#rob is literally fucking breaking all over the place

[sophsun1]

"I'm having some issues with this guy that I'm dating. Yeah. I want to take it to the next level, you know, by actually meeting this guy. What, you've never met the guy? No, never met him, never spoken with him, never seen him, but it's not weird because we're in constant communication through the beads."

IT'S ALWAYS SUNNY IN PHILADELPHIA | → S16E4. Frank vs Russia

[cakelitter]

Kiss It Better

Older! Leon x Fem! Reader

⋆·˚ ༘ * ୨ৎ ⋆·˚ ༘ *

warnings: daddy kink, p in v, oral (f receive), breeding kink, spanking, dirty talking, established relationship

words: 3.3k

a/n: hi hi!! no summary for this one cause... idk, a surprise? Reader is attention deprived, but I'd always be demanding more if di Leon was my bf like hello? (never shutting up about him) anw hope you enjoy!!

⋆·˚ ༘ * ୨ৎ ⋆·˚ ༘ *

Your boyfriend is mad at you.

And how does he decide to punish you? In the cruelest way possible, a way that he knows you’re not strong enough to handle.

Ignoring you.

Robbing you from his attention and validation, treating you like how you’d probably get treated on a daily basis with a guy your age.  

He has never been the type to give you attitude, or even raise his voice, but that does not mean that you go unscathed when you mess up. Right now, he is living his life like he normally does, well his life before he met you apparently. No pet names, no kisses, no “I love you”, not even looking at what you’re talking about and just replying with the most unenthusiastic hum he can muster up at literally everything you say.

“Daddy, look at this cute dog.”

“Hm.”

“How was work?”

“Hm.”

“I almost got ran over by a truck on the highway.”

“Hm.”

It’s pissing you off, and that’s exactly why he’s doing it. Figured out which buttons to push to get on your nerves, and is actively pushing every single one of them. You curl up on his side, wrapping your arm around his neck and place your head on his shoulder. And in return his eyes remained glued to the TV.

You’re going to cry, rip your hair out, and throw yourself off the balcony.

Worst part is that you actually apologized, not once, not twice, but three fucking times, and yet, it all falls to deaf ears. Why is he acting like you kicked homeless puppies or set an orphanage on fire?

Daddy is supposed to be forgiving, and he always has been; pulling you into a hug after each argument, kissing your face and all over your body till you feel better. But apparently daddy is under new management now, following a new set of policies that are getting in the way of your dire need for his attention.

The first day you realized that he’s ignoring you, you’d talk to him and he won’t respond, and if he did it was short and dry answers. Treating you like a persistent fly that just won’t leave him alone, the smile on his lips that was always present when he looked at you is now hid behind his cold gaze.

You tried cuddling, cracking a few jokes, and even started a conversation that you just ended up having with yourself. All of those strategies were met with the same result, nothing. It’s like someone took the man your loved and replaced him with a brick wall, devoid from any capabilities of forming emotional connections or any sort of bond for that matter.

On day two, you tried to make it harder for him to ignore you. Wearing the skimpiest clothes around the house, putting on his shirt with nothing underneath and even went the extra mile of spraying yourself with his perfume. You practically threw yourself over his lap, nuzzling into him and peppering kisses all over his rough stubble.

Nothing.

Actually, he did say something. “You’re blocking the TV.”  

Felt like a slap to the face, you stare at him for a bit hoping that he acknowledges your existence. Again, nothing. His dick is half hard beneath you, aching for your wet heat, and instead of making you ride his dick till you’re crying, he remains still. So now not only is he ignoring you, he’s ignoring his cock as well.

Fine then, the shirt is now off, you are sleeping in your shared bed fully naked and bare like the day you popped out into this world. Figured since Leon is stubborn, maybe he just had a high ego and is too embarrassed to break whatever promise he made to himself to ignore your pathetic attempts of winning him back.

He’ll walk in the room, find you basically giving him an invitation to touch you, waiting patiently in case he changed his mind, and fall right into your trap. A fool proof plan…

The number of times you’ve gotten clowned are getting embarrassing at this point.

Not only did he not do anything, he didn’t do as much as touch you the whole night. Sleeping on his side of the bed and leaving you in the same position you fell asleep in. The arms that would wrap around you during the night are missing, same goes to the hot breath that would fan out on the nape of your neck as you drift off to sleep. Again, cruel old man behavior.

And so, today marks day three without attention. You’ve lost your appetite, lost smell in your left arm, eyelid keeps twitching, haven’t been sleeping well, and you’ve become much irritable. This is getting out of hand; this man has no mercy for your soul. He might as well just shoot you in the leg instead and you’d accept that any day over what he’s doing right now.

You’ve considered just getting on your knees, intertwining your hands together and begging him to talk to you again. Usually, you are never this desperate for a man to talk to you, except for him. Leon has showered you with love every day since the two of you got together, his best and only girl, the apple of his eye, the sole reason he keeps going. You’ve gotten so accustomed to being his baby that it has become an innate need.

In the midst of your desperate attempts, you reach plan C. If it doesn’t work you’ll just give up and actually start acting like a normal fucking person for once, but god forbid things need to reach that point.

This time you don’t say a word to him, ignoring him the way he’s ignoring you. No good morning, no pleading, nothing.

You hop in the shower and then begin to get ready to go out. Your hair is done with extra effort today, and makeup is on point. Not sure if the outfit you’re wearing could be even classified as “clothes”. Cleavage on display, and ass almost hanging out of the miniskirt you have on.

It’s probably illegal to walk out dressed like that, a hazard to public safety. You might as well wear lingerie and call it a day; but believe it or not, that’s what you’re aiming for.

You can see Leon’s eyes look up from his laptop momentarily as you walk past him to go grab something from the other room, but just as you expected he minds his own business, going back to whatever he was doing.

That’s until you see his figure walk into your shared bedroom, leaning back on the door frame, watching you add some final touches to your makeup through the reflection of your vanity. You pretend like you didn’t see him, directing all your focus onto lining your lips.

“Where you going?” Ah, there it is, the first proper sentence he’s said in the past three days.  An achievement that surely deserves a celebration.

 This is what parents must feel like when their child speaks their first word. The child being a man in his late thirties and twice your size, but you digress. With your eyes remaining glued to your lips, you speak coldly. “Out.”

“Out where?”

“There’s this new club my friend wants us to check out together.”

“Which friend?” The look plastered on his face is hilarious; his eyes moving back and forth between yours and your poor excuse of a skirt. He seems worried, more for himself than for you, watching his faux confidence crumble in front of him.

“Won’t be gone for long, don’t worry.” You reply, closing your lip gloss and putting it back in your makeup bag while rubbing your lips together.

“I didn’t ask if you were going to be late or not, I asked which friend.” This tough demeanor doesn’t suit him, he’s clearly out of his element. Fixing his posture, he crosses his arms waiting for you to respond. “Does it matter, Leon?”

You dropped the bomb, letting his name slip out your lips instead of the D-word feels weird, borderline painful, but it had to be done. He goes quiet, your eyes too scared to look back at him through the mirror which has been serving as a way of communication between the two of you.

Can’t remember the last time you addressed him with his name, took you no longer than two weeks to start babbling daddy; his name long forgotten and dust collected in the back of your mind. He liked it, a name only you get to call him by, a trigger you pull causing him to immediately slip into the protective mental space, a space only reserved for you.

“Leon?”

You’re going to shit your pants this actually not even funny.

“Um, isn’t that your name?” Grabbing your purse, you give yourself a one final look over before walking towards the door. Your legs feel wobbly, never the type to start any of these kinds of petty situations. Usually all you have to do is flutter your lashes at him and he immediately gives you whatever you want, this time however he brought this onto himself.

Walking past him, you can feel his eyes burning into the back of your scalp, his energy feeling heavy. You feign confidence, walking slow, posture straight and hips swaying from side to side. Truthfully, you are fighting the urge to just book it and run as far as these heels can take you (not that far) before he does whatever is running through his mind.

You don’t even get to make it two steps away from the door before a hand yanks you back into the room, and throws you over his shoulder.

“Leon, I’m already late, put me down!” A loud smack echoes through the room as a stinging pain overtakes your senses. You yelp out, blood rushing over to the red handprint on your ass, heat spreading on the area.

Your back hits the plush mattress of the bed and within seconds he’s on top of you. His hand grabs one of your thighs spreading them wider as the other goes for your neck. Crashing his lips against yours, a groan escapes your lips, as his hips thrust against your core, hardened dick rubbing against your panty clad cunt.

“Oh yeah, I’m sure that ‘friend’ of yours would be pissed.” His breath feels hot against your lips with each word that leaves his mouth. “What did I tell you about lying, baby?”

Should’ve known that lying doesn’t work on him, never did and never will. Has you memorized by heart, starting from your actions, reactions, and every thought that crosses your mind.

Reality is, there is no friend, and there is no new club. You just wanted to get a reaction out of him, and making up a whole scenario was the only option you had left. “I’m sorry.”

His hand lands on your ass once again with a loud slap, your body jolts in pain as you bite your lip to suppress a whine. “Sorry what?”

“I’m sorry daddy.”

“Atta girl.” He coos, his hand rubbing against the burning skin, rewarding you with a sweet kiss. “See that wasn’t so hard, was it?” The cold air hits your nipples as he drags your top down, revealing your breasts too him. He gropes one, moving over and giving the stiff peak a firm pinch. “Why’d you lie sweetheart?”

Him and those fucking questions, can’t the interrogation wait till he fucked you? His hips continue rubbing against yours, the gusset of your panties is soaked with your arousal. “Wanted daddy’s attention.”

“Of course you did.” He chuckles lowly, eyes focused on your tits as he plays with them. A smile flashes across your lips, maybe your plan did work after all, not fully the way you intended it to; but it worked nonetheless.

His hands are on you, he’s speaking again, and his cock in near reach. Maybe life’s not so bad after all.

“I wouldn’t call this a win, sweetheart; think I might just play with these tits and leave you like this.” The smile that was once present on your glossy lips disappears, your heart drops at the possibility of him leaving you to deal with the aching between your thighs, again. It’s been three long rough days without his dick, he can’t be doing this to you.

“No, no, no please daddy, I’m sorry.” You shake your head from side to side, knots forming between your brows, hoping that your pleading is enough to convince him.

“Was actually going to apologize for being so mean to you lately, but after seeing you act like this… I don’t know, baby.”  You whine, head falling back down on the mattress below.

Frustrated, tears begin to brim in your eyes as your hands reach over and grab his muscular forearm. “I’m so sorry, daddy. I promise I won’t do it again.”

His eyes stare into yours, he stays quiet for a moment before his eyes soften. Dropping down, he places a kiss on your forehead, his thumb caressing the side of your cheek. “Pretty girl, I’m sorry too, shouldn’t have been so harsh with you.”

He presses another soft peck on your cheek, smiling at you warmly. Your heart begins to thump faster, your sadness dissipating with each passing moment. He’s back, you can’t tell of you feel good because the two of you made up, or because his hard cock is still rubbing against your wet heat.

“I need you.” you whisper, rubbing against his hand like a kitten. Chuckling, he nods and kisses you this time on the lips and it feels ten times sweeter than normal. Rubbing your sides, his hand slithers down to your clothed clit, rubbing soft circles, causing your back to arch.

“Think it’s about time to makeup it up for you, sweetheart.” You hum in agreement, capturing your bottom lip in a bite, and spreading your thighs even wider, inviting him to continue. His lips connect to the tender skin on your neck, kissing and biting down on it, your hands tangling between his soft locks and closing your eyes in pleasure.

Moving back, he admires his work momentarily before dropping down to his knees at the foot of the bed. Unzipping your skirt, he pulls the fabric down before tossing it somewhere behind him along with your soaked panties. Calloused hands snake the inside of your thighs, gentle caresses along with some gropes here and there.

His fingers spread your lips open, in awe at the view in front of him, your arousal evident and dipping down from your core like a waterfall, down to the sheets below. “Missed you too, baby. Daddy missed you so much.”

Those words are not for you, but for your cunt, addressing it like it’s his. An open-mouthed kiss gets placed on your clit, his blue eyes staring deeply into yours as he does so. The scene on its own is enough to make you cum.

Teasing you, he places a few more on your thighs; eyes not leaving yours for a minute. He rubs his cheek against the soft skin, the stubbled chin feeling prickly. Giving it the love and affection that it missed out on.

You wait patiently, letting him enjoy and take his time, basking in the heart warming feeling of it all. Like always, good behavior never goes unnoticed, and so he rewards you by pulling the hood of your clit back, and sucking on the sensitive bundle of nerves, a satisfied groan vibrating through it amplifying the pleasure.

His skilled tongue makes out with your pussy, licking and fucking itself into you. Your moans fill the room, gripping the covers below you for dear life. Feeling your orgasm around the corner, but as soon as you notice his hips subconsciously thrusting into the footboard of the bed below, groans coming out of his busy lips, the knot in your stomach snaps immediately, causing your thighs to squeeze around his head as he holds your hips in place.

Placing your foot on his shoulder, you pull away from your core, the uncomfortable sensation of overstimulation taking over your senses. He moves back, stubble glistening in the mixture of your fluids and his spit.

He looks into your half-lidded eyes for a moment, his hand rubbing your thigh affectionately before kissing the inside of it. “So pretty, such a pretty girl.”

Your heart flutters, getting high on each love filled word he says. Grabbing his hand in yours, you pull him up towards you, connecting your lips in a kiss much more tender than he ones before. Lust and desire dissipating, replaced with the warm feeling of adoration. He pets your hair, leaving a final peck on your nose, causing you to giggle in response.

The mood however shifts again when you feel the imprint of his cock through his sweatpants; the familiar aching between your legs ignites once more, begging for him. “Daddy.”

“Right here.”

“Want you inside” He captures your bottom lip into a deeper kiss, his hands assisting yours in taking his pants off. Breaking the kiss, he fully removes them, revealing his thick cock to your desire filled eyes; the flushed pink tip, and the dollop of sticky precum begin to drip down the side of it.

He wraps his fist around it, pumping himself a few times, earning a sharp inhale out of the sensation. The head bumps against your clit, slapping against it a few times before guiding it down to your entrance. The two of you moan at the stretch, his fingers digging into the plush of your thighs. “So tight, sweetheart. Fucking meant for this dick.”

Your eyes flutter close, trying to compose yourself before you feel him begin to move. You can feel every inch and every vein inside your velvety walls. The aroma of sex over takes your senses as his thrusts begin to pick up speed.

Wrapping your legs around his waist, his fingers intertwine with yours as he slams into you, deep and speedy thrusts causing the bed to creak beneath your masses. “Take it, baby. Take it so daddy can fuck you full of his cum.”

Your walls pulsate around him, your hand squeezing his. “Want it.”

“Fuck, might knock you up sweetheart. Make you a mommy as an apology.” Your back arches, his voice bouncing off the walls inside your mind. You nod, biting down on your bottom lip, head empty and pussy gripping his length.

“Like that? Mark you as mine forever, pretty tight pussy all mine.” You wail, gripping onto his shoulders tightly, leaning back your head in attempts to stop yourself from being too loud. “Gonna keep you here all night, make sure that this sweet cunt takes it.”

Pleasure blinds your vision as you let go, your cum coating his dick as he begins to chase his own high. Your head lolls emptily to the side as he continues to fuck into you relentlessly, the head board hitting the wall behind it. Your tits bounce with each thrust, the image of you getting pumped full of Leon’s cum still evident in your mind.

His hips shudder as he releases inside of you, hot and sticky fluid accompanied by some curses and words of praise, earning a satisfied hum from you. Thrusting in a few more times, he admires the sight beneath him, distributing your fluids evenly.

He pulls out, flopping down next to you, as his arm wraps around your body, pulling your closer to his chest. Rough hands pet your hair, as he rests his chin on your temple, keeping your body warm next to his.

The two of you sit in silence momentarily trying to catch your breath. Your eyelids feel heavy, body completely worn out and satisfied as you start slipping away into a much-needed worry free rest, hearing your lover whisper something into your hair.

“Sorry for being mean, sweetheart. Daddy loves you.”

⋆·˚ ༘ * ୨ৎ ⋆·˚ ༘ *

divider by: @/floriseu

[apuckishwit]

When Your Boyfriend's a Reformed Mean Girl

100 percent inspired by this tiktok: https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTR75sjkf/

Time seems to do wierd things for Eddie Munson.

It's something Steve has gotten used to, in the year they've been dating. Eddie is attentive and affectionate, always makes sure Steve needs are being met, always goes the extra mile to let Steve know how much he loves him, how much he cherishes their time together. In many ways, he's the best partner Steve's ever had.

Just...sometimes things like approaching deadlines and important dates seem to literally not register in his brain until it's almost too late. And not even then, sometimes.

Eddie acknowledges that it's a problem. He puts every effort into finding workarounds. There is a calendar hanging at both his (brand new, government-funded) trailer and Steve's house, hanging right by the door with color-coded schedules and a pack of Post-It notes and a cup of pens sitting on a little table below it in case something changes or comes up. Steve has a dedicated half hour every night where he's allowed to remind Eddie of things they have coming up, or ask if they've been added to the calendar and Eddie is one hundred percent not allowed to gripe about being nagged in that thirty minutes. Not that he would, because most of the time there's at least one, "Oh, shit, forgot about that." When something slips through the cracks, he apologizes promptly and sincerely if it's something that affects someone other than him and he is always trying to do better.

Steve understands. Hell, after as many concussions as he's had, details get away from him too sometimes. There's several color-coded blocks on the calendar for Steve, as well. Sometimes, Eddie just forgets things despite his best efforts.

But their anniversary? The date that Steve has been carefully planning for almost a month to celebrate their first (of hopefully, many) year together as a couple? Really?

Eddie is going to be horrified.

He is going to feel so bad, and so guilty, and he is absolutely going to go all out to make it up to Steve. Steve knows this. He knows Eddie loves him, and that Eddie was looking forward to tonight as much as he was, and that this is just an instance of Eddie's brain betraying him, and not him actively trying to hurt Steve, or be dismissive of him. Eddie is going to feel awful when he realizes that he stood Steve up on their one-year anniversary to fight imaginary dragons with the boys. Hell, the boys are probably going to feel awful when they realize they gave Eddie something else to focus on in the lead-up to his one-year anniversary.

Well. Dustin, Lucas, and Will are going to feel awful. Mike will probably think it's hilarious.

The point is, Steve knows Eddie didn't do this on purpose, and it's not that Eddie doesn't value his time with Steve enough to remember the date, and so he's merely irritated. Maybe a little exasperated. Not truly angry.

All he has to do is radio over to Wheeler's place and remind Eddie what the date is. His boyfriend will literally drop everything, will probably not even bother to pack up his precious miniatures and dice before he's tearing out of the driveway and breaking every traffic law imaginable to get to Steve's house. Steve doesn't actually want Eddie to get a ticket or anything, though. Besides.

He's feeling a little petty.

There's steaks waiting to be tossed on the grill, twice-baked potatoes in the oven, and a fucking homemade chiffon cake with fresh strawberries and whipped cream chilling in the fridge. Eddie's gift is sitting on the counter, in an elegant little gift bag tied with black ribbon.

"Hey Rob, you wanna come over for dinner?" he says into his walkie, deciding to let Fate decide if his boyfriend is listening and catches a clue.

"Do I get a piece of that cake you made?" Robin replies immediately, amusement already dancing in her voice because she's his (platonic) soulmate and she can read his mind.

"You can take the leftovers home," he says.

And then his (romantic) soulmate, who can usually read his mind, comes over the channel as well. "Have fun, babe!" Eddie says brightly. "This is probably going to run later than I thought. I'll probably just pick you up for breakfast tomorrow, okay?"

Steve rolls his eyes fondly. "Okay."

"Love you!" Eddie says, and signs off.

Robin brings a bottle of wine she stole from her parents' pantry and they demolish the dinner and half the cake. Steve does get another package of steaks out to thaw in the fridge for tomorrow, though, and blows out the fancy candles he'd lit before they burn too low to be used again. Fuck if he's making another chiffon cake, though, persnickety little thing. He calls Enzo's and orders a chocolate marble cheesecake to be picked up tomorrow.

"So you gonna milk this for a nice present or what?" Robin asks as Steve is packing the remains of the cake for her to take home, as promised.

"Nah. He's fucking perfect like 90% of the time...I'm not gonna get mad at him for the other ten." Robin smiles at him, a little gooey-eyed. Steve returns it with a smirk. "But I'm not letting him off the hook entirely."

He has just finished putting the dishes away when he hears the rumble of Eddie's van in the driveway. He glances down at his watch, laughing to himself a little when he notes that while late, it is far, far too early for a gaming session to be done. He scoops his little gift bag off the counter and saunters to the front door just in time for a frantic knocking to sound. He schools his features and opens the door.

"Steve! Stevie, baby, I am so, so sorry. I swear to God, I had tonight written down in like five different places, but Dustin wanted to try a new character class and we haven't done this campaign yet, and I got so excited...I'm so sorry I forgot, but I'm here and I SWEAR I will make it up to you!" Eddie pauses for breath, wild-eyed and panting.

Steve holds the silence for a moment, and then shakes his head, leaning forward to drop a kiss on Eddie's cheek. "You're such a nerd," he says, affection dripping from his words. He sighs. "I hope you know, now I'm expecting flowers tomorrow. And I get to pick the movies for, like, two weeks with no complaints."

Eddie almost wilts in relief. "Absolutely none," he promises, reaching out to grip Steve's hand. "I will make tomorrow night AMAZING. I promise."

Steve smiles at him, his chest aching with the love he feels for this man. But he's still feeling just a little bit petty. He holds the bag out to Eddie, tilting his head coyly. "You can still open this tonight, though."

"Babe! I thought we said no gifts." He takes the bag in his hands, plucking at the ribbon.

Steve's smile turns just a little sharper. He worked fucking hard on that cake. "It's kind of for both of us, really. It's what I was gonna wear up to bed tonight."

Eddie peeks in the box, his brow furrowing. "Stevie...there's nothing but strawberry lip gloss and a bottle of lube in here." He looks up, and freezes as his brain catches up with what his mouth just said.

Steve leans forward and kisses him, hard, long, and absolutely filthy. "Suffer," he whispers against his boyfriend's lips.

Then he shuts the door in his face.

[rcksmith]

Brick by Brick - Kaz Brekker

Requests: “Heyy, I wanted to request a Kaz Brekker x reader fic where y/n is Pekka Rollins' innocent and naive daughter, and she stumbles across Kaz when he breaks into Pekka's house. Kaz tells her to stay quiet and stuff and y/n obviously has no idea who Kaz is, only that he's handsome as fuck and she kinda falls in love with him despite the fact that he's literally robbing her father

Love, anon :3

P.S. I love your writing.”

Couple: Kaz Brekker/ Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing.

Word count: 2k

A/N: Thank you very much for your kindness and sorry for the delay. I love you. My loves, requests are open and I am banning Kaz's smut request rules. U can ask for anything in the original universe, without being in a UA. I hope you like💕 English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

------------

Ketterdam was not a good place. It wasn't safe, it wasn't pretty, it wasn't healthy. Every dark corner, every ghostly street, every edge whispering curses, was fulfilled the entire list of unholy sins and harbored monsters as horrible as the harbor rats on the coast. If the soil in that place was cursed, the people were demons.

Pekka Rollin’s knew this like he knew how to count kruger. He was one of those monsters. He taught profanity and stained the ground on which his feet walked with innocent blood. Pekka destroyed homes, hopes, kicked people's dreams and hit each one soul with his staff of damnation.

Each one.

Because of it that he kept his daughter under lock and key from the ugly world, far from that wretched city that he himself helped build the horrors and desolations. Maybe it was out of love, maybe it was out of sensitivity. Or maybe it was because you were the only healthy and intelligent heiress capable of leading his empire one day. You represent too many precious things for him to risk losing control over you. Maybe Pekka would never be able to love anything or anyone other than his own greed.

Whatever it was, he covered your eyes to Ketterdam. He decorated the blood-stained walls with sparkling pink and said to you that the smoke that covered the tops of Ketterdam's houses at night was Aladdin's magical fog, which pointed the way to a cave full of treasures, and not that it was the incinerated bodies of his enemies, nosy people and families who starved to death on their land. Pekka deceived you with pretty tales that the big mansion you lived in was because he would always give you the best, and not that it was bought with money stolen from honest people and that he liked to see in material forms the extent of his capabilities of evil. Like a trophy.

Rollin’s wove the ties around your limbs like a cursed puppet, and pulled your strings according to his unscrupulous interests of greed. For all of Ketterdam, Pekka was a demon of the worst kind. But for you, he was a bearded, loving father who made you see magic and romance in every corner of that city condemned by God.

The worst types of monsters were those who tricked and manipulated their children like pawns in a game of chess. But, again, perhaps Pekka wasn't capable of loving anything other than his own greed.  And, if the price for having an heir who agreed, trusted him for the rest of the life, who would follow in his footsteps and obey all his order, was to make you believe in his goodness, in the beauty of a life with him only to implant wonderful - and illusory -  memories in your childhood, so be it. After all, you were a girl, and in his view, girls were sentimental. So how would you go against him in the future, or not act according to his orders or not run his business as he wanted when he was too old, if you only had memories of him being an excellent and loving father? You will feel so guilty! You would fall under the weight of your own mind's arguments that everything he once did was to protect and give you the best, so your only obligation would be to be a good girl and return the favor by obeying your father's orders.

Loyalty.

Maybe, if you were someone else and this was a different story, you would have realized the hoax at 16 years old. Maybe you would have born with a strong, inquisitive and responsive personality. Maybe you would have developed that spark and fire that wouldn't let you lower your head to any man, that would make you stamp your foot on the ground, lift your chin with petulance and unravel the mysteries of that dark empire alone and take justice into your own hands.

But this was no different story. And you were just you.

You were born with a sweet aura and gentle personality. You liked butterflies and flowers since birth because their color and beauty attracted you and made you smile. Your romantic nature was not only accepted by your father, but encouraged and recharged every day - for his dark game. 

For 19 years you lived in the theatrical farce that Pekka created with monstrous hands, believing and agreeing with every story in your bubble. But the blame can never fall on the shoulders of the pure in heart, who blindly believed in words and stories just because it didn't have a single wave of malice or disbelief in the veins. One should never condemn the soul that was born naturally sweet and destined to be the breath of light that such a terrible world as Ketterdam needed. 

 You believed in love, fairy tales and pure honesty, and that was not a defect. The Herculean guilt should fall on the shoulders of the devil who abused the innocence of a girl for his greedy benefit.

In your perfect world manipulated and distorted by the unscrupulous Pekka, you blossomed like a dazzling lily in the middle of Plato's allegory of The Cave. You acted with honesty, patience and affection towards everyone who crossed your path: employees, cooks, gardeners, bakers, painters, stylists, delivery people, friends of your father.

You were, genuinely, a kind soul. Your interests were related to literature, cooking and painting, your heart vibrated with the sunset, with the first snowflake falling to the ground and how twilight seemed even more stunning in books when they portrayed a couple in love beneath it.

You always saw the poetic, lyrical, angelic side of life, with the eyes of an artist and a passionate soul, smelling mystery and romance in the air when others only smelled wet grass because of the rain.

And being like that was, perhaps, the reason for your downfall.

It was three o'clock in the morning on a Friday the thirteenth. A combination so full of superticities, curses, fears and prague. While some saw that day and time as a condemned and satanic sign, you saw it as something mystical, mysterious and enigmatic. And maybe that was your mistake. Maybe you should be careful about the things you think, the things you wish. Maybe three in the morning on a Friday really was the devil's time. Because as you crossed the hallway of the mansion's library, unable to sleep, you saw him.

Dressed in black like the darkness outside. Skin as white as the moon's glow. Hair personified as a raven's feathers. He seemed to belong to the mysteries and occultism of the world as sin belonged to hell. The huge Victorian window behind illuminated him like an apparition, a mirage, a nightmare…an erotic dream. Or like a demon.

You should have screamed. You should have ran away. You should have done something other than get stuck in that same place, anything other than feeling inside you squirms and something sinks into your belly like warm honey.

His eyes, as blue as the deadly waters of icy Fjerda, were fixed on you with as much intensity as the dangers of Shadow Fold. For a split second, a human emotion passed through those irises; surprise?

An inattentive observer would not have noticed such a tiny sign, but you lived 19 years analyzing every detail of life.

Would a demon have such a mundane emotion?

“Who are you?” Your voice came out like a breath in winter. 

Your concentration should have been on your dad book under that man's arm, but it wasn't.

A single thick, black eyebrow of his was arched, and only there were you able to run your eyes over the details of his appearance.

“Do you always ask questions for thieves?” His voice was like the scratching of sand on a stone, like a withered willow branch brushing against human skin.

That man, in his entirety, seemed to have come out of the dark romance books that you read hidden in your room in the early hours of the morning. You should have focused on the fact that he just called himself a thief, not the way your soul seemed to be shivering because of his voice.

“Or you´re just stupid?” the thief continued.

Kaz never made decisions based on fear. Only in despair. 

His analytical mind rewound every step of the years he spent investigating Pekka Rollin's; every detail, every day, every season, every strand of gray that appeared in Pekka's red hair. Where had Kaz gone wrong? Pekka had no children. And Kaz made no mistakes. Never. But the girl in front of him, too curious for her own good and common sense, had too similar traits to Pekka to be anything other than his daughter.

Desperation hit.

This made EVERYTHING infinitely more Herculaneum. Your existence meant that Pekka had many more secrets than the Kaz discovered in their constant meticulous investigation. You were a loophole, and that meant there could be others. Loopholes that Kaz had no idea about. Kaz Brekker felt naked, even though he was covered from toes to neck. Being without clothes wouldn't have bothered him any more than the damn fact that he hadn't come up with the perfect plan. He failed. And that disturbed him deeply.

Suddenly, that library seemed sneaky and questionable, even though Brekker had studied the layout of the mansion for months.

How the fuck did he didn't have the knowledge about that girl?!

A daughter meant many things. But being caught by his daughter created a LOT of problems. Problems involving Kaz Brekker on a gallows.

Fucking hell.

The Barril's bastard waited for a scream, for an accusation, waited for the guards to be alerted at any moment and…the silence was sepulcher. A silence so solemn that he heard the sound of his own blood running through his veins. None of his muscles relaxed, but the part of his brain that worked in despair was activated.

Or he could kill you. But a body would add an extreme problem and…

‘’Who are you?’’ Your voice was so feminine that for a second Kaz thought he had fallen backwards and landed in a bed of roses.

Which was bullshit. Because he never falls. And he had never touched a rose in his entire life

Were you really talking to the man who was robbing your house?! Where was your instinct?! Your common sense?! Your discernment?! And where, by the damned Saints, were you all these years?

“…you don’t look like a thief’ That voice again. That damn voice that made him think of roses he never touched.

Why didn't you shut up and run away?

“Have you seen enough thieves to know one?” Normally Kaz had higher control, but he couldn't hold back his whip tongue, which seemed somehow wanting to hurt you the same way he was being hurt.

That atypical creature blushed. You blushed! For the love of the saints! Who blushes face to face with imminent danger?! Were you stupid or just terribly naive?! And why did that sweet blush remind him once again of a rose?

Bloody hell, where have you been all these years?! Why didn't anyone tell him about you?!

“No’’ you replied like a little animal being caught biting the sofa “but common thieves wouldn’t have that much intelligence to be able to bypass the security of this entire mansion’’

You had a point. But why were you worried about arguing with a damn thief instead of running away?

“That's yet another reason why you should keep your mouth shut about what you're seeing here.” His voice dropped to deeper, more threatening tones. “Bypass security is not as difficult for me, just like hiding a body''

That should have scared you. It made you scared; but with less than it really should. He was threatening you with death, his voice as cold and hoarse as a grim reaper, his eyes as serious as prophecies of the apocalypse. So why you could only think that this about him was overwhelmingly enthralling?

Maybe it was because there was a lack of excitement in your life, maybe it was because you've read a lot of erotic books about mysterious men entering the towers at night and taking the girl away, or maybe it was because Pekka deprived you of the world so much that he left you unaware of the true gravitas of situations. Whatever it was, there was something that grounded you like the roots of ancient trees, something that made you want to look at that thief more closely. Perhaps you liked the danger... That nameless man represented a large part of all the danger of Ketterdam that was so diligently hidden from you for 19 years. He represented death. But he also represented the new, the mystery, the unknown. And you, romantic by nature, loved the occult and its secrets. That man came from a world of shadows, mists, risks, deaths. Where every night was full of adrenaline and every second was a fight to stay alive. He smelled like the ghostly five a.m. fog that you watched envelop the mansion every winter, that made your heart clench with the feeling that there was so much more to the world than you knew. Very quickly, Kaz - even though you didn't know his name yet - became everything you'd always wanted to know, but had always been deprived of.

Once again, you weren't a different person to know about Pekka's disgusting game, but you were romantic enough to feel your soul begging for adventure. Even if these adventures meant ruin. A downfall.

Did it only take one handsome, mistery man for you to throw all your comfort in life out the window and want to ruin yourself with him? Want to get lost with him? The same stranger who just threatened to kill you? Apparently, yes.

You took a step into the library, and Kaz stood firm on the ground, his blue eyes boring into yours like a shining knife. Brekker thought you were extremely naive. Who knew that damn Pekka Rollin's daughter would be so pure? He would bet the Crow Club on the certainty that, if Pekka saw you now, he would have a heart attack. The monster sure had kept you in a little pink bubble your entire life, given that you seemed to not have a single ounce of survival instinct left in you. And how would you have? You certainly didn't know what pain, loss, hunger, cruelty were. This was comical and irritating to Brekker. You were a daddy's little girl. But it was in these waters of thought that his ship hit one fact: you must be very valuable to Pekka. Because otherwise that idiot wouldn't have made so many efforts to hide you from the entire world. To hide the wrong eyes from you. Eyes like Kaz's.

A shiver ran through Brekker's body; a damn good chill, a note of music he'd been waiting to hear his whole life. Revenge.

Brick by brick.

Oh, how ironic fate was. The boy who lost everything at Pekka's hands, was face to face with what was everything for the man. Like a breaking violin string, you have become the most valuable item in all of Ketterdam to be stolen. The most valuable item for Kaz Brekker.

The corner of his mouth turned up, as if pulled by the devil's rope as he set the book down again. He had something else to take away.

Kaz advanced towards yoou. And suddenly, as fast as lightning that cuts through the darkness, everything in your vision turned black and you fell into the abyss of unconsciousness as something pressed against your nose and mouth.

[xomakara]

Love Me Now

SUMMARY | Jeno just wants to love you. PAIRING | Jeno/Reader GENRE | smut with no plot, unprotected sex (wrap it up everyone!), fingering, vaginal sex, shower sex RATING | Mature LENGTH | 4763 words AUTHOR’S NOTE | Finally a solo one for Jeno. I’m literally running out of plots haha

"Please..." You were backed against the wall, your hands in front of you to stop his advances.

"I can't take it anymore." He leaned into you again, pinning one of your wrists up against the wall with one hand. His other hand moved to your face and he softly ran his thumb over your bottom lip. "Do you really want me to stop, Y/N?"

Your heart raced and there was a thin film of sweat covering your body as he kissed you. You couldn't remember ever wanting anyone this badly before.

"Jeno..." You whispered his name, reaching up to push his chest but he stopped you by running his finger from your temple to your jawline.

"Just what have you done to me, Princess?" Jeno whispered, leaning forward and biting your lower lip gently before nipping at it.

You wanted him so badly that you ached, feeling lightheaded and breathless as he continued his onslaught on your mouth. All you could think about was the feel of his tongue in your mouth, his strong hands on your waist.

He pulled away slowly, looking at you with a lustful glint in his eyes. "Y/N..." He breathed. "Will you give me permission to touch you?"

"Jeno...I-" Your mind couldn't even process what he had asked you.

His eyes dropped to your lips. "Yes?"

You bit your lip. He lowered his head and your eyes closed voluntarily when he pressed a soft kiss against your lips. It wasn't quite enough, not nearly enough to satisfy you. The words hung heavy in the air between you both as you stood staring at each other. He ran his hand down your back, his fingers trailing lightly along your spine until he reached the small of your back.

"Jeno..." You murmured, still trying to wrap your head around what was happening. "What if the others saw us? What would they think?"

He laughed under his breath. "What would it matter if you and I got caught?"

You opened your mouth to respond but nothing came out.

"Y/N..." He whispered, bringing his lips close to yours again. "Tell me yes or no."

You blinked once, twice and then again. There was nothing left in your brain except an overwhelming need to feel his lips on yours again. You didn't hesitate; you only knew you wanted to kiss him back. Your hand slipped behind his neck and brought him closer to you as you wrapped your arms around his neck. His lips met yours, stealing your breath and robbing you of all reason.

It was just him, you and that moment in time. That one precious second where everything seemed right. When it felt like the whole world was spinning at a hundred miles per hour, you found your footing and everything made sense again. Everything fell into place, in the most perfect way possible.

"No...no more playing games." He said softly. He lifted your chin so you looked directly at him. "I don't care who catches us."

You nodded, not saying anything. He trailed a gentle line down your cheek with his thumb and then slid his hand to cup your face. His eyes locked with yours. "Is that a 'yes'?"

You smiled and shook your head. "Not yet."

He chuckled, making you smile wider as he brought his lips to your forehead. "Alright then..."

You pushed against his chest and tried to break free but his grip tightened. You gave him an exasperated look. "Jeno, we're attracting a crowd here."

He laughed, looking over his shoulder to see his members looking at the both of you. He looked back at you. "It's not like the guys haven't seen us before."

"That's the guys. What about your manager and the stylists?" You huffed. "I was embarrassed the last time your manager caught us kissing. I'll be damned if she sees me getting fucked by you."

He groaned, pressing his forehead against yours as he let you go. "I know...but I can't help myself."

You leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Can you try to wait until after your performance?"

He turned away quickly. "I'll try."

You rolled your eyes. "That means you won't try at all."

He grinned. "I'm gonna make sure you enjoy yourself so much that you forget all about how awkward it was walking in here together."

"Oh god..." You shuddered at the thought. "I'd rather not do that."

"Aw, Y/N." He whined, looking away. "If you'd rather wait, we can always go somewhere else. Home, perhaps?"

You slapped his arm. "You can wait, Lee Jeno. A few hours of no sex, won't kill you. Besides, you'll get some attention from the fans tonight."

He snorted. "But they're not you...it won't be the same."

"Stop whining, baby. We've waited this long, what's another couple hours?"

"Ugh...fine." He sighed dramatically. "I'll wait."

"Good." You smiled, leaning in to kiss his cheek again. "Now, I need you to stop being so damn irresistible. You're making it difficult for me to say no."

You waved at the rest of the NCT Dream members and the staff as you and Jeno headed out the doors to your car. You were tired and worn out from the events of the day. All you wanted to do now was go home and crawl into bed. The past couple days had been exhausting, both mentally and physically. If it weren't for Jeno constantly distracting you, you probably would have collapsed in a heap somewhere.

You and Jeno rode in silence, but you couldn't help but notice his hand was inching closer to your knee every few seconds. Every time you moved it away from you, he only pulled it back to try again. If only you weren't the one driving, you wouldn't have minded his touching you in any way, shape or form. You noticed he finally stopped moving his hand after a while. Thank god because the nerves running through your body were getting too intense. It was hard to concentrate on the road when he kept moving his hand closer to you.

"When we get home, I'm locking you in the bedroom and you're never leaving it." You muttered, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Sounds good to me." He smirked, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms across his chest.

You sighed. "You're incorrigible, Lee Jeno."

"Whose fault is that?" He pouted.

You glared at him. "Don't start that shit."

He chuckled. "Did I start something?"

"Yup." You grinned evilly. "Incorrigible, indeed."

He licked his lips. "Am I wrong?"

You glared at him again. "I hate you."

"So sexy." He purred, closing his eyes as he leaned in closer to you. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to control myself when you're sitting there looking all sexy and stuff?"

You blushed as he rubbed your thigh gently.

"Fuck, you're killing me here." He growled, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. "Y/N..."

"Can you not pop a boner until we get home? Please?"

"I promise." He grinned devilishly, licking his lips. "As soon as we get inside though, you better not try to resist."

You rolled your eyes. "Why are you such a freak?"

"Don't hate the player, babe." He shrugged. "Just love the game."

"I can't believe you're taking that quote literally." You mumbled, shaking your head.

He snickered, pressing a soft kiss against your temple. "I'd love to hear you complain when you're enjoying it too much."

"Ew." You grimaced. "Now stop it so I can get us home, you little perv."

He groaned, releasing your leg from his grasp and shifting in his seat. "Fine...I'll behave."

"Good." You sighed.

After you parked the car, you grabbed your bag from the trunk. Jeno followed closely behind you, giving you curious looks every few steps. As you walked into your apartment, Jeno closed the door behind him.

"Hey! Where are you going?" Jeno called out as he watched you walk away from him.

"Shower first, you perv." You giggled, heading towards your bedroom. "Then we'll see."

You stepped into the bathroom, turning on the shower as you stripped off your clothes. After stepping into the steaming water, you relaxed and closed your eyes. You couldn't remember the last time you took a nice hot shower, usually showers for you consisted of quick rinses or soaking under the tap for several minutes. Not today though. Today you were indulging in a nice long shower, letting the hot water wash over your body and clear your mind.

Your eyes still closed, you felt a pair of strong hands pulling you back into the hot spray of water. They cupped your breasts and squeezed gently, massaging your nipples between their fingers. You gasped, arching your back as you pressed your body harder against them.

"Mmm...feels good doesn't it?" You heard a voice murmur against your ear.

"Hm..." You moaned, pressing your hips back against him.

"I told you I'd behave until we get home." Jeno said, chuckling softly as he pressed a kiss against your neck.

"I know." You replied, opening your eyes. "But you're still annoying."

"It's in my nature to annoy you." He responded.

"And it's in your nature to be obnoxious." You retorted.

He hummed against your skin, nuzzling his nose against your collarbone. "Have I ever told you that I love you?"

You froze for a brief second before nodding. "More than once."

He laughed against your skin, sending goosebumps over your body. "Do you love me too?"

"When do I not love you, you big goofball?" You laughed, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck.

"All the time." He kissed you deeply, sealing his lips to yours.

You sighed, pushing against him as you broke apart from his kiss. "Since we're both in the shower, naked and wet...why don't we take advantage of the situation?"

His eyes lit up and he kissed you deeply once again. "Only if you want to."

"Hmm..." You kissed him back, tasting the tangy taste of his mouth. "I think I do."

He released you from his kiss, resting his forehead against yours. "What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to keep rubbing my breasts." You whispered, tugging on his hair gently. "But I also want you to..."

"Yes?" He breathed against your lips.

"I want you to fuck me." You whispered.

"I've been wanting to fuck you since before my performance." He whispered back, kissing your neck once again.

"Good, because I've been dying to feel you inside of me." You sighed, biting your lip as he continued to massage your breast. "Make me feel that amazing cock of yours inside of me."

"Yes, ma'am." He whispered. "Give me permission and I'll fuck you right now."

"Please?" You asked, running your fingers through his wet hair. "I need you so bad, Lee Jeno."

He sucked your bottom lip into his mouth, nibbling on it gently. "God, you drive me crazy." He murmured against your skin. "How am I supposed to handle myself when you act like this?"

You smiled wickedly, tugging on his hair again. "Because you're strong enough to handle me."

"Why didn't you answer my phone calls last night?" Haechan questioned you the next morning as you both sat at the company's cafe waiting for your drinks.

"You called me last night?" You asked him, taking out your phone from your purse. "Oh shit, you did."

"Did you go cock-crazy because of Jeno, last night? Because that's the only thing that makes sense." Haechan teasingly asked you.

You rolled your eyes. "Why are you guys always so invested in our sex lives?"

"We're all living vicariously through Jeno since he's the only one getting pussy every night." Jaemin answered as he pulled a seat next to Haechan. "Now spill the beans. What happened last night?"

You covered your ears. "I can't hear you! This conversation is for my ears only!"

They both bursted into laughter as you continued covering your ears. Finally, you gave up and looked at each of them individually. "Shower sex...it was fucking fantastic."

"Of course it was fantastic." Jeno pulled out the seat next to you, leaning in and giving you a kiss on the cheek.

"Are we talking about Jeno and Y/N's sexcapades again?" Renjun huffed, placing his order at the counter. "Damn boy, she got you wrapped around her fingers."

"Come on, Renjun. Just because I bang my girlfriend every night, it doesn't mean you can't get some too." Jeno argued. "Besides, I'm a generous lover."

"How generous?" Haechan tilted his head curiously.

"Well..." Jeno leaned in and winked at you. "A little from column A, a little from column B."

The other boys started laughing loudly, making you cover your ears again.

"I hate you all." You groaned.

"No, you love us." Jaemin laughed. "Look, we just want you to be happy. We love seeing you and Jeno together, it's nice seeing the two of you actually dating instead of hooking up."

You exhaled slowly, lowering your hands from your ears. "Okay, that was unexpected. Who are you and what have you done to Jaemin?"

Jaemin raised an eyebrow at you. "Would you rather me say I turned into Batman overnight?"

"Maybe." You laughed. "Though if I saw you walking down the street dressed like him, I might punch you."

"Ouch, but true." He shook his head, smiling. "Anyway, back to my point. I just want you to be happy. So if being with Jeno makes you happy, then so be it."

You nodded slowly, grabbing your drink from the counter. "Thank you, Jaemin."

"Of course." He nodded. "Anytime."

Jeno grabbed your hand as you stood up to leave, intertwining your fingers with his. You smiled and pulled him along after you as you left the cafe. The air outside was cool and refreshing compared to the humid air within the building. It felt wonderful to let your skin breathe again, feeling completely free and not restrained by anything.

"You know, you could just stay inside with me." Jeno suggested, pulling you towards the car.

"And do what, my big hunk of man meat?" You teased him, wrapping your arm around his waist.

"You know exactly what I would do to you." He smirked, winking.

You blushed as he unlocked the car and opened the passenger side door for you. "See, this is why I have to keep you away from my pussy."

He laughed as he shut the door, following you into the vehicle. "If you really wanted to, you could convince me to keep you away from my dick. All you have to do is ask nicely."

"Uh huh, and what would I have to do to you, to make you agree to my request?" You smiled innocently.

"You have to tell me you love me." He smirked, looking at you over his shoulder.

"I love you, you idiot." You laughed, leaning across the center console to plant a kiss on his cheek.

"Babe, do you even know how adorable you look right now?" He chuckled. "You're seriously just the cutest thing ever."

"What are you doing later?" You turned to face him as he started the car, switching the music from the radio station playing to one playing on his phone.

"Nothing, why?" He glanced at you.

"So, you're free tonight?" You asked, grabbing onto his arm tightly.

"Yeah, why?" He questioned.

"Well, there's something I wanna show you." You grinned.

"Oohh, what is it?" He narrowed his eyes, giving you an inquisitive look.

"I think you're gonna like it." You mumbled, keeping your face close to his.

"Mmmm, what if I don't?" He teased, causing you to laugh softly.

"You're such a baby." You laughed. "Just wait and see, okay?"

"Fine, fine. Whatever you want, baby." He sighed, turning on the road.

Jeno dropped you off at the mall since you told him that you wanted to do some shopping. He promised to pick you up in a few hours, so you wandered from store to store, browsing the different options and thinking about what to buy. At first you weren't sure if you should just give in and buy things but when you wandered into the lingerie store, your decision was made for you.

You didn't know what would stir those loins of your boyfriend since he practically loved seeing you in everything. You couldn't resist the temptation, picking up a cute black lace bra and matching panties. You smiled as you thought about what Jeno would think when he found out.

By the time you had walked to almost every clothing store in the mall, you were exhausted. Your legs were sore from walking so much and you needed to sit down for a while. Looking around the mall for somewhere to sit, you noticed a quiet corner near a small cafe. Grabbing your things, you headed towards it, passing by some pretty girls in short skirts and high heels. They seemed very eager to try on new clothes or shoes.

Finally finding a spot to sit down, you placed your bag and jacket down beside you, leaning back against the chair and closing your eyes. You took a deep breath and instantly smelled your boyfriend's cologne. That made you smile as you relaxed, remembering the past few nights spent with him. Your mind drifted to the thought of what you'd do to him later that evening.

"Ready to go, sweetheart?" Jeno asked, breaking your train of thought.

"Sure, let's go." You yawned, standing up from the chair.

Jeno helped you carry your bags out of the mall, stopping at a restaurant on the way home. After eating dinner, he helped you carry the bags upstairs, putting them down on the floor before sitting on the edge of the bed, holding your hands in his.

"Is everything okay?" You wondered. "You seem kind of stressed out today."

"Just tired, babe." He mumbled, leaning in to press a soft kiss on your forehead. "Mark has us practicing this new routine we're working on. It's been a long day."

"Do I have to fight Mark and the rest of the guys for torturing my handsome Jeno?" You giggled, biting your lower lip.

"Only if you really want to." He laughed, shaking his head. "I'd like to see my girlfriend beat up my members."

"That would be fun." You nodded, tracing his nose with your finger.

"Yeah, I'm sure it would." He smirked, bringing your hand up to his lips and kissing it. "It's good to finally relax though. How was your shopping trip?"

"Fun, exciting." You hummed, leaning forward and kissing his lips.

"Oh really?" He questioned, cupping your face in his hands. "Do tell me more about your exciting adventure."

"Maybe later." You playfully swatted his arm. "Why don't you go watch some TV or something while I take a bath?"

"Alright, babe." He kissed your cheek, sliding off the bed and leaving the room.

As soon as he closed the bedroom door behind him, you went straight for your bags and pulled out the new lingerie set you bought earlier. Glancing at yourself in the mirror, you smiled as you thought about how much your boyfriend will enjoy seeing you in it. You carefully put on the bra and panties, standing in front of the mirror, admiring yourself. You threw on one of your large t-shirts and shorts, masking the sexy underwear underneath. Once you finished getting ready, you made your way downstairs to join Jeno.

You snuggled next to him on the couch, curling your body against his. He shifted so that you were laying down with your head resting on his chest, which made you giggle lightly. You looked over at him and he was already watching some dumb reality show on TV.

"Hey, handsome." You murmured, nuzzling into his shirt.

"Why hello there, beautiful." He said softly, running his fingers through your hair. "Didn't expect you to join me so quickly."

"Can I help it if I love you too much?" You teased him, making him chuckle.

"You're impossible." He said with a sigh. "Why do you always have to make me lose my concentration?"

"Don't worry, handsome. You won't be losing your concentration any time soon." You cooed, nibbling on his ear.

"Who says?" He purred, pressing kisses against your neck.

"This goddess here." You answered, straddling his waist and reaching for his hands to reach under your shirt.

"Oh? What's this?" He questioned, removing your shirt and dropping it to the ground. His fingers traced the hem of your new bra, running his thumb over the lacy cups. Your nipples hardened slightly from the light contact and you shivered slightly, arching your back slightly. He trailed his hands down your sides, dipping them into your shorts. "What else do you have hidden? Or maybe you want me to find it?"

"Mmm, well-" You stuttered, catching your breath as he touched your clit through your panties. "-you may not be able to see it, but I do indeed have something special for you."

"Hmm, and what might that be?" He ran his hands back up your stomach, stopping to pull down your shorts. His breath hitched, noticing the matching bra and panties that you wore. "Is this new? Did you buy these specifically for me?"

"Yes." You moaned, burying your face in his chest. "I hope you like them."

"I love them." He breathed, capturing your mouth with his. "But you look irresistible no matter what you wear. You always do, though."

"Well, thank you." You laughed.

"As much as I love seeing you in your new lingerie," he smirked, moving his hand down between your legs, "I'm more interested in seeing you naked."

"How can I refuse such a request?" You winked, pushing his hand further down until his fingers brushed against your dripping wet pussy.

His fingers slid against your folds, eliciting a loud moan from you. Slowly stroking his fingers over your clit, he kept you in suspense, driving you crazy with lust. Every movement of his fingers sent electric currents through your body, bringing forth pleasure.

You reach behind you to unclasp your bra, letting the fabric fall to the ground. As soon as the straps loosened, your breasts sprung free, jiggling lightly as you squirmed against him.

"Look at you." He groaned, sucking on your left nipple, gently flicking it with his tongue. "Such a fucking goddess. Is this all for me?"

"Only for you, Jeno." You answered, biting your lower lip. "Please use me however you wish."

"God damn, I love you." He growled, rubbing his face along your breasts. "Let me taste you, beautiful."

He wrapped his lips around your nipple and began sucking hungrily. He moved his other hand between your legs, caressing your wet slit. Slowly sliding two fingers inside of you, he rubbed his thumb over your clit, intensifying the pleasure. When he heard your moaning, he bit down on your breast harder, applying more pressure.

You didn't realize how sensitive your nipples were until he began sucking them, pulling and twisting them with each suck. You held his head closer, grinding against his hand as his fingers continued pleasuring you. When you felt your orgasm building, you cried out his name, feeling the waves crashing over you.

"Jesus fuck, baby." He moaned, continuing to stimulate you as you came.

Once you calmed down, you leaned forward, planting soft kisses across his neck.

"Are you okay?" He questioned, wrapping his arms around you.

"I've never been better." You replied, looking into his eyes. "Now please get that big cock of yours ready."

"God, baby, I love how dirty you are." He chuckled, teasingly playing with your hair. "It makes me hard just imagining what I could do to you right now."

"Mmm, I could think of a couple of things myself." You whispered, raising your hips, placing his dick at the entrance of your tight cunt.

He entered you slowly, watching as your inner muscles contracted around him. As soon as he was completely inside of you, he leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on your lips.

"Mmmm, sweetheart, you feel so good." He whispered, pulling back slightly to thrust deeper.

Each time he pushed himself into you, you moaned loudly.

"Goddamn, your pussy feels amazing." He groaned, continuing to pump in and out of you. "You feel so tight around me."

He buried his face in your neck, breathing deeply, feeling each stroke of his dick deep within you. In and out he fucked you, bringing you higher and higher with each thrust. Every movement made you feel warm all over. Every inch of you ached for more.

With each pump, you began moaning louder, louder, begging for more. Every single touch of his body made you tremble with excitement. The intense sensations shooting through your body turned you on even more. He could have done anything to you right then and you wouldn't have cared. All you wanted was for him to keep touching you. You could hardly contain your desire to touch him as well.

As you neared another orgasm, you reached up and grabbed his shoulders tightly, digging your nails into his skin. This only caused him to thrust faster, making your orgasm hit harder than ever.

You could barely breathe as the waves washed over you. Your whole body shook uncontrollably. Each thrust he made only intensified your pleasure. Eventually, he came inside of you, causing a surge of pleasure to shoot throughout your entire body. You could feel the release inside of you as he held you tight against his chest.

When you finally came down, you panted heavily, your breathing erratic. Finally coming back to earth, you opened your eyes and saw Jeno staring at you. He had a devilish grin on his face and it caused your heart to skip a beat.

"My god, you're incredible." He whispered, still thrusting his dick inside of you.

"You're insatiable." You gasped, closing your eyes and gripping his arms tighter.

"Never enough." He groaned, leaning in and kissing you passionately. "You drive me wild."

Your lips parted slightly, inviting his tongue to enter your mouth. Sensing your hesitance, he slowed down his pace, not wanting to hurt you after having such a powerful orgasm. Once you relaxed, he picked up speed again, pumping in and out of you, savoring every moment.

"Again?" You gasped, trying to catch your breath. "Let me recover first. Please."

"Nonsense, beautiful." He grinned, bringing his lips back to yours. "There is nothing wrong with going twice in one night."

"Fuck you and your crazy stamina." You sighed, smiling at him, giving him a quick peck on the lips before rolling over onto your back.

You watched as he crawled on top of you, pulling you towards him. Wrapping his arms around you, he stared deeply into your eyes. You brought your hands up to his face, gently running your fingers through his soft hair.

"Jeno..." You whispered, tracing his lips with your fingers. "Thank you."

"For what?" He questioned, kissing your forehead.

"For everything." You answered, holding him close.

"Anything for you, beautiful." He answered, kissing your lips again. "You deserve everything wonderful in life."

"Oh really? What if I want more?" You asked, causing him to laugh.

"Babe, there's nothing that you could possibly ask for that I would deny you." He promised, lowering his lips to yours once more.

"Good, because I have a few ideas." You whispered, running your hands over his back. "I'll let you know when they come to me."

"Sounds like a plan." He answered, lifting off of you. "In the meantime, let's go to bed so I can keep loving you."

You let out a gasp as he lifted you from the couch and made his way to the bedroom. Within minutes, he had you lying in the middle of the bed, while he climbed in beside you.

"Okay, if you're going to take advantage of me while I'm half asleep, I'll wake up and slap your ass." You mumbled, causing him to laugh.

"Haha, sounds like a deal to me." He answered, laying on his side and wrapping an arm around you. He pulled you close, kissing your cheek and eventually your lips.

After some time passed, you fell asleep in his arms.

[merwgue]

Rhysand is often portrayed as this perfect, morally grey ruler, but when you take a closer look at his actions, it's obvious how messed up he really is. Let’s break down the so-called “benevolent” High Lord of the Night Court.

1. The Hewn City – The King of Torture? Rhysand's treatment of the people in Hewn City is straight-up barbaric. The way he holds power over them isn’t out of necessity or to “protect” them from worse rulers—it’s control through fear and violence. He tortures them, plays with their lives, and enjoys maintaining his iron grip on them. It's almost like he uses them as his personal stress toys. Is that really the hallmark of a just ruler? Sure, Hewn City isn’t full of saints, but for Rhys to stand on his high horse and act like he's saving everyone while still torturing his subjects? Hypocrisy at its finest.

2. Rhysand and Feyre – Let’s Talk About Consent Let’s not forget that he literally assaulted Feyre Under the Mountain. I don’t care how anyone tries to frame it as him “saving her” from Amarantha—there’s no excuse for the way he took away her agency. Rhys manipulated her, forced her into wearing those skimpy outfits, and paraded her around for his entertainment. All while pretending it was for the greater good. It's pretty damn disgusting how that gets brushed under the rug like it was some noble sacrifice when in reality, he robbed Feyre of her choices.

3. Planning to Execute Nesta – The Line Between Justice and Control Rhysand and his inner circle legit planned to execute Nesta, all because she didn’t fall in line. Nesta had her faults—hell, a lot of them—but threatening her life because she didn't act the way Rhys wanted? That's not justice; that's manipulation and control at its core. He wasn't trying to protect anyone. He was pissed that he couldn't control her, that she wasn't another cog in his perfect little machine of Night Court harmony.

4. Tamlin – Kicking a Man While He’s Down Say what you will about Tamlin, but there’s no denying that Rhysand completely overstepped every boundary when it came to him. The Night Court loves to preach about freedom, but Rhys had no problem strutting into Tamlin’s land, throwing it in his face, and making an already broken man feel like utter shit. There’s a difference between defending your own and downright antagonizing someone who’s in the depths of depression. At one point, he basically told Tamlin to end his own life. What kind of "savior" talks like that to someone who's clearly struggling? It's downright cruel.

5. The Night Court – A Dictatorship Wrapped in Pretty Words Rhysand's Night Court is sold to everyone as this place of freedom, where people can be who they truly are—but at what cost? If you cross Rhys or don’t fall in line with his vision, you either face his wrath, his torture, or his manipulation. He's not running a court; he's running a dictatorship where everything is fine as long as it aligns with his master plan. The fact that he keeps calling himself the “most powerful High Lord in history” just feeds into that massive god complex he has. The ego on this guy is unbelievable.

6. Double Standards – The Morality of Convenience Rhys preaches about freedom and respect, but he only seems to extend that to people he deems worthy. If you’re in his circle or someone he cares about, great—you get all the privileges. If not? Well, tough luck. He’ll trample over your land, threaten your life, or torture you into submission. The cherry on top? Everyone around him acts like he’s the greatest thing to happen to Prythian, and the fandom just eats it up.

So, yeah. Rhysand is fucked up. He’s not just morally grey—he’s power-hungry, manipulative, and borderline sadistic. His version of “ruling” the Night Court is as hypocritical as it gets. Benevolent High Lord? More like the king of self-righteous cruelty.

7. Locking Up Nesta – Rhysand’s Tamlin Moment Remember how everyone vilified Tamlin for locking Feyre up “for her own safety”? Sure, it was messed up, but the narrative painted him as this controlling, possessive villain because of it. Now, fast forward to Rhysand, who literally does the same thing to Nesta. She’s spiraling, yes, but instead of finding her real help or giving her space to heal, he decides to trap her in the House of Wind like a damn prisoner. He takes away her freedom, isolates her from the outside world, and forces her into a situation she clearly doesn’t want. How is that any different from what Tamlin did?

But here’s the kicker: Rhysand gets praised for it. Why? Because he’s Rhysand, the supposed hero, and everything he does is always “for the greater good,” right? It’s utter bullshit. He used the same controlling tactics on Nesta that Tamlin used on Feyre, but the fandom acts like he was being this saintly, tough-love older brother. What he did was textbook manipulation, stripping away Nesta’s autonomy because she didn’t fit into his perfect vision of what recovery should look like.

8. Forcing Recovery on Nesta – Ignoring Trauma Let’s not sugarcoat this: Rhysand locked up a woman who was using drinking as a coping mechanism and basically said, “Tough luck, you’re staying here until you fix yourself.” That's not helping; that’s punishing someone for their trauma. Nesta was in pain, lashing out and struggling to deal with what happened to her. Did she need help? Absolutely. But instead of offering her real emotional support, Rhys just forced her into a recovery program that suited his standards and timeline, not hers.

What makes this even worse is that Nesta was self-harming through drinking, and instead of addressing the root cause of her pain, Rhysand and his inner circle chose to control her like she was a problem that needed to be fixed, not a person who needed to be understood. There’s nothing noble about that.

9. Rhysand’s Hypocrisy – Tamlin vs. Himself This is where Rhysand’s hypocrisy really shines. He condemned Tamlin for being controlling, and Feyre (rightfully) left that toxic environment. But Rhys turns around and does the same thing to Nesta, and instead of being held accountable for it, he gets celebrated for “taking action.” How does that even make sense? It's such a double standard that it's almost laughable. Tamlin’s actions were wrong, but Rhysand’s were just as bad, if not worse, because he knew better. He knew what it felt like to be controlled, yet he did it anyway.

10. Stop Giving Rhys a Pass People need to stop giving Rhysand a pass for his behavior. He gets away with literal torture, manipulation, locking people up, and trampling over others' boundaries because he’s good at hiding it behind the facade of “protecting his court.” He’s not the hero people make him out to be. He’s just as flawed and fucked up as the people he claims to be better than.

At the end of the day, locking someone up—whether it’s Feyre in the Spring Court or Nesta in the House of Wind—is a violation of their autonomy. Rhysand isn't some hero swooping in to save the day. He's a controlling ruler who just happens to be good at spinning the narrative in his favor.

[rubyclover]

Today's daydream was

Adam escapes death and disguises himself as a Sinner. He fumbles his way into opening up a hole-in-the-wall restaurant that specializes in ribs. It also only serves hellborn. Why? Because Adam hates Sinners and doesn't want to attract the Hotel's attention so why would he let them in?

Problem is he's literally the only business in Pentagram City that does this. So his little restraunt gets plastered all over Sinstagram which gets Angel Dust's attention. That food doesn't look half bad while hung over damn it! And he convinces the rest of the hotel gang they need to try some.

Lucifer says he’ll get the food for his darling daughter and pops on down to Adam's Rib (our boi doesn't care how obvious that name is). The owner should be more than happy to give him free food cause he's the King. One of the only perks to the job! Unlucky for him Adam is more pissed than scared and unleashes an unholy tirade on Lucifer for disrespecting his rules! As the rant goes on Lucifer slowly turns more demonic as a threat but this Sinner couldn’t give a flying fuck.

*The Devil gets the food anyways.*

Now Adam's little hole in the wall has even MORE undesirable attention, please see the Vs. He can't catch a break at all. All he wanted was a cover story while he finds a way to contact Heaven.

The Devil is intrigued by this ratchet ass Sinner that looks and sounds familiar, so much so that it turns into an obsession. This means Adam has a harder time moving around secretly because the clown fucker keeps showing up unexpectedly. It’s only after the smaller man brutally kills Sinners trying to rob Adam’s Rib that the First Man realize he may be literally and figuratively ‘fucked.’

Adam tried to watch as the three Sinners were brutalized but his vision was too poor in the dark. The damned temporary transformation had dulled his angelic senses. But Adam could feel Lucifer’s eyes on him even though the screams continued. He was eye fucking him while taking out the trash! Creep! But a warmth was spreading in the pit of his stomach.

No Adam! Remember everything he’s done to you! Lilith! Eve! The apple! The garden! Cain! We’re not falling for this shit again…

‘It’s all right now Steve’ the devil’s hushed voice tickled Adam’s nerves in the dark. ‘Be. not. afraid.’ Long forked tongue dragged along the shell of his ear.

WAIT! OH FUCK! HIS EAR -

Sinners don’t have human ears.

Lucifer’s eyes widen and goes quiet. The first man tenses up for another fight of his life but the transfiguration spell is still in place. He has to get it off and fast. How is he going to do that with Lucifer near his neck?!

A deep purring chirp starts up against his back. Multiple detached arms slowly appear out of the dark and latch onto Adam. Some hands go to uh, interesting places. He has to bit his lip to not make a sound.

‘Ah. Found you.’

[luveline]

OK THE STEVE ZOMBIE AU BUT HE DOES FINALLY MIRACULOUSLY FIND ROBIN OR MAYBE DUSTIN OR LITERALLY ANYONE FAMILIAR. Our girl is happy but also like 👀 u finna ditch me now?

theres literally no zombies in this lmao </3 apocalypse au with new (but not really) boyfriend steve wherein you reunite with some old friends and find a community (and worry steve is gonna break up w u) fem!reader 7k words

The border between Indiana and Michigan is quiet. Nothing denotes its location besides a Welcome to Indiana sign. 

Steve's hand tightens around yours. You stand there for minutes, wind breezing past your tired bodies and ruffling his limp hair. 

"Do you think this is our last time seeing Indiana?" you ask quietly. 

There's no need to shout. The town surrounding the border is abandoned. 

He drops your hand. You miss his touch and the soothing effect it gives to hold it immediately. 

"Maybe," he says. "Does that bother you?" 

It fucking scares you. Staying there wasn't really an option anymore, not with the infestation of geeks dribbling away from Indianapolis or the lack of food. And besides that, you'd wanted to get to Michigan badly. Steve and his friend Robin had been planning to come here together before their untimely separation. Half of Hawkins had been aiming for Michigan after the news broke all those months ago — Illinois, Ohio, and Kentucky overrun by flesh-eating monsters. 

But if you leave Indiana, you're admitting it's a lost cause. That the lives you led there are gone, candles snuffed out by a sudden ripping gale. 

"I just…" You look over your shoulder at Michigan. "Can't believe we're here." 

"I think I'm glad we're here." 

You cock your head toward him. 

"Not just to find Robin," he clarifies. "But, no offence? Indiana was kicking your ass." 

You grimace at his implication. Indiana was kicking your ass. You've rolled your ankle more times than you can count. You'd fallen ten feet through the floor and given yourself a major concussion. You've been snarled at, robbed at knifepoint, and almost eaten. 

"Fucking Indiana," you say. 

"Fuck Indiana." He turns on his heel, but not before he's wrapped a hand around your arm to drag you with him. "Michigan better be nice to my girl, or we're going to Canada." 

You've already let him walk you a couple of feet when you have the bearings to splutter, "Your girl?" 

He ignores you, the smallest hint of a smile playing on his lips. You’re pretty confident in being his girlfriend, but something about being ‘his girl’ makes your head rush.

You'd found a gun a little ways back but no ammunition for it. It's a good prop regardless, so Steve keeps it in hand stuffed into the pocket of his windbreaker ready to scare off anyone with enough wits to find guns scary. You're sitting ducks otherwise, armed with one small penknife and the metal baseball bat that Steve keeps in the strap of his rucksack, so you stick to the side roads. Being out in the open is risky. You're used to this mode of living, adept at slinking and skulking in dimly dark places. 

"Steve?" you ask, a murmur in the ringing quiet. Cicadas chirp in the trees, leaves rustling with each burst of wind. 

"Yeah?" he asks shortly, distracted by the door in front of him. 

He's attempting to pick the lock of a convenience store's sidedoor. You're standing guard.

"Where do you think Robin is?" 

He doesn't answer for a while. He works a delicate job, the slim pick in his hand creaking formidably with every wrong move. He's too forceful, and you're the better locksmith, but your wrist still twinges from your fall in the woods a few days ago. Steve's too protective for his own good. 

"I don't know. But she's smart, and-" He hisses, hair falling into his eyes. "I'm hoping she's still here." 

"If I were her, I'd wait for you." 

He tips his head back to meet your eyes. "If you ever stay somewhere dangerous waiting for me, I'll fist fight you." 

Usually you'd burst into laughter at his familiar abrupt absurdity — you've grown to adore his jokes now that you know there's no real malice behind them — but you want him to hear what you're saying. You want to know if he'd do the same. 

"I would," you say softly. 

The lock clicks open. 

Steve grins at you. "You won't need to. You're stuck with me like glue." 

Inside of the store is a sorry sight. While the shutters had been down, a good sign, the interior is much less promising. Sunshine filters in through the smallest cracks, casting a scarce light over what's left of the aisles. Two are crushed to one side as if a huge hand has swept them away. Smashed booze bottles litter the floor. Glass like snow crunches underfoot, and a sticky sour smell is heavy in the air. 

You ease into the room on pins. 

"There's gotta be something," Steve says, pulling his pocket-sized torch out to give you a better view. 

Where the shelves have collapsed, there's a small tunnel to the front of the room. You bend down to assess it. 

"I think there's cookies over there." 

"Where?" Steve demands. You point to aforementioned treats.

He army crawls through the gap and pops out on the other side. Those few seconds where you can't see him are unsettling, and from the speed with which he looks at you, he may have felt the same. 

"Keep an eye out," he says. 

You turn to the door. You've closed it tight but it won't lock without a key, and anyone might assume what you have and come inside. 

Steve hisses an excited, "Yes!" 

"How'm I s'posed to keep watch when you're doing that?" 

"Babe, there's fucking Chips Ahoy." He loves them.

"I'm sick of Chips Ahoy," you mumble to yourself. "I miss carrots. And potatoes. I miss pasta. Pasta." 

"Should I be jealous?" 

"Definitely. I'd trade you for a full, home-cooked meal any day, handsome. Fresh made pasta, sun dried tomatoes. Garlic bread." You could cry thinking about it, all those rich flavours together. 

"Call me crazy, but I think we could make you some pasta. Look-" He holds up a small jar. "Crushed garlic." 

You brighten. "Where'd you find that?" 

Garlic is a great flavour to make literally anything taste better, like all the canned stuff people don't always take: artichoke hearts, asparagus, aubergine. 

"Holy shit, score.” Steve holds another tin up, torch held between his chest and his upper arm. 

Your eyes turn round as saucers. 

That night, you decide to stay in the convenience store. You'll be cornered if somebody tries to get in, but you'll be safe from geeks and the elements. Two out of three isn't bad. 

You and Steve share the only fork, chowing down on his amazing find of tinned vegetable soup and dumplings. It barely registers in your head that it's cold, it's so nice to be eating something that isn't spaghettios. You could've built a fire outside to warm it if you weren't scared of being spotted by scroungers. Or worse, cannibals. 

"Maybe we should go outside. Look for smoke," you say. Smoke means people.

"Good idea.” He urges you to take what's left of the soup, stands, and kisses the top of your head as he does.

You're pretty sure there's bliss like the light of a star radiating off of your skin, elated at his easy affection. You're almost as happy to get to finish the soup. 

While he's gone, you open your bag and scrounge for what little self-care you have. Toothpaste is abundant in every store no matter how looted, as is soap, but soap needs water, and you're running low. You brush your teeth with toothpaste alone and use a little bit of water on a rag to wipe the oil off of your face, guilty and thankful at once. If you don't wash yourself when you can, you'll go crazy. 

You apply another layer of roll on old spice and hope it'll hold out until you can find another lake, river, or tributary, which shouldn't be impossible. Michigan is surrounded by water, a fact that had put you off coming here at first. 

You go where Steve goes, though, so Michigan it had been, and Michigan it is. 

Your first night’s already proved fruitful. There's more than enough food here if you're willing to get weird (and you and Steve usually are). More food than you could carry. 

Which is a little suspicious, now that you think about it. 

Nobody thought to look here? 

Is there anybody to look? 

You push all your stuff aside and scramble onto your knees, suddenly paranoid. Steve's taking too long, what if this place is a trap? A honeytrap to lure in mindless ants. What if they've already grabbed him, and– 

"Oh, Jesus," Steve says as he opens the door, voice uber loud in the night time stillness. "You scared me. What's the matter, need to pee?" 

"I thought somebody kidnapped you," you say, trying for joking and missing by a mile. 

Steve leans against the door. He's regained his controlled volume and demeanour, "Safe and sound. I'm serious, do you need to pee?" 

You and Steve pad out your corner of the store against the pilfered chip aisle. He lets you use his chest as a pillow, and when he turns off the torch there's nothing to do but listen to his breathing and feel his chest move under your ear. 

You rub his sternum with the heel of your hand. "You could use me as a pillow sometime. If you wanted to." 

"Yeah? You're softer than me, I think I'd love that." 

You draw a short line to his navel, thinking. Lucky to have found him. Lucky to like him this much, and lucky that he likes you. You're 'his girl', and you get to sleep on his chest and sometimes when he's not worrying himself to the bone he'll tell you secrets. You know him better than you’ve ever known anybody.

He curls his arm around your shoulder and takes your upper arm into his hand, the heat from his fingers seeping into your skin. You've taken off your coat because it's uncomfortable. Steve will fold it over your chest when you fall asleep. 

"It was a good day, right?" He sounds terrified of jinxing it. 

You kiss his chest, or his t-shirt, so lightly he likely doesn't feel it. A kiss for your sake rather than his. "It was a good day." 

He holds you close. His heart thrums in your head. 

"Floor's like a fucking ice cube," he mutters. 

You cover as much of him as you can with your arms, sleep tugging at your eyelids. "I'll keep you warm," you promise as they close. "Wake me up when you get too tired." 

"Alright." He massages your arm in his hand gently, and you fall asleep. 

—

Steve flinches awake at the whisper of a sound outside. A younger Steve, one who'd known nothing about geeks, or people, really, how awful they can be, wouldn't have woken. Hell, Steve could've slept through a hurricane when he was in high school, all those years where he'd stayed up too late playing hooky and smoking Malboro's behind the Big Buy. He looks back now and wonders how much sleep he missed out on in his king-sized mattress, up to his eyeballs in cushy sheets and fresh linens. Why had sleeping felt like such a chore? 

And after that, when he and Robin would stay up watching shitty movies and eating the free stale popcorn from the video store. Though he wouldn't trade any of that away. 

Fucking idiot, he thinks to himself scathingly. He was not supposed to fall asleep. He checks you over quickly. In your sleep you've slid off of his chest and onto the tarp next to him, but you’re unharmed.

He sits up and scrambles for his penknife. Weak dusk light breaks through the store's shutters, dust motes disturbed by his movements diving between rays of light like lightning bugs. His joints click with the force and speed with which he springs up to protect you. 

What sound was that? It had come as loud as a crack of thunder, but could've been something small, a squirrel over a tree branch. 

He should wake you up. If it's one person, even two, you could help him. But if it's more, and they find you… 

He shoulders open the door and walks out into the morning light. 

— 

You wake to hands on your shoulders. 

You're scared instantly. Steve usually wakes you reluctantly, a shake and a whispered, "Up," or, "Up, baby," if he's especially tired. 

"It's me," he says, his voice burning with something you haven't ever heard before. "It's me. Time to wake up." 

You peel your eyes open, horrified at the sight above you. Steve face hovers over your own with his hair tucked behind his ears and a blazing smile, daylight behind him haloing him in gold. 

"You didn't wake me." You bring clumsy hands to his rough cheeks. "Why didn't you wake me? You look so tired." 

He looks electrified, the bags under his eyes no match for his smile. You can feel it as he leans down, as he plants a kiss firmly to your unsuspecting mouth. He kisses you all over, a joyous chuckle bubbling out between them. 

You laugh yourself, tickled as his stubble scratches your cheeks, your neck as he works his way down. 

"There's- There's people," he says. "My people. Fucking Robin-" 

"What?" 

You're a half inch from headbutting him unconscious. Luckily he's already veering upward, stuffing what you'd left on the ground back into your packs. 

"I haven't seen her yet, but there's this other girl we went to school with, Darcy Mulligan, and she said this is an outpost, right? They keep all this shit here for people who need it, and then they watch to see if you're dangerous-" 

"They were watching us?" 

He plows onward, ignoring you, "And they saw us and I went out thinking they were gonna shoot me but-" 

"Steve, we can't go with these people." 

His smile fades a little. "No, we aren't. I told them already, we aren't that stupid. But," — he grabs your arm — "they said they're gonna bring Robin." 

You don't want to keep fighting him. To shoot down this newfound hope, this lightness you've never seen him shine with before, feels cruel. But you don't want him to get ahead of himself. 

"What if they're bringing back reinforcements?" 

He swallows and nods, reassuring your conjectures. "Right, I thought that too, but- I don't know, baby, Darcy was with a guy, and they both had guns. They could've shot me. 'N' if they were empty, the guy could've just knocked me over the head with it, you know?" He crawls impossibly closer than he'd been, hands rubbing your arm unthinking. "I think this is real." 

I want it to be real goes unsaid. 

You're ashamed that you can't find any excitement to wear with him. Dread licks over your skin as you smile at him, as you cup his cheek in your hand, and as you stand up to help him pack away his things. You feel like you're going to your death. 

Steve can read you well. He grabs your shoulders. You're selfishly hoping he'll say you can run. He doesn't. "You trust me?" he asks. 

You deflate, shoulders falling. "Of course I do." 

"Thank you." He tries to pull you in for a hug but you're reeling, distracted, he has to persuade you, and he does so sweetly. "Hey, c'mere, come on." He pulls at you. "Come here." 

You flop into his chest with all the grace of a shored fish, arms limp. He smells like sweat which probably means you do too, but he smells like himself, and that's what's important. 

"Nothing bad is going to happen to you." 

"What about you?" 

"If Robin's here, I have to take the risk. She's my best friend." 

You understand that. You'd never ask him not to do this, because you'd do it for him. If you'd ever gotten separated, you'd spend months looking for him. Years, maybe. He's the only person left. 

You have no clue if he'd do the same for you.

He scrubs at your back roughly. Such a boyish kind of hug. 

"You have your knife?" he asks. 

You have it. Rather than let them corner you in here, you both make your way out into the woods. Steve shows you the short path he'd taken to find Darcy Mulligan and the man she'd been with, evidence of their stakeout left in the embers of a small fire. You stand frozen with a tree trunk to your back and Steve stations himself in front of you, pack secured on your back. Steve has his baseball bat in hand. What good will it serve against a possible group of gunmen? You start to panic, really panic, and you're a hair's width from begging him to run with you when his grip on the bat falters. 

"Fuck," he says softly. 

Three people turn the corner; a dark haired girl with twin pigtails and a rifle hanging at her side; a boy, presumably the man Steve had mentioned; and a shorter girl with light brown hair, her expression — her entire body — lit with happiness, elation, and her laugh loud enough to prove it. 

"Holy shit," Steve says. 

You forget to be scared. You forget to worry. Steve lets the baseball bat drop out of his hand, and then he's taking three weak steps forward to meet her, and that's it, it's her, Robin throws her arms around his neck and nearly barrels him to the ground. His hands come up to meet her. He's shaking so hard you're surprised he can grip her waist, his face crushed to the side of her head. 

Tears well in your eyes. To get to see this, so soon, when you'd thought maybe Steve might never see his best friend ever again, is a blessing. It's a fucking miracle. 

Your tears bite back when the boy moves forward and hugs him too. 

You tighten your grip on your knife and pull it from your pocket, confused and alarmed that Steve's about to get gutted, but Steve starts to shake worse. 

It takes you a second to realise he's crying. 

"Henderson," he says. 

Oh. It's Dustin. You've heard enough stories about him to know it. He has the same curly hair, and while he's taller than you'd thought, Steve had only ever talked about one Henderson. 

Steve's relief is a knot in your throat. You wipe your cheek quickly with the back of your hand and shove the knife into your pocket. 

Over their heads, the dark haired girl narrows her eyes at you. 

"I can't believe you're here," Steve says, voice raspy with emotion. 

You have never heard him cry. 

"Where have you been, Steve?" Robin asks hoarsely. 

You take a step toward him without thinking, and he hears it despite everything and looks up at you with a teary-eyed smile. 

"We got lost," he says, holding your gaze. 

"Lost? It's been months. We thought you were zombie mulch, you shithead." 

"I'm here, aren't I?" He rolls his eyes at you, like he's saying Get a load of this guy? 

It's a reassuring gesture even if he doesn't mean for it to be. You're still a team. 

"Hi," Robin says, her hands clasped in Steve's shirt, but her attention fully yours. "I'm Robin." 

You don't have a chance to introduce yourself. Steve does it for you, and he says, "She's my girl. Saved me this entire time." 

What the fuck does that mean?

Robin looks at you again. "No fucking way." 

"Only took an apocalypse for Steve to get a girlfriend," Dustin says. 

There's something about their playful arguing that makes you want to cry again. It's the relief they've padded it with. You can imagine how brilliant it must feel to make fun of somebody you'd thought long dead. 

"Don't worry, Y/N," Robin says gravely, "there are tons of dudes at camp. You have options." 

Steve steps on her foot. 

"We should head back," Darcy says shortly. 

On the walk, Steve feels very far away. He keeps looking at you to check you're there, but his thoughts are months ago, recounting the details of your survival to his friends in short. You and Steve had been together since basically the very start when you'd saved him from a horde, and he tells that with pride. So much so you feel heat blooming behind your neck and at the tips of your ears. 

"We fucking floored to to the meeting point but you guys weren't there-" 

"Sorry-" 

"No, it's okay," he says. "I get it. It was rough." All of you shiver at the memory. Hawkins had been hit hard, a close knit town with nowhere to hide.

"No we- we should’ve fucking waited- I begged them to wait," Robin says. 

"Who did you get out with?" 

And there's the list of survivors. It's short. The amount of orphaned kids is extremely depressing, and for a while there's silence. All those people. Dustin's mom, Robin's dad. 

"Hopper's here, though," Dustin adds after a while.

"That explains why you're still alive." 

"Actually, dickhead, we're alive because I'm awesome. The radio-" 

"How many people are there?" Steve interrupts. 

"It's a whole new world, Harrington." 

It's better. 

You turn onto what looks like an old college campus and suddenly, there's people. So many people you walk backward and almost tumblr off of the curb, because fuck. There's noise, and smells, and sounds. There are little kids running around in a closed off area of the quad, laughing and chasing after one another. There are guns on guards patrolling makeshift walls. 

Your ears start ringing. 

"Think your girlfriend's gonna pass out," Darcy says. 

You're the last one to figure out she's talking about you. 

"Oh, hey. Hey," Steve says, stepping toward you. 

You take another step back. 

"Baby," he says softly. 

"There's people here." 

"So many new boyfriend's to choose from," he jokes. He's tentative, but he offers his hand like he knows you'll take it. "Come on. I promise I won't get jealous when you run off with somebody cooler." 

"I don't want somebody cooler," you say. 

"Okay, awesome, 'cause I was lying. I'd be super jealous. I'd feed myself to the geeks." 

"Don't say that." 

He grins at you, hand hovering in the gap between your bodies unwavering. Trust me, it says. Nothing bad is going to happen to you. 

You take Steve's hand. 

—

The world is more than you and Steve against it. There are people to answer to. 

Chief Hopper actually recognises you when he sees you. He recognises Steve first, and he gives him a pat on the back. You aren't expecting any hellos, figuring you're barely a memory to him, but Hopper smiles at you like you've just told him you have the antidote for zombification in your rucksack. 

"It's good to see you, kid."

That night, in the dining hall, you get a small welcome between shift announcements. Hundreds of heads turn your way, and while some house cagey unsurety, the majority are happy to see you. 

You sit with Steve and his friends (plural, a growing number, because nearly all of them are here), torn between stopping him from crying his eyes out with happy tears and listening to the older woman sitting beside you. Her name is Mallory, and she offers a generous gift. 

"You have any questions at all, sweetpea, and you can come to me. Or if you just wanna talk, my shoulder's right here." She pats it for emphasis. 

"Thank you so much." But, you want to say, I have Steve.

"Young love, and in a time like this." Mallory's smile is genuine, if a little haunted. "It's amazing." 

You indulge her, turning from Steve just slightly. "But?" 

She brushes a strand of hair behind her ears. It's three colours, a faded red at the middle, a mix of grey and brown at the top. "Listen, I have some unsolicited advice for you hon, but I'm not trying to offend you when you just got here." 

You shake your head. "No," you say hurriedly, "of course not. I wouldn't think that." 

She digs around in her pocket and opens her hand covertly under the table. When you look at it, she hisses. "No, don't. Keep your eyes up." 

You right your gaze accordingly. The canteen is simply that — the college's canteen. Every night there's something cooking, and every morning if they can afford it. Although you'd been told some people eat at home, most people come here, because this is the only place with a reliable generator. From where you're sitting, you can see everybody, and you suspect Steve had chosen this vantage point on purpose. 

Hopper stands at the front of the room behind another man, who's moved from the important stuff and is now lamenting at the book club's low attendance. They have a fucking book club. You can't believe it. 

Mallory drops something into your hand. A hard-boiled candy.

"My advice," she says, the two of you watching as Hopper and the second man confer, "is to try and be in both worlds at once." 

"You've lost me." 

"That's not a good sign, I've barely started," she jokes, laughing so much that the men sitting across from you laugh too. She carries on, "What I mean is, this isn't home. It probably never will be. We fight so hard to make it home, we plant trees, 'n' we sleep warm every night, but…" She squeezes your shoulder amicably, a light, quick touch. "I know how it felt when I got here. Me and my husband, we kept to ourselves. And we were right to, not everybody here can be good. But when he died, I had nobody." 

You let your eyes drop to you plate, a small portion of a soup that's not the best and a sandwich that's marginally better. You get what Mallory's trying to say — don't put your eggs all in one basket, not when the basket might get mauled to death any day coming. 

You get what she's trying to say. You don't appreciate it. 

"Thank you," you say weakly. 

She nods, and Steve saves you from anymore conversation with an arm hooked through yours. 

“You okay?” he asks. Unmistakably fond. 

You can feel the eyes of all of his friends. All these people you knew too, or knew of, and should be happy to see. You should be so fucking happy right now. 

So why aren’t you?

You turn your face to his and take him in. He’s got a red rash of skin over the top of his head from prolonged sunburn and a scar under his left eye from a cruel tree branch. He looks different than the Steve you’d met at school, and he looks different still from the Steve you’d saved on day 1. 

But he’s your Steve. 

You drop your forehead into his neck, love like a warm blanket encapsulating you when he presses a kiss against your forehead. 

“I know,” he says, moving back, forcing you to sit up again. “It’s crazy.”

You return his smile, though you aren’t sure you're on the same page. 

—

Little Hawkins makes you want to curl up into a ball and cry. It’s a floor of rooms in the campus dormitories, and Robin shares with a couple of other people your age. She only has a mattress and her things on the ground in one room, but soon Steve and another guy are dragging another mattress from across campus while you watch. 

"No offence," Steve says, "but I'm trying to spoil you right now. Can you stop pouting? I'm giving you a breather." 

"I don't believe you." 

He and the unnamed man lean the mattress up outside of Robin's door. 

"Well," he says warmly, and you're starting to feel lovesick with how sweet he's being, nearly enough to forget how scared you are, "maybe you should try." 

Steve is nice. He's always been nice, ever since you met him, even if that nice was strapped down and buried under one layer of derision, one layer of sarcasm, and another layer of sternness for prosperity. But this is another level. Ever since he woke you up he's been ridiculous (he's been the kind of affectionate you've secretly ached for). Steve's sparing with affection but you wouldn't ever complain — can you expect him to play doting boyfriend when each day he's hardwired and on the fritz trying to make sure you both don't die agonising, gross deaths? 

This is fucking crazy, though. 

Steve pulls you bodily by the waist into his front and talks into the highest point of your cheek, words muffled by your skin, "When was the last time we slept on a mattress? Gotta be months ago," — you lean into him entirely, he takes your weight with zero qualms — "when we were in that house by the lake with all the soaps." 

"So many soaps," you murmur, melted by his closeness. 

He laughs. He giggles, all boyish and pretty and you can't help yourself, you lift your chin, practically begging for a kiss. 

You get a short one. Steve's too busy laughing. "And the canned pickles. I know they were, like, doomsdayers, but what did we count, like-" 

"Fifty seven-" 

"Fifty seven jars of pickles," he finishes. 

If this is what Steve is like here, you can make the trade. You don't trust anybody that isn't him, and it feels like you're surrounded by people who could easily hurt you, but his easy joy right now is contagious. 

Robin's voice comes loud from inside her room. "Hey, lovebirds! Are you coming in? They turn all the lights off in like, twenty minutes." 

It's obvious how much Steve trusts Robin. You get the mattress in her room through a series of squeezing and hoping, and she shows you her fancy little sink with running water, nothing short of pride in her eyes. 

"It's freezing," she says, "but you can wash up." 

It genuinely doesn't bother you that it's cold, emotionally. Physically you get the jitters, and it's worth it because Steve pities you and wraps you up tight to rub your arms. He and Robin talk a lot, so much that your brain has given up on listening. It's not something you're happy to hear anyhow, your perilous journey. Steve is generous on your account, leaving out all your most embarrassing moments. 

You sit on the end of the mattress and wonder if you can take your shoes off. 

"Robin?" you ask. 

Both turn to look at you, surprised. 

"Yeah?" 

"Does the door lock?"

She brings her legs up to her chest, chin on her knees. "There's no deadbolt, but you need a key to open it from the outside. So kind of?" She watches you for a moment, and then she nods towards the desk covered in books. "I used to put the chair under the handle when I first got here. You can do that, if you're worried." 

You nod uselessly and get up to do just that. 

"Thanks, Robs," Steve says. 

"Yep." She flops into a ball on her side and pulls the blankets up and over her face. "Goodnight, then." 

Steve laughs and steps over your legs so he can get to her. "Robin," he says, pulling the blankets down. "I- I really missed you." 

She holds out her arms and they hug. She pats his back. "Missed being a pain in my neck, maybe," she mutters. He pushes away from her in mock disgusts and they smile, a shared smile that douses you in an unfair jealousy. You shrug it off pretty quickly when he sits down on the mattress beside you, looking content and, shockingly, really tired. 

He encourages you up to the top of the mattress beside him and folds up the blanket from the rucksack for you as a pillow, sliding it under your head. When he seems confident that you're comfortable he blows out the candle burning on Robin's desk. 

This part's easy, you and Steve in the dark. You're practised in the art of moving around one another. 

Your heart pounds in your ears as Steve pulls a heavy blanket over the both of you, his arm strewn across your stomach haphazardly. 

"Are you okay?" he whispers. 

You turn your face to his though you can't see it. "Of course I am. Are you okay?" 

"I know this is weird." 

Weird doesn't feel like the right word. Surreal, maybe. Something out of a dream. 

"I think my back aches more on the mattress, I'm so used to twisting myself into knots between your legs." 

He snorts. "That doesn't sound right." 

You cover his arm with your hand. "Pig." 

"You can lie on my chest, if you want." 

"Think it's your turn to use me as cushioning." Your voice is coloured by your smile. 

He exhales into your shoulder. 

"Mm. This is nice," he murmurs. 

"You want me to take the first shift?" 

"I don't think we need shifts." 

You can't agree. Steve trusts Robin and you trust Steve, but you do not trust Robin. She seems lovely, and through Steve's stories you know she's a good person, but he hasn't seen her in a year. She could be anybody, and she's locked into a room with you.

You don't mean to be deceitful. "Alright," you utter, "no shifts." 

"You smell nice," Steve says. His lips move against your skin, and he lifts his head enough to kiss your jaw, three kisses in succession. "Goodnight, honey." 

You raise your hand to his head. "Goodnight." 

He falls asleep to you carding through his hair. Even when you're sure he's dead to the world you keep going, the feeling of it between your fingers calming. 

You don't sleep a wink. 

—

It becomes a mantra. Steve is happy here. Over and over and over. 

You're happy too by consequence; Steve is a new person, still the man you know but with this emanating happiness rolling off of him in waves. 

Chief Hopper has promised to get you and Steve a place together if you want one. This had scared you half to death, because you want one bad, but you'd been expecting a little resistance from Steve (or, admittedly, a lot). Because… 

You're starting to think maybe you aren't scared of the people here. You trust Hopper to run a community that's safe if he says it is, and as the days stretch into a week, two weeks, you start to feel secure. Steve's never far, but that's the terrifying part. 

You're worried Steve is going to leave you. 

It sounds dramatic. It is dramatic. But you're scared shirtless that Steve is going to wake up and realise he doesn't owe you a thing, that he doesn't harbour the affection for you that he thinks he does. You're worried that Steve had gone soft on you because you'd been there, like a habit. 

Your feelings for him only grow, despite this. He's fucking handsome when he's clean-shaven, clean in general. Somebody's mom gives him a haircut and you can't believe it, because he's always been good looking but you can tell he's more confident like this, and the confidence makes him golden. 

He's also super handsy. 

You love it, and you get it. You know you look prettier clean, even more so after somebody's mom gives you a haircut and you've managed to scrub the perma-dirt from under your nails. The want to kiss him is dialled up by a thousand because you always have clean teeth.  

The nagging fear remains even when he's got a mouthful of your neck. 

"Ouch," you moan, hands in his hair, legs spread enough to accommodate his figure between them, "s'like a geek, nibbling on me." 

Steve bites a little harder. 

You gasp at his show of force and push your head away from him. "Steve," you say with a laugh.

"Sorry, sorry," he apologises, pulling back. Elbows at your ribs, he holds his weight off of you though there's no reason to. "My teeth missed you." 

"What the fuck." 

"All of me missed you." He strokes the side of your face mildly. "I hate this." 

You wiggle under him, mattress springs digging into your back. He doesn't bother explaining what he'd meant, only leans down to kiss your cheek, your chin, the tip of your nose. 

You stare at him. 

"What do you hate?" 

He scrunches his nose up like it's obvious, and you're stupid for not knowing. "Us being on separate schedules. It's fucking shitty." 

You don't have an answer for him. It seems more than lucky that he would assuage your worst feelings considering you haven't told him anything at all. You haven't told him about staying up at night to make sure Robin's not gonna kill him, or how worried you are that he's gonna realise he can leave you now you're safe, now you don't owe each other anything. You haven't told him how much you love him, and how much that would hurt. 

Somehow, you get the impression that he knows anyway. 

"This is really nice," you say eventually. 

He rests his face against yours. You close your eyes. 

"What's nice?" he asks. "Our separation? You're sick, babe. I'm trying to bare my heart here and you're stomping all over it." 

"Not our separation, dummy. This. You lying on top of me. It feels really nice." 

His small laugh warms your cheek. "I know. Why'd you think I let you climb all over me for months?" 

"'Cause otherwise we'd freeze to death?" 

He kisses a line down to the skin under your ear. "That, too. But mostly because it feels good." 

You wrap your arms around him and press your nose to his hair, smelling him for your own self-indulgence. He lets his weight press down on you, shifting his arm so they're digging behind your shoulders. 

You hook a leg behind his. 

"Steve, I…" 

"I love you." 

You stiffen. 

He hugs you that tiny bit tighter. "I love you," he says again. "I should've told you before, but I- I was so afraid that you'd-" He clears his throat quietly. "I was fucking terrified that I was going to let you down. You kept almost dying on me, and I kept realising I wouldn't be able to do this without you." 

"I love you too," you say, shell-shocked. 

He kisses your cheek slowly, softly, and then he lifts himself up so you're face to face. 

"I love you," you say, because he'd said it twice. 

His smile is gentle, eyes creased with a loving amusement. "I know." Steve steals back one of his arms so he can thumb under your eye. "I know you're not sleeping." 

"Steve-" 

"No, listen. I know you don't trust Robin-" 

"I do-" 

"You don't, and it's okay." He cups your cheek. "It's okay. You know, Hopper said it wouldn’t take long to find us a room. A couple more days and you won’t have to worry. And you know I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

“I know,” you say, voice softening to match his own. 

He squeezes your cheek. “There’s a lot of stuff I should say to you and I’m kind of trying to hang onto my last shred of dignity here, but I mean it. More than I’ve ever- More than anyone. I love you.”

Your lips fall into a self-pitying pout. You won’t cry, though you feel like you could, because this is possibly the happiest you’ve ever been in your life. Steve loves you more than anyone, plain as day. He wouldn’t say that if he were going to swap you out for a new apocalypse girlfriend anytime soon, ‘cause Steve doesn’t mess with feelings. He’s earnest. 

“Ever since we got here, I’ve been waiting for you to break up with me,” you say. 

Which is funny in itself. You and Steve kissed each other every now and then for weeks before you had the conversation — it feels juvenile to think of boyfriends and girlfriends in life or death, and, paradoxically, it feels really important. The label means a lot to you. The ‘I love you’ means the world, even if he’s been showing it everyday since he met you. 

He makes a sound that’s a combination of a scoff, a snort, and a pitying sigh. “You’re ridiculous,” he says. 

You laugh so loudly it surprises you both. “I’m ridiculous? Get off of me, rich boy.”

Steve hunkers down. “What? No way. I live here now.”

“Seriously, Harrington, get off. I'm sick of you. Robin promised she’d find me a new boyfriend. Maybe I’ll get one with compassion.”

He laughs. He’s trying not to, and it comes out warm and soft to spite him. “Fine, let’s break up.”

“Fine.”

He tilts his head toward yours until your foreheads are touching, staring into your eyes. It takes a lot of willpower to hold in your laugh. “Wanna go on a date with me?”

You lift your chin and kiss him through giggles. “Yeah, okay. Options are pretty limited here, anyway.”

[doodle-pops]

Bet On It

Elrohir x reader

Request: Elrohir, id love a friend's to lovers trope fic. reader can be also arwen or glorfindel's friend and they keep telling both them and elrohir to fucking confess to eachother but they refuse to because of the classic "I don't want to ruin our friendship,I can't lose them." They think they're subtle with pinning after one another but like everyone can tell they're in love. Casual physical affection, spending way too much time with eachother, "subtle" acts of service, etc. Idiots in love literally. One of them end up confessing after like a sweet moment, just a quiet whisper or a small kiss but it's enough for the other to finally confess too. Just a super fluff moment of them finally freely loving one another! - Anon

Warnings: fluff, mutual pinning, friends to lovers, confession, kissing

Words: 1.9k

Synopsis: You and Elrohir muster the courage to break old ties while recreating new ones as you begin a future together.

Walking up the familiar winding pathway that to the private getaway pavilion at the top, your feet softly padded against the steps until you made three raps to the wooden pillar. Somewhere, you heard the noticeable airy thuds of Elrohir’s feet coming your way eagerly, easily hiding a bag of jittery nerves. Casually the makeshift curtain drew back and revealed his evening radiance, attired in light blues and greys, a single braid to the right and his ebony hair loosely cascading down his back. Such was the simplicity of your dear friend, whom you cherished more than anything else in the world.

Through the momentary welcoming, your eyes dropped from his face to meet his chest, too fearful of giving away too many emotions already. Memories of Lady Arwen’s conversation replayed in your head about making a move otherwise it would be a great loss on your behalf, not before reminding you of her brother’s whereabouts.

Heart beating rapidly in your throat, you curled your toes against your sandals and exhaled. “Elrohir.”

“Y/N,” he greeted just as breathlessly as you. “Please come in. It is a wonderful surprise to have you visit.”

Gingerly you brushed past his shoulders, head dipping and eye falling to the floor as you entered his space. It was, and still is a haven of comfort and peace of mind for you when the world was hard on your shoulders. Now, it felt foreign with the looming messages of what you had planned to execute tonight…hopefully. Taking your time to observe the interior, not much had changed since your last visit, and nor had he finished the upturned book lying haphazardly on his bed.

“You still haven’t finished the Utopia Trilogy?” you laughed as you walked over and flipped the book over, scanning the page. “I thought you were a master at reading.”

Unbeknownst to you, your choice of conversational starter was an ice breaker for Elrohir, for even he was skittish and unsure of how to approach. Thankfully, luck was in the air.

Giving a lazy scratch to the back of his head, he made a guttural sound, almost like a deep whine and stomped over to pry the book gently out of your hands. Placing it back on the shelf, he spun around to purse his lips. “What did I tell you about judging my reading abilities? One does not rush a book, but timelessly enjoy it.”

“If timeless enjoying it means over a year, then by all means, continue,” you snickered and plopped onto his bed, shuffling your sandals off and making yourself comfortable. As easily as the conversation started, the rest flowed once Elrohir noticed the tension dissipating. Following suit, he climbed on the bed, sitting at the foot with his legs crossed and hands in his lap.

His honey-brown eyes flickered from the rumpled bed sheets to your feet to your face and then back at the sheets. “So,” he began quietly, “it’s been a while since we last spoke. How have you been?”

“Oh, you know, the usual. Nothing new with me. Just wandering Imladris like a ghost, visiting the gardens and robbing all the local merchants,” you shrugged, your fingers idly found themselves tracing the mahogany armrest of the chair beside the bed. You were desperately fighting to keep your tone light. “And you? Last I heard, you all went as far as Forodwaith?”

Elrohir nodded with a tight-lip smile as he rocked back and forth. “Sort of. We met with the Dúnedain on the way and hunted some orcs all the way to the borders before turning back to come home—didn’t want to be away for too long. I tend to miss all my favourite people back home,” he explained, leading to you feeling a flush of warmth from his words, your heart beating a little faster prompting you to lift your head and lock eyes with him in the instant. A silent understanding passed between you two, then, with a small almost shy smile, he reached out and gently touched the back of your hand. “I’ve missed our conversations.”

You felt a shiver run through you at the contact, his touch sending a wave of warmth through your body. Wanting to duck your head or cover your face, you mustered the courage to withhold eye contact. “It’s good to be here,” you murmured lightly.

“It’s good to have you here,” he corrected.

For a while, the two of you engaged in effortless conversations, your body language morphing from tense to relaxed as your bodies shifted about the bed, slowly getting closer and closer. Discussing a myriad of topics that ranged from his adventures with his brothers and others to his daily duties and past, you covered the profound to the mundane. Topics of books, to your imagination, tales of old, uncharted dreams and future adventures beyond the lands of Middle Earth were thrown around gracefully and turned the evening into nightfall easily. The fullness of the moon rose from behind the clouds, shining glittering strands of light upon you both through the vine-covered canopy, aiding with the ambience.

Throughout your dialoguing, subtle gestures conveyed what words could not. Elrohir’s hand would brush lightly against yours as he passed you a cup of tea, a simple act imbued with unspoken affection. Your fingers would linger on his arm, savouring the warmth and closeness as you shared a moment of laughter over a shared memory. Each touch, though fleeting was charged with meaning, speaking of a connection that ran deeper than a mere friendship. The air between you crackled with unspoken tension, a dance of intimacy and restraint, each gesture a silent confession of feelings that lay just beneath the surface.

As the evening wore on, the moon dipping behind a cloud and hiding its light, a comfortable silence settles between you. Elrohir glanced at you, his expression contemplative. “Do you ever think about the future?” he asked suddenly.

You couldn’t resist looking at him surprised by the question. “Sometimes,” you admitted. “What brought this on, may I ask?”

He hesitated, his left shoulder bumping against your knees as he looked up from his lying position. The proximity was enough for you to catch a whiff of the mint of his tongue. “I was on a ride this morning with Lord Glorfindel, and he left me questioning myself and other things with his…choice of word,” he breathed and reached out to hold your hand and give it a small swing. “I just wondered what the future would hold for us. You and I, specifically.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the implication of them making your breath catch. Furthermore, the fiddling of his hand with yours increased your heart rate, leaving you occasionally needing to inhale.

The tension that was in the air now, a charged energy which made the room feel smaller and more intimate was sluggishly bringing your heads closer. Elrohir looked up, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. With bated breath, his voice dipped as his fingers intertwined with the hand he was playing with. “There is something I need to tell you, and I hope it doesn’t push you away or ruin things between us,” he said earnestly. “I care about you…more than a friend. I have for a long time.”

You stared at him for a long while, your heart pounding like a thunderous stampede of wild beasts. Lady Arwen’s words and teasing replayed in your mind as she told you about her brother crushing you for a long time. It was hard to see when all you saw was friendship and didn’t want to ruin the good you had. Opening your mouth to respond, no sound exited, so you closed it and remained breathless while he nervously held your hand, his thumb soothingly stroking the back of your hand repeatedly. His touch sent shivers down your spine. “I know it might come as a surprise, but I can’t keep it to myself any longer. I hope this doesn’t ruin our friendship.”

His confession hung in the air between you, the declaration that seemed to make time stand still. For a moment, you could only bashfully stare at him, the enormity of his words setting over you like a warm embrace. You didn’t know how to explain the urge that came over you when you licked your lips and darted your eyes to his, something he noticed and apprehensively craned his neck upwards to bridge the gap, his eyes closing briefly as if to savour the upcoming moment. In return, you closed your eyes when you felt his other hand slide around your neck to cup your nape and pull you closer.

With deliberate anticipation, Elrohir took his time to bridge the gap until his very own teasing antagonised him, forcing him to exhale before his lips collided with yours. A muffled groan from him turned into a grunt when he felt your hands reach out to cradle his neck, fingers scraping against his scalp leaving him shivering. Elrohir felt greedy in the moment as the first continued; years of silently loving you came pouring out in waves of passion and tenderness.

When you finally pulled apart, you were both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other, the world around you seeming to shimmer with newfound brightness. Elrohir’s eyes were soft, filled with a deep, abiding tenderness. “I can’t believe I was a fool for not believing Lord Glorfindel’s words at first,” he muttered, shaking his head with a smile. “I thought you wouldn’t feel the same because we’re just friends.”

“That makes to both of us,” you softly laughed. “I too didn’t believe your sister, but when she told me that both she and Elladan were betting on it, I had to do something about it.”

“Wait,” he cautioned as he sat upright, “my siblings conspired through betting. Come to think of it, Glorfindel did mention something about not wanting to lose a bet…of course.”

Sliding your hand off his neck to return to cradling his hands and playing with his fingers, rocked back and forth due to the overwhelming excitement in your chest. Finally, all your emotions came pouring out and the doubt you both feared was proven wrong. Roaming your eyes over his face, you leaned in, catching him off-guard, to kiss his lips once more, loving the sensation of his soft lips on yours. Fortunately, Elrohir did not mind the distraction you provided, reducing his plotting to deal with his siblings to focus on you before him.

“I’m glad I took the leap of faith and told you my heart,” he whispered through the kiss, cradling your cheeks and leaning in for another.

The two of you sat there for a while, simply holding each other, basking in the warmth of your newfound happiness. Eventually, as the night wore on, you found yourself lying side by side on his bed with his arms wrapped protectively, yet lovingly around you as your conversation about the future returned in delight. There was a sense of peace, a feeling that everything was right with the world now that you had finally confessed your love. All the weight was off your shoulders and replaced with bliss.

“I never want to be apart from you,” he said. “I want to spend every moment with you, to share my life with you.”

Your heart swelled as you looked up at him, your eyes softening. “I would like that as well.”

Leaning in, pleased at your response, his nose bumped against yours as he pecked your lips. “I can’t wait for our future together.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @rain-on-my-umbrella @mysticmoomin @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @sakurayaxd @aconstructofamind @involuntaryspasms @stormchaser819 @addaigio @lamemaster @elficially-done-with-life @eunoiaastralwings

[anonymous-dentist]

Day Four- Vampires

-

Cellbit breaks into the graveyard just after midnight, but it takes until three in the morning for his shovel to hit the coffin he’s looking for.

This particular subject was buried so recently that their headstone hasn’t even been put in place yet, so Cellbit doesn’t know who he’s about to be dealing with. Hopefully, they’re physically fit. (Though, really, he’d just be happy if they have all their body parts after the past few weeks’ failures.)

Cellbit lets out a breath, looks up at the cloudless sky, chucks his shovel out of the grave, and gets to work pulling the coffin above ground. It’s heavier than expected, but that’s a good thing; it just means the body’s intact enough to take apart properly.

Once the coffin’s flat on the pressed, dead grass above, Cellbit takes a seat on it and wipes the sweat off his face with the bottom of his t-shirt. It spreads dirt everywhere, but it’s not like anybody’s around to judge him.

“Okay,” he murmurs, standing and grabbing a surgical mask out of his backpack. He pulls the mask on, pinching it at the nose to keep it from sliding down. He doesn’t bother with gloves this time because he’s got a feeling he’ll be taking the whole body home this time.

“Okay,” he repeats. He looks down at the coffin, lets out an excited breath, shakes the jitters out of his body.

And then he opens the coffin, expecting a corpse but instead finding an abnormally-preserved man with one eye open and a slight bloodstain around his mouth.

Strange.

The man looks alive, is the thing, so Cellbit naturally reaches for his camera to document this absolute freak of a corpse.

The second his back is turned, there’s a wooden creak, and then there’s an audible yawn.

“Buenas noches,” he hears from behind- a deep, theatric voice so unnatural that it makes Cellbit’s bones shake. “Soy Dracula.”

Cellbit spins around and instinctively clicks the button on his camera, taking a photo and activating the flash and sending the man in the coffin screeching out of the coffin and onto the ground in a blinded heap.

The man writhes in pain with his hands clutched over his eyes.

Cellbit carefully puts his camera down. He replaces it with the hunting knife he brings with him for occasions just like this one, and he approaches the man slowly. No witnesses…

But then the man suddenly flips onto his back and pulls out his own knife out of his sleeve, and Cellbit freezes.

In his panic, Cellbit defaults to English: “What are you doing?”

The man answers in kind: “What the fuck are you doing, eh?”

“Biology,” Cellbit simply replies, because it’s true. That’s what he is doing despite what everybody around him thinks.

He levels his knife at the man’s throat. “Why were you buried?”

“Because I needed a nap. Why are you digging up graves? That’s weird, man.”

“And getting buried alive isn’t?”

The man shrugs. “Who says I’m alive.”

He drops his knife, then, and sits up, not flinching whatsoever as Cellbit leans in and digs the point of his knife into his throat. He just smiles and looks Cellbit over appraisingly.

“What?” Cellbit breathes. There’s no way…

“I said, ‘Who says I’m alive’. I’m a vampire. You know..”

The man hooks his pointer fingers in front of his mouth like fangs.

At that, Cellbit drops both his knife and his self onto the ground in disbelief. There’s no fucking way.

The man- the vampire- drops his hands and leans back on them. He yawns.

“Sooo, what are you supposed to be?” he asks. “Graverobber? I haven’t run into one of you guys for forever. I thought the government got rid of you all.”

Cellbit sniffs annoyedly. “I am not a graverobber.”

He’s absolutely sick of being called one, both by his advisor and by his own sister- his literal partners in crime.

“I,” he explains, not for the first time this year, “am a scientist.”

The vampire nods. “Right. A scientist robbing graves, yes.”

“It’s for science!”

“Suuuure.”

“It is!”

Cellbit reaches back and around the side of the coffin. He pulls his backpack closer, and then he pulls his notebook out of it, flipping it open to the first page, which has his proposed thesis neatly printed on it in expensive red ink.

He shows this to the vampire, who reads it aloud: “‘The potential to renew life where death has devoted the body to corruption’.”

He looks up at Cellbit with a frown. “So you’re a mad scientist.”

Cellbit scowls and pulls his notebook away, holding it close to his chest. “I’m not crazy.”

“I never said you are.” The vampire blinks, and then his eyes widen in faint panic. “Wait, were you going to experiment on me?”

“Well, yes, but I can’t anymore. You’re not dead.”

“I mean. I am.”

“Not in the way I would need you to be.”

“Huh.”

Silence, awkward.

Cellbit starts going through his notes looking for the next possible grave, sighing when he sees it’s at a cemetery an hour’s drive away.

“Do you, like… need help?” the vampire asks.

“Hm?”

“Getting another body. There’s gotta be another one around here, right?”

Cellbit looks up from his notes with a confused frown. “What?”

The vampire shrugs, alarmingly casual for someone suggesting stealing a corpse. (Then again, he is a vampire. They aren’t exactly known for their morals.)

“I mean, it’s fair, right?” he asks. “I screwed up your thing. I can get you another body, easy.”

Cellbit blinks a few times, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that there’s a goddamn vampire in front of him, let alone a vampire offering to help him dig up and steal a body.

What the fuck.

Sensing his confusion, the vampire says, “Hey, don’t worry, man. I don’t bite.”

He grins, open-mouthed, and it’s now that Cellbit can see his fangs- long, pointed little things easily capable of ripping a man’s throat out and eating it like it’s licorice.

What the fuck.

But, also? What else to research in the (self-invented) field of scientific necromancy than a literal vampire? This guy had to be turned somehow, and now he’s presumably-immortal and perpetually undead. In other words: alive.

So Cellbit nods, and he stands, offering the vampire a hand up.

“I can’t get the next body until tomorrow,” he warns. “I hope you won’t mind the wait.”

The vampire pulls himself up with Cellbit’s help; he’s wearing a ring, Cellbit notices, on his left hand. Ring finger. Huh.

“Nah, don’t worry,” the vampire says. He winks, squeezes Cellbit’s hand once, and then he lets go. “I’m great at waiting.”

[cutie-writes]

Genshin Characters as the Weird Shit that Happens at my Work

(I work at a roller rink/ family entertainment)

Got their head stuck in a claw machine because they were out of money but absolutely needed that prize: klee, bennett, ITTO, kirara

On the jungle gym despite being a grown ass man literally on a business call: childe, heizou, wriothesley, venti

Complained about the structure of the building as though I created the shit: KAVEH, dori , ninguang

Asked for a refund when they never paid for anything: zhongli, fischl, furina

Had to be escorted off the rink after collapsing drunk on their ass: beidou, kaveh, VENTI

Loudly complained about his life with the bartender to a point that he hid in the back until they were gone: KAAAVEH, venti, kaeya

brought a knife in and had the audacity to act shocked that the police arrived: CHILDE, rosaria, xiao

Bragged about their VIOLENT charges across the entire state that somehow went unnoticed yet was a manager for several months????: childe, eula, wanderer

Had a break down over the rubber duck machine: furina, razor, diona

Let out the most god awful fart and blamed it on the kid next to him: HEIZOU, venti, ITTO

Dressed up as Jesus and went out on the roller rink: barbara, venti, nilou

Somehow managed to stuff the mini trash cans into the toilets?: xingqiu, klee

Accidentally broke the door off a locker: raiden shogun, itto, bennett

Gave the nicest smile before obliterating the party room: xiangling, zhongli, kaeya, YAE MIKO, ayato, ayaka

Wanted to know when the “rat guy” is coming: qiqi, albedo, lyney & lynette, xiao

Bitched about their mom when she was right behind them: wanderer

STOLE $400 WORTH OF POKÉMON CARDS????: cyno

Skated with a fucking lizard on his shoulder: tighnari, wriosthesley, baizhu, razor

Got in trouble with another mom for laughing when her kid ate shit: yae miko, hu tao, deyha, heizou *The Mom: jean, nahida, candace

Took a nap behind the front counter: LAYLA, lisa, kokomi, sayu

Decided this was a great place to read: xingqiu, kazuha, alhaitham, neuvillette, yanfei

*Pissed that it was too loud to read: Alhaitham (forgot his headphones) xingqiu, yanfei

Went on a sugar high that can only be described as traumatic: chongyun, furina, klee, raiden shogun, shenhe

Took a nap upstairs despite the fact we were literally robbed an hour ago: lisa, sayu, layla, albedo, wriothesley, yelan

Randomly on the roof after closing and noticed our dumpster was on fire?: XIAO, nahida, diluc, rosaria, freminet

Sang the entire high school musical discography while we cleaned the restrooms: BARBARA, amber, yoimiya, noelle, xingyan

Joked about a customer meeting god up close and personal if he slips on the rink: hu tao, rosaria

Asked for spare change while the fire alarm went off and we were evacuating: albedo, mona, alhaitham

*The one who pulled the fire alarm: wanderer, childe, klee

Took one hit of a vape and just about croaked: baizhu, mona, yunjin

Cracked their head open and tried to skate the next day: itto, childe, dehya

Gave all the employees sparkly stickers: yao yao, kokomi, nilou, nahida

[ventingfanfics]

Yours (Shuri x Reader)

AN: Okay, this is so explicit it might not even make the tag. But I hope those of you who get a chance to read it enjoy it. This is a one-shot about Shuri coming back home to you and you both showing each other how much you missed the other.

18+

It’s while you’re washing dishes that you feel a body press against you from behind. The embrace is strong, warm, and familiar. A series of gentle but reassuring kisses is placed on your neck, shoulder, and the scope of your ear. 

“My love,” her delivery of those two words is what honey would sound like if it could speak. You grin with your heart because you are reunited. The duration of your separation lasted two weeks too long, so needless to say having your woman return was the highlight. Shuri brightens as you turn from the sink to greet her properly. The mug you were scrubbing is an afterthought.

Her tender laugh reverberates through you as you launch her into your arms, fiercely hugging her. A soothing hum vibrates between you as she begins to slowly sway you both. “Did you miss me?” It almost sounds like a whisper. 

You pull back to find her eyes delicately sweep over yours. An infectious smile follows. “You know I did,” You answer, holding eye contact. The only thing she didn’t know was how much you missed her. It bordered on punishment being robbed of waking up to her and going to bed with her.

She nods like she does know the full extent of your pining. Her hand caresses your face as she continues to admire you. For her, it is a privilege to be near you again. Her lashes flutter close as she closes the gap between you, gently laying her lips on yours before kissing you. You follow her lead, which is tender and lingering. The kiss builds into want and need. You could swear that she has become an even better kisser than before. 

The need for air is the only reason your mouthes detach, though you can still taste each other. Her breath is yours and yours is hers. “I missed you so much, entle, I could cry.”

You crack a smile because it sounds dramatic and you love it. How special it feels to not be alone in your unyielding passion for her. She rubs your curves before squeezing them. Her dark curls tickle you as she leans her forehead to yours. 

“Wanna show me?” You ask lowly, stroking her nape. 

Her expression changes into a dark smirk. Before you know it, you’re being carried upstairs to the master bedroom. 

~

Shuri shows you alright. She mashes her hips to yours, your moans also in sync as her vibranium strap burrows deep inside you. She grunts at your spasms, the literal gripping sensation causing her to buck even harder. Your eyes shift around and your mouth hangs open as you let her thrust into you with all she’s worth. She’s doing so good it doesn’t even need to be said. 

Eventually, you get the idea to hold her firm, so that’s what you do. You seize her smooth bottom to keep her in place. Her face is deliciously sexed out as she meets your own starry eyes. You lovingly hug her waist with your legs before pressing down hard on her ass. She gets the hint that you don’t want her to move anymore. The question is why. Her breasts are pressed against yours and it feels like heaven. “Fuck,” you say and it sounds so lovely that Shuri grins. 

“Do you need a break, baby?” She asks. Being considerate of you is true to her fashion. Smiling, you shake your head no, which confuses her a little. You bring her into a tender kiss and grip her hair purposely coaxing a moan out of her. 

“Cockwarm,” you whisper against her lips. And just like that you feel the technology advanced shaft flex inside you. Droplets spill from the tip that is pointed deep within you. Her moisture mixes with yours. 

Shuri curses in Xhosa and groans in your neck like she’s helpless. 

“Be a good girl and keep it hard for me,” You coach and slowly seize her ripe buttocks. It’s like every other part of her body: richly soft and smooth. “If you keep it hard, I’ll let you move as rough as you want.” Shuri bucks into you again making you smirk. You sigh in bliss as she bites down your earlobe. “Stop moving, babe. I didn’t give you permission yet. I promise you can soon, okay?” You melt when she acknowledges your direction with a nod and whispered, “yes.”

“Just let this pussy hold you. Take care of you.” Shuri hisses, straining herself to stay still. You can feel her rock hard nipples and the tip of her shaft leaks like a faucet, the drops becoming thicker, lubricating you further. One thing about you and Shuri, you both enjoying driving each other mad with stimulation. 

After a moment, you slowly lift your waist, your tight hold on Shuri’s rear remaining. You continue to move unhurried, swirling your hips.

“Baby, please,” Shuri begs into your neck. 

“Please what?”

“Let me fuck you.” She intakes another sharp breath as your walls clasp around her with extra force yet again. “I know you want it…let me give you what you deserve, baby. Come on.” You feel her grunt in your toes as she not so subtly adjusts herself against you. 

You frown with mock sympathy. “I love when you get needy for me. You just can’t wait to bust that load, huh? Fill my guts with that delicious cum. Are you gonna give me a big load?”

“Y/N! Yes!” She desperately surges forward. You swallow her animalistic whining with a dizzying kiss . Too overcome, she can’t hold the kiss. She drives into you again and again like a starved panther, the bed moving as well from her strength. It’s beyond her. Her body drills yours at un unstoppable pace that has you feeling like you’re on one of those intense rides at the amusement park. 

“Shuri! Oh, baby! Breed me, breed me!”

You feel her tears from the overwhelming and prolonged pleasure as she does just that: what feels like a gallon of spunk is being emptied inside your pretty and addictive hole. You cream her excessively as well, your body shuddering in the process. 

Shuri rolls onto your side and brings you into a dreamy kiss. “You are amazing,” she says with a smile. “Even though you tortured me.”

With a lighthearted laugh and lazy smile, you lean into her kisses. “You are amazing. I think that’s the most you ever came. I should reward you.”

By that, you meant restraining her arms as you rode her long, thick member that sprung inside you once again. She knew you liked seeing her overstimulated and at your mercy so she played into it. 

“Damn, baby…at least let me touch you.” 

“You are touching me,” You reply, grinding down on her and then pinching her nipples with an impish smile.

~~

To say that your lady looks sexy between your legs is an understatement. You had her licking up the cum she had deposited inside you. Of course she was feasting upon your combined juices. “Is it good?” You ask, providing her with soothing strokes along her neck, back, and shoulders. She nods, continuing to use her mouth. An eager thing she was too. “You dirty girl. Do you fill me just so you can taste yourself afterwards?” Shuri pauses her ministrations before giving you a look. You can’t help but laugh knowing she’s thinking you’re filthy. But she likes it.

She comes up and kisses you greedily yet generously, making you taste what she’s been tasting. You slow the kisses down with gentleness, proceeding to your next move. You guide her so you have a direct view of her pretty pearl that you had purposely neglected despite depriving yourself in the process. “I didn’t even get to taste you yet. A shame, huh?” 

Shuri runs her hand along your hair and strokes your jaw. “Get to it,” she says making you gape in surprise. You smirk but waste no time diving in, appreciating how tight and wet she is for you only. Those raunchy noises she makes are only for you. 

Your name is the only name she calls when she orgasms and blesses your stomach with her essence. 

[foursaints]

thoughts on barty canonically crying for his father to save him while being arrested?

to me, whether or not the crying is “real��� is one of the key moments of barty’s ambiguity in the text and i love that it’s never answered. barty’s ambiguity and the unresolved tension between the parts of him that are “true” and “pretend” is one of my favorite things about him (i think of the classical greek term, polytropos) and i wouldn’t rob him of that by trying to give an answer.  

i can definitely speculate but it's just such crucial scene in my opinion. under the cut i'll talk about the implications of both options. if i had to title a barty character thesis it would be the line from that passage: “and the boy continued to struggle” 

OPTION 1: it's fake

this was my gut reaction at first. faking innocent tears is his best move in that situation and we know him to be manipulative & a gifted actor. it would also have been an audacious and hilarious move given that anybody who even remotely knows him would know that he’s not a simpering little loyal sensitive son & serve as a final way to fuck over his dad— playing up the picture of the Son That He Should Have Been. it would also explain crouch sr. being like “Lmfao Take Your Lying Ass Immediately To Wizard Jail” 

OPTION 2: it's real 

however, i believe that it was real. i dont mean that he actually thought he was innocent or anything but i think the tears were real. in my interpretation we’re watching barty grapple with this farcical trial, knowing full well the outcome, and crying for his entire wasted life. to me, that’s more compelling.

 i try to keep in mind that barty doesn’t have a father in the traditional sense, he grew up under imperius with a disembodied Father-Voice in his head telling his body what to do— he doesn’t know him as an actual man. in barty’s experience, his father is more like an old testament God. so it’s fascinating that he was able to leave & rebel to the extent that he did under those circumstances. he continued to struggle. 

i love that he’s acknowledging himself in this moment. it’s a plea for help technically, but i tend to read it as more of a condemnation: “I’m your son!” 

this is the first time in years since leaving that he’s seeing his father again, this time in physical possession of his own body. but again he’s quite literally in chains. and now all that secret dictatorial control over him is in front of an audience. i see his crying as his elektra “filth teaches filth” moment– if I had to place more of my own emphasis on his words it would be “I didn’t do it— I’m YOUR son”. in this context, “Mother, I didn’t do it. It wasn’t me” resonates harder. 

i also cant talk about this scene without calling attention to this specific moment: 

the line “i didn’t know” feels so… out of place? and guttural? it almost doesn’t make sense in context (saying “I didn’t know” feels more like an excuse for guilt rather than a denial of it) and that incongruency renders it so… honest? and then it’s sandwiched in the middle of this confession that we KNOW is a lie but it hurts for some reason… he didn’t know it would turn out like this. but i think that deep down he did, and he hoped that it wouldn’t.

i think that barty thought he could leave, and he thought he could try and arrange himself into a semblance of his own person, and he thought he could have something of a life. but there was literally no other possible outcome for him— who just happened to be born misfitted to the circumstances he was raised in, and who struggled fruitlessly his entire life— and trying to leave was a naive schoolboy’s fantasy and his apology comes out in a naive schoolboy’s words. he didn’t know! 

and this is also why it's so awesome that he breaks out of jail AGAIN and kills that man lmfao. (cardi b voice) Murder scene, Barty made a mess / POP UP, GUESS WHO, BITCH?

[tauforged]

Do you have any tips/tricks on getting into warframe? I want to play bc the designs look cool and I'm sure the story is just as interesting!

(It is completely OK to info-dump!)

OH BOY OH BOY!!!!!!!!

ive probably said it better before, but cant find the posts because this website has the worst search function known to all mankind -_- so i will give you some bullet points that will not be all inclusive and i invite anyone else who wants to chime in to do so!!

while the devs are definitely trying to streamline new player experience, the story is uh. a lot! the game has like, what, 11yrs worth of content behind it by now? there's a lot! depending on your playstyle and how you progress through the game, it might take you a while to really get into the meat of it -- or you might speedrun all the main storylines in like a month. there are lots of side quests and secondary objectives you can dick around with as much as you like, which some people find fun and some people find annoying. i liek it :) but it can definitely be a lot

there have been a lot of time limited events and hidden lore entries that make some things pretty inaccessible to new players. they seem to be trying to get better about this but its still not ideal. the wiki is not always right (afaik, theyre still hung up on whether or not albrecht and loid were ~canonically~ together, which is literally just blatantly textual) but it can be a good place to find summaries of shit you've missed out on. ive never watched a single one of those 'warframe lore explained' videos so i cannot vouch for any of their accuracy. i dont really pay attention to the subreddit or the official forums either, but those might have information too? idk

i personally find that some of the quests are thrown at you wayyyyy earlier than they should -- heart of deimos is one that i strongly believe should be way more lategame than it is, since it builds on a lot of stuff that you probably won't know by the time you get to it unless youve been paying veryvery close attention or have been going wiki spelunking. i wouldnt stress about it too much if something seems to make no fucking sense, though. most quests are replayable if you want to go back to something with fresh eyes or different context

i have probably already spoiled you on a lot of the lategame stuff and for that im sorry! lmao this isnt really a game where spoilers will ruin something per se, but since ive been playing the game since like 2013 i went into everything blind as it was released and i always had a huge blast when the game dropped a bombshell on us, so i try not to rob anyone of that experience if i can help it -- not a huge deal though depending on preference

there's a lot of grinding and farming. i personally dont find it overly tedious as there's a lot to do and it's easy to mix things up and take breaks, but for some people it's a huge turn off, so just a heads up i guess. you can technically bypass a lot of the grind by buying new frames or weapons off the market if you really want to spend your money on that, but there's some things that are locked behind a reputation grind and such. and honestly, you dont Need to spend money on anything but some cosmetics

trying to play through everything solo might be fun if you enjoy a challenge, but i personally find it to be unsustainable. you're going to want to find a decent sized clan and you're going to want to either find friends to play with or hit up the recruiting chat for backup.

you can make platinum pretty easy by farming prime parts or rare mods and other such tradeable things and selling them to other players. i dont bother with this because im bad at keeping up on video game economies and it never interested me. but it makes being a 100% f2p player a lot easier when you need to buy inventory slots and such

there are over 50 warframes and countless ways to mod each one, and an absurd amount of different weapons -- there isnt really any one playstyle thats 'better' than any other. i perosnally pay next to no attention to the meta outside of keeping in mind what damage types are effective against which enemies. some people really enjoy minmaxxing the hell out of their shit. you can kinda just do whatever

don't buy plat without having at least a 50% discount login bonus unless it is an absolute emergency. the discounts are random but ive found they happen often enough that i can just wait around for one to pop up and replenish if i'm low. or dont bother idk i cant tell you how to spend your money im not your dad

mute region chat for the sake of your own sanity. nobody in there is as funny as they think they are. moderation is better in there than it used to be but it's still a wasteland

the most important part of playing warframe is having fun and being yourself :)

[weebsinstash]

Not gonna lie if I were the reader after they got replaced by YouTwo I would be a neurotic mess lmao. I already mental issues but I can't imagine going through their trauma on top of everything. I would definitely be scratching myself again out of sheer stress and anxiety about whether or not everybody will replace me again. My arms would look horrible. Oh boy imagine everybody's reaction to realizing they've messed up this badly and absolutely ruined the reader

Other people: fun ways we can write! Coffee shop au! Red string of fate! Hanahaki! Enemies to lovers!

me: what if I sat and tried to seriously and realistically contemplate the ramifications of a severely traumatic experience and the following neurotic habits that arise from the spiral down

Reader gets back to Spider Society, either glitching back in or "being rescued" whatever, and, you're just doing shit like digging food out of the trash "you'd never guess what kinds of perfectly good stuff people throw away, and it saves time to not have to wait for anything to be prepped! Never know when you'll vanish in the middle of a meal or that one serial killer will pop out at you again!! Ahaha!

Someone comes to check on you and you deadass have a fucking, tripwire web trap all around you, you're not even sleeping in a bed you're in your own webbing (because we rock organic webbing here because it fucks) so the second anything like, opens the door of your apartment or comes near you, you're instantly aware. Peter B comes in "heeeey, just wanna check in, make sure you're doing ok--" and there's fucking web wires rattling cans as he opens the front door and suddenly you're wide awake with an actual fucking knife or some kind of equally brutal survivalist weapon and it takes you a few seconds to fully snap out of it and let him calm you down and he has to tell Miguel You Are In Fact Not Doing Ok

You've got real "scaring all your loved ones and everyone around you" energy during those times you're just like going through some manic shit, opening your mouth and going on a sudden 'epiphany' like "i know what would help!! I'm gonna start cutting my face in really visible prominent places and that way you guys will know by the scar who I am :) and when it heals I'll cut myself again :) and again :) maybe I should just cut off a finger, how many of me do you think are missing fingers? Or maybe I could give myself a cool scar!!" And it's just like. What the fuck do they even say to that. A lot of them just genuinely could cry over this, seeing what this did to you. You sound genuinely cheerful at the realization and give no mind to how casually you just suggested self harm out of paranoia and self preservation.

You're just having like hard-core eating disorder issues going from overeating to undereating, binging because you're suffer9ng trauma from starving and then starving yourself "no its fasting, I'm FASTING to save food and money and resources, ok, I can only fit so much in my backpack and--"

You have this backpack from your multiversal glitching travels and keeping it with you basically 24/7 even when you go to the bathroom becomes a comfort habit, because, "never know when your camp has been found by the runners and you've gotta make a break for it" or some other cryptic memory you babble at them like you're discussing coffee when it could be one of the most vile horrifying things they've ever heard

I think the most interesting but tricky thing I've thought of is, what if Reader's trauma-humor coping mechanism gets dialed up to 11 and you can basically never turn it off because, your brain is protecting yourself. It's like you're Doing A Bit but literally all the time like some traumatized method actor and you're just, they're never sure if you're actually telling the truth or actually recounting things you experienced after a while

"Oh man the last time I ate a meal this big was when I finally stopped glitching and I had to break into someone's house and rob them for food! Just call me Santa Claus! But this Earth had suffered a nuclear fallout so all they had was like, DRY CRACKERS and, a lotta canned stuff, icky, and, I was in the middle of trying to pry a tin of lil cocktail weenies open with my teeth when the irradiated house centipedes smelled my blood, just imagine like a normal centipede but, like, the size of a Shetland pony, hey, friendship really IS magic right, and me and these centipedes got SO close, so anyways they smelled my blood, right, and it made them hungry, and--" and here you got like The Entire Squad speechless, Hobies just over here like "fuck, I don't even know what to say to that, you want some ketamine bruv" and yall just hit em with "nah last time I tried ketamine I had a fever dream of being replaced by an evil clone and I was shunned by all my close friends who i thought of like family. Oh wait, that was you guys! That's awkward!"

[soisaidfine]

Cain, Bruce Springsteen and Ethel Cain: "We’re all daughters of Cain. A cautionary tale of what would happen if you gave in instead of trying to break the cycle of everything"

Reddit Ethel Cain

Bruce Springsteen: 'In the darkness of your room, your mother calls you by your true name, You remember the faces, the places, the names, You know it’s never over it’s relentless as the rain, Adam raised a Cain’

Ethel Cain: “Conversations with my mother inspired a lot of this record. When I first started writing this, it was a big “fuck you” to my mom: “I’m the victim. You ruined my life. I’m so traumatized and this is all your fault.” And then through conversations, you learn to forgive. While things were done that never should’ve been done… she had her reasons. You can never fully demonize another human being. There’s maybe not an excuse, but there’s an explanation. I’ve shared this record with my mother over the course of writing it and told her exactly how I’m feeling and what my goals are. I’ve gotten closer with her, which has influenced the record, and the record has influenced me to get closer to her. It’s been very therapeutic. I’ve seen people talk about the record like, “Damn, did you even try to be happy? This level of depression and misery and pessimism is dangerous and you should never give into it.” But the record is so depressing and dark because it’s been my scapegoat. It’s given me the opportunity in my personal life to let go and be happy. I’m in a much more positive place in my life now because I was able to kind of exorcize these feelings into this record. I’d rather the music be dark and awful than my heart be that way forever.”

Dave Marsh, Bruce Springsteen, ‘Adam Raised a Cain’: “It was precisely this feeling that he did not run his own life that had spurred Springsteen toward rock and roll. Darkness on the Edge of Town is the fruit of Springsteen’s growing awareness of these facts. And in a way, its most remarkable accomplishment is its spirit of compassion and reconciliation for everyone and everything that had ever been falsely blamed. The apex of that spirit is ’Adam Raised a Cain,’ in which Springsteen sees himself not only as a product of a specific social situation, but literally as his father’s heir. … this is the story of all sons, all fathers. And by telling it in terms of murder - the first murder, a fratricide - Springsteen makes all generations brothers, understanding once and for all that if there is an enemy, its face is not necessarily human. The fractured chords that lead into the song render the guitar a torture device and establish the motivation of the entire album - determination to break out of the vicious circle of pain and futility that robs people of the best parts of their lives.”

Bruce Springsteen and Ethel Cain: “We’re all daughters of Cain”

Ethel Cain: “Ethel Cain… But I definitely would say she’s less of an alter ego and more of what would happen if I was a terrible person. I always say that she’s a cautionary tale of what would happen if you gave in instead of trying to break the cycle of everything. She’s very scary and menacing and angry and resentful and very powerful, but very hardened.”

how do i break the cycle, mothercain?

mothercain: "prepare yourself for the absolutely insufferable lack of satisfaction found in forgiveness"

Ethel Cain: “You can’t change your past, nor anyone else’s, and the only real strength you have in this lifetime is your forgiveness.”

Adam Raised a Cain (Bruce Springsteen Live at The Paramount Theatre 2009)