#gotta do a big stretch and then curl up and youre set

[lookforanewangle]

you know it's time for bed when you get the restless wriggles

[inseobts]

1st Anniversary

what would they do for your first anniversary together?

gn!reader

characters: luffy, zoro, sanji, law, ace

words count: around 0.5k - 0.7k each

masterlist || ko-fi

── .✦ Monkey D. Luffy:

The sun rises over the Thousand Sunny, casting golden light across the deck. You stretch and yawn, rubbing the sleep from your eyes when a sudden weight crashes into you.

"Y/N!" Luffy yells, tackling you with his usual enthusiasm.

You groan but laugh as he wraps his arms around you "Luffy, it's too early for this—"

"IT'S OUR ANNIVERSARY!" he shouts, grinning ear to ear.

You blink. Oh. Right. Your first anniversary together.

Luffy’s never been the best at remembering dates, so you didn’t expect him to bring it up at all. But here he is, vibrating with excitement like a kid who just found a pile of meat.

"You remembered?" you ask, surprised.

Luffy nods eagerly "Of course! I mean… Sanji wrote it down for me… and Nami yelled at me to not forget… and Robin told me what an anniversary even is—but still!"

You chuckle, shaking your head "So, do you have something planned?"

Luffy puffs out his chest proudly "Yup! Captain’s orders: today is Luffy and y/n Day! No crewmates allowed!"

From across the deck, you hear Usopp yell "THAT'S NOT HOW IT WORKS!"

Luffy ignores him.

"But," he continues, "I, uh, don’t actually know what people do on anniversaries, so I just made some rules!"

Your curiosity piques "Rules?"

Luffy grins, grabbing a piece of paper from his pocket and unfolding it dramatically "Yup! First rule: We gotta eat as much meat as possible!"

You snort "Of course."

"Second rule: No pirate stuff today. Just fun stuff!"

"That’s… actually kind of sweet" you admit.

"And the last rule…" He suddenly scratches his head, cheeks turning a little pink "Well… um…"

You tilt your head "What is it?"

Luffy huffs, clearly frustrated "It's a secret rule! I’ll tell you later!"

You laugh but decide not to push it "Alright, Captain. What’s first on the itinerary?"

It starts with a massive breakfast, courtesy of Sanji (who glares at Luffy the whole time for stealing food off your plate). After stuffing yourselves, Luffy drags you across the Sunny for various "Luffy-approved" activities.

First, there’s an intense game of tag—where Luffy cheats by using his rubber powers. Then, he insists on fishing, though he gets distracted halfway through and jumps in after the fish himself. After drying off (and avoiding Nami’s wrath for getting seawater everywhere), he decides you both need a nap—because "eating and playing is tiring!"

You wake up with Luffy curled around you like a koala, snoring into your hair.

"You really are like a cat" you mumble, gently brushing his bangs aside.

Luffy stirs, blinking up at you sleepily "Hmmm?"

"Nothing" you whisper, smiling.

As the sun starts setting, you and Luffy sit on the deck, watching the waves. The usual chaos of the crew is still happening in the background, but for once, it’s peaceful.

Luffy suddenly perks up "Oh! The secret rule!"

You sit up straighter "Finally. What is it?"

He fidgets, uncharacteristically nervous "Well… I heard anniversaries are for saying important stuff, right?"

You nod "I guess, yeah."

Luffy rubs the back of his neck, looking out at the sea "So… my last rule is… that I gotta tell you something important today. Something really important."

Your heart skips a beat. Luffy isn't usually serious—when he is, it means something big "Okay," you say softly "I'm listening."

He takes a deep breath, then grins, his usual carefree self again "I love you!"

You freeze.

He’s said he likes you before, in his own way—"You're my favorite!" or "I like having you around!"—but he’s never actually said that.

He tilts his head "Was that good? I was practicing in my head all day."

Your eyes soften "You practiced?"

"Yeah!" He laughs "I mean, I already knew I love you, but I wanted to say it today ‘cause, y’know, it’s our thing. Our anniversary thing!"

You shake your head fondly, grabbing his hat and plopping it onto your own head "You’re such an idiot."

Luffy pouts "Hey—"

Before he can complain, you cup his face and kiss him. He makes a surprised noise but quickly melts into it, smiling against your lips.

"Best anniversary ever" he mumbles.

You laugh "You say that now, but wait ‘til next year. You’ll have to top it."

Luffy grins "Easy! Next year, I’ll make a million rules!"

You sigh, shaking your head "What have I gotten myself into?"

Luffy just laughs, pulling you closer as the sun dips below the horizon. The crew groans in the background, but you don’t care. Because as chaotic and ridiculous as he is, Luffy’s way of loving you is perfect.

And that’s all you could ever ask for.

── .✦ Roronoa Zoro:

The sun hangs low over the Thousand Sunny, painting the sky in warm hues of orange and pink. The crew is scattered across the deck, each lost in their own evening routine, but your attention is on one person alone—Zoro.

The swordsman leans against the railing, arms crossed, eyes closed. To anyone else, it looks like he’s resting, but you know better. He’s thinking.

You step closer, hands behind your back “Oi, Zoro.”

His eye cracks open slightly before he turns his head toward you “Hm?”

You smile, rocking on your heels “Happy anniversary.”

For a second, he looks at you blankly, and your heart sinks a little. Did he forget?

Then, with a small smirk, he straightens up “Tch. You really think I’d forget?”

You cross your arms “Honestly? Yes.”

He scoffs “Give me some credit.”

Your curiosity piques “So… you actually planned something?”

Zoro rolls his shoulders, looking away for a brief moment before nodding “Something like that.”

You raise an eyebrow “Wait. Seriously?”

Before you can press further, he jerks his head toward the deck “C’mon.”

He leads you to a quieter part of the ship, where the sounds of the crew fade into the background. A small blanket is laid out on the deck, two cups and a bottle of sake sitting neatly in the center. The sea stretches endlessly before you, the breeze carrying the scent of salt and adventure.

You blink in surprise “Did… you do this?”

Zoro sits down, grabbing the bottle “Sanji might’ve helped. But don’t tell him I said that.”

You chuckle, sitting beside him “Didn’t take you for the romantic type.”

“I’m not.” He pours a bit of sake into your cup, then his own “But I figured… a year with you is worth drinking to.”

Your chest warms at his words. Zoro isn’t one for big, flashy gestures—but when he cares, he shows it in ways that truly matter.

You clink your cup against his “I’ll drink to that.”

As the two of you sip in comfortable silence, you glance at him “So, what was the first thing you thought when we got together?”

Zoro exhales, setting his cup down “That you’re stubborn.”

You laugh “Me?”

“Yeah.” He leans back on his elbows, looking at you “You wouldn’t back down, even when I tried pushing you away.”

You tilt your head “Did you want to push me away?”

Zoro’s gaze softens “…I didn’t want you to be a distraction, you know”

You stare at him, heart squeezing “And now?”

He lets out a slow breath “Now, I know you’re not.”

You smile “Good answer.”

After a few more drinks, the night fully settles in and Zoro turns to you, expression unreadable.

“…I have something for you.”

Your eyes widen, surprised “You got me a gift?”

He reaches into his haramaki and pulls out a small object. He places it in your hand—it’s a charm. It's like a small version of his earrings turned into a pendant and attached to a thin string.

Your breath catches “Zoro…?”

He rubs the back of his neck, looking away “It’s stupid, but… I had it made a while ago. For you.”

You run your fingers over the smooth surface, heart pounding sooooo hard “It’s not stupid. It’s perfect.”

Zoro smirks “You’re stuck with me.”

You laugh, tightening your grip on the pendant and leaving a kiss on his cheek.

── .✦ Vinsmoke Sanji:

The kitchen of the Thousand Sunny is filled with the warm, mouthwatering aroma of freshly cooked food. The scent of caramelized spices and grilled seafood lingers in the air, a sure sign that Sanji is in his element.

You lean against the doorway, watching him work his magic. He moves with effortless grace, flipping a pan, the flames from the stove reflecting in his blue eyes. He hums softly to himself, a tune you recognize as the one he whistles when he’s happy.

You smirk “Cooking me a feast, Chef?”

Sanji turns at the sound of your voice, and immediately, his expression melts “Ah, ma chérie, you’re early.”

You cross your arms, pouting “So I’m not supposed to be here?”

Sanji chuckles, wiping his hands on a towel before stepping closer “I wanted to surprise you...” He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear “But I suppose I don’t mind if you ruin the surprise—after all, you’re the guest of honor!”

Your heart flutters at his words. Sanji has always been charming, but there’s something different about the way he speaks to you, softer, more genuine, as if you’re the only person in the world.

You glance past him at the beautifully arranged table, complete with candles, fine plates, and a bouquet of flowers “You really went all out, huh?”

He grins, taking your hand and spinning you playfully “Only the best for my love.”

Sanji pulls out a chair for you, as the great gentleman he is “Sit and relax. Let me take care of everything.”

You obey, watching as he presents dish after dish, each one plated to perfection “Alright, Chef, walk me through the menu.”

Sanji gestures dramatically “For the appetizer, we have a delicate seafood bisque, infused with saffron and a touch of white wine. For the main course..." He lifts a silver lid, revealing your favorite dish "...a meal crafted specifically for my one and only.”

You gasp, touched “You remembered my favorite?”

Sanji scoffs as if offended “Do you take me for an amateur? Of course I remember.”

You laugh and take a bite, instantly melting at the burst of flavors “Oh my god. I think I just fell in love all over again.”

Sanji chuckles, resting his chin in his palm as he watches you “Then I must be doing it right.”

After finishing the meal and complimenting him so much that he nearly combusts with joy, Sanji disappears into the kitchen. When he returns, he’s holding a small plate with a single dessert on it, a beautifully crafted heart-shaped pastry.

“Happy anniversary, my love” he murmurs, setting it in front of you.

Your eyes soften “You made this just for me?”

Sanji kneels beside you, taking your hand in his “Everything I make is for you, mon amour. But this… this one is special.”

You pick up the dessert, admiring the delicate details. As you take a bite, your taste buds explode with sweetness and spice, just like him.

“It’s perfect” you whisper.

Sanji smiles, but there’s something more in his expression tonight—something deeper “I’m glad,” he murmurs “Because you are, too.”

Your breath catches as he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“Sanji…”

He exhales, resting his forehead against yours “Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done”

Your heart swells, and for once, he’s the one left breathless when you lean in and kiss him.

The chef who’s always served everyone finally gets a taste of something just for himself... a love that’s his to keep.

── .✦ Portgas D. Ace:

The Moby Dick is quiet tonight, the usual noise replaced by something softer (Ace had made sure of it).

You step onto the deck, your brows furrowing as you notice the absence of drunken laughter and boisterous yelling. Instead, a familiar warmth spreads through the air, not just from the ship’s lanterns, but from the flickering flames dancing lazily around a certain freckled man's fingertips.

He’s waiting for you.

“Hey, you’re finally here” Ace calls, grinning as he waves you over “Took you long enough.”

You raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms “You were the one who told me to wait in my room. What exactly are you up to?”

Ace scratches the back of his head, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips “Well… it’s our anniversary, right? So I wanted to do something special.”

Your heart skips a beat. He remembered.

You step closer, noticing that he’s set up a "date night" on the deck. There’s a blanket spread out beneath the stars, a small box of food beside it (probably stolen from the kitchen), and a few lanterns hanging. But the real highlight is Ace himself, his flames glow softly around him, casting warm hues against his skin.

“Ace…” You blink, touched “Did you do all this?”

He grins, patting the spot next to him “Well, I had some help from Thatch—mostly because I kept burning the food.”

You laugh as you sit beside him “That sounds about right”

Ace chuckles, handing you a small bowl of your favorite food “I figured I should at least try to do this properly.”

You take a bite, humming in approval “It’s actually pretty good.”

“Damn right it is! I didn’t burn this”

You shake your head, smiling “You’re impossible.”

Ace leans back on his hands, watching you with a lazy grin “Yeah, but you love me anyway.”

Your cheeks warm. He’s not wrong.

After finishing your meal, the two of you lay side by side on the blanket, staring up at the endless sky. The sea is calm, the ship gently rocking beneath you, and Ace's warmth seeps into your skin where his arm brushes yours.

He turns his head, watching you “Y’know… I never really thought I’d make it this far.”

You glance at him “What do you mean?”

Ace hesitates, then exhales “I used to think I wasn’t meant to have stuff like this. Someone who sticks around, someone who actually...” He pauses, then looks at you with a rare softness “...someone who loves me just for being me.”

Your heart aches at his words. You reach for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his “You deserve this, Ace. You deserve love, and happiness, and everything good in the world.”

Ace stares at you for a moment as he swallows hard.

Then, without a word, he pulls you into a tight embrace, burying his face in your shoulder. His body is warmer than usual but you don’t mind. You hold him just as tightly.

“…Thanks,” he mumbles “for staying.”

You pull back slightly, cupping his face “I’ll always stay.”

Ace lets out a shaky breath, then suddenly grins “Good. ‘Cause I don’t plan on letting you go either.”

Before you can respond, he kisses you, slow and deep.

As he stops you narrow your eyes at him “Alright, spill it. How did you get everyone to be this quiet?”

Ace blinks, then smirks “What, you think I can’t get them to behave when I want to?”

You cross your arms “No, I know you can’t.”

Ace laughs, rubbing his nose “Fine, fine. I might’ve… bribed them.”

You raise an eyebrow “With what?”

He looks away, mumbling under his breath.

“What was that?” You lean in.

“…I promised to do chore duty for a whole week.”

You gasp, eyes wide “You WHAT?”

Ace groans, throwing his head back “I know! But it was the only way! Do you have any idea how hard it is to get this crew to shut up for more than five minutes?”

You burst into laughter, clutching your sides “Oh, this is priceless. You, of all people, voluntarily doing chores?”

Ace grumbles “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I hope you appreciate the sacrifice I made for this romantic evening.”

You wipe a tear from your eye, still giggling “Oh, I definitely do. I'll make it worth for you, don't worry” you wink at him.

Ace huffs but smiles, pulling you back into his arms “It's already worth it”

You hum, resting your head against his chest.

── .✦ Trafalgar D. Law:

The Polar Tang hums quietly beneath your feet as you make your way toward Law’s quarters, your heart pounding just a little faster than usual. Today marks your first anniversary with him, and while you know Law isn’t the type for grand, sweeping gestures, a small part of you wonders if he even remembers.

You wouldn’t be upset if he forgot, he’s busy, after all. But still… a year together means something.

You take a deep breath and knock.

“Come in.”

Pushing open the door, you step inside and immediately stop in your tracks.

The usually cluttered room is different. His desk is cleared, save for a single candle flickering softly beside a small plate of food, your favorite. A delicate piece of folded paper rests next to it, and on the bed, a neatly wrapped package.

Law stands nearby, arms crossed, watching your reaction with an unreadable expression “Took you long enough” he mutters.

You blink at him, then at the setup “You… did this?”

“Tch. Who else?” He glances away, scratching the back of his neck “It’s not a big deal.”

Your heart swells at the effort. It is a big deal, because Law doesn’t do things like this unless they truly matter to him.

Smiling, you walk over to the table and pick up the folded paper “What’s this?”

He doesn’t answer, just watches as you carefully unfold it.

Your breath catches the moment you realize what it is.

It’s a hand-drawn sketch. Of you.

Your fingers tremble as you take in the intricate details, the way your hair falls around your face, the softness in your eyes, the careful shading that brings it to life. He’s captured you perfectly, every detail very precise. But what gets you the most is the expression he’s given you, serene, happy, loved.

“Law…” Your voice is barely above a whisper “You drew this?”

He shifts uncomfortably “Yeah.” His gaze flickers to the side “I… started it a while ago. Just never had a reason to finish it until now.”

Tears sting the back of your eyes, and you clutch the drawing to your chest, overwhelmed. You knew Law was skilled in many things, but this? This is beyond anything you could have expected.

He clears his throat “There’s more.”

You glance toward the package on the bed, wiping your eyes before carefully unwrapping it. Inside is a book... an old, well-kept copy of one you once mentioned loving but never found again.

You stare at it, stunned “How did you—?”

“You talk in your sleep sometimes.” He smirks, finally meeting your eyes “You kept mumbling about it a few months ago, so I figured I’d find it.”

You let out a small, watery laugh “You found this for me?”

Law shrugs, but there’s a flicker of pride in his expression “It’s not a big deal.”

You set the book and drawing aside before closing the distance between you, your hands resting on his chest “It is a big deal,” you murmur, looking up at him “Thank you, Law. Really.”

He exhales softly, his fingers ghosting over your waist before settling there, pulling you a little closer “Didn’t want you thinking I forgot” he mutters.

You smile, reaching up to cup his face “I wouldn’t have minded, you know. Just being with you is enough.”

His golden eyes search yours, something unspoken passing between you before he finally gives in. His lips find yours in a slow, deliberate kiss, one that speaks of everything he doesn’t say out loud.

He tastes like mint and tea, his hands firm yet gentle as they slide up your back, pressing you against him. The kiss deepens, his fingers threading through your hair as he tilts your head to deepen the connection. Your breath hitches when he nips at your bottom lip before soothing it with another lingering kiss.

When you finally part, your foreheads rest together, both of you breathing a little heavier.

“Happy anniversary” you whisper.

His smirk returns, softer this time “Yeah. Happy anniversary.”

You grin “Think we’ll make it another year?”

Law scoffs, tilting your chin up so he can steal another kiss “I know we will.”

And in that moment, with his arms around you and the warmth of his lips lingering on yours, you have no doubt he’s right.

[p-seduonym]

Switched At Birth (Part Six)

A/N: Hey y'all! I've been playing some new games and haven't written for a bit (IE a day). I promise to get into the Batfam in the next part though! I just... gotta figure out how to write for them. Hope you like Melissa' spiral into yandere!

Taglist (I'll add you if you ask):@luludeluluramblings, @von-jour, @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni, @kenyummy, @bunniotomia, @ch1cky-093, @toxicthotsyndrome68, @cynniee, @icefox8155, @eyeless-kun, @c4xcocoa, @ed15fashionista, @yourtypicalhuman09, @fightmebissh

Yandere!Batfam X Switched! Fem! Reader X Yandere!Wayne!OC

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

You knew Mel was hiding something when she texted you. Not from anything she said—there weren’t any obvious clues. Just a feeling. The kind you get in your chest, quiet but insistent. Call it intuition.

Still, you didn’t press. You just decided to meet her. 

Walking from your school to Gotham Prep got old fast, so you fished out your old bike from the garage. It was far from elegant, but seeing the face Mel made when she saw you on it was worth it. Convincing her to ride on the back was even more fun.

“C’mon, you didn’t expect me to make you walk, didja?”

“I guess not, but won’t I be too heavy?”

“We’re, like, the same build. I think I’ll be fine.”

She sighed and climbed on the back of the bike, under the heavy gaze of passing students. And as you began to pedal, she asked:

“Did you skip class?”

“Hmm? Why d’you ask?”

“You’d have to to get here by the time I’m out of class”

“Heh, you worried I’m not being a good student?” You joked.

“I just don’t want you to get in trouble because of me—”

“Hey! Hold on to me or you’ll fall” You cut her off just as the bike jolted over a sharp bump in the path.

“O-Okay” She wrapped her arms around you. You felt her grow warmer but decided not to comment on it.

After a moment, you confessed. 

“I just left a little before the last bell. No big deal”

She sighed, “That's not a good habit, y’know?”

You laughed, “It’s my senior year. Not much else to miss”

You felt her lean her head against your shoulder. 

“Do you remember where to go?” she asked. “I didn’t know if you got my last text”

“I got it. Just up a few blocks and take a left at the corner, right?”

“Right” She said and, even though you couldn't see her, you suspected she nodded.

It was a bit more than that, though. The ride took some time, the bustle of Gotham falling behind the two of you as you pedaled past. Past the derelict buildings and the boarded up windows, your sight blurred into a sea of gray. 

You wondered, briefly, if that’s what Mel saw too.

You saw it, over the skyline, before you reached it.

It was a dome of steel and glass, towering and strange.  The sunlight glinted off its rusted beams and warped through its murky panes. Vines curled across the surface. Moss clung to the seams.

A conservatory– long lost to time. Riddled with decay yet blooming with life. 

Melissa’s arms tightened slightly around your waist. “This is it,” she said, almost shyly. “We’re here.”

You coasted to a stop near what used to be a side entrance now just a broken stretch of wall half-swallowed by ivy. The bike creaked beneath you as you both dismounted.

“I used to come here all the time,” she said softly, brushing off her skirt. “When I was little”

You left the bike on the ground before you followed her through the breach. 

Inside, the air was damp with earth and the sweet scent of overgrowth. Ferns curled like sleeping creatures. Flowers bloomed in the cracks of shattered tile. Every inch of space was claimed by green.

“You found this place?” Your voice was hushed as you took in the sight, as if in a confessional.

“Kind of,” She said, matching your steps as you gently maneuvered around the vegetation. 

Moving with practiced ease, she gently guided you to a stone bench. Cracks marred the surface and you ran your fingers down them as you sat down beside her. The pane over head was more cracked than the others, but the setting sunlight filtered through— fractured but soft and warm against your skin.

“It was a joke, I think,” Mel said after a moment, uncertain. “Some kids said they wanted to meet up somewhere, but I ended up here instead. A fake address, I guess”

“Yeah, kids suck”

“Yeah…” She deflated slightly. “But I found this place, so it wasn’t that bad.”

Mel leaned back to look at the setting sun through the cloudy glass.

“I didn’t think that then, though. Thought it was my fault”

Her eyes grew distant.

“I always thought it was my fault”

You turned to look at her, but her eyes were trained on the sky.

“You know,” she began, voice low and almost detached, “I thought that maybe there was something wrong with me. I couldn’t understand why they never really saw me.”

She shook her head, her smile faint but bitter. “Bruce, especially. He never even bothered to get to know me. It was like I was a shadow in his world. Just something to be kept in line, taken care of… but never loved.”

You felt a pang of sympathy, but something about her words seemed too rehearsed. You shifted, trying to find the right thing to say.

“Maybe he just didn’t know how...” you said, not quite convinced.

Melissa’s laugh was dry, almost mocking. “That’s the excuse everyone gives for him. But I don’t think he wanted to know how. Maybe he didn’t want to. It would’ve meant opening up. Letting me in. And, god, I don’t think he’s ever let anyone in.”

Her words hung in the air for a moment, heavy with something you couldn’t quite place. But the next words out of her mouth made your chest tighten.

“He could have chosen to care. But he didn’t. He never did.”

Her voice dropped, just a shade darker.

“I think maybe the Waynes are just like that. Always have been. They’re so good at pretending they care. At pretending they’re this perfect family.” She scoffed, bitterness creeping into her tone. “But it’s just a show. A game they play. And you know what? I’m tired of it. I’m tired of him pretending.”

You blinked, thrown off by the sudden shift. “What do you mean?”

You felt a shift in your chest, like something was quietly unsettling itself. But then she was smiling again, and the warmth of the conservatory and the closeness of her presence made you want to believe her, to comfort her.

“This place is important to me, you know,” she said instead, voice softening. “It’s the one place I’ve ever felt like I truly belonged.”

You nodded, trying to focus on her, trying to let go of the feeling that something deeper was lurking just beneath the surface of her words.

But Melissa wasn’t finished. She looked at you, her gaze intense, her voice almost pleading now.

“You… you meant it, right?” Her voice cracked a little. “You won’t leave me. Not like the rest… right?”

You felt your cheeks grow warm.

You hadn’t felt this feeling before, beyond the occasional stray you’d beg to take home. This feeling of wanting to hold on, to shield something fragile from everything and anything. It curled in the bottom of your chest like a sleeping beast. Yet, despite all her flaws, her timidity, her bitterness, it called to her. You couldn't just leave her, you assured yourself, not when there’s so much she wants and so much to be done. 

Without thinking, you leaned forward, brushing a kiss on her temple.

“Of course” You swore in the approaching darkness of dusk.

Really, it was kind of cute—how precocious Melissa Wayne could be.

A/N: Forehead kisses! Can! Be! Platonic! Or! Romantic!

I say this with my whole chest out.

Also,

Melissa: I want the Wayne family to hurt.

Reader:

That's basically their dynamic.

[peter-pumpkin-eater]

Hello my little distraction

Caleb x gn!reader

summary: caleb's busy and you're bored. this is set BE ((before explosion))

warnings: none, fluff

word count: 1,094

_______________________

It’s been 40 minutes since you last bothered Caleb and your fingers were itching to fix it. He was in his room upstairs working on reports, something important no doubt. He had sent you off last time you wondered in his room and gone on a rant about how you know the claw machines are rigged because how else had you left last time with nothing to your name. It was the machine. Not you, obviously. 

But now you were back, creeping on the threshold of his door way. Caleb had moved from his desk to his bed, papers and books in an organised disarray. You just stood there for a moment, watching him and weighing the pros and cons of breaking the tranquility, but before you could do anything Caleb's voice filled the silence.

“Hello my little distraction.” His lips were curved into a smirk when he lifted his head. His eyes crinkled at the edges. With the peace broken you happily shuffled into the room and crawled onto the clean patch of bed, lifting your legs underneath you.

“How much more you gotta do?” Your fingers fiddled with the book in front of you, edges of the pages bending slightly. 

Caleb spun his pen around his finger before placing it on the bed, his eyes flicking between yours. No doubt trying to see if there was a reason for the interruption that was important. Like wanting dinner. It’s usually wanting dinner. “Almost done. Promise.”

A defeated and largely exaggerated sigh left you, making your shoulders sag and lean sideways falling over on the bed.

“Hungry?” he asked, tilting his head to look at you better as you slide now laying on the bed, legs still tangled under you. He’s sure that can't be too comfortable. 

“Bored.” you pouted, turning your face into the donna. It smelt like Caleb. Warm, safe and like home. His body wash lingerd. A body wash you’ve stolen under the guise of having run out and just haven't had time to buy more. 

“Bored.” he echoed. You can hear the smile in his voice. Know it well enough. Papers shifting, and being moved to the bedside table could be heard and the mattress bends under his weight as he slides closer to you. Peeking up at him you see, as expected, a soft smile on his face.

“Anything you want to do?”

“No.”

“Mmm.” caleb hums. His right hand moving the fallen hair from your face before slowly threading through it, untangling knots along the way. Your eyes slowly fall shut. A pleased sound from the back of your throat worms it way out.

“That. that’s what i wanna do” your muffled voice pushes past the soft fabric squished into your cheek.

Caleb chuckles. You can feel the sound burry itself deep in your chest.. “Oh really now? Sometimes I think you’re just using me for my head scratching abilities” he teases, but continues to run his fingers gently through your hair.

“I am.” you turn your face from the doona, seeing him already looking at you. “So chop chop.” you smirk, twisting your legs from where they were tangled up and now fully stretching out. Feeling the muscles in your calves flex and pull before curling them up, pressing them against Caleb's legs, almost cocooning him. 

“Just like a cat.”

“A cute cat”

“A stinky cat. Seriously. When was the last time you showered?” he leans down a little, sniffing the air and scrunching his nose. The hint of a smirk on his lips.

“I’ll bite you.” you huffed, unable to hide the smile from your own face.

“Feisty kitty cat.” 

A comfortable silence filled the room as Caleb finger combed out your hair. You had let your eyes fall shut again, letting the feeling of it wash over you. Caleb was always willing to play with your hair. Whether it be from you shyly walking up to him with your hair brush, eyes big and pleading. To making sure it was dry before going to bed. The sound of the hair dryer and both your laughs filling the small bathroom space. Caleb was always willing to do anything you asked of him. Sure sometimes he would tease you about it, or hum and haw before ‘giving’ in. He always enjoys seeing the puff of your cheeks and the way your eyebrows draw together when he makes you work a little for it, but that was all in the fun of it.

By now the golden light of the sun bathed the room in his soft glow. Your soft breathing mixed with his the only sound. He wasn’t sure if you’d fallen asleep but it wouldn't be the first time.

“Hey, pip?” he whispered, just in case.

A grunt could be heard while you shifted your head slightly. Bleary eyes peeking up at him. “What.” 

“Just making sure you haven't fallen asleep. Don’t need you stinking my bed.” His voice was still hushed. Not really wanting to break the tired spell from the room.

You turned your head back into the sheets, rubbing your tired face into them and taking a deep inhale. Letting Caleb's scent flood your lungs and become your life source for a moment. You stayed like that for a minute and Caleb was sure you actually fell asleep that time. As he lets his hand still in your hair you finally speak up, turning your head and then body to lay on your back. His hand falling from your head. 

“I’m a joy to be around, you know. Don’t be so mean.”

“Hmm. Isn’t that what your teachers use to say about you?” He pokes the tip of your nose, letting his finger slide and curve as his knuckle runs down your cheek. 

You stretch your arms in the air above you, fingers spreading out and curling before dropping him on your stomach. “Yup!” you made sure to pop the ‘P’, head lolling to the side to look at Caleb. “I’m a joy and excel in my studies. I make fast friends and dont cause a fuss in the class.” You list off, head bouncing from side to side. “So honestly, you should be lucky to be around me.” 

Caleb lets his eyes wander around your face as you talk, a small smile ghosting his lips. Just taking in the sight before him. A sight he never gets tired of seeing.A sight he knows well. A sight that greets him most nights when he closes his eyes. “I am.” He said truthfully. 

[puckinghischier]

wait i’m crying imagine helping luke with his curl routine and you being the only person he trusts to touch his hair

“luke, hold still,” you tell him, massaging the diffuser around his head.

“it tickles. and it’s really warm,” he argues, twitching again, causing you to huff in frustration.

luke’s currently crouched down in front of you in his en-suite bathroom, sitting not so still while you try to do his newly implemented curl routine.

“honeybee, my knees hurt, we gotta take a break,” he pleads, bouncing slightly.

you turn off the hair dryer and let him stretch his legs to his full height.

“you know, if you’d let me make you an appointment at a salon we wouldn’t be in this predicament,” you tell him, looking up at his lop-sided curls.

a few weeks ago you convinced luke to start a curl care routine, knowing his hair was in desperate need of some TLC. when you first started dating, you saw the 3in1 bottle sitting in his otherwise empty shower and immediately dragged him to the nearest salon supply store to get a curl specific shampoo and conditioner set.

once he finally agreed to start a whole routine (with your help, of course) you picked out several creams and gels to lather into his hair after every shower.

so your new pre-bedtime routine, three nights out of the week, is making sure his hair is hydrated and taken care of. when you suggested letting a professional do a generalized curl care appointment to get him started, luke refused, arguing that you could do it just as good as any salon can.

“i told you, i don’t want them touching my hair,” he reiterates to you, giving the same response every time you suggest it to him.

“luke, they’re literally professionals. they know tricks that i don’t. maybe they could even do something to your hair that lasts for a few weeks, so we wouldn’t have to do this several nights a week. plus, it would help when you’re on the road,” you try to persuade him, reaching up and ruffling his curls around with both hands, trying to keep it from drying unevenly.

the first time he was on the road and it was a hair night, you tried to call him and walk him through it, but he claimed his hair didn’t turn out as soft and shiny as when you do it.

the next time, you had jack come and watch how you did it one night, having him step in to help luke since they typically room together, but he said jack didn’t do it right and he came out looking like he had a clown afro the next day.

“i don’t care. it’s just hair, it can wait until i’m back home,” he grabs your hands, pulling them from his hair and placing them on his shoulders.

you scoff in offense, swatting at his chest. “it is not just hair. it’s one of my favorite features of yours!”

“still doesn’t mean i’m going to let some stranger at a salon get all touchy with it,” he shrugs.

you roll your eyes at his stubbornness, not knowing why it’s such a big deal.

“if you don’t want to spend the money on it, i’ll literally pay for it. i just think it’d do some good, i don’t know why you’re so against it,” you offer.

luke shakes his head no, reaching up to move a stray piece of your own hair out of your face. “s’not the money,” he assures you. “it won’t feel as good as when you do it. love the feeling of your fingers all in my hair. s’comforting,” he says so casually, not even aware that his words caused butterflies to erupt in your belly.

you feel your face flush, biting your lip to hide the smile trying to break out on your face.

“well i’m not saying i’ll stop doing it. i’m just saying that maybe a trip to a salon once a month might prevent more bad hair days on the road,” you try to compromise, not wanting him to know how much his words affected you. you didn’t want to give him more reasons to refuse the idea.

“and i’m just saying, i don’t want anyone but you touching my hair,” he leans down to press his forehead against yours, locking his wide eyes onto yours dramatically.

before you can get a reply out of your mouth, he leans forward and presses his lips to yours, taking your hands off of his shoulders and bringing them up to his hair, emphasizing his point.

you toy with the flat curls, forgetting what you were meant to be doing until your fingers came into contact with a wet patch.

pulling back from the kiss abruptly, luke lets out a frustrated whine while chasing your lips with his.

“we have to finish drying your hair! if i don’t finish it soon it’s gonna dry all flat on one side because we didn’t diffuse it properly,” you pull back from him completely, grabbing the abandoned hair dryer on the counter.

luke groans, stomping over to stand in front of you, crouching back into his earlier position.

“just hurry. if we do this too much longer i’m going to have to tell my coach i can’t skate because i have stiff knees from my girlfriend’s curl routine she makes me do,” he crosses his arm and pouts like a child.

“keep up the whining and i’ll make jack do it next time,” you threaten, turning the hairdryer on and continuing the task at hand.

luke’s body tenses. “i swear to god if you bring jack over here to do my hair again i’m shaving it off.”

“you wouldn’t,” you gasp at him, not believing he just said such a thing.

“try me,” he responds, smirking at you through the large mirror.

[revelboo]

Invisible Monsters Pt 2

Lost Light Megatron x Reader-forgiveness

• One arm still cradling the empty cube, the other stretched out over the bar so his cheek can lay on it, you’re caught in a mix of pity for Trailbreaker and indignant anger that Swerve had just kept serving him. You hadn’t known what to make of the fact that they could get drunk or that Swerve and Whirl both find drunk Trailbreaker hilarious. Most of the time. They’d both lost interest as soon as he made the inevitable buzzed slide to depressed muttering. You’d watched the whole mortifying show with the same horrified fascination usually reserved for truly awful train wrecks.

• And at some point, Whirl had ditched you. Leaving you with Trailbreaker since there’s no way to get off the bar top Whirl had plopped you on without a broken neck. The big mech’s been silent long enough that you think he might finally be recharging, but you still keep well out of his reach.

• Neck craning to stare at Swerve on the other side of the bar, you wait for him to remember you’re still trapped. Because the only way to get to him is by climbing over Trailbreaker’s arm and hoping you don’t get swatted in his drunken stupor. No thank you.

• You’re relieved as soon as you spot Rodimus entering the bar and you lift an arm to get his attention. That grin as his optics light on you makes your stomach drop, though. You know that look. Sure enough, the red and orange mech was looking for you. Probably for something you’re not going to like. A certainty that grows with icy dread as he comes over, reaching for you.

• For a heartbeat, you tense and seriously consider taking your chances with the passed out drunk. Shoulders slumping, you allow the co-captain to scoop you up. “There you are,” he says, voice cheerful which set off all sorts of alarm bells. And then he’s walking with you trapped in his servos.

• “I’m not going to like whatever this is, am I?” You ask, clinging to his servos as his quick stride almost makes you fall. A grin is your only answer and you groan. It’s going to be bad. Definitely bad.

• As soon as you spot the massive, intimidating form of Megatron on the bridge, you wilt. Especially as Rodimus heads right for him with a cheery, “Hold this for me,” and thrusts you at the huge mech. Heart nearly stopping as Megatron instinctively reaches to catch you as you fall a foot or so into his hands with a yelp.

• Surprised to say the least, Megatron cups his hands around the tiny form that’s just been dumped into his hands. “Rodimus,” he growls, as the human glares at the younger mech.

• Backing away toward the door of the bridge so Megatron can’t try and give you back, he folds his hands behind his back. “Remember that asteroid field I piloted us through?”

• “The one I specifically said not to fly through?” Megatron asks, servos starting to curl into fists when a little hand lands on one. Startled, he glances down at you in his palm and forces himself to relax before turning his attention back on Rodimus. “Yes. I remember.”

• “Oh, good. Great,” Rodimus’s optics dart to you in Megatron’s hands. “So on a completely unrelated note, apparently one of the engines is now inoperable. Gotta go.”

• And he bails, leaving you in the former warlord’s hands. That jerk. “Seriously?” You growl, anger faltering as Megatron looks at you. And sure, he’s been gentle with you so far, but he’s huge and Whirl’s told you stories. Horrific, traumatizing stories that don’t quite mesh up with what little you’ve seen of him so far. This mech isn’t some bloodthirsty monster. He’s just a perpetually exhausted adult having to deal with nonstop stupidity. And he is tired if the way he vents with a soft growl is any indication.

• Casting about, Megatron isn’t sure what to do with you now. Set you down and let you wander the halls or just wait until Rung or someone else remembers to look for you? Anything but hold you in his palms as you look up at him with wariness, but not hate. You should despise him for what he’s done to your kind and your world. So why don’t you?

• Seeming to resign yourself to being stuck with him, you curl your legs up under you. Make yourself comfortable in his grip. “He looks up to you, you know.” The soft words surprise him as he frowns down at you in his hand before heading to his chair. It feels almost blasphemous to cradle your warm, little body and feel the steady beat of your heart against his servos. Something soft that was never meant for him.

• “Hardly,” he says, tensing as you jump lightly from his palm onto the arm of the chair to look around. “They’re all afraid of me.” Like you should be. Such a fragile thing, you shouldn’t fearlessly meet his optics. The almost sympathetic, wry twist of your smile as you spread your arms and walk to the edge of the flat surface, cuts him.

• “Everyone makes mistakes,” you tell him, head tipped up to study the empty vastness of space. Huffing softly, he sinks back in his chair. You dare sum up all the wrongness as just a mistake? He can’t understand how easily you can forgive and move on, but maybe, short lived creatures have to be able to let go because of just how short their lives are. Maybe they can’t afford to cling to old grudges. Or maybe it’s just you in particular.

Previous Next

[spotsupstuff]

How do you make your drawings so expressive, especially in the facial expressions? I want to make my character drawings more expressive and I'm not really sure how to do so, so any advice on it, especially with expressions, would be very appreciated!

Great timing, right when I'm having a crisis about my abilities. -face in hands- I will Attempt to explain my processes around expressiveness to my best ability, however.

• What helps expressions quite a bit is asymmetry. I realized this some years ago, before I would be maticulously trying to achieve perfect symmetry.

One eye bigger than the other, adds to dynamicness of the expression, along with line of flow to the eyebrows.

• I'm fairly convinced even the smallest details can affect an expression.

• Lack of information is an expression, too.

Aka, leaving large amount of expression (if not whole) up to interpretation of the audience, but setting the general vibe by other means, OR using it as a set up for a funny reveal because lack of actually seeing the face gives it all an air of seriousness, usually.

• Imperfections and anatomical nonsensibility spawn their own specific feelings.

She has no business having that giant or small eyes, the mouth is too big, she doesn't have shark teeth like in the first picture, she doesn't have a tongue. He's got a mouth outside of the boundaries of his face. Those things help to say something, though.

Good example are also meme emoji drawings. These kinds have hyperspecific expressions, which is what sells them as memes, even if the reposter of the meme doesn't consciously picks up on it

• Posing, angles of camera, details within the anatomy, tiny adjustments within the facial features, add greatly.

To note here: slacked shoulders, different rotation of the torso, different angle of the torso (from below vs. more head on), neck squished by the shoulders vs stretched by the relaxation, mouth placed unrealistic more to the side vs placed more realistically and slightly open, eyes squinted on their bottom (flexing of the cheek muscles) vs relaxation [giving a more ,,In that moment, his expression fell", quite literally thanks to the relaxation], less extreme frown - the eyebrows are more leveled than arched - this gives more "concern" vibe than "anger" vibe.

-- example of posing:

-- example of angle:

In the case of characters with limited facial features (like Iterators, just eyes), one has to rely more on posing, anatomy details and angles. Exaggeration with both their lone facial feature and posing is a good idea, just gotta find the right balance between It and your desired weight of reality in the scene.

Outside aspects like the little anime expression signal thingies help out, too.

• And ofc also looking into animal behaviour to apply them to inhuman features boosts expressiveness.

Anatomical notes: jaw is hinged to the rest of the skull, meaning lowering it, moving it side to side and clenching it helps an expression come more alive.

Lips have their own volume, sticking them out from profile is Good. Shoulders are like another joint in arms- by which I mean the true root/anchor of an arm is more the point where clavicles connect to the sternum than the shoulder itself. They can be moved forwards and backwards. Moving them forwards for example boosts the feeling of curling in on self.

Here's an older compilation of Euros having a shit day for analyzation if you'd like.

[grudgecollector]

Little Lamb

Pairing: Poly TLB / Fem!Reader Request: Ok i finally came up with a request for you that as been on my mind for a hot minute. So i was thinking a poly lost boys (or just dwayne or paul if you don't wanna write for poly i don't mind which one) with a fem s/o who just loves doing their hair and styling their outfits, maybe putting makeup on them? Vampires cant see themselves in the mirror so they gotta make sure they look dope somehow! Why not help each other out! Maybe if she's a vampire to they like to return the favor. I have no clue why this just seems like an adorable thing to do. Story Summary: A peaceful night at the Emerson household has you reminiscing about the past Words: 2k Tags/Warnings: The boys live!AU, slight canon plot changes, slight angst, reader having a toxic home life, some fluff A/N: So this may or may not have a part 2, this plot kind of sprang itself on me out of nowhere to be honest. Also sorry that it kind of jumps around a bunch, hopefully it makes sense. It's been a while since I've written for the boys so my brain was going crazy.

@aviradasa

The Emerson household was alight with life, laughter bouncing off the expansive walls and high sitting ceiling. There was a warm glow from the fireplace, the chill of what could classify as a rainy winter day in Santa Carla quickly snuffed out. The sound of crackling wood blended with the music that played throughout the living room, Creedence Clearwater Revival’s Suzie Q washing over you in a beautiful symphony. 

Warmth from the fire crawled up your back as you stood behind Paul, who had perched himself happily on a chair brought in from the dining table. 

“Can you stay still?” Your hands settling on Paul’s shoulders, a small smile finding its way to your lips. 

His foot bounced harshly against the coral colored carpet on the living room floor, making it harder for you to work on his hair like he had requested. And you didn’t want to risk accidentally burning the back of his neck with your hair straightener, even if it wouldn’t actually do much damage to his cold skin. 

Paul’s hair was tangled and ratty, stiff from overuse of a product that you were sure was probably long expired. It took thirty minutes of brushing, and gentle tugging, before you could finally run your fingers freely through the thick golden locks. 

“Sorry, sweetcheeks.” He chuckled softly, tilting his head back with a soft smile. 

The rest of the boys were scattered about the downstairs of the house. 

Dwayne was sitting on the couch, long legs stretched across the cushions of the couch, ankles crossed as he listened to Sam gush about a new comic he had recently bought. Occasionally, the teenager would flip through the colorful pages, showing Dwayne the fight scenes he thought were particularly cool. 

David was standing next to Michael, staring down at his Grandfather’s old taxidermy work. They laughed quietly amongst themselves as Michael pointed at the dust covered fox's beady eyes, clearly not made as carefully as his more recent works. 

“This thing is fuckin’ freaky, man.” You could hear Michael say as he picked up a beaver with similar beady eyes. David laughed as he poked the glassy faux eyes with his fingers. 

Marko was in the kitchen with Star and Laddie, finding the table a perfect place to sit themselves as Marko taught her how to properly sew patches onto her jacket. 

You ruffled Paul’s hair, finally done styling the top to be big and wild like he usually had it. What would have been a choppy fringe was curled back, small tufts of hair curling back, making his hair look like a golden ocean of subtle waviness. 

“Alright hair’s done.” You say finally, setting down the half empty can of hairspray on the coffee table. 

“Sweet! Dwayne, how do I look, man?” Paul leans forward a little, hands tapping against his knees excitedly. 

Sam looks over at the blonde, lips quirked up in a smirk “Like an idiot.” The teenager replies, laughing as the vampire shoots him a glare. 

“I wasn’t asking for your opinion, squirt. So butt out.” 

Their tones were light and joking, no real malice behind their jabs. 

It was nice to see that things could smooth over as well as they did after everything that happened two years ago between the Emersons, Max, and the boys. A chaotic fight that ended with Max being torn apart by the six vampires. 

The decades of built up anger of his four “sons” reared its wicked head in those final moments. His own creations turned him into nothing, their loyalty had been worn thin long ago. Pieces of torn flesh and scattered limbs was all that remained of his once looming body. 

After Max’s death there was no change within the group, the icy grip of immortality still holding tight. A false hope instilled by the Frog brothers, thinking that if the head vampire was killed, it would end everything.

To Michael and Star it was a saddening defeat, disappointment clouding their brains for months on end as they were both forced to come to terms with their new life. 

“Max was turned by an old vampire long before I was even a concept to the world. The true “Head Vampire” as you like to call it. It would be almost impossible to find him now.” David had told them a few nights after, growing tired of Michaels complaining. 

“The elders hide in the shadows, they aren’t fond of taking risks. The way they live… It’s honestly pathetic.” He chuckled, inhaling what remained of his cigarette before crushing it under his boot.

“So you just expect us to live like this? Like fucking monsters?” Michael glared at him, fists clenching at his sides in irritation.

“Lighten up Emerson, it ain’t all that bad. You’ll see that.” David winked at his unwilling companion, whirling himself around to bark orders at the other vampires.

Their adjustment was chaotic, Star and Michael were on a warpath that needed to be snuffed out quickly before more eyes shifted in their direction.

While humans would never suspect something as impossible as vampires, murderers were never a far away concept. 

“You look good Paul.” Dwayne mused, flipping through the comic Sam handed him. 

“Awesome.” He smiles, standing quickly and turning to kiss you on the cheek, “You’re the best, sweetheart.” 

Marko steps into the living room with a jingle to his step, shaking his jacket a little as he holds it up for you to look at. The new patch he had sewn on was a beautiful piece of art he had cut out from a cloth canvas, a dark castle with subtle moon light casting over the tower peaks. 

The jacket was a little newer and darker in contrast to the much more colorful one he usually wore. Most of the things sewn on or hanging from it were things gifted to him by you, Star, and the other boys. He had been working on it for a good month or two now. 

“What’cha think?” He asked, “I might end up covering most of it up with more patches. It feels too empty.” He mused, running his index finger over the empty black spaces that stretched past the castle itself. “Paul found some old bottle caps in the cave a few weeks ago, was thinking about using those. Maybe cut up some old shirts, not sure.” 

Your eyes drift over towards your duffle bag, having been spending the last night or two sleeping on the couch in the Emerson household. 

Your parents were fighting again, and you couldn’t stand being stuck in such a volatile home. 

Typically you would find yourself sleeping in the overly decorated corner you had taken up in the cave, but the winding roads were slick from the recent rain storms, a rare but welcome shower to quench the thirst of overly dry foliage. 

So you found yourself rubbing your teary eyes on the doorstep, Lucy’s small hands ushering you inside with a kind smile. She didn’t think to pry too much, knowing the environment you grew up in after the many simple talks the two of you have had. 

She was more of a mother to you than your own, understanding, comforting, always welcoming you with open arms. 

Your fingers tugged on the zipper quickly, digging through your clothes until you fished out an old shirt. 

A woman’s painted eyes stared back at you, her fingers twisting oddly above a dark blue crystal ball, dark burgundy scarf covering most of her wild hair, heavy makeup darkening her bright green eyes, the background of the picture was filled with twisting dark purple and pink curtains. The picture adopted quite a similar darkness that adorned Marko’s new project. 

“You could use this too, I don’t wear it much anymore.” 

He grabbed it from your hand, examining it before smiling. “Hell yeah. Thanks babe.” He made his way back over to the kitchen.

Truthfully you just grabbed whatever your hands touched before stuffing it into your duffle bag, trying to get out of that house as quickly as you possibly could. Most of the shirts you had grabbed in your rush didn’t fit anymore, that being one of them. 

There was a slight pang deep in your chest, guilt clawing at your throat. 

What else were you meant to do? You wasted away most of your life acting as a shield for your mother, taking the brunt of your step dad’s abuse in order to keep her safe. The truth was that you were simply tired now, no longer sporting the clouded mind of a confused teenager, hell bent on bringing her broken family back together. 

A sigh falls from your lips sadly. Your ears perk up slightly as you hear the all too familiar ring of spurs on David’s boots. The black steel toes came into your line of sight as you closed the duffle bag again. 

You look up at him with a small forced smile, taking his extended hand. His gloved fingers came up to your cheek, the leathery thumb stroking across your skin as he asked-

“What’s on your mind, doll?” A voice ushered you from your deep thoughts, your fingernails stilling against the dry blood on your knuckles. Your eyes stayed glued to the railing of the boardwalk, unable to look up and allow him- whoever he was- to see the pathetic sadness in your eyes.

“Can I help you with something?” The reply was cold, uninterested in having a conversation with overly curious strangers. 

“Well… I don’t think it’s me that’s in need of helping.” There was a light chuckle that came from his lips, “You just looked lonely is all.” 

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, pushing yourself away from the railing. You internally prepare yourself to scold the stranger for bothering you. 

Your glare softened though once you looked at him. His piercing eyes swirled with amusement. He was a lot more attractive than you previously assumed he would be, falsely believing that he would be some worn down drunkard looking to score a night alone with a lady. 

No, he was beautiful, piercing blue eyes boring straight into your soul, as if he was trying to read your mind. 

There was the scruffy start of a beard on his face, an almost flirtatious smirk playing at his dusty pink lips, his blonde hair was styled to stand on the top of his head before sweeping down into a mullet. He wore dark clothes, a layering of a leather jacket, trench coat, and a simple black shirt beneath it all. 

He was unlike anyone you had seen walking along the boardwalk. It was almost hypnotizing, drawing you in without your knowledge. He was like a venus flytrap, dangerous yet alluring. 

“You look like you need a distraction.”

And a distraction it was. You spent the whole night walking along the boardwalk talking with David, his faithful companions not far behind. You know now that you would have suffered the same fate as Michael and Star if you had taken up his offer for a ride. 

But even with your caution, you would continue to seek out David’s presence on the nights you walked beneath the neon glow. Your eyes would wander the throngs of tourists scattered along the boardwalk, hoping to catch a glimpse of the mysterious blonde. 

“I’m just worried about my mom.” You finally replied, unable to hide the truth from him. 

“I already told you we could deal with that step dad of yours.” David replied softly, he was always so tender with you. 

You couldn’t help but smile a little before rolling your eyes, already having this conversation more times than you could count on both hands “David…” Your tone was light. 

“I’m just sayin’.” He smirked, holding one hand up in surrender, “I hate seeing you down.” 

You felt another pair of arms slide around your waist from behind, Paul’s gaze meeting David’s with a teasing glint. 

“Such a big softie, isn’t he?” The blonde chuckled, brushing his nose against the back of your ear lightly before bringing his forehead to your shoulder, “I’m so fucking bored. Can we please go do something.” 

You couldn't stop the light laugh that came from you, an all too familiar sentence leaving your mouth.

"What do you have in mind?"

You could practically hear the echo of David's reply ring through your ears, that night flashing through your mind briefly.

“Oh, I’m sure we can find something to entertain ourselves tonight. Isn’t that right boys?”

[sugardollcurse]

I'm a Ringo fan and I just LOVE the way you write him, I always leave satisfied when I read your Ringo hcs AND that Ringo fic you wrote, totally amazing♡♡♡ I would like to request another Ringo fic bcs there aren't enough fics in this ringomaniac world... I would like a Ringo fic, anything you want really, maybe cozy mornings, a day where he is the one who cooks, just anything! And again, I LOVE everything you do, peace and love!!!

𝑠𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 | ringo starr x reader

𐙚 summary ; ringo makes breakfast in nothing but boxers and a grin. you don’t get out of bed ‘til noon.

𐙚 note ; you get it. i swear there’s no comfort like writing ringo at his softest. peace and love always !!!

The sun crept in like it knew it was being rude.

Yellow streaks spilled across the bedsheets, lighting the tangled limbs and discarded t-shirt on the floor, the little record player in the corner with its lid half-shut and something still humming low because neither of you’d gotten up to stop it. The apartment smelled like warmth and dust and sleep.

You rolled over with a groan, cheek pressed into the pillow.

Ringo was gone.

Well, not gone. You could still hear him. Somewhere in the flat. Clanging.

You blinked slowly, head buried beneath the duvet, trying to place the noise. Something metal, something clumsy.

Then you smelled it. Butter. Bread. Was that eggs?

Your heart fluttered.

Ringo had said he was gonna cook this weekend, but he also said that about fixing the bookshelf and watching Dr. Zhivago with you. You’d learned to love the promises even when they dissolved like smoke. He meant them. But today… maybe he meant this one more.

You groaned again, curling into yourself, stretching your toes under the sheets.

Then-

“Aye!” he called from the kitchen. “Don’t think I don’t hear y’tossin’ around!"

You laughed, a sleepy huff into the pillow. “How d’you know I’m awake?”

“’Cause you always make that noise like you’re bein’ murdered when you stretch. S’nothin’ short of dramatic, that.”

You sat up, rubbing at your eyes. Your voice was hoarse with sleep. “You're makin’ breakfast?”

A pause. A suspicious sizzle.

“…depends how y’determine breakfast. Might be brunch by now. Or early tea.”

You dragged the duvet off and made your way down the narrow hallway in socks. The flat was old, with squeaky floorboards and weird little alcoves, and you loved every inch of it. Especially the kitchen.

There he was. Back to you, standing at the stove in nothing but his boxers and an apron that said “Kiss the Cook” in red paint. His hair was flat on one side, puffy on the other.

“You would wear that apron,” you muttered.

He turned, spatula in hand, big grin plastered across his face. “’Course I would. Gotta advertise, haven’t I?”

You leaned against the doorframe, watching. “What's all this?”

“Well, I made eggs, see, scrambled, then did toast, but I burnt the first two slices so you’re gettin’ the golden ones, not the test batch-aren’t you lucky-then I thought, well I’ll slice some avocado, right, real posh like. And then I thought, what if we want beans too?”

“Do we want beans?”

“I dunno. I just wanted to make enough noise that you’d come in and kiss me.”

You laughed and crossed the kitchen to do exactly that. He kissed you like he hadn’t seen you in weeks, hand on your hip, thumb brushing the hem of your shirt, warm and unhurried.

“Mornin’,” he murmured against your lips.

“’S not morning anymore.”

“Still counts if we haven’t eaten.”

You leaned into him, eyes closed. “You’re warm.”

“I’m cookin’, love. My arse is roastin’. Should’ve put trousers on.”

“You should’ve turned on the fan.”

Ringo looked toward the greasy little fan over the stove, then shrugged. “Adds to the charm. Keeps me sweatin’.”

You swatted his stomach and he grinned. “Table’s set. Sort of.”

He wasn’t lying. There were two plates, a butter knife, and a spoon that absolutely wasn’t needed for anything, but it was lying between them like it belonged. A single napkin sat balled near the edge. And in the middle: a little stubby candle in a wine bottle, half-burnt from last night, when you’d split a bottle of red and played cards with your feet in his lap.

You sat. He served.

He poured tea for both of you, two sugars for you, one for him. He did it without asking. Then he slid the food in front of you with a chef’s flourish.

You stared at your plate.

“Is that a heart-shaped egg?”

He raised both eyebrows. “You noticed!”

You laughed into your tea. “It’s lopsided.”

“S’how you know it’s genuine.”

You dug in, and to your surprise, it was good. The toast was buttery and crisp. The eggs were soft, a little peppery. The avocado was… well, it was avocado. But he’d sliced it with the love of a man preparing a wedding feast.

You hummed around a mouthful. “Richie…”

He perked up like a puppy. “Yeah?”

“This is a normal breakfast.”

He puffed up. Actually puffed. Shoulders back, chest out, doing a mock-bow in the chair.

“I accept awards in the form of snogs.”

You leaned over the table and kissed him again, slower this time. The candle wax had melted into the woodgrain. Your fingers brushed his.

You didn’t even realize you were smiling ‘til he reached over and traced the curve of your cheek with his thumb.

“I like seein’ you like this,” he said.

You swallowed. “Like what?”

“Happy. All soft and sweet. Like I did somethin’ right.”

You rolled your eyes, but it came out too gentle to mean it. “You do things right. All the time.”

“Not always.”

“No one does.”

He didn’t answer. He just kept looking at you like he couldn’t believe his luck. Like the candlelight and the cheap toast and your hair mussed from sleep was something out of a dream he wasn’t done having yet.

You set your tea down. “Richie?”

“Mm?”

“Stay like this with me. All day.”

He grinned. “Thought you’d never ask.”

taglist: @sharksausages, @wavvytin, @wimpyvamps, @finallyforgotten, @lennongirlieee, @silly-lil-lee, @alanangels, @wisepainterprince

[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

Hello!! For a fanfic, could you write one about lovestruck! Johnny trying to ask out oblivious! fem reader on a Valentine's date?

Johnny Knoxville X Oblivious!Y/N

Johnny Knoxville X Fem!Y/N

Warnings: Suggestive content, medical settings, flirting, obliviousness

An: Thank you for your request!! I had some trouble figuring out what kind of setup would involve someone Johnny was arround frequently, and given it is one of my most popular serieses, I decided to go with Medic! Reader! Thank you for requesting, and please keep sending more!

“Well, there goes my modeling career…” Johnny murmured, one corner of his mouth curling up as he turned to one side.

Inspecting the cut on his cheek intently, your nitrile-gloved touch felt feather light- angel fingers. This is why Knoxville always loved trips to the medic tent…

“I’m sure you’ll be fine-“ You went to grab a bandaid from the med kit, “Just keep it covered for a bit, alright?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Johnny watched you pivot to scrounge around in a big, slumping bag of Dum Dums.

As the medic, you started handing out out candy because you thought it would be funny to ask a grown man if he wanted a sucker for being so brave

Knoxville saw this as you trying to brighten up the set, and he thought it was just the sweetest thing- no pun intended.

Watching him swagger out the med tent like he’d just won the lottery, Bam was itching to see what was up, “Dude- what’s with the Nelly bandaid?”

Swatting his hand away, Johnny ignored him for the butterscotch flavored hunk of sugar in his mouth- his favorite flavor. You remembered that…

Just like how you started picking up how his injuries gradually became less and less severe, yet more frequent.

“Viper?” Steve showed you the smattering of bite marks across his forearm. A hiss slipped through his teeth as you gently dabbed it with alcohol, “Nah- cobra…”

With a flutter, the med tent flaps flew open! Pitifully, Knoxville limped in on one floppy, Conversed ankle, groaning, pain wrinkling his brow.

“Alright, just-“ Looking between the two, you put your hands on Steve’s shoulders and hoisted him up with a flustered huff, “come back in a few minutes, alright?”

Examining that ‘sprained’ ankle that hung limp in your grasp, you wondered what he was doing that was so dangerous that somehow, standards and practices had nothing to say about…

Glancing up, you completely missed the dreaminess in his eyes, “I mean…if you wanna lollipop, you could just ask. I-I gotta big bag of em!”

Cue confusion painting Knoxville’s features before he put two and two together. “Ah- don’t worry about it!” He lied through those perfect teeth…

Coincidentally, the next week, you came to hear the story of how Johnny got his ass bit doing that ‘Bad Dog’ stunt.

Working alongside his PT, you made sure he had all the care he needed on set! And Knoxville wasn’t complaining about having your hands on his waist, guiding him through his stretches…

And, of course, your boobs were squished up against his back. Through your little sessions, he kept laying on the charm,

“You smell really nice, Y/N…” Knoxville gave you those soft, half-dead eyes that melted most women. But it seemed you were still ignoring his obvious flirting in the name of professionalism,

“Thats my deodorant!” “Ah, my favorite.”

One one of your last days filming, he stoped you on your way to craft services with a gentle hand on your shoulder, “Hey, hey- Y’gotta sec?”

Johnny’s voice dropped with uncharacteristic earnestness as you slowed down to talk. “I, uh- just wanted’t thank you for putting up with us idiots. I was thinkin’, maybe I could…take you out to dinner sometime?”

“Oh, sure!” You chirped with a smile.

Now, given the nice, personable guy he was, you went into this expecting that Knoxville invited you and the rest of the cast and crew- you were essentially one big, dysfunctional family,

However, when you showed up to that fancy, LA restaurant, you were greeted by a dim dining room full of couples at intimate, little tables…

Part of the blame could’ve been placed on you not checking the date, but hell- you assumed the place was just popular!

Smiling, you walked over to where Johnny was sitting in the only nice clothes you’d ever seen him wear, glancing around the room, “So, where’s everyone else?”

“Everyone else…?” It took Knoxville a second. Leaning against the table to be closer to you, he dropped his voice, “I was asking you on a date, Y/N.”

Finally, the pieces came together!

Admittedly, you caught your gaze lingering on him from time to time on set, but you would’ve never thought to pursue anything with him- unless he reciprocated, of course…

“Wow! I, uh- I had no idea!” Yeah, awkward… after a blushing, tense silence, you added, fiddling with your hands, “I mean…I’d still like t’have dinner with you.”

Smirking, Johnny stood up and pulled out the chair for you.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Stolen Goods 1

Warnings: noncon and other dark elements. As usual, be mindful of your content consumption.

Ft. Lloyd Hansen, petite!pregnant reader

I also beg of you to leave me some tuppence in the form of a comment and/or reblog. You are cherished!

Enjoy, my loverlies.

You always felt small. Shelves, table, counters, even chairs made your shortcoming, pun intended, more obvious. Even at the one time in your life when you should feel big, you feel even tinier. 

The rounder your stomach becomes, the smaller the rest of your seems. It really doesn't feel like a part of you. That life inside you that has your shirts tighter by the say and the elastic stretching further and further.  

Swollen feet, hands, and chest, and yet you're still just a speck of dust in the wind. The grocery store so often adds to that sensation of insignificance. The cart rattles over the tile as you weave between other shoppers, veering out of the way as others turn corners without looking. Your progress down the list of needs is slower than usual but you're persistent. 

You stop in the bread section and peruse the assortment of rye and sourdough. You've been craving pumpernickel forever. You pick out a loaf and check your list. Bread crumbs... 

You spot your quarry and reach for the highest shelf. Of course it has to be all the way up there. You grunt and teeter on your toes, your goal made hard as your stomach keeps you from getting very close. 

“Allow me, sweetness,” a man says as he comes up behind you. 

You squeak in surprise as he crowds you and reaches up to grab the canister of crumbs. As he does, he presses himself to you, a none-too-subtle grind of his pelvis against your ass. You gasp and elbow him. 

“Ew, get off,” you squeal. 

“Now, now, honey buns, I got it,” he offers the canister, his arm hooking around to show the crumbs, “you just gotta say please.” 

“What the heck? Can you back up--” 

“Now, that’s not very polite, baby girl,” he shakes the crumbs and moves them away from your grasp as you try to snatch them. 

“I said back--” 

Your voice evaporates in shock and horror as he slaps your ass. You clutch the shelf and brace yourself as the force nearly has you crashing into the metal. You set your feet, regretting your choice of squishy and treadless slides, and he snakes his hand under your dress, trailing along the scalloped edge of your panties. 

“Stop,” you wisp, terrified at this man’s brazenness. Why is he doing this? How is no one else seeing this? 

His hand curls around and he stops as he touches your lower stomach. He hesitates and stretches his fingers over your bump. You’re only four-months but far enough that it’s obvious. 

“Shit,” he chortles and pushes his hand down, pressing against the front of your cotton panties, “someone beat me to it, huh?” 

He pokes the fabric between your folds with two fingers, wiggling them around. You shudder and squeeze the edge of the shelves. He creases the cotton between his fingers and pulls it aside. He pinches your thigh and you whimper as he kicks a foot between yours. 

“What--” you gasp and push back against him, trying to escape. “Please--” 

Your voice cracks and something inside you breaks. You can’t move or make a sound. He touches the tuft of hair along your pelvis and delves nakedly between your folds. You hold your breath as he toys with you, rubbing your clit dryly as he pushes his crotch against your back. 

What’s wrong with you? Why aren’t you doing anything? Why can’t you? 

He just carries on, rolling your bud under his fingers until you feel yourself react. It’s the hormones, not you. You’re scared, not weak. That’s what’s going on. What is going on? 

All at once, he retracts his hand. He leaves you quivering and wet and to your shame, wanting. He snickers again and tosses the canister so it lands in your cart. You cling to the shelves, legs shaking, and stare at the wrapped loaves in stunned silence. You hear him suck loudly on his fingers and hum. 

“Naughty mommy,” he tisks and struts away.  

You can’t move. You’re paralyzed in disbelief. That didn’t just happen. A stranger just touched you. Like that. And you’re wet. You look down as your knees buckle. 

You manage to move away from the shelves and look around. You can’t pick the man out from the scatter of shoppers puttering around like drones. His sleeve was black but half the men their have black jackets. Your lip trembles as your eyes brim with tears. You don’t know what to do. 

You turn to your cart and grab the handle, rolling it forward. Your eyes fall to the white and yellow canister that rolls across the bottom. You stop and skirt around to reach into the basket, looking around before you bend to fish out the bread crumbs. You place them on the table of croissants nearby and push the cart onward. 

You’ll do grilled instead of fried. You never want to think of what happened again. You hope you never see that man again. Would you even know him at a glance? 

[fawnistry]

ᥫ᭡ dead dove: do not eat.

content warnings: dubcon, power imbalance, possessive, rough/forceful, marking/biting, size kink, emotional manipulation, unprotected sex, breeding kink.

▷ preview: after a near-kidnapping, your wealthy family hires toji as your personal bodyguard. he’s supposed to protect you, but the way he touches you when he “checks for weapons” isn’t professional. the way he pins you against the wall when you try to sneak out isn’t just about keeping you safe.and when he finally snaps? you realize too late that you’re his now.

the first time toji lays hands on you, it’s under the guise of safety. "gotta check you for weapons, princess," he murmurs, voice rough as his big hands slide over your body. his touch lingers too long, fingers brushing the underside of your breasts, dipping between your thighs just enough to make your breath hitch. "can’t be too careful," he says, but the smirk on his lips tells you this isn’t about protection.

you try to ignore it, the way your skin burns where he touches you. try to pretend you don’t notice the way his eyes darken when you squirm. but when you attempt to sneak out one night—just for some air, just to feel free—he’s there, slamming you against the wall before you can even reach the door.

"naughty girl," he growls, his body pressing you into the cold plaster. you can feel him, hard and unyielding against your back. one hand fists in your hair, yanking your head to the side so his lips can graze your ear. "you really think i’d let you go that easy?" his other hand slides down, cupping between your legs through your clothes, and you gasp. "fuck, you’re already wet for me. knew you wanted this."

you shake your head, denial on your lips, but he grinds his palm against you, cutting off your protest with a moan. "liar," he breathes, biting down on your neck hard enough to mark. "you’ve been begging for it since day one."

then his fingers are under your skirt, tearing your panties aside, and you’re not thinking about escape anymore. not when he’s pushing two thick fingers inside you, curling them just right, making your knees buckle. "that’s it," he rasps, fucking you with his hand, his other arm banded around your waist to keep you upright. "gonna make you come on my fingers, then on my cock. gonna ruin you for anyone else."

you whimper, hips jerking as he adds a third finger, stretching you painfully. "toji—"

"say my name again," he demands, twisting his wrist, thumb pressing against your clit. "say it when you come."

you do, sobbing it as pleasure crashes over you, your body clamping down around his fingers. but he doesn’t stop. just keeps working you through it, dragging out your orgasm until you’re shaking.

then he’s spinning you around, shoving your skirt up, and you see the hunger in his eyes—raw, possessive. "mine," he snarls, before yanking his cock free and slamming into you in one brutal thrust.

you scream, nails scraping at the wall as he fills you, too big, too much. he doesn’t give you time to adjust, just sets a punishing pace, each snap of his hips driving you harder into the wall. "should’ve known you’d take me so good," he groans, one hand gripping your hip hard enough to bruise. "gonna fuck you full, mark you up, make sure everyone knows who you belong to."

you’re sobbing now, oversensitive, but your body betrays you, clenching around him as another orgasm builds. "please—"

"please what?" he taunts, biting your shoulder. "please fuck you harder? please claim you?" his hand slides around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your vision blur. "too late, princess. you’re already mine."

when he comes, it’s with a growl, his teeth sinking into your skin as he pumps you full. and as he holds you there, trembling and ruined, you realize—he was never just your bodyguard.

you were always his prey.

[winterscaptain]

allegories.

Aaron Hotchner x GN!Reader

a/n: as promised, another chapter! this one is a little shorter, but my tentative plan right now is one chapter per week so i don’t go through my little bank so quickly! without further ado - your mean-it era family movie night <3

summary: “the hardest thing is loving someone and then having the courage to let them love you back. but if you know her shit and she knows yours, and at the end of the day if you still would rather give up than try, nothing’s ever going to be worth it.” - dana fox, the wedding date. november 12th, 2011. (between pleasures of the elder and not complaining)

words: 1.1k warnings: language, alcohol, overthinking & introspection (TM)

masterlist | the ajf masterlist is under construction | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next?

“It’ll be fun! And good for morale.” Emily sits on the corner of your desk, cajoling you into coming over for a movie night. “Hey! You can even bring your boy if you want.” 

“I wouldn’t subject my worst enemy to you guys when there’s alcohol present.” 

Emily snorts. “I have light beer,” she says, as if it excuses everything. 

“I’ll think about it,” you tell her.

She pulls a face. “Well, I’m asking Hotch.”

“...Okay.” You’re sure you’re looking at her like she’s lost it, but it’s only to cover a simple fact: If Aaron agrees to go, you will also be there. Emily knows it, too.

She confidently (and dare you say, smugly) walks up the steps to Aaron’s office, eyeing you the whole time. You roll your eyes and bow over your desk once more, making notes by hand that you will later type. It helps you think.

Your phone buzzes. 

4:23pm You told Emily you’d think about it, right?

You reply with a smile. 4:23pm Good guess.

4:24pm We’re going.4:24pm Sorry?

You roll your eyes, checking the window. He fiddles with his phone in one hand as Emily animatedly persuades him. The bemused smile on his face tells you Emily already won this battle.

+++

You already have a place on the couch - curled up in the middle with a blanket and a warm beverage. Derek’s ribs are a nice resting place for your knees on your left. Penelope takes a seat on the floor, some of Emily’s large cushions shoved against the couch so Penny can sit by Derek and be on the floor. Win-win in her book.

JJ and Emily are set up to share one of the two big armchairs, a blanket and big bowl of popcorn already waiting for them. Spencer will take the other, this one under the lamp so he can read.

Aaron sits beside you, but leaning away from you on the arm of the couch, legs extended with his ankles crossed. 

“Alright,” Emily says, handing Aaron a beer on her way to the chair without looking at him. “What are we watching?” 

“It’s Garcia’s pick,” Spencer says, turning a page. He doesn’t even look up. 

Penelope pulls a DVD out of her bag. “I know, I know, we have a moratorium on rom coms, but this one is so good.” 

Derek groans, his head falling against the back of the couch. “Baby girl, you’re killing me.” 

“It’s so cute, Derek, c’mon!” 

You share a smile with Aaron and turn back to Penelope. “What is it?” 

“It’s The Wedding Date.”

You purse your lips. It is a really cute movie. “Derek, I think you gotta give this one a shot.” 

He looks indignant. “Hotch, back me up here.” 

Aaron just raises an eyebrow at him. Derek gives up. 

“Fine. The Wedding Date, it is.” 

Penelope makes a little delighted noise as she rises to set up the movie, turning off the overhead light and slipping the DVD into the player. Derek gets settled, letting his arm rest along the back of the couch, against the back of your shoulders. In the dark, you readjust, stretching out just a little to get closer to Aaron.

You get settled further, letting Aaron have a corner of your blanket.

“Very generous, thank you,” he stage-whispers.

You chance a look at him and immediately have to stuff your smile. “Fine.” You drape more blanket over him and some over Derek for good measure, keeping a good share for yourself. 

“Don’t make me do a hand check over there,” Emily says with a grin. You, Derek, and Aaron all stare at her incredulously. 

You hand your mug over to Derek, untangling your other hand and flipping Emily off with both fingers. Derek joins you with his free hand.

+++

The light from the screen reflects off Aaron’s face in the dark. He’s invested, a little furrow in his brow as the conflict resolves on screen.

“When we were fighting last night, and I thought this was over, I realized something. I’d rather fight with you than make love with anyone else.”

You keep your gaze determinedly on the screen, even as you see Aaron’s eyes on you in the dark. You slide your hand toward him under the blanket and link your pinkie with his. To your delight, he holds you fast, wrapping his finger around yours. 

Unfortunately, that line gets you thinking. You feel uncomfortably seen by the conflict in this movie, as short-lived as it is.

Feeling gun-shy and terrified of your own feelings really is becoming exhausting. What would it be like, truly, to just… let it go? To love Aaron wholly and completely and let the trust you know you have in him settle into your bones? It feels like something you have to choose - you must decide to forgive him and move on. You’re not sure it will ever be something that just comes with time. 

But isn’t that what love is? A choice?

Maybe falling in love isn’t. It certainly wasn’t for you, with Aaron. In fact, your life would be so much easier if your heart didn’t need or want him, so much easier if your soul didn’t reach out with everything it has, extending its fingers toward him. 

Maybe staying in love is a choice, maybe forgiveness is, too. 

Your eyes fall away from the screen, staring off into the carpet, thinking. 

Would it be so scary? Would it be so bad?

Something in you, the raw, hurt part, cries yes! but if you let that little uncooked piece rule your decision-making… Well. It’s not worth considering.

The stakes feel enormous. What if it doesn’t work? What if it ruins the team? What if…

What if?

You could run yourself in circles all day long, but there is a choice before you. You can forgive him and move on, or you can drag this out and ruin perhaps the clearest beacon of opportunity you may ever see in your life. 

If only there was some kind of sign…

The finger around your pinkie pulses three times. I. Love. You. 

Damn it. There’s the sign. 

You risk it, looking over. You find his eyes in the dark, gentle and only a little worried. It’s alarming how fast he can pick up on your changes in state, how fast he can tell you’re not firmly planted on this cognitive plane anymore. 

You squeeze his pinkie once, twice. How. Much?

Two quick pulses, followed by a big squeeze. You can see his shoulder tighten with his effort and it almost pulls a visible smile from you. 

This. Much. !!!!

You look around for witnesses, finding Emily and Penelope watching the end of the movie, varying shades of interest on their faces. JJ dozes against Emily’s shoulder, her hair falling over her eyes. Spencer has almost finished his book, but looks up at you with a brief frog smile before returning to his reading. 

Derek has slumped into the other arm of the sofa, his face propped up by the web of his hand. He doesn’t look thrilled, but he’s certainly paying attention. 

Sucker.

Aaron flips his hand, lacing his fingers with yours. 

Maybe this isn’t such a hard choice. And honestly? You would rather fight with him than make love with anyone else. 

You decide, in that moment, that you will support any continuing resolution in favor of rom coms.

+++

taglist: @chronicallybubbly @derekluvbot @jhiddles03 (HI!!!) @soupyamanda @percysley @viennasolace @youngcowisland

[ghostlynightpanda]

Hello o/, if you’re still taking requests, I wanted to request a timeskip!Atsumu x reader fic. My birthday is coming up real soon, and the family member I was going to spend it with has to go into emergency surgery on my b-day. I’ve been feeling a bit down bc of this since I spend my birthday with this person every year. So I wanted to request a fic where Atsumu just spends the day taking care of reader on their birthday. I don’t particularly enjoy large gatherings for my bday, and am a big fan of just doing things (going to museums, trying new food places, aquariums) with the people closest to me. I do also play volleyball, so maybe they go watch a game together. I really enjoy your writing, and thanks in advance if you do end up taking this request <3

Not Just Another Birthday

A/N: Hello! I’m sorry to hear that. I hope your family member gets out of the hospital soon, and that you’ll be able to celebrate later. Until then, I still hope you have a wonderful birthday!

synopsis: On your birthday, Atsumu planned a day full of surprises, determined to make you feel loved and happy, ensuring every moment was unforgettable.

warnings/content: time skip Miya Atsumu x fem!reader, fluff, 3.076 words

The soft golden light of the morning sun slipped through the curtains, painting delicate patterns on the sheets. The air in the bedroom was still cool, the kind that made it tempting to stay curled under the covers for just a little longer. You stirred gently, stretching beneath the warmth of the comforter, at least until a sudden smell wafted in from the hallway.

Burned. Something was definitely burned.

Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you sat up slightly, brows knitting. It wasn't too bad, but it was...toasty. Before you could swing your legs off the bed to investigate, the door creaked open.

There he was.

Atsumu, smiling so wide it practically reached the tips of his bed-mussed hair, stepped into the room like a ray of sunshine that somehow managed to be louder than the real one streaming through the window. In his hands was a tray, slightly wobbly from his excitement, with two stacked pancakes drizzled with chocolate sauce, a tall glass of freshly pressed orange juice, and a single, perfectly red rose laid delicately beside the plate.

He immediately launched into a too-cheerful, off-key version of Happy Birthday, dragging out the last few notes with dramatic flair and a grin that threatened to split his face in half.

"Happy birthdaaay to yooouuuuu—!" he finished with a small bow and set the tray down on your lap before leaning over and pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Mornin', birthday royalty."

You laughed, eyes still bleary with sleep but heart undeniably full. "You're ridiculous," you murmured, smiling as he climbed into the bed beside you, careful not to tip the tray.

"Yeah, but I'm your ridiculous."

He cuddled close, chin on your shoulder as you both eyed the pancakes together. "They look amazing," you said, picking up a fork. "Smell's a little… adventurous, though."

At that, Atsumu winced. "Okay, okay, I may have nearly set off the smoke detector. Twice."

You raised an eyebrow at him.

"I wanted 'em to be perfect! But apparently, pancakes are rude and don't like bein' rushed," he muttered, half-pouting. "So I called Osamu."

Your laugh bubbled out. "You what?"

"I panicked!" he whined. "He showed up half-awake, mutterin' somethin' about betrayal and cookin' before noon, but he saved the whole operation. Swapped my batter with his 'good one'—whatever that means—and flipped these like a damn wizard. Then he left before you woke up. Told me not to screw up the rest of the day or he'd revoke my big brother privileges."

You leaned your head against Atsumu's, still chuckling. "You really did all that… just for me?"

His expression softened, the usual smug sparkle in his eyes giving way to something gentler. "Course I did. You always go all out for me, even when I gotta share the spotlight with that punk I was born with."

You nudged him. "You love that punk."

"Yeah, yeah. But ya still made me feel special. Like my birthday mattered just for me. I ain't never had that before." He glanced at you, voice quieter now. "So yeah. I wanted you to feel the same today. Like the happiest person on Earth. 'Cause you're the best thing that ever happened to mine."

Your breath caught, a warm flutter blooming in your chest. You reached for his hand, lacing your fingers through his as you took a bite of the pancakes—sweet, fluffy, and somehow even better because of the chaos it took to get them on the plate.

"They're perfect," you said softly. 

He beamed. "Good."

Today was already perfect—and it was only just beginning.

Atsumu plucked the now-empty tray from your lap and set it aside on the nightstand with exaggerated care. "Alright, alright," he said, bouncing a little on the edge of the bed like a kid who couldn't wait any longer. "Time for phase two.“

You blinked at him, amused. "Phase two?"

He grinned, eyes twinkling. "C'mon. Up. No peekin'."

You raised a skeptical eyebrow but let him pull the covers away. He quickly moved behind you, covering your eyes with his hands as he guided you—half-shuffling, half-laughing—down the short hallway.

"'Tsumu, if you make me walk into a wall, I swear—"

"Ya won't, I'm an expert," he chuckled, nudging the door to the living room open with his foot. "Okay. Ready?"

His hands slipped away, and you blinked at the sudden soft light spilling from the windows.

The living room had been completely transformed.

Streamers in your favorite colors hung from the ceiling in gentle swirls, curling down over the tops of the windows and bookcase. Balloons were scattered artfully around the space—some resting in corners, others hovering gently near the ceiling, including a shiny helium balloon shaped in the numbers of your age. A cheerful "HAPPY BIRTHDAY" banner stretched across the far wall in gold letters, and in the center of the room sat a tall bouquet of velvety red and pink roses in a glass vase, catching the morning light.

Your hand flew to your mouth.

"Oh my god…"

Atsumu, looking entirely too proud of himself, leaned in and whispered, "Told ya I had a plan."

Your eyes darted to the coffee table where two neatly wrapped gifts sat. You gave him a questioning look, but he just nodded toward them, clearly buzzing with anticipation.

You sat down on the couch, picking up the first box. Inside were two sleek, black-and-white printed event cards—tickets. You froze.

Your breath hitched. "No way…"

Atsumu plopped down beside you, watching your expression with a smug little smirk. "Yup. Front row, mid-court. Suna vs. Aran. Tonight."

"But they've been sold out for weeks. You told me you had 'other plans.' I stopped even—"

"I lied." He was beaming now. "For a good reason! You've been sayin' for months how you wanted to go, and you're always supportin' them—hell, they texted me askin' if I'd bring you. Couldn't let your birthday pass without makin' it happen."

You stared at the cards, speechless, then at him. "You're actually unbelievable."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

You leaned over and kissed him, slow and grateful, before reaching for the second gift.

It was smaller, in a velvet box. You popped it open gently—and your heart clenched.

Inside was a delicate silver bracelet, simple and elegant, with a tiny disc charm engraved with coordinates. 

"Go on, look them up!" he beamed, holding out his phone, the maps app already open.

You typed the coordinates in and…

They were the exact location of the spot where you first met Atsumu—outside a small corner café, on a rainy afternoon, with a spilled drink and a shared umbrella that somehow changed everything.

You looked up at him, lips parting in awe.

"Tsumu, I don't know what to say… it's so beautiful. And the coordinates… thank you."

"'Course," he said softly, suddenly shy under your gaze. "That's where everything started. 'S where I met the person that made birthdays mean somethin' to me. I never liked 'em before you. Felt like I was always splittin' it, always fightin' for attention. But you always made sure I felt like I mattered, even with 'Samu right there."

You reached out, threading your fingers through his.

He met your eyes. "So now it's your turn. Today's just for you. All of it. And I'm gonna make sure you feel like the only person in the whole world."

You smiled, tears threatening the corners of your eyes.

You didn't need a big party, or confetti cannons, or five-tiered cakes. You just needed this—this moment, this man, this kind of love.

After the emotional surprise with the bracelet and the volleyball tickets, Atsumu gently tugged you toward the bedroom again with a grin that told you he wasn't quite done making your birthday unforgettable.

"Okay, phase three," he said, opening the closet and tossing you one of your favorite outfits. "Get dressed. Bathing suit underneath. You'll see."

You raised an eyebrow. "Bathing suit?"

"No hints," he smirked. "But trust me—you've wanted this for ages."

A short drive and a lot of playful banter later, you were standing in front of a sleek, modern spa nestled on the edge of the city. The kind of place with smooth stone walls, bamboo water features, and soft instrumental music already playing faintly from inside. You blinked, surprised.

"Atsumu…"

"I know you always said you wanted a proper spa day," he said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "I was gonna take you to that art exhibit or the zoo, but with the game tonight, I figured… you should relax. Not be walkin' around all day and then yawnin' through Suna's serves."

You laughed, touched beyond words. "This is perfect."

Inside, everything smelled like eucalyptus and lavender. You slipped into your swimsuits and wandered into the large, serene indoor pool. It was mostly quiet, the gentle ripple of water echoing softly through the space. Warm light filtered in through skylights, and the main pool connected seamlessly to a whirlpool on one end and a sauna and relaxation area tucked in the back.

Atsumu didn't even try to hide how pleased he was watching you light up.

You waded into the whirlpool together, the bubbles fizzing around your shoulders as he pulled you into his lap. His arms looped around your waist, and you leaned back against his chest, closing your eyes.

"Best birthday ever," you whispered, and he pressed a kiss to your damp temple.

The sauna came next, the air dry and warm as the two of you sat side by side on the wooden bench, hands still entwined. Atsumu kept glancing at you out of the corner of his eye like he couldn't believe you were real, like he still couldn't get used to the way your fingers curled so naturally into his.

After that, he led you back out into the main lounge, where a smiling staff member greeted you both. "We're ready for your massage," she said sweetly.

You blinked, turning to Atsumu in surprise. "You booked a massage too?"

He shrugged, trying to act cool. "Figured I'd top it all off. Told 'em to make it all about you—none of that shared nonsense. You deserve your own time."

The massage was everything you'd hoped for—relaxing, soothing, your tension melting away beneath practiced hands and soft music. When you stepped back into the lounge afterward, face flushed and muscles loose with calm, Atsumu was there waiting with two iced teas and that same ridiculously fond smile on his face.

"Ready for the next step?" he asked, handing you the drink.

You giggled happily, nodding your head. "Of course!"

He grinned, brushing a bit of stray hair from your forehead. "Let's go then. We've got a game to catch, birthday girl. Front row."

And with that, he took your hand again, like he always did—like he always would—and led you off to the next part of the best day of your life.

The arena buzzed with excitement as you stepped into the stands, the hum of the crowd already sending a thrill through your chest. The lights above cast a warm glow on the polished court below, where the players were finishing up their warm-ups. You spotted Suna stretching near his teammates, casually cool as ever, and not far from him, Aran giving a firm handshake to a coach, all professionalism and focus.

Your front-row seats were perfect—close enough to hear the players' shouts and see the fire in their eyes. Atsumu, of course, had chosen seats right by the net. Premium viewing, prime drama zone.

As you both sat down, he slung his arm around your shoulders, smirking like he'd planned this moment in his head a hundred times. "Told ya these seats would be worth it."

You laughed, squeezing his hand. "You were right. Again."

The game kicked off with an explosive serve from Aran's team, the crowd roaring as the ball sped across the court. You leaned forward, cheering when Suna coolly received it like it was nothing.

"Atta boy, Suna!" you called, clapping with a grin.

Atsumu whistled low. "Mmm. That set was way too tight to the net. Gonna get blocked if they keep pushin' that tempo."

You looked at him with a raised brow. "You analyzing the game already?"

He shrugged, completely unbothered. "What can I say? Setter instincts never turn off."

You chuckled and turned your attention back to the court. The play continued—fast, clean, and full of intensity. Suna managed a clean spike from the left wing that had Aran's team scrambling. The point was won with a kill, and you joined the crowd in applause.

"Bet Aran's regrettin' not double-blockin' that side," Atsumu murmured, more to himself than to you.

Another play went off—this time with Aran delivering a devastating serve that barely skimmed the net and dropped with a wicked spin just past the ten-foot line.

"Now that's a serve," Atsumu admitted, tipping his imaginary hat. "Man's still got it."

You laughed again. "You sound like a commentator."

He grinned. "Maybe I should be. 'Specially since these setters are makin' rookie mistakes out here."

You nudged him playfully. "They're doing just fine."

"They could be doin' better," he muttered. Then, leaning in with a teasing whisper: "If I was settin' for Suna tonight, he'd already have twelve kills. Easy."

You rolled your eyes affectionately. "You're impossible."

"But you love that about me."

And you did. You loved the way he couldn't help but get involved, even from the sidelines. The way he watched the game not just as a fan, but as someone who lived and breathed it. And you especially loved how, even with all the analysis and silent critiques, he kept sneaking glances at you—like he was more interested in your reactions than the match itself.

As the game heated up, you found yourself cheering for both teams equally—calling out encouragement to Aran after a clever tip over the block, and hollering Suna's name after a perfect back-row attack.

You weren't the only one enjoying the moment either. During a timeout, Suna caught your eye, gave a tiny wave and a smirk. Aran, later on, spotted you in the crowd after scoring a point and pointed briefly in your direction with a familiar nod.

You turned to Atsumu, who had caught both moments.

"Guess I'm not the only one who's glad you're here tonight," he said, smiling a little softer now. "They're your people too."

Your chest swelled with something warm and full. "Our people."

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your temple as the whistle blew again. "Damn right."

And together, hand in hand, you settled back into the energy of the arena, surrounded by cheers, old friends, and the love of the boy who made everything—even a regular volleyball match—feel like magic.

The game had ended in a nail-biting finish, both teams pushing themselves to the edge until Aran's final spike sealed the win by a narrow two points. The crowd erupted with cheers, but your eyes stayed locked on the court—on Suna clapping his teammates on the back despite the loss, and Aran offering a respectful nod across the net.

You and Atsumu lingered outside the stadium afterward, standing near a quiet side entrance reserved for players. The evening air was cool and crisp, the kind that made your cheeks sting slightly but felt refreshing after the heat of the arena.

Atsumu checked his phone briefly. "They said they're headin' out now."

Moments later, the door creaked open and Suna stepped out first, still in his warm-up jacket, his expression cool as ever—but the second he spotted you, his face softened just a touch.

"Birthday girl," he greeted with that signature deadpan tone, pulling you in for a quick, one-armed hug. "Happy birthday."

"Thanks, Suna," you grinned. "You played so well out there."

He shrugged. "Could've been better." Then, with a glance at Atsumu, he smirked. "But not bad for a team without him yelling in my ear every set."

Before Atsumu could retort, the door opened again and Aran emerged, towel slung around his neck, still radiating that quiet confidence. His smile broke wide when he saw you.

"There she is," Aran said warmly, giving you a hug that was all muscle and comfort. "Happy birthday, Y/N. You look great."

"Thanks, Aran! And congrats on the win," you beamed.

He gave a small laugh. "Barely scraped it. Suna almost wiped the floor with us in the third set."

"Only 'cause your setter took five years to get the ball to you," Suna added casually.

"You gonna coach him next time or just glare at him more?" Aran shot back.

Atsumu grinned, sliding his hand into yours. "Boys, boys, let's not pretend either of ya could function without me."

You snorted, and the others rolled their eyes, but there was fondness in all of it—years of friendship woven into teasing jabs and half-smiles.

"Anyway," Suna said, turning to you again, "enjoy the rest of your night. He's been planning this day for weeks. Wouldn't shut up about it."

Aran nodded. "Seriously. You've got a good one. Not that I need to tell you that."

"I know," you said softly, squeezing Atsumu's hand.

"Take care, birthday girl," Suna added, and with that, they waved you off, heading in opposite directions down the street.

Atsumu looked over at you as the two of you began walking home, the buzz of the stadium slowly fading behind you.

"They like you," he said, lips twitching into a smirk.

You nudged him gently with your shoulder. "They're my friends too now, remember?"

"Yeah. But I still like hearin' it." He glanced at you sideways. "You happy?"

You stopped walking for a second, tugging on his hand to make him turn fully to face you.

"I'm more than happy," you said honestly. "You made today feel like everything I didn't even know I needed. I don't think I've ever felt so loved."

His smirk faded into something softer, more sincere. "Good. That's all I wanted."

The two of you kept walking, the city lights reflecting off the quiet sidewalks, his fingers warm and steady in yours. No rush. No noise. Just the perfect end to the perfect day.

Masterlist

[jamdoughnutmagician]

Blood Orange. (Vampire!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader 18+)

Basically, I'm on my period and I'm mad horny so I wrote this over two evenings because I just want my vampire boyfriend to take care of me. I promise I'm working on my 13 going on 30 AU, I just had to get this out of my system first. Word Count:880 Warnings: Smut, Oral Sex (F Rec), Dirty Talk, Blood drinking. I don't think there's anything else here, but don't hesitate to send me a message if you want something tagged.

Eddie Munson Masterlist // Masterlist

Light peeks through the cracked open doorway, as Eddie makes his way over to you with a glass of water and two painkillers in his out-stretched hand.

“I see you've taken to my vampiric lifestyle of living in the darkness,” he chuckles softly. “How are you feeling?”

“Like death.” comes your grumbled reply from under-neath your bundles 

You unfurl yourself from the comfort of your duvet-cocoon to take the tablets off him, placing them in your mouth and chasing them with a sip of water.

Eddie takes the glass from your hands and sets it on the bedside table, before lying next to you on the bed, snuggling you closer into the safe embrace of his arms. 

“Y’know, if you want, I can help you out with those cramps.” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head. “Orgasms can be one hell of painkiller, or so I've heard.”

There's a beat of silence as you think about his offer. 

He can see the cogs turning around in your brain, his fangs making a pearly appearance as he smiles at you before speaking again. 

“All you gotta do is say the word, and I can make all of it go away” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the soft skin of your neck, just behind your ear.

“We can even lay towels down, if you're worried about it getting a little messy.” he offers as a way of tempting you to his way of thinking.

“Okay then.” You nod. 

“Yeah? You want me to make you feel better, sweetheart? Want me to make you feel good?” He says between kisses pressed to your skin.

“Please Eddie.”

He grins that wickedly wide smile, his fangs curling into his pink lips as he pulls away and begins to set a dark towel on the bed.

As you make yourself comfortable on the bed, Eddie's delicate fingers find their way to the waistband of your panties, and begin to slowly drag them down the length of your legs. You cringe when you hear the crinkle of your blood-stained pad, an apology ready for him.

But the apology never comes, it all but dies on your tongue as he kisses your worries away, as if he could read your mind.

“You've got nothing to be sorry for, my darling. You deserve this. Now just let me make you feel good.”

He situates himself between your thighs, pressing a gentle kiss into the soft thatch of hair between your legs.

Your hand reaches down to lay on his shoulder, forcing his big brown eyes to look at you. 

He once again flashes you that devilishly charming smile. 

“What, you thought I wasn't going to eat you out because you're on your period?” he laughs incredulously. “Darling, I'm a vampire. Getting to taste you when you're like this is an honour and a privilege that most vampires can only dream of.” 

He lies your worries to bed once more as he places a soft kiss to your clit before his tongue is delving between your folds. Sweeping over your centre, his body practically shuddering out a moan as the sweet metallic taste of your blood hits his tongue. A nectar-like sweetness, the likes of which Eddie had never experienced, a richly devine and intimate treat offered up for him to devour. The wet sounds as he drinks down your scarlet essence are the backing track for your combined moans.

“So pretty for me, my darling, tastes so fucking sweet for me.”

You giggle under his praises, your hands finding their way to tangle into his long, dark curls. Tugging the soft strands into your hands to ground yourself as he feasts upon you in the most intimately erotic way.

His tongue hotly drags through your folds, his pretty pink lips wrapping around your needy clit, grinning to himself when he feels it’s gentle pulse of your arousal under his tongue.  

“Eddie please…” you whimper, desperately trying to grind your hips against his face in a plea for friction. Anything to give you that release that you so badly craved.

He lays his hand flat on your stomach to stop you from squirming away from his touch. A cold, and commanding presence, reminding you just exactly who was in charge here. 

“Gonna be a good girl for me ain’t’cha, sweetheart. Gonna come nice ‘an hard for me, pretty thing.” his voice drops as his nose’s tip nudges against your clit. His relentless tongue explores your wet cunt fervently, licking up every drop of your blood-tinted arousal.

He smirks against you when he feels the tell-tale signs of your plush thighs tensing, and your fists tugging harder into his hair. He doesn’t stop though, no, he wants all of it. He wants to feel it, to taste it, to drown in every drop of you.

You come with a gasping moan as you shudder through your release, your chest rising and falling with heaving breaths. Coming with a wet gush, drenching your lover in the wetness of your orgasm.

Eddie pulls away from you with a lazy, satiated smirk, his mouth covered in a glistening sheen of your juices. Scarlet and cream on staining his pink lips.

“So, how’s about that for pain relief, darling?” 

@paybacksawitch @penguinsandpotterheads @munsonbee @aphrogeneias @mrsjellymunson @eddiesxangel @raccoonboywrites

[kyleoreillylover]

here is a sneak peak into a wip of a jey uso x oc x roman reigns fic of mine. set after crown jewel 2024! lemme know what u think.

tagged: @southerngirl41@venusesworld @jeysbae @reci1996@tbones450 @steakwithasideofmashngravy @selena-tyler-564@saintaquarius@whatdoeseverybodywant@raya-hunter01@hope4more

The knock on the door was sharp but casual, the kind meant to say, It’s just me, no big deal. Jey leaned against the doorframe, trying to settle the nervous energy buzzing in his chest. He glanced down the hall, checking for wandering eyes, before knocking again. “Yo, D,” he called, letting the last letter stretch with a singsong lilt.

The door creaked open, and there she was: Davina, standing in a tank top and sweats, one hand clutching her phone and the other already mid-roll of her eyes. “Jey, what do you want?”

Jey smirked, stepping inside before she could shut him out. “That’s how you greet me? Thought we were better than that.” He nodded toward the half-packed suitcase sprawled on the bed. “You leavin’ me already?”

Davina sighed, her fingers brushing a stray curl from her face. “House shows. You know the drill.”

Jey shook his head, hands in his pockets as he sauntered over to the suitcase. “Nah. You’re not takin’ that flight.”

Her brows shot up. “Excuse me?”

“Give me this.” Without waiting for her permission, he snatched the suitcase and held it like a shield, stepping back when she reached for it.

“Jey!” She stomped a foot, a little stomp that made him bite back a grin. “What is your problem? I have a match tomorrow—”

“Not anymore,” he cut her off, shrugging like it was no big deal. “Change of plans.”

Davina planted her hands on her hips, her lips pressing into a line he knew too well. “What plans?”

Jey’s heart thudded harder, but he kept his tone light. “Look, I got you. You don’t even gotta worry about paying for nothin’. Just grab your jacket, and let’s go.”

“Go where?” She crossed her arms, her voice sharp now. “Jey, you better start explaining before I—”

He sighed, the weight of what he had to say making his shoulders sag. “SmackDown,” he admitted.

Her silence hit him harder than her words ever could. Davina blinked at him, then laughed bitterly. “SmackDown?” she repeated, like he’d just suggested they fly to Mars. “Jey, no.”

“D, come on—”

“No,” she snapped, her tone as firm as he’d ever heard it. She took a step closer, trying to grab the suitcase again, but he shifted it behind his back. “Give me my stuff.”

“Not until you listen,” he said, his voice gentler now. “Look, I know you don’t wanna hear it. I know you’ve been tryna stay outta this Bloodline mess, but D—”

“Don’t,” she interrupted, her voice wavering now. “Don’t bring them up. You know I’m not—”

“You are,” Jey insisted, his tone soft but unrelenting. “You are blood, D. Just like Sami. And we need you.”

“I’m not blood,” she shot back, her voice sharp again. “And I don’t care what Roman, or Solo, or any of them need. I’m done with it. Done.”

Her words stung more than they should’ve, but Jey didn’t let it show. He set the suitcase down, stepping closer until they were inches apart. “This ain’t about Roman,” he said quietly. “This is about me. About Sami. About family.”

Davina’s gaze softened, but her jaw stayed tight. “Family doesn’t call you nothing but a… a slutty opportunist when you walk away.” Her voice cracked on the word, and Jey’s chest tightened.

“Hey, nah,” he said quickly, his hands gently gripping her shoulders. “Don’t even say that again. That’s not you. Roman was hurt. He was wrong, but he don’t get to define you.”

Davina’s eyes darted away, her lips trembling. “He meant it, Jey. He meant every word.”

Jey shook his head, his grip firm but warm. “You’re Davina. You’re the strongest, smartest, sweetest person I know. Don’t let what he said live rent-free up here.” He tapped her temple lightly, earning the smallest twitch of a smile.

“Jey…”

“Listen,” he said, his voice dipping softer now. “I know it’s a lot. I know you don’t wanna go back to him. Hell, I don’t either most days. But Solo’s out there actin’ like he’s the new Chief, and he’s hurtin’ everyone we care about. Roman, Jimmy, even Sami.”

She flinched at Sami’s name, and Jey seized the moment.

“You think Sami don’t feel the same way you do?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion. “You think he ain’t scared to face Roman again? But he’s comin’, D. He’s comin’ because he knows this ain’t just about Roman. It’s about us. All of us.”

Davina stared at him, her defenses crumbling bit by bit.

“Please,” Jey said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Come with me. Just to talk. I’ll be there the whole time. If Roman says somethin’ stupid, I’ll knock sense into him myself. Just… don’t leave me hangin’, D. I need you.”

The room was quiet for a long moment, the tension thick between them. Finally, Davina sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat.

“Fine,” she muttered. “But I’m doing this for you. Not Roman.”

Jey’s grin was instant, his relief pouring out in a shaky laugh. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

He grabbed her jacket from the back of a chair and held it out to her. “C’mon. Let’s go before you change your mind.”

As she slipped on the jacket, he caught her muttering something under her breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly, though her cheeks flushed.

Jey smirked, his heart lighter than it had been in weeks. “Yeah, okay. Whatever you say, D.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt like they had a shot at fixing things. Together.

He just hoped Roman didn't fuck things up.

But that was just wishful thinking.