#oh you'll get love for it. you'll get hate for it. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zepskies · 3 days ago

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@lamentationsofalonelypotato

Omg yay!! Thank you so much, friend! I'm excited for you loll ❤️❤️

Again, I really love the soft reader in this fic. She's lovely and kind and there's just something about her that's so endearing that it makes me want to give her a big hug. 💚

She's a real sweetheart, right? Writing someone who wants to work with little kids, I wanted to write a young woman who isn't without her flaws, but really embodied that kind, nurturing nature that makes for great elementary school teachers. 💗 (And the kind of inner goodness that I think Dean would find endearing too.)

I'm melting over her reassurance to Dean that she doesn't regret a single second! And the kiss had me screaming!

Aww that was one of my favorite scenes for this doozy of a chapter lol. 🥹 But it kind of makes you wish that you could knock Dean's head in like a coconut and get him to see what's right in front of his face! 😂

As someone who loves to bake I felt this in my soul. Also I love that you've given us another reader like the reader in Midnight Espresso who likes to take care of other people, because again it's so warm and welcoming and fantastic!

Girl same! haha drawing on my own love of baking for this part. But omg I love you for referencing Midnight Espresso lol. She's definitely a kind of version of that reader who's a giver/nurturer. 💞

Dean, Dean, Dean... you know why. We all know why.

Again, he's being a big dummy!! 🙄

I'm so happy at this point, but I just know that Lisa is probably gonna ruin it. Dang it, I love that you included her to cause some friction and some angst, but I'm just living life on the edge of my emotions each time she comes in.

Now I feel bad because I read the next sentence about Lisa being nice. Lisa I'm so sorry. Please accept this potato as my humble apology. 🥔

loll you may want to hang onto your potato for a while. Lisa is...complicated in this story. But you'll see why! loll

Okay... before I dive into the five years later, I just want to say that I feel so bad for Dean, but at the same time you GO Benny! Because he's being so sweet and kind and isn't playing with her emotions, and he's literally there for her even though she's having someone else's kid. Like what a man. 👏🏻

Yes, Benny really stepped up, didn't he? He is being more straightforward than Dean, and the reader knows where she stands with Benny. But as the lovely Wayne (waynes-multiverse) pointed out, he also steps in where Dean really should be. We can see Benny's a good man with good intentions, and he so clearly likes the reader and wants to be there for her, right?

Buuuuut maybe he should've asked Dean if it was really ok if he pursued the reader before he stepped in. Maybe as his friend, he should've asked Dean what the hell he was doing with Lisa when the reader really needed him right now lol. Maybe that would've been the wake-up call Dean needed to get his shit together and realize he didn't really truly love Lisa. 🤔

Literally screaming yes! I'm so happy for them. And also I love the Robert Plant reference.

ehehe yes! Reader and Benny are making strides forward, but mean while Dean did win the debate for the kid's name 🤣

Oh buddy... and just like that the happy feeling is starting to ebb away. I mean I'm happy that she has someone, but I hate that she feels like she can't be herself there. It turns into feeling trapped really quick.

Ah, exactlyyy. It's good with Benny, sure, but it's not perfect. No relationship is, but at the same time, this is a key moment that you can see where reader/Benny might not be the best fit...

Side Note: Love the Jurassic Park reference. I know that you're as big a Jurassic Park girlie as I am!! 🦖 But it's also terrible that he let a four year old watch that 😬

Ahaha yes!! I knew you would catch that! Oh yeah, but that's the kind of mistake a man not used to little kids would make, I feel like 🤣

Baby, he wants to be the good man who treats her right. And don't think I don't see the subtle hinting that you've got going on Lisa. I'm about to take back my potato.

lol oh yeah, she's starting to get the hint that Dean is in love with the reader, even if she doesn't want it to be true. 😅 (Hold your potato until further notice - it's about to get worse before it gets better with Lisa 😂)

Dang it. Now I feel bad for Lisa. It's true though. It's literally five years of on and off and where is it going? I see what she's getting at and I do feel for her.

Yep, her timing to discuss this might not have been great, but her points are totally valid. Dean should NOT have been stringing her along for this long. And yet, she's been willingly a part of this 5-year rollercoaster with Dean, so she's kind of at fault too 😅

Ah yes, the classic Dean Winchester get mad at other things because he's too afraid to say the one big thing that he's held close to his heart for the past 5 years. *sigh* 😒 It's sad to me because Dean could have done this five years ago and it would have been less complicated. Now he's been with Lisa for 5 years, and the reader has been with Benny for 2. And yes maybe the reader isn't happy, happy, but in the end there are four people involved in this rather than the two it could have been at the beginning (or maybe 3?).

BIG YEP. That's where we're at - Dean letting his anger spill into other things instead of talking about the thing he should get off his chest. 🥲🥲 He's just not ready to admit that the idea of her and Benny getting married means he's lost his chance forever, because that would mean actually acknowledging he has feelings for her when he's meant to be with Lisa.

And you make a really good point there with Dean and how he should've broken things off with Lisa sooner and talked to the reader about where each of them stands emotionally -- all of which will be explored in the epilogue too.

Oh my word he's such a good dad to Robbie even when he's hurt and I can't take the feelings! 😭

I knowwww I'm sorry I almost killed Dean, but this is the first of many wake-up calls for both Dean and reader. ��😭

And the fact that Benny calls Dean "brother" is just making the feelings even worse, because I know what's coming and oh man, it's gonna hurt Benny so much.

Oh yeah, we're going full heartbreak in the future for poor Benny, but at the same time, he did peep the way the reader held Dean's hand. He might be shouldering some Lisa-like denial himself where the reader is concerned. 😅

Oh boy... this is... this is really... I have no words because both of them have points. But I would still like my potato back, thank you very much.

LOL girl I told you! But thank you because I too thought both Lisa and reader had valid points in this argument, even if it was hard for both of them to hear. 😭💔

This is KILLING ME ALEX! They just need to communicate with one another instead of shutting each other out! DANG IT! SPEAK! DEAN STOP DOING THE SUFFER IN SILENCE BIT! We all know you can look super hot while you're brooding, but COME ON! I just want to hit him with a frying pan!

hahaaa yes the frying pan would come in handy right about now!! Communication (or lack thereof) is their biggest weakness in this story, but it just goes to show that no one means to do anyone wrong here.

I tried to do something different with this story and make it feel more realistic, with no real "villain," except that we can hurt the people we love the most unintentionally with our actions and inaction. What we say, and sometimes more importantly, what we don't say.

Like an end table. Because that's what every woman wants from her significant other 🤣 Also I'm literally cackling over the fact that Dean and Benny chose the same night to ask their ladies to marry them. Their brains are so in sync LOL.

Hahahaa right? Really seeing what might just hold the reader up from accepting this impending proposal. Dean did get one final warning on what he's about to lose, and it ain't Lisa 😭

She can have a whole truck full of potatoes. She did the right thing and the "Go fight for it," is just so lovely.

Better late than never, right? 😅 She finally realized she had to let Dean go. 💔 And I love that you liked the "Go fight for it," line, because that was one of my favorites too. It's time for Dean to get off his ass!

I especially love this little bit, because you describe what the reader wants in love (what we all want LOL) and then you add the difference when Dean touches her. But I also completely understand her hesitancy to go to Dean even though it's what her heart is telling her. She's trying not to get her heart broken and yet Dean is the person she's held there for so long.

Ahh thank you! 🥹 Girl wants that Godfather Thunderbolt lol, and she has it with Dean, she's just afraid of being hurt again, or just being "sex and a good time" for Dean. But he of course makes it clear that she's the Thunderbolt for him too. 💗💗

Can I ask how long it's been since they got back together? I love the time skip, but I'm just curious to see how long Dean waited to pop the question. 😊

Ooh so you'll find out the answer to that question in the epilogue! There will be some key scenes that fill in the in between -- from this moment, to the engagement, to the wedding (and more). 😘❤️❤️

Also the stuff about Benny is so sad- I'm beyond happy for the reader and Dean (their love makes me so happy)- but dang he was Dean's best friend. And the stuff about Dean saying that this wasn't how he wanted to be promoted, I'm having so many feelings AHHHHH! But I wish Benny happiness. Who knows? Maybe he and Lisa will meet up in a few years and bond 🤪

Oh it's sooo very bittersweet and messy, isn't it? Dean and reader certainly weren't perfect, and Benny really tried his best, but you'll see more of his side of the story in the epilogue, which a lot of what I wrote was to do just that for Benny. 🥲 He deserves his happy ending! (And there's closure for Lisa too. ❤️)

(I also felt the need to add the next paragraph because I read the comments)

Oh you saw that, huh? 😂 Yeah, I think you remember that turned into a fun "anonymous" ask in my inbox asking why I was so "defensive" when people criticized my work. I typically have thick skin and was ready to forget the comments entirely, but when that "ask" came in it really annoyed me, not gonna lie. lol

I probably should've just ignored the inbox message and deleted it, rather than spend more time and energy on replying to someone whose mind likely isn't going to be changed on how they talk to writers, regardless. 😂

I get that this AU story was "different," and messy with these relationships, but that was kind of the point.

Bless you though for your thoughtful and heartwarming feedback regarding the Lisa and Benny storylines! 💗💗💗

And I think that Dean's character makes sense because yes at the beginning he was a playboy, but then he started to feel the stability of the reader, started to crave something more than what he had in his life- and instead of going with her, he clung to Lisa.

Exactly! I never outright said Dean's age at the beginning of Part 1, though heavily implied that he was young (mid-20s) and the reader was even younger, fresh out of college. They made mistakes and had to figure out how to level up in their maturity to handle the situation of a surprise pregnancy, all while trying to build their careers.

For example, Dean tried to take Sam's advice to heart about trying to have "real relationships," but he didn't mean with just anyone, Dean. 😂

Just as the reader wanted something more and started to date Benny, but missed the electricity of what the reader thought love should feel like. Dean and the reader both felt the need to push down their feelings and search in the wrong places for what they wanted from each other. At least that's how I took it and I loved every single second of this fic and how you wrapped everything up!

Yes exactly! I really wanted to make people think on this one, and you got where I was going with this. 👌🏽

When you have so much going on around you and things you have to deal with (like a full on child you weren't prepared for), it can be hard to figure out what you really want, whether that's relationships, your career, or your own sense of identity. I'm so glad you enjoyed the angsty ride, even though it wasn't easy!! And again, I really appreciate your thoughts here. 🥹💕💕

ALEX, this fic was amazing! It had me feeling all the feels on this wonderful, beautifully written emotional rollercoaster. I can't wait to read the epilogue!

Thank you so very much, Lee!! I felt all the things while writing this one lol, so I really hope you enjoy the epilogue too. It's going to answer some of those questions for you and give these characters even more closure. ❤️❤️❤️

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.

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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#lovely review!! 💕💕💕#reader appreciation #lovely mutuals #zep replies

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isetfiretomyself · 2 days ago

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Yandere Male survivor X G/N Zombie Reader

Sorry for the lack of fics! I've been going through it but don't worry, I'm back! and killing a reader... again. I do love you guys I promise (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧ - Jay

Trigger Warnings! Emotional grief, depictions of violence, Emetophobia, murder . I really tried making this fic darker than usual. This is all fictional! I do not condone toxic (or yk literal crimes) behaviour irl!

Riley was devastated. Watching you collapse in his arms. Spasming, foaming at the mouth with tears in your eyes. Watching you turn into a zombie was worse then watching that monster to take a bite out of your leg. Wether it was seeing his face while dying, love or just something unexplainable but your undead form could understand him. Activity trying to reach out to him.

🦴 Yandere Survivor who kept you on a leash at first. You were still alive but now a curious thing.

🦴 Yandere Survivor who kept a shot gun with him.

Every time he met anyone new they all tried killing you. He didn't like that. He'd aim for their knee caps so you'd have some lunch.

🦴 Yandere Survivor who hated nights. Watching you stare at the wall or into some woods killed him. He missed your human form more then society before the apocalypse. He talked to you still, sometimes just talking about memories. He's scared you'll forget one day.

Riley was caught off guard once by a zombie but you stepped in. Repeated smashing another undead monsters skull against the round. The already infected brain smearing on the floor. That was the first time he saw you as a beast but it was for him...to protect him.

🦴 Yandere Survivor knew you still loved him! You two had left your city when the outbreak happened but now that everywhere is infected he really wanted to go home.

Walking along the empty street road. Riley noticed a car was coming along. That's never a good sign, survivors smart enough to find petrol are smart enough to shoot zombies on sight. He gently grabs your hand. He's worried if he used too much strength your hand will rip of your body. The car stops, survivors get out warily. "Don't shoot!" Yandere Survivor yelled out.

🦴 Yandere Survivor didn't really have anything else he could say. He saw one of them grab something from behind their back. He grabbed his shot gun and fired twice. One in each head, they collapsed to the ground almost simultaneously. If he didn't feel sick he probably would've laughed. All that could be heard was retching and his vomiting splattering against the ground. That's the first time he took a lift technically. I mean he'd shot before but so you could go in for the kill.

Riley walked over to the corpses. It was a gun the survivor was going for but it didn't make him feel any better. Yandere Survivor looks in the car, he can hear chewing and a almost moist noise of lips slapping together. He loves you but no zombie could eat in a non disgusting way. He grabbed some of the food he found in the car. A protein bar, bag of nuts it was all useful out here. He noticed a map. Funnily enough they weren't as easy to find as in those zombie games. Looking along those lines stretching out for all over there was a scribbled circle around where you and him had been with the title "specimen". Riley should of caught on sooner it was about you.

More and more survivors were trying to interact with you two, especially trying to immobilise you.

🦴 Yandere Survivor had enough by the fourth time. Holding another survivor at gun point "What's going on!?" He can hear you grunt behind him agreeing with him. "That thing! That's what they want! They said we'd have safety - You- you wouldn't understand! You have a little guard dog by your-" he was cut off by the sound of his own jaw being blown off. The body slumps on the ground. Nobody gets to talk about you like that. You nudge his giving a displeased looked. "Oh yeah! Probably should of asked who 'they' was, shouldn't of I?"

🦴 Yandere Survivor did find out it was scientists looking for you. I mean you're the most human zombie out there but for you to be studied they'd definitely have to cut you open. He's not letting that happen. He's lost part of you, he's not losing the rest. The first two full kills upset him greatly but now he can do it without even cringing. Yandere Survivor couldn't tell if you're more human or he's more zombie at this point.

🦴 But with all this going on with all the darkness and violence there's a few happy times! Yandere Survivor got used to your cold hands holding his arm or your grunts that only he could understand. He never got chance to propose to you but he supposed that also works about you two aren't together till death do you part. He's stayed after that.

#yandere imagines #gn reader #x reader #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere headcanons #male yandere

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maybankslover · 2 days ago

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should've known - rafe cameron

rafe cameron x highschoolsweetheart!reader

warnings: angst. mention of a dead parent.

summary: he wishes he could let go but it's never easy when it comes to love.

playlist: you're losing me by taylor swift

oh that first love, the one you hoped it'd last forever or the one you knew it wasn't meant to last.

somehow they were both. sixteen year old teenager's who were friends since they were kids to young adults that didn't know how to stop the cycle.

it all started when, at eighteen, she decided to go to vanderbilt university instead of unc chapel hill almost eight hours away from where he would be studying bussiness.

"i don't understand why you can't go to chapel hill like we used to talk about." rafe huffed once again.

"and why can't you come with me to vanderbilt, you were accepted baby." she said looking at him from her spot on his desk's chair.

"you know why." he breath out. his father.

"fuck him. fuck what he has to say rafe." she walked to him and sat on his legs. "build a life for yourself, you already have a position there that he can't take away from you."

"it's not that easy and you know it." he laid his head on her shoulder. "i'd love to but he won't pay for it if i don't go to chapel hill."

"we'll make it work then." she kissed his forehead. "i already know i don't have classes on monday."

"and i have virtual classes on friday afternoon." he smiled softly at the kiss. "can drive to you after my last class at five pm on thursday's every two weeks?"

"and then i can do the same sometimes." they really thought they could pull it off, they did at least for almost two years.

"you promised you'd come." his brows frowned and she felt guilty.

"i know honey but."

"no honey no but, you always do this y/n/n. you know it's important and then something else comes along." she watched as he picked on his nails.

"the professor organiced this out of the blue." it wasn't a lie but it was something she was told she could skip.

"yeah sure. talk to you tomorrow or wherever you'll be free to speak to your boyfriend." she, once again, had let him down.

"c'mon i'll go next weekend." she insisted.

"next weekend there won't be any games because it' the final this weekend and i told you a hundred times." he nodded no. "doesn't matter anymore, goodnight." the facetime ended and she was left alone with her reflection on the black screen.

text

y/n 'i'm sorry'

y/n 'i'll make it up to you'

y/n 'i love you'

rafe 'i don't want you to make it up, i want you to show up for me the same way i do for you'

he didn't do anything else from going to class then to practice and going back to his room after. he didn't know how to stop feeling so blue, she had never been the one to make him feel unworthy but now she was turning into someone he didn't really recognised anymore and he hated that feeling.

she had kept texting him but only received short answers back.

saturday afternoon rolled around and championship was won by chappel hill basketball team.

text

y/n 'saw the game baby'

y/n 'i'm proud of you. best player as always'

y/n 'i love you'

rafe 'thank you'

rafe 'me too'

he was getting tired and she knew it, he had the right to and she knew that too.

on friday night a knock on his door made him roll his eyes.

"I'm not going out topper." he loudly said and sighed when his door opened anyway.

"not topper." his girlfriend made her way in and closed the door behind her. "hi."

"hey." he sat up. "what are you doing here?"

"making up for last weekend." his eyes scanned all over her. "I'm sorry baby."

"yeah you already said that like a hundred times actually." he was still mad. "needed you last weekend not this."

"I know but."

"no, I'm done with the but actually you know." he scoffed. "because I've always been there, every single time and I know we have separate lives right now but when it's something as big as it was the game for me I expect you to be there for me."

she stared at him like a deer in headlights surprised at how he was talking to her because never in all the years they had been together he used that firm tone.

"I still expect my girlfriend to be there and you weren't, everyone had their people there and I didn't." he roughly cleaned a tear that made it's way down his cheek. "I'm actually tired so if you're going to stay there's the bathroom and turn the light off when you come to bed."

she was losing him.

he wasn't asleep when she came to bed so he felt how she wrapped her arm around him and kissed his shoulder repeatedly murmuring small I love you's onto his skin.

it made him want to cry because he felt anything but feeling loved by her.

next morning as he was awoken by the sun that reflected in the window, he was confused for a minute by the feeling of a warm body against his before realising she was actually there. her head rested on his chest with a leg interlocked with his and arm drapped over his stomach.

saturday morning was rather quiet in the frat house he shared, most of them either asleep or out on whatever thing they had going on. he touched the side of her face with his index finger admiring how beautiful she was even while sleeping.

he wondered how many more times he would be able to do this to have her like this before it all blew up in the air. his heart wrecked everytime he thought about a life without her even when he suspected her's didn't broke in the same way his did.

"hey." she murmured. "good morning"

"morning" he replied and pressed a kiss to her scalp.

"missed this." she snuggled even more onto him. "missed you."

"yeah me too." he sighed. "me too."

she looked up fixating her gaze on his closed eyes and how the sun illuminated his freckles. the one's she had fallen in love with as a child.

"want me to make breakfast?" she said, placing little kisses on his skin.

"nah there's this place about 10 minutes away by the lake. you'll like it." she smiled at the thought of him going somewhere and thinking she'll like this. she had to be better for him.

he watched as she got ready and while on their way to the lake everything seemed to be the same it felt that way. her hand always reaching for his and the soft kisses on his bicep.

"how's everything going back there?" he asked before taking a bite of his breakfast.

"good the classes are so intresting and when we have debates i feel so excited like that's what i've wanting to learn for years." he smiled at the happiness she expressed it with. "party's are alright nothing particular. janett keeps insisting i should go out more but i don't really find it as fun if they're without you."

"you should, college experience and all." he chuckled.

"already told you, it's not that fun without my bodyguard with me." she smiled at him and he hummed. "rafe c'mon baby I'm trying here."

"I'm trying too, sorry I'm still hurt about my girlfriend not being there for me." he leaned back on his side of the booth and ran his hands across his face. "I love you so much but you shouldn't have come because I'm so mad at you, I've been mad for a while and what happened last week was the last straw."

"baby please." she tried but he didn't let her talk.

"no y/n, no baby, no please, no nothing." he took a deep breath in. "just stay the weekend because it's going to rain until thursday afternoon and I won't let you drive eight hours in the bad weather."

"rafe honey." she got up from her seat and sat next to him fast to hold his hand.

"you know how awful it's to feel you're stopping loving me?" he avoided her eyes, feeling like a child begging for love. "to me you're everything, everything I've ever wanted, everything I ever seen for my future."

she squeezed his hand.

"and I don't think you want the same thing you once did with me." he closed his eyes, afraid of what would happen if he continued expressing what he was thinking but did it anyway. "I don't think you're accepting something you already know. you don't love me the way you did before and I won't beg you to love me but I'll beg you to let me go."

"no." she let go of his hand and both of her's went to hold his face making him look at her. "I love you more than I love anybody else, I hate myself for making you feel this way. you're the love of my life." he still didn't look her in the eyes. "I've neglecting this, us. I realise it now but I don't want anyone that isn't you."

she kissed his nose repeatedly just like she used to do when they were kids.

"I want to believe you but there are not any proof of it anymore." he gently pushed her hand away from his face and stood up. "let's go."

the drive back to his place was awfully tense, a folk playlist playing really low. she looked at him from time to time as she took in the words he had said.

she was losing him.

everyone said hi to her as they entered the place but at the sight of rafe's expression they collectively decided on their minds to not say anything and just let the couple go to his room.

they had fights before, but this wasn't a fight, this was him letting her know he was defeated.

"gonna shower, there's my laptop if you want to watch something." he mumbled taking some clothes from his dresser and dissappearing inside the en-suit bathroom.

she sat on his bed staring at the halfway shut door, the sound of the water falling and a groan from him that let her know the water was way too warm.

five minutes later she entered the bathroom.

"rafe?" she almost whispered.

"yeah?" he knew what she was going to ask and he knew he was going to say yes.

"can I come in with you?" he sighed before saying yes.

he didn't turn around when she entered. her right cheek placed on his back and her arms came to hug his front.

"I love you." she placed smalled kisses on the skin she promised her lips missed the most and repeated the words a few times.

his head hung low.

"I love you too but i need you to stop hurting me because i know you know you hurt me everytime you break a promise." he didn't intend for his voice to break but it did anyways. "and you know i can't handle that type of rejection, if you want to leave just do it but don't punish me emotionally."

"baby turn around." she said and looked into his eyes when he did, baby blue eyes that were red from trying to hold the tears. "i never wanted to be the one making you feel like this." her hands placed on his cheeks made him feel safe and he was starting to hate it, starting to hate how vulnerable he actually was with her and how it had never been an issue until now. "I'll be better for you, for us." he nodded and leaned down, resting his head on the crook of her neck while her arms moved to keep him close to her body.

they spent a quiet weekend, tangled sheets and lunch for breakfast. he felt so empty as he saw her drive away.

"finally out of your room." topper teased him. "good weekend?"

"sure." his friend now wore a confused look in his face.

"sure? that's it?" topper sat infront of rafe. "c'mon man what's going on?"

"i don't know top like i genuinely don't know." he sighed. "she says i love you and i feel like she's lying to my face."

"y/n/n? there's no way, you two have been obssesed with the other since kindergarden." he tried to make a joke but rafe was too zooned out to catch it. "everything will be alright, don't worry about it."

and things were back to normal for two or three months.

"i won't be going home for thanksgiving." he chuckled at her words.

"should've known." he already knew her next words 'baby please' 'rafey i'm sorry' 'i promise i'll make it up to you' and like clockwise she repeated the sentences.

"baby i promise i'll make it up to you rafey." he looked up at the ceiling of his room trying to ignore his girlfriend's face on the screen of his phone while he decided his next words.

"i think i need a break."

"a break? from what?" her pulse started racing.

"this, us. you." he clenched his jaw. oh how he hated this. "this isn't working anymore, it hasn't for a while and i've been trying to ignore it just like you ignore every signal i give you."

"no no no rafe, there's no way." her eyes filled with tears.

"i'm tired of trying to make you see me, of trying to make you see how this has become a sad song with no fucking return y/n." he couldn't stop himself from crying. "and don't come home because this time i don't want to see you, don't come now that you know it's done when you had other plans."

"but i don't want this." she exclaimed. "i don't want the break."

"i do." he nodded. "and for the first time in a really long time i'll prioritize how i feel instead of the fear i feel of losing you because let's be honest, you know you were losing me and you didn't really care."

she stayed quiet for a bit.

"i never wanted to make you feel like that." she mumbles and pulls the sleeves of one of his old jerseys down covering her hands. "i love you."

"it doesn't really have any meaning now coming from you." he wasn't saying it to hurt her, he really meant it. "i have to go, i'm driving home tonight."

"rafe no please, there has to be another way." he shook his head. "don't do this to us."

"it wasn't me, it was you." his hand moved up and down on his face. "take care."

he ended the call. and both of them stared at their own screens.

"fuck." he screamed and punched the wall beside him.

he was once again alone. alone without the one who held him when his mom died, the one that had always made him feel loved. the one he never thought would stop loving him.

lilah, her roomate, rushed to her room as she heard the horrible sob coming from it.

"hey hey hey." she kneeled beside her. "what happened?"

"he-he broke up with me." her tear stained face made her roomate feel bad for her but lilah knew why rafe broke up with her.

"oh honey." she wrapped her arms around the crying girl. "i'm sorry."

rafe was glad topper was the one driving, he was in no state of mind to do it. he had already told sarah what happened and asked her to let the rest of the family know.

no one believed sarah's word until the saw him enter the place, dark circles under his eyes and a gray cloud around him that they hadn't seen in a while.

wheezie hugged him and told him she had miss him a lot, his dad came to give him a short hug and said 'glad to have you home son' while sarah waited until he was up in his room to see him.

"hey, can i come in?" she opened the door a bit peaking inside.

"yeah." he sighed.

"wanna talk about what happened?" he nodded no. "want to watch a movie?" she received the same nod.

"i just want to sleep sar, sorry." she gave him half a smile and kissed his forehead just like he did when she was sad.

"i'm next door if you need something." he thanked her and watched as she left his room.

text

y/n 'i know you don't want to talk to me but i just want to know you got home alright'

rafe 'topper drove, already home'

y/n 'thank you <3'

he stayed a another week at home after thanksgiving break ended.

once a week she reached out with the hope he would answer her.

text

a week in

y/n 'just want to know how are you'

two weeks in

y/n 'i miss you please answer me'

when he went back it was as if another soul had taken over his body. drunk every weekend, making out with a different girl at every party but he never took them to his bed. that was a step he wasn't ready to take yet, one thing was a kiss and another was someone seeing him in a way only she had had him.

three weeks in

y/n 'i feel like i'm going insane please'

maybe it was petty to want her to feel ignored the same way he felt, maybe he wanted to be the best thing at a party. a party she no longer had access to.

a month in

y/n 'just a message'

instead of a message she saw topper's instagram story, rafe seemed to be having the time of his life there.

topperthorton via instagram stories

tagged: rafecameron

a month and a half in

y/n 'please'

y/n 'i need to see you'

y/n 'i can't keep going like this, without you. i miss you'

rafe stared at his phone not knowing what to do. she was the love of his life but he didn't want to keep getting hurt.

text

rafe 'i miss you too'

his cell rang, a photo of her showing up. the sun all over her face smiling at the beach, it was his favorite one.

"hey." he picked up the call and heard what seemed to be a sigh.

"hi." street noises were at the background but he decided to not pay much attention to it. "how are you?"

"i'm alright, you?" he was all but alright.

"i'm a mess." she chuckled. "never been better." her sarcasm almost makes him laugh.

"i get it."

"i miss you." she said as if it should be some kind of a secret. "i miss you so much."

"i miss you too." he hated how weak he became when it was about her.

"can't sleep, can't eat. can't do life without you." her voice cracked. "and i'm so fucking sorry this is my fault, i don't know why you picked up the phone when i don't deserve it."

"because i love you." he chuckled. "that's why."

"i love you too." she heard him sigh. "want to see you."

"why didn't you facetime me then?"

"cause i'm kinda outside already." he froze. "wanna open?"

"what do you mean outside?" he walked up to his window and there she was leaning against the hood of her car looking up at him. "the fuck are you doing here?" he threw his phone in the bed before going downstairs.

"what's got you in such a rush man?" one of his roomates asked as all the guys in the living room looked at him but he didn't answer.

instead he jogged to the door, opened it and walked up to her.

"you're here." he said as if it wasn't obvious once he got to her.

"yeah." she didn't wait for anything before wrapping her arms around his neck.

"what are you doing?" his arms hugged tightly her waist.

"what i should've done months ago. come straight to you and nothing else." she pushed back a bit to be able to hold his face, her eyes held back tears. "you're the only person that really matters, the one i love the most."

he looked all over her face as if he was trying to catch a lie in her words but he didn't find any.

"and i don't want lose you, not now not ever rafe." she cried. "i don't know and i don't want to live without you."

he held her close and kissed her temple.

"let's go inside. it's cold." she agreed with a nod and let him lead her inside, avoiding his roomates and going straight to his space.

they sat on his bed facing each other.

"i know you probably don't believe me from the amount of times i've said sorry and the repeated the same things i did before." she sniffled in between words. "but i'm sorry, i'm sorry i hurted you so much and that it took me this long to realise you could get tired of me and my behaviour."

he only stared at her and chewed his lower lip. he felt like a little kid.

"do you think you have it in your heart to give me another chance? a chance to make it right?" there were only a few times where she felt her heart beating how it was doing right now. all of them had to do with rafe but they had never been sad moments, the only sad moment rafe had given her was one she created herself.

he was that good of a boyfriend.

"how do i know once we're comfortable again you won't let me down?" he sounded defeated. "because i'd give the world for you and i can't do it again. i can't give you everything again and not get the same treatment back."

"because i'd rather give up everything, change schools and move right next to you than lose you." his eyebrows raised with surprise.

"won't let you give up your dreams." he sighed. "that's not what i want."

"i know but i'd give up everything just to have a life by your side." her hand covered his.

his sight drawn to the warm he now felt and closed his eyes. even if he wanted to say no to be stubborn, he wouldn't be able to.

everypart of him already said yes but his mouth didn't. he just extended his arms, picked her up and placed her on his lap allowing himself to soften inside the hug that held him tight against her.

"i love you." inhaling her perfume he felt at home. nothing could ever feel like she did. "can't let you go even if i wanted to."

"i love you baby so much." she whispered back.

in that moment, that night as he held her tight against his chest and felt under his hand the rise and fall of her back with every breath he actually prayed to whatever was out there for this to not be a mistake, that forgiving her wouldn't bring him more sorrow.

he prayed to be able to keep hearing their love in the silence that only the darkness in the sky and the late hours of the night can bring to you.

masterlist

taglist: @droppedyourhnd @congratsloserr @rafesbabygirlx @gillybear17 @theoraekenslover @silkylovey @frankoceanluvr11 @ethanthequeefqueen @chiaraanatra @chenslucy @ijustwanttoreadlols

#maybankslover #outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagines #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron x highschool!sweetheart #rafe cameron x girlfriend!reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x fem!reader #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x kook!reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron one shots #rafe cameron imagine

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pompillar · 2 days ago

Text

Surprise I didn't need anyone to ask for it I love pegging and sharing my opinions! So here's wonderwall the ghouls individually with pegging!

(Minors dni plz y'all, respect the boundaries) This can be read as x reader or MC bc I love our girl and she deserves to enjoy herself too

Frostheim

❄️ Jin ❄️

Disaster man. Good fucking luck pal, and by that I mean getting into his room. Have fun arguing with him before he finally gives up and asks you what the fuck you want... wait what??

He's definitely a bit skeptical. It sounds like a lot of work for something he's not actually interested in... but! If you mention that after the set up he doesn't have to do anything and you'll take the lead he might be more inclined.

Man's a bit shaken by how easily you take charge. Dragging him back to his bed and pushing him down. He's been pushed around by a few ladies before who wanted him. He hated it. But... something about the way you're doing it has him feeling something a little different. If you rip the buttons off his shirt when removing it he's going to be flustered, too flustered to even tell you you better replace that.

Jump his fucking bones. Once you finally slip into his well prepped hole he's trying to cover his mouth and keep from making any noise because he wasn't expecting it to feel that good... I think he's very unaware how powerful the prostate is and I wanna see this man get knocked off his pedestal and humbled.

Blushing down to his chest (that pale complexion makes it so easy to see how much he's affected by what you're doing) Also whines so loud when you call him pretty or praise him. If you know how to work your hips you might be able to make him cum hands free. He would be so embarrassed if he did. And you'd have to tell him it's okay, it's hot, it's cute.

Wait you called him cute? *blushing again* He miiiiight hit you up for this another time when he feels like doing the prep again... Let's be real. He's definitely hitting you up again.

♟️ Tohma ♟️

Augh this guy, what's his fucking angle? Not the time for me to mention how irritating I find him on a personal level. You have to track him down before you can ask him anything. That's going to be half the battle at this point. Just text him to meet up in the vault for tea don't waste your time.

What did you need from him? Oh? You wanna peg him? You'll need to tell him way ahead of time. He's a busy man with a very full schedule and a house full of ghouls that should all be on leashes for different reasons.

The definition of topping from the bottom. I'm pretty sure if he's not in control he'll combust. Handles all the prep ahead of time, still taking your clothes off like he's planning to be the one inside you. Does a little strip tease for you when you call him on it. He's sorry, maybe his tantalizing skin will be enough for you to forgive him?

He has one request of you, use one of the toys that has an insertable piece on your end too. He says it's more fun that way but he will 100% activate his stigma when you least expect it to make that thing vibrate like it's a racecar. Snarky bastard just smirks at you when you realize what's happening. Hopefully you can focus on pounding into his tight ass while that thing is buzzing like crazy.

He's also not very loud but he definitely gives you directions, harder, faster, a little more to the left. Very bossy, very smarmy, very rewarding when you finally get him to the breaking point and he has a hard time getting his words together. Oh once he cums he's trying to pull himself together as quickly as possible but you catch the little slip ups in his speech. Bitch you can't hide yourself forever in there, come out of the mental box you're in by choice.

If he's been thoroughly fucked he won't even have the energy to go have a smoke. Let him rest for a while before he has to go back to being the jack of all trades around Frostheim. You will definitely be doing this again if he has any say in it (he has all the say)

⚔️ Lucas ⚔️

This boy... I wasn't expecting to enjoy his so much but he's a sleeper hit.

Luca is a true gentleman, as soon as he hears you have a question for him he's setting aside time just for you. He is nervous as all hell when you mention it, like okay he knows what it is it's not uncommon in England. Has he ever done it? No! I mean not that he's opposed its just not... something he's ever thought of having done to him.

You'd have to guide him with prep and hold his hand through what you'll be doing to him. Even if he thinks it's embarrassing I think he would want you close for every step. He needs someone to be steady as he loses his sense of control.

It's your room hands down, he wouldn't be comfortable at his dorm. Also Kaito would lose his shit if he saw you going into Luca's room at night. Speaking of Luca looks so cute and proper sitting on your bed. Definitely undressing himself to help you. He's not buff but he's muscular for sure. His body is so pretty and you can't help but touch and praise him for it. You know he worked hard for it.

Open him up on your fingers and he will be a whimpering mess. Gripping the sheets and trying to bite his lips to shut himself up. You have to remind him that your dorm is pretty far from prying ears. He won't listen to that, he's too focused on your fingers. Once you slide home inside him though oh my god he's gone. You are hearing the most porn star moans you've ever heard a man make. Rail him. He's such a good pliant boy, you're almost convinced he has hearts in his eyes.

He'll come hard as fuck the first time, head tossed back and gasping for air. Hold him down as he twitches and whines from overstimulation. With how out of it he is it's admirable that he still wants to try and give you your happy ending too. What a sweetheart.

Tells you next time he'll be better prepared and build up a tolerance so he won't cum so fast. Wait, next time? He turns red when you mention it. You'll have to poke and prod him until he tells you he really really liked it. ❤️ Please have him again ma'am.

🏹 Kaito 🏹

You already know this man is down bad. Take him back to your dorm because his ass is not gonna do anything inside that ice castle. Too many chances for embarrassment. Instant over the top reaction, red to the tips of his ears down to his neck. Boy is so chronically online that he genuinely thought most people treated pegging as a joke. Not a chance blondie, get your ass over here.

Sooooo embarrassed he wants to die, refuses help for prepping because he doesn't want you to see that. As if you aren't gonna fuck him stupid anyway. Let him know you're still open to helping if he needs it *wink* Okay don't kill him before you get him to bend over for you!

Very self conscious about his body as he undresses. He's thin, he's not very tall, he's got freckles and let's be honest probably stress acne. Boy is shaking before you even touch him.

Please reassure his nervous ass, he might hyperventilate just seeing your strap. Use a smaller one since he's not gonna be able to handle it the first time. You need to move slow and steady with him. Rub his shoulders and give him kisses and hickies. He needs to know this isn't some weird thing and that you want him because he's Kaito not because he's agreeing to be fucked by you.

As soon as you're in he's sobbing like a baby, not because it hurts, no you made sure it didn't. You fingered him really good. He's just overwhelmed by the intimacy of it. Kaito starts begging you to move, he can't handle the intensity of you sitting still. And he needs you to start fucking him before he goes crazy.

He is sooooooo loud! Like he can't hold back any noise whatsoever. His voice goes so high pitched and whiny. It's so fucking cute. Will pass out after he cums, his vision probably whited out and everything. Take care of him will you?

Just wait a while, he'll come to you like a nervous little bunny asking for it again. You can probably also get him to dress up for you. Kaito is putty in your hands.

Vagastrom

🥊 Alan 🥊

Alaaaaan, ugh, he's so good. You don't have to worry about him being turned off by it. He's open to anything for you. Though he's defintely a little embarrassed by the whole prep deal. He wouldn't tell you he's nervous or anything though. Just grin and bear it. Which is a bad habit of his. You'll need to break that later.

He does come to you with one issue though, he's not small like the other ghouls, he's not pretty like Leo or lean like Sho. Man is worried he isn't the type of guy this activity is made for... oh please prove him wrong.

Your place again, his place has a snooping threat. That's the last thing either of you need. This maaaaan, even kissing he's super careful. Get his gorgeous body out of those clothes and run your hands all over it. He won't let you finger him though... shame, it would have been fun.

Probably won't be able to get him to ride you because he doesn't wanna crush you. But you can absolutely put him in a mating press. Holy fuck this guy is shook. It feels like this? Does it feel like this for you? Does he make you feel this good? He's fighting the raging thoughts running through his pleasure addled brain. So you'll just have to wreck him to turn those pesky thoughts off.

Compliment him the whole time, he's pretty, he's cute, he looks so fucking hot like this. His little choked off moans are adorable. Once he's been fucked to the point he stops trying to control himself you're being treated to the hottest deep throaty noises. (not like a bj guys quit giggling) Make him cry out and beg for more. He's still going to avoid grabbing you despite how much he needs something to hold as he reaches his peak.

Out of it but still wants to make you feel good. His fingers, his tongue, his cock, whatever you want to use to get off. He's all yours. Those words alone might be enough to get you there.

He's going to come to you again when he's gotten too stressed and pent up. Not the usual type he has but super over the boiling point. He needs you to man handle him and make him feel like he's not untouchable or unloveable. Expect this man to be ultra whipped for your strap.

🏍️ Sho 🏍️

Ngggh, this guy is a wild one. Not gonna lie I do love me a biker boy. And a guy who can cook. So anyway! Catch him after the food truck is closed. He'll look amused before you even ask the question, what's he so smug for? Bitch.

Pegging? Alright he's down. Yes it's that easy. Not his first rodeo either. He will tease you and dirty talk your ear off about it though. Senpai~ you want to see him get all cock drunk riding a big strap? Naughty~ Never would have expected you to be so perverted.

You already know he's either coming to yours or getting an R&R permit to take you out to a nice hotel. Somewhere Leo can't follow you and listen in on everything. And you know he would. He'd probably sit outside your window jacking off to it. The creep.

Once you get to the hotel and shower he's back to his usual flirting and teasing. Oh? What are you staring at his chest so hard for? You're surprisingly dirty. Trying to take his towel away with your mind? You just had to ask stupid. *chuckle*

Shut him up with your tongue while you get him stretched, and maybe give his cute ass a few playful swats. He has a very nice ass. It's a shame he rarely shows it off to be honest. If you tug on his hair he'll warn you not to be too rough, can't damage his pretty mane. But give it a nice gentle pull close to his scalp and he'll moan like a slut.

He is absolutely getting on top. Sorry but he likes to ride. He might let you fuck him in other positions but cowboy is definitely his favorite. He's the rider for a reason. And god does he do it well. Rolling his hips like he's on a mechanical bull. His cock bouncing as he whines and moans whenever the strap hits his prostate. Oh but he looks anything but desperate for it, it's slow and sensual until he gets closer.

This show is almost enough to get you off without being touched. It's erotic as hell and you wonder if you should be paying for this. But once he's finished he's eating you out. No ifs ands or buts, you are getting yours too.

He's probably one of the top 5 who come back and ask for you to do it again. Slides you your food and a napkin that says what time and how big of a strap to bring. Winks at you as you walk away.

📱 Leo 📱

Bitch, he's such a bitch, creepy little snoop. What a dick. I just want to see him break and have to live with the fact that an NPC can make him a fucking mess. Tracking him down's not hard. It's the isolating him to ask about it.

You're getting laughed at first and foremost, what makes you think he'd let you anywhere near his ass with a strap on when he doesn't know how well you can use it? He's actually super turned on just thinking about it though. That doesn't mean he won't give you hell over it. He knows he's beautiful and it's hard to resist him but you really are forward. But grab him by the tie and you're shutting him up instantly.

Takes foreverrrrr to prep himself. He's such a diva. Usually set up doesn't take ten hours Leo! Once you have him back with you it's game on. He's all talk and it shows, a single finger is enough for him to start whimpering. Loud, loud loud loud! King whiner. No other ghoul can outwhine him. And it sounds so good.

Make him take it face down ass up, he's going to scream if you use a really big one. (even his screams sound good fuck this guy) But trust, he's not letting you use a small one. He is begging you to fuck him like you mean it with that thick strap. The size queen demands it fast and hard and really big.

You better praise him, he's not doing this for himself! (liar) Oh the second you start calling him pretty or good boy he's grinding back and mewling like a bitch. At this point you might need to muzzle him. He 100% screams when he cums. If you edge him he's gonna call you a whore, I'm sorry, he's not.

Even if he's an asshole you should still clean him up and give him water afterwards. He's already trying to go back to being bitchy. Typical Leo.

You'll be getting a few passive aggressive texts insinuating that you clearly want to do this again. Bonus: if you set up a camera and show the footage to him later he'll actually be speechless and fully hard in under a minute.

Jabberwock

🐰 Haru 🐰

I wanna love him so bad but I have trust issues with characters that have those always closed eyes... Another good luck situation, have fun getting him alone, no Peekaboo, and when he's not busy. On the bright side he's all ears about what you wanted to ask him.

This man? You wanna peg this bean sprout? The one obssessed with ass and overworking himself and ass? Huh. I mean he won't deny he's intrigued. He does love a good ass and he has a pretty decent one if he says so himself. And he does. Anyway! He'll do the hard part of prep first. And find someone to watch the animals properly (Towa... Ren... *i'm watching you gesture*)

Take him back to your dorm to avoid scarring anyone, or sowing jealously into the other Jabberwock boys. (It's okay guys your turn is next!)

As soon as you get him in bed he's doing everything he can to please you. And that's not where this is going sir, sorry. You will have to force him onto his back and tell him that you're in charge tonight and that he needs to just lay back, relax, and enjoy.

Squirms so much because he can't be still. Put his acrobat body to good use and fold him in half, his legs quite literally go up to his ears. It's impressive to be honest. You can also tease him with his own prosthetic arm, he'll be getting overheated and that usually stays fairly cool. Make him jack himself off while you fuck him like a rabbit. The temperature difference will leave him dizzy.

Oh he's also loud, he can't help it. You're treating him so good, making his head go blank, calling him nice things and rearranging his guts. He might be in love after seeing the reverent face you're making at him. Twitches a lot when he cums, and it's a lot too. Probably nails himself in the chin with it.

Clean him up and put him under the covers. He's yours. Expect to wake up being the big spoon, dressed in yours pjs and him in his, him holding Peekaboo. (Bastard went back late last night because he couldn't handle one night without his round boy) This will probably be a lot of your mornings after this kind of night with him. Just know he's going to be your cute little service top/service bottom/service anything you want from now on. Call him any time!

🌻 Towa 🌻

Fairy prince ass, goat eyed brat. What a demonic little angel. He's so difficult to write well. Hopefully this is good for the Towa girlies.

This is a tough one to be honest. Clearly you have to talk to him about it at night or somewhere dark. Because humming and grumbling aren't going to cut it for this discussion. Once you explain it's something you want to do to show him how much you love him he's sold.

Make sure you explain things have to be done first before you get into this. Otherwise he's going to try and do it right now. Pouts but listens to you. He's also down to do it anywhere. Literally anywhere. Does not care what animal gets an eyeful. You decide it's best to take him to your dorm.

He does need help getting himself prepped, or so he says. You think it's just an excuse to watch your concentrated face as you finger him while he whines and bucks his hips against your hand. Also kissing you every five seconds. It's hard to avoid getting into a liplock with this guy. He's also very give and take so expect to get fingered yourself as he's being stretched.

You will be facing each other. He won't have it any other way. He needs eye contact and easy access to kiss you. Play with his dick while you fuck him nice and slow and he'll make pretty little melodic noises. Likes to trap you against him by locking his legs behind you.

Playing with you the whole time, groping your ass to bring you closer? Yup. Massaging your tits and rolling your nipples? Absolutely. If you get close enough it's quite literally an 'awful brave for someone within kissing distance' situation.

He will try to make you cum with him. Whatever it takes. If you don't he's going to handle you instantly after he cums. Pouts during clean up because you aren't cuddling yet. Cuddles are inevitable, goodbye to anything you planned to do later.

Dandelion play with him again soon! Teach him more things he can do to show you his love! ❤️

🎮 Ren 🎮

Ah, angry tsundere, classic flavor, love it every time. You're getting an earful. All of which is just Ren spitting venom because he's scared. He hates intimacy as is and you want to what?! You want to put a fake dick in his ass. Does he look like a little twitch streamer femboy with an onlyfans?! Not gonna happen!

You have to build some trust before going into this. He's emotionally compromised. Man has had some shit happen to him to become such a reclusive jumpy little wet cat of a man. After some gentle convincing and persuation you find out he's actually been researching it himself. He may or may not have already prepped... shut up he's not cute for being smart about it! He isn't blushing!

Once you herd this porcupine into bed he's way more nervous. He seems like he'll sprint away the second he gets spooked. But he's being good for you, don't tease him or he might actually run. Kiss him and give him lots of praise. He'll be red in the face the entire time.

His body is cute, lanky but actually pretty well maintained. Will tell you to stop staring and get on with it. Okay spiky relax, and breathe out while you push into his stretched hole.

Oh he's biting his lip raw trying to stay quiet as you fuck him. It wasn't supposed to be this good. You keep dragging your strap over that spot that makes him see stars. His eyes are watering and he tries to avoid eye contact.

He's crying once you speed up and give it to him harder. But you know it's not pain. No he's just getting the fucking of a lifetime. Whiny whiny whimpering whiner. If he's still able to speak it's insults. Just answer them with praise and he'll shut up quick. He gets really loud the closer to his orgasm he gets, full on ahegao face. Of course he would have one. Fucking nerd.

Aftercare is a movie and cuddling in his bed. He's still blushing hours later unable to believe he just let you do that. That being said... when are you free next? No he just wants to show you a new movie series! Quit grinning you perv!

Sinostra

🎲 Taiga 🎲

Not gonna lie this bastard is who I downloaded the game for... his appearance is so my type. It's unfortunate that his personality repelled me like bug spray. But I still find him a neat little weirdo.

First off, I commend you for your bravery. This jackass depends entirely on mood. I say this with all the love in my heart but he's the cats on my cat from hell that couldn't be helped in human form... humanish... anywho!

He's impressed you have the guts to ask him this. Sure! Could be fun if you're any good at it. If you aren't... well he's probably going to shoot you. So make it worth his while kitty cat!

You have no idea if he even understands how to do prep work. Not one of the questions he answered. Hopefully he does his due diligence. He will act like it was such a pain though. So you really have to perform to a high degree here. He's already a little annoyed by the fuss of it and you have a brain to keep from being splattered on the wall.

You don't have to do much, he's already naked and lazily jacking off when you arrive. Grumbles that it took you long enough and to hurry up and get over here. It's like less than three minutes before you sink your strap into him and he groans in relief.

Do him rough, up against the wall, face down on his bed, hell you could fuck him on the probably expensive fur rug on the floor, he'll be for it. If you manage to do something he doesn't like he'll let you know. Immediately.

Will push you into the torture chair and ride you while cackling. If he's feeling generous he might have a dildo you could ride while he rides you. You will be bitten. Position be damned you will be bitten so fucking much. You'll look like a school of cookie cutter sharks attacked you.

His eyes roll back when he cums, and boy is it a hell of a peak. Still giggling like he's drunk off pleasure as he comes down. You aren't getting away from being his pillow after giving him a good time. Just be prepared to explain who you are in the morning. Probably wanna put your name in his phone as kitty cat so he knows who to text when he wants to have fun again.

🪞 Romeo 🪞

Oh mister high and mighty of noble birthings. I flipflop between wanting this man to choke and wanting to choke him personally. So how does he take the question? About as well as he takes anything with his insanely high blood pressure. Who do you think you are you BB?! You aren't anywhere near important enough to handle him like that! This will launch into his usual acronym infused tirade so take a seat and wait it out. He'll get tired eventually.

That being said I have a feeling he's used to prep work and keeps himself clean frequently. I mean he's got to be ready for anything and that means whatever he gets up to with Hyde. Oh and don't bother bringing anything, after you mentioned it he got a custom leather harness made for you. He has designer dildos, toys and lube already. Take your pick and see if he approves.

If you have the guts to ask he might even wear some pretty high end lingerie. Wine colored lace looks sooooo good on his skin tone and he knows it. He even puts on a little make up to match it. The picture of perfection and sin sprawled out on his uber expensive sheets when you show up.

You're late, quit wasting his time. If you don't give him a good time he will be pissed. Insults are thrown as per usual so time to show Romeo that Juilet is in charge here. And oh is he down for that. He's a pillow prince. Why should he have to do any of the work? He's already prepped himself and given you the opportunity to fuck him.

He's pretty sensitive though, it doesn't take much to get him going, I mean he was already half hard when you showed up. Flip him on his stomach and you see why, a cute gemstone that matches his eyes is nestled between his cheeks. He is actively taking some of the fun out of it. But the sounds he makes when you slowly pull the plug out are worth it. His well stretched hole is on display and ready for the taking. Yells at you to quit gawking and get on with it! You defintely see his neck is red from embarrassment.

Once you get the, actually super comfy, harness on and pick a toy to use it's game over. Have him on his back so you can see his face, grab his wrists and hold them close to your body. He's already moaning like it's the best thing he's ever had. Work your hips fast and make him beg for more. He's loud but it's actually a very pretty sound now.

If he cums on his expensive lingerie expect complaints. But that's only his cover to hide how blissed out and affected he is. He's a sweaty mess so you're absoluttely setting a bath for him. It better have bubbles too. And wine. Pamper him properly afterwards and he'll be calling you over at night pretty frequently. Bonus: You should ask to fuck him in the cage in his auction hall. The prettiest birds deserve the best cages right?

⚖️ Ritsu ⚖️

Jeez, okay this guy is something else. I have a hard time choosing for him. He's adorkable but his lawyer passion is just beyond me most days. Regardless, he probably doesn't know what you're talking about. Will ask you to give him time to research what you're asking him for. You get several texts later to the effect of '?????? Did you misspeak? Is this spelled differently? Hello?????' It's okay you can laugh now before you see him again. Don't laugh at his flushed face when you do see him. It's going to make him second guess himself.

That being said you should absolutely tease him by asking about how his research went. He informs you while his cheeks are red that he thoroughly checked the term and it's origins etc. Including videos... you should 100% ask to watch the ones he found later on. He agrees but you have to sign this pape- smooch him to avoid signing an NDA. He'll be quiet for a bit and tell you that he does need some time still and will give you a date and time for your after hours leisure time...

On the afformentioned day and time he will show up to your room looking cool as a cucumber despite how nervous he is. He's going into this like he's in charge. Helping you undress and folding his clothes to the side like a cute little house hubby. He's still trying to be the dominant one but his face turns very red again when he sees the toy and harness.

Time to show him who's actually in charge here. Be gentle working him open with your fingers, he's going to burst from embarrassment. (Or use Acimo and make it impossible to do anything further) Unsure what he's meant to do at this point and too embarrassed to ask. You need to tell him to relax and enjoy it.

Once you get your strap in you see the absurd calculations going on behind his wide eyes and red face. Please don't let him start on whatever wild theory he's about to extrapolate. Roll your hips slow and watch his thoughts disappear as he grabs onto your shoulders and gasps like he's been scandalized. He has to lean back and let you do the work because he's feeling too good. This was expected from his research but experiencing it is a totally different thing.

Whimpering so loud when he cums. Another one who is very duty bound and wants to give you an orgasm too. But he's too far out of it. I think he might honestly be in sub space after that. Clean him up and cuddle him close to your chest. (Personally I think he has mommy issues so he needs to be cradled in your bosom)

You'll be hearing from him again, it's going to be the most awkward proposal for sex you've ever heard but it's cute how he's trying to not show how badly he wants it again.

Hotarubi

🪭 Subaru 🪭

Delicious dichotomy man. Oh he's a fun character to pick apart. Concerning but still draws you in. There's so many variables... so many different interpretations... I digress there's so many ways I could write this one. But here we go!

Instantly flustered, covering his mouth and glancing away. Stammering nervously about how improper that would be. Secretly he's thrilled to bits that you've asked him such a thing. If he's getting hard under the tea table there's no outward proof on his perfectly tuned face. If you're to the point where you can see past it just tell him to think on it and you'll be back another day.

You defintely need to ask Zenji and Haku to clear out. Zenji because he could just wander in and Haku... I don't put voyeurism past him. Man's a bit depraved ya know. Anyway once that's taken care of find Subaru waiting in the secluded tea room for you. You've been talking over text about this because it gave Subaru the confidence (cough cough the freedom to openly grin and giggle like a sicko /affectionate cough cough) and agree.

He's waiting in a beautiful white kimono with pastel hydrangea patterns, something gorgeous and innocent looking. What's underneath is anything but, he's only wearing a cock ring that's made to mimic a strand of pearls. As he slowly leans back and unties the kimono to show you his little ensemble his blushing face is cracking a bit. He's too into it already, his mask is crumbling enough to show the curve of a grin on his lips.

Devour him. Absolutely debauch this man, leave hickies all down his neck and collarbones. He'll get to see all the flithy things you want to do with him as soon as he so much as grazes your skin. Gasping and letting out pretty breathy sounds as you work your hand on his equally pretty cock. But that's not what you're here for right now. No it's lower, you'll find he's already slick with lube and stretched quite well. Purr into his ear about how good he is or how dirty he is and he'll whine. He likes praise but also being degraded a bit? Pervert.

Take him against the tatami or the wall, hell bend him over the tea table. Subaru is into it, feeling you rut into him like you've never been this turned on before. Mark him up with your hands, your mouth, dig your nails into his hips and listen to him moan like a whore. He needs the reminders for later when he's alone again. Not that he'll be forgetting this anytime soon but tangible marks are hotter.

Cries out like he's singing when you finally remove the cock ring and let him cum. It's an angelic sound but you know he's not even close. He is definitely in need of a rest after that fucking. Laze about on the tatami with him. He'll try to recover soon and bring you tea and snacks. Keyword try. You'll probably need to be the one to get the refreshments. His hips are sore and he's half hard already from the way his hole aches.

This guy is fiending for it immediately. Obssessed with your strap game. Expect to be seeing a lot of the Subaru behind the mask. He needs you to ruin him more and more. Please mistress?

📿 Haku 📿

Ohohoho I've been waiting to get to him. Pervert. Fucking degenerate. Slut. He's perfect. He's a disaster. Can he keep it in his pants? Do we want him to? He will 100% flip it on you the second you bring it up. Pegging? Oh princess you like a little give and take? Color him intrigued. If you need pointers on the technique he can give you a lesson on the best ways to thrust your hips. Oh but you would be on the receiving end of that. Hopefully that still works to teach you?

Give him a day or two to get himself ready, he's teasing you the whole time though. Texting you about how much work this is for you but he doesn't mind if you promise you'll take good care of him. Might send you a pic of some of his own personal toy collection asking which one you want to use on him. I will not lie some of them are fairly large. And a few of them are less than human... Haku why do you have a knotted dildo... Whore.

Last text and pic you get before you see him is him tugging his uniform shirt to the side to show off a peek of red rope with this, "ready when you are princess" When you get your hands on him, oooooh boy! That tease is in for it. Rip that shirt right off of him and admire the beautiful intricate ropework he managed to tie himself into. Nothing that would restrict him from moving but it's very fashion statement the way it's done.

Kiss him hard, bruise, bite and suck on his bottom lip until he's holding himself back from humping your thigh. Steal his breath away by marking him up around the ropes, tease and bite his nipples. (headcanon that he has them pierced) He moans so much when you tug the bars between your teeth. He's a bit of a masochist.

Another one who's plugged and ready for you. His plug is a bit longer though, one with the tapered spheres. He shivers as you slowly remove the toy and berate him for taking away the joy of working him open yourself. He chuckles and says next time he'll let you have the honor. Oh he isn't ready for how hard you decide to fuck him. Put the first dildo you like the looks of in the harness and go to town on his ass. He's loud, so fucking loud you need to shove your fingers in his mouth to quiet him. Haku sucks on your fingers like it's a cock, laving his tongue all over them. Tease.

You can fuck him however you want. He takes it like a champ and archs his back like a professional whore. When he cums it's not a lot, probably due to the rope that winds around the base of his cock and balls but it's just enough to keep him partially hard. It's multiple rounds for sure. Wreck him.

Aftercare is bringing him out of sub space and untying the rope. There's so many marks from it you're going to be rubbing ointment into his red skin for a while. He's defintely not letting you use it on any hickies or bites you left. He wants those as trophies for surviving the devouring princess. You swat his ass for the remark and watch his body shiver... Oh he's doomed, the look on his face tells you he knows it and you grin.

Regular texts from him asking you to come mess him up. Always ready when you arrive. Maybe you should start calling him princess...

📜 Zenji 📜

King of poetry, feminism and big dick energy. Yes I'm using the usual cop out of he's corporeal sorry I am not trying to figure out how to peg a ghost today that's more mental skill than I have right now. This guy is yours for the taking doll. Pegging has been around a long time and he's no stranger to the term. He will admit he's not really thought about it being done to him though he's willing to give it a try for you.

Benefits of ghosthood: No need to do any cleaning of the self! Downside of ghosthood with Zenji: He still has a schedule to keep for his writing and his videos. Who'd have thought he would be this active beyond the grave? You'll have to give him a time to get down so it doesn't conflict with his creative flow. I mean other than that he's free whenever you are.

Heading back to the secluded tea house because his dear little brother doll can't hear this! He's waiting there with a pen and paper, dropping everything when you show up to do his usual exuberant greeting. Despite knowing what's happening he's oozing confidence. You had hoped to see him a little nervous but he's so happy to please you it doesn't phase him. As soon as you start undressing he just poofs his clothes gone. Ghost powers are so annoyingly convenient. And wow the big dick energy was not wrong.

You'll be lazily touching and kissing on the floor for a while. Long drawn out foreplay is the only way Zenji likes to do it. It should be sensual and loving. Slow handjobs and his fingers playing with you. Wait don't get swept up in his easy loving, you have something to do here.

Minimal stretching required to be honest, probably ghost stuff. But he's singing your praises the whole time, telling you how that felt good, higher, a little bit to the right, no dear his right. Tells you how beautiful you look as you put on your harness and push into him, it definitely makes him groan halfway through his words. Pulling you impossibly closer as you slowly rock into him.

He thinks you look dashing like this, taking control, using him in a way he didn't think of. Kissing and touching you the entire time. You guys aren't going fast until you get closer. Then he starts to make noise instead of running his pretty mouth. Moaning, whining, that lovely voice of his is low and melodic. Damn you might cum without needing to touch yourself if he keeps singing for you like this.

When he comes it's loud and he's clinging to you like a lifeline. So many kisses and so much babbling about how beautiful you are and how much he loves you. God he's so sweet. He's also immediately onboard to get you off. Which doesn't take long for him and those skilled fingers and that crooning voice begging you to tip over the edge. This man is dangerous with a capital D.

Expect to be lounging around with him after the fact for a while, lazy kisses and dozing off to the sound of the rain while he grabs his pen and paper to begin writing with his new found inspiration. You'll be doing this again for sure.

Obscuary

⚰️ Edward ⚰️

Damn this man, he's a mess. Literally. This guy is a pain to deal with normally but this is gonna be a whole other story. He's gonna throw out a bunch of bullshit the second you approach him about it. What are you talking about, love? He's old you have to spell it out for him. Hmm? You know staking is supposed to be to the heart right? He's infuriating, just tell him to be ready next time you show up.

That said you should give Rui and Lyca a heads up to clear out for the night. Rui might be clenching his fists but he's dragging Lyca away for you, he gets it. Lyca not so much. It's okay, Rui has your back. You should have the whole dorm to yourselves for the night.

When you arrive he's where he always is. Laying in bed with his laptop. Fuck that thing. You pause that video and shut it. He looks sad for a split second before you descend upon him and kiss his stupid pretty face. He hums into your kisses, caressing your neck as he pulls your body over his own. You'll get lost in the process of undressing him and yourself with all the heady kisses. Why is this guy a vampire and not an incubus?

Apparently because of his diet he doesn't need to clean himself either. But the prep and stretching is harder. You know, lack of blood makes the body work less than optimal. Sorry not sorry, you're going to be working his ass open for a while. The whole time he's staring into your soul or nipping at your ear. Husky voice whispering sugary words. Asking if he can have just a taste of your blood. Not tonight Satan.

Man's not a pillow prince. He's a whole pillow king. You will be doing all the work. Which is fine. You expected this. I mean look at who you're fucking. You knew. Speaking of he lets you hear his moans openly and without any hint of embarrassment. Fucking into him slow and steady has every little breath ending with a gasp or a groan. His voice sounds so much better when it's just crying out for you.

You could probably try to change position but he prefers seeing your face. He would make it impossible to move his body if you did anything he didn't want to do. His only movements look choreographed to be honest. Like he could star in a triple A budget porn film the way he sounds and rolls his body. The years of experience do him well.

When he cums it's very little, liquid is too precious for them to waste there. He's biting you, you're going to kill him... as soon as your body stops cumming. As you try to yell he quiets you and tells you he isn't turning you, he just needed to top up what he lost in your little tryst. Unless you wanted to be like him. He could arrange that. Smack him wherever you see fit he's just going to laugh.

He'll send you emoji filled texts later about how he would love to have you on top of him again soon. Don't keep him waiting too long dear. He's an old man remember?

🧤 Rui 🧤

Oh Rui, sweet darling Rui. (As per one of my theories this will reflect the idea that the kyklos is strong enough to repel or nullify other curses (ie. oui c'est bon) and thusforth Rui can touch us without his curse affecting us.) This man is king of being touch starved. One of the top three for sure. He's already elated and just so grateful he can even hug us at this point. Hand holding? Smooches? This is his dream come true. Sure it only works on us but right now that's enough for him. A break from having to be guarded at all times. Being touched by someone is something he's missed so so so bad.

Turn the tables when you breach this topic, he'll blush if you hook your finger into the ring shaped pendant he usually wears and tug him close. A bit startled by you asking for sure, he didn't think you'd be into that. No he's not saying he won't do it. Just surprised. His favorite girl is naughtier than he thought. Give him a night and he'll get everything ready for you. Do you have the supplies? Does he need to bring something? Just ask!

Next time you see him he's opted to come to you. He used to be in Clementia after all, the cathedral is his old haunt. Plays it so cool the whole time but he's practically vibrating with excitement. Has an overnight bag and everything. Uses your bathroom to freshen up before he joins you on the bed and falls into making out as easy as breathing.

God he missed kissing. But you make it better. Drawing gasps and grunts from him when you palm his body through the four layers he wears. Stripping him feels like opening a matryoska. But he looks so handsome shirtless, and slightly out of place. You can see he's not used to it anymore. Wearing all those layers has made him a bit shy without them. Worship his chest and remind him that he's gorgeous. Oh his nipples are sensitive. 100% moaning so loud when you suck on them.

By the time you get him undressed he's completely red and panting, cock hard and throbbing, leaning towards his stomach with how aroused he is. It's been a while okay? Give him a break. And break him. Make him sob with pleasure as you finger his loosened hole and watch him thrust his hips against you. Damn you might get him to cum with just your fingers at the rate he's going.

Watches you with loving eyes as you get your strap on and cage him in with your arms. He cums as soon as you put it in. When you try pulling out he stops you with a grip on both wrists. You can't be satisfied yet right? Come on. Keep going. Fuck him like you mean it. His dirty mouth earns him a rough thrust and he throws his head back with a moan.

He asked for it so he has to deal with it. Fucking him into full blown overstim mode, tears at the corners of his eyes as he whimpers and wails for more even though he's cum once already. You'll get at least three out of him. He's a flustered red mess by the third one but he's nothing if not a pleaser. Grabs you by the hips, despite his shaky hands, tugs off your harness and makes you sit on his face. He's gasping for air still as he eats you out in a dizzy haze. Might try to get multiple out of you too.

Once you're both satisfied he's thanking you in a low, almost reverent tone like you're his goddess who bestowed blessings upon him. Remind him with kisses and cuddles that you're not doing this for him, but because you want him too. He'll be on speed dial any time you wanna do this again. And he's down for anything so don't be afraid to tie him up or dress him up or spank him. He's down bad y'all he will thank you for literally ANYTHING you do to him.

🌕 Lyca 🌕

Prepare for the confusion first and foremost. Super eager to learn what it is that you want. When you explain he looks like a dog with its' hackles raised. Wide eyes, ears and tail out, going back and forth between turning red and going pale in the face. Gaping like a fish, the whole nine yards. Man is shooketh. Home boy out here calling this an affront against nature. Can't even stop himself from saying that won't make babies.

You will need to damage control, if he goes to Subaru you will never live this down. If he goes to Rui you'll absolutely never live it down for a whole other reason. So time to soothe the beast and hunker down in your room with some library books and get to teaching him that sex isn't just for reproduction. This will be several sessions and weeks after first confrontation before he finally warms up to the idea.

If he weren't such an I'm tough and fuzzy type of guy he'd be a shaking leaf in your room once it's time. Speaking of you had to walk him through clean up and prep so he's already a little frazzled from that. Be extra gentle with him. Start soft and kiss him sweetly. His tail is wagging... don't call attention to it or he'll pout.

Once you've got him comfortable again you can take the plunge into stretching him. He whimpers, whimperer supreme over here. Bluntly tells you it feels like a sh- Lyca shh! That's not appropriate for sexy time. He's going to hide his face as much as possible.

Getting your gear on is where you see him second guessing again. Take a short break to remind him that it's okay. You just wanna try this. If he doesn't like it then you'll stop. He loves that about you. That you take his feelings into consideration. Cuddle for a bit before you get back into it.

He will lift his hips and wiggle them when you ask if it's okay to fuck him now. It's not fair how cute it looks with his tail wagging but how sexy it is with the way his cock sways. Sliding in has him shivering, give him a minute to figure out how he feels. It'll surprise you when he starts grinding back and panting, gruffly begging you to move.

Fuck him slow but hard and you'll have a tamed werewolf boy in no time. When he realizes he's making all these noises he's going to bite your pillow. I'm sorry say goodbye to that one it's done for. If he can't get a hold of a pillow or your sheets he's going to bite his lips bloody. Closer to him cumming you're going to notice his tongue hanging out and cries of your name. It's so cute, you'll have to pamper him after he comes down.

Pet his hair and tell him what a good boy he was. He's stealing your blankets and pouting for a bit. Bring him a snack and some water and then he'll beg for cuddles. Kiss his nose and tell him how proud you are of him. Try not to spit your drink out when Rui mentions how interesting Lyca's new full moon strategy of having you hold him down all night is...

Mortkranken

💉 Yuri 💉

Yessssss I have been waiting for this little brat. (/loving) He's soooo... pathetic wet cat, but also very holier than thou. This is an interesting flavor of tsundere that is a personal favorite of mine. So diving right in. Screeching. Instant halt to everything he's doing and screeching about wh-wh-wh-wh-what are you saying?!?!?!?!?!? Are you insane?!?! How dare you even think about doing such a thing with him!!!! He's so red it makes his hair look florescent. Remind your brilliant doctor that it's not that far from a prostate exam and that he shouldn't neglect his own health. Get out of his lab you worm! -Screamed with all the command of a tiny angry kitten.

Guess who texts you later in the day with a time and day and haughty tone to his words? One Dr. Isami of course. It might not be until later in the week but you have it. He is a very busy man after all. Take the opportunity to plan how to take him apart.

The night comes sooner than you expected and you get treated to a very special house call. He's red in the face before you even let him in the door. Drag him in by the tie and push him onto your soft clean bed. He'll sputter and try to argue until you drop into his lap and start attacking his lips and jaw and ears and neck. He gets overwhelmed by the frantic pace and babbles between kisses. It's easy to tell that he's already hard just from that.

Strip him down and watch the blush go down to his chest, the shivering nervous wreck of a man before you is the total opposite of his usual self assured persona. Praise him for how pretty he looks, trying to hide his erection with his hands. Push those away before you get tempted to tie them up.

Slipping into your harness and putting the strap on into it you see his eyes follow your every move. Fear and something much hotter hiding in those teal eyes. Don't expect high energy positions from him. You do have to take the lead here or nothing will happen. Man handle him into whatever position you want and work yourself into him. He's gasping and grabbing your shoulders, pulling you close as he bites his lip.

Please kiss him a lot while he adjusts to the intrusion. Distract him and mark his collarbone with your teeth and tongue. He'll be halfway to drooling before you even fuck him. And when you do oh boy. Breathy little noises are being punched out of him with every thrust, he refuses to let you move away, his body curled around yours desperately.

Yuri will be crying, full on sobs. You know it's not pain so you just need to keep fucking him until he pops. He's loud loud, man is moaning and crying and gasping when he cums like it's the most earth shattering orgasm he's ever had. It probably is actually, his toes are curled and everything. Exhausted, he is not gonna be able to help you. But that's okay. If anything you know he'll be getting a solid night's sleep now. Tuck him into your bed with you and hold him close until morning.

Don't worry about the schedule you get after a week, giving you days and times to meet him, calculated perfectly for an optimized amount of sleep for him. (He needs you to ruin his pretty hole again he just won't admit it) ❤️

🩻 Jiro 🩻

MY MAIN MAN!!! Woo!!! (also finish line in sight aaaaaa) Lanky tin man ass. Love him so much. Now it's so simple with Jiro. He clearly thinks about it for a minute before agreeing. But you have to get Yuri to allow you to steal his vice captain for a night. His medication has to be taken around whatever plans you're trying to make. The last thing you need is to call Yuri over in the middle of it because of a flare up in his condition.

Talk to Yuri later, it's suspiciously easy to get him to lend you Jiro. He also seems to be avoiding direct eye contact. Jiro said something he didn't need to you're sure of it. Anyway, your plans are made and it's time to get to it.

Jiro is a medical professional. He cleaned and prepped himself thoroughly, and if asked he will tell you with all the technical terms included. You think you see a slight smirk as he watches the look on your face change into slight disturbance. When you get him to the bed it's easy to push him down. Undress him yourself unless you want it to take forever. Take special care of his glasses as you set them aside. He'll comment that it's hard to see like this. It's okay, you have him.

Trace his scars and kiss them as you go, he'll shiver and ask you why you think that's necessary. Hush Jiro, it's foreplay and you're hot. Grunts a lot as you continue worshipping his body and stealing his oxygen with your kisses. He wonders when you'll get on with it. Alright you pushy fiend. Time to strap on and strap in.

As soon as you push in he's got an arm around you, keeping you close enough to kiss. With how tall he is it means you've got his legs pushed up, hopefully his body can handle it for a bit. It can, and he isn't about to let you go. Grunts and lets out hot little breathy noises more than anything. If he didn't rock back against you you'd be unsure if he was actually enjoying this or not. Oh trust he's into it. He doesn't really like being in control so this is perfect for him.

That being said he won't do nothing and let you have all the fun. He's still trying to keep kissing you and tugging you down to nip at your lips. Seems like fucking him has made him more outwardly affectionate. He'll probably tell you that it was some hormonal state later. Whatever you say beautiful. Just keep moaning for me.

Jerk him off in time to your hips and you'll have him cumming in no time. His o-face is so pretty you'll want to see it again and again. But not something you're able to do right now. As you go to clean him up he'll exhert some energy you didn't know he had to pull you in and finger you until you cum. Those long fingers are so dexterous and he knows all the spots he needs to hit.

And now you're trapped in the bear hug. Post coital Jiro wants one thing and one thing only and that's skin to skin contact with you. When you wake up he's gone back to Mortkranken for his medicine but he sent you a text about how he enjoyed it and Yuri says his vitals are looking nice this morning. So you'll have to run this experiment again soon to see if these results are related or not. You just know he had that little smile on his face when he constructed that excuse to get you to rail him again.

---

PS pouring one out for @kykloss who inspired me to finish this but deactivated a few days ago, you would have loved this shit my dear.

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coolwyous · 1 day ago

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Ok, hear me out: SpiderMeg.

chat be honest is there a spidermeg fic already out there..... bc if not i may start thinking villainous thoughts..... for now this is where my head is at!!

she's old fashioned and hates bluetooth, she much prefers wired headphones plugged into her phone, always blasting her favorite song "time to pretend" by MGMT. she saves you a spot on the bus when you guys head to your internship together at the same labcorp office, and she's always offering you a banana or something with a cute little fun fact to go with it. "you'll cramp if you don't get enough potassium, did you know the kind of potassium in bananas actually makes them mildly radioactive? but it's not enough to kill us, 'cause humans are pretty strong, but oh speaking of strong, can you believe how strong spider silk is?" and you laugh and have to remind her that she's rambling again, as she always tends to do. she's dorky, as she always has been, and you sort of love how clueless she is when it comes to interactions with other people. what you don't know about your favorite sweet, dorky megan, is that she admires you, and she has no clue how to take your friendship any further than that, but it's not exactly clear that she'd have time to do so anyways— as soon as the shift at the internship is over, she's swinging through the city in that iconic red suit, a mental map in her head of the place where she's grown up and a chip on her shoulder to keep it safe. she webs bad guys up with her dumb little brainrotted one liners ("respectfully, your villain arc is mid at best, bro") and does what she can to give back to the community. she ends every night shift with a quick visit past your window, always making sure your neighborhood is safe and sound before making it back to her own place, off to tinker with another device to make her vigilanteism even easier. she's undeniably awkward when you ask her why her hand is all wrapped up ("oh, you should see the other guy. that'll teach my stupid shower to be so slippery, really taught him a lesson") or why she's wincing in pain when you two are on your lunch break ("i think i might be allergic to only seeing you once a day, that's crazy") but you always chalk it up to megan, dorky, goofy megan, just being an awkward person. you could never, in a million years, imagine that this girl is the sweeping hero that has saved so many lives in the span of just a few months. (bonus: reader's dad is the editor in chief of the daily bugle and hates spidermenace w a burning passion <3)

#☆ﾟ meg thoughts.

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mourning-sapphire · 2 days ago

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oh my gosh, thank you 😭

she is our petal but she's also going to be our [spoiler] ;), id love to say that aemond is just gonna swoon for her (because who wouldnt) but that man isnt going to be the nicest for the first few chapters lmao

i really wanted to show both sides of the story for both of them; since one is trying to make a terrible situation work even though its changed her life completely, and the other is so reclutant to get married now for so many reasons that its turned him hateful towards someone he's never met! especially since she's been removed from her home, the place she's find her peace, and especially since her marrying a prince was just not on the cards - its not like she ever had time to prepare! i wanted that longing for home to trail on

who knows how it ends (actually i do) but maybe they can get to a point where make love in the grass and eat succulant fruit in the sun of the Arbor, gods knows they need it! you'll finally know why its called bruised fruit hehe

im a glutton for punishment, and this story is about to get hellish (in a good way) other players are going to enter the frey, and the lead up to the wedding is going to be rough, Aemond has his work cut out for him and our petal is about to get whiplash like never before ;)

thank you so much for your kind words, it means a ton, and im so glad you loved the first chapter!! <3

bruised fruit | aemond targaryen | chapter one

Summary: he wasn’t the warmest man on earth, he walked ashed fields and scattered fruitless seeds, that was until the sun delivered him the ripest fruit from the arbor, his to harvest. The story of a man learning to love his saccharine ladywife and all her softness.

Pairing: aemond targaryen x redwyne!reader

Chapter warnings: none really, some harsher swearing, descriptions of panic, some description of boats.

Word count: 12.6k

authors note: I literally have read this so many times, if there's a mistake you'll live okay, love u enjoy :P

masterlist | next part

Some could mistake the sunlight that patterned through the shutters of the small council room as a sign for a glorious day in Kings Landing, a sign from the Gods that this would be magnificent and bright. But, Aemond could only look into his mother’s eyes that morning with a feeling of helplessness.

But Aemond could not see it that way. Not as he sat across from his mother, her eyes steady and sad, her mouth drawn in a line of reluctant resolve. The sunlight only seemed to mock him, casting its warmth over a moment that felt anything but.

This was not a sign from the Gods, this was an act of mental warfare on him.

Exactly 2 moons into the new year, the air of the Red Keep was chilled like the cold defeat in her eyes as she told him exactly what he didn’t want to hear.

“Aemond,” Her sigh was weary as he sat across from her at the small council table, the vapid gaggle that was lords of the council surrounding them as she looked at him with a plea to understand, “I understand this isn’t an easy feat, but...” He cut her off with a scoff.

He was usually soft to his mother, one of the only women in his life who saw past the marred skin and leathered exterior. Aemond was usually the dotting son and the only one who did everything she asked, bent to her sad eyes and long silences. But as this moment hung over them, he wasn’t sure he could afford her the luxury of doing this.

“But what?” His voice was chilled as the stones outside, chipped but still strong, “You wish to move me like a piece on your board? to what prevails exactly, your own liberty?” His eye was wide as it flicked between them.

The nervous demeanour of his mother and the ever-cool stoicism of his grandsire; Aemond was tempting them to utter the words everyone knew was on the tips of their tongue.

To one day help make Aegon king instead of your sister…

At that moment, he was happy he kept the majority of the council on his blindside, just so he wouldn’t need to see their loathsome faces as he stood his lonely ground. He hated all the self-righteous cunts anyway.

“It is your duty to marry, lest I remind you,” His grandsire cut in, Otto Hightower; ever the family man and doting peacekeeper of the keep in the king’s sickness, “Your duty to your house and your family.”

Aemond was sure in that moment that he could feel the chilly hands of the winter sky wrap their fingers around his neck, as his grandsire commanded the room with an ease that only a viper could.

“She’s a nice girl,” Alicent raised her hand and tried to keep her tone light; her son’s disposition was often a cause of contention for her, ever the actual peacekeeper of the family, “A sweet girl from the Arbor, and from what I’ve heard, she’s well-read and pleasant, a well-suited match.”

Well-read and pleasant. Aemond could have sniped at that. He could have laughed so loud that he was sure they would hear him on the coasts of the Arbour. It was flattering that they thought a pretty little thing with enough wit to read words on a page was enough to settle his fire. That it was enough to ease the burden of creating life with someone.

Like that made any of this better; he has always held the notion that he would be afforded a bit more liberty when choosing a bride. As not just her son but as Prince of the realm, but it was at this moment he was reminded that he was merely the second son. A second son who clearly can’t be left to his own devices or freedom of choice.

The spare to shove around their fictitious little chessboard, and plant in whatever house they felt kept them strong in the war of succession everyone knew was bound to happen.

The whole situation felt like dust settling on his tongue as he glanced at the two of them. The murmuring of the other lords felt more like roars in his ears as his blood started to boil, congealing in his veins. He could taste the words he wanted to say, like burning embers on his tongue that were still light enough that he could spit at them. Watch them burn with at least a little pain.

“House Redwyne are not only allies of the Hightowers but have a strong naval fleet that matches even the seahorses himself.” Tyland Lannister in all his stuttering glory cleared his throat and interjected.

“The match was not made heedlessly, Your Grace…” He continued as Aemond’s head slowly looked over at him, the glare enough to have the supposed lion trailing off towards the end of his sentence, “Her father’s support would be great for any issues that could…arise”

“She could be the re-imagining of the mother herself for all I care, you toad” Aemond snipped his face blazing with anger; fingers clenched in fists of rage, “But that still doesn’t negate the fact that I do not wish to marry, especially not marry the Redwyne girl, her fucking ships be damned.”

Aemond had always hated the way the Lannister almost pouted after every scathing word towards him. For a lion he was more akin to a pup who whimpered at even the nudge of a shoe, he was truly pathetic. To think he had even the foolishness to lecture him on what was good for him, now that was a notion so laughable, he wished he could have drawn his dagger where he sat.

“It matters little what you wish, boy” Otto snapped, his hand slamming down on the table, silencing the lords and his mother, “You will entertain the Redwyne girl when she arrives here in 2 weeks’ time, you will marry her and seed her when the time comes; as is your duty to the Realm.”

The Realm, Aemond could have scoffed.

“Aemond,” His mother tried to soothe the anger on his face, her own tired and desperate as she looked at him like he was just a little boy again, “Give the girl a chance, you may even come to like her in time.”

Aemond doubted that with his entire being, he’d even go as far as to say that he didn’t like the idea of the girl just from the few short words his mother had spoken to him.

“Girls from the Reach are all the same,” He could hear Aegon’s drunken prattling in his ear, the memory of him making eyes at one of the ladies from House Crane, “Pretty girls who want a silver prince and dozens of silver babes galore, but with a tongue like thorns, they are just needy cunts”

Aemond didn’t need to remind Aegon their mother was a woman from the reach, as by that point he’d staggered off to probably deflower the Crane girl; as he often did. But it did leave the question rattling in his brain, were all girls from the reach as shallow as his womaniser brother stated?

He supposed it would be something he’d be forced to learn, especially if his mother and grandsire were pushing hard for this union between him and the Redwyne girl.

Aemond could tell the council chamber was waiting with bated breath to see what he was going to say to his mother and Grandsire’s pushing. But all he could do was rise from the chair with a sneer at them, lips curled like he found their words disgusting.

The scrape of the wood against the stone sounded eerily like a dragon screeching in the night as he rose, his hand placed on the wood of the table to look around them all with a glare so harsh he was sure that at least one of the council members would catch fire.

Truthfully, there was nothing for Aemond to say, he was peddled into a corner not of his choosing and unless the Redwyne girl's boat sank on the way here; they would be stood at the sept for their union in the moons to come. He wasn’t a child anymore, tears would only sway his mother so far, and you might as well have tried to get blood from a stone before his grandsire let up.

So, with one last look around the room, he did the only thing he could do.

“Hm...” The noise vibrated from his lips as he moved to stride out of the suffocating chambers, his gait speaking on the anger brimming in his bones as he paid them little attention; the guards at the door merely opened the wood as soon as he neared.

He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing him upset, but he would set them all on edge for when he would snap.

That itself was his victory to claim.

The Arbor.

You looked like a vision of a nymph, reddened with the sun and relaxed on the hammock like you were waiting for the sun itself to come down and bless you with grace. Nestled deep in the home of the Redwyne’s was you, the youngest Lady Redwyne, lounging on your balcony like you weren’t set to leave your home for the last time tomorrow, soaking up the sun and sipping chilled wine like you weren’t going to memorise every nook and cranny of the grand home and vineyard, relaxing in the sunshine like you could do this again tomorrow.

You had many memories on this Balcony, the grand white stone that overlooked the cliffs and the ocean below held a special place in your heart; beyond it being part of your home, it was the place you felt you could truly relax. Sat in this very hammock watching the way the ivy draped from the roofing and danced in the wind, the ships you would see come in from the summer isles, and the sounds of joyful sailors cheering from the leagues away. You would find peace reading, understanding things your Septas and Maesters would give you to read, the blush that would colour your cheeks as you delved into your own interests.

The weather in the Arbor was warmer than the rest of the Reach, the island was constantly washed in heat so dense that wearing anything thicker than tulle or silk was a crime. It was the reason it was so bountiful with fruits, the wine capital of Westeros, it was a sight to behold; the heat gave way to luscious lands so rich and green that it looked like something out of a painting, florals and fruits almost blooming overnight with the kiss of sunshine, the air so clean and fresh that you felt every breath like it was your first.

It was a far cry from the stink that was Kings Landing, or at least that is what you had been told; the two places were as comparable as Dorne and the Wall. Your maids had told you some of their tales from their own visits or their families' visits, the way the poor lined the streets like permanent fixtures, rats crawled in every nook and cranny, the stink of overpopulation marring the air so badly you needed a scented handkerchief to even ride through flea bottom.

Even now, you were hard challenged to remove yourself from where you lounged, the sun at its peak tickling your skin as huge wafts of salted air cleared your nose. It was amusing to hear the voices filter from the double doors of the chamber behind you, the cackles and japes from your maids carrying out the door like a memory you never wanted to let go of.

“I’ve heard they’re closer to the gods than any of us,” You could hear the tinkling voices of the maids from your place on the balcony, their hands busy packing her things into trunks, “Some say they shed their skins at night for their true scales” The giggles were something the young Redwyne girl would miss in these moments.

“Gods can you imagine,” you could hear the deep laugh of the older maid, Meredyth, chortle, “Waking up next to one and seeing those slits of eyes, gods I'd be paralysed.”

“Oh, I’d scream the bloody keep down!” Tayra, another one of your other maids gasped out loud, coupled with a ringing laugh, “Run for Visenya’s hill and walk on foot back here.” Their laughter was infectious, and you felt your chest rumble with amusement.

They never heard you coming as you rose from your hammock on the balcony, bare feet warm against the stone as you strode back into your chambers; the sheer curtains kissing your shoulders as you peeped back in with a smile.

“I’ve heard their hair is silver because once upon a time a dragon rider flew to the moon,” your voice was a gentle tilt as you smiled softly, the maids turning from their jobs with wide amused eyes as they listened to you, “And the gods decided to spin magic into the strands, blessing them for making the long journey.”

There was a pause as you stopped with a smile before the women in the room started laughing again, their laughter contagious as the winter fever as you settled on your day bed, body warm from outside, with a content sigh. Your hand fan was doing little to cool the heat from outside. A day like this was truly a kiss from the summer isles.

“Now that’s a story,” Meredyth smirked, her hands busy folding one of your summer dresses, “Be sure to tell your silver prince that one, petal, you might just make him laugh for once.” You could only roll your eyes.

“Be nice,” you sighed softly, relaxing into the daybed, “I’m sure he’s not what the stories make him out to be, Meredyth.”

“I’ve heard he hides his eye because the other could turn someone to stone,” the youngest maid, Mara, tutted softly, “Careful, my lady, lest they ship you back here to be a pretty statue in the gardens” You could only smile softly at that.

“Really?” you smiled as Tayra piped up, “I’ve heard he’s a ferocious fighter, trained by a man from Dorne; but prettier than the rest of the siblings.” Tayra huffed with a smile as she was packing up your jewellery.

“The Targaryen’s are pretty…” Meredyth sighed wishfully, her smile was almost a smirk as she recalled something beyond your years, “I remember seeing Prince Aemon in my younger years, now that was a prince” She raised her eyebrows in a lustful remembrance at the young girl.

“Was there ever a Targaryen that wasn’t pretty?” You could only tilt your head as you sighed out your question, your hand still delicately moving your fan to keep you cool, “I’ve heard stories that they’re just born looking godly, it’s unfair really.”

“Isn’t he called one-eye?” Tayra stopped packing to ask with a furrowed brow, “Something about losing an eye at a young age?”

“Does it really matter?” you sighed softly, your hand reaching for a glass of chilled fruit juice; the juicy peach taste coating your mouth delectably, “Tis only an eye, he seems like a strong man regardless if the stories are anything to go by.”

“Let’s hope he isn’t like the other prince~” Mara sang softly, “My sister told me, that someone who works there told her, that the Keep is constantly having to find new maids because the older prince Aegon is too... Handsy.” Mara received a smack from Meredyth at that.

“Don’t scare the girl, Mara” Meredyth hissed softly, her eyes looking at you as you lounged on the daybed; the beginning of your lip starting to worry with your teeth, “I’ve heard the two princes are completely different, Prince Aemond takes after his mother.”

Alicent Hightower.

You could scarcely remember the woman, not like you sisters did, but you remembered her father Otto visiting The Arbor some years ago for business; or friendship. Your father was a funny man to understand sometimes, so people visiting could never be pinned for business or pleasure, but you remembered the gruff man all the same. He had a fondness for his daughter over his son, but a sternness that didn’t afford the same love. But from what she understood now, the Queen was devoted in her faith and tense, but a lady in every textbook definition of the word.

“Well, if he’s anything like the youngest, Daeron, I’m sure he’s a charmer” Tayra mentioned with a soft smirk towards the young girl.

“Isn’t the youngest more Hightower than Targaryen?” Mara raised an eyebrow at Tayra, her hand stopping mid-folding her soft nightgowns, “He’s been in Oldtown since he was a lad, has he not?”

“Does he have a dragon?” Meredyth rolled her eyes, the crow’s feet around her eyes smoothing out at she looked at her two younger maids with a look that said ‘tread carefully’.

“Well yes,” Tayra hummed, “A blue thing from what I’ve heard from the mainlanders, couldn’t tell you the name, you can see him flying over the waters most days if you squint hard enough.”

“Then he’s a Targaryen,” Meredyth tilted her head for a second, “The royal family and their bloody… Lizards.” She mumbled as she folded yet another gown

You could only repress a soft smirk at that, truthfully, you’d never imagined ever meeting a dragon – let alone marrying someone who had one, but you supposed that this was going to be your new life now. A princess of the Realm who shared a bed with a dragon rider, or a dragon incarnate.

“Do you think the prince will show you, his dragon?” Mara asked innocently, “He rides Vhagar doesn’t he? The last of the big dragons or something...” Mara waved her hand like she was trying to recall some intricate title, but the little lady Redwyne could see the smirks forming on Tayra’s and Meredyth’s faces at her wordage.

“Oh, I’m sure that the prince will show her his dragon alright,” Tayra smirked lustfully, much to Mara’s shock whose jaw dropped; Meredyth cackled as she watched the two girls, “If you catch my drift.” Tayra winked at her.

“Tayra,” Mara screeched softly, her face aflame as she threw one of her rolled-up nightgowns at her, “Not in front of the Lady” Tayra reached over to swat her for that.

“It’s alright, Mara,” Your face was aflame much like Mara’s, the implications of Tayra’s words warming your cheeks more than the blistering sun outside, “You can speak freely, I must be prepared I guess.”

“Are you nervous?” Meredyth asked softly as she placed some of her gowns gently in the trunk, “Meeting the man you’re going to marry is no easy task, it’s okay if you are” She could have smiled at that.

Despite having sisters of your own blood, you were the youngest of the bunch, and by the time you had reached your moon’s blood; your sisters had been off into the world and married to various lords of the Realm. You rarely had women to counsel you and soothe your fears, and your mother no longer with you, so you were thankful for your gaggle of maids; they took care of you like they were your blood.

Meredyth was the oldest of them all, a woman well into her fifties, who had served your family since she was a young girl; she had seen every side of you and your family. She travelled with them everywhere and took care of you when your Septa’s could no longer handle you. She was less a mother figure and more an aunt, her tongue loose like she wasn’t serving a lord and his family, but her openness was welcome by both your father and yourself.

Tayra and Mara were her wards in a sense, she showed them the ropes of the house; and made sure they did every task to her perfection but remained youthful and fun. They were a far cry from your average maids, but as long as the house was kept and they were respectful when guests stayed, your father cared little. You’d be damned if you saw their light go out despite their position. They were like your sisters in a sense, they joked and prodded each other like so, and made sure that you were never lonely in the large estate.

So, you felt comfortable joking and gossiping with them like this, your oldest friends in a sense, there to soothe your worries about the new chapters in your life.

“Truthfully?” you hummed softly, looking down into your glass of juice, “I’m terrified, being away from home… It’s an ache in my chest that I can’t seem to shake” You tutted softly, taking a sip.

Your eyes were cast out the open doors of your balcony; your room faced the cliffs that overlook the crystal-clear waters of the Arbor. The air a mix of salt and the waft of florals that kicked from the fruit fields.

“I’m not sure what scares me more,” you shrugged, “Not seeing this place for a while, or the fact that I am going to get married to a man I’ve never met.”

“It’s okay to be scared, petal” Meredyth sighed softly, dropping her folding to wander and sit on the edge of your daybed, her hand reaching and squeezing your knee through your dress, “No one expects you to just be completely okay with being sent to King’s Landing.” Her lips pursed at that.

“You won’t be alone,” Mara settled down on the ground in front of the day with a gentle smile, her hand reaching out to touch your arm, “Meredyth will be with you, and your father till the wedding is over…”

“Yes, I know…” you sighed placing your glass off to a side table, “But what if we do not get along, what if he hates me?” Your eyes were wide as you stared at the two of them scared as a lamb.

It was a possibility you had rolled around your head in the many days since your father had told you that you were going to be married. The prospect of marriage was something you knew would happen but just not like this. You were well over-considered ‘of age’ but you never thought it would be to a prince of the Realm, you had thought as the youngest that you would marry another smaller lord of the reach and that would be it.

You remembered your father’s face as you were summoned to his study that afternoon. He broke the news to you then, and it felt like a blow to the heart more than the deliverance of good news. You still could remember the way he looked both overjoyed and hesitant to talk to you; you could tell as soon as you had entered the sun-washed room that whatever he had to say, was going to change her life.

“Sit, my petal,” Runce Redwyne was weathered by the years as Lord of the Arbor; his once orange hair was faded to a grey, tufts of the burning stands still visible in the sun, and his face tense and aged from years of dealing with five daughters and no sons, “We must speak.”

You had never looked like him, the man cursed with no sons had also been cursed with five daughters that all looked exactly like their mother.

Your father hadn’t been the same since your mother passed from what you had heard, the spark for life that he once held was snuffed out as he became quieter and more reclusive in his older years. You had only been a babe when a striking fever took your mother, but the pain of losing her still wore on her father’s face even years on.

“What was so urgent that you called me away from my studies, father?” You had asked so softly as you sat in one of the chairs that he used for when he held meetings, the leather soft and worn as you played with a string on the arm, “Is everything alright?”

“My petal” His smile was reserved but still there as he spoke the news like he was granting her the greatest wish of all, “I’ve just had an interesting proposition from King’s Landing…”

The rest of that afternoon was a blur, from the shock of hearing that your father had found a marriage for you, to the even greater shock of finding out it was to a Dragon Prince of the Realm no less; you were practically a husk of a woman by the time you’d left his study. The blood rushing in your ears, and the fright of change grasping at your heart like death's cold hands.

Marrying a Lord of the Reach would have been one task, but having to learn to tame a dragon? That was completely out of your reach.

“My petal,” Meredyth interrupted your thoughts, “We will not know until you meet, stories aside; he is still a prince who was raised with a strong handed mother” She soothed you softly.

“Yes,” Mara agreed with her, “It is all thoughts until the two of you meet, who knows you might find yourself charmed with him; you were always a romantic at heart,” Mara tried to ease your pain with a smile and a joke, squeezing your arm softly as her round eyes looked up at you.

Mara was right though; you were a romantic at heart, painfully so.

Despite being educated to a level that most ladies didn’t dare to be, your heart laid with more than history or theories from the citadel. Romance, love, and tales of grandeur often found themselves in the young Redwyne’s hands; stories of people yearning so deeply that it fractured their very soul and caused an ache so deep only their love could fix.

It was girlish and childish to yearn for something so deep, but you couldn’t help but dream of a world where you found a love so bright that it formed your very life. You had read everything the Arbor’s library had to offer in terms of romance, even the more salacious novels, and despite never having been in love, you could almost taste it on the tip of your tongue. The honied feel of it so close yet so far from reach.

“It is a marriage of politics,” You could only shake your head at Mara, “I doubt the prince would find much interest in me, that’s if he hasn’t already found a mistress.” Mara could only tut at you.

“Maybe so,” Tayra said to you with a patient look, “But she is a mistress if that’s the case, you are to be his wife – that itself holds more power than you think, my lady” Tayra’s brow was raised in challenge as she also made her way over, sitting on the small table in front of the day bed.

“We shall not baby you, and tell you that you’re travelling for romance,” Meredyth sighed, her hand patting your knee, “But a marriage match can still result in feelings if two people are willing.”

“You think the prince would be willing?” You sighed softly, your eyes flicking to the older maid for guidance, “I mean, I’m not sure why they picked me for a match – why not a Tyrell?”

Meredyth looked pained for a second before she sighed, “Truthfully, petal, I could not tell you why it is you they want, but it must be for a reason if they’re willing to travel you to the capital now.”

It wasn’t like House Redwyne wasn’t powerful in its own right, but even you were confused why you were being picked for a prince over the likes of a Tyrell or even Baratheon; the lord of the Storm’s having four daughters for the choosing. You were the youngest daughter of the Arbor,

“It is all too much…” Your voice trailed off softly, a sheen coating your eyes that could only speak that the young woman was about to be moved to tears, “Why did Father agree to this? Why could he not settle for a Lord of the Reach? Maybe the Stormlands? Gods, I'd even take the Iron Isles.”

Meredyth’s face softened as she reached for your hand, her touch warm and grounding. “Because, darling girl,” she said gently, “your father sees more in you than you see in yourself. He would not send you to the capital unless he believed you capable of standing amongst royalty.”

Tayra gave a soft hum of agreement. “And perhaps… he believes you are worthy of more than a simple lord, a life less ordinary than just being the lady of a house.”

Mara leaned in, her expression mischievous yet tender. “Besides, it isn’t so bad to dream of the capital. Silks and jewels, grand balls and a place bigger than all the Arbor… You might come to enjoy it more than you think.”

But you didn’t want silks or jewels. Not really. Not if they came tied to duty you hadn’t chosen. To a man you didn’t love.

You pulled your hand away to rub at your eyes, blinking the sheen back before it could fall. “I just… I thought I would have more time to choose for myself, or to at least know the man before he became my husband.”

Meredyth didn’t have a comforting answer for that. She simply stroked her fingers down your arm and offered a quiet, “Many women don’t.”

“But many have found joy in what seemed unbearable,” Tayra added, her voice soft, “we cannot promise you that everything will be perfect, but there is still a level of respect that will come from this marriage, he’s a prince and not an average lord after all.”

A silence stretched between the four women after that, the kind that lingered just long enough to settle into your bones. Outside the window, through the sheer curtains, the sun was beginning its descent over the horizon, like always painting the sea it was about to kiss in ribbons of gold and rose.

Mara stood and stretched, casting a glance toward the balcony door, hands moving to continue packing. “Well, whatever comes next,” she said with a brightness she didn’t entirely feel, “you’ll face it with your head high, we know you will...”

“You're a romantic,” Tayra added with a wry smile before joining her. “Which may yet be your greatest strength.”

You gave them both a watery smile, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear, sinking more into the daybed than ever before. “Then let’s hope he has even a shred of love in him,” you whispered. “Or at the very least, the sense not to trample mine.”

Meredyth smiled sadly and leaned forward to kiss your brow. “Hope, petal, is the only thing that makes the unknown bearable.”

And as the last light of day slipped beneath the horizon, you allowed yourself—just for a moment—to imagine that maybe, just maybe, the prince would be something more than duty.

Aemond wasn’t sure why he was here, he didn’t feel like he needed to be nor did he want to be.

The docks that led down from the Keep were astringent with the smell of salt and something sour he’d rather not think about. Even though the sun had warmed up the late morning, he couldn’t help but grimace as the beams reflected off the glistening water and into his lone eye. Trying to subtly blink the glare away as he found himself nearly blinded in what he had left of his vision.

No, Aemond didn’t want to be here at all, not that he could voice that to his mother; who was so nicely standing next to him, ridge backed like a statue and ready to snap at him if he even made even one comment about standing on the stone dock.

He had to be here, or so his family says, for it was the day that the Redwyne girl and her family would arrive.

A mere fortnight had passed since the council had informed him of the arrangement, and despite the nudge from his mother, he had no communication with this girl whatsoever. Ravens had come and gone, but the two scrolls from her had laid on his writing table untouched and seals intact—he had no wish to bolster a relationship with the girl prior to the meeting.

It was childish really, that much he was very aware, perhaps the most childish he had been in years; but frankly, Aemond didn’t care at all. He would respect whatever wife they gave him, for women were the mother personified, but he wouldn’t like her. No husband had to like their wives, especially the ones he didn’t want.

He wouldn’t caress her like a lover, and kiss her silly as novel princes did, he would be as he always was; Aloof and uninterested in anything besides duty. He had no want for carnal desires beyond what a whore and coin could give him. Aemond didn’t want a doe-eyed lover to stroke his hair, or murmur adoration to him in the hour of the wolves.

He especially didn’t want someone who had likely grown up on tales of love and longing, expecting her prince to be anything but a blade honed by fire and blood. If she came to King’s Landing dreaming of romance, she would be sorely disappointed.

Aemond's lips tightened at the thought, as the salted wind flustered his hair, as his good eye scanned the horizon. A speck in the distance that was rapidly getting closer.

“That must be her.” He hummed quietly in his head.

The Redwyne girl. His betrothed.

His jaw flexed as he folded his arms behind his back, posture stiff with reluctant anticipation. Would she be frightened of him? Most were. The patch over his ruined eye, the quiet fury that always seemed to simmer just beneath his skin like a dragon ready to blaze fire. His presence like the quiet clicking a dragon’s throat made just before hells unleashed, it unnerved those who did not understand him.

He rather preferred it that way.

“Stand tall,” Alicent said quietly beside him, pious as ever with her tone even but firm, though beneath it, there was the steel edge only his mother could wield. “And for the love of the Seven, try not to look like you’re going to gut the first person who speaks.”

Aemond didn’t look at her, didn’t shift a muscle as he kept his gaze fixed on the horizon where the ship bobbed closer with every passing second. “I make no promises,” he murmured, voice low, laced with dry humour that almost curled the edge of his mouth into a smirk.

Alicent turned her head sharply to glance up at him, her lips pressing into a tight line. Her eyes—green and sharp with years of courtly scrutiny—narrowed, sending a clear message. “You will make an effort, Aemond.”

He gave a shallow nod, more a concession to timing than obedience. Not because he agreed with her, nor because he thought there was anything worth making an effort for, but simply because fighting her here—in public, on the docks, with his grandsire, the Kingsguard and servants watching, whispers already forming on tongues—was a wasted breath.

Aemond knew this game. He knew the eyes that watched from balconies above, from the shadows of cloaks stitched with gold. They waited for any sign of dissonance, any crack in their image. Like a singular ember falling onto dry grass, any sign of upset would cause fire faster than they could breathe.

So, Aemond stood as his mother told him, like a perfect carving of Valyrian stone—chin high, shoulders square, both hands folded behind his back. The sun gleamed off his silver hair, tied neatly back, though a few loose strands danced in the breeze like flickers of flames.

Aemond always knew he looked the part of a Targaryen prince, more so than some of his family, his image more akin to the likes of his uncle than any of his immediate family. He knew how to play the game if needed and now was very much needed to play the part of the steely prince.

Even if, inside, he wanted nothing more than to turn on his heel, mount Vhagar, and disappear into the sky where no one could ask anything of him.

But he remained where he was on the docks.

Because duty demanded it.

Because his mother demanded it.

Because this girl—this betrothal to her and whatever babes she was going to birth—was yet another piece on the board he was meant to play, whether he liked it or not. His mother and Grandsire play a game greater than he cared to ever play at some points.

Still, he leaned the slightest fraction closer to his mother, voice quiet enough for only her to hear. “If she simpers at me, I may very well walk into the sea.”

Alicent exhaled through her nose, long-suffering after years of dealing with her sons, but her mouth twitched with the smallest flicker of restrained amusement. “If she simpers, you will smile. And you will do it like a prince, not like a snarling dog.”

His eye slid sideways to her, dry and unimpressed. “I was born a dragon, Mother, not a lapdog.”

“Then try not to burn the docks down before she’s even stepped off the ship,” she muttered, her fingers tightening lightly around her prayer ring. “For all our sakes.”

He didn’t answer, but the silence between them held the weight of reluctant understanding.

This whole ordeal was a farce. Everyone knew it, though no one dared say it aloud. And yet, somehow, Aemond was the only one who had to endure it first-hand. Duty, he understood it, he followed it, revered it even.

But gods, Aemond had hoped for a few more years of silence, of solitude before they pressed a wife into his arms like a burden wrapped in silk. It was a cruel fate to be tied to someone like him, and at his core, he had hoped he could have chosen someone who would withstand him, or at least have the sense to leave him alone besides doing their duty.

As the ship drew closer, its deeply coloured sails caught the light. The Redwyne banner fluttered high above the deck, proud and unmistakable. Aemond watched with a practised indifference, though his jaw tightened slightly as the figures aboard began to sharpen into clarity.

The deckhands started moving briskly, shouting orders, ropes unfurling and anchors dropping into the water the closer they got. And there—near the bow—a small figure stood motionless, her soft blue gown rippling like petals caught in a breeze.

Even from a distance, Aemond could tell that she looked... hesitant.

Her posture wasn’t poor, quite the opposite really, but it held the quiet restraint of someone trying not to take up too much space, almost like a mouse trying not to get caught. Her chin slightly raised, hands clasped tightly in front of her on the railing, her shoulders drawn as though she feared being noticed and yet knew she would be the closer they got to disembarking.

Aemond could read people like a book, she was trying to appear calm, trying to look graceful. It was written in every careful line of her body, practically screamed it.

Timid, he thought, fragile.

He didn’t like that the thought had formed at all. He turned his face away sharply, eye narrowing against the glare reflecting off the water. She would disembark, curtsy, and offer some nervous pleasantries. They would nod, exchange a few stiff words, and then retreat into the suffocating rituals of royal engagement.

He should not have looked again, but he did.

She was still there, still standing near the railing, while chaos of people trying to get things in place fluttered around her. Her fingers now lightly brushed the edge as if steadying herself from the rocking of the boat. The wind caught her hair, lifting it gently away from her face.

It was then that Aemond got somewhat of a good look at her. Her features were soft—almost delicate like a child but there was still a womanly aspect to her—but uncertain in a way that struck something quiet in him.

She looked young just in general presence, the kind you see in someone sheltered from the harshness of the world, younger than she should for such a fate.

But she was pretty, almost devastatingly so, and if he was a lesser lord he was sure that he would be blushing at this moment. But all his heart could do was give a thud as something that he had to call appreciation curled in his stomach.

“Mother,” he muttered under his breath, “what exactly do you know of her?”

Alicent blinked at him, surprised by the question. “Not as much as you think, she’s the youngest of lord Redwyne’s daughters. Overall unscathed by any scandal, apparently. Studious. Graceful. They say she’s gentle and well-mannered, the sort of girl who knows when to speak and when not to.”

“Hm,” Aemond replied, his eye drifting back to the ship despite himself.

Gentle. Quiet. Obedient.

Exactly what they would think he needed in a wife, and perhaps they were right to some extent. But if she came here with the intention of looking for softness and silence, she would find no warmth in return. Not from him.

Let her be timid. Let her bow and smile and follow wherever they told her. He would still keep her behind the same walls he kept everyone else.

Love had no place in his life, no matter how pretty the package that it came in was.

There was supposed to be a calmness that came with being at sea, or at least that is what you had heard from the passers-by as you watched them pack your things into the large ship that fateful morning. Unless it was rocky waters or war, the sea was supposed to imbue a sense of peace, being alone out in the water was supposed to be as freeing as the wind. But right now, the vast sea had never felt so suffocating.

The waves stretched endlessly in every direction, and the ship’s creaking timbers groaned beneath each swell as if echoing the tension in her chest. Your cabin was warm, too warm, and yet you could not bring yourself to climb up to the deck without purpose. So you stood there, halfway in shadow, watching the sliver of the sky from the narrow window and clutching the fabric of your dress like it was the only thing grounding you into this realm.

You didn’t know if it was dread or homesickness that weighed heavier in your bones.

You had spent the last night in the Arbor pacing in silence, walking the fruit fields one last time while you gazed out at everything you were leaving. This had been your home, your quiet solitude away from the main part of Westeros. The air had been still, fragrant with ripe grapes and damp earth. Your quiet, sun-dappled corner of the world, far from the noise and posturing of court life. The Arbor was known for its wine, its trade, and its civility. Not for war. Not for dragons. It was untouched by most of the political nonsense, the lands and your family known for its wine and trade. That was it.

And certainly not for daughters being sent off to marry princes.

You were never destined to be any sort of royal, you were supposed to marry some lord of the reach. Perhaps a Fossoway, or Rowan, not a Targaryen. You had tried to picture him on your last night, staring out past the vineyards to the sea, but the image would not come.

All you had were whispers and stories. Your letters to him, the ones your father had prompted you to send, were left unanswered and probably still sealed or fed to the fire.

It was a ridiculous notion to begin with, but a part of you, the hopeless childish part, had hoped that maybe he would read one and at least have the warmth in him to answer. But, after the second one had remained unanswered, you had burnt the rest you were being asked to send, a bitter feeling in your chest.

The reassurances from Meredyth and the rest of your maids did little to soothe your soul, you were a ghost in your home from the moment you found out you were leaving. Watching as the days dragged on and the reality of leaving set in, too tense to cry, too overwhelmed to sleep anymore.

Father had reminded you at your last dinner (and every dinner since he told you that you were leaving) that this was a great honour—that marrying into the royal line and joining our houses was something other girls could only dream of. You had only nodded because nodding was easier than speaking. He was proud of you. Nervous, too, but proud.

He didn’t see how your hands trembled beneath the table every time it was mentioned.

The Arbor was already fading into memory, a glaring white jewel on the cliffs swallowed by the blue horizon the further the boat sailed away. The wind tasted different here—saltier, harsher. Everything about this journey had been unfamiliar: the sway of the ship beneath your feet, the endless stretch of sky, the way her stomach had twisted with each passing day.

You had never left home before.

Not truly. Not like this.

The Arbor had always been your world—lush, warm, sun-drenched. Even the rain felt gentle there, warm, like something that asked permission before falling onto the ripe earth. The long, winding paths through the vineyards had been your solace, the scent of ripe grapes mingling with the soft, earthy fragrance of soil. The way the bugs and the butterflies fluttered around and helped. It was a place where the rhythm of the seasons was a constant companion, where you could watch the changing tides from your window and feel the pulse of the land beneath your feet.

There, the world had felt small, intimate, safe.

But out here, at sea, everything was vast. The wind rushed by ears, the ship groaned with each rocking wave, and the sky stretched on endlessly for miles like the land wasn’t in existence anymore. While the air was warm, a kiss from the summer isles, the open water felt like an unspoken threat—an endless, empty expanse that made your heart pound faster with each passing moment.

The original plan was to sail to Old Town, and then ride a few days from there to Kings Landing, but your father hated carriages and had insisted that they would arrive by boat, much to your discontent.

The first few days at sea had been disorienting.

The ship’s sway unsettled your stomach like never before, the rocking motion unrelenting, as though the very world was in flux beneath you. There wasn’t much to do on a boat, you had tried to sleep, to rest your mind, but the fear of the unknown kept you awake. Every wave that rocked the ship felt like it might tear you from the safety of your past and toss you into a future you weren’t ready for.

You had spent most of the journey under the deck in your room, staring out at the horizon from the small window, trying to reconcile the life you had left behind with the one that awaited you.

But the further you sailed, the more the familiar sight of the Arbor seemed like a fading dream—blurry and distant, swallowed by the boundless sea. Meredyth, the one maid you were allowed to bring with you, had tried her best to keep you sane while you sat in your bunk, chatting mindlessly to you about what she knew of the capital, the people there, and what the likelihood of that Tayra and Mara were up to no good back home.

It was sweet the way she tried to keep you sane, but it just didn’t do that, the more you listened to her, the more you were reminded that soon she would be back on this very boat after the wedding, sent back home, and you’d be truly alone with people you did not know.

Every second the ship approached closer King’s Landing, you felt your chest tightening.

There was no mistaking the looming silhouette of the Red Keep against the morning sky, a red fortress that held years of terror, power and fear. The city below it sprawled out behind it, chaotic and bustling, nothing like the quiet sunny solitude that you had known.

The smell of saltwater gave way to the pungent scent of smoke, and the sharp, acrid tang of people. The capital was a place of hard edges and high walls, and even at a glance, you could already feel the weight of it settling on your shoulders. A crown clawing into your skin, never to be taken off.

Your father had stayed away from most of the journey, his eyes had grown distant, his words few. You were leaving behind the only home you had ever known, and he said little more than that it was a great honour to be betrothed to a Targaryen, that you should be proud.

He had reminded you often of the importance of the union, how many would envy you, but each time he said it, his voice had sounded almost hollow. You wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that this was what you were meant to do, but deep down you felt truly lost in the weight of it all. How could anyone be proud of leaving everything they had ever loved behind?

A part of you wondered if he felt sad that the last piece of his wife was now going to be gone. He would truly be alone until he either decided to remarry for a son or decide to pass on the Arbor to one of your sister’s children.

You wanted to ask, be was a man of so few sentimental words, but all of it would remain unanswered, but a part of you hoped that the fear of loneliness would have him change his mind. No matter how selfish of a notion that was.

Overall, it had been a five-day sail to King’s Landing.

Five days that felt both endless and far too short. The gentleness of the sea had lulled you into a false sense of stillness as if the world beyond the ship’s bow didn’t truly exist. Giving your mind time to occupy itself on the thought that maybe the ship would sink, or you’d arrive at the capital to find that the prince was charmed with another.

The horizon remained a blur, the mainland a foreign concept, and for a while, you had allowed yourself to believe it might never come. Out there on the blue open water, with only the creak of the masts and the rhythmic slap of waves against the hull, it was easy to pretend that time was suspended, that this journey was just that—a journey. Not a turning point. Not a life change.

But the illusion was shattered on the morning of the fifth day.

The captain’s voice rang out across the deck, clear and certain, calling down that the ship was making its final approach to the docks of King’s Landing. In an instant, your body betrayed you, your breathing hitched, your pulse jumping and thrumming harder, and a cold panic blooming deep in your chest.

The calm you had tried to cling to slipped away like water through your fingers. You tried to still yourself, to slow your breathing, to remind yourself of your lessons from your septa’s; your poise—but your heart only raced faster, pounding against your ribs with each step the ship took toward its destination.

There was no turning back home, there was something unknown beyond this point in time. No pause. No last request to delay just a little longer. The moment you had dreaded, rehearsed, braced yourself for, was here.

There was nothing left to do but face it.

You stood at the railing as instructed, hands clenched tightly around the wood, knuckles pale from the force of your grip. The wind off the sea whipped strands of hair across your face, the scent of salt and smoke already beginning to replace the crisp, sweet air of home. Below, the dock drew closer like a hand reaching out to grab you from your comfort—massive, foreign, loud. You could hear the faint murmur of the port from where you stood: dockhands shouting, carts creaking, gulls crying overhead.

Everything about it felt too loud. Too fast.

Your father came to stand beside you, his boots thudding gently against the deck. He didn’t speak at first. He only watched the dock draw nearer; his brows furrowed in thought as the image of a redhead and the striking head of silver started to become clearer.

You wondered what he was thinking—if he regretted this decision, if he worried for you like you worried for yourself, or if he was simply focused on appearances. Then, quietly, he laid a steadying hand on your shoulder.

“It’s time,” he said, voice low, palm warm through the fabric of your gown.

But there was no comfort in his words. No reassurance that if things didn’t work out you could go home. Just the quiet finality of your duty.

You nodded once, not trusting your voice, and turned to face the coming shore. The gangway would be lowered soon, and with it, the last remnants of your old life would be left behind.

The boat lurched as it docked onto land, a rush of breath leaving you as you held on tight while ship hands scrambled around you at a speed, you’re not sure you could move at.

Eventually, the gangplank was lowered with a shuddering creak, the wood scrapping on the stone dock while your father placed his hand at the bottom of your spine, the dockworkers already hurrying to secure the ship and prepare for disembarkation.

The commotion was dizzying—shouts of greeting, the slap of boots on wet wood, the flap of banners in the rising wind. You moved slowly. Deliberately. Hand tangled in the soft fabric of your skirt, each step down the ramp feeling more like a small betrayal of the life you’d left behind than the start of something new. The wood beneath your feet was firmer than the ship’s deck, but somehow less stable.

This was land, yes, but it was not your land. The people did not know your name, your steps, your roots.

And waiting there standing, just beyond the gathering of guards, was the prince.

You saw him before anything else.

Aemond clearly did not wear his station like the others.

He stood apart, not speaking, not smiling, his silver hair gleaming in the morning light. His posture was straight, unfathomably tall, almost unnaturally so—like a marble statue that had never been allowed to bend. Even at a distance, he radiated a quiet, coiled danger, much like the stories about him. He was not theatrical, not overt in any way, not dripping in rich fabrics of every colour.

He was simply there, stood in his leathers, sheathed like a blade kept just out of reach.

But by gods, was he beautiful.

Painfully so, that your heart gave a pathetic thud as you looked at him, he was dreamy in a dangerous way. Hard lines and edges, something almost sinful to look at, novel in the sense that someone had created him from a mould, unlike any others. You had seen many lords who tried for your hand in your time, esossi travellers docking, but nothing compared to the Targaryen beauty, your maids were right in that sense.

Aemond was something different entirely, the slash through his eye and the eyepatch did nothing to draw away from his beauty. Creamy skin, and strong boned, his nose and jaw were the centre feature of his face. Your hand twitched as it grasped your skirts, itching to reach up and trace every line, feel the warmth of his skin on your skin, and see that beauty up close.

Pitifully, you could feel the yearning in your chest.

Your feet slowed the closer you got to him and his family, but you did not stop. You knew better. You moved forward, your father walking at pace beside you, guiding you to your new future with one step at a time. You were dressed as they had instructed—nothing too rich or gaudy, but tasteful, demure.

The dress itself was a gift from a traveller that had traded with your father, something pretty and soft like most women of the Reach wore; layers and layers of soft tulle fabric that came together to look like a soft blue. It was similar to the colour of where the sky met the sea, a nod to your home. Your hair simple with a soft twist up away from your face and delicate pearl pins that caught the light.

And then, you were in front of him.

Your hand gripped your skirts tighter than you thought was possible as you sank into a curtsy, perfectly measured with a bow of your head. Deep enough to show respect for the royal family, but shallow enough to retain your dignity. The way Meredyth and your Septa had made you practice over and over again both at home, and on the ship, until your knees ached and your patience wore thin. There would be no greater embarrassment than not curtsying properly to the prince.

Your breath was rattling in your chest as you paused for a second out of respect, counting the seconds in your head before you looked up.

Aemond was looking down his nose at you, his one violet eye unwavering as he scanned your face. His expression betrayed nothing. Not amusement, not curiosity. Not even indifference. Just a blank page.

It was strange, you expected at least the comfort of twitching lips, or a gentler demeanour to at least ease the awkwardness, but it seemed as if Aemond relished in it, made him stronger. Up close, he was just as beautiful as you’d seen at the end of the dock, but there was an aura to him that drew you in like a moth—something addicting about him.

But at this moment there was only stillness, everyone around holding their breath like they knew something about the prince that you didn’t.

Then, at last, he spoke.

“Lady Redwyne, welcome.” His voice was deeper than you had imagined.

It was soft, shockingly so, but still cool and precise like he spared his words for when they mattered. But the greeting came with no hint of warmth, your name sounded like a formality to him, an obligation, not a greeting.

Still, it was more than you'd expected.

“Your Grace,” you answered, managing a soft, steady tone despite the way your hands begged to shake. “I thank you for your welcome.”

It was the most formal exchange of your life, and yet, he left your knees trembling beneath your skirts. Raising back up to full height, you noticed the stark height difference between the two of you, his ability to still look down his nose at you even stood was shocking. He was every bit as tall as he was strong.

You could feel the eyes on you though—guards, servants, all strangers who already had opinions of the exchange they would not speak aloud. You didn’t dare look away from Aemond though, couldn’t look away until he gave the faintest nod.

And then, mercifully like a copper angel intervening, Queen Alicent stepped forward.

She moved with the grace of someone who had long mastered the art of appearances. Her gown was dark green, finely embroidered but still simple. Like extravagance wasn’t part of her ritual, her expression measured but kind. She took your shaking hands in hers and squeezed them gently like someone might take hold of a dying bird just to make sure it was still breathing.

“We are pleased to have you, my lady,” she said, voice low and careful but a smile on her lips like a mother calming a child. “You’ve travelled by ship, and you’ve still arrived with grace... That speaks well of you.”

Her words were a balm, even if rehearsed. You managed a soft smile at her though, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Thank you, Your Grace. It is... all very new.”

Behind you, your father said something polite and deferential. You didn’t catch the words. You were too aware of the weight of the prince’s silence; of the way he had already turned his gaze elsewhere—as though you were no longer worth looking at.

You turned when the Queen guided you toward the waiting carriage, but before you climbed inside, you glanced over your shoulder one last time.

Aemond had not moved.

He was staring back at the sea.

Let him, you thought, gripping the edge of your skirts tightly. Let him face the waves, if he liked them better, found them more interesting.

You would not chase his gaze, and you would not beg for warmth.

No matter how much your heart cried already just for a glance.

Everything else after the arrival was a blur of people directing you places, the Queen speaking lowly to you as she escorted you through the Red Keep on a short tour. Pointing out various places that you would soon see more in depth in the coming weeks.

She filled the space by asking you questions, and all while you tried smiling politely as you stuttering through various facts about yourself. It was equal parts embarrassing and exhausting, your father none-the-wiser as he lingered behind the two of you, catching up with the Hand of the King, old friends reunited after years apart.

You couldn’t help but feel like a burden slotted between reunions and political obligations—the sacrificial offering exchanged while the men caught up on their glories of the last few years. But it was nice for your father to at least have a familiar face to talk to, Otto seemed as happy to see him as much he was able to.

At one point, Queen Alicent paused by a grand terrace that overlooked the gardens, and with a soft sigh, offered her apologies that her other children had not been present to greet you.

“My daughter, Helaena, is occupied with her little ones,” she said, the corners of her mouth tightening in a way that suggested she wished it were otherwise. “And Aegon, as I’m sure you can imagine, is often... engaged with matters of the court and the children also.”

You weren’t sure how to respond to that, you had heard stories otherwise of her oldest and his whereabouts but you weren’t going to say anything, she moved along before you had to anyway.

“Daeron, of course, remains in Oldtown,” she added with a hint of pride on her face, the first you had seen since she’d even mentioned her children. “He sends his warm regards through raven, but I imagine you’ll not meet him for some time.”

You noticed that she didn't dare mention any of Aemond.

More small talk followed that more you walked. Polite, measured, and relentless. You answered every question with the poise you had been raised to show, but your cheeks ached from the effort of smiling, and your temples throbbed from the mannered chaos that was the whole morning.

It was like being on stage, only the role you were playing was yourself, and every word felt both too much and not enough.

By the time you reached the quarters assigned to you, rooms tucked into a quieter wing of the guest wing with a sweeping view of the sea, you felt as though you had lived through a full week, not a single morning.

The Queen took your hand briefly before leaving you in the care of your maids while the men continued on, your father would greet you later, you knew that they were all heading to the small council room this afternoon to discuss the matters of your betrothal and undoubtedly the wedding.

Alicent's hands were still warm as you both stood outside your door, a guard lingering just off to the side, the moment as private as you were afforded.

“You’ve held yourself with admirable composure, my dear,” Alicent said, her voice warm, though her eyes never lost that assessing glint. “I know how overwhelming it must all seem right now…But I assure you, it gets easier.”

You smiled, bowed your head, and thanked her as graciously as you could manage, the throbbing feeling in your temples getting stronger as you pardoned yourself to your chambers, eyes following with a soft sigh as the Queen followed after her father to what you could only assess as one of the easier talks of politics that would happen in that room.

Your chamber door shut with a soft click, and the silence fell like a soft shroud over the chamber, all you could think was how very far from easy it all felt.

It was the first time you had been truly alone since your departure from the Arbor and arrived here—no ship hands yelling, no handmaidens darting around with curtseys and murmured instructions, no quiet humming of the Queen Mother or the low, commanding voice of you father as he made polite conversation with the King’s Hand.

It felt like some semblance of peace as you moved further into the chambers, hand pressed over your stomach while you breathed as deeply as you could, being alone at this moment was good, it was needed. You just needed yourself for a moment longer.

The room was far too grand to feel anything like the safety of home, and you supposed that was purposeful, what there any true safety in this place?

The walls were a warm stone colour, with candle sconces littered all around, you assumed it would be well-lit at night with the number of candles shoved around. It was marginally bigger than your room back home, equipped with a sitting room that you assumed you would be expected to receive guests in, a comfortable set of settees in front of the unlit hearth, a desk by the window, and a table that you assumed would be used to having dinner alone if you wished.

It was a fine room, fitting for a princess, but you didn’t know if it was fitting for you.

The sleeping chamber was sectioned off with large arched lattice doors, cut with the shapes small flowers as it hid the bed. Some privacy that no one would dare to enter, besides your maids, and eventually your husband.

From your place by the hearth, you could see that bed was canopied in soft pinks and reds, similar blankets with tasselled corners, cushy duck pillows and soft white sheets that practically begged for you to crawl and hope this was all a terrible nightmare. All the windows around the room stood tall and arched, the very tops of them glazed with coloured panes of dragons and fire that tendriled of coloured light across the stone floor as the sun moved in the sky.

Everything around smelled faintly of beeswax and polished wood and a strange perfume that did not belong to you. But it wasn’t unpleasant, it wasn’t your room back home, but it was nice, it needed personal touches that you assumed would come in time—but as a start it was good, it was blank, it was needed.

You found yourself by the hearth, unmoving, eyes fixed on the old smoke stains and the fresh logs that were too perfectly cut to have come from anything real.

It was just you now… and Meredyth.

Meredyth was the only maid you were allowed to bring with you, Tayra and Mara were tasked with keeping the Arbor in check in her absence, but it was a silly comfort that you knew was going to leave as soon as the vows were said. You did not doubt that the Queen would find you new maids to serve you, and from what you heard in passing from your father, eventually ladies-in-wait who you would counsel and raise as companions of your own.

What a frightfully daunting task.

Meredyth was already silently moving around the chamber like a helpful ghost, efficient as always as she zipped to unpack your comforts, your life packed into trunks. She’d clearly wasted no time in opening your trunks, humming low under her breath, deft as always with the already laid out various bottles of scented oils and cosmetics. It was something to focus on to temper the panic rising in you as your eyes focused on her shaking out gowns with quick snaps of her arms.

“There’s no lilac in this room,” Meredyth muttered as she walked to the wardrobes, her sharp eyes narrowing at the corner where a folded sheet sat slightly askew. “You’d think with all this royal ceremony someone might have remembered your preferences; they were sent ahead for a reason. It smells of cypress and dust and… Targaryen pride, if that had a smell.”

You didn’t answer her. You couldn’t. Your throat was tight. You hadn’t spoken since you were dismissed from the Queen’s presence.

The welcome had been cordial. Formal. Cold.

Aemond had barely looked at you, only said your name in a voice so dry it might have been carved from stone. Queen Alicent had offered kinder words, even a smile that seemed genuine enough beneath her careful politeness. You were a means to an end for something you didn’t understand yet, and your value had already been tallied before your feet touched the dock.

The hand that wasn’t pressed to your stomach reached to one of the pillars of the hearth, breathing deeply as your fingers touched the cool stone, grasping it for support as you glanced around the room. Watching Meredyth work her magic to make the room seem a little more homely, you could feel your stomach turning the more you watched her.

She saw your pain clear as day, her fingers gently placing down a nightgown to look at you the way only an aunt would.

“Sit,” Meredyth said at last, softer now, gently guiding you toward the cushioned stool before the dressing table. You didn’t resist. Your limbs felt stiff like they weren’t quite yours anymore.

You sat like she asked. She stood behind you, plucking the pearls and the pins from your hair quickly to let it down; just as you liked. Before she was running a brush through your hair in long, slow strokes. She had been doing this for years, since you were a girl with scraped knees and sticky peach fingers, and the rhythm of it made something in you finally break loose.

“I can’t do this,” You whispered with a crack in your tone. The words barely left your mouth, more like a whoosh of air leaving your mouth rather an anything tangible. “He didn’t even speak to me, walk with me, it was like I didn’t exist.”

Meredyth paused for only a breath before resuming the brushing, steady and sure. “He doesn’t know how to speak like you wish him to,” she said lightly. “Not to people, anyway. I’ve heard the stories—they say he’s a man of few words, he only really acknowledges his sister and mother if he has to.”

You blinked at the mirror, meeting her eyes with your own wide ones. “That’s supposed to make me feel better?”

Meredyth gave a dry laugh, shaking her head as she parted sections of your hair to brush easier. “No… But, it’s meant to remind you that it’s not just about you, it’s about the situation.”

“I appreciate you lying to me.” You said quietly as you watched your reflection in the mirror. The girl looking back at you was pale, drawn. Her eyes were tired, her mouth downturned in a line of exhaustion. “But he hates me, or at least wishes me gone.”

You didn’t recognise yourself right now.

“I miss the Arbor already,” you said, your voice barely heard like it was being pulled from somewhere deeper than your lungs. You looked down at your lap, fingers twisting the soft fabric of your gown. “Do you think it’s too late for father to change his mind?”

There was a silence then. A long one.

Meredyth’s brushing had slowed as she let out a soft sigh, it was times like this that she wished that she could truly lie to you; tell you that it wasn’t too late. But this was your reality now, no matter how much you wanted to beg to go back.

“No,” she said at last. “But it’s too late for you to ask him to, the only way this changes is if something else happens—but your fate is here and now, petal.”

You looked back up, startled.

She leaned in, resting a hand on your shoulder; not firm, not light, but grounding you with her at that moment. “You’ve already stepped off the boat, you stood before him and the Queen. You were seen, and you don’t get to vanish now, court knows you’re here, the fire has started between both you and him.”

You swallowed hard. “But I don’t even know Aemond, I don’t even know if he wants this.”

“He probably doesn’t.” Her honesty stung. “But that doesn’t change what’s expected of you and him, and it certainly doesn’t change who you are.”

You sat in silence for a moment, the room quiet bar your own breathing, the brush trailing gently through your hair once more.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, and it felt like the most dangerous thing you’d said all day.

Meredyth didn’t mock you, but she didn’t rush to soothe you either, she simply kept brushing, like she always did.

“I know,” she said softly. “But you’re still going to be the most composed and watched girl in that feasting hall tonight, and tomorrow, you’ll wake up, and do it all again, and you’ll keep doing it till it gets easier to deal with.”

The feast.

A welcome feast for you and your father, your up coming betrothal, something you’d been told to prepare for in advance. It was to be your first venture into the snake pit that was the royal court. You could see what you were supposed to wear hanging from the door of the wardrobe; your dress for tonight, a soft pink, something gentle, something so inherently you—they were going to tear you apart.

“You’ll get through tonight,” Meredyth murmured, her voice low and certain. “One step at a time. And if you stumble, you’ll get back up because I know you can, you know you can." she added, meeting your eyes in the mirror with a flicker of a smile.

That was all.

Not a promise of glory. Not a lie to make it easier.

Just enough. And somehow, it helped.

Tonight would be something, and something in you hopped that it would be something you would survive.

You didn't have a choice.

#silverdragonfly ✨#very nice comments #lovely moots 💕#bruised fruit

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