#two little monkeys jumping on the bed

[left-handed-spaghetti]

I actually WROTE a fanfic? I haven’t done that since I was around eleven, but I did it! So…here it is (Anderperry fluff)

The autumn rain tapped lightly against the windowpane, out the window the world appeared blurred and softened, with the hues of autumn.

The radiator underneath the window hummed.

Soft, golden light spilled from the reading lamp that was attached to Neil’s bed.

it was one of those rare times, when being a student at Hellton didn’t feel quite so bad. 

 Neil was rehearsing lines from "A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” in his and Todd’s dorm room, Jumping on his bed like a kid on a sugar rush. every time he bounced off on the springy mattress, it would make a loud squeaking Sound.

Todd chuckled quietly, looking up from the notebook he was writing in.  He tried to suppress a smile, but that was sort of hard to do when your roommate was Neil Perry.

Neil read from his script, 

"Up," Neil jumped, 

“and down," he repeated, 

“Up," another jump, 

“and down,” 

He laughed, 

“I will lead them up and down. 

I am feared in feld and town, 

Goblin, lead them up and down. 

Here comes one," Neil pointed dramatically at Todd, beaming. 

Todd chuckled softly, shaking his head in amusement, “Are you sure you haven't had too much coffee, Neil?"

 Neil shook his head firmly, "Only a few cups, but it's alright! Come on, Todd, jump with me!" 

Todd looked up at neil like he had just suggested that he Perform a cartwheel on the edge of a cliff. "I, I don't know, Neil. Jumping on the bed seems a bit... childish, doesn't it?” He glanced around sheepishly. 

  Neil shook his head and jumped around in a circle, "No! It seems a bit…fun! It’ll help you write a lot better, trust me.” 

 Todd scoffed. “How does that make any sense? Neil… thats, that’s crazy, you’re crazy.” 

  Neil paused mid-bounce, looking serious for a moment. “Think about it Todd, When you jump, the blood rushes to your head, right? It's like a whole ton of inspiration rushing straight to your brain! It makes sense doesn’t it?” 

Todd chuckled and paused for a moment, then shook his head. "No, no, that’s not how it works.”

“Oh, come on, Todd,” Neil implored, his soft brown eyes pleading. That look made Todd completely fall apart. 

"Alright, okay, fine. But just one jump, alright?" Todd said with a sigh, setting aside his notebook and sitting up from his bed. He extended a hand, letting Neil pull him to his feet atop the mattress.

 The bed creaked beneath their weight, and Todd glanced nervously at Neil, who was practically vibrating with excitement. 

With a timid bounce, Todd’s feet left the mattress, barely an inch of air separating him from the bed.

“There, I jumped once!” he said, smirking as he made an attempt to climb down. But Neil’s hand shot out, grabbing Todd’s hand and stopping him.

“"No, no, no,” Neil chuckled, shaking his head. "That won't cut it. You've got to really go for it. Imagine you're trying to touch the ceiling!" Neil explained. He demonstrated with an enthusiastic leap, though his fingers fell short of the ceiling by a good foot.

Todd attempted to mimic Neil’s jump. His feet left the bed in a clumsy hop. Todd looked over at Neil checking to see in he had just seen that horrible excuse for a jump. He did.

Neil grinned, trying hard not to laugh. 

“Here,” Neil said, gripping Todd’s hand more firmly. He crouched slightly, then sprang up, pulling Todd along with him. The force of Neil’s jump lifted Todd higher, and a burst of laughter escaped them both.

They landed with a loud squeeak, as if the bed was yelling at them in protest, I’m waaaay to old for this kind of behavior, my springs are rusty, my mattress is sagging, and my frame creaks with every little movement, take a hint guys. 

“Did you see how high we went?" Neil gasped between laughs, his eyes alight with joy.

Todd nodded, “Again?" He asked eagerly. 

Neil laughed and was just about to jump again, this time even higher, when 

His foot collided with Todd’s, and with a yelp, they toppled over. 

 Todd landed beside Neil, his cheeks blushed with exhilaration. 

“Are you okay?” Neil said trying his best to sound concerned, despite the fact that he was still laughing.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Todd managed between chuckles, rubbing his side where he’d landed. “We’re gonna be in a lot of trouble if we break your bed.” 

Damn straight, The bed would say if it could talk. 

 Neil’s giggles returned, and then the boys were laughing uncontrollably. Neil sat up, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. both of them breathless and grinning.

“Okay,” Todd said, still chuckling, “maybe, maybe that was…sort of fun.”

“Sort of?” Neil teased, nudging him playfully. “Admit it, you loved it.”

Todd rolled his eyes but couldn’t help smiling, “Alright, alright. Yes. Happy now?”

 Neil beamed, “Very.”

 There was a moment of silence, and their eyes met. Todd felt like a ton of butterflies decided to have a dance party in his stomach. 

Neil’s expression softened, his eyes filled with a tenderness that made Todd want to cry, or smile, or just hug him and never let go. 

  Leaning in, Neil gently pushed Todd’s bangs back, and placed a quick kiss on his forehead. Todd blinked in surprise, and felt warmth rush to his cheeks. 

 As if just realizing what he had done, Neil’s eyes widened in shock. His heart pounded so hard, he could feel it in his head. "I, I…” Neil’s voice trembled, his words stumbling over each other in a rush. "Sorry, I, I didn't mean to..."

Todd reached out, gently placing his hand on Neil's cheek.

"Neil…” Todd whispered, but Neil was too caught up in his frantic apologies to hear. “Neil,” Todd repeated, louder this time, “It’s okay.”

Neil’s words faltered, his breath stopping as he stared at Todd in disbelief. Todd Leaned forward, pressing his lips softly against Neil's.

As they pulled apart, Neil felt like the room was spinning, his heart hammering in his chest. He looked at Todd, 

 Todd's was blushing, and his hair was all messy, he looked incredibly beautiful. 

Neil's vision began to dim at the edges, as if someone had gradually turned down the brightness on the world around him, He felt an intense wave of dizziness wash over him.

"T-Todd," Neil managed to say, his voice trembling slightly. "I... I think I'm gonna faint…" 

 Todd chuckled at first, thinking Neil was joking, but then he noticed the panicked look in his eyes. 

"Oh, Neil," Todd said softly. He reached out instinctively, placing a gentle hand on Neil's cheek. "Hey, just breathe, okay? You're okay." 

 Neil took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, he rested his own hand on the hand that was cupping his cheek.

Todd’s touch was grounding, anchoring him in the moment. He closed his eyes briefly, feeling the warmth of Todd's hand against his skin.

When he opened them again, Todd was still there, looking at him with a soft smile and furrowed brows. 

Neil clenched his fists, and his heart swelled with joy. 

"I'm... I'm okay," Neil managed to say, his voice still a bit shaky. “Probably just all the blood rushing to my head.” Neil laughed.

 Just then, there was a loud knock knock knock at the door, and Cameron peeked into the room, “It’s time for dinner you guys.” He announced. 

 Todd nodded, then noticed that he still had his hand on Neil’s cheek, he pulled away quickly, his eyes wide. 

“Oh, Okay!” Todd said a little too loud, and got up from the bed a little too quick. 

Cameron eyed them suspiciously,  "Uh... what's going on here, guys?"

“Nothing!” Neil exclaimed, jumping up from the bed. 

 Cameron lingered in the doorway, his gaze shifted from Neil to Todd and back again. After a moment of awkward silence, he asked, "Are you ... using drugs or something?” 

“What? No, no of course not.” Neil insisted, shaking his hands. 

“Well you better not be, That would get you expelled you know.”

"We know, Cameron. We're not doing anything like that," he assured, forcing a calmness into his voice that he didn't really feel.

 Cameron’s eyes narrowed. "Alriiiiight," he said slowly, clearly unconvinced. "But dinner is ready, so hurry up."

"Yeah, we're coming," Neil replied, sounding more natural this time.

 Cameron eyed them one last time, turned, and left. 

Neil and Todd didn’t even realize they had been holding their breaths, until they sighed. 

Todd reached out and squeezed Neil's hand, before letting go and heading for the door. Neil followed, his heart still racing but steadier now.

They walked out of the room together, side by side, and made their way to the dining hall.

End

(I have no idea if that was alright, it’s really late rn, and I can barely read so 😭 I just had that idea of Neil and Todd jumping on the bed and I really needed to write it.)

[zepskies]

IF I STAY - Part 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized!Reader

Summary: Your dream is to work with kids as an elementary school teacher. Dean is well on his way to becoming a firefighter, keeping things light and “strings unattached” as he goes. After a one-night stand you never saw coming, you and Dean are forced to deal with the consequences…and figure out if the connection between you is worth fighting for.

AN: Deep breaths Are you ready for a rollercoaster of emotions? 😘❤️

Song Inspo: “I Can’t Help Falling in Love” and “It’s Now or Never” by Elvis

Word Count: 13.1K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, pregnancy feels, hurt/comfort, fluff, time jumps and flashbacks, sexual tension, mutual pining, spice~, and an ending…

❤️‍🔥 If I Stay Masterlist

Part 2: It’s Now or Never

At the doctor’s office, Dean goes in with you for the first trimester ultrasound. There you learn that you’re going to have a boy. Tears well up in your eyes and slip down your cheeks.

Dean wears a look of amazement as he sits on the edge of your bed. He takes up your hand and squeezes gently. He tries to be a strong support, even though he also tries to hide the fear that begins to churn in his gut.

For one of the first times in his life since Sam was born, he feels the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. In a good way. In a fucking scary way.

He looks at you and sees the wonder written across your face while you watch the tiny shape of your baby on the screen. His heartbeat thwaps fast and loud in the speakers.

Dean realizes something else then; the decision you're making is changing the course of your whole damn life…and it’s his fault.

With his weekly hookup rate, in the very back shelves of his mind he knew something like this could happen, even though he thought he'd been careful. (Apparently, condoms are fragile little shits.) But here, in this white wall-to-wall room that smells like hospital antiseptic, that thwap thwap thwap of a heartbeat reverberating in his ears, the reality of this is crashing hard on his shoulders and rattling down to the base of his spine.

Despite his earlier happiness, those thoughts stay with him when you two eventually get back into his car. You have the pictures of the sonogram in your hands. You smile down at them before you put them back in your purse for safekeeping.

However, you notice Dean’s sudden melancholy as he stares out at the road. He’s started the car, but he hasn’t moved to pull out of the parking lot yet.

“Hey, you okay?” you say, resting a gentle hand on his arm.

Dean shakes his head. “Look…I’m sorry for tossing a giant friggin’ monkey wrench into your life. I know this hasn’t been easy for you.”

If possible, your heart softens even more. You slide your hand down to grasp his.

“Dean, this baby wasn’t planned, but he’s not a mistake,” you say. “I don’t regret anything.”

Dean stares back at you, incredulously. He can’t believe you could really say that to him. He doesn’t know what to say. He only knows what’s in his mind, and what he feels compelled to do in that moment.

He leans over and kisses you. It’s a firm meeting of his lips to yours and achingly familiar. But ultimately, it’s chaste. He pulls away and settles back in his seat.

When you blink your eyes back open, your expression is slack in shock.

“I’m sorry,” he says, seeming sheepish, and guilty. “I meant to say thank you. Just didn’t know any other way to say it.”

After a moment, you smile at him. It’s warm and almost shy.

Dean clears his throat, trying to ignore the way his face is heating up. He doesn’t say anything more. He just takes the wheel and shifts gears, pulling the car out of the parking lot. 

You don’t know what possesses you to bake cookies. Dozens and dozens of them, all the chocolate chip cookie recipes you can find. You’re in search of the perfect one. This will be the recipe your son will grow up on, and every time he eats them, he’ll remember how much you loved him.

And then, he’ll be ruined for any other chocolate chip cookies that try to grab his taste buds. He’ll say, Blech. Chips Ahoy? These aren’t as good as Mom makes!

…Or something like that.

Yes, these cookies have to be perfect. You’ll even write the ingredients down on a notecard and hide it away, and it’ll become your family secret recipe.

Once you feel like your cookie game is strong enough, you decide to test these babies out. You bring two dozen painstakingly baked confections to Firehouse 83, where Dean works. The man is a bottomless pit, to be sure, but you also want other people’s unbiased opinions. For science.

You park your car on the side of the road, making sure you’re not blocking the driveway where two huge fire trucks are parked. You head inside the firehouse with your big container under your arm and your purse on the other. Now at seven months into your pregnancy, you’ve gotten to the embarrassing “waddle” stage.

You’re still determined to be active though! You plan to keep working until you have the baby. Your parents live a few hours away, but you’re grateful that they want to help out as much as possible.

Even though they weren’t happy to hear about how you got pregnant, by now they've met Dean and begrudgingly admitted to liking him. He's really stepped up to the responsibility of a future father, insisting on baby-proofing your apartment, helping you shop for the essentials, and going with you to as many doctor’s appointments as he can. He’s even agreed to giving you child support payments, even though you hadn’t wanted to ask for it.

You look for him now as you enter the firehouse, trying to push the heavy glass door open with one hand.

“Here, I got you,” says a familiar baritone voice.

You’re pleasantly surprised at the man who helps you inside.

“Benny! It’s good to see you.”

“Yeah, been…a while,” he chuckles, glancing down at the swell of your belly, but he squeezes your shoulder and leans in to hug you gently.

“Dean filled you in?” you ask. You hope so. Having to explain the story to one of his own friends would be embarrassing, especially since this is the man you walked in Sam’s wedding with. It reminds you of that day, and the way you told Dean that news in a glorified closet, with shaking hands and the wrong kind of butterflies.

Thankfully, Benny nods. “That he did…but come on, I’ll show you around. And I see you’ve brought somethin’ special for us?”

He gestures at the container you're holding and offers to take it off your hands. You give it to him, grateful for the help.

“Yeah, and I want you guys to give me your honest opinion.”

Benny tosses you a wink and a smile. “That I can do.”

Your cheeks begin to warm in a blush, but the way he helps you to a comfy couch in the common room earns your smile. There are still good men left in this world, and you’re glad to know that Dean works so well with one.

“You want some coffee, or water? Think we might have some lemonade,” Benny says.

“Water would be great, thank you,” you reply, as you rub your belly. The little man has decided to kick at your liver today. “I stopped drinking coffee for the baby. ”

It's your biggest challenge, to be honest. Try wrangling a group of fifteen to twenty six-year-olds while running on green tea, the fumes of sleep deprivation, reduced bladder control, and as much vim as you can muster.

“Ah, right,” Benny nods. “My sister has two kids. She cut out coffee, pain meds, some dairy stuff. But she claimed cheesecake was all right, ‘cause it’s got cake in the name.”

You giggle. “I see no flaw in her logic.”

Down the hall of the firehouse, Dean is just coming back in from going through a set of drills. He’s still the Candidate—the freshest blood in the house—so they’ve been putting him through his paces for the past several months. He’s eager to learn and to prove himself.

His ears perk up in confusion though. Did he just hear your voice?

Why does it smell like a bakery in here?

When he rounds the corner, he sees you in the common room, smiling and giggling like a teenager at something Benny said to you while he eats a soft baked cookie right out of a Tupperware container. You must’ve brought it for the firehouse.

This cozy little scene kind of annoys Dean somehow, though he doesn’t know why. He does know that it shouldn’t.

“Hey, look who’s here,” Dean says, forcing himself to smile. It becomes easier when you look his way, your eyes brightening at his arrival.

“There you are! Come ‘ere and try these,” you say, pointing at the box Benny holds. “Tell me if our son’s going to have the best PTA mom ever.”

Dean can’t help but grin after trying a big bite of one of your cookies.

“Oh, mah Gah,” he says, holding a hand under his mouth so nothing comes crumbling out.

“Good?” you ask.

“Good friggin’ cookie,” he confirms, after he swallows. “You’re gonna have the other parents frothing at the mouth. Who’s gonna be able to compete with this?”

Benny nods in agreement. When Dean squeezes your shoulder, your sweet, happy smile makes him smile too.

She’s going to be a good mom, he thinks. He can only hope against hope that he can be the man his son needs.

Two months later, the time has finally come. Your water breaks when you’re in the middle of teaching your second graders how to spell exaggerate—and no, Joey, it’s not e-g-g-zagerate.

However, the embarrassment of him pointing out the fluid beginning to stain your slacks is swiftly cut off by your shock. Your first call is to the principal, to have her send someone to cover your class. Your next call is to Dean, telling him to meet you at the hospital.

“Why the hell did he have to bring her,” you mutter to yourself, wiping sweat from your brow. Here you are, gritting your teeth through contraction after contraction in this damn hospital bed, and Dean is outside the room talking to Lisa.

You know you have no real reason to be upset. She’s been trying her best to be your friend in recent months. Hell, she helped Eileen and your mom plan your baby shower. She even brought you flowers when she got to the hospital, but you notice how less than five minutes after she got here, she and Dean became embroiled in yet another argument. It seems to you that all they do is argue, break up for a week or two, and then get back together again.

The sex must be explosive, like the fireworks at goddamn Disney World.

But Dean eventually does come back into the room alone. His support grounds you over the next few hours. He lets you basically break his hand, all while he gives you encouragement (and stands by your shoulder, so he doesn’t see anything you’d rather him not see).

And then, your son is born. Every muscle, every cell in your body is exhausted, but the pain meds have kicked in, and you’re in that blissed out state between abject reality and being entirely entranced by the bundle in your arms. His perfect face is just there, sleeping for the moment after the nurses taught you how to breastfeed.

Dean returns to sit in the chair beside you. He gives you some water and a piece of a protein bar. You’re not that hungry, but he pointed out that you haven’t eaten since before your water broke.

“Sam and Eileen are on their way up,” he says.

You nod in reply. You’re too into your son right now to think of anything else.

Dean shakes his head in wonder as he reaches out with a tentative hand, brushing his fingers over the baby’s downy head. He was born with a little tuft of brown hair.

“Okay, down to business,” Dean says, shooting you a playful look. “I vote for Zeppelin.”

You groan. “Dean, no. Veto. I’m not naming my son after a rock band.”

“Aw, come on. It’s a badass name!”

“What about Aiden?” you suggest.

“Veto,” he snorts. You two agreed to getting five “vetos” each, but this discussion has been more like a battle of wills over the last several months.

“Okay, what about Daniel? That’s strong, classic,” you pose.

Dean considers it with a tilt of his head. “All right, that one’s a maybe.”

Again, he strokes the baby’s soft cheek. You look over at Dean with a small smile.

“You’re going to be a good dad, you know,” you tell him. It earns his gaze. Although he’s trying to stay strong, you read the hidden insecurity there, the worry and fear. You rest a hand on his arm. “You are, Dean. You’re a good man, and you’ve really stepped up these past few months. This obviously isn’t how either of us thought our lives would go, but if this had to happen with someone, I’m glad it’s you.”

Dean’s expression softens. He hesitates, but he lays a hand over yours and squeezes gently.

“Thanks,” he says.

Your eyes meet, and it’s a moment charged with something you can’t even name. It’s not the first time you’ve felt this feeling with him. It both fills your heart with warmth, and makes you ache.

Then the door opens. It’s Lisa, Sam, and Eileen. Dean’s hand slips away from yours as they all pour in to congratulate you and Dean, and of course, meet the baby. There’s a lot of soft cooing and playful shushing.

In that small chaos, your parents call to tell you that they’re finally almost here. It really sucked not having your mom with you, but your parents live far enough away that they were going to take a train and stay with you for at least a week. Their train unfortunately got delayed due to mechanical failure.

It's okay though. Getting through the past several hours has made you realize that you’re stronger and more capable than you think, and even though part of you is still scared to death, you don’t need a husband to be a good mom. You’re going to give this your all, no matter who’s beside you…

And that's no more apparent than when Dean soon has to step out again, leading Lisa out of the room. He saw how her “helpful” suggestion to have a get-together at their apartment to celebrate the baby’s birth was setting you on edge. Really, you just want to sleep for the next 24-hours and not have any more pictures of you taken.

It gets loud enough outside your hospital room that Sam and Eileen feel they have to intervene. Lisa is Eileen’s best friend, and she’s the best equipped to try and deescalate the argument from that end, while Sam deals with Dean. It’s messy, it’s irritating, and it means that even today, you can’t just have a little bit of peace.

You sigh and cradle your still nameless baby close to your chest. He’s all that matters. Already, your heart is so damn full just taking him in.

“What’s your name, my little love?” you whisper. “What am I going to write on your certificate, besides Winchester?”

“How about Benjamin,” comes a Louisiana drawl.

You perk up and smile in surprise. “Benny, hey.”

He greets you with a slightly hesitant kiss on the cheek. He’s brought the baby an adorable teddy bear, and you a beautiful bouquet of white and blue roses, along with a box of chocolates.

“It’s the assorted kind, but they’ve got plenty of the caramel ones you like,” he says, then gazes down at the baby. “Aw, he’s a little charmer. Already got more of you than Dean, that’s for sure.”

You laugh lightly at his teasing. “I don’t know about that.” You hope your son inherits Dean’s strong jaw, and his green eyes.

Benny scratches the back of his head. “Also…sorry if I’m crossing some kind of boundary here. Looks like it’s a bit of a circus outside.”

You shake your head and smile through burgeoning tears. You set the chocolates on the end table where he’s placed the flowers and the teddy bear.

“No, it’s very sweet. Thank you,” you say. You glance out the window of your room to the hallway, where the arguing between Dean, Lisa, Sam, and Eileen seems to finally be calming down. You’re so damn tired, you don’t give a crap about whatever they’re hashing out now.

You look down at your son, and despite your strong thoughts earlier, insecurity begins to creep back into your mind like inky claws.  

“How are you holding up?” Benny asks. His face is kind and concerned when he notes the change in you.

You meet him with a wobbly smile. “Honestly? I’m afraid. I know I have a lot of people who want to support me, and I’m grateful, but…I just have this terrible feeling that we’re going to end up alone, him and me.”

You look down at your son, and you have to wipe away a tear from your eye before it falls on his face.

A large, warm hand rests over yours. Your gaze raises slowly, and Benny smiles at you. He’s serious though.

“Don’t you worry about that,” he says. “You’re not gonna be alone.”

FIVE YEARS LATER... 

For all that changes, there are some things that stay the same.

Dean and Lisa are still the world’s most “off again, on again” couple you’ve ever met. Sam and Eileen are still going strong as the hardworking, driven career couple. Your son is growing more and more every day and just started kindergarten this year.

(You ultimately caved on Dean’s idea to name him Robert, as in Robert Plant, lead singer of Led Zeppelin.)

Oh, yeah, and the “you and Benny” thing? That’s been going well for two years now.

What can you say? The man is persistent, but respectfully so. He’s considerate, reliable, and always calls you when work at the firehouse has him running late.

You haven’t yet invited him to move in with you. That part you’re still hesitant on, mostly because of your son, but Benny helps you drop off Robbie at school and makes breakfast for you all whenever he stays over your apartment. Benny takes an interest in your son’s life and keeps up with all his energy, taking him to the park to run himself ragged before dinner, and helping you tuck him in at night.

Benny is a bit closed off though, the strong stoic type. He’s hard for you to get a read on, and sometimes you wonder if he’s just indulging you when you ramble on about your day or make silly jokes. Even now, sometimes you withhold the first thought that comes to your mind, hoping he doesn’t think you immature or…too much.

But Benny shows his caring in all those little things he does for you. They add up into the big things, and he makes you feel supported. He makes you feel safe.

He even helps you plan your son’s fifth birthday. Robbie wanted to go all out on a dinosaur theme; he’s been hooked on Jurassic Park ever since Benny “accidentally” let him watch it with him on one of your rare nights out with your friends.

So you set up a little party at the park by your apartment. You managed to reserve the biggest gazebo, where there are three picnic tables covered with dinosaur plates, and tablecloths, streamers in different shades of green. You even bought a big dinosaur cake—also in a radioactive green color that you hadn’t been sure about, but your son talked you into. Robbie thinks it’s awesome.

He’s running around on the playground with a few of his friends from school. Their parents (along with Sam, Eileen, and Lisa) are talking amongst themselves at one of the picnic tables while you try to figure out how to get the Bluetooth speaker to connect with your phone.

“Haha! Got it. If you're so smart, Alexa, why don't you connect on the first try?” You fist-pump the air triumphantly, just as Benny comes to your side. He wraps an arm around your waist and kisses your cheek, making you smile.

“How’s it going out there?” you ask, nodding at the kids. Plus Dean, who’s gamely been the one to keep them entertained with different games. Right now, it’s a thrilling game of Cowboys and Outlaws, where Robbie and his friends are the cowboys, and Dean is the outlaw. He’s been hiding under the slide, behind trees and other playground fixtures, while the kids have little squirt guns to pelt him with water every time they find him.

It's pretty damn cute, and you’ve been taking pictures. You smile at the sight of Dean leaping out at Robbie and the kids, catching them off guard.

“You’ll never take me alive, Sheriff!” Dean declares.

“Oh, it’s goin’,” Benny remarks with an amused shake of his head. “Still hard to believe that guy’s about to make it to Lieutenant.”

“Hahaaa, gotcha!!” Dean cackles. He’s grabbed up Robbie and yanked him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Robbie screeches with laughter while his dad runs around the playground, being chased by a bunch of five-year-olds with squirt guns.

Your smile threatens to make your cheeks hurt. You know your life is…unconventional, to say the least, but Dean is a good father to your son. He’s also been working hard at his job. He just took the Lieutenant’s test, and even though Benny already occupies that position at Firehouse 83, a spot at another firehouse might open up for Dean to transfer.

“Part of me doesn’t want to,” Dean admitted to you last week, while he was working on fixing your stubborn, leaky sink. “All the guys there, they’re like family, you know?” “I understand,” you nodded. “You have to do what feels best for you, whether that’s staying where you feel comfortable, or moving up in your career somewhere else. If it doesn’t feel right, don’t do it.” He took in your advice with a slow nod. “Yeah, thanks. Guess I have to time to think about it. Lisa had other ideas.” “Of course,” you said with a smile, but it soon dropped. “Why, what did she say?” “Do what I can to move up,” he sighed. “She’s got a point. That title comes with a pay bump, one I could really use right now.” “I get that. Totally valid,” you said. “But I just think it’s important for you to be happy with it too. Especially with what you do, helping people, saving people…I’d imagine being in the right mindset for all that is important, right? Who you work with can be just as important as the money stuff.” Dean considered you with a smile. “Yeah, exactly.”

As you think about it now, you have to admit that he’s grown up a lot.

Dean has to lean against a tree to catch his breath. Am I already getting too old for this crap?

Feels kind of young to have a stitch in his side after a few rounds with these kids, but even he has his limits. Lisa comes to bring him a bottle of ice-cold water, which he appreciates. He’s tempted to dump it over his head like he does after successfully neutralizing a fire. It gets literally hot as hell under that helmet and mask and all his gear underneath.

“Need an iron lung?” Lisa teases.

“Toss in a new pair of knees, thanks,” he wheezes. He downs half the water bottle in one go, but he smiles at seeing his son keep running around with his friends. He’s just got that manic kid energy that goes on for days. But Robbie’s also smart; like Dean, he likes taking things apart and putting them back together in new and ingenious ways.

Dean hopes his son likes the new model car set that’s waiting for him on the picnic table full of presents. In fact, he’s still surprised that you didn’t go with the race car theme he suggested for the party, but apparently, Robbie’s more into dinosaurs now. Dean wishes he knew that before he bought the model car set.

He looks over and catches sight of you and Benny wrapped up in each other. He has his arm around your waist while you fiddle with something, but the way you lean over and whisper near his ear elicits a smile on Benny’s face.

Dean’s good mood diminishes.

“Well, don’t they seem cozy,” he mutters.

Lisa arches a manicured brow. “Yeah, pretty sure he’s getting ready to propose.”

That earns Dean’s attention, his head swiveling back to her in surprise.

“Really?” he asks. “Who told you that?”

“His sister,” she replies. “Meg’s in my intermediate class, remember?”

Dean nods, sipping at his water, even though he’s a bit absent in the eyes. Lisa watches him shrewdly.

“Why do you seem upset about it?” she asks. “Benny’s your friend.”

“I know,” Dean says. He doesn’t need that reminder, or the guilty twinge. It’s not like he’s done anything wrong.

“And she seems happy,” Lisa points out. “Don’t you want the mother of your kid to be with a good man who treats her right?”

He nods, trying to hide his growing annoyance. “‘Course I do. I just…I don’t know. I still don’t see them together, I guess.”

“Well, they’ve been together for like, two years.”

Again, Dean nods his acknowledgement. It’s hard for him to believe that so much time has passed already. He honestly didn’t think you and Benny would be together this long. He’d always felt a little uncomfortable with one of his best friends dating you, but you’d seemed happy about it, so he didn’t discourage it. But he’d never been very supportive, either. At least, not about your relationship.

Lisa sighs and grabs his arm, pulling him aside before he can rejoin the party.

“Listen, we need to talk about something,” she says.

Dean restrains a tired groan. “Can this wait ‘til later?”

“I think we should do this now,” she says. A hallmark Lisa-ism. She’s opinionated and strong-willed, something Dean’s always respected about her. Sometimes though, the timing is damn irritating. He doesn’t want to get into another argument with his girlfriend in public, especially not at his son’s birthday party.

“Speaking of commitment,” she says with a sigh. “I think it’s fair to say that we’ve been on a five-year rollercoaster, you and I. You know why that is?”

“I’m sure you’re gonna tell me,” Dean says, crossing his arms.

“It’s because you’re spread too thin,” she says. “Between the firehouse, construction jobs on the side…not to mention other things.”

“What? What’re you talking about?”

Lisa’s lips purse, before she pointedly gestures over at you with her eyes. “Well, for example. You’re still going to her place after your next shift to fix her fridge, right?”

“Yeah, I mean, should be pretty simple. I’ve just gotta swing by the hardware store and grab this specialty tool I ordered—”

“Dean,” Lisa deadpans. “That’s exactly the kind of thing I’m talking about.”

She heaves a deep breath, running her fingers through her long brown hair.

“I get that navigating this situation hasn’t been easy for you,” she says. “It hasn’t exactly been easy for me either, but look.”

Lisa takes his hands in hers, uncrossing his arms. “I want to get married someday. I want kids too. And I want that kind of life with you…I’m just not sure you want it with me.”

Dean expels a heavy sigh. “Lis—”

“Don’t answer me right now,” she says, but she levels him with a serious look. “You need to decide though, Dean. Five years is long enough. You should know by now if you want to be with me.”

After letting go of his hands, she softens the edges of her words with a gentle kiss on his cheek. Then she turns to join the group now gathered around the picnic table where the food is, all the kids cheering for pizza and cake.

After the party, Sam, Eileen, Lisa, and Benny pack up their cars and yours with the leftover food, party supplies, and presents. Dean helps you clean up the trash, all while keeping an eye on Robbie getting out the last of his sugar-high on the playground swing.

You shake your head tiredly, if with a fond smile. “That kid’s gonna be up all night hype on that radioactive cake.”

Dean chuckles. “You want me to take him tonight?”

“It’s okay. I think he’s going to want to play with his toys,” you reply.

“Well, he could just as easily do that at my place,” he reasons.

You consider it, but you shake your head. “Yeah, but we got him the bike. He’s probably gonna want to try it out for a few minutes before we get him cleaned up.”

“By ‘we,’ you mean you and Benny,” Dean says, his tone becoming surly. “And about that. Don’t you think a bike is something you should run by me? That’s typically a ‘dad’ kind of gift.”

You pause what you’re doing at the sound of his tone. Your brows knit together.

“Sorry, but I feel like a bike isn’t exclusively a dad thing,” you say.

“My dad got me my first bike,” Dean replies. “Spent a whole three days teaching me how to ride.”

You take a minute to think about it. You understand where Dean’s coming from, so you nod.

“Okay, I get it. You want to be there to help teach Robbie? I’m sure he’d love that.” 

Dean tosses a wadded-up ball of frosting-covered napkins and stops, letting his hands fall to his sides in frustration. He draws closer and helps you untie the balloons from the picnic table.

“Yeah, I do, but that’s not the point,” he says. “Why can’t I take him home tonight?”

You blink up at him in confusion. “Well, like I said. The bike—”

“That I should’ve gotten for him,” he snaps. “Which, let me guess, Benny picked out. Right?”

You frown at him in earnest now. “Dean, why are you getting so upset about it? It’s just a bike.”

“Well you know what, it’s not! And it’s not just the damn bike either.” He swipes a hand over his face in annoyance, a telltale sign you’ve come to read well on the man. “Look, I’m missing too much shit, all right? Like, like the dinosaur thing! And the fact that I only get him on the weekends.”

You turn toward him, trying to put a cap on your own annoyance. This isn’t the first time you two have had a conversation like this. 

“We’ve gone over this before, Dean. Your schedule at the firehouse is just too unpredictable,” you say. “Robbie needs as much stability as possible between us. But…okay, if you want to take him tonight, that’s fine. We can bring the bike over to your place and show it to him there.”

You’re trying to be as reasonable as possible, and Dean knows that. Still, anger prickles just under his skin, and he can’t help but push his luck.

“You still should’ve asked be before you got the bike in the first place,” he argues.

Your brows raise high. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“Look, it’s not like we bought him a Honda Civic. Honestly, Dean, why are you picking a fight with me right now?” you ask. “Did you and Lisa get into it again or something?”

Dean looks away and crosses his arms, giving you all the confirmation you need.

“Yeah, that’s right,” you nod. “I saw you two over there on the playground, looked pretty heated. But do me a favor. Don’t come at me with that energy, because I’m too damn tired of it!”

When you walk away from him, Dean can’t help but stare after you. He knows he fucked that up, just as he knows that you don’t deserve him snapping at you. He’s just too irritated to admit it.

For the entire week that follows, Dean finds himself distracted. He sticks to his word and helps Benny teach his son how to ride a bike in between their shifts at the firehouse, but Dean comes home each night feeling even more frustrated and drained than before. It’s too much, knowing Benny’s slowly but surely carving out a father-figure role in Robbie’s life.

These thoughts follow Dean to work, even while he climbs up the firetruck ladder in the rain. It’s parallel to a busted utility pole that still sparks with electricity, even in this torrential downpour. His task is to get up to the top and grab a large branch that’s tangled in the lines.

Rung after rung, he climbs. His safety mask protects his eyes from the rain, but he wishes they had some mini windshield wipers to keep his vision clear of the droplets pelting him in the face.

He also can’t help thinking of you. If Lisa’s right, then Benny’s about to become a more permanent fixture in Robbie’s life, and yours. 

Okay fine. It’s not like Dean expected you to be single forever, but did you really have to get with one of his best friends? Does it really have to be Benny, who seems so natural with Robbie, and more patient than Dean, and more of a support to you and Robbie than Dean can ever be?

And then there’s Lisa’s little ultimatum. He understands why she’s frustrated with him. Honestly, he’s surprised she’s stuck around this long. He knows she’s not going to wait too much longer for him to get his act together. For him to decide, as she put it.

It’s not that he’s not sure about her, it’s just that…

Just that what? he wonders.

He manages to grab the wily tree branch and maneuver it out of the power lines. 

He just doesn’t realize that his glove doesn’t have quite enough friction on the metal side panel of the ladder. Not only does his hand slip, but he’s forced to let go of the branch while he loses his balance. The branch falls to the sidewalk, far, far down below.

“Dean!” Benny shouts in alarm.

Luckily, the truck itself breaks Dean's fall.

Holding Robbie’s hand tightly in yours is the only thing keeping you steady as you lead him through the hospital. After the receptionist had checked you both in and gave you the room number, you hastened down the hall and up to the right floor. 2005.

Robbie breaks into tears when he finally gets to see his dad, laid up though he is in his hospital bed. Your throat tightens at the sight of Dean hooked up to all those monitors. He has his arm wrapped up and fitted into a sling. He has a thick piece of gauze taped to the side of his face, covering a wide, angry abrasion, but he seems to be resting easy on his back. The bed is at an incline, with most of the overhead lights turned off.

Robbie rushes to the bed before you can stop him. He hesitantly touches Dean’s non-injured right hand. “Daddy?”

“Robbie, wait,” you say, keeping your voice quiet. You quickly go over to the bedside and grab ahold of Robbie’s shoulders, but Dean takes a deep breath. His eyelids crack open.

“Hey, buddy,” he says, attempting a smile. His voice is rough and weak, but at least he’s awake.

Robbie’s lower lip wobbles as tears fill his eyes again.

“Come ‘ere,” Dean says, a little stronger. When he reaches out to his son, the kid hops up onto the bed and buries his face into his father’s chest. Dean holds him as securely as he can, soothing his hand over the boy’s hair and pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“It’s okay, little man. ‘M okay,” he promises. Robbie nods, but he still continues to cry.

You can’t help but do the same. Tears slip down your cheeks without your consent. Dean beckons you over too, gesturing with his chin and a slight smile. You’re more tentative in the way you sit down at the edge of his bed. You run your fingers through Robbie’s light brown hair to help reassure him. Then, you meet Dean’s gaze and lay a hand on his good shoulder. You don’t know whether you’re steadying him, or yourself.

“How do you feel?” you ask. “The hospital called me. Benny told me what happened.”

The thought reminds you to text your boyfriend. You hadn’t had a chance to tell him you made it here yet. He must be downstairs grabbing a bite to eat, because he’s the one who rode with Dean in the ambulance and has been with him for a while.

“The hospital called you?” Dean notes in slight confusion.

“Eileen told me that Sam is in court right now, so I must’ve been next on the list,” you say. He also must have taken Lisa off his emergency list the last time they broke up for almost a month. He probably forgot to update it again.

You reach out a hand to almost touch the bandage by his temple. Instead, you hesitantly hold the side of his face to see the area better. Dean closes his eyes for a moment. You can see he’s in pain. Your hand lingers on his cheek, but you know, deep down, that it shouldn’t.

Dean doesn’t stop you though. He lets out a deep breath, savoring how nice the gentle touch feels when the rest of his body feels battered to hell.

“Fell off the ladder. Was a stupid rookie move,” he explains, but when he sees that look on your face, he tries to inject a little more joking into a smile. “S’ not so bad.”

“You could’ve broken your head as well as your arm,” you say, more sharply than you mean to.

Robbie whimpers and clings tighter to Dean. You cover your mouth, as if you can trap the words back inside. You don’t want to upset your son more than he already is, so you fall silent. Another tear works its way down your cheek, but you brush it away. Dean shakes his head.

“Hey, I’m okay,” he reassures you too. He manages to smile as he pats Robbie’s back. “Right, buddy?”

The boy’s head perks up. His eyes are still shiny, but he smiles too. He’s not one to speak when he’s upset though, so he just curls up against Dean’s chest and hangs onto him. Dean rests his good arm snugly around him.

You smile and stroke Robbie’s back. Though your hand lowers, resting on Dean’s hand. You take in a deep breath to calm yourself down. Dean’s fingers curl around yours, prompting you to glance up into his eyes. The way he’s watching you is soft, grateful.

Until the door creaks open. Benny steps in with a subtle clearing of his throat. You jolt internally, and you slip your hand away from Dean’s. You offer your boyfriend a wan smile.

“Hey,” you say.

“Hey, baby.” He comes over and greets you with a kiss to the side of your head. He smiles at your son gently. “The gang’s all here.”

“Oh! Let me call Sam, and Lisa too. They still don’t know what’s going on,” you say. You get up from the bed to grab your phone out of your purse. Dean nods in agreement and thanks you, while Robbie plays with his dad's long fingers.

“How you holdin’ up, brother?” Benny asks, after you step out of the room. He settles into the chair near the foot of the bed.

“Ah, you know me. I’m like a cat. Always stick the landing,” Dean says, smiling lazily. The morphine is starting to kick in again.

Benny smirks. “Maybe you do got nine lives, the amount of close calls you like gettin’ yourself into.”

Dean’s good humor fades. He considers his son in his arms, and he shakes his head.

“Yeah, well, no more,” he says. He got a taste of what it would be like to leave his boy behind, and he’s not fucking doing it. He’s not leaving you to raise Robbie by yourself. The mere idea tears a new hole in his heart.

His eyes sting just enough that he has to blink a bit harder, swallowing past a thick well of emotion in his throat. He presses another kiss to the top of Robbie’s head. Then, Dean meets Benny’s gaze.

“Thank you,” he says, and he means it.

Benny nods.

“You got it, brother.”

When Lisa steps off the hospital elevator on the second floor, you happen to be coming out of the bathroom to fix your racoon eyes. You’ve been crying way too much. You attempt to greet Lisa with something reassuring, but she cuts you off. 

“What happened, and why didn’t the hospital call me directly?” she asks.

Her tone is cutting, and it takes you aback.

“Well, Sam and I were listed as his emergency contacts—”

“Why?” she snaps. “You’re not his wife or his girlfriend. I should’ve been listed.”

Jesus Christ. At this point, you can’t help it. You’re too tired and emotionally drained to lasso in your temper with this woman.

“Maybe if you and Dean stayed together longer than five minutes at a time, he’d put you back on the short list,” you sling back. “But the truth is, you’ve never just…been there for Dean. Not without demanding something from him.”

Lisa scoffs incredulously. “Oh, that’s fucking rich coming from you. You’re the reason he can’t commit to anything. You think your little world is the only one that matters, and you call Dean for any little thing! What, don’t you have a boyfriend to help fix your goddamn sink?” 

You open your mouth to retort, but you pause as her words seep into your mind. She might actually have a small point about that one. You realize then just how often you’ve been asking Dean for his help, not just with your apartment, but with your car, and other logistical things that usually have to with Robbie. Dean’s just such a good handyman, and you thought he genuinely liked being able to help…even though Benny did mention once or twice that he’d be just as happy to help you.

“Lisa, this is a lot more than a leaky sink. I just wanted to get here with Robbie and make sure Dean was okay,” you try to explain.

“Good. I’m glad his son was the first person Dean got to see when he woke up,” Lisa says. “But I should’ve been the second.”

She brushes past you before you can even think of what to say. You’re in a state of shock, feeling guilty, incensed, and on the verge of tears all at once.

A familiar voice calls your name, and you turn to Benny just as those tears begin to fall. He gathers you up into his arms and holds you there in the middle of the hallway.

“She shouldn’t talk to you like that, no matter how high tensions are today. I’ll talk to Dean,” Benny says. You shake your head and bury your face in his chest, clenching your fingers in his red flannel shirt. 

“No, it’s okay,” you reply, despite the sob that shudders through you. You’ve lost the will to fight.

Benny shakes his head and presses a kiss to your forehead. “It ain’t okay, baby.”

“Please, don’t bother Dean with this. Especially not right now,” you say. You take a moment to wipe your eyes and get ahold of yourself. “I’m gonna go get Robbie so Dean can rest.”

You can’t shake the feeling that Lisa is right. You do rely on Dean too much. You just don’t want to think about why that is.

Dean makes a full recovery after a few months. He never does hear about what happened in that hallway, but he knows that things need to change. 

He decides to dig out his mom’s engagement ring from a locked box of his parents’ keepsakes, though he’s still waiting on the right time for it. He and Lisa start looking at houses though, for real this time. She hires a realtor and everything. 

He’s making a firm decision, and he thinks it’s the right one. He wants to be there for his son, but he doesn’t want to keep “spreading himself too thin.” He has to figure out how to set some roots, and some boundaries with you while he’s at it. He’ll just have to come to terms with the idea that he won’t get to be there for everything. 

He has to be okay with the fact that you’ll probably marry Benny. You’ll keep making him cookies and cakes, giving him your smile and your time and your body. And Robbie will probably think of Benny as more of a father than his own Weekend Dad. 

Meanwhile, you’ve spent the past few months keeping yourself in check as well. You’ve stopped calling Dean for help whenever something breaks down in your old-ass apartment. You try to keep your conversations less about life and troubles and whatever funny thing your students did that day in class, and more focused on Robbie–strictly about his schedule and his needs.

It’s kind of painful, if you’re honest with yourself. Sam will always be one of your closest friends from college, but in the past five years, Dean has truly become your best friend. Because you’ve told him things. The things that come from sharing a child with someone, like Sunday dinners with your parents, flipping through old yearbooks and childhood pictures—and the details of day-to-day schedules and little stupid things that happen in moments between moments.

Dean also knows the deep cuts. Like being pregnant and scared and breaking down crying on the side of the road. Like sharing the deepest well of your insecurities with someone who knows your body intimately, even if just for one amazing night...a night you’ve never quite been able to put out of your mind.

However, you know that things can’t stay the same. From now on, he just needs to be your son’s father. Nothing more, nothing less. 

So today, on a crisp April 24th, you’re getting ready for a highly anticipated evening with your boyfriend. Robbie is sleeping over your parents’ house, and Benny has been planning something special for your third-year anniversary. 

You slip into your new dress, a deep emerald green, with a pair of black heels you’ve rarely worn since before you got pregnant. Come to think of it, you were wearing these the night of Sam and Eileen’s bachelor-bachelorette party. The night you…well, the night Robbie was conceived. 

You shake your head to rid yourself of those thoughts. You even consider changing. 

You’re being silly, you shake your head. They’re just shoes. 

And yet. Thinking of that time so long ago, it reminds you of a recent Sunday dinner at your parents’ house.

Two Months Ago...

Your parents live modestly, but comfortably in rural Kansas. Their ranch-style home boasts a creek in the backyard, where your dad is teaching your son how to catch minnows. Your mom is inside working on an apple pie, knowing it’s both Dean’s and Robbie’s favorite.

You and Dean have kept close to the house under the shade, sitting on a bench made more comfortable by a pair of old polyester cushions with red, faded flowers.

“How much longer do you have to wear that?” you ask Dean. He glances down at his cast-covered left arm.

“Doc says it’s about ready to come off,” he says.

You nod, allowing yourself a certain smile. “How bad are you itching to grab my mom’s garden shears and cut it off right here?”

“Woman, don’t tempt me,” he says, his lips twitching at a grin. “I’ve been eying those overgrown scissors for the past half hour.”

You laugh and take another sip of your glass. Yours holds sweet tea, while Dean’s has some of your dad’s favorite whiskey. You both raise your heads when Robbie yells across the backyard.

“I caught a minnow!”

“Good job, buddy,” Dean grins. “See if you can catch a marlin!”

“A marlin?” Robbie questions.

“Yeah, like that orange guy in Finding Nemo,” Dean calls back.

Your dad gives Dean the same wry look you do, though yours is tinged with more amusement.

“Dean, that’s a clown fish,” you say. “He’s not gonna find that in the creek.”

“Aw, shit,” he tries to quiet his laugh. “Ah well, should keep him occupied for another twenty minutes.”

You bite your lip to stifle your laughter as well. Though something else occurs to you the longer you watch your son play and explore in the creek. Your dad has the patience of a saint as he puts yet another bait worm on the hook for the kid.

“He’s starting to ask questions, you know,” you tell Dean, in a quieter voice. “‘Why aren’t you and Daddy married? Why can’t we all live together?’”

Dean's brows raise. His good humor dims when he looks over at you.

“What do you tell him?” he asks.

You take in a deep breath, considering your words now as carefully as you did with your son.

“That we care about each other a lot, as friends,” you say, meeting Dean’s eyes. “And we love Robbie very much. Nothing’s going to change that, even if you and I aren’t together like a normal mom and dad.”

Saying it like that makes your heart twinge, for more than one reason. The way Dean’s mouth twitches into a rueful smile just makes it worse, but you try your best to ignore it.

“I never thought about having to explain it to him,” he says, rubbing a hand over his mouth.

It’s that anxious tell of his again. You notice every time he does it.

“I have,” you admit. “I just didn’t know for sure what I was going to say until it was coming out of my mouth.”

Dean smirks a little. “Yeah, that sounds like you.”

You roll your eyes and sip your drink, crossing your arms as well. Dean considers you then, looking at you in a way that makes you raise a brow in question.

“What?” you ask.

“Nothing, it’s just…” He sits back against the bench and rubs his hands down his jean-clad thighs. “For the record, I did try to ask you out once.”

“What?” you scoff incredulously. “No, you’ve been with Lisa since the beginning.”

“Before Lisa,” Dean says.

He isn’t joking. He isn’t teasing. He’s serious as he stares back at you with those green eyes of his. Your brows furrow as you wrack your brain. Did he drunkenly leave you a voicemail on one of those “off again” episodes between him and Lisa? No. You know you’d remember something like that.

“It was a few weeks after the bachelor party,” Dean says. “I called you up, remember?”

Your eyes widen. Finally, that jogs your memory.

“So I just thought maybe you and I could do something again. Maybe you wanna come over my place this time.” And there it is. You deflate at his words, shoulders sagging. The "convenient booty call" proposition.

You have to laugh, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Dean, you did not ask me out,” you say. “You wanted to hook up. There’s a distinct difference.”

Dean frowns at you. “No, I was. I invited you over—”

“For essentially some Netflix and chill,” you retort.

“Hey, I offered to make you dinner,” he argues. “I didn’t say anything about hooking up.”

You pause at that. His earnest denial makes you actually think back to what you remember about that conversation on the phone.

“So I just thought maybe you and I could do something again. Maybe you wanna come over my place this time.” And there it is. You deflate at his words, shoulders sagging. The "convenient booty call" proposition. “I could make us some burgers, toss in a couple of beers and a movie night,” he adds.

You cover your lips with your fingers as you begin to realize…

“That was you asking me out?” you ask incredulously.

Dean’s brows furrow and he throws his hands up. “What? Who doesn’t like a little movie night?”

“Dean,” you huff another laugh. “You could’ve made it sound more like a date.”

“Well, ‘scuse me. Sorry I couldn’t afford the Ritz at the time,” he grumbles.

You sigh. “That’s not what I meant.”

The more you think about it, the more you just shake your head at yourself. Why did you have to overthink it, like you do everything?

“Wow,” you say, softer and more contrite. “I honestly never thought…”

“Yeah,” he says. He shifts his gaze out ahead.

You glance over at him, now more unsure of yourself. He wouldn’t have any regrets, you think. He has Lisa. As much as they go at it, they always inevitably get back together. And now you know they hired a realtor. They’re about to start making solid steps forward.

But Dean surprises you with another question.

“Do you think if…”

He doesn’t finish it, but you think you know what he’s asking. You hesitate, your fingers flexing around your glass that beads with condensation. You set the glass down beside you. 

Just as you open your mouth to reply—

“All right, pie is cooling and dinner is served!” your mom calls out. Her head pokes out of the sliding glass door to the backyard. You offer a smile, trying to hide how you jolted in your seat.

“Okay, thanks, Mom,” you nod.

You turn back to Dean, who also hesitates. His eyes meet yours, but all too soon, he locks the moment away.

Bracing his hands on his knees, he rocks to his feet and goes out to get Robbie and help your dad bring in the fishing gear.

You grab Dean’s whiskey along with your tea on your way back inside the house. You consider the amber liquid disturbed in his glass, and you down the rest yourself. The burn down your throat is a good distraction. If he asks about it, you’ll say you got the glasses confused.

You know you’ll have to leave that conversation unfinished at the foot of the bench.

Now...

Benny comes by your apartment and helps you into the passenger side of his pickup truck, like the gentleman he is. He takes you to a nice restaurant in downtown, much nicer than the usual sports bar or kid-friendly restaurant. You're very much looking forward to eating at a restaurant that doesn't feature chicken fingers or "kiddie" corn dogs.

“This is gonna be really expensive,” you whisper to him, after he hands his keys over to the valet. 

Benny squeezes your hand in his, leaning over to kiss your temple. 

“Don’t you worry about that. We both deserve a night out.” His blue eyes gleam with amusement. However, his gaze gentles, becoming more sincere. “You work hard, carin’ for everybody around you. How about you let me take care of you for once.”

Your eyes begin to water, your throat constricting with emotion. You rub his arm gratefully.

“Thank you,” you say. “You don’t know how much I appreciate that.” 

It’s always easy with Benny. Nice and simple and easy. Nice, supportive, and considerate.

Nice and safe.

That thought follows you while you and Benny walk into to the restaurant. He’s reserved great seats in the back corner, overlooking a beautiful courtyard. It’s decorated with hydrangeas and light wood dining tables, all framed with a rod iron archway as the sun begins to set just so. After holding your chair out for you before he sits himself, Benny orders a bottle of champagne to kick things off.

He turns to you with a somewhat nervous look in his eyes, like he's steeling himself. It’s uncharacteristic of Benny, who’s always so calm and charming and sure of himself. It makes a zing of anticipation run down your spine, and…a dash of fear. You don’t know why, and you don’t know how to beat the feeling down as you fidget in your seat.

He subtly clears his throat, then takes your hand. “Sweetheart, I know I’m not all that good at the words you’re supposed to say. But I can say that the past three years with you and Robbie, it’s come to mean the world to me.”

Your smile softens. He brushes his thumb over the back of your hand, encouraged by your reaction.

“So I think it’s time I made it clear where I stand, and how much I want to be the man in your life,” he says.

Your eyes begin to widen in shock, but not for the reason he thinks.

“Dean,” you gasp.

Benny’s expression slackens. “What?”

You point over his shoulder, and Benny turns to follow your line of vision. Dean and Lisa have just walked into the restaurant. They notice you pointing their way, and they both pause in surprise as well. Lisa is beautiful as usual in a slinky black dress, completely backless (something you feel you could never pull off, unless you had an invisible bra to keep the girls perked up).

Dean is…well, you’ve very rarely seen him in a suit, but charcoal gray works for him. The open collar and white buttoned-down works for him, as do the three top buttons he’s left undone, showing a tantalizing strip of tanned skin. He stares back at you like he forgot you live in the same time zone, let alone the same zip code.

“Uh, hey!” he casts out an awkward wave, before he makes his way over to you and Benny. Lisa is less than enthused.

“We shouldn’t interrupt their night,” you catch her whisper to him, but Dean doesn’t seem to hear her.

“What’s up, party people! Of all the gin joints in all the world, huh?” Dean says, a little too loudly when he thumps Benny on the back. Benny grunts, giving a bit of a forced chuckle.

“Dean,” he greets. “I think I told you about this particular gin joint. Good to see you can actually clean up once in a while.”

“Ah, you know what, this monkey suit ain’t too bad,” Dean says, pulling at his collar.

You smirk in amusement. “Yeah, I remember how much you complained about wearing a simple tie for Robbie’s Christmas pageant.”

He smirks down at you. “Hey, ties still might not be my thing, but nothing wrong with a sharp collar.”

He pops his for emphasis. You don’t know why it makes you laugh, but it does. Maybe it’s just his face and the silly, endearing expression he makes when he pouts his lips in a “blue steel.”

“So, is this just a night out, or you guys celebrating something special?” Dean asks, gesturing at the champagne bottle and your full glasses of bubbly.

Benny gives his friend a certain look. “Yeah, as a matter of fact. Today’s three years.”

He takes your hand and kisses your knuckles. You smile back at him, though you’re a bit self-conscious at the way both he and Dean, and even Lisa have their attention on you.

“We should let you guys get back to it then,” Lisa says.

Honestly, it’s a relief. You and Benny nod, wishing them a goodnight.

For some reason, you notice how Dean’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. But he goes with Lisa, laying a hand on the small of her back. You force yourself to tear your eyes away from them and refocus on Benny. You take up your champagne glass and raise it in offering.

“All right, where were we?” you ask, if with a nervous trill in your belly.

Benny smiles. He takes up his glass and clinks it with yours.

Lisa nearly sighs. She and Dean are back in line at the front of the restaurant, waiting to be seated. The second time she catches Dean glancing over at the table where you and Benny sit, she shakes her head and digs into her purse for the valet card. She’s done with this.

“I think maybe we should go to a different restaurant,” she says.

That finally earns Dean’s attention, mostly confused. “What, why?”

She just gives him a long look.

He realizes that whatever her reasons are, it’s easier to just give in than to fight her on it. He’s learning when to pick his battles. Or is he just giving up?

Also, if tonight’s “the night” he thinks it is for you and Benny, maybe he doesn’t want to stick around after all. Three years, huh?

“All right, fine. Let’s go,” he agrees.

Dean and Lisa wait for the valet to bring the Impala around. The minute he gets behind the wheel and turns the key into the ignition, she changes her mind.

“Look, let’s just go home,” she says. “I don’t really feel like eating out anymore.”

Dean’s brows raise. “What? Aw, come on. We’re already dressed and everything. You look great, Lis. Just tell me where you wanna eat.”

Lisa remains firm, with a small shake of her head. “Please, Dean, just take me home.”

After a moment of indecision, Dean sighs. He revs the ignition and does as she says.

It’s only a fifteen-minute drive back to their apartment, but in that stifling silence, it seems to drag on for a small eternity. He glances at her a couple of times. Lisa has her arms crossed as she stares out the window, watching the other restaurants and mom-and-pops shops and forest trees and old houses of Lebanon, Kansas go by.

Dean counts it a blessing when they’re finally home. He walks up the few short steps up to their ground-floor apartment and unlocks the door. He flicks on the lights inside, and she breezes past him to toss her purse onto the couch.

Dean takes off his blazer and begins to undo the buttons on his cuffs. He watches her all the while, knowing that a storm is brewing. She shucks off her heels and slowly paces the living room on bare feet, like her whirling thoughts are fueling every step.

“All right, I give. What’s going on?” Dean asks. “What’d I do this time?”

She pauses, with her back turned to him.

Shit, he thinks. He shouldn’t have said it like that.

He prepares for the inevitable blow up, but it never comes. Lisa just heaves a sigh. Slowly she turns, and Dean’s shocked and dismayed to see the tears welling up in her deep brown eyes. He makes quick strides toward her, but she raises a hand to keep him at bay.

“Dean, when you picture yourself happy, truly happy,” she says. “Is it with me? Can you imagine yourself marrying me? Buying the house, having kids, growing old together?”

If Dean was thrown for a loop before, he’s even more stunned by her question. “Lis…”

“Just be honest, for once,” she pleads. Her tears begin to brim over, but she blinks, somehow keeping them at bay.

It’s a bit too long before Dean realizes that he can’t give her an answer. At least, not the one he knows she wants to hear.

When he thinks of that picture in his mind, of course he sees his son. But the only other person Dean can imagine there beside him is…

“I…” He wills his mouth to work, but nothing else comes out.

The only face he can conjure is yours. Your eyes are warm and welcoming, your smile as bright and contagious as your laugh.

The only voice he can hear is yours, gentle and strong at the same time.

The only one he can see is you.

He knows the shampoo you use and the perfume you like to wear, how the sweet and floral scents mix together and linger in your hair and on your skin.

Even now he remembers the contours of your body, and how it could fit so well against his. He knows that you used to try and hide your shape under loose, baggy shirts and cargo pants that did nothing for you. He knows how much courage it took you to wear that red dress to his brother’s party, because you told him once, at one of those Sunday dinners at your parents’ house.

Come to think of it, there’s not a whole lot that Dean doesn’t know about you, except maybe what you see when you look at him.

“You love her,” Lisa finishes for him. “I think you always have.”

Dean’s throat tightens. Somehow he swallows anyway, and he shakes his head. 

“Lisa, I loved you.”

“Maybe you did, in your own way,” she says, laughing a little through her tears as she wipes them away. “But you already have a family, Dean. Go fight for it.” 

Dean doesn’t know what to say, but he knows what he can do.

He goes to her and kisses her cheek. 

“I’m so sorry,” he says. 

Lisa merely nods, wiping her face dry. She watches Dean Winchester walk out of her apartment, and out of her life for good this time. 

Dean calls your cell, but it goes to voicemail. He drives all the way back to the restaurant and doesn’t find you or Benny there. 

Dean realizes that what he’s doing, what he plans to do, is not fucking cool. He wouldn’t blame you or even Benny for being severely pissed when Dean shows up. He also knows that he can’t let another day pass where he keeps lying to you, and himself. 

He eventually finds you at home. What’s weird is that Benny’s truck isn’t in the driveway—just your car. He knocks on your door, and he waits.

He unconsciously holds his breath while he waits in that terrible existence of limbo. However, his heart thrums back to life when he hears your footsteps drawing closer to the door. Anticipation, excitement, dread, it all roils together inside him like a bad cocktail as the door swings open.

And he’s once again rendered a bit breathless at the sight of you in that dress. The color alone appeals to him, let alone the way it accentuates your every curve, from full breasts to the swell of your hips, the softer slope of your thighs, and bare toes painted. You’re fucking delectable, every curve, and a temptation without you even meaning to be. 

You’re just…you’re still so goddamn beautiful, like the night he first saw you. Even now, he can almost feel the give of your thighs under his hands, his fingers pressed to supple flesh. 

But then he’s drawn to your face, and your wide eyes full of surprise. Your mascara is a bit smudged though. Your eyes are red too, like you’ve been crying. His brows furrow in concern.

“Dean, what’re you doing here?” you ask.

“I need to talk to you, but uh…did something happen?” he asks. “You okay?”

You’re reluctant to tell him. Did Benny say something to upset you? Or was it something he did?

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you say.

Instinctively, Dean knows it’s a lie.

“This isn’t a good time though,” you say, after clearing your throat. “Can we do this tomorrow, maybe?”

Dean leans a hand on the doorframe.

“Please, it’s important,” he says. His eyes implore you harder than his words. Please.

That does it. A sigh passes through your lips, but you let him in. He knows Robbie is with your parents for the night, which actually makes this easier.

Once he steps inside the apartment, Dean does notice that your bedroom door is open. Half the drawers to your dresser are open too, and empty. Certain frames that used to be on your coffee table are no longer there, like the one of you, Benny, and Robbie on a camping trip. 

“You want some coffee, or soda?” you ask. 

Dean declines and grasps your arm before you can busy yourself into “hostess” mode. He leads you to the couch, where you both sit down together.

“What happened tonight?” he asks. “Where’s Benny?”

Your lower lip wobbles, the beginning of your telltale cry face. Dean knows his son gets it from you, and it always breaks his heart. He squeezes your arm gently, trying to ground you.

“Benny proposed to me tonight,” you confess, taking in a sharp breath. “He proposed, and I couldn’t give him an answer.” 

You shake your head as the tears sting hot in your eyes. 

“He got so upset, he just—he left!” You throw your hands up. “But honestly, I don’t blame him.”

Dean tries to comfort you as you try and fail to wipe at your face. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, cupping your cheek to brush the tears away himself. 

“Why couldn’t you answer him?” he asks. 

You look up at Dean, and you finally notice the shine of hope in his eyes. Dean touches your cheek more tenderly. 

“Does it mean I have a chance here?” he asks.

Despite what your eyes tell you, you still gape at him in shock. “What? But…what about Lisa?”

“It’s over. For good this time,” Dean shakes his head. “I realized what I wanted for my life, and where my heart is…”

And he chuckles weakly. “Truth is, you’ve had it the whole time, sweetheart.”

You begin to crumble all over again. You pull away from him and his touch, because you can’t believe it. You cover your face with your hands, sniffling as you try to make sense of his words, his touch, and the warm flutter threatening to brim happiness in your heart.

“God, Dean. You can't just..."

"I mean it," he insists.

You're still reluctant to take him seriously...no matter how much you want to. It's a conflicting realization that hurts, and makes you feel stupid for taking so long to figure it out, and makes you hate yourself for hoping his words are true.

"Come the morning, you’re going to change your mind,” you reason, without looking at him. “Like you’ve done with Lisa a thousand times.”

“No,” Dean says firmly. He shifts closer and prompts you to look at him, really look at him.

“Not about this, and you know it,” he says, catching and holding your gaze. “That’s why you couldn’t say yes to Benny. Because you know what we’ve got. It’s the real deal.”

You still look uncertain, even though you can’t bring yourself to pull away this time. Dean has always had this way of looking into the very depths of you, like he can actually see every thought as it passes through your mind.  

“I should’ve said yes,” you say. “I can rely on Benny. I know he would stay by my side, and…and I know he won’t hurt me.”

Not like I’ve just hurt him, you think. Guilt still pricks at your heart. The last thing you ever wanted to do was lead him on, and yet, that’s what you’d done, wasn’t it? You thought you had loved him. You’re sure that you did, but maybe it just wasn’t the kind of love that could reach down deep and grab you, set your blood on fire, and make you ache when the burn was gone.

That spark licks across your skin when Dean takes your hands.  

“What if I want to be that guy for you,” he says.

You allow yourself to look at him. Really look at him.

You know Dean. When he gets an idea in his head, it inhabits every bone and shred of muscle in his body. There’s no mistaking his resolve, or the steady grip of his hands over yours.

“If you let me, I’ll stay. I won’t leave you,” he says. In his eyes, there’s a firm promise. “I can be the guy you rely on. The man you can trust. The man who’s gonna love you, come whatever. Because now I know what it means. I know how it feels.”

You bite your lower lip against the smile that wants to surface.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

Dean smiles for you. “If you wanna know the truth, I’m pretty sure I’ve been loving you since the day I heard Robbie’s heartbeat for the first time.” 

Your tears flow harder at that. A shaky breath escapes you, though it does nothing to steady you. Dean strokes your cheek gently with his thumb. 

“Please, just give me this one chance,” he asks. Begs, really. 

He doesn’t have to though. You nod, just a little. 

“Okay,” you agree. “Let’s try.”

Dean's smile spreads slow, but warm across his face. It’s your favorite kind, the kind that crinkles his eyes. 

He leans in and claims your lips with his own. The passion of it is familiar, but you don't think it’s the same as five years ago. Now, there’s an underlying note of tenderness in his touch and each new way he tastes you deeper. He holds nothing back this time, and neither do you. 

Your fingers tangle in his shirt, and then in his hair as you moan into his mouth. “Dean.”

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he answers against your lips, though he doesn’t give you much room to keep talking.

You haven’t heard him call you sweetheart in a long time. You feel your heart knitting back together, stitch by stitch. Tears sting in your eyes anew, but you squeeze your eyes shut against them.

“I…”

You can’t even continue the breathless thought. You hold his face desperately between your hands, pressing your forehead to his for a moment as you both catch your breath. But this man is like the sweetest, most seductive vice. Now that you’ve gotten another hit, you can’t resist. You no longer want to.

His arms wrap around you more securely, and he leans in to lure you back into his kiss. His tongue breaches past your lips to curl along yours with tantalizing strokes. His hands slowly move down your back and along your waist.

“Mmm, missed the hell outta this,” he groans into your mouth. Your heart flutters again at the way he holds you, the way his big hands squeeze you and feel you.

You let him guide you down onto the sofa cushions. He slots himself between your bare thighs and runs his hand up familiar smooth skin, bunching the skirt of your dress higher as he goes. He aims to get himself reacquainted with every soft part of you that welcomes him back.

For once, the gates around your hearts swing free. 

Dean never imagined that his own son would hand him the ring he gives to his wife, but today, it just feels like symmetry. He grins and winks at Robbie.

“Thanks, buddy,” Dean says.

His son’s beaming grin is wide and toothy, but the boy takes his job very seriously and delivers the other ring to you. You smile brightly and caress his cheek after you take the shining, white gold band from him. It matches the thinner band that Dean has for you; it'll soon join the engagement ring that once belonged to his mother.

Robbie had liked Benny a lot, but he loves his dad. He’s probably the happiest person in the room to see his parents take each other’s hands in front of the minister. 

Benny is understandably absent in the chapel today. You had met with him after that night of your botched anniversary to apologize to him, and so had Dean. Benny understood. He’d admitted that in the back of his mind, he feared this might happen.

“I wouldn’t blame you for being angry with me,” you said to him. “You can even hate me if you want.” Benny gave you a wry, melancholy sort of smile. “Part of me’s still mad at you, I won’t lie…but there’s no use in it. Not even hating you.”

Even though Benny bowed out, carrying his hurt and his grief on those broad shoulders, letting you go meant letting go of a friend too. He put in his paperwork to transfer out of Firehouse 83.

As he’d told Dean himself that day, and in fact, the last words Benny said to him…

“There you go, Lieutenant. A spot’s just opened up.”

Dean didn’t want to get promoted this way. He felt guilty enough as it was, and not just for Benny leaving the firehouse. Benny recommended Dean to the Chief himself though, saying that if they were going to give someone a Lieutenant’s badge, it may as well be the guy who got a perfect score on his test, and had the natural leadership skills to boot.

To the end, Benny was a gentleman.

Now, Sam beckons his nephew over. Robbie quickly goes to his uncle’s side and puffs his little chest out as he stands proud behind his dad. 

Dean is able to take you in, your beautiful white dress, and everything about you that makes him smile…including the way you smile back at him.

Man and wife is all he hears. It’s all he needs to hear, before he’s pulling you closer by your newly anointed hand. He dips you for a thorough kiss in front of all your family and friends. 

You squeal in surprise, making Dean smile hard enough for his cheeks to hurt. Giggling hard enough to make you tremble, you raise a hand to caress his cheek. But you give him another real kiss after he guides you back up to your feet.

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips. The words are just for him to hear. Dean pulls back enough to see the truth shining in your eyes. Beautiful.

“Can’t help it, right?” he teases. 

You smile in amusement, but you grab his chin and shake it. 

“You got me,” you reply. “I really, really can’t.”

Your beaming smile softens. Even though the entire room is clapping and hooting and hollering in celebration, in that moment, all you really see is Dean. 

Here in his arms, you know that this is where you were meant to end up. From now on, it’s where you’re meant to be.

AN: From Lisa and Benny to Robbie and everything in between. Dean and the reader certainly aren't perfect in this, but what do you think about how their story unfolded? I truly hope you guys enjoy this one, because I've had so much fun with it. 🥰❤️❤️‍🔥

So please let me know what you thought! 😘

⋆˙⟡ Keep Reading: The Epilogue

"Shall I stay? Would it be a sin, if I can't help falling in love with you?"

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[livelaughloveluffy]

be mine - a valentine's day special with the monster trio, ace, and law!!!

a/n: happy valentines day everyone!!! i figured since the only valentine i have in my life are all my lovely fictional men, i would write only the fluffiest of headcanons for you guys!!

nothing but fluff here 💗

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monkey d. luffy

-valentine's day morning you get woken up to luffy jumping on top of you, smothering you in kisses. he's so excited to give you the small presents he got for you (a hand-picked bouquet, a locket with his initials that nami helped him pick out, and of course, lots and lots of chocolate).

-while the captain isn't the biggest romantic in the world, he definitely had an idea of how he wanted to spend the day with you. and with some help from the crew, he was able to make it a reality. luffy excitedly led you towards nami's tangerine trees, where you spotted the cutest picnic overlooking the ocean. the two of you spend the day basking in the sun, feeding each other chocolate and other sweet treats, utterly intertwined with one another.

-quality time and physical touch are luffy's main love languages so he's expectedly clingy to you all day, not that you mind. endless cuddles are just a given. every once and a while you'll get lulled to sleep as luffy gently plays with your hair, leaving gentle but sloppy kisses on your collarbones.

roronoa zoro

-as much as he puts on the front of being a moody, uncaring guy, you know zoro has the softest place in his heart for you. but for valentines day, he at first treats it like just another day. no mention of it, almost as if he forgot.

-by early evening, it's hard to not get your feelings just a little bit hurt over the fact that zoro forgot valentines day. as you stand at the taffrail overlooking the vast ocean, you feel zoro's hand against the smalls of your back, his chin resting on your shoulder as he mumbles "c'mere... you really didn't think i forgot, did you?" as he leads you into the kitchen on the thousand sunny. opening the door to a candlelit dinner made up for two, and as your eyes well up in tears with shock, zoro places a gentle kiss on your cheek "happy valentines day"

-you couldn't help but swoon when you found out the swordsman had actually been taking private cooking lessons with sanji for months preparing for this surprise. the chef initially deemed the man to be utterly hopeless and offered to cook for the two of you, but zoro insisted he learned and did it himself.

black leg sanji

-it's literally no surprise at all that this man is a certified lover boy. you'll wake up to a room full of flowers, a love letter on your nightstand, and sanji hand-delivering his freshly made breakfast in bed for you.

-he makes the entire day about you and his devotion to you. you are utterly pampered. all meals eaten on the prettiest bedside tray, with a special place setting and flower decor. you have to practically beg the man to feed yourself, because he insisted that even lifting a spoon or fork was too much for you to do. he'll set up a candle-lit bubble bath for you in the evening and stay in the bathroom with you to massage your back and scrub your hair.

-and of course, sanji makes only the most extravagant dessert for you. you can tell the countless hours he spent in the kitchen, perfecting his recipe. and while he tries to stifle his yawns, you have to pull the hopless cook into bed with you. thanking him for everything he did, as you find your way into his arms, gentle brushing his bangs out of his face before you both eventually fall asleep together.

portgas d. ace

-ace is definitely the most casual out of all the boys about valentines day, however that doesn't mean its because of a lack of thought or effort into the day.

-the feeling of ace's large warm hand against your cheek as he leans in to give you a kiss on the forehead, the soft whisper of "happy valentines day, baby." reaches your ears. the two of you collectively agree that you'd both rather just spend the day cuddled up together. no view or restaurant would ever be more comfortable than ace's bare chest. his hand softly running up and down your back, occasionally tracing shapes and patterns into your skin.

-even though you mutually agreed to keep things casual, ace surprised you with the cutest gift he had been holding on to for you. a large bouquet of your favorite flowers, as well as a matching pair to his signature necklace and bracelet.

trafalgar water d. law

-like zoro, as much as law tries to downplay his affection for you, his sweet affection for you consistently shines through all his many actions.

-the captain of the heart pirates led you to believe that he was swamped with work on valentines day, and didn't have time for you, though he promised to celebrate over the weekend with you. so when you returned to your room to the largest bouquet of roses placed on your bed alongside your favorite candy, your heart skipped a beat. instead he had been busy planning a spa day for you. a warm bubble bath with flower petals scattered in it, handmade face masks, and of course, law, ready to pamper you.

-as the two of you are getting ready for bed, law hands you a thin notebook. it's only after reading it that you discover it's a long love letter he's been writing to you since the two of you had started dating. he'll try and brush off the gesture, his gruff voice interrupting your thanks with a grumbled "it's nothing..." as happy tears fall down your cheeks.

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[prettygirl-gabi]

Do I Look Like Her?

Fandom: Women’s Basketball (WNBA/NCAA)

POV: A’dahlia Bueckers- Paige Bueckers (OC Daughter)

Summary: A’dahlia Bueckers, navigates legacy, pressure, and identity while forging her own path—on and off the court.

Inspired by “Do I Look Like Him” by Tyler, The Creator

🏷️: @paigeshirleytemple , @cowboybueckers , @unknowgirlypop , @yailtsv , @nicebellee , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @jadasogay , @paigeluvvr , @melpthatsme , @lessi-lover , @courtsidewithlani , @elswhore , @italyyy , @lightsgore , @private-but-not-a-secret , @aubreygriffin , @issilovesherself , @graceeeeeesblog , @sayurireidotcom

She said that I make expressions like her.

My legs to my shoulders and my chin like her.

My waist and my posture like her.

But I’m not her.

I never had a dad. Never needed one either.

Mama always said I was made with love—and science.

IVF, a little planning, a little hope.

And two women who loved each other enough to raise someone like me.

And still—sometimes—I stare in the mirror and wonder:

“Do I look like her?”

The answer depends on the day.

When I was five, I liked watercolors more than sports.

At six, I was a menace on the monkey bars.

Seven? Softball. I quit after two games.

Eight? Soccer. I was too aggressive.

Nine? Volleyball. I liked the shoes more than the game. And maybe because mama, played it professionally.

But ten… ten was basketball. And that stuck.

I’d always watched Mom—Paige—on TV. Even the grainy high school tapes. Her passes, her footwork, the way her eyes scanned the floor like she saw the game in slow motion. It was mesmerizing.

But I didn’t start playing for her.

I started because it felt right. Like home.

By middle school, people already had something to say.

“She moves like Paige.”

“She has her jump shot.”

“She’s probably been training since diapers.”

Not entirely wrong. But they never mentioned Mama. Never asked if she taught me how to box out or scream for rebounds or ice after games. Never asked if Mama was the one who dried my tears when I missed open layups.

The spotlight was always angled at my mom.

The echo of her name louder than mine.

It got worse when film started circulating. Scouts clipped highlights. Blogs started making “Next Bueckers?” videos. Videos of side-by-side footage comparing my no-look passes to hers.

I watched one of those videos in my room late one night. The screen split down the middle: Mom in her UConn days on the left. Me on the right.

We both drove left, spun, step-backed, pulled up.

We both made the shot.

I should’ve felt proud.

Instead, I whispered:

“Mama, I’m chasing a ghost. I don’t know who she is.”

Mama came in holding a basket of folded laundry. She didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at the paused video.

“She’s not a ghost,” Mama finally said. “She’s your mom. And you’re not chasing her—you’re learning from her. Big difference.”

“But everyone thinks I’m chasing her,” I muttered. “And sometimes I do too.”

She set the laundry down and sat beside me on the bed.

“I’ve never lied to you, baby. And I never will. But you need to believe me when I say: you are your own person. You came from both of us, but everything you’re building is yours. Not Paige’s. Not mine. Yours.”

The first time I cried after a post-game interview, I was sixteen.

I’d dropped 31 points, 8 assists, and 6 steals in a playoff game. We won by twenty. But the reporter smiled and asked me:

“So, what’s it like trying to fill your mom Paige’s shoes?”

I laughed at the time. Polite. Poised.

But the second I got home, I slammed the bedroom door.

“I’m not filling anyone’s shoes,” I said through tears when Paige came to check on me. “I’m wearing my own.”

Paige sat on the floor with me, her knees pulled to her chest.

“I know,” she said. “I know how hard it is when people don’t let you just be. I went through that too… I just had to prove myself as Paige. Not as someone’s daughter. But you—” she looked up at me, eyes soft, “you have to prove yourself as more than my daughter. And that’s a whole different fight.”

I wiped my nose with my sleeve.

“I’m tired of feeling like I’m not enough unless I’m you.”

She pulled me into her lap.

“A’dahlia, I don’t want you to be me. I want you to be you. And for what it’s worth… I think you’re already better.”

I don’t think people realize what the last name Bueckers carries.

In airports. In gyms. On game day programs. It’s a crown and a curse.

A brand I never asked for, but one I refuse to run from.

Because somewhere deep down, I’m proud.

Proud that Paige Bueckers is my mom.

Proud that Mama believed in me when I didn’t.

Proud of the late nights, the tears, the drills, the ice baths.

So yeah, I started watching film again.

Not to compare—but to study.

I watched mom’s vision, her feel for tempo, her movement. I broke it down, built it back up, and mixed it with my style.

I’m stronger than she was. Faster in transition. More vocal on defense.

And I pass like her, sure. But I shoot like me.

Senior year came like a thunderstorm—loud, fast, and impossible to ignore.

Every school you could think of wanted me.

Stanford. LSU. South Carolina. Duke. UCLA. Oregon. UConn.

The hardest part? Nobody asked if I wanted them.

They just assumed UConn.

Assumed it was destiny.

Assumed I wanted to wear Paige’s number and relive her legacy.

But I didn’t tell anyone my answer.

Not mom-Paige.

Not Mama.

Not even myself—not until the night before Signing Day.

I was in the kitchen, sitting at the counter, staring at the five hats on the table. I’d narrowed it down to UConn, Stanford, LSU, South Carolina, and Duke.

Mom walked in and paused.

“Need help?” she asked.

I shook my head.

“Already decided.”

She sat beside me. “So why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

I chuckled softly.

“Because maybe I have.”

She didn’t respond, just waited.

“I’ve spent so long asking myself if I look like you,” I said. “Not just my face, but… how I play. How I lead. How I move on the court. But what scares me most is that people won’t see me. Just… the ghost of Paige Bueckers.”

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t look hurt. Just said gently:

“You gave me love and affection, attention, protection. I would never miss something I’ve never had.”

I looked at her, surprised.

“That’s the song I’ve been listening to.”

She nodded.

“I know. Mama played it the other night. She cried.”

I swallowed hard.

“I would never judge you,” I whispered. “Cause everything worked out. I mean it.”

A long silence passed.

“You’re not my shadow, A’dahlia,” Paige finally said. “You’re the sun. Bright as hell. Blinding sometimes. But always yours.”

I didn’t announce my decision until the cameras were rolling. Gym packed. Teammates buzzing. Five hats on the table.

I stared at them, hands steady, mind clear.

And I picked up the navy one with the silver letters:

UCONN.

Gasps. Cheers. A few people even stood up. The cameras snapped. Mama cried.

Then I saw mom bury her face in her hands.

And I smiled.

Not because I was following my mom.

But because I was writing the next chapter of my story.

That night, we sat on the back porch. Me, Paige, and Mama. Just us. Moonlight cutting across the yard, a breeze teasing the hem of my sweatpants.

“I didn’t choose UConn because of you,” I said quietly. “I chose it because it’s where I can become the player I want to be. The leader. The person.”

Paige leaned her head on my shoulder.

“Then you picked right.”

Mama nodded, voice thick with emotion.

“You’re everything we dreamed of,” she whispered. “And nothing we expected.”

I smiled through a sting of tears.

“I’m everything I strived to be,” I said. “So, tell me… do I look like her?”

They looked at each other.

“No,” Mama said.

“No,” mom echoed.

“You look like you.”

So maybe I make expressions like her.

Maybe I move like her.

Maybe our footwork is twins.

But I’m not her.

I’m A’dahlia Bueckers.

Made with love.

Built with fire.

And chasing no one but myself.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

                 -Thank You For Reading!💚💙

                             -prettygirl-gabi✨️💗

[heartsforrain00]

Kinktober ! Week two - Suguru Geto

His pretty girl ! - Suguru Geto

warnings: Geto's like mad rich, semi-public sex, car sex, black reader, female pronouns, pet names, Emo/Cutesy trope, calm but rough sex, shower sex(only a little bit).

Fucking his cutie ☺️/🌽 link

Suguru Geto

You? Suguru Geto’s girlfriend? But he’s a cult leader and you’re just his cutesy, bimbo girlfriend. There’s no way YOU’RE his girlfriend, every girl is jealous because he decided to be with some bimbo.

They don’t even know you and they’re making judgements, how careless and ruthless of people to assume you’re just some ‘bimbo bitch’. That’s what you get called almost everyday.

Just because you’re dating a cult leader. One who’s rich and sexy of course, you love Suguru so much, you can’t help but ask him something you’ve been wanting to do for a while.

Suguru said he didn’t mind when you walk into his meetings because you’re way more important than those filthy monkeys. So that’s what you did, walk into a meeting that was being held currently.

“Sugu’ I have a minor but major request for you” you say, as you sit down on his lap, smiling as you faced him. The other people in the room just stared like you were crazy. Interrupting an important meeting for most likely something stupid ?

“Hm? What is it my dear?” Suguru questioned, raising his hand to tell those filthy animals to shut the fuck up so his precious girlfriend could speak.

“Can we get a hello kitty hotel ? i saw one was open nearby and i really wanna go, but of course i had to ask you because you’re my baby, and i don’t wanna go alone.” You say, holding his hand.

Suguru just stares at you. While the others mumble and whisper to each other. That's when some girl speaks up. “My lord, should we really be paying attention to this monkey ? Especially during an important meeting ?”

Did she just call you a monkey? In front of Suguru? You were about to say something but everyone started laughing and agreeing with the girl. Which clearly pissed you off, she was only saying that because she had a crush on Suguru.

“Sure, my love, we can go to a hello kitty hotel, just hold on and let me finish this meeting, yeah?” Suguru completely ignored the girl and smiled.

You jump off his lap and go to pack. “I’ll pack us some clothes Sugu’ !” You exclaimed before running out of the meeting room. As you left, Suguru turned back to the meeting and stood up. He mumbled a silent command and left the room.

“My dear? Are you in here?” He questioned, pushing the door open to your shared bedroom to see you sitting on the bed, with clothes next to you.

“Sugu’ I have no idea what to wear ! I mean I obviously don’t want it to be revealing since we’re being driven but then I want to for the pleasure and sake of you” You scoff as you stand up and began to walk and pace around.

“Gorgeous, calm down, you can wear whatever you want, we’re only going to a hotel, plus if any monkey looks at you then they will be dealt with. So get dressed and we’ll be on our way, yeah?” He says, cupping your face as you hum.

You were unpacking your bags on the bed, while Suguru went to go shower. You were so tempted to just go get in the shower with him - and that’s what you were gonna go do.

You lay your clothes out on the bed and walk to the bathroom, pushing open the door quietly as you walk inside and take off your clothes.

You push open the curtain, and step in behind Suguru, wrapping your arms around him. “Hello, my dear” Suguru mutters as he places his hands on yours.

You smile as you move your hand down, to jerk him off, knowing it would catch him off guard. He places one hand against the wall, to keep himself up, great to know it actually caught him off guard.

Suguru turns to you and picks you up. “what's the point in showering if we'll just have to do it again?” He questions, positioning his cock at your soaking entrance. He looks at you, humming as you seem to not be paying a lot of attention to the fact that he was about to push himself inside of your cunt.

He quickly pushes into you, and grins when you bite down onto his shoulder to muffle your moans. He was disappointed with that gesture, and holds onto you, and begins to move inside of you as he presses you against the wall.

Meanwhile you had your arms wrapped around his neck, your boyfriend wasn't even worried about that, he was worried about getting those moans out of you, and those noises out that sloppy cunt.

He pulls up the curtain, continuing to carry you and practically throws you onto the bed, he grabs your legs and pulls you closer. He pushes himself inside. His thrusts start off slow, but they start to get faster and faster as he's fucking your cunt.

You and your poor cunt were getting fucked stupid, you should've known that teasing him was gonna go backwards if you were going to be the one getting fucked in the end.

“you gonna cum for me, baby?” Suguru questioned, all you could do was nod, you can't even form words since he was fucking you so dumb. “So fuckin' do it.” It was basically on his command that you came on his dick.

He came right after, pressing his body aginst yours to rest for a moment before standing up. “I'll go set up the bath for us baby” he muttered, kissing your forehead as he left.

Finally done week 2 !! week 3 should be published by saturday, and week four is a halloween special !!

[etherealily]

ᴛʜᴇ ʙʟɪɴᴅꜱ // ꜰ.ᴏᴅᴀɪʀ

My other Finnick fics, if you have the time.

This was from my poll .

Finnick Odair + fem!reader. Cuss words. Slightly longer.

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Desc. : Capitol-bred, out-of-touch, insensitive. You're everything he hates. But not quite. You're a crisis of his faith hate.

࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐

Finnick hated this. He hated that he didn't have anything better to do on a Saturday night than move in to an apartment at the Capitol.

His best mates are at home, prepping the entire District two weeks before New Year's Eve, something he loved doing, and he was here, with a shiny old key to a dull new apartment. A penthouse, as if he cared.

As an extra-cruel addition, Snow had apparently installed venetian blinds that, when closed, looked like the ocean. Finnick felt like a chimp in an enclosure with trees painted on the wall, to make him "feel right at home". This is what you can't have, Finnick. What rightfully belongs to you. Jump around, little monkey.

Armed with the key and whatever possessions he could scrounge up that he didn't mind losing here at the Capitol (and a couple that he needed for sanity reasons that he would die if he lost, stored deep in his bag), he glared at the door. It was so fucking gaudy, he could break it down.

He put the key into the lock. The door swung open before he even turned it. It was unlocked?

Gingerly, he stepped in, dropping his bags onto the nearest chair and taking cautious step after cautious step into the room, half-expecting Snow to come out and give him one of those speeches that didn't do anything but show Finnick how absolutely out-of-touch he was.

Instead, he saw you.

"Uh, hello?"

You turned, slightly startled, from the venetian blinds that you'd been observing, before you smiled politely. "Hello, you must be Finnick."

Great! Just fucking great! Not only was he having to live in the fucking Capitol, now he was having a Capitol-bred roommate? Snow hadn't told him that!

"Yeah, uh, hi."

You gave him your name, reaching over to shake his hand. Huh. Where had he seen you before?

"Do I have to sleep on the couch, or...?", he laughed nervously, gesturing at the singular bed in the room.

You frowned. "I mean, y'know, if you want to? Is that how you sleep in the Districts?"

Beg fucking pardon? "What?"

"I'm sorry, did that offend? I wasn't given the proper greetings to use with you."

"Listen, if we're gonna be roommates, we're gonna need some ground rules—"

He didn't like your immediate sharp laugh at that. "Roommates? No, god, no. We're not roommates.", you informed, diligently.

"Then who the hell are you?"

Though evidently mildly taken aback by his use of the profanity, your cheery demeanor never faded. "Uh, no, I'm your mentor."

The world stopped, for a moment. The Games again? What?! This was not the fucking deal!

"Mags Flanagan was my mentor.", he replied, quietly and cautiously.

"Oh! Oh, yes, yes, sorry, yes, she was your mentor for the Hunger Games. I am your Capitol Fixture Mentor.", you announced, as if he was supposed to clap.

His what-fucking-who-now?

"One more time?"

"Your Capitol Fixture Mentor."

"English, please."

"You've been given this penthouse because President Snow thinks you're doing so well that you deserve to stay here."

Deserve. "Mhm?"

"So, you'll become a Fixture here at the Capitol. Capitol Fixture. And I'm here to help shape you right up."

He knew he must have looked like a jerk, his head tilted to the side as he eyed you up and down. You must have felt exposed, judged, even. And you'd be right. He was judging you hard. Who the hell did you think you were, unsettlingly-enthusiastic young thing — younger than him, actually — in your stupid Capitol outfit with your stupid Capitol makeup and your stupid Capitol dialect, telling him he needed to be changed`? Eurgh.

"Shape me up? Into what, exactly?", he challenged, his arms crossed.

"President Snow wants to put you in more advertisements, more promotions, y'know? More public appearances and whatnot. Make you someone of worth out here."

"I won the Games, little girl, I am of worth, and the deal was that if I won the Games, I could live out the rest of my life at home, in the Victor's Village, so you can t—" He cut himself off then. He couldn't threaten Snow back, he'd burn down his house, easy. "He told me I could go home.", he gritted out, his voice level and patient.

You frowned, the corners of your lips turning down. "Oh. I wasn't informed of such an arrangement. But I think you might like to know th—"

"I would like to know when I can go home and visit my family.", he spat.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'll... I'll go recheck if you want.", you mumbled.

"Yeah, I'd appreciate that.", he scoffed, watching you nod and leave.

What did Snow take him for? He'd already been having to try to live with the fact that the darling President had had him going on call after call to the Patrons, renting him out for God knows how much, but fuck, Finnick might actually drown himself if he had to go about promoting the Capitol, the Games.

Ugh, at least he could finally—

"They turned me right around.", you explained, defensively, as if he was about to maul you for being directed back in by Peacekeepers. Was it true, then? Did the Capitol really think people from the Districts were all animals?

Guilt prodded at him. You were a kid, what was he doing?

"Alright, it's okay. Just... relax. I'll unpack. Pretend like you already told me whatever you were instructed to t—", he sighed, in sudden realization. "You're mic'd."

"I am." Okay, if this was what you'd been trying to tell him all along, he was officially an absolute jerk.

Shaking his head, he yanked his bag from his chair. Apparently, it was unzipped, because he heard some stuff falling from it, but turning back would just be embarrassing. He had to save face.

In the mirror, he could see you frowning down at his clothes and bending over to pick them up.

"Leave them.", he ordered, not turning back.

"On the floor? Is that... is that how you keep them in the Districts? Because that's what the armoire is for."

"Alright, listen, kid, if you're gonna quote-unquote "mentor me", we're gonna have to set some ground fucking rules, alright?", he snapped, using air quotes before pointing at you as he swiveled around.

You nodded quickly. Yeesh. You were clearly going to make a habit of making him feel bad for his brashness, that's for sure.

"Number one : you don't talk about my District ever. Ever. I don't care what the context is, alright? Someone asks you to name all the Districts, you go "One, Two, Three, Five, Six, and so on." You get me? Not a word about my Four."

You nodded again.

"They don't teach you the word "Yes" here at the Capitol?"

"Yes."

"Good. Rule number two : you do not get to talk about the Games. You hear me?"

"Yes."

"Last rule. You're gonna...", he trailed off, reaching into his pocket for a pen of some sort. "You're gonna...", he struggled, trying to come up with a last rule to satisfy any listening ears. What is something Snow would expect him to fucking say?

As he was scrambling for an end to the sentence, he managed to find a pen at the edge of its life. Would have to do. He grabbed for your hand, scrawling on it : 'Give me a signal if you're mic'd.'

A finger at his lips.

"...Gonna not change you entirely?", you offered, nodding silently at the note on your palm.

Yeah, that'd be something Snow expected him to say. Okay, not bad.

He watched you open the blinds, the taunting ocean from Four disappearing, and sunlight shining through. That was your signal that you were mic'd.

"Yes.", he muttered, making sure whoever was listening in got that down. "Not change me entirely. I still wanna be Finnick, no matter what sort of training you give me."

"Alright. I, uh, accept your conditions."

"Rules."

"I'm President-appointed. These are conditions."

Alright, touché, he just got his ass handed to him in five words, he'll shut up.

"What were you supposed to do, again?"

"Well, today was just supposed to be about settling you in."

"Oh, you're the help, today?", he scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "Thought I'd get an Avox. Fine. Whatever. Just sit there while I unpack."

And, to his immediate guilt, you did. Fuck.

After about five minutes of silent unpacking, he sighed. Least he could do is humour you. "What's tomorrow?"

"Saturday?"

He snorted. "No, I mean what's... what's the itinerary?", he asked, gratefully accepting the hanger you offered him, before hanging a shirt onto it and propping it onto the rod inside the armoire.

"Oh, speaking. I tell you possible questions you may be asked, and how to avoid ones you don't know."

You talked so enthusiastically about this, he suddenly understood that you knew everything but the most important things about him. You knew he was seventeen going on eighteen. You knew he had won the Games. You knew he was from District Four. You knew he was very cooperative with Snow, maybe even (in your eyes) one of his "favourites"`.

But you didn't know what he was being forced to do.

You didn't know why he was a "favourite".

The agonized, traumatized sadist in him wanted to burst your bubble. To tell you. But these are not things that one does.

"Do it today. Since we're not, y'know, doing anything."

You nodded. "Alright. One moment."

You pulled a tiny notebook out of your pocket and he hid a scoff. "Alright, you are not to talk about the Games. Unless you become a mentor, that is."

"But Mags is the mentor for Four."

"For now. Mags is nearly seventy.", you explained, clearly not knowing how close he was to screaming and screeching and storming into Snow's home and shooting him point-blank in the head for making him mentor kids younger than him to die, too.

"Right.", he muttered, blowing at some dust as he placed his collection of shells at his bedside.

"In the Rip, you must have a huge screen. They always do, right, in the Districts? To watch th— um, to watch things on."

The Rip was a special part of District Four, Finnick's favourite, because when the Peacekeepers weren't looking, there was an old man who had a camera and props, and would take photos of you for a fair price. And he'd manage to print them out somehow, as well, by pulling a lot of strings, and then you'd get a physical copy of it.

Only during holidays, though. Strictly.

Good, you didn't mention the Games.

"Yes, we have a screen."

"Good. So, you might have watched uh... interviews..."

"With the tributes. Yeah."

"Yes. You might have noticed that their audios may not always sync up with the video."

Yes, he had, actually. "Yes? That's a... it's called a glitch, right?"

The corners of your lips tugged to the side in a grimace, before you shook your head. "Usually, yeah, but not when it comes to the G— not in this case."

Okay, this, he did not know. "Elaborate."

"With pleasure.", you scoffed under your breath, and he decided that was a little too adorable to be taken as smart-mouthing, so he let it slide. "Sometimes, people say things that could be misconstrued as anti-Panem which, of course, as a tribute is never the intention, but it tends to happen."

He remembered his own Games, how happy he was to be there, how much he was looking forward to honouring the Capitol. And then he got there, and Mags had retained her sweetness, and suddenly, Finnick's goal was no longer to win the Games and honour the Capitol, it was to win the Games to honour his District and his family, his District Partner (if she didn't make it) and Mags.

"Tends to happen.", he mumbled, rubbing at his jawline.

"Yeah. And editing the feed, especially live feeds, is very risky, complicated and costly. You need to know how to speak, not edit. Alright? We cannot afford to keep editing what you say."

"And what is this line of questioning?", he scoffed.

"Do you miss District Four?"

"What kind of ques— yes, of course, it's my home, I fucking hate this place."

An imaginary gun, composed of two of your fingers was pointed at him, and you fired it. "Wrong."

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "I'll just not answer."

"And make yourself look more guilty of treason?"

"Alright, what am I supposed to say?"

"Be as truthful as you can. Until you can't."

"Solid advice. You should be on TV."

You cocked the imaginary gun again. "So, Finnick Odair. You're from District Four. Do you miss it at all?"

He gnawed on his upper lip for a moment, his mind racing on what would happen if he just jumped out the door, beat up the Peacekeepers, shot Snow, and ran back home to his District Four. But whoa. No. He needed to answer, or god forbid, this annoying little Capitol girl would imaginarily blow his fucking brains out.

"I... miss... my family...", he began, and was only encouraged by your tiny smile. Alright, clearly he was on the right track. "...And, yeah, sure, I grew up in District Four, so... that's my home—"

"No. Uh, you had it until you said 'home'. You can't make the District look better than the Capitol. If it was, wouldn't everyone just move there?"

"It is, though."

"For you. Because you're so comfortable there, because you grew up there. You can't suggest that it's better than the Capitol."

"How should I answer, then?"

"Ask me something."

"Why are you so insufferable?", he snorted, before trying to rack his brain for an actual possible question to ask you. To his surprise, though, you cleared your throat.

"Well, I won't lie and say I haven't got that one before. But I just think it's me being incredibly dedicated to the assignment I was given, especially one to mentor someone as incredible as you, who really doesn't need mentoring, considering your phenomenal performance in the Games."

It's like you had a fucking script or something, that was fantastic.

"Whoa.", he murmured, tilting his head at you as if you were about to grow four heads or something.

"So, Finnick Odair. What is your favourite thing about now being a Capitol Fixture?"

He took a deep breath, looking into your eyes — fuck, those eyes! — before beginning. "The food. 100% the food. Although I grew up on District Four grub and it'll always hold a special place in my heart, the food here is the reason I understand the phrase "chef's kiss", now, honestly.", he explained, with a little charming chuckle at the end.

"The interviewers won't clap for you, Finnick, but I will.", you encouraged, and for the first time ever, he got applause that he felt like he deserved.

࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐

"What the hell — should I have made "don't let yourself into my apartment" one of the rules?!", he yelled, sitting up as he heard you in distinct conversation elsewhere, through the ruckus of all the men walking past you, covering you entirely, actually, before going through his personal belongings and either replacing them with shinier, more Capitol-y bullcrap, or just tossing it down onto the floor. Like his childhood wasn't pretty enough.

At least the blinds were closed.

The men ignored him, and he did start at them, but he heard your voice from somewhere within the chaos. "You make a fuss, it's all the more reason for them to throw things away, because it makes you liability."

What were all these new rules he wasn't informed of but expected to know?!

Too many people, so he couldn't see you, but he could hear you over the shuffle of clothes and the clangs of trinkets being thrown haphazardly. "Hi, sir, this was a gift I got for my Fixture."

The burly man raised a brow, picking up the locket. His mother's. It must have fallen out of his bag, which is why you knew what it was. "You got a man a locket?", he asked, skepticism blooming in his voice.

"I didn't know that a locket was a particularly feminine thing. I spent a majority of my childhood at sea, you'll have to excuse me.", you replied, smiling and looking down.

"So you're, like... absolutely clueless?"

"Pretty much.", you giggled. "Embarrassing, huh?"

He couldn't see how you were doing it, but as much as he could eavesdrop, you used a different tactic for salvaging each item. "It would really be a cute token, I think, a seashell-collection? It's part of who he is, right?", or "It makes him look multi-faceted, that drawing. He isn't just a Victor, he's an artist. He's deep."

It took a while for them to leave. He'd been fiddling with the annoying fucking blinds again, watching the picture appear and disappear (why was that the only thing they left untouched?) before you cleared your throat.

"Finally. Here, I managed to save your locket, your shells, this little drawing, the poem, and the message-in-a-bottle with sand in it."

He turned. He almost wished he hadn't.

Finnick's heart crawled up to his throat.

Finnick's heart stopped in his throat, actually. Butterflies were past tense for him, he was dealing with unnaturally sized dragonflies, that poked their stick-like bodies at every square inch of his stomach.

You were breathtaking.

"What, uh...", he laughed nervously for a moment, rubbing the back of his head. "What are you wearing?"

"I was told I had to."

"Why?", he asked, immediately, a heat creeping up the back of his neck. You looked way too perfect. You were wearing the classic District Four dress he'd seen girls wear, growing up, your hair put up in the same way, and clearly you'd been instructed to stand the same way, somehow, too. But the rest of your body language? You were undeniably uncomfortable in this. Not because of the simplicity, but maybe the texture. Your skin was too used to soft Capitol silks for this.

"I was told it'd make you feel more comfortable, and it would also help model your clothes for the press—"

"God, how "good" do you think our President is?!", he snapped.

"What?"

"It's not to make me more "comfortable", it's to let me know I'll never have a fucking tangible piece of District Four here with me! You being here, looking like... well, that, serves the same purpose as those fucking blinds, with the ocean on them! It's not to make me feel more at home, he needs me to know this isn't my home!"

"You can keep these clothes, and I salvaged your keepsakes, plus you can alw—"

"Always what? Visit District Four? Yeah, for, like, a week, with surveillance and cameras and posing. And the clothes?", he scoffed, flicking at the collar. "You're wildly uncomfortable in them! You won't like to wear them all the time so yes, I have no tangible piece of District Four here with me, and thank you for that, thank you and President Snow!", he spat, gesturing wildly at the blinds.

The silence roared in his ears.

You nodded, subtly. "I am uncomfortable in this, but I could wear it for longer, and we could get inspiration for your outfits from this."

He sighed. You just didn't get it. He rubbed at the side of his cheek in exasperation, "I won't expect you to, and he knows that. Because that would be changing who I was. That would be selfish. That would be him."

"I'm sorry you don't have District Four with you."

"You can take it all off, now. Change.", he cut you off, waving before he turned to give you privacy.

"I don't want to."

"Yes, you do. Two people in discomfort in one room is way too Capitol for me."

You smiled. "Alright. The bag doesn't have other clothes in it, though."

"It's fine, borrow some of the crap the Capitol put into my armoire."

"Yeah?"

"Go ahead, I won't miss it."

"Thank you, Finnick Odair."

"Finnick. Just call me Finnick."

"Thank you, Finnick."

He fiddled with the cords of the blinds again, watching the blue of the faux-ocean — the fauxcean — flicker as he did.

"Um, I'm done."

Alright, this was getting ridiculous. His excuse for the previous emergence of the dragonflies was that you were wearing District Four garb, and he could pretend that you reminded him of some crush of his youth. But now? You were wearing Capitol stuff, oddly patterned and bright, and you still looked radiant.

"Bit big, huh?"

"Yeah." You shook your arms to show the flap of excess cloth.

"But better?"

You nodded. "Yeah, sorry."

"Hey, your comfort zone's my discomfort zone and vice-versa. Don't sweat it.", he assured, taking the Four garments from you and refusing to let you fold it. "We fold it a bit differently. Mind?"

"No, not at all."

"You can take that off, too, don't worry about it."

"My clothes? Again?", you asked, tilting your head and frowning.

He snorted, pointing at a tiny necklace on you, the only thing about your remaining outfit that was simple. Well, besides your hair. And he was glad you never wore your hair like the rest of the Capitol people, because hair was the second thing he noticed in someone. After their eyes.

Whenever he met someone new, he always pictured how the ocean breeze would treat them. If it was nice to their hair, he'd be nice to them. If the ocean hated them, well, Finnick knew to stay away.

Alright. He was bumming himself out. What ocean breeze, Finnick? You're stuck here for an indefinite amount of time. Get it together.

"What about that?"

Instinctively, you clutched at it, furrowing your brows. "What about it?"

"It's not yours."

"Sure is!"

"Right. And this penthouse is my birthright."

"Listen, I have been nothing but nice to you, but I do not appreciate being called a liar!"

He slid his fingernail under the anchor-pendant, lifting it up to examine it. "That is only made in the districts. I should know, my neighbour was a master welder who made things exactly like this."

"My great-grandmother agreed to become a Capitol Fixture just like you after having a child with a Harrington! And she passed this down! So there!"

Had he just class-shamed a girl he didn't know? God, Snow was rubbing off on him.

"You're District?"

"No.", you muttered. "Part. My family is."

"Which one?", he urged.

A pause. "Four."

Ah, he thought so! He could see the resemblance to some of his neighbours, honestly. "That's why you were assigned to me. To taunt me that the only connection I have to Four is contaminated by Capitol."

"Contaminated? You think I'm contaminated?"

"No, you—", he sighed. Okay, yeah, that's what it sounded like. "You're just... you're not pure District. You have Capitol in you. As far as I know, your grandmother didn't get married, right? Because that would've ruined the Harringtons. So... your mother was a Capitol mix?"

"And that makes us tainted?"

"No, no, I just mean—"

"Listen, you're not better than me because I have Capitol in me, alright?"

"Hey, that's not what I said. I'm not better. I know that.", he replied, slowly, clearly and warmly. "I just said... Snow knows I'm itching for District Four. I miss my home, Y/N, alright? And you... you're perfect, but you're supposed to be a reflection of what I'm going to become in a couple years' time. More Capitol than District. You understand?"

"I don't think you understand just how much President Snow thinks about you. You think he's out here to make your life worse, but he had these special-ordered from your District, and even put up signs all over to ask for a stylist from your District."

He was this close to actually jumping out the window. "He did not put up any signs. And even if he did, no one will come, alright? They think I'm a sell-out." His voice broke out of sheer exhaustion at the last word, and he felt like he was about to collapse.

Thankfully, you didn't try to double-down on your notion that Snow was Finnick's guardian angel, and instead, played around with your hair. At least that's what it looked like, to him, but no, apparently you'd reached back to unclasp the necklace.

"Here. Tangible piece of District Four."

"Oh, come on, that's on purpose, you're just trying to be all 'I'm-the-bigger-person', I'm so kind even though you're a prick, boo-hoo-me, and it's fucking manipulative.", he spat, shoving your hand back towards you.

"Or maybe I really just am a good person, Odair!", you scoffed, slamming the tiny anchor-chain down onto the table beside him. "Otherwise, why would I have salvaged your trinkets?!"

"Go ahead! Throw something that comes from the Districts away! We're only disposable to you assholes, right? Though you're part District!", he called, as you tried storming away. "And WHY? Conveniently, no one's telling me why my shit's getting thrown to the floor!", he bellowed, his hands out wide in exaggerated questioning.

"There's a Finnick Odair Penthouse Apartment episode this week on Panem Properties by Link Domus!", you yelled back, slamming the door behind you as you were, once again, pushed back in by the Peacekeepers.

"What?!" Oh, he fucking hated that show with everything in his heart! He used to make fun of it with his family, and now he was going to be on it?!

You nodded. "There'll be a camera crew coming in this weekend, and we really can't have it looking shabby. It should increase sales of a lot of products."

Products he had never and will never use. Good to know.

"So, there's a deadline, now? You have to make me the ideal Capitol Fixture by the end of the week?"

"Welcome to my discomfort zone.", you scoffed.

࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐

"I'm surprised you're normal about this.", he mumbled, more to himself than to you, but you were so close together, it made sense you'd hear him. "My escort during the Games hated coming to the District, even though we're one of the cleanest ones."

"I need you calm. New Years is coming up, and that means parties and interviews and events.", you responded, sternly, clearly avoiding his gaze.

"Hey." A nudge to your shoulder. "Seriously. Thanks. Apparently, people think I'm some sort of ladies' man. Which I'm not, I'm seventeen, but, y'know, being able to breathe here in Four is gonna do wonders."

"Oh. So I was right about my hunch. They fabricated it to make you juicier."

"'Juicier'.", he scoffed. "Where did that stupid expression even come from?"

"I guess when fruits are juicier, they're more satisfying to sink your teeth into.", you suggested, shrugging as if you hadn't just hit the nail on the head. "

Sink your teeth into. How apt.

He didn't like how nervously you looked out the window, as if District Four residents would attack you for not acknowledging your roots. And then, he realized you only probably thought that because of him, and how he had actually attacked you for it.

Fuck. Everything was coming up Snow, wasn't it?

"The Rip has this really cool spot.", he whispered under his breath. "It's all very hush-hush, but there's this man, Hector, who takes amazing photos."

"Photos? Cameras? Aren't they bann—"

"Yes, but he's a friend. Shh. We'll get some taken."

"I don't want to take a photo with you."

"You will once you see Hector's booth."

~~~~

"So, you're saying you know everything about District Four, the entire topography, but this is your first time here?", inquired Hector, in sheer fascination, with his wizened smile and gravelly voice.

"Well, yes, I'm part-Harrington, I was given the maps, and when I was bored, I'd study them."

"You seem smart."

"I do?"

"Yes. Here."

You took the prop from him, a headpiece that had a pink brain springing up from it, that wobbled when your head moved. You let out a sharp laugh, looking at yourself in the mirror. "I look ridiculous."

"-Ly cool. Come on.", instructed Finnick.

"The usual, Finnick?"

He nodded, and Hector presented him with a headpiece just like yours, although this had a slightly horrifying anatomically correct heart on it, clearly cut out from some sort of textbook, like yours.

And then there you were, squished into a photo booth nearly on Finnick Odair's lap.

"You know how this works, Finnick, yeah? Explain it to your girl, because my head is killing me.", grumbled Hector, and Finnick rolled his eyes, punching his chest.

"When is it not, with all that alcohol you drink, huh?", teased Finnick, before drawing the curtain. "Alright, so we're supposed to pose."

"Oh, I had no idea.", you gasped, sardonically.

"We're so cool, huh? Head and heart? How amazing is that?", he exclaimed, before gently directing your jaw to face the camera. "That's one. Three more. Wow me with your ability to not be annoying."

You scoffed. "You're one to fucking talk!", you hissed, at the same moment that he gasped at your use of the cuss word.

The photo clicked.

"Oh, so she does swear! Beautiful. Two more, honey, and then we're going to the beach."

࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐

His fingers traced the sand, aimless curves through it. "So, what do you think of District Four?", he asked, turning to you and squinting one eye to cover the glare from the sun.

"It's wonderful."

"Would you live here?"

"I wouldn't have minded it."

"So, you do understand why I miss it."

You thumbed over the copy of the photobooth pictures, shrugging. "Yeah, but we can't do anything about it. You agreed."

"I didn't agree to jackshit."

The breeze swallowed up his words, quiet as they were, but the anger festered.

He grunted as he stood up to go closer to the water, taking off that stupid fucking Capitol shirt and letting it flee with the wind. At least when he got to the water, you wouldn't be able to tell if it was his tears or the ocean.

"Whoa, wait, what do you mean b—"

But he was off before you could finish. Maybe he wanted you to race after him. Maybe he wanted you to turn him around so that he could hug you to avoid looking at your face. You'll never know. Perhaps he meant it that way. But holding Finnick Odair humanized him. And, to him, humanized you.

࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐

"Sticks."

"Stellar."

"Reeds."

"Stars."

"Seashells."

"Stop with the 's's!", you giggled, swatting at his shoulder.

He gripped your nose between two of his fingers, pinching it. "I want to spend New Years here."

"We can't, Finnick, you know we can't, I'll get in trouble, you'll get in trou—"

"We have to. We have to. There's so much you, oh my god, you'd love the knot-tying, no, no, we have cupcake-wars, which is like, self-explanato— we quite literally have to stay, for my sanity."

"Why are you so insufferable?", you muttered.

He cleared his throat. Oh, no. What had you done?

"Well, I won't lie and say I haven't got that one before.", he parroted you from earlier in a voice that was such a poor attempt at mimickery you almost got offended. "But I just think it's me being incredibly dedicated to the assignment I was given, which is making sure you stay here— god, that was terrible, how did you listen to that with a straight face?"

"Who said I was listening? I spaced out after "assignment", man."

He laughed until the silence prompted him to stop.

But he fought it.

"You should wear the District Four outfit more often, though.", he mumbled, trying his best not to blurt out every thought in his head if only to sort his mind out and quiet it down.

"Yeah? Why?"

"It's perfect on you. Like you were made for it. Or something."

"You mean, it was made for me."

"No, not necessarily.", he informed matter-of-factly, allowing himself a moment to look at your side profile in the night. That looked like it was made for him. "It's not always things being made for people."

"No?"

He shook his head, moving so he was hovering above you. "But you know what it always is?"

"Mm?"

"People being made for people."

It didn't surprise you, really, that line. Seemed on-brand.

He gently guided you up so that he could be eye-level with you. "You're my piece of District Four. You and...", he murmured, gently pulling out the photos from his pocket. "...and this."

You nodded.

"You're okay with that?"

"The blinds are closed, Finnick. I promise."

That's what prompted the kiss. It shut you up for a good long while, and it really calmed him down, too. He grinned, forehead on yours, before a tiny gasp left him. "Almost forgot. Here."

A tiny circular locket glistened under the moonlight on your palm.

Your brows furrowed as you allowed him to pepper multiple kisses on your cheek. "Your locket? Isn't it your mother's?"

He nodded. "Look what I'm wearing."

You looked down. Your anchor-pendant.

You were both each other's piece of District Four, and now you had each other's piece of District Four.

This was the most poetic thing to happen to him since birth.

Take that, Snow.

Everything was coming up Finnick.

[adieutristana]

happy birthday!; arcane women x fem!reader

so my birthday was back in december. but i thought this would be cute regardless

sorry for kinda slow uploads! midterm season + burnout + working full shifts every weekend… i’ve got stuff cooking dw

summary; headcanons of arcane women celebrating their girlfriend’s birthday.

characters included; jinx, vi, mel, sevika, caitlyn

tags/warnings; fluff, a lot of fluff, possible hurt/comfort, just cute stuff all around

men dni.

jinx;

✧.* jinx is a bit intimidated by the idea of celebrating your birthday, at first. she hasn’t done much for her birthday in years, not since before what happened on the bridge years ago. silco would give her a pre-packaged cake with the appropriate number of candles every year, but that was it. however, jinx is never one to back down from a challenge.

✧.* as jinx's girlfriend, you don't just get a party, a celebration, anything like that for your birthday. you get a whole damn festival.

✧.* jinx never does anything halfway. she wouldn't be able to live with herself if she'd given you a lackluster birthday.

✧.* jinx wakes you up at the first hint of daylight with poppers and streamers, giggling all the way and jumping on her heels. she doesn't seem to care that you're grumbling and trying to cover your ears, clearly not happy being woken up this early. "it's your birthday! your birthday! can you believe it, toots?!" she giggles, letting off another popper.

✧.* the girl is basically dragging you by the arm out of bed. she's rambling, promising you that she's got loads of fun things planned for you today. lots of presents, adventures to go on, snacks, the like.

✧.* "go get dressed! wear somethin' nice, okay? but not too nice!" she giggles. it's likely some sort of implication of explosions to come during the day. as soon as you've gotten dressed and ready for the day ahead of you, jinx's fingers are intertwining with yours, and she's leading you out of her hideout.

✧.* your first stop is the lanes, which jinx has taken care to decorate thoroughly before your arrival. you've seen the lanes several times before, but the walls are now tagged with your name, your initial and jinx's in hearts, crude stick-figure drawings of the two of you, and jinx's signature monkeys. all throughout the lanes, a constant reminder of you. at the end of one of the alleys, jinx has made a clear attempt at painting confetti and a cake, though the paint had run in several spots. she must've been particularly excited when doing that.

✧.* "baby, this is-" "awesome? wonderful? amazing? perfect?" she interrupts, giggling as she throws her arms around your shoulders from behind. "i worked reaaaaal hard on it, y'know!" punctuating her words with a swift kiss to your lips. but of course, that isn't all. it never is with jinx.

✧.* she makes it a point to let anyone who passes by in the alleys know that it’s your birthday, and that artwork is for you. “all for my girlfriend! birthday girl! pretty, ain’t it?”

✧.* your next stop is an old warehouse, where jinx used to scramble for scraps and spare parts for weapons. but she's decorated it to be a sort of... shooting range. there's targets, cases of ammo, and a spare revolver on a table, as well as spray-painted arrows pointing to the targets. though you were a bit reluctant at first, jinx swore it'd be fun- just a little something to let loose.

✧.* she holds your hands from behind, guiding your finger to the trigger and helping adjust your aim. "a little to the left- yes, like that!" she giggles. her chin is resting on your shoulder, watching your every move. "and... fire!"

✧.* you end up liking it a lot more than you'd thought. it's wild, it's reckless, but it's so jinx. despite everything, some simple target practice does help you let off some steam from long days spent working or studying.

✧.* "let's try moving targets next time! or living ones." "absolutely not."

✧.* your final stop is jinx's hideout. she sits you down at a wobbly table and tells you to close your eyes, a wide smile on her face. you're sat for a few minutes and your mind begins to wander to what the hell is taking her so long, but it's then she places something in front of you. "okay, open!"

✧.* a... cake? something that's leaning to one side with messy frosting, scratchy words reading 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY'. sprinkles are unevenly spread on it, but she pushes it towards you.

✧.* "i made this, just for you! come on, try it!"

✧.* you're a bit apprehensive at first, but you cut a slice regardless. as odd as it looks, it actually tastes really, really good. jinx is watching the whole time with a smug grin. you don't even need to say anything for your girlfriend's ego to balloon.

✧.* wouldn’t eat any right away, but would insist on kissing you for a taste test. those big magenta eyes looking at you so sweetly, yet it’s almost amusing. “come on, just a little taste test,” she whines, before you roll your eyes and connect your lips with hers.

✧.* she’d made you a bouquet of flowers from welded metal, as well as a heart-shaped trinket box with both of your initials carved into it. it’s got pink and blue doodles painted all over it, and something already inside of it- a silver locket! one side holds a stick figure drawing of you, and the other of her.

✧.* jinx’s gifts are always handmade, and always so personal. she knows exactly what you like, and you’re able to see that especially on occasions like your birthday.

✧.* jinx also made a card for you, which reads, “i don’t know how to write these, honestly. words aren’t my strong suit. but i’m happy to have you, and i’m happy that i get to celebrate with you. thanks for being an awesome girlfriend, i love you!

-J!”

vi;

✧.* vi would be soooo so attentive during your entire birthday. you’re the most important thing in vi’s life, without a doubt. she wants to show that to you the best she can.

✧.* she won’t wake you up, but vi knows your sleeping schedule well enough to be able to get a good guess of when you will wake up. therefore, she prepares breakfast in bed for you!

✧.* “rise and shine, cupcake,” she hums, soft lips brushing against your temple. “made something to start your day right.”

✧.* and it’s good. you insist that vi didn’t have to do this for you, but she counters by saying that she wanted to. it’s your birthday, after all. can’t she treat you?

✧.* vi takes you to a cafe on the outskirts of piltover, one she’d found while just walking around the city and exploring. it’s a quaint place, a hidden gem of sorts. she lets you get anything you’d like on the menu (no matter how expensive), and talks about anything and everything with you over your meal.

✧.* “so. how are you feeling now? any older?” “the same way i felt yesterday,” you quip, before taking another bite. “aw, come on. give me something to work with here.”

✧.* does end up telling the staff that it’s your birthday so you can get some free sweets :)

✧.* vi spoils you anyways, but on your birthday? oh, you’re not doing anything by yourself. she insists on helping you into your coat, opening every door for you, paying for everything (a given), doing any housework that needs done. it’s your birthday, so you’re gonna relax and enjoy yourself. vi will handle the rest.

✧.* and she’s so clingy the entire day! she had an arm slung around your waist while walking you to the cafe. she’s kissing your temples and forehead while you’re having breakfast, she’s lifting you up and spinning you around the second you get dressed for the day and telling you just how beautiful you look.

✧.* “you’re stunning, you know that?” vi hums, before pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of your lips. “you tell me every day,” before turning your head for a proper kiss. “but i love hearing it.”

✧.* once you’re back home, vi presents you with some gifts she’d bought you. she tried to wrap them, but they ended up looking… interesting. so she just put them in a gift bag.

✧.* but you can’t open them before the cake! speaking of the cake, it’s a three-layered cake, your favorite flavor with ‘happy birthday’ in print across the center, as well as your age below it. it’s got a few candles around the edges as well, just to set the scene.

✧.* vi turns out the lights and insists on singing to you. she'll likely also want to take some photos too, just to save the memory.

✧.* "say cheese," she chuckles. her finger is ghosting over the shutter, and vi's smiling ear-to-ear. "just a few pictures, okay?"

✧.* usually the gifts your girlfriend gets you are more on the practical side, but for occasions like this, they're the typical, sappy things. she's gotten you a few hair pins she saw you eyeing while out window shopping, candles for your shared home, and the kicker is the matching bracelets. they're made out of bound leather, but the thing that sticks out to you is the fact that yours has a V engraved into it, and hers has your initial.

✧.* they likely came from a crafter in the undercity, someone who clearly knew what they were doing from how carefully made they are.

✧.* "well.. do you like it?" vi asks. she's already slipping her own onto her wrist, before taking yours and offering it up. "i love it," you affirm. you lift your arm to allow vi to put it on you, smiling all the way.

✧.* vi's card is simple, handmade, and heartfelt. it's on simple white cardstock with hearts and a cake drawn on the front- the inside reading, "it's your birthday! wow. that's kind of hard to believe, isn't it? another year spent by your side, getting to see you kick ass and do great things every day. i feel like the luckiest girl alive to be able to call you mine. i hope we get lots more birthdays together. i love you lots cupcake, happy birthday!

-vi ♡"

mel;

✧.* mel has had your birthday celebration planned for months.

✧.* if there is anything mel can do, it's celebrate. it's plan a party, one that'll keep people talking for weeks, maybe even months to come.

✧.* however, she doesn't want anything too extravagant or over-the-top for your birthday. as much as she'd like to shout from the rooftops piltover that it's her darling's birthday, she also wants to be able to have a more intimate celebration with you.

✧.* that morning starts with you being woken up to the feeling of mel’s lips, peppering kisses across your face. you erupt into a fit of sleepy giggles, wrapping your arms around your girlfriend’s waist.

✧.* “happy birthday, love,” she whispers, continuing her assault of kisses. “do you feel any different?” “mm, no… the same as yesterday.”

✧.* of course she’s already made breakfast for you. who do you think she is? and she knows your favorites by heart, so it’s a tried-and-true breakfast.

✧.* before the party she’s organized starts, mel takes you to some of the local street vendors and shops to see if there’s anything you’d like. even if you don’t necessarily ask for it. if she sees your gaze linger on a certain bracelet for more than a few seconds, she’s already talking to the shopkeeper to buy it. if you point out a hair pin you like, she’s already got it.

✧.* “oh, that’s cute,” you point out, lingering on a pin adorned with crystals. just a passing comment, and you likely won’t buy it. “it’s yours, then.” “huh? mel-”

✧.* she whisks you away to your party. she’d been rather secretive about the whole operation- you know that you’re having a party, and it’s at a small yet expensive venue in the heart of piltover. that’s all mel will let you know. so once you’re inside and greeted by glass chandeliers, gold trim in every corner, one of the biggest pastry arrangements you’ve ever seen and nearly every friend or family member in the area, it comes as a shock.

✧.* mel’s outdone herself, yet again. “all of this… for me?” mel lets out a low chuckle, and snakes her arms around you from behind. resting her chin on your shoulder. “anything for you, and more.”

✧.* mel watches as you ease into conversation with guests. catching up with family, friends, old colleagues with a gentle smile on your face. it does wonders for her, to be able to see you with other loved ones- all while celebrating your special day.

✧.* when it comes time to bring out the cake and gifts, a cake is wheeled out from a kitchen. multiple layers with intricate writing and edible flowers on the top, clearly made by one of the best bakers in piltover. someone mel no doubt has connections to.

✧.* the cake reads, ‘happy birthday, y/n!’ in neat script, wrapping across the middle layer.

✧.* mel watches closely while you open cards and gifts from other guests, but she insists that you open hers last, reason unknown.

✧.* once you do get to her gift, you notice that it’s… small. really, really small. in a white velvet box, but bigger than a ring box. you look up at her, an eyebrow quirked in hopes of some kind of hint. “just open it, love,” she hums, pointing her chin back to the box.

✧.* you open the gift, increasingly curious as to what she could’ve possibly gotten for you- but it’s greater than anything you could’ve expected. a custom-made bracelet, made to resemble mel’s own ring. a symbol of the medardas, a symbol of commitment. not a ring, not a promise quite yet, but something just for you. just for mel’s lover.

✧.* tears prick at the corner of your eyes, and all you can notice is your girlfriend’s smile growing wider. “do you like it?” she asks, taking your hand in hers and going to clasp the bracelet on your wrist. “mel, this is… too much, really.” you gasp. the bracelet is nothing short of beautiful, even more so on your wrist. “nonsense. it’s perfect.”

✧.* her card is on black paper, trimmed with gold leaf and the message inside is written in white ink. “your birthday, one of the days i look forward to the most. it’s hard to believe another year has passed, isn’t it? you grow more every year, as does my love for you. i hope that this birthday is a good one. i love you always.

-mel medarda.”

sevika;

✧.* sevika is almost always up early. her job is one that requires her presence at all hours of the day, even when the rest of zaun is asleep (for the most part, at least). but on your birthday, sevika sleeps in. she stays in bed with you, one arm draped around your waist while nestling her face into the crook of your neck.

✧.* sevika wakes you up shortly after you do, beginning to stir when she notices your drowsy movements. “mm… mornin’, sev,” you whisper, a hand coming to thread through her hair. “mornin’, birthday girl,” she mutters.

✧.* of course sevika insists on making you breakfast, so she’s up within minutes in the kitchen. nothing fancy necessarily, but watching her from the kitchen table, swiftly moving and humming to herself in a state nobody else could ever hope to see sevika in… it’s priceless.

✧.* she doesn't have anything necessarily fancy planned in the way of celebrations, but sevika still makes sure you have the best birthday possible. she tells you to go put on something nice, she's taking you out.

✧.* she takes you to a relatively new restaurant in zaun, one that's already gotten raving reviews from critics. it's a bit out of the way, and neither of you have been before, but the woman is trusting the public opinion on this one.

✧.* and sevika was right to trust the public. it's a damn good place, one that's up to your tastes. she can see the way your demeanor changes the moment you step in the door, curious eyes taking in the dim lighting and fresh aromas. it's nothing luxurious, but you wouldn't want that. it's cozy. it's perfect for the occasion,

✧.* "so," sevika hums, placing her menu down. "what d'ya think of the place?" "it's nice. really nice," you reach out for one of her hands, a light smile playing on your face. "how'd you find it?" "i have my ways, dove."

✧.* the food arrives, and it's some of the best you've had in zaun. sevika sees your face, hears your pleased noises, and knows she's done something right. and of course she gets pastries for you at the end, even though she's already got a cake at home for you.

✧.* your next stop is a river, one in the outskirts of zaun. untainted nature is a rare thing to come by in the undercity, but it still has its spots of quiet beauty. she sits in the slightly gray grass with you, watching the water ripple with the wind. holding you against her shoulder and rubbing her prosthetic hand over your arm.

✧.* "makes you think, doesn't it?" you whisper. your gaze is fixed on the scene before you: the sun's rays catching on the water, the little critters surrounding it, the few flowers that bloom close to land. "about what?" "just... everything. it's my birthday, and things suck, but this is nice. a little pocket away from everything else."

✧.* sevika makes a mental note to bring you to spots like this more often.

✧.* once you're back home, sevika sits you down at the kitchen table and presents you with a cake and gift. sevika is far from a baker, she can cook well enough. but baking is mostly uncharted territory for the woman, so the cake has an... interesting appearance. regardless, she did her best, even if the frosting is uneven and the writing on top got a little smudged.

✧.* it's a simple two-layer cake, with 'happy birthday, y/n' written across the top in sevika's neat handwriting.

✧.* but it's actually pretty good! you're a bit skeptical, though you feel bad judging only by appearance. you take the first bite, then glance up at sevika and give her a swift nod. she's surprised you today in several ways.

✧.* "don't even say anything." sevika chuckles. "not much to look at, but it's good, yeah?"

✧.* the gift she's gotten you is wrapped in brown parchment paper, with your name written across the front in black pen. inside, though, is a small photo album. mostly compiled of candid photos, a few of the two of you posed together (despite sevika's camera shyness), and a few of destinations you've been together. likely taken on the disposable camera you've seen her carry around, the same one she tells you not to worry about. now it makes sense.

✧.* it's simple, but it's so intimate and heartfelt. "sevika.. you took all of these? made this, for me?" the woman's gaze softens further, and you can see her lips start to tug into a smile. "of course i did. i've spent janna knows how long taking all these pictures..." before she's cut off by you throwing your arms around her neck, nearly lunging at her.

✧.* her card is written on simple white paper, with just your name written across the front and a message inside. "i'm not good with words, i never have been. but i hope that i'm able to spend a lot more years with you. you make things a lot more worthwhile, and i'm lucky to have you by my side. happy birthday, dove. i love you.

-sevika."

caitlyn;

✧.* caitlyn has everything very carefully planned. not necessarily a party or any kind of grand celebrations, but a day for just the two of you. where she can show you her love and appreciation in the most unabashed ways.

✧.* you're woken up to the smell of breakfast on the bedside table, but caitlyn isn't there. the mattress still has an imprint from where she laid not long before, but she's not anywhere to be seen.

✧.* you wander out of the bedroom. a fist coming to rub at your eyes in your drowsy state, only focused on finding your girlfriend. it's then that your eyes land on a tall figure, moving about the kitchen like it's the most natural thing in the world.

✧.* "cait...?" you approach her slowly, your movements still sluggish. "what are you doing out of bed?" "preparations for later, darling." she says. the woman doesn't turn around, not yet, but her voice is calm and reassuring all the same. judging from the sweet scent in the air, she's making some last-minute pastries for your birthday. you decide to leave it alone.

✧.* the first half of breakfast, you're by yourself. but it isn't a bad kind of solidarity, rather peaceful while your girlfriend makes the finishing touches for your special day. you hear the oven click off, and within seconds, caitlyn is beside you. brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, her lips brushing your temple ever so gently.

✧.* "my apologies," she whispers, moving to press another kiss over your cheekbone. "i might've overestimated my workload. it's settled now."

✧.* your first stop is a bakery settled in the heart of piltover, one commonly titled one of piltover's 'hidden gems.' luxury pastries of all sorts, the atmosphere inside is warm and inviting. something akin to what would be in a storybook or travel magazine, but it's real.

✧.* "whatever you want, love." cait told you. she stands back, watching you marvel at the glass cases at the front and over the printed menus. macarons, ice cream, gelato, cakes, cupcakes, cookies, mini pies, the whole lot of it. all at your disposal.

✧.* you only end up picking a few things, not nearly all that you've had your eye on. you know on your birthday, your girlfriend would buy out the entire bakery if you asked her to, but you won't. this'll suffice.

✧.* your next stop is a restaurant, nestled by a river with a window seat right next to it. candles sit atop the tables, the low rumble of chatter from other patrons filling the restaurant. it's not necessarily uptight or fancy, but it's nice. clearly a place that's sought after.

✧.* "you've outdone yourself, cait," you mutter between bites. the food is hearty and damn savory, something you probably wouldn't been able to find yourself. "i did what i had to," she chuckles. her hands are tented in front of her on the table, having already finished her meal. "can't let my special girl have anything less than perfect on her special day, can i?"

✧.* once you arrive back at the woman's estate, you see an array of gifts, a bouquet, and a cake on the kitchen island for you. a multi-layered cake with edible decorations that reads 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY,' several carefully-wrapped gifts of varying sizes.

✧.* "oh, baby, you didn't have to..." you can barely even say the words. it's all so much. caitlyn cuts you off with a swift, yet still tender kiss to your lips. "shh. i wanted to. you're worth it all."

✧.* your cake has several cupcakes and cake pops accompanying it, seemingly what the woman was working so diligently at that morning.

✧.* the first gift is a carefully wrapped candle, one of the ones caitlyn keeps in her room. you'd told her once during the beginning of your relationship that you liked the smell of it, and it seems that she's remembered.

✧.* the second and third are both pieces of jewelry, one a simple silver charm bracelet that cait tells you will have more charms the more memories you make together. the other, a short silver chain with a sapphire pendant, one that perfectly matches caitlyn's hair color.

✧.* the final, a bigger box with a satin bow on top. your heart pounds in your chest while opening it. you have no idea what to expect, but knowing caitlyn, it's gotta be good. you weren't sure what you were expecting, but definitely wasn't a heavy scrapbook.

✧.* you didn't even know caitlyn was into this kind of thing. when would she even have the time to scrapbook? regardless, you open the cover, decorated with a photo of both of you and your name written underneath- and tucked neatly beneath it is your card.

✧.* "i hope that you like this. i spent a lot of time making this book, but it has everything- our first few dates, my thoughts, candids, mementos. all that's important to you, to me, and to us. something to celebrate another year of having and loving you. happy birthday, darling.

-caitlyn."

[spiderb00]

- FAM OUT - DREAM LIFE

The barking of the dogs awakened Sophia from her perfect world. The Filipina was cooking, she loved doing it after a busy day, and with the house to herself, the peace she felt was what she needed to end the day. As soon as she put the platter in the oven, Sophia heard little footsteps running towards where she was, and then she could finally see the little copies of her running around the house.

"MOM!" Bending down to be at the height of the twins, Sophia opened her arms, being greeted by a slight impact when the two four-year-old twins hugged her.

"Mom, Mommy Yn took us to the playground, and let us play a lot of hours." Samantha, the older twin – only for twelve minutes – said, emphasizing her words by moving her hands.

"And then she took us out for ice cream!" Denver, the younger twin said, covering his mouth with his little hands when he realized what he said.

"Dev! You weren't supposed to tell that part!" Sam said, stomping her foot on the floor and making an angry face that looked a lot like Sophia's.

"No, it's okay, my loves. I don't like it when you eat dessert before dinner, but I'll talk to your mom about it. Now go upstairs and I'll go upstairs to give you a bath, you little dirt." Sophia said, tickling the two children, who ran away screaming and running upstairs.

Seeing the twins' rush, you entered the kitchen, two backpacks in your hands and two stuffed monkeys hanging from your shoulders. As much as Sophia thinks it's great to see you in super sexy mom mode, she knows she has to scold you for giving the twins ice cream ahead of time.

"So, are kisses just for them? Or do I have one too?" Leaning in to give your wife a kiss, you missed the aim, making the kiss fall on Sophia's cheek, as she turned her face in the opposite direction.

"Not really, no kisses for mothers who do not comply with the other mother's orders." Sophia said, looking at you with that face you knew well, the one that gave you chills.

Already knowing that the twins would probably have snitched on you, you decided to go for the foolproof plan, puppy eyes. You knew you shouldn't give the twins ice cream, but they were so cute telling you the list of reasons why you should buy them ice cream.

"Baby, I'm sorry. But they were so cute with those little faces, I couldn't resist." You said, grabbing your wife's waist and making her look at you.

"You have to be tougher on them, Yn." Sophia said, putting her hands on the back of your neck.

"Sorry…" You said, kissing the Filipina on the cheek and hoping that would get you out of the punishment.

"All right." Sophia said, still with a warning look on her face. "But next time you don't escape me."

Shaking your head and with a smile on your face, you kissed Sophia. Your lips fitting perfectly and your tongues fighting for the dominance of the kiss. With one swift movement, you picked Sophia in your lap, placing her on the counter. Feeling your kisses on her neck, Sophia moaned lightly, covering her mouth with one hand so as not to make too much noise.

"Sophia." You called, as you went down your kisses around her neck.

"Say it, baby."

"Sophia." Stopping the kisses, Sophia looked into your eyes, only to see the smile on your face, before you whispered again. "Wake up!" Stunned, Sophia woke up in a jump, seeing you standing next to her on the bed. Looking at the clock on the bedside table, Sophia narrowed her eyes, the digital clock reading 02:34 in the morning.

"Baby, we have a problem."

Continues…

Hello guys, are you okay?

as I said, I really miss Fam out, so I decided to release a preview of what's to come.

This kind of happens in one of the chapters of Fam Out, which I'm still going to release, but I wanted to give you this background.

Any idea of what will happen ahead?

Stay safe and drink water

fam out masterlist

Xoxo, spider

[wileys-russo]

just like mummy II l.williamson

in the same universe as legacy and little golfer

"mila! mil? mila?" leah called out with a frown, poking her head in each room with a frown that deepened each time she didn't find her daughter.

"okay bubba this isn't funny we need to leave soon!" leah's voice wavered as she ducked down, checking under the beds with a huff as again she came up empty.

"mila? mummy isn't joking we really need to leave!" leahs chest tightened a little as she went room to room hunting for the four year old.

normally you took charge when it came to getting your daughter ready of a morning before training, but considering today was pre season media day you'd had meetings set earlier than leahs so you'd already left before the four year old was up.

normally mila was the very first awake of the three of you but last night she'd been particularly stubborn about refusing to go to bed which leah had promised to take care of after almost two hours of trying to get her settled, practically locking you in the bathroom to shower.

when you'd finished you'd found them both curled up on the lounge in front of the tv, passed out together with a rerun of the euros playing on the large screen.

so with a much later bedtime than normal she'd actually slept in to the point leahs alarm had gone off and she was stunned to be alone in bed, expecting a four year old lump curled up on the end of her bed as usual like a cat.

"ready!" the blonde almost jumped out of her skin as tiny footsteps sounded behind her.

"i look like you! wanted to match today." the girl grinned, one of leahs arsenal kits hanging down on her like a dress and her feet drowned in a pair of football boots and socks which continued to fall down.

"stay up!" the smaller blonde huffed yanking at them with a scowl which if you'd been there you'd have commented was near identical to leahs own.

"oh mila." leah chuckled, relief flooding her body replaced quickly with amusement. "you have boots! lets go find them you monkey." the blonde laughed, scooping up her daughter and tossing her over her shoulder.

~

"mama!" you looked away from the interviewer at the familiar scream, hiding a laugh at the way your wife grabbed the back of your daughters top trying to restrain her, other hand barely holding together her own bag as well as mila's, lia hurrying over to lend a hand.

"thats us pretty much done anyway." the interviewer smiled kindly, nodding for you to go as you thanked them and shook hands, standing up and heading over to where a small riot had taken place as mila's aunties all fought over who got a hug first.

"excuse me i think i take priority." you called out over the squabbling, leah almost taken to the floor by the force in which your daughter pulled to get to you, letting go and catching her footing as a small body slammed into your legs.

"mama you weren't there when i woke up." mila frowned as you smiled and smoothed her creased eyebrows out with your thumb, squatted down to be at her level.

"i know, but remember i told you i had to come to work early? to take pictures." you poked her stomach a few times eliciting a giggle. "oh yeah. hey look! i match mummy." mila perked back up, taking a step back and doing a spin.

"you didn't want to match me?" you gasped in mock offence, mila shaking her head with a cheeky smile and running back to leah before you could grab her.

"no i'm mummys little gunner."

~

it was around an hour later when the day took a turn, mila having been passed around between your teammates as you and leah fulfilled your interviews and commitments.

you were doing a few tiktoks with laia for barclays when you were interrupted by your best friend, whispering something to one of the producers who frowned but nodded.

"williamson, you're needed. can someone go find pelova to take her place please?"

confused you stepped aside, alessia grabbing your hand without another word and tugging you away. "where are we going?" you questioned with a frown. "we have a problem." the blonde sighed, refusing to elaborate much more as she pulled you out of the main room.

"wait is it mila? is she hurt? sick? do we need an ambulance?" you began to panic as you were pulled toward the change rooms. "yes, no, no, not yet." alessia answered which didn't help ease your anxiety.

"not yet!" you exclaimed though as the taller girl pulled you into the change rooms and you saw the sight in front of you, suddenly things all made sense.

"oh my god."

"just like mummy!" mila cheered, sat on the bench on lia's lap with a horrendously self cut attempt at a fringe, safety scissors confiscated and a very guilty looking kyra hovering about nearby.

"what. happened." you exhaled unable to drag your gaze away from your daughters new haircut.

"she was with kyra and i and we were colouring. then she asked for some scissors and we assumed she was going to cut out the picture from her book to show you and leah and well we looked away for like one minute and..." lia began to explain, trailing off gesturing to mila's forehead and her new 'bangs'.

"mila.." you exhaled, dragging your hands down your face as alessia rubbed your back gently. "mummy got a hair cut, so i got a hair cut." the four year old beamed clearly very proud of herself.

"has leah seen-" "nope."

though you may have jinxed it as footsteps sounded and the woman i question arrived, mila's bag in hand ready to tell the pair of you that you were all free to head to lunch.

"leah. it was an accident love, breathe." you grabbed your wifes arms watching her face change as she took in mila's haircut and the scissors sitting idly by, mouth opening and closing as she looked around the room.

"kyra. we need to go outside...for a little chat." leah warned, voice calm and face anything but as she didn't even wait for someone to explain before deciding who she was blaming for this.

"leah-" the girl couldn't even get a word out before she sprinted off, your wife quick to follow her as mila just giggled and you sighed, alessia's hand coming to sit on her shoulder.

"now i think we might need that ambulance."

[betsj]

monkey d. luffy x reader

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

late nights with luffy could go many ways… one he don’t want to sleep, two he’s hungry and has to eat all night, three he wants another adventure, four he’s in a sexy mood… the list goes on!

but tonight was different… after being together for almost a year, he wasn’t any of those things that were listed.

shutting the door behind you and raising an eyebrow seeing luffy standing up, back facing you at the end of the bed. softly saying, “i would’ve assumed you’d be asleep by now?”

turning around and smiling once he realized you’ve finally made it to y’all shared room, “nope! i have something to show you!” being a little frightened… luffy was always different on the things he wanted to show you. of course, you never hated any of it! it was just a bit of a anxiety rush. mumbling, “okay?” as he grabbed your hand and ran out onto the deck.

the dark sky was littered with little white dots, the stars never leave you at night. you liked to imagine they were the crew…

as y’all walked up the steps to the front of the sunny. you saw a blanket placed out and a bunch of snacks and meals. you’re heart squeezed from how much you loved this man…

“is this for… us?” looking up, feeling his hand lay on your lower back. nodding and smiling, “yup!” looking back at the spot and walking over, sitting down and watching as he got settled too.

“this is for our one year anniversary!”

placing your hand on your heart, “awh… luffy, thank you.”

as y’all chat and eat with laughs. you began to realize he was anxious about something (very off-brand for luffy)… rocking back and forth, biting his cheek and looking away without working. so finally you placed a piece of bread down and asked, “are you okay?”

he hummed, “hm? yes, of course i am!” slowly, you crawled to him and sat directly in front of him. “you can tell me anything, luffy.” he gulped and looked away. sighing and smiling, turning his head towards you with your hand, rubbing your thumb over his cheek. “luffy, what’s bothering you?”

a faint pink covered his cheeks. he took a long inhale and exhale. digging in the pockets of his shorts, sticking his tongue out in the process… raising your eyebrow, moving your hand as he made a small ‘ah ha!’

scooting back and gasping when he brought out a small black box.

was he proposing already?!

what do you say?!

are you ready for this kind of commitment?! i mean, you love him, of course! but marriage!?

“calm down, it’s not ring.”

almost like he could read your mind… chuckling and scratching the back of your neck… clearing your throat, “anyways! then what is it?”

he laughed and opened it while saying, “nami thought you’d really like… well, i asked her about it so it was basically my idea!” once the box was fully open… you covered your mouth.

it was the most beautiful, silver necklace you have ever seen in your life. it had two hearts latched onto each other…

“oh luffy, it’s gorgeous.”

“really? thank god, i was scared you wouldn’t!” giggling and not holding back, you jumped onto him. “woah!”

laying your forehead into his neck, “thank you.”

he quickly clipped the necklace on you and after, hugged your waist. “your welcome!”

[bimb0fy]

perfect girlfriend; monkey d luffy

pairings; monkey d luffy x shank!reader

warning(s); mentions of scars, kinda suggestive at the end.

summary; luffy always had your name in his mouth, his girlfriend this! his girlfriend that! the crew never knew if you had actually existed considering the fact that your name didn't ring any bells or that well, they haven't met you yet. when luffy proposed a visit they all agreed to put an end to this little charade.

word count: 1,071 words

ᵐᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡⁱˢᵗ!! | ⁿᵃᵛⁱᵍᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ!!

— Luffy smiled as he ran over the deck, perfecting everything that looked slightly unpleasing. He hadn't seen you in months, going back to his old village meant seeing you again and he wanted it to be perfect. You both kept in touch by sending letters and after a while, ended up buying phones to reach each other faster.

Nami sat on a crate, her legs crossed as Sanji and Zoro stood beside her. Ussop was attempting to stop Luffy from falling overboard. She looked over at the two boys who rolled their eyes. "Not one bit huh?" Nami asked the two who nodded.

Sanji had faith in the beginning, believing the boy since well, he has a heart of gold, but after a while of hearing stories that sound like tales out of a naive boys mouth is well, unbelievable. Yes, it was possible for him to have a girlfriend, yet she can't be great in everything.

She can't be a fantastic with swords and a genius in the medical field, she can't be the best cook, better then Sanji Luffy might say, and have a hand for crafts. Maybe he was simply overcompensating about his love.

"Luffy, the ship looks great, I'm sure your girl will love it." Sanji smiled at the boy as both Nami and Zoro let out stiffled laughs.

"Whats so funny?" Luffy asked the group who looked at eachother. Luffy grew more concerned as he took his hat off, sliding them onto his shoulders.

"It's just that we uh." Nami started as she tried to figure out a way to frame it in a decent way.

"We don't think she exists." Zoro answered as Nami turned to the boy, her eyes wide as he shrugged. "What, it's better then lying."

"Y/n is real, why don't you guys believe me?" Luffy asked the crew who stayed quiet. He looked among them as he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "She's real, shes a pirate too, well, was a pirate."

"Yeah, and a doctor, and a cook, and a writer. She seems perfect, no one is." Zoro looked at the boy who scoffed.

"Well, she is, and look, we're here so you'll see for yourself!" Luffy said as he ran towards the front. Nami sighed as she stopped the ship, Luffy instantly jumping down, running towards a trap door. He opened it, jumping down for the group to follow him.

They were placed in an old basement, filled with materials and a section with belongings. "What is this place, it's so, rusty." Sanji said as he pinched his nose due to the horrid smell of fish guts.

"It's my home, well, was my home." Luffy smiled at the group as he walked over to his old bed, he opened a chest, taking out a satchel with his old belongings before climbing back up. "C'mon, I got my stuff, let's go meet Y/n!"

"Yeah, cause that's totally not stalling." Nami said as she climbed out, helping Zoro up as she ran after the boy who ran towards a bar.

"Luffy! My god we missed you!" The bartender smiled at the boy who hugged her. He turned back to his crew, looking around for another person.

"Hey Makino I got the broom." You said as you entered the room, you looked up to find Luffy who stood in shock. You dropped the broom as you ran towards the boy, jumping at him as he caught you, spinning you around.

You kissed his lips as he smiled, he set you down, wrapping his arms around you as he turned back to his crew who stood shocked. "Wait, she's actually real?" Zoro asked as he turned to Nami. She shrugged as he turned back to you.

"Guys, this is my very real girlfriend, Y/n." Luffy introduced you as you laughed. You waved at the group who waved back, Sanji with a huge grin plastered on his face.

"What a nice young lady you are-." Sanji's sentence was cut off by Luffy who had punched the boy, you covered your mouth before turning back to Luffy who looked serious.

"Luffy!" You yelled as he turned back to you, his expression softening.

"What?" He answered as you fliched his hat, he smiled as he held onto it, kissing your cheek before carrying you up, spinning you around one more time.

"Cmon now, I wanna show you my ship!" Luffy smiled as he held your hand, running towards the dock where the going merry happened to be. He skipped up the ramp as you looked in awe at the ship.

Luffy leaned onto the railings, smiling at the girl who stood on shock. "This is your ship? This is yours?" You asked the boy who nodded. He seemed proud of himself, you knew he had a ship but never expected a huge ship with an actual flag.

"C'mon, I'll show you my room, our room." Luffy smiled at the girl who scrunched her face in confusion. Luffy jumped down, holding your hand as he stared into your eyes. "Y/n, I want you to join my crew, we need someone like you, you know what you're doing, your perfect, your kind and smart."

"I left that life behind." You sighed as he looked away, you could tell her was upset. You hated being apart, he hated it more. Luffy was always an affectionate person, being away from his loved one hurt more then anyone could ever imagine. "I suppose you do need help to find the one piece."

Luffys face brightened up as he looked at you, smiling before carrying you up to the ship. You giggled as he set you down in the Captains quarters. The place was surrounded in pictures and souvenirs from adventures they had gone through. A desk filled with books and paper, probably stories written by him. You turned to the bed that seemed big enough for two people.

"You planned this, didn't you?" You turned to the boy who smiled, raising his eyebrows. You laughed before setting down on the bed. "I'll go get lunch ready?"

"No need, Sanji 'll do it." He smirked as he placed his hands on your waist, you smiled as you looked back at the boy, he traced your scar on your left cheek with his fingertips in such a loving way. "Now, let me show you how much I missed you my love."

[emmcfrxst]

OKAY and what about a happy ending for reader, Logan and Laura??? Like in that one little drabble you wrote her mom!reader somehow resuscitated/healed Logan after he was ‘chest fucked?’ Nobody dies and Mom and Logan get to raise Laura together like normal parents!!!

Cue some happy mommy/daughter headcanons with Logan loving his girls 🩷🩷🩷🩷

the term “chest fucked” made me laugh out loud so thank you for that

one thing you come to learn about laura is that she absolutely LOVES to be the little spoon. she’d never felt particularly cared for (or safe) in her life before she met you and logan, so when you hand her affection on a silver platter she just becomes quite honestly a little obsessed with it. she loves everything about the concept of spooning because it’s easy affection— you can be watching tv or reading in bed with her curled up into your arms, cradling her, and it both makes her feel loved and makes her feel safe because she’s come to associate your touch with pure, unconditional love and support. like i’ve mentioned before, you’ve quite literally began to carry out with the purpose of being her mother, her protector; she knows that no matter what happens, you’ll always, always have her back and that comforts her to no end. she’s very physically affectionate with you, to the point where she feels comfortable initiating physical contact on her own— she knows you won’t refuse or judge her, and she’s been deprived of love for most of her life so having a parent who is willing to hand out love and care like this honestly has made her a little greedy (in a funny, endearing, child-like way. she absolutely adores you and she does not have the words to properly express how much you’ve impacted her life).

affection is a little less easy between logan and laura; they’re both a little awkward with each other— logan because he’s unsure of just how to initiate any kind of physical affection to anyone that isn’t you, and laura because she’s unsure whether or not he would reject her (he wouldn’t. ever. he might grumble about it but it’s just for show. he would never ever dare to reject laura’s affections because he knows just how badly this could affect her; he’s the human embodiment of touch starvation from years of abuse and pain and he’s come to learn just how truly impactful a little love and care can be, that’s something he’s learned from loving you and being loved by you) so the only kind of affection they really partake in at first is through play fighting/bickering. i’ve mentioned this before but laura really brings out the child in logan; he loves to tease her and be playful during their interactions, even if she sometimes gets annoyed with it (it’s the Howlett Poor Anger Management Starter Kit) so he shows his affection through little acts like pinching her cheeks, ruffling her hair or pushing her aside with his hip while they’re helping you out in the kitchen. the playfulness is fully reciprocated, because laura can and will jump on him and basically force him to carry her around the house like a little baby monkey (which is one of the reasons why he affectionately calls her his little monkey, i’ve talked about this specific nickname and the whole carrying thing in the two posts linked in this reply) and the whole frenemies thing they have going on at first really helps them bond and like i’ve said before, also helps two very traumatized people associate touch with something that’s fun, light, and positive. their interactions do end up growing from play fighting/wrestling as a way to express affection to actual, genuine (although tentative) affection in the “usual” way; laura will often rest her head on logan’s arm/shoulder if they’re sitting side by side, and it’s not uncommon for you to see laura’s head resting in logan’s lap while he reads or vice versa— they slowly find something that they’re both comfortable with, and it always makes you a little emotional when you think of how far they’ve come in not only their personal journeys, but also in their shared one. it’s not over-the-top physical displays of affection, but it’s simple and it’s genuine and that’s really what makes this so beautiful to you. logan probably won’t admit it out loud because he’s not particularly good at voicing his feelings (although he’s been actively trying to be better at it for your and laura’s sake), but there’s nothing in the world that he loves more than having you and laura by his side, both literally and figuratively.

[pick-me-up-im-scared]

Call Me When You Need Me (Ellie Williams x Reader) (Fluff)

Short Summary: When your best friend Ellie has problem sleeping you come over to help her. Like you always do!

Author´s Note: Another random idea I got that I thought would be waaay shorter. It´s not that long, but it's longER than I planned to. Istg, the universe wants me to write +5k fanfics. Everythime I come up with an idea for a blur (cause they're way quicker to write) I end up adding so much to it you can't even call it that. Anyway, hope you'll enjoy just a super cute little story! (I'm the person who tries to fill the "ellie x reader"-tag with stuff that isn't smut. Like I didn't just post two smuts right after each other a week ago.................)

Also! Ellie lives in the same house as Joel in this. Even though I'm well aware she has her own "hut" in the game

Words: 1473

(Pictures aren´t mine! I found them on Pinterest)

The empty streets felt oddly peaceful as you wandered down the oh, so familiar road. Only the streetlights lighting up your path as your sleepy feet stumbled on the sidewalk. It wasn’t unusual to find you walking down these streets at 3 am. You found yourself in this situation a little too often. Not that you complain! When your best friend needs you, she needs you. The crispy night air forced you to cross your arms in order to keep some warmth. Despite being near fall you decided to skip out on a jacket and just go with your outwashed hoodie. Big mistake. But it’s not that bad. Though you’d lie if you´d say you didn’t miss your warm, cozy bed. Just the thought was enough to put a drowsy smile on your face. You continued to kick rocks you stumbled upon on the sidewalk as you, trying to not hit any of the parked cars beside you, cause you know.......karma. Soon you noticed the familiar fence you helped painting white one summer. By the looks of it, it could use a little touch-up. Getting onto the lawn you quickly made your way to the back. The house was completely pitch black apart from one single window on the right corner.

You walked over to the corner of the porch, making sure to sneak a few glances through the dark windows, just to make sure Joel wasn’t up to grab a glass of water or something. But you’re just met with your own reflection in the surprisingly clean windows. You jumped up on the fence that tastefully decorated the porch to reach the edge of the roof. You took a sturdy grip around the aged wood before pushing yourself up the brick plated surface. This was nothing new to you. It was more of a routine. Getting called over to your friends house at least five times a week you kinda start to come up with a few tricks to make your arrival more smooth. Why are you climbing the house like you're a fucking monkey? you may as. The first time Ellie called me over you both thought Joel would be pissed if he knew. So you came up with the brilliant idea, with your life at risk, to climb up from the back. Yes, Ellie tired to prevent you from doing it, but you're too stubborn. She knows that damn well. And yes, you're pretty sure you've got a six-pack from all the times you've pushed your whole body onto the porch roof. But by the morning neither of you considered Joel's daily visit. So when he came to tell Ellie it's breakfast he was sure surprised to see you laying there, holding her. But he wasn't mad.....not at all. And when it was time for you to leave he made sure to throw out "You can take the door next time!". Despite that you continued to take your not-so-convenient way into Ellie's room. You saw it more as a fun thing, and you like to believe Ellie enjoys to too. Even thought she mumbled a "You're so dumb" before giving you a welcome hug.

You carfully got up from your crunched up position, being careful not to strainght out your back too much or you'll probably fall down and break your neck. At this height you could outline more details in the only lit up room, as if you didn’t know it by memory. You noticed the small crack Ellie always made sure to leave every night incase she got the urge that’s currently the reason you’re here. She didn’t want to have to get up and open it when you got there. Also, she’s been very clear that you can come over whenever you feel like it. Day as night. You used your finger to loop around the thick glass and push it up enough to give you the opportunity to get a better grip. You slid the glass into the slit, just enough to squeeze yourself through. The noice made Ellie quickly turn her head from her position on her bed. Just the look of you made her smile. "You came!" she happily exclaimed. You giggled "Of course! You said you had problem sleeping”.

Your beaten up sneakers barely got to touch the floor before Ellie threw herself at you, slamming you into the nearby wall. She continued to hug you, tighten up her grip. You chuckled, "Hey, hey! You shouldn't try to mush me like ground beef. Who´s gonna keep you company then?". Ellie let go off you and took a step back, giving you the chance to get away from the wall. "I'm sure you can take it" she snarky remarked "Weren't you the one who's got a six-pack" she sarcastically asked while slapping her hand against your clothed stomach. "Ow!" you screaked while backing way from her hand. Ellie just chucked before making her way back to her bed, signaling you to take place beside her. You let the strap of your backpack slide down your arms before leaving it by the end of Ellie's bed, to then quickly kick off your lazy tied shoes before crawling up the comfy bed.

You let out a deep sigh as your back hit the mattress, "I´ve told you to just call me whenever you need me". "I know" Ellie mumbled before looking to the side, "But you deserve to sleep too". "I never sleep as good as I do in your bed" you reassured her as. She smiled a little, but she wasn't convinced. She's tried to fall asleep by herself when she has one of these...nights, but it's impossible! There's been times where she hasn't called you even thought she should have. Just cause she feels bad for forcing you out of bed. She never told you this or you'd kill her. She's lost count of all the times you've told her to just call you when she feels down or can't sleep.

You place your hands behind your head, looking up at the glow-in-the-dark stickers Ellie swore she'd get rid off, but hasn't "had the time to". But you swore she was lying. She's always been such a bad liar. But you think it's adorable, so you don´t mind. "I swear I'm getting us a house someday. That way you wouldn't have to call me whenever you have problem sleeping", Ellie smirked at you. "Yeah?" she asked while shooting herself closer to your laying from. "Yep! Then you could just come over to my room" you frowned a little "Or we might share the same bedroom...". You shrug "Or I mean, we're sleeping in the same bed now, so we could save a lot of money if we just get one". Ellie smiled at the thought but soon her face fell a little "How would that work when you bring a girl over?". You shot your head to give her a confused face "What the fuck, Ellie?" you grabbed a pillow from behind you to hit her playfully "I don´t even bring that many girls over!". "Suuure" Ellie playfully rolled her eyes while wearing that shit-eating grin.

You huffed before pushing her back against the bed so you could straddle her. Ellie had to stop herself from blushing at the sudden contact, but she's pretty sure you'd still notice if you weren't busy continuing hitting her with the pillow. You giggle "You play me out to be some type of slut!". She just shrugged "Maybe you are". You huffed once more, louder this time, before getting off Ellie's lap with a defeated look. "Fuck you, Ellie" you mumbled before throwing the pillow at her. She just laughs as she catches it and put it back to its original place. "Should we get to bed now? You know, the reason I'm here?". "Oh!" Ellie quickly adjusted herself "Yeah, that'd be nice". You grabbed the cover that was messily tossed to the side and placed it over you to. "You want me to read you a bed time story?". Ellie laughed "Fuck you, (y/n)". You smirked as you reached over her to turn off the lamp on her beside table. The feeling of your body being pressed against her made it hard for Ellie to focus, but thank god you soon got back to your previous position behind her.

You wrapped your arms around her frame before pulling her into your embrace. Transferring your warmth onto her. “You don’t have to come here every time, you know?” Ellie clarified. “No, I know” you answered “But I want to” you added before burring your face in the nape of her neck, automatically squeeze her torso a little tighter. Ellie couldn’t help but release a relaxed sigh, finally at peace.

[despazito]

Two little monkeys jumping on the bed

[princesskenny1998]

One Piece | Monkey D. Luffy x f!strawhat!reader ~ Neck

I mean, you know that one scene? That gif where he drinks? Okay, hear me out—

You and Luffy had been together for a while now, and if there was one thing everyone on the ship knew about you, it was how you couldn’t keep your hands—or lips—off Luffy’s neck. It was almost instinctual at this point; you were drawn to that part of him like a magnet, finding his neck and throat irresistible. There was something about the strong curve of his neck, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed when he spoke or laughed, that made your heart race. You couldn't get enough of the feeling of his warm skin against your lips or the way he reacted to your touch.

On nights when the sea was calm and the ship rocked gently, you loved to snuggle up against Luffy in your shared bed. The comforting sway of the ship was always the perfect lullaby, but what truly made you feel at home was resting your head against the crook of Luffy’s neck and shoulder. His skin was always warm like sunshine, slightly salty from the sea breeze, and it just felt right to be so close to him. You would bury your face against his neck, nuzzling the spot gently while he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer. He would always let out a little contented sigh when you snuggled up that way, the vibrations of his voice soft and comforting against your cheek.

Sometimes, when you were feeling particularly affectionate, you’d press your lips softly to the side of his neck, trailing kisses along the sensitive skin. It was one of your favorite things to do—watching Luffy’s playful, carefree expression change to something more vulnerable and aware. You’d feel his body shiver lightly, and he would often let out a chuckle, the kind that made you feel warm from head to toe.

“Ah! That tickles!” he’d say, squirming a little and trying to shift away while you laughed against his skin, refusing to let him go. His reaction made it all the more fun.

“Luffy,” you’d tease, brushing your lips against his ear, your fingers lightly stroking the back of his neck, “hold still for once.”

“B-but it tickles!” he’d protest, his voice catching between giggles. He was so ticklish in that spot that even the lightest touch would make him squirm and fidget. Yet, despite his playful struggles, he never pulled away completely. It was like he was caught between his natural instinct to move and his desire to be close to you.

One lazy afternoon, the two of you were alone on the deck. The sea was calm, and the sun was warm, casting golden rays over the ship. Most of the crew was either napping or below deck, leaving you and Luffy to enjoy a rare, peaceful moment together. He was sitting with his back against the mast, his straw hat tipped over his face as he rested. You were curled up against his side, your head comfortably nestled against his neck.

Feeling mischievous, you leaned in and kissed the exposed side of his throat, gently biting down just enough to make him gasp. He jumped a little, his hand reflexively going to your waist.

“Hey!” he laughed, lifting his hat slightly to peek at you, a playful grin spreading across his face. “What was that for?”

You gave him an innocent smile. “Nothing,” you said, pressing another quick kiss to his jawline. “I just really like your neck.”

Luffy’s cheeks tinted a faint pink at your confession, and he laughed again, the sound warm and genuine. “Yeah? Well, I like it when you do that,” he admitted, his voice softer, almost shy, which was rare for someone as bold as Luffy.

He shifted a little, settling his hat back over his eyes, but not before tilting his head slightly to the side—offering you better access to the spot you loved so much. It was his way of saying he was okay with your little obsession, that he liked being vulnerable with you, even if it meant being tickled senseless.

You grinned and took full advantage of the moment, pressing a series of soft, lingering kisses up the side of his neck, feeling his pulse quicken beneath your lips. Every time you kissed him there, he would let out this little breathy laugh, his shoulders shaking lightly, and it always made you fall a little more in love with him. You couldn’t help yourself from leaving a few hickeys along the way, enjoying the idea of marking him as yours, even if it meant him teasing you later for it.

“Oi, oi!” he said, his voice hitching slightly when you sucked at the base of his neck. “I’m gonna look like a pirate leopard if you keep doing that!” He was still laughing, but his eyes were warm and relaxed, showing that he didn’t mind at all.

You giggled against his skin. “Well, I’m your girlfriend, so I can do what I want,” you said teasingly, blowing a warm breath against his ear.

His laughter softened, and he reached up to gently cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. “Yeah,” he said softly, his voice losing that usual goofy tone and growing more serious, “and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

There were times when he would get you back for your playful teasing, catching you off guard by flipping you over and peppering your face an neck with kisses, leaving dark hickeys along his way down your body, but you always knew his neck was his weak spot. And you loved having that little bit of control over him—knowing that you could make him blush, make him laugh, make him squirm with just the smallest touch.

One evening, when the crew was gathered around for dinner and Luffy was recounting another one of his wild stories, you couldn’t help but notice the faint hickeys that still dotted his neck. They were barely noticeable unless someone looked closely, but they were there—a little reminder of your affection.

As he laughed and ate, carefree and full of energy, you caught his eye from across the table. He paused mid-sentence, giving you a grin that made your heart skip a beat, and you knew that he didn’t mind. Not one bit. You smiled back, feeling a warmth spread through you.

Luffy may have been the captain, always in charge and leading his crew with determination, but with you, he didn’t mind letting his guard down. He didn’t mind being vulnerable, letting you have that special spot in his life where you could tease, cuddle, and leave your affectionate marks on him.

And when the night was over, and the stars hung above the Thousand Sunny, you would always find yourself right back in that familiar place—curled up against him, head resting in the crook of his neck, feeling his warmth and knowing that there was no place in the world you would rather be.

[kaynanarie]

Eyes of Gold (Part 17)

(A WukongxReader story inspired by Beauty and the Beast and Lutung Kasarung.) (First) (Prev)

            Pain pounded through your head like a war drum, pulling you from a groggy sleep. You groaned and felt for the source, wincing when your clumsy fingers found a tender bump at your temple. Opening your eyes only added to the ache, the dim light jabbing through your skull like sharp daggers. Your body felt heavy and uncoordinated as you cautiously sat up and steadied your senses.

            The first thing you noticed was the heat; muggy air pressing in close, clinging to your robes and skin like a damp, heavy blanket. With it came the lingering, acrid scent of smoke and soot. Once you could squint your eyes open, the space around you slowly came into focus. It was less of a room and more of a cell with rough stone walls and a solid metal door without a handle. Even your ‘bed’ was little more than a carved slab of rock covered by a threadbare blanket.

            Nothing about it felt familiar or welcoming; a far cry from the Fruit and Flower Mountain you had come to call home. As you struggled to remember where you were or how you got there, bits and pieces stitched themselves together like wisps of mist from your hazy memory.

            Spending time with Shihou only to be interrupted by the villagers’ plea for aid. Sun Wukong shattering the frozen lake and his surprising resemblance to your peach friend. Jumping through the waterfall and finally kissing Shihou. His rejection and reveal of the Monkey King’s intentions. The heartbreak and betrayal that drove you from the safety of the palace. Your sister’s deal with the Bull Demon King and your unwilling role to play in it. The last thing you could remember was being captured and knocked unconscious. A gentle brush where you had been struck did little to sooth the ache in both your head and your heart.

            Given the stone walls and fortified door, it was obvious you had been handed over to the son of the bull. But, without a handle to even try, you had no idea what to expect or what to do next.

            A, small, secret part of you hoped your peach friend would somehow know you needed help; that Shihou would find you, save you, protect you like he always promised. Maybe the Monkey King himself would be inclined to mount a rescue given his inexplicable claim over you. But with the harsh words and heartbreak left in the wake of your sudden disappearance, expecting aid from either monkey was little more than wishful thinking.

            Through the heavy gloom surrounding you, a beam of light illuminated the far wall in a soft, golden glow. Swaying to your feet, you shuffled across the room until you reached a window to the outside. Thick, iron bars were embedded in the surrounding stone, blocking any escape attempts. Not that it made much of a difference; the hole was no bigger than your face, only a wispy breeze and ray of sunshine able to squeeze through. A small patch of sky was barely visible with puffy clouds and a lone hawk drifting along the blue. You couldn’t help but envy its freedom.

            Time passed slowly, only marked by the dizzying circles of the sharp-eyed bird on the hunt. You had nearly dozed off again when a metal clang startled you and triggered your headache back to full force. The heavy door swung open and two demons crowded into the tiny room. Both were tall with red skin, yellow eyes, and jagged teeth. They wore matching armor and carried identical spears; clearly guards of whatever demon held you captive.

            “His Highness has summoned you,” one of them growled. Before you could answer, much less protest, each arm was grabbed and you were hauled up and out of your cell.

            The rest of the dungeon was eerily similar, the same hot air and gray stone lining the torchlit halls. Your head swam and your feet stumbled under you but the bruising grips on your arms forced you to keep pace with the guards’ steadfast march. The more turns you were dragged down, the more dread tightened your chest and turned your stomach.

            You knew you were a prisoner of a demon prince but beyond that, everything was an unnerving mystery. Where you were and how far were you from home? Would the bull king’s son be kind or cruel? With the endless tunnels of solid stone, what were the odds of escaping? And would you even survive an audience with your unexpected betrothed?

            As the endless gray and flickering flames blurred together in your muddled mind, the sudden splash of red at the end of the tunnel was jarring to see. The guards stopped just before the curtain and announced in a booming voice, “We’ve brought the human, your Highness!”

            A moment passed before someone answered, younger but with unwavering authority. “You may enter.”

            The heavy fabric was held aside and you were shoved into the next room. More stone greeted you, this time arching high and wide into an enormous cavern. Even with the open space, the intense heat and smoky scent was nearly suffocating. Crimson banners and support pillars reached from floor to ceiling, circling around a raised dais. As you were marched closer, an ornate throne came into view along with the figure seated on it.

            He looked like a youth; no longer a child but not yet a man. Dark hair and fair skin contrasted elegantly against the red silks of his robes. Embroidered dragons and phoenixes decorated his armored kilt, both extravagant and battle ready all at once. He lounged on the throne, bare feet kicked up and chin leaning against his fist. The other hand idly twirled a gleaming lance with practiced ease.

            The guards stomped to a halt and forced you to kneel before the prince. Despite his human-like appearance, he radiated the dangerous aura of a powerful demon.

            “Finally awake, I see,” the young man spoke, barely glancing your way with bored disinterest. “About time. I was beginning to wonder if you’d save us the trouble and not wake at all.”

            “Where am I?” you blurted out before you could think better of it. “How long have I been here?”

            “The Flaming Mountains. You’ve been asleep since I brought you here nearly two days ago.” The judgmental stare he pinned you with sent a shudder down your spine. “I must say, as dingy as your little village was, I wasn’t expected my chosen betrothed to be handed over in such a disheveled state.”

            You fidgeted a bit under his scrutiny, acutely aware of your crumpled robe and unkempt appearance. Shoving your nerves aside, you redirected the conversation to answer your own question. “So, you must be son of the Bull Demon King, then?”

            “Correct; seems you’re not completely dim…for a human, anyways.” He stood from his throne, shoulders squared and chin raised high and proud. “I am Red Boy, son of the Bull Demon King and Rakshasi the Princess Iron Fan.”

            His lance was leveled down at you, the sharp edge pressing just under your chin. Ice washed through your veins, breath froze in your lungs, and your heart raced with panic but you dared not move.

            “You will address me as ‘Lord’ or ‘Prince’ if you wish to keep your tongue. We may be betrothed but it does not make us equals. I’m not keen on an arranged marriage, especially to a human. It is only out of respect for my father that I agreed to this political match. If you wish to keep your village safe from harm, I suggest you stay agreeable as well.”

     ��      Once the weapon was withdrawn, the tight squeeze in your chest relaxed enough to finally breathe. The threat was clear but beyond that, his words gave you an idea and the tiniest shred of hope to act on.

            “Apologies, Lord Red Boy, but I’m afraid there’s been a mistake,” you forced the words out, shaky but determined. “You see, the Bull Demon King is not the protector of my village.”

            A curved brow arched up in surprise. “That’s a bold claim, human,” he sneered, eyes flashing in warning. “Explain yourself.”

            “Your father made the deal with my sister not realizing the village was already under the protection of Sun Wukong–”

            “THAT DAMN MONKEY!?” While Red Boy’s enraged shout was startling, the blaze of fire that spewed from his mouth was even more so. He took a deep breath to compose himself, puffs of black smoke still seeping between his gritted teeth when he addressed you again. “You presume to know the business of my father and the Monkey King?”

            “I–I’ve been staying as a royal guest of Sun Wukong,” you stuttered out. “I was there when the kings… agreed that the village would stay under the Monkey King’s patronage.”

            Red Boy’s sharp smile held no amusement. “You’re suggesting my father lost his claim?”

            “I just know Sun Wukong has continued to protect the village while Bull Demon King moved on with his soldiers,” you answered carefully.

            The prince sat back on his throne, fingers steepled and face pinched in thought. “I don’t believe you,” he finally said, dark eyes glowing like heated coal. “Why would the Monkey King hand over his supposed ‘Royal Guest’ for a deal that’s no longer in accord?”

            “He didn’t.” You shook your head, on hand soothing over your injured temple. “My sister has wished for my absence from the village for a while. She arranged for my abduction without Sun Wukong’s knowledge.”

            Red Boy still seemed unconvinced, staring you down with something akin to pity. “And this isn’t just you trying to weasel your way out of the marriage agreement?”

            “Would you rather go through with the wedding and find out it wasn’t necessary?” you countered boldly.

            He pondered your words, head nodding slowly in agreement. “You make an excellent point. Perhaps I will send word to my father to corroborate your story.” Red Boy gestured to one of his servant. Immediately, a scroll was unfurled and the demon began writing out a message. “If you’re telling the truth as the monkey’s ‘Royal Guest’, the deal will be off and your fate will be decided from there. But if you’re lying…” The tip of his lance glowed before igniting, the flames dancing hot and threatening along the blade. “I will personally show you how unforgiving the flames of this mountain can be.”

            At the snap of the prince’s fingers, the demon guards grabbed your arms and hauled you back to your feet. “In the meantime, you will continue to be my guest until word returns on your claims.”

            Red Boy turned away in a clear dismissal and you were dragged out of the throne room before you could plead your case further.

            The march back to the dungeon was just as disorienting. Before you knew it, you were returned to your stone cell, iron door closed and locked behind you. A gourd of water and stale bread had been left for a meal but you had no appetite.

            All the hope had been drained out of you, every threat and ominous promise weighing heavy on your mind. Red Boy, while maybe not as powerful as the Monkey King, was still dangerous and had no qualms about harming humans, you included. Even if Bull Demon King did confirm your story, there was no guarantee of your release or safety.

            Weary and disheartened, you bypassed the bed in favor of huddling against window. The hawk was still circling and the setting sun colored the clouds in shades of pink and purple. It was a small comfort but you clung to it, enjoying your glimpse to the outside. Even as the distant light faded over the horizon and the sky darkened to night, your only wish was to live long enough to see the sun again.

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~🍑 Peach Friends 🍑~

@joyfulllittlething @iluxurycruisedthatship @drspecialhell @moondrop39-dovewing70 @happycarp @chibifox88 @rutabaga-menace @resident-cryptid @reynboe-sage @taffycandyqt @alicee-carter @epochal-oracle @unnisumi @borealis33 @aerkame

(If you would like to join the tag list, let me know!)

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Finally done! Apologies for the delay, I've had computer problems for the past month and my laptop finally gave up the ghost this past weekend. I'm using my old, slow one until my new one arrives. In the meantime, Red Boy! 🔥

Huge thanks to @blackknight-kai and @drspecialhell for helping me so much with this chapter, love you guys! 💖

You can also find this story on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60643669