#Her actual relationships but like you know. Maybe

[inkedbybarnes]

blind date

bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: convinced that bucky will never like you back, you agree to a blind date arranged for you to forget about him.

word count: 3.7k

warnings: fluff. two idiots pining over each other (i know, i know. i love the trope). blind dates (they honestly scare me). boundaries being crossed. not so gentleman of a blind date. protective & grumpy bucky (yes, that's a warning!). pet names such as doll. lowercase writing. not proofread.

notes: happy 500 followers to us! hehe. sorry it took long, i waited until i reached that milestone and we finally did! we're growing in our small delulu home, and i love it. <3 i hope you enjoy this one!

dividers by @cafekitsune

comments, reblogs, and likes are highly appreciated. thank you! ♡

“come on! tell me more about this mystery guy.”

natasha plopped down the couch beside you while she held a pint of ice cream in her hand and a spoonful on its way to her mouth. you were talking about the blind date that sam arranged for you, and she hasn't stopped asking questions since you mentioned it.

“there's really nothing to tell besides that he's a guy looking for a date and that he's friends with sam. i'm actually surprised that sam set this all up, but i trust him, you know? maybe it'll be nice,” you answered, ignoring the fact that sam suggested this to help you get over your not-so-little crush on a super soldier.

your phone beeped, showing a message sent to you by your teammate. “speaking of the devil, sam just sent me the details but i'm really not sure if i should go. it doesn't feel right.”

“and leave the poor guy waiting? not happening." natasha stuck her spoon into her pint and set it down on the coffee table. “you feel that way because you like someone already, but nothing's going to happen if we'll sit here waiting. you're either giving this date a chance or ask bucky out. it's time you finally go out there and see someone. aren't you sick of us yet?"

“i'm quite sick of you, that's for sure.” you joked, having natasha as your room neighbour and basically your best friend. if you weren't spending your time sleeping in your room, you'd be spending it with her. “i just don't think i should be going on dates when i know i'm technically not emotionally available for others yet.”

“oh, you can't be sick of me. i'm great company." natasha replied confidently. “then why did you agree? we all know, besides barnes, that you've liked him for so long. plus, he's never been with anyone for ages. the two of you makes sense.”

you gnawed on your lower lip, hesitant to tell nat the reason why you agreed to this stupid date, but she was your best friend and also one hell of a spy to even try and hide it. “he told me that he found someone similar to bucky and that i might want to meet him. we agreed to let it be a blind date to avoid the mess of telling them that they're meeting an avenger.”

“i knew it. you're going on a rebound date!” she jumped on her seat, as if she'd solved the winning numbers to the lottery. “there was no way you'd suddenly go on a blind date without a catch. you're too hung up on bucky!”

“keep it down!” you pulled her back into the couch, nervously looking around the room to see if anyone was close by. “i'm pretty sure rebounds only apply to people i've dated. bucky's hardly a candidate for that list.”

“you've liked him for way too long that it basically feels like you had a relationship, and i'm pretty sure he likes you too,” natasha said. “trust me, my guts? golden.”

you winced at the thought. there had been zero signs that bucky liked you back. as much as you trusted natasha and her instincts, this was something you couldn't just assume.

“i don't think so, nat. i've given him enough hints. it's either he's too dense about it or he's just not interested. maybe it's just how it's supposed to be, and i can't keep myself stuck with maybes forever.” you sighed, deciding to finally go to the blind date. “help me pick an outfit?”

“like you even have to ask?” she smiled, dragging you to your room while you were still left with uncertainty in your heart.

the restaurant was one of those hole-in-the-wall places in downtown new york. it had a lot people dining inside, their noise easily heard from the outside, yet the ambiance already felt warm and welcoming. you wondered if sam suggested the place or the guy you were about to meet.

you sighed, giving your chest one last tap since it wouldn't stop beating so fast. it was a wonder how your heartbeat remained stable during a risky mission, while a harmless date had you this nervous. although with that, you felt human.

“okay, let's see where this goes,” you muttered to yourself, glancing at your watch that had a tracking device in it, as requested (or ordered) by your best friend.

natasha initially opted to come with you and seat somewhere far, but you told her that you didn't need it. so, she settled with a tracking device, as if you weren't an avenger who could defend yourself. you couldn't find it in you to complain, since this was natasha's own way of showing that she cared.

you entered the restaurant, eyes wandering around the room despite not knowing exactly what to look for. the only details you were allowed to know was that “joseph” knew where to take you, so you assumed that person was one of the staff that you had to look for.

once you found a waitress that didn't look too occupied, you approached her with a smile. “excuse me, may i know where joseph is?”

the lady looked up at you, recognition evident on her face. you were slightly worried that she knew your identity, but she gave you a warm smile and held your arm gently. “oh, he's right there by the counter. let me take you to him!”

she escorted you towards the man handling the counter that seemed to be where the orders were taken. he was shouting various orders behind him while arranging the food on the counter. by the looks of it, he could be the manager or the owner of the place.

“she's here!” the lady beside you exclaimed, catching the full attention of joseph.

“ah, there's our special guest for tonight!” joseph walked around the counter to hug you, as if you knew each other for a long time. “come, come! we have the best spot reserved for you. it's right outside where you can enjoy the view while also having some privacy, eh? your date already arrived, but no worries. he wasn't waiting for too long.”

you were rendered speechless as he took you to the patio, not expecting your date to arrive first, and most importantly not expecting to see him right away. you thought you were early enough, but it seems that your date was an earlier bird than you were.

once outside, all you could see was an empty patio with one man sitting not so far from where you were standing. you hated how you could only see his back and not his face, since he was facing the opposite direction. although, you immediately noticed how he was dressed similarly to bucky.

similar haircut, black boots, and a black jacket. while you weren't sure if they actually looked alike, sam wasn't kidding about them having some similarities.

“how come it's empty out here?” you asked with genuine curiosity. the restaurant was oozing with customers tonight, and they could surely use the extra space outdoors.

“well, uh...” joseph scratched his head, smiling awkwardly as he looked for an answer. “oh, well, stop worrying about that! you're here to go on a date and nothing more! let us worry about that ourselves, hm? come, let's not make your date wait for too long.”

you both walked towards the only table occupied, taking a deep breath before joseph announced, “your date has arrived!”

the man turned around, eyes widened at the sudden noise, but he eventually smiled once he looked at you.

“hey, nice to finally meet you.” he stood up, extending his hand. “i'm martin.”

one look at him and you knew that your heart stubbornly stayed with someone you shouldn't be thinking about.

“i still can't believe that i'm on a date with an avenger.”

you were barely done with your meal despite being here for more than an hour, and martin hasn't been able to stop gushing about your whole avenger sideline. while you understood his excitement, this wasn't the type of date that you hoped for.

“you think i could tell my friends?” he asked, suddenly nudging his chair closer to you that he was basically sitting beside you. “they probably won't believe me, so will it be okay if we took a picture?”

oh, so that's why he moved closer.

“sure.” you forced a smile. “but don't get too close, maybe? i'm.. i'm not that comfortable yet.”

as if you said nothing, he placed an arm over your shoulder, pulling you even closer to him. you've been through worse situations than this, but you were highly uncomfortable having your boundaries crossed.

bucky wouldn't do something like this. how did sam think that any of his behaviour was similar to him?

martin already had his phone out, capturing pictures and squeezing your arm, when you decided that this isn't what you wanted, but before you could open your mouth, you felt someone pulling his arm off of you, causing martin to scream.

“what is wrong with you!?” martin shouted, standing up and stepping away while he held his aching arm. when you turned around, you felt your heart stop to find the person you least expected to be here, but wanted the most to be with.

“bucky?”

he did not look at you, his eyes still fixated on martin, nostrils flaring as he took a step closer, standing in front of you as if he was shielding you, while martin took the same amount of steps backwards. “she clearly said no. what the fuck was so hard about understanding that?”

“look, man, i don't know what you're doing here, but i think this is between me and her,” he said, his eyes showing fear as he watched the ex-assassin approach him, hearing the gears of his metal arm whirring.

“give me your phone.” bucky ordered. “now.”

martin immediately fished for his phone, nearly dropping it, and gave it to bucky. “w-what are you going to do?”

“no, this is what you're gonna do,” bucky started, crashing martin's phone with ease and carelessly throwing it to the side. “this date never happened, your friends will hear nothing about tonight, and you will get out of here before i finish counting to three. one...”

in a snap, martin was already out of your sight. if you hadn't known martin before this, you would think he idolised pietro with the way he ran so fast.

“are you okay?”

forgetting about bucky for a split second, his voice jolted you out of your thoughts. you looked up, your heart racing, to find him right in front you.

“what are you doing here?”

“that doesn't really answer my question, doll. answer mine first, will ya? then i'll answer yours.”

“i'm okay, but i can take care of myself. you didn't have to scare the guy.” you sighed, trying your best to look displeased when in fact this has been the happiest you've been tonight. “so? why are you here?”

“well, it's really hard to explain...”

“you better try, barnes, because i am very confused right now,” you said. “one moment i'm on a date with someone, then suddenly my teammate, who i told nothing about said date, appears and crushes the phone of the guy i'm with?”

“natasha told me about it.”

you frowned, not surprised with natasha's gossipy nature, but confused about what she could've said that made him go all the way here.

“i was looking for you since you're always with us during dinner, and nat told me that you were on a date. i couldn't help but ask where and with whom, but she said that she had no idea, that it was a blind date. she was more than glad to tell me where you were, so i came here looking for you.”

“why?” you asked, confused and suddenly hopeful at the same time. although, you tried to keep your hopes down, not wanting to set yourself up for a heartbreak.

“what do you mean why? that's it. i was just worried, and now you're okay. can we go home?”

he turned his back on you and walked away, you were quick enough follow him, still unsatisfied with his answer.

once you've reached a dark alley where he had his motorcycle parked, you sighed and decided to ask one more time.

“what are you actually doing here, barnes?” you asked. “i want an actual answer or i'm walking home.”

“it doesn't matter,” bucky answered shortly, frustration. written on his face. “why did you agree to this anyway? doesn't feel like something you'd do.”

“you have no idea about what i feel and what i want to do,” you answered. “and you still haven't answered my question.”

“i don't know, okay? i don't know. i just..” he sighed. “i heard the word date and everything didn't make sense. all i knew was that i wanted to follow you here and stop whatever you were doing. i didn't like it.”

“what gives you the right to stop me from going on a date?” you asked, your head jerked back in disbelief. “and why would it even bother you? this is the first time someone went on a date in the team. so what makes mine so different?”

“what do you think?” he asked, his gaze challenging and curious, waiting for your response.

you stood in silence, his question causing a sudden drift in the conversation. you could feel the tension in the air.

“sam made me go to a blind date as well,” he spoke again. “i just remembered that he was asking me where i'd take someone on a date. days after that, he said he found a girl that i might like, and that i should go on a date with her, he suggested that it should be a blind date, knowing that i'm an avenger and all.”

“why didn't you go?”

“i couldn't. i wasn't interested. i knew it wouldn't work.”

“why?”

“because i already like someone.”

your heart sank, a lump forming in your throat as the reality set in that the person you've been pining for was already interested in someone else.

so much for going on a date to forget about him.

“what about you?” he asked. “why did you go?”

because of you, you idiot.

“trying to get over someone,” you simply answered.

“you were seeing someone?” he asked, completely clueless, but suddenly looking uneasy. “i never knew you were in a relationship. i guess, we're not that close, but i thought i'd at least know abou—”

“what? no!” you replied, voice rising as you spoke. "god, i agreed to this date because i wanted to get over you!"

the words slipped out of your mouth, your eyes widening in surprise as you accidentally reveal the feelings you had kept hidden.

bucky blinked, silence hanging in the air. the confession felt heavy between you as you waited for his response.

“i didn't agree to going on a blind date because i have feelings you,” bucky finally spoke, taking a deep breath before continuing, “because i knew i wouldn't enjoy it knowing i'd be thinking of you anyway, because as convinced as i was that you had no interest in me, i'd rather keep my eyes on you than on anybody else.”

“wait, wait, what? you like me?” you repeated in a slightly disbelieving tone, searching his face for confirmation.

“why would i follow you all the way here if i didn't?”

“because you care? and it might be dangerous to go on a date with someone i've never met?” you guessed. “i mean, i think you'd also do it for everybody else, as grumpy as you look like on the outside, you can be a softie sometimes.”

“if i had no feelings for you, i wouldn't be here. you're an avenger for christ's sake. some random guy would be like a training dummy for you,” he answered. “and no, i wouldn't be doing this for anybody else. if the situation's that dangerous, maybe, but a date? you're all adults. you know what you're doing.”

you couldn't help but giggle at his answer, which earned you a glare from him. “what?”

“nothing.” you shook your head. “you sound like an old man lecturing the younger generation.”

“are we completely ignoring the fact that we like each other?”

“that's the only thing on my mind right now.” you admitted. “are you sure about what you just said? it could be the hunger talking.”

instead of answering, bucky took his phone out of his pocket, swiping and tapping on it a few times before taking your hand and placing it on your palm.

“what am i supposed to—”

“just read it.”

choosing not to argue with him, you grabbed the phone with a frown. his messages with natasha were on the screen, starting from their messages from nearly four months ago. you scrolled through their messages, and while they lasted for months, they were all short and straightforward.

three months ago

bucky:

did you arrive safely?

romanoff:

since when did you start asking?

bucky:

?

romanoff:

yes, we arrived safely.

bucky:

👍🏻

romanoff:

really???

two months ago

bucky:

is she okay?

romanoff:

ohhh, that's why you keep texting.

bucky:

answer

romanoff:

geez, barnes.

yeah, she's okay.

bucky:

ok

one month ago

bucky:

she's sick?

romanoff:

yeah, wanna visit her?

you're basically immune.

bucky:

i have a mission

romanoff:

oh yeah

oops

bucky:

are you busy?

romanoff:

nope

why?

bucky:

take my place

romanoff:

no thanks, barnes.

bucky:

i'll take your next task

and the next one as well

romanoff:

why can't you just take this one?

bucky:

nothing

romanoff:

a reason or i'm not doing it.

bucky:

she's sick

i want to stay

romanoff:

oh my god

you're such a sap

fine i'll talk to steve

bucky:

ty

romanoff:

you're using abbreviations now???

bucky:

👍🏻

one week ago

romanoff:

movie night later, don't ditch us again

bucky:

busy

romanoff:

she planned this one

she's worried you won't come

bucky:

i'll bring snacks

romanoff:

i love knowing your weakness

bring popcorn!

bucky:

she prefers pizza over popcorn

does she like popcorn?

romanoff:

nope, but some of us do.

bucky:

ok

romanoff:

so you're bringing popcorn?

bucky:

no

once you were done reading, you returned his phone back to his hand. “you do like me,” you said, the confession finally sinking in.

bucky nodded. “and you like me too.”

“where does that leave us?” you asked, hoping. “are we.. dating now?”

“no,” he answered quickly.

you felt that ache returning in your chest, but before you could say something, bucky already sensed your worries and he wasn't letting you slip away that easily.

“no because i want to do this right. i want to take you out on a date first, bring you flowers, play music and ask you for a dance, all that stuff that you deserve,” he explained, bringing his warm hand to your cheek. “but trust me that it won't take long before i call you mine. i don't think i have the patience for it at this point.”

“you promise?” you rose to your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around him. “i don't want to wait that long either.”

“you won't,” he replied, leaning into you, his lips brushing against your nose before pulling you in a kiss. “i promise.”

this was supposed to have a lil bonus when they got back to the tower, revealing the team's true involvement with the blind date, buttt i might just do it some other time as a snippet/part 2 instead. i still have a few to write anyway, woops.

if you have any requests for bucky, send them my way! 💌

[mulloey]

Can you write a full length fic of boyfriends!sanhwa reminding the reader who she belong to after someone tried to flirt with her at party and she was too oblivious to understand and went with it?

Can you include overstim and them having the reader on their lap. And a bit of size kink on sanhwa's part.

Do not include: mxm, misogynistic terms like whore and slut.

too sweet

san & seonghwa x fem!reader

words: 1k

join my taglist

warnings: overstim, punishment, soft doms!sanhwa, kind of innocent!reader, reader is smaller than sanhwa, big size kink (you’re referred to as small, tiny, little etc)

—

“Do you understand now?”

Seonghwa’s voice is low and teasing in your ear, making you squirm in his hold; he has you on his lap, your legs spread apart and held in position by his own strong thighs. His arms are wrapped around your torso, stroking your flushed skin as you sob through another orgasm.

You don’t know how many you’ve had now, nor how many you’re yet to endure; San’s fingers pump in and out of your pussy relentlessly, his other hand holding a vibrator firmly against your swollen clit. You writhe pathetically in Seonghwa’s arms but you all know it’s pointless; they could overpower you in your sleep, and when they’re this determined to teach you a lesson, there’s nothing you can do but take it.

“Yes, Hwa,” you hiccup. Your voice is tiny and pathetic, hoarse from screaming and begging for God knows how long. “Hwa, m’ sorry, please.”

He laughs softly into your skin, lips trailing across your neck. “Oh I know, honey,” he coos. “It must hurt so much, huh?” His voice drips with condescension and you know he doesn’t actually care if it hurts; he wants it to hurt, wants you so drunk on pleasure that you can’t think of anything except them, their hands, and how sorry you are for being so bad.

And you were really, really bad—or so they said. You don’t think it’s fair, honestly, to be punished for something you didn’t even know you were doing, but you’re not silly enough to protest; Seonghwa in particular hates when you try to weasel out of a punishment, sees it as the ultimate form of disobedience—so trying to talk yourself out of this would only have made it worse. For the nth time tonight your safeword dances on your tongue but you have no intention of using it. They know as well as you do that you absolutely adore being used like this.

Still, it would be better if this wasn’t happening as a punishment; then you’d be able to ask San to take it slower, or to pull his fingers out and fuck you instead. But if that’s what you wanted, then maybe you should have been more careful.

They knew they shouldn’t have taken you to that party. A company event filled with other artists and staff, it was all too easy to lose you in the crowd; you were smaller than most of the people, a social butterfly, and endlessly optimistic of people’s intentions. For just ten seconds San had looked away from you to chat with one of his stylists—but that was all the time it took for you to slip away.

It was Seonghwa that found you chatting happily with one of the choreographers. To be fair to the guy, he was new and didn’t know the nature of your relationship to them yet; but that didn’t make the sight of him leaning against the wall with his hand on your arm any more pleasant. And you, sweet thing that you were, had no idea what he was doing.

He got you out of there quickly, both of your boyfriends bundling you into the car despite your protests; Seonghwa nearly broke the speed limit trying to get you home before he snapped and took you right there on the motorway.

You’re just too sweet for your own good. And the noises you make as you approach another orgasm certainly are.

You can’t bear to look at San anymore; the focus on his face and the bulging muscles of his arms as he works you open are only turning you on more, so you bury your face in Seonghwa’s neck, crying pitifully into his hair. You shudder through your next orgasm, barely in control of your limbs anymore and San kisses your cream-covered thighs. “Pretty girl,” he croons. “Naughty girl.”

“M’ sorry,” you whine. “Sannie, please, I can’t—”

“Yes you can,” Seonghwa says with a sweet smile. “You’re gonna, baby.”

San hums in agreement as he resumes his assault on your aching cunt. “Such a pretty pussy,” he purrs. “So tiny for us. Only for us, right?”

“Y-yeah,” you whisper. “Only for— only for you. Only for Sannie and Hwa.”

“Good girl,” Seonghwa says. “Such a sweetheart, learning her lesson so well. Isn’t she, Sannie?”

“She is, yeah. One more orgasm, baby, then I’ll fuck you, alright?”

You nod dizzily, barely aware of what’s going on; just as your last orgasm approaches, San pulls the vibrator away and attaches his mouth to your clit, sucking harshly at it and it’s all takes for you to come crashing over the edge, releasing onto his face. He comes up with a grin, mouth and chin wet with your juices as he pulls you out to Seonghwa’s arms and into his own. He pushes you down on the sheets, hovering over you. “Hi, tiny,” he smiles. “Want me in your pussy?”

“Yes,” you say breathlessly. “And— and Hwa?”

San’s smile widens and you hear Seonghwa laugh from next to you. “Silly girl,” he says. “How am I gonna fit in there with Sannie? You’re too little, baby, we’d tear you open.”

“Don’t care,” you say. Your voice is stubborn and San pinches your thigh in warning.

“Be good,” he mumbles. “Hwa’s right, honey. We’re too big to fit in that little pussy. But if you ask him nicely I’m sure he’ll fuck your mouth, right?”

“Right.” Seonghwa grabs your chin gently, turning your head to face him where he’s kneeling at the side of the bed. His eyes are soft and impossibly aroused as he looks you up and down. “Want me in your mouth, pretty?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Please.”

“That’s not enough.” There’s a stern edge to his voice now that makes you shrink into yourself a little and his lips quirk amusedly when he notices. “You were really, really naughty tonight, baby. If you want me in your mouth you’re gonna have to beg for it, aren’t you?”

“Please,” you say. “Please, Hwa, I need— I’ll be so good. I won’t be bad again, I won’t let anyone flirt with me again, I swear I learnt my lesson, pl—”

“Sh, sh,” San soothes you with a chuckle, rubbing your pussy gently; the wet sounds make you blush. “We know, baby, good girl. Always so good.”

“You are,” Seonghwa smiles.

As you feel San start to push into you you feel the bed dip under Seonghwa’s weight as he climbs onto it. His dick is already leaking when he presses it against your lips.

“Open up, baby.”

—

ateez taglist: @pixie0627 @hon3ysun @bbdeongi @hwaromi @tangerineastronaut @fancypeacepersona @aloevendetta @lemonkait00 @uhh-awkward-rightt @whyokoa @miyaluvvsyou @yabbadabbatuh @mylovelymito

requests open!

[steddieas-shegoes]

not to me

for @steddielovemonth inspired by the quote “I’ll take care of you” “it’s rotten work” “not to me. Not if it’s you”

rated t | 947 words | cw: injury recovery | tags: pre-relationship, post-Vecna, friends to lovers, getting together, first kiss, disabled Eddie Munson

👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️

“Fuck!” Eddie yells as he throws his hands up in frustration.

He’s been trying to stand on his own for days now, and the furthest he’s gotten is pulling himself most of the way up. His legs shake. He falls back down.

Repeat again until he finally isn’t even strong enough to get himself upright.

Wayne’s always home, but he doesn’t watch. At least he doesn’t let Eddie know if he is. But he’s home in case Eddie ends up hurting himself or falling onto something other than his bed or the couch.

Steve’s come by a few times, offering to be a steady body to hold onto. He doesn’t accept the offer. Usually, he jokes that Wayne’s the only man he’s ever trusted and distracts him with something else.

“Alright, Ed?” Wayne calls to him from the kitchen.

“Fine!” Eddie calls back because he doesn’t want Wayne to come into his room and see him splayed out in his bed while his walker is still unused by his bed. He glares at the wheelchair in the corner of the room.

The doctors said he’d be in it for a long time, maybe months, but he’s determined to prove them wrong. They also said he wouldn’t play guitar again, but he was already able to play most of the chords.

He hears a car pull up outside and he just knows it’s Steve. Of course he would come over now.

The car door opens and closes.

The front door opens and closes.

Wayne greets him like he’s an old pal and he kind of is. It’s a little weird how close they’ve become since Eddie woke up, but whatever.

There’s a knock on his bedroom door before it opens.

Closes.

Steve looks nice. Not dressed up, necessarily, but he’s wearing his good jeans and a new polo. His hair is done a little less carefree, more like he actually went through the phases of blow drying it, putting product in it, and then showing up here to drive Eddie and his unrequited crush crazy.

He smells nice, too.

“Is that a new cologne?”

“It’s not new, I just only wear it for dates.”

Eddie’s heart sinks. It shouldn’t.

Not only is Eddie a man, but he’s also weird. And, at this current time, he’s pretty much bedbound or being pushed around in a wheelchair.

Steve’s a good guy, but he isn’t gonna waste the good cologne on visiting Eddie.

“Oh. Where you taking her? Movies? Dinner?” Eddie sits up so he doesn’t have to look up at Steve. His mind starts to wander to other reasons Steve might be above him, but luckily, Steve answers before he gets carried away.

“I’m taking you to my place,” Steve replies simply.

“I thought you were going on a date?”

“I am. I’m taking you to my house.”

“No offense, but I’d rather not sit alone at your house while you’re on a date,” Eddie snorts. “Is this because Wayne’s leaving in the morning for a weekend trip? I swear I’ll be fine on my own. Dustin’s coming by tomorrow anyway.”

“Eddie.” Steve takes both of his hands. “I’m taking you to my house for a date. You and me. On a date. I’m making dinner for us and I thought you could help me make a character sheet.”

Eddie must’ve fallen and hit his head. He must’ve blacked out. Wayne will be so pissed that his independence has landed him in the hospital again.

“You’re saying words to me. I hear them.”

Steve groans. He lets go of Eddie’s hands and cups his face instead.

“Wayne said this would be difficult.” He rubs his thumb against Eddie’s cheek, smirking. “You’re awake. You’re alive. I’m really here in front of you. I’m asking you to come to my house so I can charm you and maybe kiss you at the end of our date. And then you can stay at mine, but there’s no expectations. I have the guest room made up for you.”

“This is crazy. You realize this is crazy?” Eddie squeaks. “You’re not even gay!”

“I’m a little gay,” Steve laughs. “And I really like you.”

“But-“ Eddie turns to his wheelchair. He’s definitely gonna need it to get outside and then back inside Steve’s house. And then he’ll probably need help getting upstairs to the guest room, or Steve’s room if he’s lucky. “You’ll have to help me. For a long time maybe. The doctors might have been right on this. I can’t even stand, let alone walk. And I’m miserable about it. What you walked in on was my 28th attempt at getting up to use my walker today and I’m no closer than I was on day one, attempt one. It’ll be a lot of fucking work, taking care of me.”

“Not to me. Not if it’s you.”

Eddie’s speechless for quite possibly the first time in his life.

“Can I kiss you?”

Eddie nods once. Steve beams at him, like he’s given him the best gift he’s ever received.

He gets lightheaded almost immediately. Steve’s lips are gentle against his, full of so much tenderness and love. It’s almost more than he can handle.

Eddie chases his lips as Steve pulls away.

“Don’t stop,” Eddie whines.

“I’m gonna take you home. We’re gonna have a date. And then we’re gonna kiss again. Let me treat you right, though,” Steve says and winks.

“You stop that. I can’t handle your winking.”

Steve laughs, kisses him again. He leans back and claps his hands together.

“Alright, let’s get you in the chair so we can get home. Dinner’s gonna take about an hour to make.”

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (49/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Climbing up the mountain can be very freeing.

Warnings: angst (self-doubt, insecurities, mentions of abuse in a relationship, Charles is very insecure about himself), the end is a bit fluffy, but don't expect too much

Word Count: 4.1k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: I feel like this describes Charles well. I cried when writing this chapter. I hope you like it. feedback is appreciated.

It is the first time in years that Charles has no desire to climb the mountain on those stupid skis. 

His feet hurt, he is cold even though the jacket he is wearing is suitable for even colder temperatures, and his hands are so stiff from the frigid air that they painfully curl around his ski poles. 

The snow blinds him because of the bright sun, his bones feel heavy, somehow his mouth is so dry that he would like to rinse it with water every five meters.

But maybe that's just because he'd rather be at home in Monaco. Because that's where you are. And there is no place he would rather be right now. 

Closing the door behind him and leaving you alone in the apartment was incredibly difficult. He would have loved to put you in his bag and take you with him, but you would only have distracted him from training. 

And if he wants to be world champion one day, he can't afford to make any mistakes. 

It's been two days since he's seen you and heard your voice. In the morning, when he wakes up and gets ready for the day, you are still fast asleep, and during his training, Andrea has his phone so that Charles can collect his thoughts and stay focused. Only in the evening, when Charles is in bed, he manages to text you a few messages before falling asleep, cell phone in hand, completely exhausted. 

He misses you every second. 

Before he met you, he would never have imagined that he could miss someone he had only known for a few days so much. He had missed Annika from time to time, after all, he had definitely loved her at some point, but he had never longed for her or anyone else the way he did for you now. 

As soon as he has a moment to himself, whether it's in the shower or on the toilet or when Andrea isn't bothering him with calories or carbohydrates or protein for a moment, he misses you so much that he can almost feel the physical distance between you. 

But most of all, he misses you in the morning when he wakes up. When he is in that one second when he is neither sleeping nor fully awake. Snuggled up warm in the blanket and against the pillow, where in the evening he imagines it would be your body that he is snuggling up to. And in the morning, for a brief moment, it feels as if you are actually lying next to him, which is why the second he realizes that you are miles away from him hurts the most. 

“Are you okay?” Andrea asks, who has slowed down a little to run up the hill next to Charles. ”You're suspiciously quiet.”

Charles, who hasn't realized that he has slowed down at all, looks at his trainer in confusion. “Yes, I'm fine. Why do you ask?”

Andrea shrugs. ”Usually you're chattering away at me during training. That usually helps you to distract yourself from how exhausting it is.”

He has a point there. Charles pushes himself forward on his skis. “I don't know. This time I don't feel like you're torturing me up this mountain. It's still the same route we usually take, isn't it?” He looks around as if he can recognize the surroundings. 

Andrea raises his eyebrows and also picks up the pace. ‘We're in a completely different area, Charles.’ He points to another mountain with his gloved hand.

If his friend hadn't told him, the man from Monaco would never have noticed, so absorbed is he in his thoughts about you. The mountain Andrea is pointing to seems more familiar to him than the one in front of them. And a lot smaller. If they had taken the familiar route, they would have been at the summit long ago. 

“You asshole,” Charles curses and wipes his face. ‘Why did you choose a different mountain? And especially one that's higher?”

Andrea can't help but grin. ’You came in second in the championship this year. I'm hoping that if we increase your training, you'll come in first next season and...”

“And what?” Charles interrupts his trainer. "The whole thing is useless if my strategists and the whole team mess up so much during the race. I can train as much as I want. It won't work." He gets so caught up in it that he doesn't notice how quickly he pushes himself up the mountain on his skis. 

“Charles –”

“No, Andrea. This whole thing cost me the title. Wrong tires? Last-minute changes in the pit? What the hell?” he gets worked up. He knows that his anger is unfairly directed at the wrong person, after all Andrea is only there for Charles's well-being and not for what happens on the track, but it just comes spilling out. And he can't stop it. 

His ski poles dig deep into the white snow, which Charles barely notices. He only sees the summit in front of him and hears Andrea breathing loudly next to him as he continues to complain. 

“It's not right that I come in second because of such little things! If I had caused accidents, then at least it would have been my fault and I could have dealt with it more easily,” he says, annoyed. ”But what kind of stupid plans were these, anyway? Even a toddler could come up with a better strategy!”

Andrea, who knows full well that Charles needs to vent his anger, walks quietly beside him and lets the storm pass over him. It's not often that Charles gets this angry. And normally he blames himself, but he certainly doesn't take such serious mistakes on his head. 

Charles knows that making mistakes is an inevitable part of competition, and sometimes, they're the difference between standing at the top of the podium and finishing second. Being the runner-up in a championship can feel bittersweet – so close to victory, yet just short of it. 

Being second in the championship feels like a mix of pride and frustration. On one hand, Charles has achieved something incredible – outperforming almost everyone, proving his skill and showing that he deserves to sit in the red car with the horse on it. But on the other hand, there's that lingering thought inside of his head – he was so close. The tiniest mistakes, the small miscalculations in his strategies, or someone else having a slightly better day made the difference in the end. 

There's this ache inside of him, knowing he was almost the champion. The podium felt different when he looked up at Max Verstappen holding the trophy he desperately craved. Charles felt a lot of things in that moment – disappointment, regret and even anger – at himself, the situation, the team and at the margin that kept him from winning. 

“I could have won the title. Max will definitely win the next season too, as strong as Red Bull is. How will I ever live up to my reputation then?” He clenches his jaw. ”I feel like I'm stuck with what I'm doing now. And I'm doing my best, Andrea. I really am. But it's apparently not enough. Do you know how incredibly frustrating that is?”

Being second carries a unique weight – a strange middle ground between triumph and heartbreak. And hell, Charles heart broke with every race that put more distance between his and Max's points. He feels like a failure, like he failed his team, his family and friends. He failed his fans, that support him through every decision he makes on and off track, that defend him whenever he makes a mistake during races. 

And it haunts him. What if he had pushed just a little harder, made one less mistake, reacted a second faster? What if he made a different decision that would've outweighed the mistakes his team made? What if he became world champion in the famous red car he worked so hard to get into? The famous red car that his dad loved so much?

Disappointing his dad was the worst part of it all. It was a different kind of pain, heavy and crushing. It's not just about failing at something – Charles feels like he simply isn't good enough. Like he let someone down who believed in him. He could have been champion this year – he was so close to standing on top of the podium. What if he never gets this close to winning? What if he never holds the big trophy in his hands, dedicating it to his dad, who always wanted to see him drive in the Ferrari?

Charles' anger has been building up for so long that he doesn't know where to put it. If only he had concentrated more on the season and hadn't been so distracted by his personal problems - 

“And Annika. What a waste of time the whole thing was. I should never have gotten involved with her. I should have ended the relationship when I realized that she wasn't the one. When I realized that I couldn't give her the attention that a healthy relationship requires.”

Charles would never admit it, but Annika’s betrayal in their relationship cut deeper than expected. It’s not just about broken promises – it’s about broken trust, the foundation of any meaningful connection. It shook everything Charles believed to be true about Annika – or love in general. 

The worst part wasn’t the act itself or that he caught them right in the act, but the realization that someone he trusted with his heart made the choice to hurt him. After the break-up he questioned everything – was any of it real? Was Annika lying to him the whole time? Even after everything, the wounds linger. 

Some betrayals are survivable with time and effort, but others leave scars that never fully heal. They change people – it changed Charles. It hardened his heart, made love feel dangerous to him and made him create walls where there once was openness. 

He guarded himself like a survival instinct. At first, it was solely for protection – he told himself that if he didn’t let anyone in, nobody could hurt him. The walls became his shield, keeping out disappointment, rejection, and the risk of being vulnerable again. 

But over the course of the weeks, Charles noticed the walls he put up brick by brick didn’t just keep the pain out – they kept everything out. Love. Connection. The chance to feel something real. Hell, he didn’t even tell his Maman that he was back home in Monaco. He pushed his family away, his friends, acting cold and distant – not because he didn’t want love, but because he’s so scared of what happened when he let someone else in. 

It took Charles some time to figure out the truth, that the walls didn’t keep him safe and sound – they kept him stuck. They stopped him from healing, from growing, from experiencing the things that make life meaningful. But he was so scared of breaking them down when it took him so long to put them up, that he didn’t know what to do when he met you. 

It was terrifying, letting you in slowly and hesitantly. He’s spent so long guarding himself, convincing himself that no one except his close ones can be trusted, that it almost felt unnatural to let you in. At first, he resisted, kept his distance. But the fact that you didn’t even know who he was felt so good, made him feel safe to share his story with you and then – you stayed. You didn’t push too hard, but you didn’t walk away either. 

Surely, this friendship has had it’s ups and downs, but this is what happenes when two people, who protected themselves so much that they become too careful, too hesitant to let someone in fully. 

And instead of forcing your way through, you waited. You were there. You proved in small, consistent ways, that you’re not like the woman who made him built those walls in the first place. 

And then, without realizing it, he stopped expecting the worst. He let you see his wounds, his fears, his past, and instead of running, you stayed. You stayed with him through awkward dinner conversations about his ex, you stayed with him when he didn’t correct his family about your relationship status, you stayed when he overstepped the boundaries of your friendship. Your gentle touch, your honest conversations while burning Annika’s things. 

You stayed when he revealed to you who he really is. You see him – the real him – and don’t flinch at what you see. Little by little, cracks form in his defenses. He finds himself wanting to trust again, to love again, even though it scares him to death. 

When you look at him, it feels like sunlight creeping through the cracks in the fortress he thought were unbreakable. It was unsettling at first after being in the dark for some time. But you didn’t break down his walls in a dramatic, earth-shattering way. 

It was quiet. Subtle. It sneaked up to him in moments he didn’t even realize – they way you looked at him when he played your song on the piano in the bookshop, when you let him hold you while you cried like his arms were the safest place in the world, when you showed him that you want him for who he is. 

But even though you broke down most of his walls, he still can’t admit that you’re all he needs. 

He can’t let you in fully after what Annika did to him, he can’t let you touch him like he wants you to. He can’t let himself feel so much for you because what if those feelings he has for you – the feelings he swore he’d never harbour for anyone again – are not enough for you?

What if he gives you his all and you decide that it’s not enough? That he is not enough? He can’t tell you why he doesn’t want you to touch him, because what if you’ll see him differently? What if the things he wants, he needs, are different from what you want? 

He feels like he isn’t good enough. The scars Annika left on him made him question his worth, his value, his ability to be loved. There are moments where he feels too far gone, too damaged, not strong enough to break free from the fear of losing you that he’d rather keep you at arms length hurting himself than push you away and out of his life. 

He can’t let you touch him after Annika, because sex with her felt wrong, like he was broken because he wanted different things than her. Because he craved intimacy like his life depended on it, the safety that comes with it, but it always felt like he needed to deliver, even if he didn’t want to. It felt like a chore, no gentle touches or loving words, only demanding hands and lips and thighs and he swore to himself he’ll never let it happen again. 

If you don’t touch him at all, there’s no chance you could hurt him like that.

He’d rather give you all he’s able to give instead of letting you return anything.

“I could have waited for…”

“Charles.” Andreas‘ voice is gentle and soothing, in contrast to Charles’. When the man from Monaco looks at his friend, he smiles at him. ”We're here.”

The wind howls at the summit, biting and cold, but it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t feel it. He can’t feel anything except the weight that presses down on his chest. He stands there on top oft he world – and all the space in the world couldn’t quiet the chaos inside him. 

Andrea chose this route to help Charles clear his head, the mountain was supposed to be his escape, his victory. He climbed every inch of it, each slide of his skis pushing him further from the mess he feels inside. The view from the top is actually breathtaking: endless stretches of jagged peaks, skies that feel closer than ever. He should feel something – pride, accomplishment, freedom. But instead, there’s only the overwhelming silence that gnawed at him. 

For a moment, everything is still. He pulls his beanie and glasses from his head, closing his eyes and trying to ground himself in the beauty around him, but the images, the memories, everything – it all comes flooding back. The things he can’t outrun. The words that had been sad. The choices that had left him fractured and alone. 

A sob caught in his throat, sharp and unexpected and he falls to his knees in the white snow at his feet. The tries to fight it, but the tears come anyway – slow at first, then faster and harder. They burn against the cold wind, mixing with the salt of the sweat on his skin – and he can’t stop them. 

They stand for everything he hasn’t been able to say, everything he has be scared to face. He thought he could bury it, hide it behind the walls he built, behind the distance from it all. 

His hand tremble on his thighs, his chest tightening with every broken breath. His vision blurred, the edges oft he mountain fading into the background. It doesn’t matter that he’s at the top – he feels smaller than ever. The tears slip down his cheeks like a rush of a river too long dammed. 

„I’m not enough“, he whispered almost unaudibly. A confession only the mountains and his friend could hear. „I’m never going to be enough.“

The world stretched out before him, magnificent and indifferent, and in that moment, he realized that being on top oft he mountain didn’t mean escaping it all. He had climbed all this way, but he couldn’t outrun himself. The hurt, the mistakes, the weight of everything he’d buried deep inside. 

He doesnt flinch when he feels Andrea’s hand on his shoulder, gently squeezing and reassuring him that whatever he feels right now is okay. That the tears that fall down onto the snow have their right to exist after being bottled up for so long. 

The sobs faded, leaving him gasping for air in the stillness of the summit. He wiped his face, trying to wipe away the brokennes, but it lingered in his chest. His hands still trembling from the release, from the rawness that had bubbled to the surface. For a long moment, he just sits there, the wind biting at him, the emptiness inside him as a vast as the world stretched out before him. 

And then it hit him, like a sudden punch that knocked the breath from his lungs. 

You. 

Your laugh. Your smile. The way you always seem to know what he’s thinking, the way you care in the quietest ways – how you’ve been there for him, even when he pushed you away. How, despite everything, you stayed. 

He tried so hard to tell himself that he’s better off alone, that he doesn’t need anyone else to fill the empty spaces inside him. He thought he could bury his feelings, run from the truth. He has told himself that love was something to fear, something that could trap him, break him, leave him just as broken as he’d been before.

But now, sitting on top of the world, it all makes sense. 

He loves you. He always has. He can feel it in every part of him, the truth that has been there all along, buried under layers of fear and pride. It’s not something he can outrun, not anymore. He can’t ignore the way his heart always beats faster when you’re near, the way everything seems to fall into place when you smile at him, the way your presence has been the one thing that feels like home. 

The moment of realization hits him like a wave, sudden and overwhelming. It’s undeniable. 

He loves you.

Not in the casual, passing way he once tried to convice himself was enough for his relationship with Annika, but in a deeper, truer sense. It’s always been you – only you. Right from the start when the both of you stood in the small apartment. 

But the weight o fit, the sheer force of that truth, felt like it could crush him, especially when he realizes how long he’s been running from it. 

His heart races, pounding hard in his chest, but it isn’t the kind of excitement he thought would come with such a revelation. Instead, it is quiet terror. The terror of feeling too much. Of feeling anything at all. 

His breath comes in shallow gasps as the cold mountain air cuts through him. It isn’t the altitude or the wind that chills him – it’s the fear of being too vulnerable again. Of letting anyone close enough to hurt him. The thought of telling you, of exposing his raw, vulnerable part of himself, feels like standing on the edge of a cliff with no way to climb back down. 

He stares out over the vast horizon, the world stretching out endlessly beneath him, and for a moment, he considers it. The possibility of going back, of telling you everything he has just realized. But the thought of your eyes on him, the weight of the words, the vulnerability—it‘s too much. Too raw. Too dangerous.

So, he stays silent. He stays with the truth, buried deep inside of him. The love he feels for you is now his secret, locked away like a fragile thing, too delicate to share. He can‘t find the courage to let it out—not now, not after everything that had happened.

But there is something about knowing, about feeling it — just knowing that he can love again — that makes the world feel a little less heavy. It isn’t perfect, and it doesn‘t fix everything, but it is enough. For the first time in a long time, he doesn‘t feel so broken. He isn’t empty. He is filled with something — something soft, something he thought was gone forever.

Maybe he isn’t ready to tell you. Maybe he will never be ready. But the knowledge that love still exists in him — that it can still find him, even after everything — is enough to hold onto for now. It isn’t a victory, not in the way he wants, but it is a beginning. And in that, there is a quiet peace. A peace that, despite all the fear and hesitation, he coul still feel, still hope.

And that, for the moment, is enough.

[narcjsistx]

— 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 ; words: 0.4k

"What do you mean you've never given a kiss?"

Sitting so close to him, you're surprised to see him so serious about such a topic. In your head you had often imagined who knows what things about RINDOU HAITANI, but in none of these you imagined him as someone who had yet to have his first kiss. He's a delinquent, who knows how many girls have fallen at his feet all these years... and he still has to kiss?

He looks down, a light pink blush coloring his pale skin "I'm not as desperate as my brother. I wanted to wait, that's all" he says taking your hands in his, squeezing them gently as he begins to massage your knuckles. You observe how your hands seem intended for his, how together they almost look like a painting, one of those you often saw in the art galleries you visited together. Maybe all the thoughts you've had about him so far are wrong, perhaps more than you care to admit

"But you told me you wanted to kiss me" you say unsure, still with the words from earlier echoing in your mind. Rindou looks up not letting go of your hands, but his sudden boldness is betrayed by his tense shoulders and the way he breathes, almost as if he's out of air "So what? I'm tired of waiting"

"It's strange, I thought..." you say stuttering, but he interrupts you "I know, the usual story of the delinquent with all the women at his feet, who kisses them and even spends the night together. No, I'm not exactly that kind of person... plus, I spent half my life in prison, let's say there weren't many women there" he says, and you can't help but chuckle a little at the last part of his sentence "Maybe I just thought wrong"

"I can prove the opposite to you, that there is a part of delinquents who if they love a girl, only her exists" he says, his hand leaving yours as he shyly cups your chin. Two purple amethysts study your soul, as you slowly relax under his touch, the distance between your lips slowly reducing to zero

You have always been used to toxic loves, decent guys who however had no intention of treating you as you deserved. Yet, since you met him, he who has always been the opposite of them at least in appearance, has given you everything you deserved even before actually being in a relationship. He, a delinquent, who would get the whole Roppongi beaten up if you asked him, just to see you smile for a few seconds

"Can I, then?" he asks softly, his breath beating against your cold lips, divided by only one millimetre "You can"

✶ 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!

[darkluminosity]

Crazy about Diluc and Eula rn so I wanted to do this... link behind the cut since it's a lot 🙃

1. Tough to say, they both do in my hc but I feel like she's more likely to initiate the hugs and he initiates the kisses 😉

2. I think they both do tbh lol. Maybe she does a bit more (at least in my current wip)

3. Eula would borrow Diluc's, I think he's more organized

4. I feel like she would for the reasons above, maybe if she was drinking and misplaced them?

5. Hm this is actually a bit tough because although he's rich and owns a winery, it was inherited so idk if he was taught money management, especially because he has others run it for him. But I feel both of them are fairly responsible.

6. Well, Diluc's parents... yeah they're not around anymore and idk about Eula's. I feel if anything she would take either extreme, either hiding it because she doesn't want to ruin his reputation by others knowing he's dating a Lawrence, or she would utilize their relationship to get back at her clan (and in part of my hcs, get rid of her association with her clan and break apart from them). But the latter would be after they talk it through and he assures her he doesn't care about it. I don't think he would want to hide it. If anything it would take him off of the bachelor market which I think he'd be happy about lol.

7. I actually think he'd be better in the kitchen overall (especially taking lessons from Adelinde if he is willing to learn) BUT as it stands his signature dish is literally a version of Pile 'Em Up which is throwing ingredients on top of each other? Compared to her signature dish, an upgraded version of Moon Pie, I think her signature dish beats his in terms of complexity. But for everyday cooking, probably him.

8. She gets more sleep but he needs more sleep lol 😂

9. They're both serious about their duties and work, but I feel he's a little more hardworking. Not that she isn't, but I think she knows her boundaries and limits more- he's constantly pushing his limits (and working as the Dark Night Hero doesn't exactly have a strict schedule if you know what I mean)

10. She has more empathy... I think 🤔 idk sometimes he can surprise others, it's just others find him hard to read. But I think he has the capacity for empathy too, he just doesn't communicate it openly very much.

11. A cat (hmm this gives me ideas) or she becomes attached to his falcon, they can write letters to each other and send them back and forth (aww 🥰)

12. Eula

13. His is acts of service and quality time, and hers is physical touch and quality time

14. I don't think they would keep secrets from each other intentionally, but there are certain things in Diluc's past that he probably wouldn't want to mention to her, and stuff he knows about Kaeya. Maybe if she asked him (about his past) but I don't think he would readily share it.

15. Neither, but I think as I alluded to in #6, Eula might not feel she deserves him so she might push him away and tell him he deserves better. At least in versions of hc where she has a lower self image and some insecurities. Who knows, he could even say the same to her because of his past if she ever found out 🤷🏻‍♀️

16. Diluc (lol my husband thinks Eula would be a terrible mom 🤐 he said it and he's the Eula main lol)

17. Eula (lol I did a short fic idea of this after chapter 18 of Fighting Winter but never posted it, where they talked after waking up and he's like why were you moaning in your sleep and making noises... and she's like uhh,I was? but she was thinking omg I want to run away in shame lol and instead tries to change the subject 🤣)

OTP questions:

Who initiates hugs?

Who wants to hold the hug longer?

Who borrows the other one’s phone charger?

Who loses their keys/wallet?

Who’s better with money?

Who tried to hide the relationship from their parents?

Who’s better in the kitchen?

Who needs/gets more sleep?

Who’s more laid back and who’s more hard working?

Who has more empathy?

If they were to adopt a pet together, what kind of pet would it be?

Who is more outgoing?

What is their love language?

Are they holding any secrets from each other?

Which one is more likely to cheat?

Which one first brings up the idea of having kids?

Who sleeptalks?

[mourndust]

‧₊˚♡ DAYWALKER // vampire!cait x hunter!vi x reader

hiiiiii, the pool results are loud and clear, so here it is my little promised piece. this here contains smut so please, 18+ minors dni, dead dove do not eat, mentions of murder, voyeurism, vaginal sex, strap-on cait is my vibe (give me more top!cait now), descriptions of blood, spit, fingering, oral sex — it's clear this is a threesome so well. reader is caitlyn's pretty pupil and we love our creator. also, yes this is smut but it is lesbian drama, that being said, there's a lot of jealousy, attempts of murder, treason, toxic relationships (pls they are vampires and i'm no emily dickinson), english is not my first language, so any mistakes i’m sorry. reblog, likes and comments are loved, enjoy the read!

you know there's something off with caitlyn from almost two weeks before the incident.

you don't really know what it is exactly, but since she made you take the bite almost six years ago you know it deep in your chest as your emotions are connected to her, a constant thought that lingered in her mind whether she likes it or not — the countess is hiding something, and it makes you sick in the stomach cause fuck: when did you two began to keep secrets from each other? more than a partner you’re a part of her; caitlyn’s blood runs in your veins, keeping your twisted nature alive each passing second, making her irrevocably, more than just a creator.

"you look worried baby, what is it?" you're so invested in knowing what she's doing in the shadows that you openly ask her, placing a soft kiss over her shoulder as if to calm her nerves down: it has to be something far more sordid than what you two did every time when it comes to feeding cause she has the nerve to stay silent even when the vampire knows every corner of her own mind it's actually infected by you.

she hides it anyway, and mad does not cover the whole emotion you're feeling in your chest when you're still trying to discover what the fuck is going on by the end of the week. you're nothing to her in the matter of the word — yes. she's your creator, and it's an unbreakable bond you'll always share. you'll always have to be close to her since she aches, physically for your company, but she's not yours in the sense of the word, and you're not her's either.

did she found another vampire to rely her pleasure on? the thought eats your brain like a parasite on a saturday night. the moon is hiding in the sky as the clock hits in the middle of the silence marking the hour: six in the morning and you find yourself pushing the thick door of your room to slide in the cold spaces of the castle instead of sleeping. a light breeze hits your uncovered shoulder, and you're quick to become one with the dark nature of the place you call home.

it's a lack of respect to appear in the chambers of your count uninvited, but your feet do not listen, compelled to pay a visit to her without a proper plan: maybe demand an answer? bend caitlyn against that expensive desk she spends so much time in? make her admit there’s something off with her lately while she's weak and pliable? somehow you'll make clear you are bounded to her, that in the end of all, she's yours.

and as the dark engulfs you, the path to caitlyn's room seem an eternity in the long hallways connecting the whole property. silent as you can only hear the sound of your footsteps against the marble of the ground, the whistle of the wind almost whispering to you until you can see her door at the end of the hallway. your feet come to a complete stop as your fingers tighten against the fabric of your night gown when you can notice the smell it in the air like a disease — a human.

the countess is hiding a human.

if you'd had a heart, it would probably race against the sudden news. a few more doors and you'll be right in front of her room like multiple times before, yet this time completely different than any other day: was she feeding without you? was she playing with her food like you two always did?

deep down, you know what it is. you can hear it too. playing dumb like that wasn't the moans of your countess, like that isn't the subtle smell of sex leaking through the barely opened door of her room. you stand close to the gap not daring to touch the door, keeping your whole body at a safe distance before giving in an just lean.

there it is. the fever in your own body as a response to how caitlyn's spread open in the mattress of her room with a fucking human feasting on her cunt, taking your spot as she's knees deep into the irregular floor, pink hair, and tattooed back full in display, acting like she owned the place.

the countess is fucking a human.

and it's not any human when you pay attention to the girl's details, the mark of a vampire hunter resting in the skin of her lower back, hiding in between the mechanic design you look for a while.

your countess is fucking a damn hunter.

she can be killed by the high council if they knew the treason she's committing in her own castle — on vampire ground, but instead of leaving, of making your creator aware you're there, you stay right where you are, peeking through the door unable to look away.

something is not right with you, all sorts of freak when you keep looking, drinking in the sight of the human making delightful sounds deep between the countess legs, hands wrapped up in her tights as she pulls her closer to her face — caitlyn’s a fucking mess.

of course she is. dark blue hair spread on the pillows, back arched and opened legs like a fucking offer to her, like the count did multiple times with you.

caitlyn’s moans fill the room, and you feel filthy by looking, but you cannot dare to move away, even when you try to avoid that feel of ache between your legs as you’re painfully aware of how good the hunter’s making her feel.

you’re connected, isn’t that right? it’s both a curse and a blessing when you swear you can feel it, the long and wide licks of the haunter’s tongue, her calloused hands trailing up her body like a map she’s just taunting, land she’s just discovering. man, you want to hate it all — but hate it’s a strong word when you feel so fucking good there at only inches, damping your panties cause the scene itself could turn on even a damn nun.

and you’re annoyed. hella annoyed as you’re puzzled in between shouting or still enjoying the view stupidly horny, but even annoyed, you don’t dare to move a muscle, blending with the dark as a red hue appears in your irises: maybe you could kill the human. end up the threat and remind the count what a hunter should be to her: food.

“tell me what you want-” you hear the pink haired talk — “please. wanna do good f’you cupcake.”

has caitlyn been fucking the hunter for a while? your mind turns fuzzy as they go, not really aware of your presence as you lick your lips, craving some blood to warm up the insides of your cold soul, the fire slowly spreading in the pit of your stomach. you should be making a scene, demanding your creator to give you explanations when she, herself, has said multiple times hunter's are not to be trusted, but instead, your feet seem glued to the marble floor, just thinking for a while how much you'd love to kneel too. be good.

you try to understand what it is with this human. maybe that's the only rational explanation you can come up with — you're looking because you need to know: what does the hunter has, that you don't?

"your tongue, vi" the count answer in a ragged voice. "your fingers- please."

she's close. the human knows it, you know it. it's like a shared secret. you've seen her like that before, pleading, erratic, asking for more when she can even handle what she's already receiving, yet vi, looks pleased by it, curling her fingers inside her leaky cunt until the sounds you can hear are nothing but a nasty symphony of her arousal dripping down the hunter's hand.

"listen to you, cait" the sound of her voice is muffled against her, leaving kisses over her tights, biting the count's skin pleased with the whole situation — "you're sucking me in baby, 'can feel your pretty pussy squeezing me already, gonna cum, cupcake?"

your hands shake, and you wonder, deep in the confines of your mind, if it would be so wrong to finger yourself too. eyes narrowing in pure envy when caitlyn's mumbling some stupid bullshit about feeling so full, of her fingers curving just right to rub on that spot she fucking loves. her body spasms while the hunter's taking care of the mess she just made, slowly, gently, almost to herself more than in search of her desire. like she need to have just a little more.

it's not the worst. the worst comes when caitlyn's pulling her, tossing her to bed to straddle her lap, vi's hands on the countess ass — almost controlling her movements when she's trying to make her move, ride her tight to come undone once again.

and caitlyn's a greedy bitch. your creator has always been a greedy bitch, so it's not a surprise when she's making full usage of her force to keep the hunter prisoner under her tights like it's nothing, towering against her broad figure to let her fingers roam against her naked form, the silver jewelry of vi's pierced nipples that has your creator licking her lips in need.

fuck caitlyn. fuck that nice feeling in your chest being so connected to her, the one that mingles with the pleasure in your guts, coils of desire forming even when you try to push them aside, tempted to join in like looking at them is not really perverted already as the countess uses her bare hand to keep her steady against the sheets, ethereal in contrast to the poor illumination of the night coming to an end.

"feed from me," something stirs in you when hearing the hunter asking for something that she should be terrified about "somewhere they won't see- bite me." the smell of the blood makes you dizzy as caitlyn leans against her skin, kissing her with nothing but longing before her teeth sink in without a previous warning, and the sound the human makes — god. you crave to hear it again as the countess pushes her fingers against the wound she made beneath her left breast, allowing her blood to run freely as she licks on every drip.

it's hard to resist. and you know now why cait's keeping her. sweet scent, warm blood, devastating pussy-eater. it makes sense when vi's whimpering against the cold touch of your countess, how the vampire is so invested in something that could get her killed. the hunter's blood fill the air of the room, placing itself beneath your nostrils as you breathed, not because you need it, but because of the delicious smell of her blood.

she's risking her life because she's damn worth it. every. single. drop.

and as vi whimpers, lightheaded, you seem to also make a sound, cause suddenly the count's tense before looking over her shoulder, cold gaze now glued to the spot you used to be, scanning the place as she could smell your scent disappearing on the wind.

you can hear the footsteps even after you're long gone, going back to your room so fast to slide in the fresh sheets of your bed, turning off the candles in hope that would deceive your creator into believing you're deep in your sleep.

count kiramman is ruthless. you know that very well as you close your eyes mere seconds before your creator is resting against your door frame, hands crossed against her chest as she simply studies you, like you two aren't connected and she won't know in the end you've seen her, that you were there.

it feels like a test when she stays there for five-eternal-fucking-minutes, watching if you move closely before going back to her chambers in silence.

you know she knows. you know it, cause you can feel the hunter's hands all over your body too.

being connected is both a blessing and a curse, wasn't it? as a young vampire, you didn't really care about it until now.

there's no way caitlyn don't know.

even in the next days when she acts all happy and nice with you — it's all because she knows it. she knows you were there, that you knew about her biggest treason to her own kind.

was it an act? you've heard about creators killing their protégées, making fun of the idea before experiencing it first hand: will the countess kill you? she has a temper for sure, but enough to get rid of you? never. despite all tries to calm yourself down, you find yourself looking from over your shoulder multiple times in plain dark, barely sleeping through the day as you're too worried to wake up to her impaling you during the broad daylight.

it's rational that you're hurt, rational about your plans to get rid of the threat that is compromising your comfortable life, so you stay far from the countess as much as you can, surprising her to the point she's now questioning your presence like she didn't get you're heartsick ever since you find her with a hunter.

fuck. why does she have to be like that? why does she always want to have it all?

it pisses you off how she’s acting like everything's okay, like she cannot feel it too, that ache in your chest whenever you're close. you can smell the hunter's perfume like a new scent on caitlyn and you fucking hate it every time. furiously whenever you catch it, making up excuses about random things to avoid the count as you go to your room, plotting more plans that would fail miserably to just- kill her.

it becomes a need soon. so much you start to dream about it, the need to feast on your lover's pet only to leave her dry in front of her eyes — to hell if caitlyn's mad.

"i need to speak to you," the count's dark blue hair shines thanks to the light of the candles in your room, taking a look of the insides as you stand in front of her, barely covered in a white sheer nightgown that caitlyn feels it makes you even more desirable to look at, exposed cleavage as her eyes followed the moles that got lost in between your breasts—. "in my room."

"i know i've been weird lately. and i was hoping we could talk," she tries to convince you after seeing your annoyed expression: is that all it takes? a sexy outfit and some indifference? — "i'm not really asking."

the power she has over you must be studied, cause you simply nod as she leaves, making you promise you'll be in her room in an hour not a minute past midnight. so usually, that would mean a good old fuck, but now? now you're not really sure about what's going to expect you in that room.

will she be honest for once? admit she's been engaging relations with a hunter? putting them all at danger? it's stupid how torn she makes you, but you're standing there forty minutes later cause you're weak, and you'd hear anything she'd have to say not because you have to, but because you need to hear it.

so as you enter, it caughts you off-guard cause the hunter is there over her bed and you think it should all be an illusion but her gaze seems buried in you, very aware of your presence there in the count's room — "is this a tramp?" you ask, and the human's laughing as she props herself over her elbows, looking at the whole scene as if she's waiting for the next instructions.

"sit down," caitlyn’s voice is more of a command one than a plea. the tone she uses to make you do things, compelled by a force that's pulling you to the chair of her desk before you could even understand her words — "in the bed."

the scent of vi's blood is nothing but alluring as the hunter stays at a considerable distance when you both share the count's bed. naked shoulder on display for you to lean forward and just-

"you seem to forget about the fact that i can hear what you're thinking, love" the countess accent is a caress against your cheek, a gentle touch as she speaks.

"never" you admit as the vampire moves to stand between your legs, fingers tightening against your jaw to make you look at her.

"speak louder."

"i said never."

"then you think i'd never knew you were looking at us standing outside of my room like a pervert? that i'd forget easily?"

her tone is like a million cutting glasses in your skin, a taste of her temper as you blush, probably for the blood you consumed earlier, ashamed of her words — "you- you're fucking a hunter in vampire soil. risking it all for a human!"

"but you stayed to look, huh?" caitlyn demands, squeezing your cheeks harshly as her grip tightens each passing time — "stayed to see me cum like a dirty slut. leaved the place stinking with your fucking mess, made you soak your panties right in the hallways and you thought i- we were going to let it pass?"

she's cocky when right. enjoying the fact she has the last word as usual — "answer me."

"yes" you admit shamelessly — "i know i shouldn't have look."

“yes what?”

“yes count kiramman.”

"thing is, we're not really mad at that, aren't we?" she asks as the human shakes her head with a hum. "what i'm mad at is having you spent the whole week acting like resentful minx. this whole act of direspect.”

"this human can get everyone killed my count. you know it."

this time it’s the hunter who’s openly laughing when hearing you, shaking her head unfazed — “no one is finding this out, troublemaker. no one is going to kill anyone, don’t have to worry about me sweetheart.”

you look at her like she’s fucking crazy, staring at her freckles until you come across her blue eyes, trying to know if she’s going to jump to kill you anytime. however, you grow distracted by her features, finding in the rough exterior something magnetic that calls you in, a sudden need to touch her naked shoulder to leave a sloppy kiss to her bare skin.

“you like her too,” caitlyn seem pleased to look, staring down at your figure seated in the corner of her bed. there’s no explanation to how her words make you feel, how her voice tickles something in your brain — “i know you do. such a fucking mess for a hunter. can smell your cunt dripping just like before.”

“i don’t-” it’s pathetic how you try to hide it, how you’re so invested in a plain lie you don’t fully believe. violet’s smell is like a knife straight to the chest as she’s there, expectant, and fuck, the hunter’s gaze is so intense soon after you can feel it somehow, blue irises drinking in the sight of that lacy night gown that’s showing enough cleavage to let her wondering sight study you.

“no more lies,” the count says, shaking her head in disapproval — “i want your full honest or else i’ll get rid of you and your poor conduct.”

it’s impossible not to shiver when vi’s lips come in contact with your naked skin without a previous warning, soft kisses like the ones you wanted to give her before in your very own shoulder— “c’mon bloodsucker, don’t be mean. you’re a pretty vampire aren’t you?”

“yes- i’ll beheave” you answer — “i’ll be good i promise-”

the hunter’s words sends shiver down your spine as caitlyn’s grip in your jaw tightens for a second time, making you look up to her as the human continues on her own bubble. the feeling of her soft kisses is a huge contrast with the vampire’s cold fingers, and good fuck. you know you’re in trouble when you’re craving the warm feeling of the human’s skin, the blood pumping on her veins so close to you — “kiss her.”

the countess gaze search yours as her command lingers in the air, and you look like you don’t believe it at first: kiss her personal toy? did you hear that right? — “you know you want to. kiss her.”

violet’s eyes change to a darker shade of blue almost expectant of your next move, and you’re there, trying to remember she’s the enemy, jeopardized in your own feelings: why do you want to kiss her too? your fingers trace the shape of her lips, lingering on her scars as the hunter’s breathing hitches on her throat: weren’t you about to kill her? weren’t you ready to claim the count as yours? finish all the threats? it doesnt make sense now how a creature made to kill is so invested now in pulling you closer just to steal a deep, demanding kiss.

it’s a game. you’re nothing but a prime killer, top tier in the food pyramid and the human’s there, looking at you with pleading eyes like you’re not remotely near to be a predator. and you want it. pouring in your chest like a long lost need, something you’re craving yet somehow never realized it before.

vi’s lips are soft under her scars, pushing her tongue against yours in a saliva-filled kiss, wondering hands as she steals a moan — oh how quick she forgot you’ve sworn on killing her too! how quick she forgot she’s trained to kill you and the countess as she seems very into the kiss now, leaving a sweet scent in the air that mingles with her own arousal.

it’s almost a victory when you can smell her soaking panties, a trophy you’re planning to keep on your memories as you seek for more.

“aren’t you a charmer?” violet says sharing a look with the countess as if looking for permission — “are all vampires like this? so hot and bothered so easily?”

“no,” you answer sharply, almost offended — “most would kill you. pretty things like you should be destroyed.”

“don’t kill her” the count says as the hunter squeezes your breast when she notices how you’re not pushing away but in, kissing her until she’s choking on something so basic as breathing — “no feeding until i say so, get it? use your words and tell me you understand.”

“yes,” you soon shake your head, looking at vi’s chest filling up with air at the lack of it— “ i understand, no feeding- i’ll do it.”

“that’s more like it,” caitlyn praises as you’re crawling over on your hands on knees to corner the human against the bed, caging in between the mattress and your own body — “wasn’t so hard, see?”

you want to say something, deny it even, but fuck, how could you when you’re so lost in a hunter? bitting her with just enough force to make her body shiver in need, a tease when her reactions to you are like a vice. it’s not your fault when you’re breaking the bandages of her chest, tearing them appart without really making force.

“hey-” violet’s ready to whine before you lean against her breasts, squeezing them between your hands before sucking her nipple in, taking special time on marking her down as if you wanted to rip her off caitlyn’s property and make it your own. the barbell of her pierced breasts only seems to add to her pleasure as she seems to forgot about what she’s going to bark about, a competition almost as the countess makes you stay on your hands and knees, pushing you further into vi’s tits only to make your ass lift up in the perfect position.

“you’ve been nothing but a problem, forgetting about your place” her words are slurred as she moves you in the way she wants you to be, ass up, face buried in the hunter’s chest before spanking you until her whole hand is visible on your ass-cheeks — “should i remind you that i made you? that you’re mine too?”

you’re too zoned out to answer, kisses travelling from vi’s chest to her stomach as the sharp angles on her body now melt away against your lips, traces of visible saliva on her skin as she parts her legs like an invitation, leaving enough space for you to settle between them.

fuck her. the hunter knows what she’s doing, looking down to you as she moans and writhe, silently asking for more like good human pet.

“i can see now why caitlyn’s keeping you” you say, fingers purposefully moving now to reach her black underwear — “you got this nice smell on you and fuck. i could devour you whole, you don’t really understand.”

you aren’t aware of your ass being at the count’s behest, however, the strap is around cait’s waist as she uses her right hand to cup your cunt like it’s hers cause it is. and in her dingy room, her index fingers teases over the fabric of your underwear only to dampen her finger with it, looking, interested, how you’re pulling vi’s panties to the side, licking your own finger to just tease her entrace too.

she’s sensitive as you spit against your fingers, the feeling of your slick saliva in her sensitive sex as you look up to her, the blush on her face that matches her hair and makes your stomach do this thing you don’t even know it can do, a warm feeling spreading all over.

pink pussy on display, a rough slap on your ass and suddenly, caitlyn’s pulling down your panties to your knees, middle finger teasing your entrance without really going in, angling you down to where she needs you to be— “eat her up,” she breathes out, coaxing you into doing what you’ve been craving to since the beggining. “go on. feast on her pretty cunt, want to see you enjoying it.”

it alleviate all your aches, the weight on your back, the worry you’ve been going through the week, the anger you’ve been gathering on the pit of your stomach as the count buries her finger in your aching hole, pushing it inside until her knuckles are brushing against your core and you’re arching your back, presenting your ass to her without dismissing your current job.

she’s elegant even where her actions are nothing but filthy, taking her time in stretching you out as you sink in between vi’s legs.

it’s desesperation what invades you, a depravity that makes you surrender to her, to both of them. moans are muffled against the hunter’s cunt and suddenly you’re eating her up like a meal, tongue rounding her clit in slow, controlled strokes. “fingers-” vi whines, arching her back as she searches for more of your mouth, of your fingers stretching her open without fully sinking in — “please, please use your fingers.”

“so pretty when you beg-” you say, becoming a fucking mess against caitlyn’s fingers itself, moving against her digits to make them reach deeper as your own do the same, burying them in the human’s cunt, mixing up your caresses with your tongue until you can only taste her, flavour filling up your bucal cavity like candy — “ngh-fuck. you’re so warm-”

it’s making your mind go dizzy as vi’s pussy suck up your fingers, delving deeper as they curl inside her dripping cunt, arousal now dripping to your palm making you satisfied as ever.

it’s such a fucking sight.

trapped between the hunter’s pussy and the count’s cock she’s pushing against your leaking cunt, finally burying herself until it reaches that nice, velvety spot you enjoy almost too much so the pleasure becomes unbearable, her fingers leave your channel to be replaced with the her dick, making you look from over your shoulder as profanities leave your lips in response — she loves it. the vampire gets off your messy look, your swollen lips as you finger violet stupid, the blue rubber cock dragging along your walls, pushing against your cervix to take what she wants.

“such a whore, taking me all the way in,” she mutters “good girl letting me fuck you like this, sucking my cock in- keep eating her, c’mon, you’re losing focus baby.”

and god she’s so right. vi’s looking at you through half lidded eyes, lost in the squelch sound as your fingers quickly fuck her, curling inside as she seems interested now in the way caitlyn’s pistoning her hips against your sore sex, pushing her thumb against the entrance of your pucker hole, teasing you only cause she knows you like far more than you’re willing to admit.

connected. you are connected to the count so hell— caitlyn swore she can feel your walls clenching against her dick, your arousal dripping down your tights to stain the sheets of her bed, your sloppy, erratic licks against vi’s cunt and her fucking taste in your mouth.

vi’s abs clench as she’s close, muscles flexing as you look up to her, connecting your gaze to the powder blue eyes, sweat covering her skin in such a human reaction, arching her back to your mouth as she pulls you closer, taking the strands of your hair between shaky fingers — “m’gonna cum- fuck m’gonna cum-”

the smell. god her smell is driving you insane. fuelled by caitlyn’s rough movements impaling you relentlessly, you swear your vision turns hazy.

“bite her,” the count manages to say composed as ever, looking down to both the hunter and her cute pupil — “you’ve been craving her blood since you saw us. bite her.”

you look up to the human almost asking for permission, like you really give a fuck about her opinions before she nods unaware of her surroundings. and there’s a pulsating vein on her inner tight you can feel pulsating over and over again like the key to heaven, a kiss or two, a slow lick as your fingers sissor inside her pussy and suddenly you’re bitting her with an unknown force, tearing up the sensitive skin to finally, finally have a taste of what you’ve been thinking about from almost two weeks.

it’s common that young vampires are unaware of their force, common that they take so much without noticing, so you think about it for a second, her warmth flowing inside of you only to renew your energy, a new vigor as your fingers greedely fuck her to reduce her into pieces — it would be so easy to just- end up with her.

that’s the emotion of all, you think. making her lightheaded to the point she’s not sure of where she finishes and where you begin, until her blood is staining the countess sheets and you’re sucking, like a fucking leech, the blood that comes out the open wound.

you can feel the hunter orgasm pouring in, the way her pussy spams in your hand, the loud moans as she loses control of herself, shaking beneath you. it’s such a lovely sight as you drink, taking more of her like you werent satisfied already, the pain mixing up deliciously with the pleasure you’re bringing to her.

so when violet cums, you can feel it everywhere. a demolition that crushes her down, destroying that façade of the bad big hunter to reduce her to a babbling mess, trembling against your fingers as she whines when you continue on sucking her blood, not caring about her uneven breathing.

“i said, don’t fucking kill her,” caitlyn’s rough voice it’s the only thing you can hear as she takes you by the hair, pulling on your strands harshly as she takes you away from her leg, keeping your head up as her hips crashes over and over again with renewed energy, the hunter’s pliable body beneath you as her hand comes up to choke you, not really harsh when she’s weak, but gripping your neck and tucking the messy strands of your hair beneath your hair.

“such a pretty pet,” the hunter says, looking down to you even when she’s still lightheaded from the blood loss— “let’s keep her, can we keep her?”

the countess hums in response, you’re her’s but she can share right? she can share a bit.

vi’s hand slides down to your clit, and it’s just right when her fingers move in circles, an added pleasure that makes your body shake, intense coils of ecstasy now forming in your belly as electricity travels down your spine, making your body burn without a previous warning.

it’s delicious- the way you reach your peak, a high you cannot come down as you ride your orgasm, face disorted in pleasure as your vision turns blurry, caitlyn’s burying the rubber cock as far as your cunt allow it just to leave it there— keeping you full of her as a way to remind you who owns you, you made you like this.

fuck.

maybe you are going to be acussed of treason too, cause when vi’s pushing you forward to make you sit on her face you don’t have any questions about it, surrendering to her touch in seconds.

pathetic. you love it.

[lady-lostmind]

GIVE A SHIT

Written for @steddiebingo Kissing Booth Prompt: Dress Up

Rating: T | WC: 631

Thank you @oh-stars for betaing!!

“This is stupid, Buckley. I look like an idiot. This is never going to work.” Eddie’s face scrunches in disgust as he stares in the mirror, tugging at the secondhand suit jacket Robin shoved onto his shoulders. 

Robin rolls her eyes, “You always look like an idiot.” She pulls Eddie to face her and wraps a tie around his neck. “You guys have been dancing around each other for too long. It’s getting ridiculous.”

Eddie scoffs. “And you think this–” He gestures to himself in his best, non-ripped black jeans, black dress shirt, and the stupid fucking jacket. “Is the solution?”

Robin glares at him while she ties the tie. “No. I think you getting your head out of your ass and actually making a move is the solution.” 

“And this is the move? Dressing like some yuppie in a suit!?” 

Robin flicks him on the forehead, grinning meanly when he yelps and rubs the sore spot. “I think actually making an effort and showing Steve you actually give a shit, is the move.” 

Eddie’s face drops. “Is that what he thinks? That I don’t give a shit?” 

Robin sighs and she smoothes out his tie. “Steve doesn’t think anyone gives a shit about him.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Even I have to constantly remind him or he gets all in his head about it and pulls away.” 

Eddie shakes his head, looking down at his ridiculous outfit with a sigh. “Do I buy him flowers?”

He glances back up and sees Robin smiling widely. “I think that’s a great idea.” 

Eddie shows up at Steve’s house with a bouquet of roses, and a baggie of weed, feeling ridiculous as he knocks on the door. He wants to be with Steve. And Robin is right. They’ve been dancing around this for close to a year. But he doesn’t know how to do this. He’s not– He’s never really had a relationship. He’s never really cared that much. He’s never–

Steve opens the door, eyes going wide when he sees Eddie. “Eds, what–”

“I give a shit.” Great. Really solid start, Eddie.

Steve’s brow furrows. “Okay–”

Eddie sighs, pushing past Steve and pushing the flowers to his chest. “These are for you.”

Steve’s eyes go all sparkly as he looks down at the flowers in his hand, a little smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

Eddie starts pacing. “I’m not good at this, okay? I know I’ve probably been fucking this up, majorly, and I’m sorry about that. And I know you deserve better than a trailer trash freak but–”

Steve’s face goes soft. “Eds–”

Eddie shakes his head. “I know, I know. But please, just hear me out, okay? Robin said I have a shot. And I figure she knows. And I know this–” He gestures to himself and the flowers. “Is all a little cheesy and over the top but I do give a shit. About you. I give a lot of shits about you. All the shits, honestly and–”

Steve takes a step forward. “Eds–”

Eddie shakes his head holding his hands out in front of him. “I know I’m probably not what you imagined for your life. I know this is–” He sighs. “I just want you to be happy. And I think that maybe– Maybe I can make you happy. If you give me a chance.”

Steve crosses his arms over his chest with a sigh and Eddie’s heart sinks. “Are you done?”

Eddie stops pacing in front of him, his body slumping in defeat. He knew this was a bad idea. “Yeah. I guess I am.”

Steve smiles, wide and cocky as he strides forward. “Good.” He cups Eddie’s jaw and leans in close. “Because I’m going to kiss you now.”

[berrybore]

I 100% agree that canon Sally made choices against Percy’s best interest at times but I don’t necessarily think Gabe was one of them.

Let me explain, we do know that Sally knew about Poseidon and camp, there’s a very really possibility that she also knew about the prophecy to an extent. As in, she must have known her son would be in a crazy amount of danger just for being born. We know from the text that Poseidon waited until the last moment he could before claiming Percy, until his powers essentially revealed to the whole camp who he was. That’s how dangerous it was for him to be found out.

I really don’t think Percy should have been raised at camp, that fact that he had a well-meaning, loving mother is one of the biggest things that set him apart from Luke.

I do think she should have sent him to camp earlier than she did but not years earlier like maybe you were suggesting. I also agree that it was an inherently selfish decision to keep him close. She certainly didn’t do him any favors by sending him away to boarding school after boarding school where he was always the new kid, always harassed, and even physically punished by the teachers in one of them (staff of Hermes).

She was in an impossible situation and she made choices purely out of survival not stability or safety cause they had neither. But this way he wouldn’t be outright killed. But Percy is a child and he needs both, so he grows up with low self esteem, neglected, abused emotionally and physically, and without a single friend in the world with how often he changes schools. He can’t talk to his mother either because she’s a little in denial and when Percy asks hard questions she gets emotional, and he feels guilty when he upsets his mom so he stops asking altogether.

(I do believe that she went into the relationship with Gabe with her eyes open and maybe that made it harder for her to admit to herself that she was stuck, that the man she was sure she could face down near damn swallowed her whole, because she chose this, of course in her mind she was still in control but I digress. )

I think as soon as Grover and Chiron were in the picture she should have told him. Instead she told Grover not to do anything. There was a fury at the school, he was found out and attacked, why was he still there for an entire semester after the incident?

We know they didn’t tell her about the fury because we know she didn’t know. Chiron mishandled that big time because it was at that point that it became evident that whatever scent Gabe was hiding wasn’t working. Him following her wishes to the point of keeping Percy at school after an attack from a kindly one without even informing his mother of what happened is actually crazy. Hades found him and sent him a fury to his school. Right under chirons nose. Percy was serving detention with her late into the night sometimes. They should have called Sally and taken Percy to camp together. Instead he was gaslit by everyone to the point of questioning his sanity. Ran away form Grover when they met the fates and Grover still refused to say a word. Didn’t say anything to his mom because why would he at this point, who would even believe him?. Not to mention the very traumatic introduction to the demigod life by watching his mother die right in front of him.

I just think about all the individual choices that Sally, Grover, and Chiron made that led to that night on half blood hill and I think how much it didn’t need to happen.

All three of them failed him.

Sally Jackson choice safety over stability in terms of how she'd take care of her child. Both her and Percy faced years abuse by the hands of one man. Does this make her a good mother who was in over her head or an unprepared one making an impulsive decision?

You found the one hot take even I haven’t dared say aloud yet, because I think it may just be my most unpopular opinion in this fandom. One thing everyone in this fandom seems to agree on is the “universal truth” that Sally Jackson is the best mother in the history of fictional mothers. So, here’s my hot take:

Sally Jackson is not that perfect mother the fandom pretends she is.

Sally during the series? Presented as a loving and good mother. But to get to that point? Pre-series Sally is not written as a good mom; she’s written as a plot-device with the things the author needs to happen in mind and not the motivation of a good mother who prioritizes her child’s happiness and safety in mind.

And I’ll back that claim up with three ways in which Sally has failed Percy as a mother. Not just once, but repeatedly, for years.

But before we get into that, I’d like to switch what you said first. Sally Jackson chose stability over safety. Sally chose the stability of keeping her child at her side over said child’s safety. She made an inherently selfish decision that was not with her child’s best interest and overall safety in mind.

Now, the first - and most obvious one - is Smelly Gabe.

And before I can elaborate on that, I need to clarify one very important thing here, before anyone goes “don’t blame the victim!” on me: Sally Jackson is not a victim; she’s a fictional character. Fictional characters can be written as victims, but they are not autonomous people who make their own choices; their choices are very deliberately made by their author for them. And I want to look at the choices that went into writing her this way, writing her story this way.

Real abuse victims get stuck in abusive relationships for a variety of reasons and they don’t get out of them for equally various reasons. Most of the time, it’s something like “he was so sweet and kind at first, but by the time he showed his real face, it was too late” (and, as a note to that; Percy describes Gabe as having been nice to them for a total of thirty seconds before showing his real face. Now while that is, of course, and exaggeration, it still goes to say that Gabe was pretty much upfront about what kind of person he was).

I’ve never heard one start with “he was the most disgusting, grossest man I could possibly find”. Sally Jackson chose this man. Not just in the way one picks a partner. She went out there and chose the stinkiest, grossest man.

It was a deliberate choice on Riordan’s part to have Sally choose an abusive relationship over sending her son away for his own safety. And this decision did not keep Percy safe; Percy Jackson was abused in his own home, by a horribly stinking man, for six years of his life. That’s not keeping your child safe.

The choice was not made to keep Percy safe; the choice was made to keep Percy with Sally. It was inherently selfishly motivated; she didn’t want to send him away, she wanted to keep him with her.

Sally loves Percy, she loves him dearly and fiercely, I’m not arguing that. But that love led to her not wanting to let go of him. And sometimes, parenting means making tough choices, sometimes loving someone means you have to make a tough decision.

In this case, the “tough decision” is presented as Sally bravely putting up with six years of abuse at Gabe’s hand. That’s the narrative chosen by the author.

But the actual “tough decision” would have been to send Percy to Camp Half-Blood, where he would have been safe. That’s the tough choice a mother would have had to make to keep her child safe.

That’s the tough choice the parents of most of the year-rounders have made. Mister Beauregard sent his daughter all the way from Paris to New York to give her this safety. The distance alone guaranteeing he wouldn’t see her for years potentially - because flying between New York and Paris is not necessarily easily affordable for everyone. Sally’s option was to send Percy to a camp that’s literally one and a half hours away. She could have still seen him, he could have easily visited her.

But her solution was to mask Percy’s scent by marrying a stinking, gross, abusive man.

Let me just stretch once more: Sally’s choice did not keep Percy safe. Sally’s choice made their home unsafe. It brought the danger and pain into their home. It may have moderately protected Percy from monsters - until The Lightning Thief kicked in - but it did not keep Percy actually safe, because it put him into a different kind of danger and through a different kind of pain.

For six years. And, this is where the “not a real person but a fictional character” thing comes up again, because this isn’t a woman where one choice leads to a date with a man which leads to a relationship which leads to abuse that she doesn’t know how to get out of anymore. She is a fictional character whose journey was set out to end with her being in an abusive relationship.

And we also don’t know why she didn’t get out of it. She’s not a real person, we don’t know if she was so scared of Gabe that she didn’t know how to leave, if her lack of a support system is what led to her not leaving him, or if it was the motivation of not giving up Percy. The real, actual reason is that Riordan wanted to keep her in there and keep Percy out of the loop until he was twelve and The Lightning Thief could happen. Because she was able of getting rid of him as soon as the truth unravelled and Percy met camp.

And I’d like to use the way she did that to drive back home just how bad Gabe was, just how bad the situation Sally and Percy were in for six years, really was.

She murders him. She flat-out murders him. Both, her and Percy, together. This twelve-year old child who we meet and get to know as kind and not... not a murder-child, is ready to kill a man. That’s how badly Gabe abused them; both of these kind people chose murder to get rid of him.

And it’s just something I’ve never gotten over. Riordan really made the decision that his protagonist’s mom would rather get them both into an abusive home than give Percy up to camp. That was his decision; there could have been other ways. One thing that would have made this seem less like a deliberate choice would have, for example, been Sally not knowing about camp.

If she was a desperate mother, who saw no other options? That’d have made the situation different too. But we know Sally knew about camp. She knew there was a place she could send her son where he would be safe from the monsters, but she decided against that, she decided that she wanted to keep him close, at any costs - and the cost was six years of abuse.

I do not think that this decision should be framed as a heroic sacrifice, because the fact that she knew of an actually safe solution and decided against it was inherently selfish. She did not put up with six years of abuse for selfless reasons because there was “no other way”; there was, she knew that, but the author didn’t want her to take that.

Sometimes, the sacrifice is letting go of your child. And, as mentioned before, she wouldn’t have let go of him for good - camp is in the same bloody city as she is living. Literally one and a half hours away from her.

Now on to the other two ways in which I think Sally Jackson failed Percy.

For one, the lies about his father. Now, real people who are left by their partner with a baby, they can pick whatever to tell their kids whenever. But, again, this is a fictional character and the author makes the decision for her. And this, again, was a decision made solely based on the end result; Riordan needed Percy to not be in the know by the time The Lightning Thief came around, even though from a character-perspective, telling Percy the truth earlier would have been the logical and right decision.

If your kid is a demigod who is attracting real actual monsters with his scent alone? Percy started really attracting monsters when he was six years old and for the next six years, Sally didn’t disclose the truth to him; not about monsters, not about his father, not about the fact that Percy may have powers.

Percy attracted so many monsters that it led to Sally getting married to Gabe. That’s how badly he attracted monsters. Which also implies that Percy must have seen monsters. We get to see in The Lightning Thief just how much Percy thinks he’s going crazy with the things he sees. And that’s  been going on for six years too - six years and in those, his scent only got stronger.

This, again, isn’t just one decision she made. This is a decision she made every single day over and over again. The decision not to tell Percy about his father, the powers, the simple reassurance that he’s not going insane, that monsters are real. This was Percy’s reality and it would obviously only become more and more of an issue the older Percy got, but every single day, she chose not to tell him, to let him believe not just a lie but also steadily that he was going crazy.

And it’d have gone a long way if he had just known. Even with Gabe in their life, even if she hadn’t made the choice to send him to camp at age six, it’d have helped him so much to know the truth and be prepared for this life.

Because this wasn’t just an issue of “the guy left me, I don’t want to talk about it with my kid”, this was inherently about, once more, Percy’s safety. Knowing what to watch out for, knowing the thing you should watch out for is actually real, are huge factors in Percy’s safety. Having him as well-prepared as possible.

She knew his father was Poseidon. It’s not even that she had sex with some dude, not knowing who he was. She knew he was Poseidon. She knew what Percy’s parentage was, she must have observed the slow development of Percy’s powers over the years.

But again, she chose to leave him in the dark about it. He could have been well-prepared by age twelve. Read up everything on Poseidon, experimented with potential powers he may have, understanding why the fishes in the aquarium are talking to him and that he is not actually hearing voices, learning.

But that’s not useful for the author; Riordan wants an unprepared Percy who can be used to introduce this world to the reader.

The choice to not tell Percy the truth about his father and about being a demigod was made deliberately and, again, not in Percy’s best interest. And in this case, there really is no other interpretation left aside from “the author needs it to happen this way” - with Gabe, there is the legitimate argument that she may have been at one point just an abused woman stuck in a relationship with no out because we don’t know enough to know what her motivation and situation were exactly - but there is... no benefit at all in lying to Percy about this, no reason for it.

The moment he first started being in actual life-threatening danger because monsters came after him, it became a pressing matter to tell him what monsters are, that they are real and why they are after him and to prepare him for it.

Which brings me to the third instance.

She never prepared him - even just in a mortal manner. Even if we let the first two - the marriage to Gabe and the lies about his father - stand as they are, Sally could have done something very simple to prepare Percy for his life and to help keeping him safe.

Self-defense classes. Judo. Martial arts. Sword-fighting classes. Whatever.

Many parents teach their kids these kind of things from a young age. Parents whose kids aren’t in constant danger of being attacked by monsters. One of your first parental instincts should be to teach your kid to be safe; to protect themselves. Give him the means to fight back.

So, that’s it. That’s the three very vital and important instances in which I think Sally failed Percy as a mother; not just once, but repeatedly, for years.

Instead of sending him to a safe place where he could learn about his heritage and learn control of his powers as well as learning how to fight the monsters after his life, she chose to marry an abusive, smelly man whose scent would mask Percy’s. Probably. Hopefully. But it didn’t really, not all the time. As shown by The Lightning Thief and monsters coming after Percy. And Percy starts to think he’s crazy, because at no point did she tell him about the monsters, and at no point does he really know how to fight for his life, because at no point did she put the means to defend himself into his hands.

No. No, I do not think that those are the decisions a good mother would make. Those are decisions the author made because he knew the starting point of his story and he knew where Percy’s character needed to be for that.

The thing that’s glossed over are the choices Riordan implicitly made Sally make. To get to this point for Percy, at age 12, he had to make Sally repeatedly act against Percy’s best interests and deliberately not tell Percy the truth or teach him way to stay safe. So he masks those choices by putting on a framework that’s meant to make you only look at her suffering and the outcome, not the choices that led to it. That was Riordan’s choice and he framed it in a way that the fandom ate up and celebrates, when... neither Sally, nor Riordan, had do to that. There was another option on the table and, if Riordan had sat down and thought hard, I’m pretty sure there would have been more options.

The bottom line, what Sally’s parenting comes down to in the end, is that she and Percy got stuck with an abusive man for six years, because she didn’t want to send him to an actual safe place, she spent six years essentially gaslighting Percy about the things he hears/sees by not telling him the monsters are actually real and she repeatedly left him in unnecessary danger by not giving him the means to defend himself in any way whatsoever. And those are not signs of good parenting, not in my book.

But it’s just so much easier to ignore all of that and pretend that blue candy and trips to Montauk are the end all be all and that Sally’s fierce love for her son is the most defining trait of parenting. I know that. Most of the time, I’m right there with you - I love fanon!Sally, I love to pretend she’s the best mom ever and never did anything wrong, because I know the decisions are inherently made by Riordan and are a by-product; I know he wants her to be a good mother, I know throughout the series, he writes her as a good and loving mother.

But if I have to be honest and if I look at the whole text, including the implications of their past, canon!Sally isn’t that good of a mother.

[kathelovecatsandfeminism]

He's Rick

warnings: rick grimes x reader; angst with happy end; smut; a little of spanking; pet names; rick needs a hug; mention of lori, carl and judith; p in v; unprotected sex; confession of feelings; fluff; heavy eye contact; no use of y/n; The spelling has not been fully revised and it is always good to remember that English is not my first language, so be nice. I think that's all.

Night had already fallen over Alexandria, but unlike sleeping on the road, here the darkness was not dangerous, the dim lights of the streetlamps dispelled the darkness, as did the lights from the windows of some houses. It didn't seem real, a place to really live, a house to take care of and a comfortable bed to sleep in, clean clothes, vegetable gardens for the kitchens and generators bringing the heat of the lights, it didn't seem real after so much death, so much human decay that had passed before your eyes.

It also seemed very ungrateful of you to be feeling so miserable while others celebrated the blessing of being able to “celebrate” the life that walls provide. You still didn’t know how you felt about it, “normality” was almost a stranger to you now. Your mother would have said “ungrateful girl.” You didn’t like to think about her. 

But the sadness was there, settled in your chest, painful and suffocating after so much crying, eyes red as the tip of your nose. That was why you were standing in the kitchen, dressed in a pretty dress — a gift from Deanna — you wouldn’t allow yourself to be seen like this. It’s funny how the most subtle thing can make us crumble. So why?

…..ah grimes, that was it wasn’t it?

It all started with an innocent conversation, because the devil is in the small details.

You were invited by Deanna for a short horse ride around the city, a bureaucratic conversation, you always knew how to sniff them out at your old job, at home. The group was causing problems, no….. no, Rick was causing problems and you were Rick's right-hand man, it was rational to turn to you, wasn't it?

But again no. For Deanna it was natural to turn to his woman, because is this what you were, obviously….. weren't you?

She must have noticed the moment when confusion turned to realization and ended in disappointment on your face, because she - very delicately - apologized for the assumption, it took a lot of strength in you to utter a simple "don't worry". The ride home was silent.

An observation took over your thoughts, between constant escapes, arguing and surviving today to fight tomorrow, you never had the privilege of being able to think about the meaning of your relationship with Rick, worse, you never wanted to actually face what you knew you felt for him. There are commanding words of priorities in your mind that developed to find a home here, somewhere along that path the two of you became inseparable, to the point that seeing one could have found the other too.

You knew him from before the zombies, your father was an officer of his officer, you saw each other a few times and talked even less, he seemed like a good man. But now looking back he was always there, he covered your back - even too much - and you did the same for him. He helped him with the children, maybe a little more than the others. It had been a while since Carl had asked you to comb his hair, even with your fingers, it had become a habit and you knew who he was pretending you were.

Judith was still a little thing who liked to sleep with you

Rick helped you with your younger sister - teenagers are worse in the apocalypse - she couldn't help but believe in the loss of her parents and sometimes she was filled with rage because you hadn't come back to look for them - but there was nothing to come back to - she screamed and pushed you like a child, in those moments it was Rick who calmed her down, you never knew how he did it. 

Not that everything was perfect, you fought too and badly, two stubborn people when they thought they were sure of something. It was Rick who made peace most of the time.

 No matter what happened, one would find the other like a magnet, he had promised you that when your world fell apart and only he was there to lift it up. It was in his arms that you slept on very cold nights. Having him seemed right, there was something there, something that until then you pretended not to see. 

But did you really have him?

Admitting to Deanna that you weren't hurt, it burned your skin and the wounded pride created a balloon in your throat that made it hard to breathe, you cried.

For some reason you felt so small and ashamed, you didn't have the courage to question him, what if he thought there was nothing to question? just a good friend and nothing more? Your head hurt, because everything was so confusing, you weren't ready to see him again.

It had been a week since the conversation with Deanna, a week since you gave a flimsy excuse to Rick and Carl, that Michonne needed you close. A week since you ran away like a coward. It was in her kitchen where you cried.

but he's Rick, he knows you

So it was no surprise when he appeared at your door - Michonne's door actually - breathless and blushing as if it had been hard for him to come here.

"hi"

"hi" came out almost silent

You both spent a few seconds standing in the doorway, his eyes were so warm - even if more tired than usual in contradiction to the new reality that out of habit or a second nature of yours, you moved away so he could enter, there was not a single day that you denied him from entering your life or your heart.

You walked towards the kitchen and in silence he followed you as he always did.

Rick in the dim yellow light of the kitchen looked more handsome than ever. He had gotten rid of all that beard, his hair was still wet and combed back, with curls at the ends indicating that he had just gotten out of the shower. He wore a white shirt that was tight on his biceps, a little short above the waistband of his pants, a worn blue wash, he always looked good in blue - he looked younger - and he wore those damn boots on his feet. 

He was still as handsome as the day he came back into your life, a certain warmth settled in your chest. 

However, as much as he looked good, he also looked defeated, shoulders slumped and red, tired eyes with a big crease above them. 

Like when you finally recognize that there is something in the corner of your eye and now it is no longer possible to ignore that space, after having looked at what you felt for him, you could not ignore the desire to be held by him, to kiss the newly discovered skin, to hug him tightly.

Stopping in the middle of the kitchen, you turned around, putting some distance between you two. You expected him to break the silence and reject you right away, maybe that would be the “easy” solution, after that you could move on and pretend nothing had happened, but when he held your gaze with such tenderness and sadness at the same time, you quickly looked away, unable to accept anything from him, that was going to hurt. He took a step closer with his arm half raised as if he wanted to comfort you, but he hesitated. The truth is that he knew why you were running away from him like a wounded deer. He had insisted enough with Deanna to get a half answer and then it was easy to put everything in place. 

There was this big elephant in the room of unsaid things, where to start? Rick wasn't proud that he had placed you in a limbo of uncertainty, the dynamic between you two was so domestic in contrast to the reality you lived in, like when he fell asleep in your arms while you brushed your hair with your fingers after a really, really bad day and he didn't feel worthy of you or how despite his distraught state, his eyes always softened when they met your face.

He wished he had told you how he had come to keep Lori's wedding ring - a bitter reminder of everything he had been through - in his pocket because your expression would turn sad whenever you played with it on his fingers. 

Oh, and Lori... 

He couldn't protect her, no matter how hard he tried, it wasn't enough in the end, and then came the nightmares in which he couldn't save you, he always became more distant after them. Irrationally loving you seemed to cast a dark shadow over you, putting you in danger, but moving on without you? It seemed to condemn him to wander with a big hole in his chest.

He spent so much time holding back, as if his mere touch would make you break.

Rick was a cowardly and stupid man, incapable of giving himself to you, fearing the day he would lose you.

A stupid and cowardly man... a coward... a coward, he was already losing you and worse, because you thought he didn't want you.

"I'm a coward" came out without realizing it, he had assumed that serious tone he used when he took control of a situation, the southern accent was stronger. He caught your attention, but your eyes continued to focus on a point behind him, always avoiding his eyes.

"What?"

Rick took another step closer.

"I'm a cowardly man who doesn't deserve you" confusion adorned your face in the dim light of the weak yellow light.

“Too cowardly to admit it…..damn it!” He ran his fingers through his hair, anxious.

Rick looked disconcerted, lost, it wasn’t normal to see him like this only when his shoulders were very tired and he inevitably ran to find some comfort in you.

Seconds of silence passed, as if he carefully considered his next words.

Then the moment passed and his shoulders straightened.

He slowly approached you while you backed away like a skittish animal, he stared so intently into your eyes that you felt completely exposed. The slow chase ended when your back hit the kitchen counter, cornered, the proximity, how intimate everything seemed, your mind spun in circles chanting his name. That was one of the problems, he took you out of your orbit.

both of his calloused hands went up your neck to cradle your face, so delicate, now the only distance between your bodies were the atoms of air. his touch almost burned your skin, even if you were reluctant you melted with the heat that emanated from his body.

it was no longer possible to escape from those blue eyes, noses brushing, mouths open and tense breathing “It’s a broken world and you’re the only thing that puts it back together” he continued to rest his forehead on yours “til my last breath, I am yours because I love you”

Shock took over your face, never in your most idyllic dreams would you imagine this scenario, so vulnerable because he loves you. Love is too strong a word to play with. Rick wasn’t the type to play with his word.

“you love me?” you asked in a whisper, afraid of the answer, then he started running his fingertips through your hair, over your face, saying a silent “beautiful” more to himself than to you “I think that’s what it’s called, isn’t it?” he looked at you curiously “I always come back to you, even if it’s crawling, but I come back. It’s your face that my eyes search for in a crowd, it’s your opinion that I seek before any decision, it’s your smile that makes all this mess worth it, it’s another reason to survive and when I see you with the children….. God, it’s like coming back to a home I didn’t know I had, it seems almost immoral to have this at the end of the world… I’m afraid the universe is waiting for me to take what I want just to take it from me, believe me, I couldn’t go on without you. So yes, I love you.”

You knew many things about Rick, how he likes his drink, about his grandfather in the war, about how to read his gestures, but mainly that he was a man with a good and kind heart and above all honest.

The light made your eyes bigger and brighter with the tears that were now flowing, which were becoming a sob and then a loud cry, but it was okay, he is Rick, he knows you, so smiling and sighing a “come here” he held you tight in his arms, wetting his shirt. Slowly he adorned the top of your head with kisses, reducing the crying, the tears gave way to a big smile. You pulled away so you could look into his eyes, which to your surprise were also teary, but he smiled broadly, both of you sharing a look.

 Silence fell in the room, but it was light and calm, of accomplices who had shared something very sacred. Rick took one of her hands and lifted it into the air as if preparing for a waltz. “In a perfect world, I would have told you this after a fancy dinner and taken you dancing.” You couldn’t help but smile, he was always an old-fashioned guy. 

“I like to dance.”

 “I know.” Using the hand that was in the air, he spun you around in his arms. 

“You always know.” It was like being a little girl again, cheeks burning and all. 

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, humming in agreement. 

“You should.”

In the blink of an eye, he had you in a very tender and deep kiss, as if he regretted all the kisses he had wanted to give you but couldn't. It didn't take long for him to become fiercer, hungrier, his hands were clenched in the back of his shirt, as if he was afraid the moment would evaporate like a dream.

Testing the waters, one of Rick's hands went down to your hip, gently, but giving it a light squeeze. You sighed, there was a hunger in you that was no longer possible to contain

"Take me to the room, please" you asked slyly

"Yes, ma'am" and as if you weighed nothing he picked you up and you wrapped yourself around his hips, sharing small kisses as you went up the stairs. Between kisses, you found yourselves unable to hold back your giggles, it was good.

Entering your room, he carefully laid you down on the bed and for a brief minute just kept looking at you as if he needed to convince himself that this was real, that something good and beautiful could be born in such a vile world. The moment was only broken when you extended your hand inviting him. Gratefully, he took off his white shirt, throwing it somewhere in the room and lay down between your legs.

 It was strange to be like this with him, but at the same time so familiar, as if it were right. You pulled him in for another hungry kiss with tongues, teeth and all, running your fingertips over the muscles of his back, pressing him against you. He moaned into your mouth, needing his hips against yours, eliciting a moan from you. 

He went down to your neck, distributing wet kisses to soothe the marks he was leaving - something intimate in him liked the idea of ​​claiming you publicly - going down to your collarbone and only stopping over the bust of your dress, searching your eyes in a silent request. He laughed at the intensity with which you nodded. 

He made sure to lower the straps very slowly, but it didn't take long for him to grab one of her breasts as soon as they were exposed. While he licked and sucked one, he played with the tip of the other with his fingers. When he was satisfied, he reversed the order.

By now you were a mess of moans and whimpers, rubbing against him in search of any friction. 

That day Rick discovered many things about you: first, you were loud - a pleasant surprise -; and second, you were sensitive as hell and he was going to take advantage of that.

He continued to move down your body, trailing chaste kisses along your clothed belly, nibbling on your dress, lingering on your lower abdomen while one of his hands lovingly brushed the skin on the inside of one of your thighs, almost reaching where you wanted, but pulling back just in time. He came back to my eye level "do you want to be good for me?" Oh, he wished he had a camera to capture your reaction, all blushing and goosebumps. Third thing - although he already suspected that.

No answer. Then the hand on your inner thigh went straight to your clothed center, taking you by surprise “baby, talk to me”

Your brain was already so far away and started to nod and only then remembered to answer “I want” clearly satisfied with the answer he got up from the bed, you almost protested against the loss of contact but when he pulled your legs to the edge of the bed and knelt between them, you already knew it was over

“this comes off” you lifted your hips so he could take off your panties “and this stays here for now” he bunched your dress at your waist.

You already knew you were very wet but when the cold air of the room hit you and Rick ate you with his eyes even more blush painted your skin.

 He brought his lips closer to your pussy, blowing only to see you squirm, smiling satisfied with the result. He looked at you with such hunger, you couldn't hold his gaze, but more knowing than you were his hand leaving a slap on your right thigh. When you turned your eyes to him it was clear on his face, pupils dilated in a stern look, jaw clenched, don't do that again. 

So you did... or tried to because when he gave a first slow and long lick between your folds by instinct your head fell back before you could come to, another slap, on your left thigh now. 

Damn bastard Rick Grimes

Leaning on your elbows, you looked at him again, trembling with desire as he sucked your clit with just the right amount of pressure. You were already high at this point because Rick would eat you out like a starving man. After a few more licks, two thick fingers poked your entrance, smearing themselves with your arousal and, to torture you, as a final blow, he inserted them while he curved them, hitting that exact spot - it was so different from yours, better, bigger and they were Rick's - and he went back to sucking on your spot. Thank God no one was home because you looked pathetic in his hands.

All you could think about was the pressure and the heat and the unfolding and growing in your belly, it was too much. Your back arched, your toes curled as you were a mess, reciting his name like a prayer

Rick…….Rick…….Rick

When his big hand reached for yours to hold while he pressed it against your hip to keep you in place while he intensified his actions until your peak reached you and you rode him fucking Rick's face

you came hard and loud, singing his name

he made sure to take every drop of you until overstimulation. When he got up from the floor, you could barely support yourself on your elbows to look at him. He licked his lips like after a good meal. Sucking his fingers and letting out a "sweet" he rested one of his knees on the bed and pulled you by the torso like a rag doll - very soft now - making you sit up "arms up" and he removed the dress over your head. He seemed so careful "good girl" he says and you couldn't help but tremble at those words, you wanted him inside you SO MUCH, so your hands flew to undo his belt and pants

"anxious?" oh that cheeky smile would kill you

“you have no idea”

“Ah….I can imagine, hon” he finished by giving a sweet kiss on the top of your head

When he stepped out of his pants and you were face to face with his red, veiny cock, already weeping with pre-cum. You wanted to feel the weight of it on your tongue - another time perhaps because you could swear you would start crying if you didn't feel him inside you soon.

You lay on your back in the center of the bed, spreading your legs wide for him. If you looked like the hot mess you felt, you would be lost.

He asked for your hand and you gave in. When he placed himself between your legs it was as if he belonged nowhere else than here, with you. He spent a minute hovering over your body, his eyes examining you, recording every detail, you were a very beautiful mess. He kissed you again, less hurriedly but equally hungry, his tongue playing knowingly with yours, biting your lips, pulling you towards him.

Anxiously, you tried to rub your hips against his - of course he noticed - he took your hand in his and placed it on his cock - you couldn't resist and applied some pressure, he shuddered.

With his hand on yours controlling the movement he brought the tip to your folds and played with them, making you squirm with anticipation, lubricating you well, threatening to enter. It was only after you called his name tearfully that he thought you had suffered enough, but Rick couldn't contain himself, he wanted to engrave this moment very well in his memory. You were all open on the bed for him, whimpering his name, you became very gentle in his hands, it was fascinating.

You had your heads together, staring at the spot that connected you when he finally entered you, both of you letting out a long sigh. He slowly went all the way in, until you felt his balls pressed against your ass - and god you could feel every bit of him, that stretch, filling you up just right - only for him to pull back almost all the way out and slam back into you harder. “look at me, baby” he called your attention.

Rick was an eye contact guy and you did your best to maintain it as your eyes rolled back in pleasure. He built a steady, deep, passionate rhythm, hitting that spot that made your brain short out every time, your back arched, you wrapped your legs around his waist, skin to skin, hot, sweaty, your hips racing to meet his. You smiled victoriously when he buried his nose in your neck and started moaning in your ear, your knot was tightening.

The temperature of the room had increased, a mixture of sounds of skin slapping, your meaningless pleas in the cloud of pleasure, Rick who will now return to mark your neck to suppress his own moans.

“Rick….please….please” you didn’t know what you were asking for but he is Rick, he knows you. his face came out of hiding in your hair, he gave you a quick kiss on the lips and pushed your knees against your chest, the new angle would be the death of you and by Rick’s state his too whose thrusts began to become erratic. You were very close to the edge, on the border between pleasure and consciousness and when Rick began to make circles on your clit you took his mouth in yours suppressing a loud moan as you came, your vision going white. Rick came soon after by the way you were squeezing him as you came down from your high. He may have drawn blood from your lips when he bit your lip as he released long, thick loads of semen inside you draining you of every last drop. He remained inside you even after he softened, the state of euphoria preventing you from thinking about the consequences.

You both collapsed together, it was a comforting feeling to feel his weight against you, you felt safe.

When his attention turned to study your face again, he looked calm, relaxed, happy - something very hard to see - he had such loving eyes and they looked at you, he took his time like that, serious, focused. You would never know, but in that intimate moment he made a promise, he would not allow anything or anyone to hurt you, he would not allow it. He knew you could handle it, you had already proven yourself many times, but you were still the woman he loved and nothing else mattered

it was you who took him out of the sea of ​​their thoughts

“hey, rick”

“hm”

“I love you too”

“yeah?”

“yeah”

He smiled broadly, inverting the position of the two and brought the back of his hand to sprinkle kisses there, that tender gesture made you smile. Rick was yours.

.....................................................

Today had been a long day of work in the city, the kind where you pretend you didn't notice you were taking a little longer to shower. It was the first place you went after getting home, the murder house - your house - that fact still made you smile at nothing. Before going into the bathroom to shower, you passed Carl and a small blond head heading out, in a hurry but not enough.

"Should I worry, Carl?" Dusk was slowly falling outside.

"No, no, Carol's new recipe."

"Where's your dad?"

"Daryl," the boy shouted over his shoulder. You answered with a low "Okay," too tired to think about it now. Right after the door slammed.

Okay, you may have taken too long because when you came out of the bathroom there was a dress on the bed, the one Rick liked to take off. Half curious, half suspicious, you put it on and went downstairs to get something to eat. Most of the lights downstairs were off except for the ones in the kitchen. You walked there, only to find a very well-dressed Rick - a button-down shirt with the tops open and black jeans - dinner on the table and a humble flower in his hand. “Rick” you called affectionately, tilting your head to the side with a smile on your face you were walking towards him but he stopped you in the middle of the way with a signal to stop, you don’t know exactly where he was hiding, but suddenly a melody started playing through the room, he came back shyly, took your hands in his, still holding the flower and you started dancing alone in the kitchen and you don’t remember feeling so loved because he's rick, he knows you

[ilovegyokeres]

do part 2 of Celebrity Crush with their dinner and then developing into a secret relationship, him posting her music/film, with her going to the stadium to watch him play and then the public becoming suspicious. it would be cool to have photos on IG of when they came out and maybe Kenan won a championship and she went to hug him on the field 😩 definitely a slow one with cute moments

The phone buzzed again. It was nearly midnight on your end, and you were sitting cross-legged on your couch, wrapped in a cozy blanket. The late-night calmness had settled over your apartment, but your mind was anything but calm.

You’d just finished a long day of work, but no matter how hard you tried, your thoughts kept drifting back to Kenan. His messages. The fact that you were actually talking to him. It had only been a few days since your Tonight Show interview aired, but in that time, your social media had exploded, and somehow, amidst all the chaos, he’d found his way into your DMs.

You had to admit: you were addicted to the conversations.

Kenan Yıldız: What time is it over there?

You smiled to yourself as you typed back.

You: Almost midnight. What about you?

Kenan Yıldız: Morning. Just got out of training.

The message was pretty standard, yet you couldn’t help but feel a little spark at the thought of him training hard on the other side of the world. You quickly typed:

You: Shouldn't you be, like… resting?

The reply came quickly, as if he had been waiting for it.

Kenan Yıldız: Shouldn't you be sleeping?

You laughed quietly to yourself. You had barely even realized how late it was.

You: Touché.

Another pause. You could feel your mind racing with a thousand thoughts, and you started typing again, trying to force your nerves into something else.

You: Can't sleep. Just one of those nights.

A few seconds passed, and you stared at the screen, the dots bouncing.

Kenan Yıldız: Same.

That was it. A simple message, but it held so much meaning. You wondered, for just a moment, if he was saying something more than just the words. The shared sentiment was clear. The more you thought about it, the more the weight of it sank in.

You wanted to say something, but before you could, his next message popped up.

Kenan Yıldız: Wanna call?

Your heart skipped.

A call? You hadn't expected that. Your thumb hovered over the screen for what felt like an eternity. Your breath hitched, and you suddenly realized how exposed you felt. It wasn’t just a regular conversation anymore. This was Kenan.

You tried to play it cool. You told yourself you didn’t need to jump into anything. But when you looked at your phone, the nervousness crept in. What if you said something dumb? What if you didn’t know what to say? The whole situation felt so… real now.

His next message made you hesitate even more:

Kenan Yıldız: Or we can just text. Whatever you want.

You swallowed hard. You had already come this far. You didn’t want to back out now. FaceTime—that was the next step, right? If you didn’t do it now, you might never get the chance again.

You: FaceTime.

Your fingers hit the send button before you could think better of it. And almost immediately, you regretted it. Was that too forward? Were you rushing things?

And then, your phone started to ring.

Your stomach flipped as you saw the name. Kenan Yıldız.

You took a deep breath, quickly smoothing out your hair and making sure you didn’t look like a total disaster before swiping to accept the call.

The screen flashed, and then there he was.

Kenan Yıldız. In your phone.

He was lying back against what looked like a bed, wearing a plain t-shirt, his hair a little messy from training. His eyes locked on yours, and for a moment, you both just stared at each other in silence.

You could feel the nerves creeping in, but you didn’t want to look away first.

“Hey,” he said, his voice surprisingly soft, almost like he’d been waiting for this moment too.

You swallowed, still trying to play it cool. “Hi.”

“Didn’t think you’d actually say yes,” he teased, the familiar smirk tugging at his lips.

You laughed awkwardly, running a hand through your hair. “Well, I figured… I couldn’t keep avoiding it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Avoiding it? I wasn’t going to bite.”

“No, not that,” you rushed to clarify. “I just… I didn’t know if I was ready for an actual call, you know?”

He nodded, his expression softening slightly. “I get it. But you’re here now.”

There was a beat of silence, and you couldn’t help but feel the weight of it. Being on a call with someone you’d only ever seen on TV or social media was surreal. It felt different, but also more real than anything you’d done with him before.

“So,” he started, shifting a little to sit up. “What’s the deal with all the edits? I swear I’ve seen enough memes of me and you together to last a lifetime.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly plan on that going viral.”

“I saw the interview, and I’ll admit—I was flattered. Didn’t know I had that kind of effect.” His tone was playful, but there was something in his eyes that made it clear he wasn’t just joking.

You smiled, trying to ignore the warmth that spread across your cheeks. “You should be flattered. You’re Kenan Yıldız.”

He chuckled, but there was a noticeable softness in his voice when he spoke next. “But you’re you. I mean, I’ve been following your work for a while.”

You blinked, trying to process what he’d just said. He’d been following your work?

“You’ve been… following me?”

He looked away briefly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. A fan of yours, actually.”

Your heart skipped.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” His smile widened, and he leaned forward slightly, as though he was trying to close the distance between you two, even though you were miles apart.

You tried not to get too caught up in the words, but you could feel the chemistry between you two now, even through a phone screen. It was subtle, but it was there.

“So,” he continued, “Tell me more about what you’re working on. What’s next for you?”

You shifted a little, feeling the nerves begin to melt away as you got into something familiar. “Well, I’m actually working on a new movie. It’s a bit of a drama, something I haven’t done before. So, there’s a lot of emotional range involved. It’s kind of scary, actually.”

“Sounds like something I’d watch.” His tone was light, but you could hear the genuine interest in his voice.

You couldn’t help but smile. “You’d watch a drama?”

“Depends. If you’re in it, I’d definitely watch.”

The compliment hung in the air, and your heart fluttered just a bit. It wasn’t just flattery. There was a realness to it that made you feel… seen.

“You’re making me blush,” you said, trying to keep things casual, but your cheeks betrayed you, and you could feel the heat creeping up.

Kenan noticed, of course. He grinned, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you. “Good.”

For a moment, you both just stayed there, looking at each other. The small talk had shifted to something more personal. Something that felt real.

It had been a few days since the FaceTime call with Kenan. You hadn’t stopped thinking about it. About him.

Every time you unlocked your phone, your fingers hovered over his name in your messages. You weren’t sure if you were overthinking things or if there was actually something there—something real—between you two.

Since that night, your conversations had been more frequent. It wasn’t just the occasional message here and there anymore. Now, he texted you throughout the day, sometimes just checking in, sometimes sending voice notes, sometimes teasing you about things you’d said on the call.

And the energy between you two had shifted.

The messages were still playful, but there was a new weight behind them.

Like earlier today:

Kenan Yıldız: What are you doing?

You: On set. You?

Kenan Yıldız: Bored. Waiting for training to start.

You: Wow, must be nice to just be bored in Italy.

Kenan Yıldız: Yeah, but you’re not here.

Your breath had caught at that last part. It had been so casual, so smooth, and yet it stuck with you the whole day.

And now, you were lying on your couch again, scrolling absentmindedly through your phone, waiting—though you didn’t want to admit it—for him to text.

Then, as if on cue, your phone buzzed.

Kenan Yıldız: Can I call you?

Your stomach flipped. You stared at the message for a second, fingers tightening around the phone. You wanted to answer immediately, but something about how casually he asked made your nerves spike.

Was this becoming… a thing?

You chewed on your lip before finally responding.

You: FaceTime or just a call?

His reply was immediate.

Kenan Yıldız: Your choice.

You hesitated for just a second before your fingers moved on their own.

You: FaceTime.

Not even a full second later, your phone started ringing. You took a deep breath before swiping to accept, and there he was—again.

Kenan was sitting on a couch, looking more relaxed than last time. His hair was slightly damp, probably from a shower, and he was wearing a simple hoodie. The second his face appeared on the screen, the corners of his lips tugged upward in a small smile.

“Hey,” he said.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “Hey.”

“You’re making this a habit,” he teased, shifting slightly.

You rolled your eyes. “I could say the same about you.”

He smirked. “I don’t mind.”

And just like that, the tension settled—familiar, warm, electric.

You tucked your legs beneath you and leaned back into the couch. “So, what’s up? Why the sudden call?”

Kenan shrugged. “I dunno. Just felt like talking to you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you tried to play it cool. “Bored again?”

“Nah,” he said, shaking his head. “Just… I guess I got used to talking to you.”

You swallowed, the weight of those words settling in your chest. You were so not prepared for this level of honesty.

“Oh,” was all you managed to say.

Kenan tilted his head slightly, studying your reaction. “What?”

You shook your head quickly, trying to brush it off. “Nothing, just—didn’t expect that answer.”

“What did you expect?”

You let out a breathy laugh. “I don’t know. Maybe something about football or how you just wanted to annoy me?”

He chuckled, rubbing his jaw. “I mean, that too.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no denying the warmth spreading through your chest.

There was a small pause before Kenan spoke again. “So, tell me something.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“I dunno. Something random. Something I don’t know about you yet.”

You hesitated for a second, then shrugged. “Okay. Um… I talk to myself when I’m trying to memorize lines.”

He smirked. “Like, full conversations?”

“Oh yeah,” you admitted. “I argue with myself sometimes too.”

Kenan laughed. “That’s kinda cute.”

You scoffed. “No, it’s not. It’s embarrassing.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s real. I like that.”

You blinked, caught off guard by how genuine he sounded.

Your voice was softer when you spoke next. “Okay. Your turn.”

He thought about it for a moment, then said, “I always listen to music before a match. The same song, every time.”

You leaned in slightly, intrigued. “What song?”

He hesitated. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

“Absolutely not.”

Kenan sighed dramatically, running a hand through his hair. “It’s… Superhero by Metro Boomin.”

You burst out laughing, and he groaned. “I knew it.”

“I’m sorry! It’s just—” You covered your mouth, trying to hold it in. “That’s so intense. Like, imagine your teammates just vibing and then there’s you, mentally preparing for war.”

Kenan smirked. “Exactly. Gotta lock in.”

You shook your head, still smiling. “That’s actually kinda cool.”

He looked at you for a second, then said, “You’re different when you’re comfortable.”

You blinked at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

He tilted his head slightly. “You were nervous the first time we talked.”

You swallowed. “And now?”

Kenan’s gaze didn’t waver. “Now, you’re just you.”

For a moment, you just… looked at each other. The air between you was thick with something unspoken, something neither of you had fully addressed yet.

You cleared your throat, trying to shake it off. “I—um, I should probably sleep soon.”

Kenan smiled, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes. “Yeah. Don’t want to keep you up too late.”

You bit your lip, hesitating before you spoke again. “But… this was nice.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

Kenan leaned back against the couch, exhaling. “Guess I’ll have to call you again, then.”

You smirked. “Guess so.”

The silence stretched out again, neither of you willing to hang up first.

Finally, Kenan chuckled. “Alright. Goodnight, Y/N.”

Your heart fluttered at the way he said your name.

“Goodnight, Kenan.”

And when you finally ended the call, you were smiling like an idiot.

This was something.

And you weren’t sure where it was leading, but… you weren’t running from it anymore.

You told yourself you weren’t going to overthink it.

And yet, here you were, staring at your phone, overthinking it.

It had been almost two weeks since those late-night FaceTimes with Kenan, and things between you two had only gotten… more.

More texts. More calls. More teasing, inside jokes, little moments that felt like something real.

And yet, nothing had been said outright.

You weren’t sure how to define whatever this was—if it even needed defining. Maybe it was just two people enjoying each other’s company. Maybe it was more. Maybe—

Your phone buzzed.

Kenan Yıldız: What time is it over there?

A familiar smile tugged at your lips as you typed back.

You: Late. Again.

Kenan Yıldız: And you’re still awake?

You: And so are you.

Kenan Yıldız: Yeah, but I have a reason.

You raised an eyebrow, curious.

You: Oh? And what’s your reason?

The dots bounced for a second before his reply came.

Kenan Yıldız: You.

Your stomach flipped.

You blinked at the message, rereading it like maybe your tired eyes were playing tricks on you. But no—it was there. Clear as day.

You exhaled sharply, gripping your phone tighter. What were you supposed to even say to that?

The answer came before you could think too hard about it.

Kenan Yıldız: Wanna call?

You hesitated, but only for a second before you typed back.

You: FaceTime.

The call came immediately. You inhaled sharply before answering, and just like that—there he was.

Kenan was lying on his bed this time, hood up, dim lighting casting a soft glow around him. He looked comfortable, like he had nowhere else to be, no one else he wanted to talk to but you.

"Hey," he said, voice low, relaxed.

"Hey," you echoed, settling back against your pillow.

"You looked scared for a second," he teased.

You rolled your eyes. "I was just preparing myself for whatever dumb thing you were about to say."

He smirked. "And yet, you still picked FaceTime."

You huffed, but there was no real annoyance behind it. Just familiarity.

He adjusted slightly, resting his chin on his hand. "So… I’ve been thinking."

Your heart kicked up a little. "About?"

Kenan hesitated, then exhaled like he was debating something. And suddenly, the lighthearted teasing faded into something heavier.

"About us meeting."

Your breath caught.

You swallowed. "Oh."

Kenan studied your reaction, his gaze never leaving yours. "Do you want to?"

Your head spun. Not because you didn’t want to—but because now, it was real.

You had spent all this time talking, dancing around whatever this was, building something between the two of you that had been kept safely behind screens and text bubbles. But now? Now, he was saying it out loud.

And you had to answer.

You inhaled deeply, trying to play it cool. "Where would we even meet?"

He smiled slightly, like he was relieved you hadn’t immediately shut it down. "You tell me."

"You’re the one in Italy," you pointed out. "Kinda hard for you to just hop on a plane."

His expression didn’t change. "Not impossible, though."

You blinked. "You’d fly here?"

Kenan shrugged. "Or you could come to me."

You hesitated. "Kenan—"

"It makes sense," he interrupted, like he already knew you were about to argue. "I have training, matches… I can’t really leave. But you, you travel all the time anyway, right? And the paparazzi aren’t as crazy here as in the U.S."

Your lips pressed together. He had a point.

"You really want that?" you asked, quieter this time.

Kenan’s voice softened. "Yeah."

The way he said it—it wasn’t some casual, playful suggestion. It was intentional.

He really wanted you there.

Your chest tightened.

You bit your lip, hesitating for only a second before finally admitting, "I do too."

Kenan’s smile widened, but there was something softer behind it. Something real.

"Then let’s make it happen," he said, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

You took a shaky breath. "What would we even do?"

His eyes flickered with something amused. "Are you asking me on a date?"

Your face heated. "I—I didn’t say that!"

Kenan smirked. "You kinda did."

You groaned. "Oh my god, you’re insufferable."

"But you like me anyway."

You opened your mouth to argue—but… you didn’t. And Kenan noticed. His smirk deepened.

After a long pause, he leaned closer to the camera, eyes steady on yours. "Come to a game."

Your breath hitched.

Kenan continued, "Not publicly. No cameras. Just you. No one has to know."

Your heartbeat roared in your ears. "You want me to come to a match?"

"Yeah," he said, like it was obvious. "I want you there."

Something about the way he said it—so effortlessly, like it was the most natural thing in the world—made you feel something.

Like maybe, just maybe… this was more than just late-night conversations and teasing texts.

You swallowed. "And after?"

Kenan arched an eyebrow. "What about after?"

You hesitated, then, pushing past your nerves, said, "We should get dinner."

Kenan stilled for a second—then a slow, knowing smile spread across his face.

"Now who's asking who out?" he teased.

You rolled your eyes. "Take it or leave it, Yıldız."

His voice was lower when he answered, "I'll take it."

Your stomach flipped.

Silence stretched between you, heavy with something unspoken.

Then Kenan exhaled, leaning back against his pillow. "Guess I should start playing even better, huh?"

You smirked. "Oh, absolutely. I’ll be judging."

Kenan chuckled. "Noted."

For a moment, neither of you spoke. It was one of those rare comfortable silences—one that felt natural, like neither of you were in a rush to end the call.

Kenan was the one who broke it. "You're actually coming."

It wasn’t a question. More like a realization.

You smiled. "Yeah."

And for the first time, this—whatever this was—felt real.

[snailsgoingdowntown]

Help, I Reincarnated as the Female Lead’s Sister-in-Law!

‘Slight’ Yandere! Dion Agriche x Fem! Reader

Chapter 16

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Arranged marriage AU

Interact with this linked post to be added to the tag list.

Entire chapter is Dion’s/Ash’s POV, takes place during the day of chapter 14 during the beginning scene of when Dion and Reader share a moment that is not nice in her mind. He is also out of character again lmao

Edit: LMAO I FUCKED UP THE TITLE OF MY OWN FIC. can you tell I wrote this entire thing in one setting while very tired? God now I need to check the other chapters lol

NOTE: Dion is having a very small crisis towards the end. Also, I do not know how to write fight scenes. I’m also getting kind of tired of saying ‘male’. Also two chapters within two days!? I'm on a roll baby! (I will proceed to not update for at least a week since life gets in the way/motivation/ideas won't come to me)

Warnings: slight yandere themes, themes of obsessive and possessive behavior/thoughts, toxic marriage/relationship, murder, blood, threats of injury/murder, slight torture (probably?), mention of divorce (it almost does not end well, rip Ash lol), Dion accidentally gets hurt (it’s his own fault), attempted murder, mention of past murder, implied murder (I think?), implied threats of injury, thoughts of imprisoning the reader at the end but he decides against it, implied stalking, HEAVY VIOLENCE Dion’s actions are toxic no matter how you look at it. Please tell me if I missed any.

NSFW-ISH WARNINGS:  (NO SEXUAL ACTIVITY ACTUALLY TAKES PLACE) suggestive, implied vaginal pain (I think), throw back to their first time, implied perverted thoughts (Dion), Lant once again being a pos, encouraging Dion to force himself on the Reader, implied/mentioned past sexual activities, implied past Dub-con. Please tell me if I missed any.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT CONDONE ANY OF THE HARMFUL AND/OR DANGEROUS ACTIONS AND/OR BEHAVIORS THAT MAY TAKE PLACE IN THIS PIECE OF FICTION. THESE ACTIONS/BEHAVIORS SHOULD NOT BE NORMALIZED NOR ROMANIZED AS THEY ARE EXTREMELY DANGEROUS AND TOXIC.

MINORS/BLANK BLOGS, BLOGS THAT DO NOT INTERACT WITH OR REBLOG FANDOM RELATED THINGS (FICS, ART, ETC.) DNI

“How's married life?” 

Boredom fills the voice of the redhead doctor as he dabs a cotton ball on the patient’s wound, crimson soaking into the fluffy white cotton. Once done treating it, he starts to wrap it up a little too tight, irritated that a certain Agriche got distracted, slipped down a slope full of sharp rocks and thus, sliced his arm open. So unlike him and yet, he still saw it coming from miles away.

God forbid if anyone in this hunting party listens.

“... why are you asking?” Dion questions back, narrowing his eyes, glaring daggers into the very doctor who’s treating his wounds. Still, it’s not like Ash would harm any of his patients, as he was well above that. Even with someone like him.

However, Dion Agriche often challenges his views and morals. He had always thought of the second eldest as a fool - however, ever since he got engaged to you, he became more so of one. While smart and talented in many areas - hunting, sword fighting, ballroom dancing, leading hunting parties for both monsters and animals alike, maybe a musical instrument or two if memory serves correct, and of course, assassinting - by the Gods, is his personality a nasty one.

“Am I not allowed to? After seeing the mess she was after your first night… I worry for her. Poor girl probably lost faith in God the moment she saw your face.” Ash bites back, tying the bandage up and securing it with pins before patting it down hard. He holds back a smile when THE Dion Agriche flinches at the pain.

It doesn’t matter if it was physical or emotional - pain is pain. Although, it would be better if it was both, finally hitting his employer where it hurts the most. But Dion always bites back.

“You’re rather mouthy for someone I could cut down easily.” Dion's threat is empty, but the urge to throttle the doctor remains. While he wouldn’t kill the man, putting him in a full body cast would settle some things.

Ash only sighs with a shake of his head. Gesturing your husband to put his shirt and black arm sleeves back on, the redhead starts to clean and put his medical supplies away. Currently, the two of them are alone in a tent that was hastily set up, the rest of the hunting party members outside eating dinner. The sun had barely set.

“Come now, I even tended to the poor girl as a free favor. Surely, answering a question or two isn’t that hard - consider it payment for that black eye I left with.”

“And I’ll leave another one on the other eye.”

“... why must you always be so violent? It’s clear that your wife isn’t fond of violence - much less you.” He hits where it hurts, patting the ‘poor’ man’s shoulder as he buttons up his uniform shirt. He watches with great interest when the black haired noble stiffens before resuming his task.

‘So, it’s not going all that great…’

“I mean, it’s only natural for me to ask, taking the fact you personally invited me to the wedding into account.” Ash continues to dig for answers, enjoying the way his scarlet hues become hollow and unfocused. Had he been a better man, the doctor would have pity the newly wed noble some more. 

But Dion Agriche is nowhere close to even a decent person.  

“It’s…,” his low and tired voice trails off before he stands and straightens his clothes out, “fine. Nothing for you to worry about.” A lie paired with another lie. How unlike him. 

“Hm. Sure.” 

Dion leaves the tent without another word, leaving the doctor behind.

As soon as he steps out, one of his men rushes over to him. Dion's mood only sours more, not wanting to interact with anyone just yet.

“Sir, we haven’t found any traces of the monsters. The entire area is empty.” The jet black haired noble can’t stop a brow from raising. 

The brunette delivers the news in a hurry, out of breath. Your husband notices the way he tries to keep his voice down, eyeing everyone behind him. Weird. 

Closer inspection revealed the dirt on his boots and leaves in his hair. But towards the chest, there’s a speck of red on the purple accents that’s barely hidden away by the cloak. 

It’s even slightly damp. His sleeves look a bit too short as well. The gloves don’t look right, not fitting the fingers, slightly sliding off with each gesture of his hands. Scarlet eyes zone in on them before returning to the soldier’s face.

The hair looks a bit lighter. The eyes are a bit deeper.

“How far did you go?” Dion asks as he comes back down to earth.

“Oh!” The soldier straightens up before going on to tell him the details. Your husband listens with little interest, already looking at the area from where the soldier just came from. And then, he glances around the camp, eyes landing on each person once. Once he’s done with relaying the information, Dion walks past him. 

The brunette follows. “Is something the matter, sir?” He follows until the chatter of the camp becomes distant. He runs into Dion’s sturdy back as the man comes to an abrupt stop. Gently rubbing his nose, the shorter man backs up.

“I must admit you have guts.” Dion’s voice is low, mockery laced in it despite ‘praising’ him. 

“...huh?” 

In a flash, his gloved hand slams the other man’s neck against a tree trunk. The bark bites into the exposed skin of his neck while his face turns red. Gasping for breath, the man makes a futile attempt to claw at Dion’s gloved hand.

His legs kick and kick, but it does little to help. Scarlet eyes stare at him emotionless, and the sight of the glowing orbs sends chills down his spine. “It’s amusing how you thought you could replace one of my men.” He chuckles low and deep, increasing the pressure on the poor man’s neck.

“But I have memorized each and every one of their traits - from their eye color to the way they even walk. Not to mention I didn’t order them to look for any monsters in the near vicinity.”   

The black haired man considers snapping his neck right at this moment. But his actions are halted when he hears a twig snap under someone’s foot.

He scowls once the familiar voice reaches his ears. His eyes narrow at how annoying the new addition sounds.

“Is this really necessary? How about we find out what happened to the victim before killing the perpetrator,” Ash advises as he gets closer. He stops once he’s two feet away from the now angered man.

Close to being enraged but not yet, irked that one fool thought he was stupid while the other had just interrupted his actions.

“Dion.” Ash tries again. “Ask questions first. You can do whatever with him later, after we get answers.” 

A hiss of annoyance and Dion drops the man. While he’s coughing for breath, with his boot Dion delivers a hard kick to the imposter’s stomach that has him wheezing for breath. Ash sighs in exasperation at the scene unfolding before him. 

‘Once a brute, always a brute.’

“Talk. Maybe I’ll be merciful depending on your answers.” 

“Arg! W-wait, fuck, wait!” He raises his hands as he surrounders. “I’m not the one who killed him - I was just given the uniform. Honest!”

The two standing men share a look.

“Regardless of who killed him, didn’t you at least consider that maybe everyone would notice you weren’t originally part of the party?” Ash squats to the enemy’s height, observing the hand mark that now decorates his neck. “Unless you’re an idiot.” 

“I wa-wasn’t supposed to get too close to the others… just to lure you away.” He stares up at your husband the entire time while clutching at his stomach. Saliva drips from his mouth as he shakes. He looks more pathetic than a terrified dog.

“How far? I’m assuming just a bit further away from here.” The Agriche continues the integration. His head tilts when the idiotic imposter nods. 

Ash looks up at him. “Should we call for reinforcements? It’s probably not a good idea for you to go alone.”

“I’m not alone. I have you.”

“...huh?”

- - -

Against his own will, Ash follows close behind the prisoner and warden. His arms are wrapped around himself as a cold breeze starts to pick up. His long red hair sways in the wind as Dion’s hood flops back due to the direction of the sudden wind.

“I’m not a fighter, you know this.”

“Right.”

“I’m a doctor - I help the wounded, I don’t give injuries. I don’t even have the training of a swordsman - unlike you.” Ash continues to complain, wanting nothing more than to kick your husband straight in the ass. 

“Right.” Dion’s one word replies are dismissive - the doctor doubts he’s listening at all. 

All the while the brunette is being dragged by the collar. He only listens in silence as the two assumed co-workers or something of that sort have a one sided argument or conversation. He can’t tell what it was. 

“You have like what, thirty men?”

“Thirty five.” He takes a pause before correcting himself. “Well, now it’s thirty four.”

“Thirty four? And you choose me, a weak and mild doctor -”

“More like an annoying one,” Dion cuts in, starting to regret bringing Ash along. He forgot how… yappy he can be. Even with the amount of money he pays him, he always has something to complain about. 

“... If your wife ever divorces you, I’ll help her in every way I -”

SNAP

Twigs break in half under your husband’s feet, the prisoner choking as the taller man turns on his feet so quickly it gives him whiplash. Ash immediately shuts his mouth as shadows start to cover the sharp features of Dion’s face. His eyes glow in the moonlight. His scarlet eyes are narrowed, filled with unsaid threats, glare so sharp it cuts into his very soul. 

The redhead takes a step back as his employer towers over him. He breaks out into a cold sweat, the forest having become silent - like every animal in the vicinity sensed the bloodlust of this obsessed man and went into hiding. 

It feels like death itself is breathing down his back, his stomach twisting and turning painfully. His mouth becomes dry, and he can hear every breath Dion takes. So, this is what it feels like, to be on the sharp side of Dion’s blade.

He gulps, Adam's apple bobbing. The air becomes suffocating. 

“... it was a joke.” Ash says slowly, unable to look away from the grim reaper. A quick glance to his hands shows that they are both tightly clenched. The enemy is shivering in fear as well, worried for his own safety.

One wrong move and he’ll lose his head, it doesn’t matter if he wasn’t involved with the conversation. The fact he’s here at all spells out his doom.

This rage was different from the one that was directed towards him. He doesn’t know who the wife - you are, but at the mention of divorce, Dion became a different man. A worse man.

Did you mean that much to him? Or was it a pride thing?

“...A joke? I didn’t realize my marriage was a joke to you.” Husky and deep, your husband’s voice sends chills down the other two spines. Each step carries weight and the poor man dragged along regrets ever taking the job. 

“No, I don’t think your marriage is a joke… I’m sure she’ll open up to you. Eventually. Just a bit.” Trying to soothe the pissed man proves to be futile.

Ash doesn’t understand why Dion was so smitten with you. You were strangers prior to the engagement - only shared a space in the ballroom without interacting with each other. However, one memory that will never be erased from his mind was when the then nineteen-year-old had pointed at you with his red eyes and declared to the doctor he would marry you during a ball that took place a year ago.

Right after you and the Agriche accidentally locked eyes.

Ash always knew he was mental. Just not to this degree. 

“Listen, I’m sorry; I overstepped. Let’s just get this done - the faster we finish the faster you can return home. Maybe not into her arms, but at least you’ll see and hear her voice. Right?”

At the mention of that, the murderous man calms a little, but the looming threat of being cut down is still in the air. In the moonlight, your husband looks imposing, his red eyes glow as his short black hair moves along with the wind - all he’s missing is the scythe, standing tall and oh so close to putting his hand on the hilt of his sword.

Ash slowly lowers his hands when Dion sneers at him one last time and turns his back. Tension still in the air and in everyone’s body, they continue the walk. Each step is on the verge of being heavy, but caution prevents them from dragging their feet. The captive was soon thrown over Dion’s shoulder, the sound of dragging getting on his nerves while Ash brought up the amount of noise it made. 

The captive and Ash stare at each other in silence. He almost feels bad for the man, but the doctor quickly reminds himself that he was his employer’s enemy - if he pities him he might cave in and help. But helping would mean that Dion would cut his pay, assuming he doesn’t put him six feet under. 

Or both.

“... we’ve been walking for a bit now. Maybe you should turn around to let the man get a view. We might have taken a wrong turn.” The doctor suggests as Dion hums, considering it. He halts and drops the man who lands face first on the ground. Dirt gets in his eyes, groaning in pain as he rubs it out. 

“If you try to run I’ll cut your legs off.”

“And this is why you don’t have any friends.”

The captive listens in confusion, baffled that there’s someone who can shit talk the infamous Dion Agriche and live. A pause and he stands to his full height, a head shorter than your husband. Dusting himself off, he quivers under Dion’s sharp gaze. His voice cracks as he looks around before giving them directions. 

Or at least, attempts to. 

Swoosh 

Thud!

“Wha!?” Ash backs away as an arrow impales the imposter’s head. He falls to the ground immediately, eyes becoming lifeless. Blood pools underneath his head as some drips down his face. Dion whips his head to the right, where the arrow came from. 

Swoosh

Before it can hit him, Dion catches the arrow with his hand after rushing in to save Ash. He snaps it in two easily. The forest becomes quiet. Both men look to the right, but sense nothing. 

The Agriche feels a hit to his pride once he realizes that he had just lost his prey. His scowl deepens, and Ash squats to investigate the dead body that lays on the cold ground. 

Gently, he lifts the head, getting a good look at the fatal wound. Upon closer inspection, the head of the arrow was dipped in a purple liquid - most likely poison. He glances at the man standing behind him, but quickly returns his attention to the corpse. 

‘Not that it matters if he got hit… he’s immune to most if not all poisons. Oh, but what if he’s not immune to this one?’

The doctor mentally questions as he looks over his shoulder again. Only to be met with the sight of Dion licking the arrow head, tasting the possible poisonous liquid without a second thought. Ash blinks blankly.

‘Are all Agriches like this?’

“It’s poison -” the black haired man starts before he gets interrupted, holding the urge to throttle his employee back. It’s so tempting.

“Obviously -”

“- that’s made from Mellow light*” He finishes while he glowers at Ash. “How unfortunate. Had I known it was drenched in it I would have let it hit you.” A crooked smile plays on his lips as the redhead furrows his brows at the younger man's ‘teasing’. 

“Ha ha. That’s enough from you - what do you want to do with the body?” He looks at the corpse next to him. “Should we burn it? Or bury it?” 

“We’ll bring it with us.” Answer your husband. Without another word, he grabs the corpse by the collar of the shirt and drags it alongside him. “It’d be interesting to see their reactions.” 

Ash stays quiet. 

- - -

“Where’s the doctor and the young master?” 

“I saw them heading that way…”

“Were we abandoned?” 

“Do you honestly think they would do that? Master Lant would have a field day if the young master just up and left. Even if he’s the favorite, he wouldn’t be able to get away with doing such a thing.” 

Chatter fills the air as the soldiers scratch their heads. Stars twinkle in the night sky, and yet despite the pretty sight, only tension is present. Everyone is tense as some look around them to make sure nothing or no-one surrounds them.

“Actually,” one young man starts after he looks around, “where’s Adam? I haven’t seen him since we got back.” 

“Maybe the young master disposed of him.” One says casually.  

“Or he was eaten by a monster and that’s why the other two left - to investigate. It’s normal for them not to say anything sometimes.” Another man offers up, scratching his head despite the implication that their fellow soldier is dead somewhere.

It’s a normal occurrence they’re used to seeing rather than experiencing - it was only a matter of time until someone from their group would die in action or get disposed of by one of the Masters.

Despite their unease, they stay at the camp, weapons ready and alert about their surroundings. The night was still young and the person in charge was missing. 

- - -

They stopped at an abandoned cabin. However, like the fools they are, chatter is loud enough to be heard from outside, and a lantern was lit inside, showing the silhouettes of people through the windows. Two people stood guard outside, Dion and Ash hiding near the trees. 

“Talk about being obvious,” Ash mumbles under his breath, staring at the sight with furrowed brows. Wasn’t this a little too easy? Out in the open, did they think that the night alone would conceal their presence?

Or maybe this was a trap. Making it look too easy so attackers would act cocky or something along those lines. Acting without thinking. Makes it easy to -

“This is dull.” Dion walks out into the open, clearly having no intention of staying hidden. Unlike the swordsman, the doctor says in hiding. He sighs, shaking his head as he quietly prays for the poor souls. Three strikes of his sword and both are on the ground, dead. One with a slash to his neck and the other was pierced with Dion’s sword to his head. Their bodies fall to the ground with a ‘thud’. 

Then, he kicks the door in without warning, caution thrown into the wind, the corrupted noble acting out of character. Slowly, the doctor follows after, watching from the doorway as your husband swings his sword to slash someone’s eyes, making them blind. The Agriche jumps back when one of the men thrusts their sword with all his might towards your husband’s chest.

He deflects it easily. 

From the doorway, Ash witnesses as the younger male swipes his opponent from his feet, his booth making contact with their own, causing the enemy to trip over. Dion wastes no time in bringing his sword down, blood splattering on his boots and floor, the hem of his cloak also now stained as he kills him. There is no remorse in his red eyes. 

The doctor shivers. 

Two capable men remain. They look at the brooding figure like he was a beast - and perhaps he was, the man emotionless when it comes to his victims. Shaking in their boots, their hold on their sword’s hilts loosen. Their eyes are so wide it’s cometical.

“Remember to leave one alive,” Ash shouts from the doorway. Dion doesn’t spare him a glance as he rushes forward, and another man is killed. Blood is shed and none of it is from him. 

The man who was blind by the Agriche writhes on the floor, palms pressed against the wound as he tries to soothe it. He’s also sobbing, and for a moment, the sound reminds your husband of you.

He’s quickly ripped out of his thoughts as his opponent dashes towards him, lifting his sword and is about to bring it down before Dion just… stabs him in the chest. The sword falls to the floor with a clatter as the man cripples over in pain. Slowly, life fades from his eyes, your husband taking it upon himself to end his life faster.

The sight is reflected in scarlet eyes and their owner feels nothing. He’s all but a canvas painted a bright red, no more room for anything else to be added, black fading at the corners.

The wails of the now blind man reach his ears. He turns on his feet, realizing he should have let one of the enemies who could still see live. A blind man can only help so much with directions. 

Dion takes a quick glance around the one room cabinet only to realize one thing - there are no arrows. Whoever the archer was, they were not here. His eye twitches but he calms himself as he looks at the injured man on the floor, blood dripping from his eyes onto the wooden floor.

His steps are heavy, the floorboards creaking under his weight. Ash reaches the new victim before Dion does. He only stares, standing above him as the doctor checks out the gash. 

“F-fuck! You - you -” The nameless man stutters out before he stops to sob, the pain unbearable. Ash doesn’t blame him.

“He’ll kill you if you keep talking without permission.” A half-lie, the doctor giving your husband a look. “Just keep your mouth shut until spoken to.” Reaching into his coat's inner pocket, he brings out a small bottle full of some type of medicine. 

Dion scoffs as the doctor rinses out the wound, dusting himself off as the wails get stronger. Louder. What was the point of performing first aid? It’s not like he’ll live for long.

Without heistance, Dion kicks the man in the stomach once Ash is done ‘treating’ him. He’s getting impatient - their idiotic and poor attempt to kill him, to trick him was only making the length of his mission longer. He could be with you right now. Watching as your chest slowly rises up and down as you sleep, as his insomnia prevents him from joining you.

He could be in your shared bed by now, the only time you don’t squirm under his gaze. When he can trace the contours of your face with his eyes, wishing that he could do it with his fingers instead. 

He directs his attention back to the matter at hand. Thinking about you only distracts him.

“Talk. The longer you lie or stay quiet, the longer I’ll beat you.” Not a complete lie. He swears he’s trying to be a bit less brutal. For you.

But it’s hard when it was hardwired into his very being at a young age.

“I-I don’t -”

THWACK

Another kick to the stomach that has the man wheezing. Drool flies from his mouth as he doubles over in pain. His entire body feels wrecked, his eyes fucked for the rest of his life, no matter how short. Breathing hurts but his lungs won’t stop seeking for oxygen. The burning sensation almost makes him wish he was dead. 

“Ugh… I-I was ju-just ordered to be stationed here…” He braces himself for another kick that never comes. However, he doesn’t delude himself into thinking that the threat before him has decided to let him rest. He knows that Dion is planning something else. 

And he’s scared to find out what.

“So you’re mercenaries. Who hired you?” The interrogation continues. 

“I-I didn’t see his fa-face… he wore a ma-mask. Dark blue. A-a bit shorter th-than you." The mercenary gives details as he prays that his death will be a swift one. He knows he’s not leaving alive. 

- - -

The matter was out of their hands now. He has to report everything to Lant, and wait for further instructions. It’s a routine he hates.

He’s treated no better than a show dog.

“At least you’re almost done with the original task.” The doctor tries to be positive.

Dion doesn’t answer as he brings the blind mercenary with him. Unlike with the first one, he carries this one over his shoulder the entire trip back to camp. It’s quicker and easier, while dragging him would slow him down a bit. 

It doesn’t make him dislike it any less. 

“Surprised you kept him alive.” The doctor stares at the unconscious man as he walks behind Dion. “What about the rest of the bodies?”

“We leave them as a message,” is all your husband says. What a crude thing to do, Ash thinks. But he doesn’t comment on it further. 

By the time they reach camp, the soldiers look on in shock as their leader returns covered in splatters of blood with a man on death’s door slung over his shoulder. 

- - -

  “...you want me to do what?”

“Take the money and buy the necklace I told you about earlier. I’ll either be kicked out or they’ll run away immediately as soon as they see me.” He gestures to his messy appearance.

“Just take off your cloak! Wash your face! Besides, what will your wife think if she ever finds out I was the one who got it!? She’ll think that you’re lazy and it’ll only make her view of you worse!” 

The hunting party is on the outskirts of a town they passed by on their way to the hunting grounds. Dion stares at Ash with money in his hand, silently ordering him to take it and buy a necklace that matches your pretty and lovely eyes. 

Dion had passed through the town himself a few weeks ago while out on a different mission. Curious, he decided to check out the local jewelry store. He was only supposed to take a peek, not leave with plans to buy a certain piece. The only reason he didn’t get it right then and there was because he forgot his wallet. 

He still holds that against himself to this day. While it’s true he could have used his status as being part of the Black Clan, it didn’t sit right with him. How soft has he become?

It’s all your fault. And yet, he doesn’t hold it against you. It’s impossible to do so.

“... I suppose you’re right.” 

“Then go get it yourself!” 

The blind and unconscious mercenary is forgotten on the carriage that also holds some monster parts.  

The soldiers in the background try their best to ignore their conversation. But it’s hard when the doctor’s frustration is bursting through the streams, clearly done with their leader. While it was common knowledge among this group of how the two butt heads, it’s a secret outside of it.

For a mere common doctor to go against a child of Agriche, it would be a death sentence. Especially with his occasional condescending remark or tone that would bring punishment or even death for anyone else. However, for whatever reason, Ash Katopodis was the only one who ever lived without injury after shit talking Dion Agriche. The first time it happened, they waited with baited breath for the doctor to fall to the ground, dead. 

The second time it happened they thought it was fluke. 

Everything after that showed that he had a privilege that no-one else ever will have. It’s curious how he’s the only one. 

One time, a soldier, a stupid one, who overheard Dion’s men talk about it did try to snitch on them to Lant, hoping to bring down Dion’s reputation. Safe to say his death wasn’t quick and painless. After that, they all realized that the only reason Dion kept them around was because they knew when and how to keep their mouths shut.

Still, it was entertaining for a man below Dion in status to lose his temper with the crimson eyed noble. 

Even if they can’t hear every word. 

“Take off the cloak - oh. Right. The Agriche crest.” The sudden memory of what’s engraved into that uniform hits Ash hard. How stupid of him to barely remember.

“You there! Come over for a second.” Not waiting for Dion’s response, Ash calls over one of the soldiers. He walks over in confusion, slightly irked that a doctor dared to order him around. But due to his leader being there, he keeps his mouth shut.

“Y-yes?” The man looks at both of them with uncertainty in his eyes. Worried, he keeps himself from turning around to avoid your husband’s eyes. 

“Can you lend him your cloak? Just for a bit.” 

Dion glares daggers at Ash.

- - -

“We-welcome! How may I help you to-today?” Open twenty-four-seven, Ash watches as Dion had knocked on the door of the store, deciding to stay in his stained clothes and dirty boots while staying outside, not staining the store’s floor. How benevolent of him.

The owner, who was originally confused and slightly annoyed, quickly changed tune once he saw the two men. Since he had met Dion before, he knew who he was. Which meant his automatic fear and willingness to work with him and not send him off only made sense.

“The necklace,” Dion starts while recalling how it looks, “the simple gold one with a small (e/c) jewel in the middle - how much?” He knows it’s genuine after the first time he examined it. What he forgot was the price.

This isn’t like him. None of this is. But the second you entered his life, he’s been… different. 

The owner blinks before answering. “Oh, that one? It’s 1240 - but for you, I’ll only charge half.” Business is still business to this man, clearly. Still, seeing how it’s an Agriche who’s his customer, he doesn’t want to test his luck too much.

It’s also amazing how he memorized the price of each and every one of his goods. 

“Alright.” Dion doesn’t try to negotiate to lower the price further. Ash watches in amazement as the exchange comes to an end as the gift is placed in a small elegant blue box that’s carefully placed into his pants pocket. 

- - -

Ash left the party before reaching the Agriche estate.

Everyone else goes their own ways once everything is reported to Lant, the head of the family scowling at the news. Perhaps too tired to care much, considering the time, he dismisses everyone without incident. Everyone but Dion, that is.

“The girl didn’t leave your room today. Were you too rough before departing?” His father takes a puff from his cigar as he questions his son on a matter that frankly, doesn’t concern him. His ugly smirk only makes the context worse.

“... she’s still getting used to ‘it’.” A simple lie that has his father chuckling. It’s nails on a chalkboard, making his ears bleed. 

“Interesting. I never thought you would be that type.” One more puff after a suggestive line. “Well, it’s late - you should get some rest. Or don’t, depending on your mood. It’s not like she can deny you.” 

His hands form fists before they relax. Getting mad here wouldn’t help. Even though every fiber of his being is enraged that Lant is treating you like a sex toy - then again, in his eyes, you probably are. A nice little breeding tool given to him, his son.

He ignores the urge to give in and punch him. 

He wonders how long he’s had these violent feelings towards him.

“Yes, father.” And with that, he leaves. 

The walk to your bedroom feels longer than what it is. Too long. Even so, he doesn’t rush, knowing that you prefer it when he’s gone. A part of him does feel guilty about it, really. At times, he does consider separating himself from you physically - as long as you’re married, as long as you don’t look at anyone else, as long as you belong to him, it should have been fine.

And, truthfully, it was, at first. He was content with the knowledge that you were his wife and he was your husband. Looking from afar would sate his needs, small dinners here and there would have been better than fine. Just hearing your voice would improve his mood, and sharing a bed with you was nicer than nice. 

That day when you were sitting on the floor and fell backwards, head resting on his legs, he couldn’t help but admire your beauty. 

Although, looking back on it now, you probably took it differently.

The night where you allowed him to touch you, his fingers on the bare skin of your back, how loose you were with him, his resolve started to crumble. He shouldn’t have done that. He shouldn’t have acted in a suggestive way, either the position sending his mind places that you clearly didn’t appreciate nor agreed with. He should have gotten up the moment he was done with untying the strings and not imply he wanted to make you cum with both his words and actions.

His behavior that night only served to drive you away further. 

You both had your first time together, which was amazing - but he does regret how it went. He should have been softer, kissed you, whispered praises in your ear as he slowly, inch by inch, entered you, said you were beautiful because you were, because you are. 

But, shamefully, he was caught up in his head. Too eager to take you, to become one, his actions only worsen your impression of him. He should have been better. Instead of trying to hold himself back which only made him look disinterested, made him look selfish with sexual pleasure, he should have given in a little bit, at least with making you cum and sweet words he should have said instead of calling you cute only when you started to cry.

Maybe then, you would be more welcoming to fleeting touches and even accept a kiss to the forehead or at the very least, hold his hand. But now you only see him as a perverted creep, and no matter how hard he tries, everything only backfires on him.

He has no-one to blame but himself. 

He pauses once he reaches the bedroom doors. It’s only now does he realize he didn’t wash up - still dirty and covered in specks of blood. Dirt in his hair, he wonders if he stinks or just smells like the outside. Or maybe that would smell bad to you too.

His eyes glaze overs at the thought of you shooing him away - can’t he just spend a few minutes with you? Maybe he should just… lock you up. That way, you wouldn’t be able to avoid him. You wouldn’t be able to give your attention to anyone else, if he just hid and locked you away all for himself.

A pause before he sighs through his nose. Not a good idea despite how tempting it is.

He’ll just take a peek. To see if you’re asleep or not. He’ll leave to wash up as soon as he sees you before going in.

Only he caves in once he sees you on the terrace, in nothing but your sleep attire. A frown pulls at his lips - it’s slightly windy - he knows this is only an excuse to get closer to you, but an obsessed man can only hold back for so long. In the beginning, he was satisfied with just being married to you. But your personality, your real one that shined through in the past, was addicting. Your skin was so warm and hair soft, and the way you  had clung to him during your first night would have eventually caught up with him, wanting to hold you in his arms again.

It didn’t have to be in a sexual manner. Your genuine sweetness was never meant for him and he knows this. But, at times, it does hurt a bit that you just don’t remember past events, no matter how small.

His thoughts are interrupted when his hand starts to turn the door knob without his knowing. He caves.

Quietly, by reflex, he enters the room and opens the closet to pull out a coat. The first one he sees is a gift from his mother.

Despite his distaste of it, he pulls it out regardless and walks to you. You smell nice, he thinks as he gets close enough to place the coat over your shoulders. He sees the way you tense but he still can’t stop himself from saying -

“You’re still awake.”

= = =

EDIT: *- it's a plant I made up. That's all.

tag list: @tiny-mimi @umi-adxhira @pix-stuff @queenofspades403

@manitscold @s-ajia @disappointment-san @rentaldarling @darkumbreon92 @puggyeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

[4lexnilsen]

“because it’s not always easy to admit these things,  helena.   if truth be told,  i don’t know why i’m opening up like this right now.”   he never does it.   maybe there really is something in this drink of his?   or maybe he’s just exhausted.   that’s more likely.   after all,  it’s been the longest day of his life.   “what?   i could never hate you,”   he says quietly,  lowering his gaze,  fingers coming to a brief stop.   the braid’s only halfway done.   his heart feels so tender and raw and heavy,  tongue suddenly tied again.   “i really like you.”   that’s the problem.   “i just think you deserve better friends than someone like me.   i tend to sabotage meaningful relationships in my life.”   the feelings she stirs up inside him,  they terrify him and so he does his best to push them away.   “i didn’t think you’d follow me inside.   i didn’t think you’d actually take me there.   and i don’t understand why i wanted to go there in the first place.   guess it’s over now anyway,  me and sarah.”   they’d been headed for disaster basically ever since they got together.   left hand keeping the braid from falling apart,  right one reaching around her petite frame for his own glass,  downing what’s left in one gulp.   it’s just the right amount of sweet.   what a delicious beverage.   good thing they ordered more than one round.   “yeah?   my cold fingers don’t offend you?”   he teases,  lifting an eyebrow and setting the empty glass back down on the bar so that he can focus on finishing the braid.   it’s coming together so nicely.   “thanks for letting me do this.”   a few more twists and it’s done,  his fingers brushing against hers once more as he takes the bow and secures the braid with it.

“then if you get that, i don’t see why we just spent the last two hours arguing and spouting off all these cruelties.” confusion lacing her voice, threading with tonight’s previous hurt. “you sounded like you did.” enjoy making fun of her. “you sounded like you really hate me even, for me being the way i am.” the switch up hurts her brain in trying to comprehend why suddenly so apologetic? “i didn’t though, i just walked in shouting how you had something to say. just repeating what you said earlier. i didn’t automatically go for the kill, you did.” helena reminds, idly sipping her drink with how dry her mouth is, thirsting to death after going so long without something to drink. “well, it’s not all that inviting of a feeling . . . but i wasn’t offended neither.” to his cold fingers, since he obviously didn’t know his drink turned his hand cold. “oh,” a small nod of recognition, “that’s sweet.” it’s just terrible she’s no longer here, so she doesn’t want to say much more. “i’m appreciative.” that he was sweet at one time. “that you can still apply these skills.” enjoying the sensation of her hair being tucked behind her ears, that it feels like a massage the entire time, pushing her empty glass away and taking the new one. “you’re fine.” grabbing her bow, she hands it backwards to him.

[deesseshesca]

PAC: What vibes does your future relationship give off ? (18+)

Yankee Doddle went to town riding on pony.

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PILE 1

SONG : TAKE YOU DOWN - SZA

SORRY BABE BUT YOUR READING IS LONGER 😭

PILE 2 

SONG : BABY - REMA

6 swords (reverse), judgement (reverse) 8 wands, King pentacles (reverse) 

This is the friend of your older brother. He’s writing a paragraph as a text while he's drunk… which he will never send. He may engage in dangerous behavior because he's behind the wheel texting it but he's not driving … just sitting there. Like he took a moment away from the party to catch some fresh air.  

There's so much sexual frustration and tension in his body is incredible. 

There's a clicking of keys… which is important. Is like his pondering if he should leave or spend the night over like it was planned. I don't think he will actually drive … should he leave, he would tag along with other boys to an actual party. Is like your brother has a lot on his mind regarding another girl from uni … you will not know. You will just be shocked he came back from campus earlier. Even your mom, like her heart might stop. Lol she is so sure for a moment that your brother got kicked out, your brother may have problems accepting answering to more important people ever since he’s a child. Like he’s not annoying or rude, he may come like that but he actually has good reasons to act up. He may be a crash out, but it's always been justified. Lol the bffs are going through it with women … they both seem to deal with it the same way … running away. They may actually act like fucking twin brothers at times. 

What the actually fuck ? I though I actually dealt with my fucking heart. I aint even lie, this past years I try to take my fucking distance with you. I mean I am trying to stay alive and keep my balls. Do you know what would happen to me if your brother could read my brain ? Especially with the past I have, fuck what past … I am too emotionally available with females … he’s not wrong keeping me away from you . I mean … I may not be worth you but can your homeboy dream ? I did not know you have to ask permission to think ? Why do I have to ask permission to use my own brain while you take possession of my thoughts 24/7 like you are paying the bills in this bitch. Your brother told me, we were going to surprise you today. I know he’s was running away, I am always going to have bro back but fuck why do I have to fucked in the process ? You were in your bed, your long hair braided, legs hanging, wearing your short booty shorts, white tee dancing to some pop girl music (his snorting). Dancing like a maniac (explosion of laughter). The scream that came out of you is deserving of an Oscar but the way I had to keep my composure  when you jumped in my arms after hugging your bro was something. Fuck I miss having my hands around you, I miss caring for you, I miss your face, your scent and even your weird habits. Than you came downstair cooking something for me and the bros because your mom was caught up in a meeting and we can’t fucking cook to safe ourselves. Again I had to keep my composure, while your body was moving lazily to the music in your headphones. Keep my eyes on the game, keep my focus on the conversation, keep my attention on the character on the screen. When all I wanted to do was peeking at you. Than like you wanted to torture me … you put the plates a front of us with smile before running back upstairs to your bedroom. All I could think about for the rest of the evening, while drinking was do I claim a need to the bathroom so I can stare at you through the door … FUCK when did I become a such creep ? 

That man grew up in a house where spanking, physical abuse was the way to discipline. 

You often grow up, watching him with purple eyes, you thought maybe he had a temper he was hiding you because he's always calm whenever he deals with you, your family, fuck almost everybody, yet…

For some y’all actually know him since childhood and he always had bruises on him, so you never question it. When  you were younger you even though he had a purple birth scar. This shows the frequency and the normality of the assault he endured for your kid brain to normalize it. 

For some of you, that are fucking shock about that text … to confirm is him … go ask him about his family, childhood or parents, that will be your confirmation that's the pile for you. 

For the one too shocked to believe it, remember that energy is ever changing but if you keep up living the way you do, you will in fact finish your life with  the bff of your older brother. To unclaimed, change something … To claim … no need is already yours (I just saw someone giggling … LOL) 

This collective y’all are really shocked he will actually be interested in you because he treats you like a little sis… from my humble tarot reader opinion … he is too protective and soft for it not to be romance. The intensity in which he holds your gaze is too much to just be platonic 

I just heard : ‘’But nah girl…’’. BABE IF YOU DON'T WANT IT, CHOOSE SOMETHING ELSE. 

The card also shows that he is terrified to show care, empathy and love. You guys have no idea how stoic he is whenever he is interacting with his environment. The fact that he he check on you, the fact that you can call him when you need help (availability), the fact that he reply quickly (you don't how many people he leaves on deliver … ), the fact that he goes out of his way to always bring your fav snack, the fact that he always make sure nobody is annoying you at work, school or even calm your brother down when his become too smart with you . Or the FUCKING fact that he actually smile at (even though is fucking small), the fact that he don't mind hugging you. He's only that soft for you, there's not a single girl he fuck, been a relationship with or even flirt with in which he was this attentive and kind. 

He’s a lightweight when it comes to alcohol. 

VIBES: Crush, brother bff, secrecy, secret admire and one sided romance 

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PILE 3

SONG: JONI - SZA FT Don Toliver

POV is your past self and future self. Is like a small note. Maybe you guys use the note in your phone like a diary. 

The Chérie D’Amour coming from PILE 2, this is your POV from the situation in PILE 2. Also your brother doesn't know you are out there living an all year hot girl summer and have a whole roster. They only see you as your innocent self. Funny enough (my own  observation), now I understand how hard it is for you to believe what I wrote because you are the same. The dude plays mister nonchalant, while you play Miss Innocent. Both of you have a facade that does not exist with each other. Like you guys actually have an intimate bond with each other. You allow yourself to be soft with him and he allows himself to accept it.

PAST: 9swords, 9 wands (reverse) 

 You are on the bus. A week after a crazy night where u spend the night at your one night or maybe sneaky link. You just have an epiphany 

Honestly … I want more. Is it crazy to say. I want someone to hold me close while playing in my hair. I want someone to look at me like I am the star of their life, like maybe if they look away I may vanish. I want to be the banter of their existence. I want to be the reason for their every breath. I want to go on vacation with the one that loves me. The one that will spend hours, hours and his money just to see a smile on my face. Someone ready to die to hear me laugh. Someone who is just like Jack, will let me, Rose stay on the door  because he prefers a cold death than letting me feel the pain of Atlantic water. Someone will pick me up bridal style after I call him because I am too drunk with my homegirl and can't make my way home. I want someone to comfort me when the tears are rolling down  my cheeks, I want someone to drop anything when my voice has a subtle shake and I want someone to be my safe haven. I want someone who will enjoy spending time with me even when all we do is sit in silence in a quiet room. I want to slow dance in the living room while the dinner is cooking. (Bitter laugh) What the fuck for ? Even if the one came I will destroy it the same way I destroy the marriage of my parents. Maybe all I actually need is a break from having sex. I am tired of getting disappointed , I am tired of sexting, I am tired of the 2 am booty call, I am tired of being easy, I am tired of hair pulling, the spitting, the fucking, the aftercare, the uber, the walk of shame and the fucking hole that's keep growing deeper every time I come home to an empty house after giving my all to another looser because I can’t seem to attract he right one and I am too lonely to refuse anyone.

I am tired of feeling lonely . 

Future : Knight swords, Hermit 

I am hearing : ‘’ Omg he hears me ! Omg he knows my name’’ 

This one is a note but the intention behind it is almost like a prayer.

Please don't take him. Let him love me. Let him stay in my life. (Your eyes are burning with tears, none fell, you are holding on for dear life. You are sitting in your bedroom). I will do anything you ask. Don't let him resent. Let him love me forever. Don't let life take his warmth away from  me. I love every part of him, I love his tattoo, I love his grumpy attitude, I love the way he holds on to my hand. The way he always longs for some physical contact with me otherwise he loses his mind (bitter laugh, oh no… babe you broke … the tears are flowing slowly). I love the way he trust me with his Lego collection, with his car tools and on his bike. I love the way he let me in, my pretty boy, my very pretty boy, he don't deserve all that (Fuck … I finally got the vibe … he may have been in altercation or just an argument with his family which trigger him extremely which made him take its distance. Like you know he's in a dark place but he refuses to let you see him like that (aww now my heart is breaking … y’all going to make a cold ass bitch emotional, now he’s asking me if you are crying. He hates when you cry and it would put him in so much pain to know he is the reason for it). Usually he is transparent and you have amazing communication. That why you are ugly sobbing because it must be very bad, if he is taking his distance). He always comfort me when my periods hurt, when my mom say mean things to me, when school is too hard or life become to overwhelming. Even when I am trying to ignore him, he drop everything for me. I don't know what else to say … you must let him love me. Who else is going to look at me with so much love, caress me with so much passion, make love to me, worship my body with kisses, tell me how much he loves me and how hard is going to work so I never regret choosing him. 

Technically it's stop here …because you are sending him a voice note but since I love y’all let me add it here. I apologize because it might be too messy to read. 

Hiccup, hiccup, (his name), breathing trying to keep it in, breaking down in  tears, talking while having hiccups :  just so you know I love you. Please don't leave me behind, pretty boy. You remember what I told you … you ain't have to feel ashamed for what you did. Baby please come to me, we can work it all. Let me comfort you. 

Breakdown again:  Fuck I am stress. You better comeback (weak attempt to a bossy tone). Please (pleading tone). 

VIBES : Forbidden romance, one bed proximity, touch her and I will kill you, I want and see only her, I don't deserve her, she's too good for me, he's the only one that truly loves me and know me, we should not be doing this but can't seem to stay away from each other.

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PILE 4 

SONG : STAY - Adanna Duru FT Leven Kali

POV YOUR FS. 

I actually shuffled some cards but y’all nasty step dad came through. He's a fucking pervert Chérie d’Amour and I am so sorry you had to deal with this looser in your childhood. I am fucking sorry your mama did not protect you more. 

Your husband DONT PLAY WHEN  IT COMES TO YOU. 

Is a text after the first night spent together. 

Hey beautiful,

I know we just hang up and you probably sleeping rn. Fuck sure is 3 am in the morning but I cant get enough of you. I hate the fact that I can't dream because sleep is keeping me away from you. I want to spend every one of my seconds on earth dedicated to you. Texting you, calling you and hearing you. I am so obsessed with you girl … so you know we are lock in, lock in. There's nobody but us. I don't care if you're mad or tired of me, we are going to work this out. I see the bigger picture with you baby. That not the only picture I have of you… I love kissing you. When your lips lay on top of  mine, my eyes I can't help but close, pushing into a transit state of pure bliss. I love having sex with you, your moans are like  music to me. You have such a beautiful voice, I know I always compliment you about it. I guess you awakened a new kink in me babygirl.I  can recognize your voice, touch and scent in a room full of strangers because my soul knows you. My fav habits of yours when it comes to loving me … is the way you kiss my forehead, my eyes, my cheek and my lips in one setting just to make me smile. I love staring into your pretty face. That’s probably why I stare that much at my phone when u aint around. And she gets even prettier when I am thrusting in and out of your tight pussy. I love when you baby me, even though I am 6’4 (maybe taller) and 3x your weight. I love being the small spoon. I love being your good boy. I love finding safety in your arms. I aint joking girl … I am going nowhere. I LOVE IT HERE. 

VIBES: Commitment, marriage, long lasting romance, wedding day, husband and wife and growing old together 

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[angelsdean]

hot take maybe but actually i do expect my mom to comfort me and make me an ice cream sundae when i’m sad even when i get to 40 and she’s 70. my grandma does that for her still. it’s not. limiting her. it’s not saying she only has to be my mommy. i have taken care of her too. it’s saying we love each other and want to take care of each other. mary struggling to be able to interact with grown up sam and dean was very very valid and understandable and i love her for it. she also could’ve maybe tried a little more anyway. they could’ve lent on each other. idk.

Yea i've said before that I think it's a bit outrageous the way people seem to think someone stops being a parent once their child reaches adulthood. Maybe it's a cultural thing, I don't know, but the whole idea of "once your kid turns 18 they're out the door and not your problem anymore" is so deeply flawed IMO. But yea I focus more on "debunking" the claim that Dean expects some sort of motherly coddling / babying from Mary because that seems to be the deancrit take I see the most with regards to this arc / the "i'm not just a mom" scene.

But for sure many people seem to have some weird ideas IMO about what it means to be a parent. Like I think you can feel for Mary and understand that parents can and are more than just parents, but also understand that they will never stop BEING a parent either. Their kids will always be their kids. It's why people always say being a parent is a full time job, not something to go into lightly, that you should be sure you actually want kids and understand that having them is a lifelong commitment etc etc. And having kids makes them become your priority, even when you want to be selfish you always have to try to put them first. Obviously that lessens as they grow up but like, if your adult child were injured or had some kind of health issue / challenges as a parent it's still your job to be there for them, to support them, to care for them. That doesn't just end at 18. It's why *I* know that even though I like the idea of kids I probably never will have any because it's so much responsibility and because those kids are always always going to come first, forever! That's kind of part of the parental "contract" IMO. And even when they're adults, a parent should still be the one person in the world your kid can turn to, rely on, seek comfort in.

And I understand these expectations are complicated in this particular narrative by the fact that Mary died young and is not equipped to be a mother to adults. I think that's such a delicious component that I wish they leaned into more. She is grieving her babies. She is allowed to feel those feelings and feel confused and unsure and struggle with accepting this new dynamic with her children. But a big part of Mary's arc in s12, which culminates in 12x22 with "I need you to see me" is that she is the one stuck in the past, needing to accept her reality and "SEE" her children for who they are now. That's what the arc is moving towards, that acceptance. And after s12 we see her and Dean have a better relationship. We see her still getting to be Mary the person AND Mary the "mom." She hunts, she comes and goes, but she's someone Dean can talk to, share a meal with, spend time together. It's what he always wanted most. He tells her in 14x11 that "just knowing you're around, that you're alive has meant everything to me."

Anyways, I won't ramble about all that again because I've made a bunch of posts about it already. But yes, I think it's normal for Dean (and Sam) to want Mary to comfort them, do nice things for them, the way any parent or really a family member in general might do. They are not asking for kisses on their boo-boos and getting tucked into bed with a bedtime story, which is how a lot of deancrit posts read. What they want is some sort of familial reciprocal care. Like the way Dean spends quality time with those he loves. The way he baked a cake for Jack. Cooks for his family. The way he gives people gifts. The way he fixes Cas's truck. The way he calls to check in on people. He doesn't do these things out of some obligation or playing some "role", he does them because he cares. Because he loves his family, and that's just what family does for each other.

Someone in my tags last night said it very well that what Dean really wanted was just, another family member, to spend time with, to share their joys and burdens with. Someone like Bobby, that he could turn to if he needed. Bobby was a parent figure but he wasn't "parenting" them, y'know? He was someone Dean could lean on, but he didn't expect Bobby to shoulder all his burdens. And I think that's what Dean wants most. Just someone he can lean on and rely on, since he's been having to be the strong one for everyone his whole life.

[littlewrensx]

She glanced at Archer, genuinely appreciating his advice. He could have been saying all this just because Calvin was his brother, but Wren didn’t think that was the case. He was just being honest, and, frustratingly, he was right. She let out a quiet sigh. "But what if I bore him? We already know what the sex is like—there’s no mystery left." Tanya groaned, rolling her eyes. "Wren, seriously? There’s way more to a relationship than just that. You two still have plenty to learn about each other." Wren huffed, shaking her head like the idea was absurd. But as Archer spoke about Harper, she realized she probably would never fully understand what it was like to be divorced. That wasn’t her experience. "I guess I just need to talk to him," she admitted, exhaling slowly. And maybe… actually give this a real chance.

Archer gave her a look. "Wren you did complicated the day you let my brother sleep with you. It's a mess as is, you have two choices. Admit you like him and see where it goes, worst that happens is you two break it off and figure out it wasn't meant to be at the end of the school year and you don't have to see Calvin again, or its something that is the rest of your life." He countered as he sipped his water. "Harper doesn't hate you, she's just realized this bubble of her dating and having Calvin to herself is over, and that is jarring to her. Trust me Calvin kind of flipped when she had a boyfriend. They aren't in love, but there was a lot of love there once upon a time they just were not compatiable."