

And it’s back to the eye game again and it makes your stomach feel like flipped flapjacks.

You can’t stand Terry Richmond.

He intertwined your fingers once you’re both outside. This was happening, he was leaving again and you chose to be numb about it on the outside but slightly achy on the inside. It was weird really, how you could both live in the same town and never run into each other but it still felt comforting to know that you were both out there carrying on—even if it wasn’t beside one another.

You wish he would hold you instead of your hand but Terry didn’t want to cross that line. Not when you revealed that your heart wasn’t really in it to sign the papers in the first place.

Squeezing his rough hand back before letting go, you’re aware that he’s crashing at the restaurant tonight so it’s closer in the direction he’ll be heading in the morning. Yet there’s still a part of you that wishes he would come home.

It’s early when your eyes peel open to focus on your block out curtains. They were the best investment you made (from a cousin you didn’t like—but no one can say you were never supportive) since it’s always sunny in this town and the only time you preferred light was in your kitchen and living room but you still have a feeling that it’s early morning. You sit up in bed, ears searching for any sound in your bungalow.

Your feet are sliding into your slippers, knuckles rubbing into your eyes as you peek at the clock on the nightstand to see it’s another 5am. As you’re handling your business in the bathroom across the hall from your bedroom, you can’t help that pull in your gut that brings you to the front of your home.

Flicking on the lights, you yelp at the sight of Terry sitting in the dark of the living room staring off in space.

It’s been days since you last saw him.

You pushed him to the back of your mind like you trained yourself to do. Putting your attention elsewhere and even picked up a hobby to keep yourself preoccupied besides just those long double shifts at the airport.

Now he was back and something shifted within him again that didn’t sit well to you. You carefully took a step towards him and his eyes followed you but much slower this time.

“Terry,” breathe his name, “…what’s wrong?”

He simply flips the palm of his hand over that’s resting on his knee and you reach out to place yours right in his while you move to sit next to him. Terry squeezes your hand like his life depends on it and it makes your heart rate spike, it doesn’t hurt—he’d never purposely do so—but it’s strong enough to let you know that he needs you.

“Can I get you something? Water? Those shady over easy eggs you like so much?”

That gets a snicker to escape his lips, always finding your issue with eggs to be humorous. You were not an egg person and commonly called it, “the devil’s snot,” which let Terry know you might have been spending too much time with your granny and great-aunties.

“Maybe later,” he says, “can you just be here with me?”

You don’t hesitate to cup his face once he turns his gaze to you and not this daze he seems to be in. He slowly blinks at your touch, head moving to press a kiss into the palm of your hand. You nod and he moved again to lay in you lap, hands wrapping around your hips tight that you have to remind yourself to breathe.

Something was wrong and you were determined to fix it—if he would let you. You didn’t push him and let Terry rest as you squeezed one of his shoulders being trailing your fingers across his back to the other.

That’s when you felt it underneath his shirt, a bandage of some sorts. You kept it to yourself for now, knowing he would tell you as you continued rubbing circles across his back to soothe him.

It had to have been a half hour when Terry dozed off and your legs were aching. You forgot to put a pillow down for extra cushion but Terry never had any problems using your body as his personal pillow. Some things never change.

Your attempt to weasel out of his hold was a challenge before you realized he was holding onto you on purpose. It was good to still see some humor in him due to whatever happened once he left this town.

“Be for real,” you tell him as he looks back at you, “I’m trying to get up and make breakfast and this is what we’re doing?”

Terry sits up, always the light sleeper but there’s a weight in his chest that won’t ever subside, “wanted to see if you still had it in you to get out of my hold…you need some more work.”

“I lug baggage at the airport that’s heavier.” You sass pushing yourself off the couch, “I didn’t get my stretches in yet so excuuuse me, Mr. Richmond.”

Terry mutters playfully, “sounds like excuses to me.”

“You know what? It’s too early for your irritation so why don’t you take another nap?”

Terry shakes his head as you make your way over to the fridge, “nah, I much rather watch your face while you mentally fuss over the eggs.”

“Ah so I’m your source of entertainment for you this morning am I?” You place your hands on your hips as Terry places his elbows into his knees, “let me go find my flapper dress.”

“…I wouldn’t mind seeing you in a dress again.” He admits, eyes burning into you from across the room.

Rolling your eyes you turn right back around so he couldn’t see how much of an effect that had on you. It shouldn’t by any means but here your insides were acting up!

When you turn around with the carton in your hands, you’re met with Terry’s chest that catches you by surprise. His arms lock over your shoulders as you carefully hold onto the eggs and feel him relax against you. He always smelled like leather and pine and that also hasn’t changed. Slowly you snake a free arm across his waist and lean your ear into his chest, finding his heartbeat. It’s always the most soothing thing, equivalent to your hands on his back.

You’re not sure how long you’re holding onto each other but you don’t question what this is all about or what this is for. You didn’t need to, you knew Terry Richmond and you knew when something was up, regardless of the distance that was between the two of you. He came to you in the middle of night at your job and again in the early morning. The pull was still there and perhaps it would always be that way.

He wants to help you make breakfast, after he lets go of you and you almost tell him to sit his big behind down, sensing that he was injured in more than one way but he’s not exactly a guest in this home. So he puts in the work beside you, just like old times and begins to open up about his time in Shelby springs much to your own heartache for him.

Terry arrived back home after all this time and as you sat from across each other just listening, you realized him being here was better late than never. 

☾˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚☕︎ ☾˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚☕︎ ☾˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚☕︎ ☾˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚☕︎ ☾˚ ༘

Continue with my September anthology prompts here.

[notsodelirious]

Hey, so this is the same anon who requested the sequel of Knight Grayson and Royal GN reader, and I am floating up into heaven with how you wrote EVERYTHING!💙 THE COLOR DETAILS OF GRAYSON’S SUIT YESYESYES, I WOULD ALSO IMAGINE BLACK AND BLUE. I JUST KNOW HE LOOKS GOOD IN ANYTHING!😍

PS, I saw at the bottom that you might write another sequel, and I JUST NEED THEM BOTH TO HAVE A HAPPY ENDING PLEASEEEE😭

HII I’m so glad you loved both parts!! Can I offer you a prequel?

(there’s another ask for a sequel and your request just came first but rest assured, there will be an actual sequel)

synopsis: You flee from a dinner and meet another child as you wander around

notes: SFW <3 also even though this is being posted after the two other parts, this does come a couple of years before the engagement

tags: pre-relationship, forbidden relationship, Royalty AU, Knight!Dick Grayson, 2.1k words, no use of y/n, not edited yet

Part 1 (current) | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Royal dinners weren’t all that interesting. They were fancy, grandiose, meant to be a fraction in time to parade your best, flare your beautiful blue feathers and strut before you tumbled back into the monotony of everyday. It didn’t matter how lavish your everyday was—royal dinners had to be more.

Always more.

More beauty. More poise. More polite. More mature. More obedient. More docile.

More desirable.

Nothing about you was intended to be distinct. You were to be good, an image , the ideal spawn of the Regents, a great asset. Your older brother had to prove himself a good leader, a natural born, somebody who could lead the nation. But you weren’t promised the crown. You were promised to a second or third cousin.

All of whom were sat around the long table, with their parents, and yours and your aunt and uncles and lords and ladies. It didn’t matter who any of these people were. You didn’t want to be there. You picked at the greens on your plate as dining hall roared around you, peacocks crying about their feathers.

Nobody even noticed when you slipped off your chair—not your parents who were entertaining a guest with their stories or your brother who was flirting with a married lady. You just pattered off silently, disappearing down one of the servant hallways in search of a quieter place to breathe.

Despite knowing the entire palace like the back of your hand, you were cautious at every turn, peering around corners and listening for footsteps. You didn’t want to get caught only to be dragged all the way back into the dining hall. Through every twist and turn, you grew more confident, until you were stepping out into the gardens.

You broke into a full sprint, running towards the glasshouse that sat in the middle of the gardens. It was a butterfly house, that your grandmother, the late queen, had ordered to be made for her son, your father. But neither of your parents had much interest in the delicate insects, so it became your refuge.

You pushed the door open, the heavy scent of flowers and airy warmth rushing over your skin—you were no longer bothered by the stifling air, used to the conditions butterflies needed to survive year-round. You could hear the gentle bubble of the fountain before you could see it, hidden behind tall flowering bushes.

The setting sun filtered through the glass ceiling, the fragmented colours of the bleeding sun dripping in. Some of the butterflies took off as you walked by, not settled enough to lay still.

You walked down the tiled path, humming to yourself softly, skipping from tile to tile. The place was devoid of sound and peacocks, just you, your thoughts and the fountain.

You rounded the corner, only to gasp softly. A boy your age sat on the edge of the fountain, kicking his legs idly as he looked around. He was well dressed, dark locks coifed carefully, the son of a noble family, but the knees of his trousers were dirty and mud was smudged across the russet skin of his cheek.

You took a step back, almost stumbling into a bush, sending a bloom of butterflies into the air.

The boy noticed you and beamed at you, waving as bright blue eyes crinkled.

“Hi!”

You waved back shyly, not quite sure what to say. You never spoke to people your age. Only people older: your parents, your tutors, your servants. All older.

You could only see other children from a far.

“I’m Richard! But everybody calls me Dick. What’s your name?”

You hesitated, playing with the hem of your shirt, feet shuffling on the tiles. Just as you mustered up the courage to speak, a voice cried out.

“Your Highness!” the maid yelled as she rushed up towards you. She cupped your chubby cheeks, moving you every which way to check you for injuries or blemishes. “Are you okay? Did you fall?”

“No, no I’m okay,” you said softly, pulling away from the woman’s grasp and glance at Dick, just soon enough to see the surprise on his face at the maid’s address. You supposed to every random kid who wondered into the butterfly house was royalty.

The maid caught your glance, also looking towards the other child.

She stood, and frowned as she glanced around for a guardian.

“Who are your parents, master?”

“Umm, I live with Bruce Wayne,” Dick explained as he swayed back and forth on his feet. The maid’s face twisted into something of a sneer.

You had heard whispers of the Waynes. You didn’t know much about the head of the house, Lord Wayne, but you did know that he had taken in a child, a small circus performer who had tragically lost his parents during an act. Or at least, that was what Lord Dent said anyway.

“You dirty, little brat,” the maid hissed as she tried to usher you behind her. Dick stumbled backwards, until his legs hit the fountain. Eyes wide and almost teary, he stared up at the angry woman, “What are you doing, talking to-“

“I don’t like that,” you interrupted, your small face scrunching into a frown as you disentangled yourself from the woman’s grasp. You planted yourself in front of Dick, with your chin tilted up—the way your mother did when she found her bath water too cold, or the way your father did when the wine wasn’t sweet.

But this wasn’t sweet wine and warm baths—you didn’t know much of the world but you knew that adults only spoke in that way to people they thought of inferior. You knew that kindness was hierarchically.

And she spoke to Dick like he was the scum of the earth.

“I do not like the way you speak to him.”

“Your Highness, he’s nothing but a-“

“He’s my friend,” you interrupted again. “Do not speak to him like that.”

The maid seemed to roll her words in her mouth, considering them before her face finally smoothed out and she nodded, probably deeming that it wasn’t worth the trouble.

“The king and queen request your presence,” she said softly before turning tail and dashing away.

“I’m your friend?”

You almost leapt out of your skin as you spun back around to meet Dick’s watery but elated gaze.

Your voice suddenly disappears as you nod in confirmation and he rushed forward to hug you. Not knowing what to do, you simply let him hug you, your arms limp at your side. You’d never been hugged before.

You’d never had a friend before.

How did you reciprocate either of those things?

That wouldn’t be the last time you saw Dick. The older you got, the more you were both required to show at events. To show face, to represent the family. A laborious task that got easier over time.

Easier in some aspects.

More uncomfortable in others.

“Well, I say, whoever gets to marry a beautiful thing like you is going to be very lucky indeed,” Lady Vale laughed, the champagne flute in her hand tilting dangerously. One thing you had learned very quickly was that, rich or not, drunk people were drunk. The people who stumbled out of taverns with pretty girls on their arms were no worse than the pompous fucks that drank wine until their faces flushed and they spoke their minds too loud.

You stood and smiled awkwardly, thanking Lady Vale for her uncomfortable comment that made your skin sit weirdly over your bones. Growing up had all its perks but the immediate and looming threat of being shipped off as political agreement wasn’t one of them.

Thankfully, there weren’t any nations at war, or anybody your parents were desperate for an alliance with.

So you remained thankfully celibate.

And at the mercy of drunk women who felt the need to compliment you.

It was an interesting type of hell.

“Honestly! If I was 10 years younger and—“

“Your Highness.”

Your stilted smile immediately brightened as you spun on your heel.

“Sir Grayson!”

Your knight in shining armour stood in his newly fitted uniform, dramatic and regal, befitting of a newly appointed knight.

You had been at the ceremony three months ago. You had insisted actually, arguing with your parents, pulling the odd favour here and there to be able to appear in Lord Wayne’s court for the dubbing ceremony despite the fact you were supposed to be in a foreign country, discussing external affairs.

And now stood in front of you, stood in all the lanky glory of a 20 year old man who was just finding his feet in the world, carrying his own sword at his hip.

Dick offered his arm to you which you took promptly, letting him whisk you away from Lady Vale.

“You looked to be in a bit of trouble, Your Highness,” he smiled as he whispered softly in your ear, making a shiver run down your spine. It would be a very cold day in hell before you ever admitted what effect that boy had on you.

Even torture wouldn’t be enough to pull the words out of your mouth, to make you confess how his smile made your heart skip a beat, and his gentle touch made you melt in his grasp like butter.

You thought at first it was just a passing fancy; that puberty had struck and you had grown attracted to the only person who showed you consistent kindness and empathy.

But as time went you realised that wasn’t the case. Or no longer the case. It didn’t matter because you had a big massive crush on him and nowhere to put it.

“My very own saviour,” you joked as you jostled him little, making him chuckle. Fuck, he was so pretty when he laughed. He was pretty when he did anything. It was infuriating.

“How about we ditch this party?”

You glanced around quickly before you nodded, surprising laughter as Dick practically whisked you off your feet to usher you away. You grabbed his hand as soon as the ballroom was out of sight and lead him down winding corridors.

It didn’t matter how long Dick had been living amongst the aristocracy—the wonder that twinkled in his eyes as you ran through the palace was endearing. Once upon a time, he would have asked you about all the portraits lining the walls but he knew the stories just as well as you did. You lead him around until you were stepping out into the chilly night.

Dick let go of your hand to wrap his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close into your side to ward off some of the chill as you walked briskly through the gardens. The door to the glasshouse creaked quietly as you pushed it open.

The only light to illuminate your path was the moon, full and heavy, like a dollop of cream in the night sky.

“Fuck, it’s really cold,” you mumbled softly, causing Dick to chuckle softly—even in the butterfly house, the temperature dropped enough to have you rubbing your arms for friction and warmth.

“What foul language, Your Highness,” Dick said teasingly as he squeezed your shoulder. You came to a stop before the fountain, listening to its soft gurgle as water bubbled up and cascaded down.

“You won’t tell anybody,” you laughed as you looked up at him and you suddenly wished the moon would disappear so you wouldn’t have to see his face—pretty and open and kind, his face was too gentle for somebody who had seen so many horrors.

You’d never told Dick how much you admired him, for trudging forward, for meeting the world with a smile even when it spat at him and kicked him down. You wished you could, but when you opened your mouth, your words got stuck in your throat.

“You’re right,” Dick said softly, “I won’t tell a soul. I would never.”

“Promise?”

You don’t know what came over you as but you reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind his ear. Subconsciously, Dick tilted his head in the direction of your hand and you cupped his cheek, brushing your thumb under his eye.

You heard his breath catch in his chest just as you craned your neck upwards and his arm dropped from your shoulders to wrap around your waist instead.

The kiss was tender, considerate. You parted almost as soon as your lips met—not rushed, you lingered close, breathing each other’s air as you collected your minds and hearts.

“You won’t tell anybody about this either, will you?”

“I promise.”

You pulled back down for another kiss. Insistent, yearning, an apology for having taken so long. He held you close, as close as he could—you loved him, as much as you could.

The party was long forgotten—whatever ire your parents had in store for you would wait for tomorrow. That night, you became Dick’s—with only the moon and slumbering butterflies as your witnesses, you devoted yourself to each other, a long lasting promise.

•─────⋅☾⊱♰⊰☽⋅─────•

a/n: finally have a beginning <3 last part currently in the process of being written and hopefully will be done within the upcoming week

also genuinely don’t want to exclude anybody who’s been reading this mini-series and doesn’t like nsfw content but i fear unless somebody speaks up, sad angsty sex is up next (still gn tho <3)

[keerysfreckles]

Can you make an Aphrodite reader x Luke fic where she’s has low self esteem and he’s like your so beautiful!??? And she’s like stop your lying to me :( and he kisses her idk?

pretty isn't pretty — luke castellan

pairing: luke castellan x aphrodite fem!reader

warnings: mentions of self doubt and self esteem issues

a/n: oh how i've missed writing luke fics

masterlist !

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

being the daughter of aphrodite was hard for y/n. her mother always made her feel pressured as if she wasn't enough. that she wasn't pretty enough or liked enough.

that was until luke castellan came around. luke and y/n started dating less than a month ago when luke had saved her from a hellhound trying to enter the camp. he helped her to the infirmary and kept her company. the rest was history.

luke made y/n feel seen, adored. however she couldn't help but feel self conscious about her own looks when she saw her newest sister walking around camp. she had gorgeous blonde hair that flowed down her back like a waterfall. there were freckles placed so delicately on her skin, it made y/n's insides twist. her eyes were the most beautiful shade of blue anyone has ever seen, and her lips were as red as cherries.

y/n felt like a dud. she felt so small and unworthy of aphrodite's name when the new camper had gotten claimed.

what did y/n do when she felt like this?

she locked herself in her cabin all day.

yes it wasn't the most practical option, but she felt as if she had no other choice.

a knock on the cabin door brought her out of her demolishing thoughts.

"come in," she mumbles against her pillow.

luke walks inside the cabin and is instantly confused once he sees y/n curled under the covers of her bunk bed.

"sweetheart? you okay?" he kneals down besides the bed, and brushes the hair out of y/n's face.

"you know that new aphrodite camper?" luke nods, "i feel like my mother hates me."

luke's eyebrows only furrow as y/n covers her head with her blanket.

"i'm gonna need you to elaborate love."

y/n sits up with the blanket pooling at her waist. "i feel like the gods made a mistake or something. i don't belong in this cabin. i don't belong here. i'm not pretty enough to be in this cabin. i'm not smart enough to be in athena's. i'm not strong enough to be in hephaestus'. luke i don't know what i'm doing here."

"hey, hey no. we talked about this. you're more than enough, okay? you do belong here love. you belong in this cabin. you belong at camp. and you belong with me."

luke was now sitting on the bed facing his girlfriend. he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss upon her lips.

"i hate seeing you like this," his words are soft as the air brushes against y/n's. "i just can't believe you don't see what i see."

y/n moves her hands to fiddle with the curls at the back of luke's neck. "what do you see?"

luke lets out an airy chuckle.

"i see the most beautiful girl sitting right in front of me."

"luke," y/n cuts off her boyfriend with a groan.

"no, you didn't let me finish. i truly do think you're beautiful. not only your looks, but your soul. the most beautiful soul i have ever met."

he leans forward again and kisses the girl. this time she kisses back, making the kiss longer than the first one.

"what did i do to deserve you?"

luke shrugs with a smug look on his face, "oh i don't know, guess you couldn't resist my charm."

[crushmeeren]

♡ Master List Link

♡ Gojo / Fem Reader

♡ Warnings; age gap (you’re 24, Gojo is 40), major daddy kink, praise kink, vaginal sex, anal sex,

♡ Note; God, I hate myself for writing this. Alas, I couldn’t help it. It’s probably about 1000 ish words? It’s an AU where Gojo is the definition of a single DILF and you’re his new babysitter.

When you first got recommended to babysit for Gojo Satoru, you thought nothing of it. You needed the money and you had a great track record with other families and there was no obvious reason to decline. Plus, you’d heard nothing but good things about the man in the circle of moms, but you’d never met him yourself.

You never paid attention to the gossip of how beautiful he is, brushing it off as exaggeration of bored housewives and truthfully it didn’t matter to you either way. The only thing that felt a smidge out of place was being informed that Gojo is a single dad.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that inherently,you just routinely deal with the mothers. Whatever, no skin off your back, it’d be fine. A decent change of pace.

To your immense satisfaction, it was. It is. Gojo has the most wonderful four year old little boy, Megumi. You love that kid as if he’s your own and he adores you.

However, the moms were clearly not being dramatic. Gojo is, to your disdain, angelic. The way his snow white hair frames his face, how his eyes are as crystal blue as the ocean and not to mention he’s tall as a mountain. To put it plainly, you were fucked.

You weren’t surprised when your thoughts abruptly turned down a sexual path. Hell, he’s a DILF if there ever was one. You couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty, you’re not here to lust after your boss, this is your job.

You used every fiber of your being, every ounce of willpower to try and squash those thoughts and lock them away never to see daylight again.

Nevertheless you couldn’t get used to his god like stature. You’re embarrassed to admit it was made infinitely worse by the fact that he’s pushing forty, and you’re only twenty four.

When you gained that piece of helpful knowledge, your stomach burned. You weren’t able to meet his eyes for a week.

It’s not your fault you have a fucking daddy kink.

And so, after almost a year of your pathetic, overwhelming pining for the man, your heart dropped to your stomach when you found out Gojo harbored similar fantasies for you.

He had invited you stay late one night after Megumi had gone to sleep. He told you he wanted to watch a movie, drink some wine and relax. You had agreed because you’re well past the point of friends now and it was the weekend, so what would be the harm?

The two of you had drank enough wine to loosen your lips. It wasn’t enough to become sloppy, but it was just the right amount for the lines of what’s appropriate to blur. So much so that you started calling him Satoru and flushing every time you did.

It was enough for Satoru to drunkenly admit he’s been lusting after you for months. For him to almost forget he was telling his deep dark secret to the person it conveniently was about.

You sat side by side on his fluffly couch, thighs pressed together. Your head got fuzzy and his was the same. Satoru had his let his head drop onto the backrest with a thunk, pretty eyes closed off from the world while you admired how sinfully long and lean his legs really were.

“I’m a terrible person,” he mumbled out of nowhere, brows pinching as he kept his eyes shut. You hummed in question, focusing intently on his snowy eyelashes. “I think, no I know I have feelings for you. I should feel guiltier than I do for wanting to have sex with someone so much younger than me, but I don’t,” he said with an airy sigh, shifting his head and snapping his eyes open to gaze at you.

Warmth instantly curled in your lower belly and your eyebrows shot up to your hairline. An involuntary flash of arousal blistered through your limbs and left you to unsubtly clench your thighs.

It was too easy to admit that you felt the same way, to admit you had touched yourself thinking about him. Your body went white hot when Satoru leaned in too close. You’d turned your gaze away and Satoru giggled at the shy action.

“You’re so cute!” He gushed. “Don’t worry baby girl, I stroke my cock daydreaming about how your pussy would feel around me. About how much I could show you. I bet you don’t have that much experience do you sweetheart?” Satoru taunted, wolfish grin on his lips.

You shook your head no, shifting your weight when he trailed the soft pads of his fingers over the sensitive crease of your elbow and tickled the underside of your bicep. The heady tension between you became unbearable.

You’re not sure who leaned in first for the kiss, you’re only aware that now you’re occupying Satoru’s bed, wine long forgotten. You’ve both lost your clothes along the way and you’re tangled in his blankets.

Satoru presses a large, sweaty hand over your mouth to try and keep your whines at bay as you desperately try not to wake up Megumi while Satoru urges you to ride his cock.

Satoru reclines on the headboard, keeping his knees bent and feet planted so his thighs act as a cradle for you to rock against.

The jerk is making you put in the work for your third orgasm, thighs burning as you chase your high. He was eating your pussy not even five minutes ago and now you’re bouncing in his lap.

Satoru starts to trail his free hand down your spine, following the knobs of bone down to the crease of your ass.

A startled cry of his name presses into his palm when he gently pushes the pad of his pointer finger against the pink, taught skin of your asshole. The unfamiliar sensation causes your movements to falter.

Satoru’s eyes light up, as if he’s just tried a new sweet and loved it. He tilts his head at your reaction, shaking it condescendingly, tsking at you when you stop moving.

“That’s not the right name, is it princess?” He teases, applying more pressure to your rim. Your eyes flutter shut and you shake your head no, a low moan escaping you. “Tell me what it is,” he demands, blue eyes piercing as he removes his hand from your mouth so you can answer.

“Daddy,” you murmur, nails biting into his shoulders while he continues to loosen the ring of muscle. You’ve come to a stand still in his lap, unused to having your ass played with.

“That’s it, what a good girl for daddy,” Satoru purrs. “Say babygirl, has anyone ever fucked your ass?” He muses, raising one eyebrow and biting the tip of his tongue.

“No daddy.”

His cock twitches in response.

“You gonna let daddy be the first one?” He presses harder on your rim, the tip of his finger sinking in. You yelp, tensing slightly. “I swear daddy will make you cum like you wouldn’t believe.”

You’re quite anxious about the pain, but ultimately you trust Satoru. You nod your head, happy to give him this first. He grins as if he’s going to eat you alive, the hand not in your ass squeezing your waist harshly.

Quickly Satoru helps you out of his lap, manhandling you until your cheek rests on the sheets and your ass is in the air. Satoru steps off the bed to grab lube from nearby.

Your belly fills with butterflies, pussy clenching when you admire the way he moves. He’s tall, lean, and gut wrenchingly beautiful.

He’s looming behind you before you can even register it, rubbing your lower back comfortingly as he delicately slips one lubed finger past the tight ring of muscle.

Your breath hitches, fingers curling around the sheets shakily. It’s uncomfortable and Satoru soothes you with encouraging words.

“Shh, it’s okay baby girl, I promise it’s going to get so much better.” He pumps his finger in and out until you relax. You take a deep, steadying breath, releasing it as Satoru eases his middle finger in alongside the first, all the way to his knuckle.

“Daddy!” You cry out, forgetting to be quiet. The stretch is overwhelming, a terrible mixture of a dull ache and barely there pleasure.

Satoru bends over your back, tangling his fingers in your hair and shoving your face into the mattress.

“Hush,” he admonishes you, scissoring his fingers in a warning. You nod quietly, close to sobbing into the mattress below. He hums in approval, releasing your hair as you keep yourself muzzled.

You don’t even notice the third finger and after a few minutes of stretching your rim to his satisfaction, the pleasure starts to drown out the pain.

You protest when he finally decides to pull his fingers out, the empty sensation almost unbearable now. Satoru chuckles, lining himself up.

“Don’t tell me you’re whining now, after all that complaining you did?” He teases, rubbing his tip over your soft, warm skin. You fold your arms under your head, resting there and ignoring him.

It doesn’t phase Satoru. He grips the base of his shaft and applies increasing pressure until the tip pops past your rim. The initial sharp sting makes you tense up, before relaxing as it fades to a dull ache.

Satoru produces a twisted version of a whine, carving a space in your ass until his curly white pubic hair brushes your skin.

“Okay?” Satoru asks, panting lightly and petting your lower back, straining with the effort to stay still.

“I’m okay,” you reassure him, even if you’re not completely sure you are. You start to clench rhythmically around the thick cock splitting you, involuntarily trying to get him out of you.

Satoru sucks in a breath through his teeth. He’s lightheaded from the pleasure, feeling like all the blood in his body is currently in his cock.

Satoru holds your hips, starting with a teasing backwards pull until only his tip remains. He smoothly pushes all the way in and repeats that steady motion until it suddenly clicks in your mind.

The pleasure from anal sex is divine, absolutely brain melting as he rocks his hips back and forth, creating a smoother, faster paced rhythm. It’s intense, unlike anything you’ve ever felt before.

A warmth burns violently behind your navel, as if you’ve never felt pleasurebefore. It’s so fucking good, you immediately know you’ll be addicted to it.

“Daddy,” you can’t help but moan. You’re still attempting to be quiet, but it’s proving impossible. You want Satoru’s attention.

“What baby?” He asks breathlessly. He moans as he watches his cock disappear into your puffy rim while he waits for your answer.

“I’m gonna cum,” you warn him, stifling your moans into the sheets as they increase in volume. Satoru laughs meanly behind you, but he thrusts harder at your words.

“Already?” He questions incredulously. “That was fast.” He sounds smug, tilting his hips so he’s hitting your g-spot through the thin wall separating him from your pussy.

Your pulse thunders in your ears, going silent as your orgasm shakes you to your core. The blood in your veins thrums at a dizzying pace. You feel all the thoughts in your head fizzle out to pinpoint on the pleasure as Satoru fucks you through it.

“Oh god. Yes, fuck — just like that,” Satoru snarls through clenched teeth, spanking you harshly.

Your thighs start to shake when Satoru doesn’t let up in his pace, but you’re starting to float down from your highand you’re getting overstimulated.

“Satoru,” you gasp, trying not to scream as he chases his own orgasm. “I can’t take much more,” you plead, trying to move forward. He just giggles, gripping your hips and pulling you back into his thrusts, he knows you don’t mean it.

“Just a little longer princess,” he coos, voice wrecked. You nod, taking deep breaths that rattle your chest.

Satoru throws all his weight into the next few thrusts, forcing a wail out of you that neither of you pay any mind to.

“Fuck fuck fuck, you’re gonna make me cum,” Satoru whines, yanking his cock out of you, causing your rim to clench painfully around air.

He fists his cock twice before he lets out a strangled sound. You feel the long ribbons of warm cum all over your back, some even reaching up to your shoulder blades.

Satoru lets go of his cock and sits back on his heels, breathing heavily as he calms his heart rate. He reaches forward and tugs your legs out from under you so you can collapse onto your belly.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt so satiated in your life. Every inch of you feels like jello.

Neither of you speak for a moment, soaking up the silence as you collect your thoughts. You still can’t breathe yet.

Eventually, Satoru pats your ass twice before rising and hunting down a damp wash cloth to clean you with. You lay there limp as he wipes away the mess he made of you.

He pokes your rib playfully when you don’t move a muscle. Twitching, you open one eye to look at him.

“Did I fuck your brains out?” He teases, giggling. You hum in affirmation, nodding your head. He laughs out loud this time, head tilting backwards.

A soft knock on Satoru’s door makes the two of you jump two feet off the bed. Your heart skips a beat as you raise up to sit on your knees.

“Daddy?” Megumi’s tiny voice calls out softly. “Are you in there?” You and Satoru share a panicked look. Thank God you locked the door.

“What is it my love? Are you okay?” Satoru calls out fondly. You’re shocked he’s able to keep a steady voice.

“Come lay with me daddy, I had a bad dream,” Megumi whines, little sniffles coming through the door. His sad voice makes your heart squeezes in your chest. Satoru’s eyebrows scrunch in concern.

“I’m sorry you had a bad dream Gumi, I’ll be there in a second to lay with you bubba, go lay back down,” Satoru soothes.

“Mkay.” Megumi’s soft footsteps fade away as he returns to his room. Satoru looks at you guiltily, but you give him a sweet smile.

“Go, it’s okay. Poor Gumi, I hope we didn’t wake him,” you whisper. Satoru gazes at you as if he’s in love, leaning forward and kissing your forehead.

“I’ll be back, then we have to discuss how to tell Megumi we’re dating tomorrow. He’s gonna be surprised to see you so early.” Satoru pulls on a pair of loose sweats as he speaks, heading towards his door.

Something warm and sweet settles in your heart knowing that Satoru already assumes you’re dating. Not as if you have any complaints about that.

You watch the door shut behind him and you shift around, pulling on the t-shirt Satoru was wearing. You snuggle up under his sheets and promptly pass out.

You sleep peacefully knowing Satoru will return soon to wrap you up and hold you tight.

[aweina]

ᰔ. a gift for you : sub-zero. scorpion + smoke.

there was an array of young flowers tucked between the glossy leaves, warm paper lanterns guide you through the maze of flora. there’s water colored butterflies sipping the nectar of your favorite flowers, the scent of honey and earth soothing your nerves. bi-han has gifted you a greenhouse. considering the fact that the lin kuei palace contains lots of open land to train on — it was fitting to add something less grueling and tense. he directly thought about you, encased with delicate, floral pieces as you beam at the variations of flowers and other greenery you always mentioned during your afternoon walks. it started off with short nods, listening intently to your frantic words with amusement. then he’d silently gift you engraved pots filled with young flowers and all the needed tools to build a lively collection of plants. that didn’t seem enough. the grandmaster always had urges for something more, something greater, that he also applied it to you or rather, your fondness over flowers. since the freezing climate wasn’t so fitting for sun enriched plants, constructing a greenhouse would be fitting and also, fulfilling for him to do in secret. it was hard work to pull it off. there were times you nearly spotted it in the middle of its development and your suspicion towards bi-han’s sudden interest in flora made him sweat icicles, but it was all worth seeing your radiant smile in the end. for now on, he’ll find you within the maze of bustling blossoms — individually nurturing them with love and care and amusingly talking to the clusters of flora like little children. at that the thought of your happiness, he smiled under his mask.

the parchment felt light and airy in your grasp, but much more of them were tied with a silk string — each individually sealed with set red wax, blotches of little lighthearted notes and tea stains smudged along the handcrafted envelopes. they smelt faintly of sweet herbs and dried ink. kuai liang has gifted you a collection of love letters. it all started when he met you, his usual writing was put off for his lin kuei duties, leaving the pens to dry off and the stacks of parchment to pile dust bunnies. then your gentle presence gave him a boost to write small notes in the middle of the night. the adorning look you would give him would make him write paragraphs with such ease, leaving a shade of blotched blue all over his palm. then your contagious laughter and assuring gaze made a mountain of neatly crafted love letters in the corner of his usual tidy room. along the ink read his first impressions of you, the beautiful details that you missed about yourself, lengths of innocent admiration, and millions of confessions about how much he loves you. each letter had little surprises tucked between the pages. a frail cherry blossom petal when you both first trained together. colored origami animals that you spotted during missions. he kept them all as a sign of his love — dedication towards you. watching you carefully unfold himself with gentle hands, he safely locks the image of your big grin and droplets of joyful tears in his memory for another love letter.

the glimmering of delicate light reflected over the bare walls, adding a pretty iridescence on the wallpaper. clashes of soft yellow, with pastel greens and pinks made your skin twinkle under the sun. the silhouette of a dainty butterfly floated through the air. tomas has gifted you a sun catcher. the warm village of fengjian had pockets of small businesses. crowded bookstores, fragile porcelain shops, and fresh produce stands. he didn’t have any personal feelings towards these stores, rather he wanted something more personal — made with his own hands and heart. that’s when he finds a workshop filled with dozens of personal projects, unfinished ceramics and even glass bracelets. then he eyes a mesmerizing piece, a sun catcher. it reminded him how you seem to unintentionally fill every room you’re in with light, how you always impressively shined through the bitter ash of his magic — winning every spar between the two of you. the process of making a sun catcher was meticulous, melting down metal small rods together, inserting colored glass with clear precision but with very nervous hands. tomas finishes off the butterfly piece with a string of patterned beads that he collected when you both visited different villages. a crescent moon dangling at the end to represent him — your opposite, your midnight protector. there’s instant relief when you beamed ever so brightly at your handcrafted gift. he helped you hang it by your window, the glimmer of reflection blinding the both of you for a second. then he sits with you, explaining the meaning of each individual bead and glass — while your smile brightens the whole room.

add. note : the alt title would’ve been ‘if he wanted to he would’, but i’ll refrain from men slander for now (`ー´) …

[plzu]

TASM!Peter Parker x Fem!Plus-Size Reader

summary: boardwalk & amusement park date with peter (college-aged peter & reader) warnings: inaccurate depictions of what it's like if a ferris wheel gets struck by lightning idk, fluff & hurt/comfort (reader is insecure) a/n: end of summer fic that i decided to use to write a plus-size reader who will never be too heavy to be carried away by spider-man :] because why are characters with super strength always paired with dainty damsels? if they can lift cars they can carry my overweight ass ♡ wordcount: 4.3k

Peter Parker is a Boy and a Friend, but he is not your Boyfriend. Something that's usually pretty easy to remember, but then there are times where it's just the two of you, shoulders bumping against each other, when the sparks between you feel static and sweet and not-so-platonic.

This breezy summer afternoon has been one of those days, Peter's singular attention making your heart flutter up a storm. Unfortunately, it was clashing with the insecurity that had reared its ugly head the past week, and had kept you locked away in your bedroom, avoiding mirrors and people and watching mind-numbing television. Peter had shown up after one too many days of not seeing you, and successfully coaxed you out of your room with the unfairly intoxicating combination of his puppy-dog brown eyes and stupidly charming smile. You're almost embarrassed by how hard it is to say no to him.

“I’m not gonna let you let these last few weeks of summer go to waste.” He said, stepping through the threshold of your bedroom.

You'd let a hundred summers go to waste while waiting for sweater weather if it meant being able to hide your body from everyone. Instead of admitting this to Peter, of course, you just grumbled that Fall's better.

“True,” he agreed, but then crossed your bedroom to crack open the blinds, letting sunlight spill through. “But we shouldn’t wait for a whole other season to get some fresh air, Sunshine.”

Turns out the fresh air Peter was referring to was salt-licked and sweet, ice cream cones in hand as you strolled the creaky boardwalk of Coney Island. It really was a beautiful day out. The summer swelter had finally given way to delicious cool breezes that ruffled the loose hem of your t-shirt. The fattest, fluffiest clouds lazily drifted across the piercing blue sky, cotton white and lovely.

It's the kind of day that should be spent outside. Peter was absolutely unequivocally correct about that. It makes you grateful to him for once again dragging you out of your comfort zone. He’s good at that. Coming to the rescue when you start to disappear in on yourself. Usually, it melts away your insecurities, or at least pushes them to the back of your mind until they’re easy to forget. 

Today, though, this outing feels more like a date than your other hangouts with Pete, not helped by how nice he looks in his light and airy button down, buttons undone to reveal a casual white t-shirt underneath, nor by the massive crush you’ve had on him since pretty much the day you met, or the fact that you’ve secretly romanticized boardwalks and amusement parks and beaches (despite not being a fan of being at the beach, and despite this beach being in Brooklyn). So you keep shying away from eye contact, giggling nervously, tripping over your words or just keeping uncharacteristically quiet. 

“I know what’ll put a smile on your face,” Peter says, leading you towards the section of the park with all the games and weaving between raucous children. 

“Am I- am I not smiling?” 

Peter makes a show of squinting back at you and your unsure mouth, head tilting left and right with uncertainty. “Hmm…” He pauses, sucks in air between his teeth. “I think we can do better, Sunshine.” The nickname is punctuated by a brief and gentle brush of his knuckle beneath your chin that surely would have set you aflame had a breeze not taken pity on you in that moment. 

Peter settles you both in front of some game that involves basketball hoops. Bright, colorful plushies both big and small line the walls inside the game booth, touted as potential prizes. 

Peter notices you eyeing them “‘M gonna win you the biggest one.”

“What?” You laugh. “Peter, no, we took the train here.”

He’s already giving the guy working the booth the ticket needed for playing. “If whole Mariachi bands with their instruments can stuff themselves into trains, I’m sure we can handle a giant teddy bear.”

You roll your eyes affectionately. “Okay, fine then. I want the giant Spider-Man.”

Peter breathes out a laugh, eyes falling away from yours. “Thought you’d want something cuter.”

“Spider-Man’s cute,” you defend. “Like, when he does his little flips and shit?”

Still not making eye contact, he throws his head back in a disbelieving laugh, shaking his head as he readies the basketball in his hands. “If you say so.”

He makes every shot, because of course he does, and wins you one large Spider-Man plush. He also succeeds in putting a large smile on your face, all your anxieties effectively slipping away so you can fully enjoy yourself as you clutch the big soft toy to your body. Jokes and laughter peel out of you as Peter takes you to play more games, and it feels so easy being with Peter in a sea of people.

“Pete,” you say, watching him after leaving the game area. “It’s not fair how good at everything you are.”

“Whaddaya mean? I’m not good at everything.”

“You’re stupidly smart, and even good at basketball, apparently,” you explain, referencing the game that had won him the giant plush you’ve been dragging along. “And you make it all look so easy.” You don’t mention that he’s cute and possibly the kindest person you’ve ever met, because that would be veering dangerously into flirty territory, and you were not about to flirt with your best friend.

Peter studies your face as he leans over the boardwalk railing, propped up by his elbows. You mirror his pose, except the plush is squished between you and the railing, your cheek resting comfortably atop plush Spider-Man’s big adorable head. Something sad passes over Peter’s expression before he finally looks away, towards the beach, where the clouds rolling in from the horizon are darker. “Nah, ‘m not good at everything,” he repeats, quieter this time. 

You frown at the minute shift in mood. But just as you open your mouth to say something, he inhales a big breath and faces you again, smile back on his face. “Y’know, I wasn’t even popular in high school. Middle school too, matter of fact.”

You raised your head, disbelieving. “Shut up. Don’t lie to me, Peter.”

He laughs. “I swear! Girls barely knew I existed. I was bullied a lot.” He shrugged, standing straighter as he recalled his childhood. “Typical jock/nerd dynamic.”

You take in Peter’s tall, lean form. Standing at practically six-feet-tall with warm brown eyes, you can hardly imagine Peter going unnoticed by girls. All this time, you’ve been picturing a Peter from high school surrounded by giggling girls twirling their hair, fist-bumping boys in the halls. Not getting shoved into lockers or getting his head shoved into toilets.

Wait.

“Don’t tell me they gave you swirlies.”

“Once, actually, yeah.”

“Oh, Peter,” you gasp, hand coming up to cover your mouth. “Is that why your hair looks like that?”

Peter grins and lightly bumps your shoulder with his. “Hah, hah, very funny. I take it you were a bully, then? Insulting me like that?”

You continue like that, teasing and laughing and discussing the upcoming semester. The sunlight dwindles, sky becoming overcast as more clouds slowly roll in, becoming flat and gray. The temperature begins to cool as you make your way towards the rides, but you'd hardly notice with the warmth that surrounds you in Peter's presence.

The ferris wheel completely steals your attention from your conversation as you pass by it, head inclining to stare wistfully up at it. The green spindles and bright red lights outlining it illuminate splendidly against the backdrop of graying skies. You sigh, and then promptly come to a halt when you bump into Peter's chest.

“Oh! That's- I'm sorry,” you stammer, giggle, and then mentally chastise yourself for giggling as your cheeks fill with warmth.

“No, no, that's alright.” Peter brushes off your apology. “Ferris wheel's more interesting than me, I get it.” His playful tone eases away the sudden nervousness.

“I'm sorry,” you laugh, “I just- well, I've never been on a ferris wheel.” You look back at it, longing. “Don't laugh, but... I always thought it'd be romantic.”

Maybe it's all the books you've read that made you a little bit hopeless in that regard, but you've always fantasized about this exact kind of date. A couple on the ferris wheel, in their own little world overlooking the rest of the park or the ocean or the city -- wherever ferris wheels tend to be, you weren't picky about the view.

Suddenly, Peter has your hand in his. You’re too caught up in the feelings of his fingers against your own before you realize he’s leading you towards the Wonder Wheel. 

“Peter..?”

“C’mon, before they kick everyone out of the park.”

You’re not sure what he means until you realize there’s no one in line. So caught up were you in your little bubble that you hadn’t noticed people had started to leave, the crowd from earlier dwindling to a few stubborn stragglers. 

Peter pays for the ride and marches you both up to the sole employee letting the last of the ride-goers off. The man looks up at you both, boredly chewing gum, then eyes the sky.

“Looks like it’s gonna rain,” he says. 

“C’man, man. We paid.” Peter replies, and his tone takes on the familiar puppy-dog pleading that usually gets him his way. “Jus’ one ride around? Please?”

You bite your lip as you watch this guy’s resolve start to waver. 

The man sighs. “That’s usually how it works, kid.” His shoulders are already starting to drop, though, but he’s still got some fight left in him, apparently, because he shocks you by saying, “I’m sure there’s other spots you can make out with your girlfriend.”

“Oh, that’s not-” you stammer, “-we’re not-”

“Please?” Peter cuts you off, more persistent, a little pathetic, and incredibly fucking cute. “They haven’t even announced that the rides are closing down. We can still go on.”

You feel your whole face heat up over the fact that he didn’t correct either the girlfriend thing or the making out thing.

The guy hesitates, as if hoping for a perfectly timed announcement at that moment. When nothing but the cawing of seagulls fills the silence, he finally gives in and lets you on the ride.

Peter helps you into one of the stationary carts, not wanting to risk swinging back and forth with the wind starting to pick up. You settle in with Little Spidey--the nickname you decided on for your new plush--while Peter takes the seat on the other side.

The incline to the top isn’t as slow as you thought it’d be, but it’s still a soothing pace. You watch, mesmerized, through the bars of the Ferris Wheel as it brings you up and up, higher over the park. When you go to swivel your head to see the other side, you catch Peter looking at you from his seat across, head cocked to the side, gentle smile gracing his face. 

His attention immediately makes butterflies lurch in your stomach. It dawns on you that you are trapped in a metal box with Peter, and the space feels snug and intimate but it makes you feel too big. You're all too aware of the way your thighs spread out beneath you, and all you want to do is shrink in on yourself.

Peter, perceptive, notices the nervousness creeping back in. “Hey, you alright? Not afraid of heights, are you?”

You glance up into his eyes, can see the dark brush of his eyelashes and count the stray freckle and moles that dot his face, and it immediately feels overwhelming. “No, 'm fine,” you mumble, dropping your gaze.

You haven't felt this nervous around Peter since you first met nearly a year ago, his good looks and easy charm making his attention all too much to bear. It was very easy for feelings to develop when he kept talking to you, seeking you out for study sessions and pizza dates, consistently lifting you up whenever you felt down. Sure, he’d disappear sometimes or show up late others, but he still showed up. It’s what matters most to you.

“I don’t embarrass you, do I?” 

Despite the lighthearted tone, your eyes widen at the change in topic and you look back at him. “What? No, why would you say that?”

He’s grinning at you, but his hand comes up to his chest in mock pain. “Just that you were so quick to deny being my girlfriend down there. It kinda hurt.”

You try to ignore the way your heart skips a beat. “N-no, of course not! I just didn’t want you to feel embarrassed.”

The smile falls from his face, replaced by a confused knit of his brow. “Why would I be embarrassed?”

You snort. “Are you serious? Look at me.”

“I am lookin’ at you.” He’s frowning, utterly earnest.

“I’m jus’ not, like… girlfriend material, y’know? It’s happened before. Usually whatever guy I’m hangin’ out with gets all annoyed that anyone would even suggest such a thing.” You chuckle, trying to keep the mood light, trying to keep the pain out of your voice. It doesn’t hurt much now, anyway; Time doesn’t heal all wounds, but it can dull it some.

Something furious flashes across Peter’s face, darkening his eyes. You don’t think you’ve ever seen this expression on him, the clench of his jaw, the quiet seething in the knit of his brow. He’s angry.

You’re about to apologize for upsetting him when he beats you to it. “I’m sorry anyone ever made you feel that way. Sounds like they were lousy, didn’t appreciate what an amazing person you are. Smart and funny and beautiful.”

The ferris wheel slows to a stop, leaving you cradled at the top of the Wonder Wheel, finding it difficult to catch your breath under the weight of Peter’s earnest gaze. Sometimes, like right now, his attention makes you ache because of how badly you always want it, convincing yourself that you don’t deserve it, or that it’s some kind of joke, too good to be true. Having Peter as just a friend is already special, but that craving for something more always kicks in and it feels like drowning.

“Pete,” you breathe, “that’s not fair.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“You can’t- you can’t say stuff like that to me. It’s too nice.”

“But it’s true.”

When did he get so close? He’s leaning forward, forearms propped on his thighs, and you somehow find yourself pulled in by the gravity of his sincerity. You lose yourself in his eyes, chocolate quartz and tender. The scent of the sunscreen you made him wear fills the space between you, all warmed out by the day, baked into his skin. His lips are slightly parted, practically inviting…

Sudden bright light fills the sky, making the two of you rip away from each other. You look out and see the storm coming in heavy from out on the beach, rain pelting into the ocean and onto the now-empty shores. The clap of thunder that follows rattles you, making the ferris wheel shutter.

When you look back at Peter with wide-eyed terror, he’s attempting to peer down through the cage of the gondola. “Okay, he’s- he’s gonna get us down.” He looks back at you, attempts to soothe with a smile as the gondola jerks forward towards its unhurried descent. 

“Here.” Peter leans forward to grab Little Spidey and places him in your arms. “Jus’ hold on to that and we’ll be off this thing before y’know it.” He goes back to looking through the grate, fingers of one hand curled around the metal frame.

You automatically clutch the plush to your chest but then immediately feel overcome with flustered embarrassment. “Wh- I’m not a little girl, Peter!”

“What?” He glances away from the storm to look at you. “No, no I know,” he scrambles. “It’s just, you looked so scared-”

“I’m fine! I’m not scared-”

Lightning strikes down right then next to the ferris wheel, much too close for comfort, and you scream and flinch and bury your face against Little Spidey.

“Shit.” 

The ferris wheel shutters and moans to a stop. You peek up and notice the lights of the machine are no longer on. Peter looks agitated as he stares down through the grate. Your heart drops -- you’re stuck. You’re stuck in the middle of the storm, suspended however-many feet in the air -- at least a hundred -- and you don’t think you’ve ever been more scared in your life. 

Well, you think, looking out at the rest of the park, at the brutal skies, and then finally at Peter’s profile. At least the view’s not so bad.

Another clap of thunder rumbles overhead and around you, rain beating down mercilessly against your encasement. The ride creaks. Something’s wrong. You can tell by the change in Peter’s eyes. He may have been somewhat nervous this whole time, trying to put on a brave face for you, but there was a certain flash of fear that dashed across his eyes just now. You get the sense he’s realized something you haven’t yet. 

Maybe it’s that you were gonna die here. 

“No, we’re not dying here!”

Oh. You hadn’t realized you said that out loud. 

The unmistakable sound of groaning metal makes your heart stop. The gondola lurches slightly, slowly starts to tilt to the side. Did it come loose?

You shout Peter’s name through the downpour.

Despite the little space, Peter positions himself to stand at a bit of a crouch between the seats of the cart. One hand holds onto the metal slats while the other presses against the ceiling above for leverage, and he starts to kick at the door of the gondola. Once, twice, and it flings open at the third impact and out into the wind. 

Each kick had shaken the whole cabin. You sat extremely still, watching the whole thing, terrified that any sudden movement on your end would speed up this thing's fall.

Peter perches at the new opening, body leaning halfway out so he can grab onto a part of the still-standing rim, which doesn't seem to be falling apart the way everything on this side of the cart seems to be.

Peter holds out his free hand to you, palm up. He calls your name. “C'mon! Take my hand!”

You look at him like he's out of his damned mind. There's no way Peter, with his gangly long limbs, had any hope of lifting you out of here. Fear is the only thing that stops a manic laugh from warbling out of your throat.

“You gotta trust me, Sunshine.”

You stare at his outstretched hand, then glance up to his face, see the desperate plea in his eyes. It shatters your heart. He’s practically halfway out of the cart, can probably get down safely from here. But if you grabbed his hand, you’re worried you’d just weigh him down. Even if he could pull you to safety, wouldn’t it just slow him down? Turn the odds against your survival? You don’t want to be the reason Peter doesn’t make it. You couldn’t do that to sweet Aunt May. 

Yet you find yourself taking a trembling step forward. Because Peter told you to trust him, and before this you swear he was about to kiss you, and you decide then and there that you don’t want to die without getting a chance to kiss Peter.

Just as your hand raises to clasp Peter’s, the cabin lurches again, makes you wobble off balance. You gasp as Peter shouts, a wordless exclamation. When you find your footing again, realizing that you are not yet plummeting to certain death, you see Peter is somehow… he’s holding onto the cabin by the door frame with one hand, hanging onto the upright beam of the ferris wheel for leverage. Face contorted with strain. Arms trembling with effort. 

“Grab onto me!” He yells. “I can’t- can’t hold it for long, you gotta grab onto me!”

No longer wavering, you fling yourself at Peter and wrap your arms around his middle. That’s about as much bravery as you’re able to muster up with open eyes, so you squeeze them shut and quietly make sounds of teeth-clenched dread as rain and wind whip around you. 

Peter must let go of the cart because you feel his hands adjust you against him before one of them holds you closer and tighter to him, arm secure around your waist. It is the only thing that provides a small comfort as the windswept feeling of falling makes you bury your face in the crook of Peter’s neck.

The fall seems to last much longer than you think it should. Long enough to give way to something exhilarating in your belly, accompanying the fear and the cold. Long enough to feel a bit confused over the delayed impact, but you convince yourself it’s coming soon, maybe right this second, even, and nuzzle deeper into Peter’s hold for comfort.

Peter’s voice cuts through the wind and rain unexpectedly clear and close to your ear. “Hey, we’re okay. We’re fine now.”

You shiver, probably from the chill of the passing storm and not from the feeling of his warm breath against your skin, and slowly blink your eyes open to the dark hair plastered at the back of Peter’s neck. It takes another few seconds to realize that you are no longer falling, and that the ground is firmly planted on your feet. Or, vice versa. Either way, it’s such a dizzying relief of a revelation that you only slowly peel back away from Peter, afraid you might stumble without his support. 

You draw back far enough to scan Peter’s face. “How- what?” You glance around, find yourself tucked away between two small buildings. The rain has lightened to a soft, considerate drizzle. Looking back into Peter’s eyes, you finish asking, “Peter, how are we alive right now? How did we get down from the ferris wheel? Where is the ferris wheel?”

Peter chuckles, something nervous underlying the laughter. His arm falls away from your waist. You miss it immediately, but then his hands are on your cheeks, cradling your face. “There’s probably somethin’ I should tell you.”

His dulcet tone makes your cheeks tingle. An overwhelming emotion fills his gaze, and it worsens the dizzying feeling of being alive. Peter’s face is so close to yours, water droplets hanging from the wet strands of hair sticking to his brow, one clinging to the tip of his nose. His mouth is parted slightly, and he is breathtaking and dreamy and quite possibly the reason you’re still alive. 

“Wh-what’re you..?” 

Peter answers your breathless and incomplete question by closing the distance between your mouths. His lips slot against yours. His nose pokes your left cheek. It all feels so tender and almost impossible. 

“I’m sorry, ‘m sorry, I just-” he pulls back, but not very far, continues muttering against your mouth. “I thought I was gonna lose you, too-”

His lips trail upwards, brushes against your nose until they press against your forehead, and it somehow makes you feel more bashful than the kiss did. Something delicate and vulnerable bubbles up in the small space between you, makes the rain stop mattering.

“Pete,” you whisper, voice hoarse with emotion as you parrot his reassuring words from before. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

You stand there for a few moments, letting time dissolve around you as you mutter reassurances to each other, hands not leaving the other, touches filled with solace and just a little bit of selfishness. As your mind accepts that you are no longer in danger, something starts to click into place as dots connect. The Spider-Plush is still firmly clenched in your right fist, now sodden from the weather but otherwise intact. 

An amused snort distracts Peter enough to pull away from you and give you a curious look. The space allows you to take a look at the plush, its familiar colors and big white eyes and webbed face. You raise it next to Peter’s head, shaking it slightly, for emphasis. “This- This is you.”

Peter’s head falls forward, keeping his eyes downcast and away from yours. It wasn’t a question, of course, but he nods anyway. 

“You… Spider-Manned us to safety.”

Peter’s shoulders move with silent laughter before he raises his head again, grinning. “See?” He says. “I told you I wasn’t gonna let you die.”

The precious moment of reveling in each other’s safety finally gives way to bubbly amusement. “I didn’t think you’d be able to carry me!”

“Aw, c’mon, where’s my vote of confidence?”

“Peter. Peter, look at you, you’re like a stringbean.” 

Peter throws his head back in laughter, revealing his lovely long neck and Adam’s apple that you stare at, deciding it’s a well-deserved treat for your eyes.

“How was I supposed to know that you’d be able to bear my weight so easy?” You continue. “I’m not exactly light, Pete. I’m not… I’m not damsel-sized, y’know?”

Peter stops laughing. He looks at you, something smoldering and slightly mischievous darkening his gaze. His head drops just a bit, making his stare almost threatening as he walks towards you, starts backing you into the wall on your side of the alley. “Was easy for me. I’ll carry you anywhere.”

Heat floods your cheeks, the low tone and Peter’s closeness making your heart flutter. 

“C’mere.” His right hand falls to your waist again, pulling you towards him, making you gasp. He plants one more searing kiss against your lips, this one more certain and molten, before effortlessly whisking you away. 

You spend the evening huddled up in your bedroom, eating soup and fighting back a cold and sharing a blanket with Peter Parker, who is so much more than a Boy and a Friend.

[fireblossomdoll]

If It Wasn't For The Nights pt. 2

Synopsis: The next day is as normal as can be. You and Hashirama look good together.

Content: Senju Hashirama x reader, gn!reader, shinobi!reader, established relationship, fluff (unless?)

Word count: 449

Parts: part 1, part 2

A/N: this was meant to be a oneshot, but I wrote more and was a bit lost on what direction to go. I'm not really writing anymore on this part, but I may or may not do a part 3. also on ao3 <3

Hashirama returned home to you asleep. Your face looked red and puffy, yet calm. He felt a weight in his heart, but what else could he have done? He laid down beside you and rested his head on the damp pillow.

[ ❀ ]

The sun shines bright on your eyes as you open them. You feel heavy and airy, clearly having had a bad night of sleep. You turn your head to find Hashirama by your side. You can't tell at what point he came back, and even though you want him to be here, you can't help but feel resentment for him leaving.

You stand up and hear him wake up behind you. You want him to apologise to you, so you keep walking. What's the point of it all if you beg him to apologise?

“Good morning,” He says it a bit too low for him to pass as unaware of the tension. You hum and get a change of clothes.

After you get changed, you return to your bedroom, but he’s not there anymore.

 [ ❀ ]

You go about your day as normal, moving around the village. Around midday you go to the Hokage tower as you do when possible. Nearing the main office, you hear people talking and decide to wait by the doorstep until they finish.

You don’t wait long before seeing a few ninja leave the room and walk in. Hashirama’s smiles and takes off his hat as he sees you.

“Ready?” You ask him, and he nods approaching you.

The two of you leave the building towards your usual restaurant. It's your little tradition to have lunch together, a moment in the day you both take to spend with each other.

You're served the dish of the day, a nice little treat to motivate you both throughout the rest of the day.

You take Hashirama’s plate and mix his food while he does the same to yours. He looks so handsome today, with his brown locks flowing down his shoulders and that cute smile.

“How has your day been so far?” He starts.

“Ah, the usual,” Your voice is light and you can't contain your smile, “I cleaned my kunai, watered the house plants, got started on some paperwork I had been delaying,”

Hashirama complimented you on finally starting dreaded chores, and you knew it came from a place of understanding.

[ ❀ ]

After your meal you stroll around the streets for a bit. 

The sun is shining on the bright blue sky. A soft breeze making for the perfect temperature to enjoy the day. You walk by the village together, enjoying each other's presence.

It was moments like these that you enjoyed the most.

[ticklish-n-stuff]

Playful moments

A/N: HI @giggly-squiggily! IT IS I, YOUR SQUEALING SANTA THIS YEAR! I got so excited when I got you, 'cause last year you were my squealing santa and now I get to return the favor. Merry Christmas, Happy December! I hope you enjoy! I had a lot of fun writing for Blue Lock again ^^

Summary: Nagi is feeling rather silly and starts a tickle fight with his boyfriend, Chigiri

Word count: 603

Also on ao3

_________________________________________

The room was quiet, a bit too quiet for Chigiri’s liking. Usually, a quiet moment in Blue Lock was rare, which made this all the more worrying. Whenever he was with Nagi, he would at least hear the noises coming out of his phone, or those adorable snores whenever his boyfriend fell asleep.

The redhead stopped mid-braid, turning to see what Nagi could be up to, only to let out a startled scream when he came face to face with the white haired male. “Nagi?! What are you- Hehey! No, stohop that!” all of Chigiri’s hard work came undone when mischievous fingers started kneading at his side. His hair got all over his face as he frantically tried protecting himself.

An airy yet playful chuckle came out of the taller male, now using both hands to scribble and poke over the redhead’s ribs. “Make me~”.

Oh, so that’s how it was.

No one would expect this from someone so laidback, but Nagi was prone to getting these playful moods. Chigiri was already used to his boyfriend’s antics and knew what he wanted.

“Ahalright, buhut you ahahasked for ihit!” in the midst of Chigiri’s laughter, he reached out and started kneading at the taller one’s waist. Instantly rewarded with Nagi’s sweet laughter, a wide smile stretching across the usually emotionless features.

“You plahay dirty!” Nagi cried out, as if he hadn’t started this whole tickle fight himself. His arms flailed around, trying to both defend himself and keep attacking his lover

“You act ahas if you dihidn’t want thihihis!” Chigiri shot back cheekily, triggering Nagi’s playfulness further.

Suddenly, the world was upside down. It took a moment for Chigiri to register that he had been swung over his boyfriend’s shoulder, being carried off to the single bed.

“H-hey! Put me down!” You could practically hear the embarrassment in Chigiri’s tone, his face starting to match the color of his hair.

“Don’t gotta tell me twice” Nagi smirked, ungraciously dumping his boyfriend onto the soft mattress, earning a startled yelp from the shorter one.

By the time Chigiri refocused on his surroundings, his beanstalk of a partner had already made his way on top of him. Wasting no time pinching at his hip bones.

“ACK-! NahaHAGIiii!” Maybe it was a good thing that Chigiri’s hair kept getting on his face, serving as a shield from Nagi’s teasing gaze. Of course, that didn’t stop the shorter male from retaliating.

Chigiri managed to jab under Nagi’s arms, causing the latter to lose his balance and fall onto the side. Chigiri’s speed was a valuable skill in both the soccer field and in tickle fights, allowing him to quickly get on top of his boyfriend.

Deciding to take a more creative approach, the redhead leaned towards the white haired male’s neck and started to playfully nibble all over the sensitive skin. It looked like Nagi’s playfulness was rubbing off on him.

“CHI! NohOHO! OKAhaHaY! I giHIVe!” Nagi all but squealed, doubling down in laughter at the unbearably ticklish sensation along his neck. The waves of laughter that spilled out of him zapping any energy he had left, leaving him a giggly mess.

Chigiri decided to show mercy, lifting his head to gaze fondly at the disheveled boy underneath him. “Hah! I won this time~” the redhead couldn’t help but boast.

“I’ll get you back eventually. But for now, nap time” Before Chigiri could even protest, Nagi was already out like a light. His strong arms embraced Chigiri in a tight hug that left him no choice but to join his lover in dreamland. Here’s to more playful moments.

_________________________________________

[airybcby]

Did You See Me On TV?

( bllk boys and being in a long distance relationship )

a/n — thought about this and just HAD to write. no long distance relationship experience, but def some long distance friendship experience. rather short, but i had to get it out.

content — fem! reader, set in the ' Neo Egoist ' era, some characters repeated, all characters 18+, angst, fluff, maybe some ooc for some people??, nicknames 'love' , 'babe' , 'baby' , ' my girl ' , and 'sweetheart' used

synopsis — yes, he's a world famous soccer player, but he's also your boyfriend. how does this effect your relationship?

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' you tell yourself it's fine, ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the... ' radio silence '

it's been a month since your boyfriend had left to go play for the soccer team he'd been assigned to, and what had you heard from him?

...complete and utter silence.

you understood he was busy now, you really did, but he hadn't even called while he'd been gone. any text he sent was no more than 3 words.

you were still in love with him, but was he in love with you anymore? had he forgotten all about you? was there another girl that was better than you?

the promise the two of you had made before he left sat on your tongue like lead now.

" you'll come back whenever you can, right? " you'd asked him. " for you? always. i couldn't imagine a life without you. i promise i'll call every chance i get. "

you stared at your phone, the text you'd sent him before his game started staring back at you...mocking you.

you: good luck, love!! i'm rooting for you from home! i love you, have fun, don't get hurt. call me when you can <3

it was almost pitiful. three almost exact texts sat above that one, and he hadn't even bothered to read them until after the game, simply replying with a...

him <3 : thanks

and no, if you were wondering, he hadn't ever called you.

and here you were, like a fool, curled up in your bed watching his game on live TV, watching as he made his second goal of the day.

maybe, just maybe, he'd call you after this one.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ SAE ITOSHI, isagi yoichi, RIN ITOSHI, oliver aiku, OTOYA EITA, rensuke kunigami

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the... ' a complete mess '

he'd been gone a month, and you can't count a single day he hasn't called you three times at minimum. you'd been together for a while, but you never realized how much he relied on you to do basic everyday tasks for him.

"babe? do you know where i usually keep my long socks?" you heard come from your phone speaker as you were trying to do your own homework, mind you.

" usually in the middle of your top drawer next to your underwear. unless you've changed it. " you stated, he'd asked you this question every single time he had a game since he had left, but you wouldn't dare expect him to remember that.

" you're the best, baby. what would i do without you? " your boyfriend asked as he pulled socks out of his drawer, propping his phone up on the bedside lamp as he slid the socks onto his feet.

" lose your head, probably. " you joked, looking up from your work to admire him.

yes, everyone got to see him as the big, bad soccer player on TV, but with you? he seemed like a completely different person, not someone who could get a hat trick and also simultaneously asking where their phone is while it's in their hand.

" your games soon, love. you gotta get going. " you helpfully reminded him, as if you were his personal alarm ( you were but that's besides the point )

" ah crap, thank you baby. i'll call you after i win," he said cheekily. " i'll score a goal just for you, so make sure you watch!"

" you know i will. call you later, i love you. " you reflected his smile through the phone. " i love you too! " he repeated. and just as you were about to press the 'end call' button...

"oh, baby? do you remember where i put my jersey?"

yeah, without you he'd be a train wreck.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ NAGI SEISHIRO, bachira meguru, HIORI YO, gin gagamaru, ZANTETSU TSURUGI, ranze kurona

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the... ' basically married '

it'd been a month since your boyfriend had left to go play professional soccer, and out of the four games he had played, you'd been flown out for three of them.

" do you like it? " he asked giddily, as if he was a child on christmas morning waiting to open presents. but instead of a gift, it was him showing you the hotel room he'd gotten you so you could watch his game this week too.

" you're too sweet to me, love. i would've been happy just sitting at home and cheering you on from there. " you told him. " nope! you're no longer allowed to watch the games from home," he said as if it was a fact.

oh, soccer players and their superstitions.

" even the whole team agrees! my girl is our lucky charm! "

the one game you missed, because you had a big test may i add, they lost. it wasn't a horrible loss, no, they went into additional time and lost 5-4.

your shock and confusion must have been written all of your face, because he just laughed. " c'mon sweetheart, why don't you just come live with me here ? "

many reasons, actually. you still had school, it was across the world (not really but it felt like it ), your family, your friends.

he knew all of this, of course. there usually wasn't a day that you seriously considered it. considered being here, with him, instead of having to facetime and miss him.

one day, you would, but not now...you think.

"oh, hush. you gotta get going, you have a game to win." you huffed, pushing at his shoulder to hopefully get him going out the door.

"alright, alright. i'll come back with you after the game, sweetheart. i love you, see you after my win! "

and win he would, because he swore to himself that if he won this game the velvet box that was hiding in his dresser would finally be able to come out.

but, hey, even if he didn't win, would you say no to the ring he had custom made for you?

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ REO MIKAGE, isagi yoichi, YUKIMIYA KENYU, chigiri hyoma, nijiro nanase, BARO SHOEI

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' you're just in love ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

this was really written on a whim, but i hope yall liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs appreciated!

[ask-elliot-doorman-fam]

Kiara.

Have you ever thought about kissing Tera

On the lips?

She goes entirely stiff- you happened to catch her while writing, sitting on her bed with her laptop.

"What? Of... of course not, that-that would be weird..." She's blushing slightly.

The contents of the page of her laptop reads as follows:

It's a dire situation, the wolves outside pace around the entrance to the cave, yipping and huffing as they tried to find a way inside.

Terrence turns to his charge, the princess he was told to protect at all cost, the hunter, her best friend, he's pockmarked in scars, everywhere accept his face, framed by wild black hair only tamed by a short wolf-tail.

"The fire should keep them out." He said gruffly, placing a crossbow at his side and getting a blanket from his bag. "You should get some rest, Princess." He throws it over her, but the blonde haired- blue eyed princess clutches his hand before he can walk away.

"Stay with me. Ter? Like old times?" She whispers, it's light and airy, it makes the grizzled hunter blush- which he tries to hide."

"The king would hang me if he found out, Princess Kida."

"My father isn't here."

There is a beat of silence, it's tense and tender; Terrence still hesitates, at least until the princesses hand begins to crawl up his red leather jacket.

"Please, I missed you..." She whispers, inching closer to his face, pulling him closet.

"Kida..." Terrence sighs, his hand coming to rest on her soft cheek. Forehead resting on forehead, thier adventures so far had led them here; into this perfect moment.

"Terrence..." They meet in the middle with passion, saying much more with action then they ever could with words. Their lips lock, the hunters hands wan- the page cuts off at the bottom of the laptop

[airireum]

AIRI's ROLEPLAY ZONE

┊┊┊┊⋆ ✧　 　 · 　 ✧　✵ ┊┊┊☆ *　　 * ⋆ ┊┊★ * ┊┊* . *　✦ ┊☆ ° ✧　 　 · ★*

hi hi ! Thanks for stopping by!

My name is Airi, I’m a 21+ roleplayer ! I’m looking for roleplayers who are 18+, semi-lit to novella style and NSFW safe.

I do only roleplay on discord but I’m willing to plot out ideas on tumblr.

I’m comfortable doing oc x oc (selective/mxm or fxf) as well as oc x cc . For oc x oc I usually prefer to play the female role unless it’s mxm or otherwise specified. I only do double ups unless it’s oc x oc!

If any of this interests you, please feel free to message me ! I love coming up with plots or plotting in general. I also love ooc banter and making new friends! Below you’ll find my rules and fandoms!!

RULES!

01. Minor, please DNI. I'm 21+ and do not feel comfortable writing with anyone underage. I will not budge on this!

02. My roleplay style is literate/novella style. I do tend to copy my partners writing length so if you write more, I will too. I do prefer lengthy replies over shorter ones, but if the plot is good enough I'm willing to drop down to semi-lit.

03. I roleplay oc x oc or oc x cc. For oc x cc fandoms I always double up. That way both my partner and I are enjoying our roleplays to the fullest. For oc x oc, I prefer to write as the female character unless we're doing fxf or mxm!

04. Outside of roleplay, I have a pretty busy schedule! I work from 3pm-11pm EST (M-F) so my replies during the week won't be as much as on the weekend. Please note that I will get at least one reply per day, if not more given the free time I have. I try to always let my roleplay partner know if I won't be able to reply or if I'll be busy, so I expect the same thing in return.

05. I love some good NSFW! I tend to be a bit more detailed when it comes to writing out NSFW, kinda tend to immerse myself in! That being said, I don't have many triggers but the ones I do have will be discussed prior to starting the roleplay!

06. I love chatting outside of the roleplay! I know that sometimes life gets busy and we aren't able to reply to the roleplay but we might have some time to talk ooc, and that's totally fine with me. I love making new friends and I'm always down for a chat!! <3

07. I only roleplay on discord! I'm willing to plot out anything on tumblr but the roleplay itself will take place in a private discord server. I love making different channels and aesthetics for our roleplay!

08.Fandom characters that are underage will be AGED UP!

FANDOMS!

ANIME:

I. Jujutsu Kaisen || Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Ryomen Sukuna, Toji Fushiguro, Shoko Ieiri

ll. Bungo Stray Dogs || Osamu Dazai, Yukichi Fukuzawa, Chuya Nakahara, Ryunosuke Akutagawa, Atsushi Nakajima, Akiko Yosano ((currently still watching the anime))

lll. Tokyo Ghoul || Juuzou Suzuya, Ken Kaneki, Ayato Kirishima, Seidou Takizawa (ghoul)

lV. Blue Lock || Sae Itoshi, Rin Itoshi, Meguru Bachira, Hyoma Chigiri, Nagi Seishiro, Reo Mikage ((finished the anime, starting the manga))

V. Black Butler || Sebastian Michaelis, Undertaker, Claude Faustus ((currently still watching the anime))

Vl. Chainsaw Man || Aki Hayakawa, Makima, Angel ((finished the anime, haven't read the manga))

Vll. Naruto || Sasuke Uchiha, Itachi Uchiha, Kakashi Hatake, Sasori

Vlll. Death Note || L, Near ((stopped watching after L's death, though I do know the whole gist and spoiled the ending))

lX. Diabolik Lovers || Ayato Sakamaki, Laito Sakamaki, Subaru Sakamaki, Azusa Mukami

MISC:

X. Homicipher || Mr. Crawling, Mr. Silvair, Mr. Scarletella

[anonsickficker]

*gets on hands and knees to beg* please. argenthill content. i beg. (ive been so curious since I first heard about it)

the one im writing right now might take a while.. but i have some headcanon (?)

boothill still has the urges of a human, as the rest of his outward appearance seems to have been replaced with synthetic parts. he is unable to cry, just a minor side effect of his mechanically enhanced eyesight, the blue blood that runs through his veins, and the cold, artificial heart that thumps unfeelingly in his chest.

so, to ease the pains of his past, he drinks.

after a few of beverages, he forgets the significantly decreased stomach capacity that his cyborg body possesses. in short, he goes overboard. nobody notices a fellow nobody like him. not the secluded area of the hotel lounge he's situated in, the way the downs drink after drink, nor the manner in which he relieves the pressure in his chest, with a couple of low, airy belches that are completely washed away with the sweet melodies of jazz classics.

at some point, his innards begin to hurt. he is unable to pinpoint which organ aches, nor does he care. 'another drink should set me straight', he thinks. the counterintuitive thought lingers in his mind until he's lost track of how many remedial fingers of whiskey he's knocked back. his throat burns and tongue is numb and his head begins to ring internally, like the sound of the old, pink and tacky alarm clock that he'd somehow preserved, that had carried the memory of her, even after she had long passed. 'another drink should bring her back', he supposes.

something other than 'another drink' arrives, though.

he's been noticed, by the most beautiful somebody to exist. boothill's enhanced vision produces a clear image of the redhead before him, allowing his not-so-enhanced brain to fork up any information he's acquired about the man. argenti.

argenti shoves into the booth, shining the nearly blinding luminescence of his onto the reflective surfaces of boothill's damned metal figure. and almost immediately after, the lights are curtained by warm, loving fingertips that drum against boothill's upper abdomen, where the sloshing noises are the most prominent, like the sloshing of gasoline in its rightful tank. his cold, unfeeling heart, suddenly wildly hypersensitive to each wave of pressure that the redhead applies, his matching crimson eyelashes fluttering with fascination as he realises that boothill isnt just a pile of bolts and loose parts. there is beauty within his 'damned metal body', the beauty of feeling.

boothill's quick wit and snappy tongue lose their footing as he hiccups, unable to retaliate against argenti's gentle caresses as they traverse the plains of his waist, then navel, then especially taut upper-belly. argenti's luscious, saccharine-scented locks plays its rightful role as a luxurious veil as he leans over, offering up his plump bottom lip to the 'more-machine-than-man' beneath him. he is unfazed, even when boothill burps, close-mouthed, but impossibly near the redhead's face, as a result from the newly-introduced pressure of being crushed by a knight in his full-plate armour.

sharp, jagged teeth slide themselves across sweet, knowing tongue as they collide, and every attempt to push argenti off of him proves to be futile, even when they serve as warnings of when he's going to drunkenly hiccup right into the redhead's mouth. because somehow, argenti finds beauty in this, too.

sorry for not being able to finish it.. i dont think i wrote particularly well here but. i dont read often but i finally read a bit of a book and used some.. weird techniques. its not very nice in my opinion, and is very cliche. im sorry, anonymous person i hope everyone has a nice day. my creative writing ability deteriorated after tests sorry.. and it was not very focused on argenti also sorry about that. very one sided..

also i dont drink and never plan to what is a finger of whiskey

[captainnameless]

What have you been working on lately?👀

theres a lot of little thoughts that haven’t made it past the 5 sentence mark, too many to discuss

but when i put out that i maybe wanted to do a freaky friday type thing where i write something that’s different to what i usually write i got a request for Maxiel w/ Max as an actual toddler and i —

It’s a hot summer night in Monaco, the sun has only just set and the sky is darkening into a beautiful navy black. The stars barely visible.

Their beers are empty, cans threatening to fall over with the soft breeze that’s flowing over Max’s patio. Their feet are touching, their fingers splayed, hands supporting their upper body weight, lounged on a thin striped blanket.

Max drops down to his elbows while he overshares, tells another story from his childhood with an airy smile on his face like it isn’t the most traumatic thing Daniel has ever heard.

“I wish I could change that for you.” Daniel breathes, readjusting his weight so he can brush his finger past Max’s forearm.

“Hmm,” Max hums, turning to look up at Daniel. “It is what it is. It’s okay.”

It isn’t. Daniel thinks but doesn’t say, just suppresses his sigh and tries to match Max’s soft smile. It doesn’t work.

“Don’t be sad.” Max frowns, turning to lay on his side and look at Daniel. “It’s not like we can do a do-over. I’m okay with what has been, I turned out okay.”

Despite of it. Daniel thinks. Not because of.

“You’re more than okay.” Daniel says, genuine, keeping Max’s eyes locked in his.

“You’ll make me blush,” Max jokes, but there’s a real flush that creeps down his neck anyway, breaking their eye contact with a shy chuckle, it makes Daniel smile.

“Look!” Max exclaims, shooting up from where he was laid down. “A falling star!”

Daniel blinks, follows Max’s pointed finger in the rapidly darkening sky, and sees the bright flash of a rapidly falling star.

“Maybe your wish will come true.” Max chuckles turning back to Daniel who feels a cold rush through his body as he breaks his gaze off of the star and back on to Max.

“Yeah,” Daniel breathes. “Maybe.”

— — —

They don’t speak about it again that night, with the temperature dropping they clean up their mess and make their way inside, Max offers Daniel his guest bedroom, which he takes without a fuss.

When Daniel wakes there’s light already dripping through the curtains of the room, the muted noise outside indicating the city is awake too.

He swings his legs out of bed, ready for a cup of coffee as he shuffles into the kitchen. The cats are awake, greeting him by curling around his feet.

“Goodmorning,” Daniel greets them, stepping over them to get to his destination.

“Hi.” A strange voice answers, and Daniel stops dead in his tracks when he rounds the kitchen island.

He blinks, blinks again but his vision doesn’t change. In front of him, surrounded by a teared up box of cereal sits a tiny child, with bare feet and chubby rosy cheeks, and ocean blue eyes that Daniel could pick out of a line-up every time.

“Daddy!” The toddler cheers, mouth full of cereal.

Max.