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theetherealbloom · 3 days ago

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Your Love Feels Like A Sunday When You Got Nowhere To Go

Summary: You are Pedro’s date to the SNL 50 celebration as his newly engaged fiancée.

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Established Relationship, TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, Suggestive Content, little SMUT, PiV, Dirty Talk, Short but sweet smut, Slight Angst, Swearing, Anxiety, Surrounded by A-Listers, Dancing, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Red Carpet, Cameras, Paparazzi, Long Distance, Timezone Difference, Social Media, Interviews, I’m not a Spanish speaker, I might be wrong with the terms, please don’t come after me T^T,

Word Count: 5.8k

A/N: Hi! Yes, I am still working on It Could Happen To You. School is being a bitch and I’m just in a weird headspace rn lol. Anyway, since this is basically a series now… I’ll make a series masterlist for this soon tehe.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: Your Love by JISOO

PEDRO PASCAL MAIN MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST |

THE BOWERY HOTEL — DAY

You arrived a day before the taping of the SNL 50th anniversary show, the energy of New York buzzing all around you. But inside the hotel suite, it was just you and Pedro, wrapped up in a world of your own.

Sweet, romantic Pedro. The man who hadn’t stopped calling you wife since he slid that engagement ring onto your finger.

You twirled the sparkling diamond under the dim lighting, still not quite believing it was real. It had been just over a month since Pedro had proposed, and somehow, you were still catching yourself staring at it in disbelief.

From across the room, Pedro watched you, his lips curling into a smirk as he leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest.

“Caught you staring again,” he teased, voice warm with amusement.

You rolled your eyes playfully. “It’s new. Let me have my moment.”

He pushed off the doorway, crossing the room in a few strides before wrapping his arms around your waist. “It’s not new to me,” he murmured against your temple. “I’ve known you were mine for a long time.”

You sighed dramatically, tilting your head back to look at him. “I’m not your wife yet, Pascal.”

Pedro hummed, his nose brushing against your cheek as he whispered, “Hmm… nah. You are.”

You swatted at his chest, but the way his eyes twinkled made your heart melt.

“You’re impossible.”

He grinned. “And yet, you love me.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” you muttered, but the smile on your face betrayed you.

Pedro chuckled at your faux annoyance, his warm breath ghosting against your lips as he leaned in. “You’re so cute when you pretend to be mad at me,” he murmured, tilting your chin up with his fingers before capturing your lips in a deep, slow kiss.

You melted instantly, hands threading into his hair as his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him. The kiss grew hungrier, his lips moving against yours with a languid sort of urgency, like he was savoring every second.

His hands roamed—one resting on the small of your back, the other slipping beneath the hem of your robe, fingertips teasing against your bare skin. A soft hum escaped you as his mouth trailed along your jaw, down the curve of your neck.

And then it hit you.

“Wait—” You gasped, breathless, gently pushing at his chest. “We have lunch with Javiera.”

Pedro groaned dramatically, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. “Mierda.”

You giggled as he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his expression somewhere between frustration and mischief. “Did I forget to mention I invited her to watch you perform?”

“You did,” he huffed, pouting slightly. “And I love that she’s coming. I do. But do we have to be on time?”

You gave him a pointed look.

Pedro sighed, rolling his eyes playfully. “Fine. Fine.” He took a step back, raking a hand through his already tousled hair. “But just so you know, you owe me later.”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Owe you?”

“Oh, cariño.” His voice dropped to a sinful murmur as he trailed a slow finger down your arm. “Later tonight, I’m going to have my way with you.”

A shiver ran down your spine, but you smirked, smoothing your robe as if unaffected. “We’ll see about that, Pascal.”

His grin was full of promise. “Oh, we will.”

THE BOWERY HOTEL — AFTERNOON

Lunch with Javiera was set at a quiet corner table in the hotel's restaurant, a space that offered just enough privacy for a family catch-up without feeling too closed off. The scent of fresh bread and herbs lingered in the air as you sipped on a glass of chilled wine, the engagement ring on your finger catching the soft afternoon light.

Javiera beamed as she reached for your hand, examining the ring for what was probably the fifth time since you sat down. “It looks even better in person,” she said, her voice warm with affection. “I still can’t believe you two are finally engaged.”

Pedro, seated beside you, chuckled as he reached for a piece of bread. “Finally? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Javiera gave him a knowing look. “Oh, come on. Everyone saw this coming except you.”

You laughed, nudging Pedro playfully. “See? Told you.”

He huffed dramatically. “Unbelievable. My own sister conspiring against me.”

Javiera grinned, sipping her drink. “I’m just saying, I’ve seen the way you look at her. The way you talk about her when she’s not around. You’ve been a goner for a long time, hermano.”

Pedro didn’t even try to deny it. Instead, he turned to you, a soft smirk playing on his lips. “Guilty as charged.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart melted at the way he was looking at you. Before you could say anything, the waiter arrived with your meals, setting down plates of fresh seafood and warm pasta.

Javiera leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “So, have you two started thinking about the wedding?”

Pedro answered before you could. “She keeps saying she’s not my wife yet, but I don’t know… feels pretty official to me.”

You groaned. “Pedro.”

Javiera laughed, shaking her head. “He’s never going to let that go.”

Pedro grinned, cutting into his food. “Nope.”

You sighed dramatically, but you couldn’t hide your smile. “We haven’t talked about it too much yet. Everything’s been moving so fast. But we will.”

Javiera nodded in understanding. “Well, no matter what you decide, just know the entire family is already planning in their heads. Mom is probably dreaming up wedding decorations as we speak.”

Pedro groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Dios mío.”

You giggled, squeezing his hand under the table. “At least we know it’ll be a party.”

Javiera smirked. “A very loud one.”

As the lunch carried on, the conversation flowed effortlessly, filled with teasing, reminiscing, and warmth. The afternoon sun streamed in through the windows, casting a golden glow over the table, and you found yourself stealing glances at Pedro every now and then—marveling at the fact that this was your life now.

Engaged. In love. Surrounded by family.

And if Pedro had his way, he’d be calling you his wife a lot sooner than you expected.

THE BOWERY HOTEL — EVENING

After a long, exciting day, you and Pedro decided to call it an early night, opting for the comfort of your hotel room over any glamorous outings. Room service had just arrived, and the two of you sat on the plush bed, plates of warm pasta and glasses of wine spread out between you. The room was dimly lit, the soft golden glow of the bedside lamps casting a cozy warmth over everything.

Pedro swirled his wine glass lazily, leaning back against the headboard with a contented sigh. “This is perfect,” he murmured, glancing at you with the softest eyes. “No loud crowds, no cameras—just us.”

You grinned, taking a bite of your pasta before setting your fork down. “I still can’t believe you’re going to be on SNL again. It feels like just yesterday we were watching your first episode from our couch.”

Pedro chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, and I was nervous as hell back then.”

“You were incredible, though,” you said earnestly, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “And you’ll be even better this time. I’m so proud of you, Pedro. Not just for this, but for everything. For who you are.”

His ears tinged pink, and he let out a bashful laugh, shaking his head. “Stop, you’re gonna make me all emotional.”

“I mean it,” you insisted, scooting closer. “You work so hard, and you never let the pressure change who you are. That’s why people love you. That’s why I love you.”

Pedro set his wine glass aside and turned to face you fully, his expression melting into something unbearably tender. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he murmured, brushing his knuckles along your cheek. “But I thank whatever force in the universe brought you into my life every damn day.”

You smiled, warmth blooming in your chest. “You’re just saying that because I let you steal half my food.”

Pedro smirked, feigning innocence. “Who, me? Never.”

Before you could protest, his fingers darted to your waist, tickling you mercilessly. A shriek escaped your lips as you collapsed onto the bed, writhing in laughter. “Pedro! No—stop! I’m gonna spill the wine!”

He was laughing just as hard, his face split into the most joyful grin as he kept at it. “Not until you take back that accusation!”

Through uncontrollable giggles, you tried to escape, but he was relentless, his hands finding every ticklish spot. “Okay, okay! You’re innocent! You’re a saint!” you gasped between bursts of laughter.

Pedro finally relented, collapsing beside you, both of you breathless from laughing. You turned to face him, your eyes still shining with amusement, but the moment shifted as his gaze softened, darkening with something deeper. His hand brushed over your cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of your jawline.

“You really do mean the world to me,” he murmured, his voice hushed and full of emotion.

Your breath hitched as his lips met yours, slow and deliberate, the laughter between you fading into something softer, needier. His hand slid to the back of your neck, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, and you melted into him, sighing against his mouth. His body pressed against yours, the warmth of him seeping into your skin as he kissed you like he had all the time in the world.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging gently, and he groaned into your mouth, his hands roaming down your back, pulling you closer until there wasn’t an inch of space between you. The air grew thick, charged with heat and unspoken promises. Pedro’s lips trailed down your jaw to your neck, his teeth grazing your pulse point just enough to make you shiver.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and rough.

You exhaled shakily, tilting your head back as his hands explored, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, tracing slow circles over your bare skin. “Then maybe we should do something about it,” you whispered, your own hands sliding under his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin.

Pedro didn’t need to be told twice.

The moment your lips met, any remaining restraint melted away. His hands gripped your hips, fingers pressing into your skin like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go. The heat between you was intoxicating, a slow burn that built with every kiss, every teasing graze of his fingertips over your exposed skin.

His mouth was hungry, insatiable, devouring you with a passion that made your breath hitch. He kissed you like he’d been starving for you, like he was trying to drown himself in the taste of you. His tongue swept against yours, deep and slow, coaxing a soft whimper from your lips that only spurred him on.

“Fuck,” he groaned against your mouth, his voice thick with desire. “You have no idea what you do to me, cariño.”

You gasped as he rolled his hips against yours, the hard press of him igniting something primal deep within you. Your fingers fisted in the fabric of his shirt, desperate to feel more—more of him, more of his warmth, more of the intoxicating way he made your body feel like it was on fire.

“Then show me,” you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper, but Pedro heard it loud and clear.

His answering smirk was sinful. “Oh, I plan to.”

In one swift motion, he flipped you onto your back, settling between your legs. The weight of him pressed you into the mattress in the most delicious way, making you arch into him instinctively. His hands wandered, sliding beneath your shirt, fingertips skimming over your stomach before tracing a slow, teasing path upward.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin just beneath your jaw. “I’ll never get tired of looking at you. Touching you.”

You shivered under his touch as he pushed your shirt up higher, his fingers grazing over your bare skin with a maddening slowness. His lips followed, trailing soft, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, across your collarbone, lower and lower, until he reached the edge of your bra. He paused, glancing up at you with hooded eyes, silently asking for permission even now.

“Pedro,” you whined, your body arching toward him, desperate for more. “Please.”

That single word sent a visible shudder through him, his control hanging by a thread. “Fuck, baby,” he muttered before finally peeling your shirt off, his eyes darkening at the sight of you beneath him.

His lips were everywhere—on your throat, your shoulders, the swell of your breasts. He took his time worshipping you, his hands and mouth exploring every inch of exposed skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. The contrast of his rough stubble against your soft skin made you gasp, sending a delicious ache straight to your core.

“You’re killing me,” you murmured, your nails digging into his back as he teased you, his lips hovering just above where you needed him most.

Pedro chuckled, his breath hot against your skin. “Patience, mi amor.” But the way his voice wavered, the way his own body trembled against yours, told you he was just as desperate.

And then—finally—his mouth was on you, his kisses turning scorching, his hands gripping your thighs as he moved lower.

The next moments were a blur of pleasure, his name falling from your lips like a prayer, his touch unraveling you until you were nothing but gasps and moans beneath him. Every flick of his tongue, every slow grind of his hips against yours sent you spiraling higher and higher, until you shattered beneath him, trembling, breathless, completely undone.

Pedro didn’t stop. Not yet. He guided you through the aftershocks, whispering sweet praises against your flushed skin, his voice raw with love and desire. “That’s my girl,” he murmured. “So fucking perfect for me.”

When you finally opened your eyes, dazed and blissed out, Pedro was hovering above you, his gaze soft but filled with something deeper—something more than just desire.

“I love you,” he whispered, brushing damp hair away from your face. “Always.”

Your heart swelled, your body still humming with pleasure as you reached up to cup his cheek, running your thumb over the stubble there. “I love you too,” you murmured, pulling him down for a slow, languid kiss.

And as he wrapped you up in his arms, bodies tangled beneath the sheets, you knew—there was no place in the world you’d rather be.

THE NEXT DAY…

THE BOWERY HOTEL — AFTERNOON

The hotel room buzzed with energy, a symphony of laughter, light conversation, and the occasional pop of a hairspray bottle. Your glam team moved around you in a carefully choreographed dance, curling strands of hair, blending makeup, and adjusting the final touches of your red-carpet look. The air smelled of floral-scented powders and expensive serums, mixing with the faint, crisp scent of fresh linens from the open balcony door.

It was a beautiful afternoon in New York, golden sunlight pouring through the sheer curtains, casting a warm glow over everything. The excitement in the room was palpable—not just for the event, but for you.

“So,” one of the hairstylists, Bella, said with a teasing grin as she ran a brush through your hair, “how does it feel to be engaged to Hollywood’s most beloved man?”

You let out a soft laugh, glancing at yourself in the mirror as the makeup artist dusted a final touch of highlighter on your cheekbones. “Surreal, honestly. I keep waiting for someone to shake me awake and tell me it’s all a dream.”

Another stylist, Marie, chimed in, hands on her hips as she admired your nearly finished look. “Well, if it is a dream, you’re living in the most romantic one ever. That ring? Stunning. And the way he looks at you? Girl, you won.”

Your heart squeezed at her words, warmth blooming in your chest. You knew exactly what she meant—Pedro had a way of looking at you like you were his entire world, like nothing else mattered when you were in the same room. Even after all this time, it still made you breathless.

As if on cue, the door creaked open, and in walked Pedro, freshly showered, the scent of his cologne—a mix of cedar, citrus, and something undeniably him—filling the room. His tousled curls were still damp, his beard neatly trimmed, and he wore a fitted brown V-neck shirt that clung to him in all the right ways, paired with black dress pants that hugged his hips perfectly. A blazer hung over his arm, though from the easy smirk on his lips, he didn’t seem in any hurry to put it on.

And, of course, he was grinning.

“Talking about me?” he mused, his voice carrying that familiar playful lilt as he sauntered in, hands casually slipping into his pockets.

Your stylists all exchanged knowing looks before Bella smirked. “Oh, always.”

Pedro chuckled, then placed his hands on the back of your chair, leaning down so his face appeared beside yours in the mirror. His deep brown eyes flickered over your reflection, admiration evident in his gaze. “Damn, Hermosa…” His voice dropped lower, more reverent. “I might have to fight off every person at this event just to keep their eyes off you.”

Your stomach flipped at the intensity in his tone.

You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress the giddy smile tugging at your lips. “Smooth.”

“I’m serious,” he murmured, pressing a lingering kiss to your bare shoulder. The heat of his lips against your skin sent a shiver down your spine, your breath catching in your throat.

Marie let out a dreamy sigh. “Ugh. The romance.”

Pedro straightened, clapping his hands together with a playful grin. “Alright, alright. I’ll leave you all to it. Just needed to see my girl before we head out.”

But as he turned to leave, he caught your gaze in the mirror again, his expression softening into something deeper, something unspoken. And then—he winked.

A flutter of warmth spread through your chest, and you realized something.

No matter how many times you saw him, no matter how many times he looked at you like you were the only person in the world—you would never get used to it.

As the final touches were made, you finally stepped into your dress—a breathtaking gown that made you feel like a dream. It was an elegant yet modern off-the-shoulder number, the fabric a deep, rich shade that complemented your skin tone perfectly. The fitted bodice flattered your curves, while the flowing skirt trailed behind you like a soft cascade of silk.

You took a steadying breath, smoothing your hands down the fabric before turning toward the door—where Pedro was waiting.

He was already dressed in his full look, a classic black suit tailored to perfection, the crisp white dress shirt beneath unbuttoned at the collar just enough to drive you a little insane. His salt-and-pepper curls were styled just so, his beard neatly trimmed, and his warm brown eyes—those eyes that always made you feel like the only person in the room—were already locked on you.

And when you stepped into his view, his breath audibly hitched.

"Dios mío…" His voice was barely above a whisper, but you heard it, felt the weight of it settle deep in your chest.

A slow, smitten smile tugged at your lips. “You clean up pretty well yourself, Pascal.”

Pedro exhaled a dramatic sigh, placing a hand over his heart as he took a step closer. “Mi amor, if I wasn’t already planning to marry you, I’d be proposing again right now.”

You let out a breathless laugh, warmth blooming in your chest. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m serious.” His hands found your waist, his fingers brushing lightly over the fabric as he shook his head in disbelief. “I’ve never seen anyone more beautiful in my life. And I mean that. Completely. No exaggeration.”

Your throat tightened, emotions swelling too fast, too much, because—God, how did he do this to you? How did he make you feel so seen, so loved, so entirely his without even trying?

You swallowed hard, blinking up at him. “Pedro, you can’t say things like that.”

He frowned slightly, tilting his head. “Why not?”

“Because…” Your voice wavered, and you let out a soft, almost disbelieving laugh. “Because you’re going to make me cry.”

Pedro’s expression melted into something impossibly tender. “Oh, baby…” He cupped your face instantly, his thumb tracing along your cheek as he studied you, his own eyes glassy now. “Then let’s cry together. Because fuck, I love you so much, I don’t know what to do with it sometimes.”

Your breath hitched, a tear slipping free before you could stop it. Pedro caught it with his thumb, brushing it away before leaning in, pressing the gentlest kiss to your lips—like he was sealing in everything he couldn’t say.

You clutched his lapels, pulling him closer. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

Pedro huffed out a soft laugh, resting his forehead against yours. “You existed, mi amor. That’s all you ever had to do.”

A choked laugh left your lips as you shook your head. “You’re the most sickeningly romantic man alive.”

“And you love it,” he teased, his nose nudging against yours.

“I love you,” you corrected, voice barely above a whisper.

Pedro pulled back just enough to look at you fully, his expression so full of love, so full of everything that it made your chest ache. He took your hand in his, bringing it to his lips and kissing your engagement ring before intertwining your fingers.

“You ready?” you murmured, voice still thick with emotion.

He squeezed your hand, his gaze never leaving yours. “With you?” He smiled, soft and certain. “Always.”

And with that, you stepped out into the night, hand in hand, heart in heart, ready to take on the world—together.

ROCKEFELLER CENTER, STUDIO 8H — EARLY EVENING

The moment you stepped out of the car, camera flashes erupted like fireworks.

Pedro’s hand was warm in yours as you both made your way down the red carpet, stopping every few feet to pose for photos. Reporters called out his name, some calling yours, and you couldn’t help but feel a wave of nerves crash over you.

Pedro must have sensed it, because he squeezed your hand, leaning down to whisper, “Breathe, baby. I got you.”

And just like that, the tension melted away.

You reached the interview section, and almost immediately, Entertainment Tonight flagged you both down.

“Pedro! Congratulations on SNL’s 50th! And—oh my gosh, congratulations to both of you on the engagement!”

Pedro beamed, pulling you a little closer. “Thank you. Yeah, it’s been a hell of a year.”

The reporter turned to you. “How does it feel to be engaged to the Pedro Pascal?”

You laughed. “Honestly? Like dating a golden retriever with a credit card.”

Pedro clutched his chest dramatically. “Wow. Wow. Betrayed on live television.”

The reporter laughed. “Well, it’s clear you two are head over heels. Pedro, can we expect wedding bells soon?”

Pedro turned to you, his smile softening. “Whenever she’s ready. No rush. I just know she’s it for me.”

Your heart stuttered.

You turned back to the reporter, your own smile matching his. “Yeah. He’s it for me, too.”

And as the night went on, with the lights, the cameras, and the sea of Hollywood’s biggest stars surrounding you both, you knew—Pedro was right. You were already his.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

STUDIO 8H – SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE 50TH ANNIVERSARY SPECIAL

You loved watching Pedro perform on stage. It was one of your absolute favorite things. The way he commanded the room with effortless charisma, the way he delivered every line with that perfect balance of humor and sincerity, the way he owned the stage—he was a natural. An absolute force.

And really fucking funny.

Sitting in the audience, you could barely keep it together. The energy in the studio was electric, but nothing compared to the way your heart pounded watching him up there, in his element, making an entire room—hell, millions of people—laugh like it was the easiest thing in the world.

And then it happened.

The skit with Sabrina Carpenter had already been hilarious—Pedro leaning into his role, playing it up with exaggerated expressions and that perfect comedic timing that had everyone in stitches. But when the music kicked in and he suddenly started hip-thrusting into the air, fully committing to the bit with zero hesitation, your jaw unhinged.

“Oh. My. God,” you breathed, your entire body stiffening as your brain tried to process what you were seeing.

Javiera, sitting beside you, didn’t miss a thing.

“Are you—oh my God,” she cackled, smacking your arm. “You’re so done for.”

You barely registered her words because your entire world had narrowed down to him—Pedro, on stage, grinding the air like it was his job, all while belting out the ridiculous lyrics to the skit’s song.

Your face was on fire.

“Shut up,” you hissed, pressing your hands to your face in a weak attempt to cover how absolutely hot and bothered you were.

Javiera just laughed louder, fully reveling in your suffering. “No, no, no—don’t go all shy now! Own it, babe. That’s your fiancé up there.” She leaned in closer, lowering her voice just enough so only you could hear. “And let’s be real… if he’s that good at hip-thrusting in public—”

“Javiera!” you choked, shoving her while she doubled over in laughter.

You turned back to the stage just in time to catch Pedro glance toward the audience, his eyes scanning the crowd before they found you. And oh, the moment he locked onto your completely flustered, scandalized expression, his lips twitched into the smuggest smirk you’d ever seen in your life.

That bastard knew exactly what he was doing.

He winked.

You swore your soul left your body.

Javiera grabbed your arm, wheezing with laughter. “Oh, you’re in trouble tonight.”

And yeah. She was absolutely right.

You were in so much trouble.

But before you could even fully recover from the absolute chaos of Pedro’s hip-thrusting performance, the next skit rolled in—and it wrecked you all over again.

Pedro walked onto the stage, transformed.

His usual effortless charm was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a full-blown, committed hillbilly persona. He wore the most ridiculous wig, long and messy, nearly covering his eyes, and a graphic shirt that looked like it had seen better days. The second he opened his mouth, putting on that exaggerated twang and delivering his lines with painstakingly perfect comedic timing, you lost it.

Javiera was right there with you, grabbing your arm as she wheezed through her laughter. “Oh my God—look at him! I can’t—”

You could barely breathe. “Stop, I’m actually about to die.”

Onstage, Woody Harrelson and Kate McKinnon were trying—and failing—to keep straight faces as Pedro went all in on the character, telling some completely unhinged story about how the aliens had abducted him and taken a very inappropriate interest in his “hillbilly butt.”

And then came the moment—

Meryl Streep, Meryl fucking Streep, turned to Pedro, trying to deliver her line with composure, but Pedro—your Pedro—gave her this completely deadpan look, blinking beneath that ridiculous wig before delivering a line so absurdly timed, in that perfect hillbilly drawl, that Meryl Streep—the queen of acting herself—broke.

Her head dipped forward as she cracked up, covering her face, shaking her shoulders, and the entire audience erupted.

You lost your mind.

“Oh my God he just made Meryl Streep break character,” you gasped, gripping Javiera’s arm as you struggled to stay upright in your seat. “That’s it. That’s the peak. That’s the moment.”

Javiera shrieked through her laughter. “Your fiancé just made one of the greatest actors alive break on live TV. Babe, you won.”

Tears streamed down your face as you tried to pull yourself together, but Pedro kept going, doubling down on his character’s antics, sending the entire studio into absolute hysterics. The audience was howling, and you? You were on the verge of falling out of your damn seat.

To say you were proud of Pedro was the understatement of the century.

He was killing it.

And when the skit finally ended, the camera catching Pedro barely holding it together as Woody clapped him on the back and Meryl wiped away her tears of laughter, you saw it—that look he gave, that quick flicker of his eyes searching the audience, finding you.

And when he did?

He grinned.

That big, beautiful, unbelievably smug grin.

And you knew.

You were so in trouble tonight.

STUDIO 8H – LATER THAT NIGHT

After his skit, he’d barely disappeared backstage before returning to you, his face still slightly flushed from all the laughter and adrenaline. And just when you thought he couldn’t get any more irresistible, there he was—dressed in a plain white henley, the soft fabric stretching just right across his chest, his sleeves pushed up enough to show off those strong forearms.

And those glasses.

The square-framed ones that made him look ridiculously handsome, the ones that had your brain short-circuiting every time he wore them.

Oh, you were so done for.

Pedro slid back into his seat between you and Javiera, flashing you a small, knowing smile. His hand automatically found your thigh, squeezing lightly—just a touch, nothing inappropriate, but enough to send heat flooding through your body. You swore the bastard knew exactly what he was doing.

So you did what you knew would drive him crazy.

You turned to him, grabbed his face, and kissed him dizzy.

Pedro inhaled sharply through his nose, but he barely hesitated, responding immediately—his hand sliding up to your waist, fingers pressing in just enough to claim you, as if he wanted to pull you into his lap right then and there. His lips were warm, soft, and eager as they moved against yours, deepening the kiss just slightly. His thumb brushed over your ribs, and you felt the way his breath hitched, like he was fighting the urge to take things further.

Your fingers curled in the fabric of his henley as he kissed you like he needed you—slow, lingering, with an almost teasing edge.

Javiera groaned beside you. “Alright, you two, I am still here.”

You pulled away with a breathless laugh, Pedro’s lips still chasing yours even as you separated. His forehead rested against yours for a lingering second, and when he finally pulled back, he gave you that devastatingly soft look—the one that made your heart flip inside your chest.

“You keep kissing me like that, mi amor,” he murmured, his voice low and full of promise, “and I’m not gonna make it to the after-party.”

You smirked, letting your fingers trace along his jawline. “Who said we’re going to the after-party?”

Pedro’s eyes darkened ever so slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was holding back a smirk. He gave your thigh another squeeze, this time lingering a little longer.

But before he could say anything—

Paul fucking McCartney took the stage.

The first notes of Golden Slumbers filled the room, the familiar melody wrapping around you like something magic.

Pedro’s entire body shifted as if on instinct. His fingers laced through yours, squeezing tight, before pulling you up with him.

“You’re dancing with me,” he murmured, voice low and full of emotion, his breath brushing against your ear as he wrapped an arm around your waist.

“You act like I’d ever say no.”

Pedro chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your skin as he held you close. His other hand settled at the small of your back, guiding you effortlessly as he swayed you in slow, easy circles.

His touch was everywhere—warm, solid, grounding. You let yourself melt against him, your cheek resting against his chest as the music carried you both away.

“Once there was a way… to get back homeward…”

Pedro hummed softly against your temple, his voice low, affectionate. You felt the way his arms tightened around you, the way his fingers traced lazy circles against your spine.

“You have no idea how much I love you,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion.

Your throat tightened. “I think I do.”

His lips brushed your forehead. “You’re everything to me.”

You closed your eyes, letting the moment sink in, letting his words settle in your heart like something precious.

As Carry That Weight began, the crowd’s energy shifted—cheers, laughter, voices singing along. Pedro lifted your hand, spinning you gently before pulling you right back into his arms.

You laughed, breathless, the warmth in his eyes making you weak. “You’re gonna make me cry.”

Pedro’s hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones with so much tenderness. “I love you,” he whispered. “More than I know how to say.”

And that was it.

You surged forward, pressing your lips to his, letting the kiss speak for you. It was soft, full of love and something deeper—something that felt like forever. Pedro kissed you back just as sweetly, his fingers threading into your hair, holding you close as if he never wanted to let go.

As The End played, the final notes echoing through the studio, you held onto Pedro like he was your whole world.

Because he was.

923 notes · View notes

westside-rot · 28 days ago

Text

Therapy Hours

Pairing: husband!terry richmond x black fem!reader

Words: 3.7k words

Summary: Terry seeks comfort from the only person who can give it to him.

Notes: Minors DNI. Smut, oral: fem receiving (0ver-stimulation) and cursing. Light by my standards lol. I had to force myself to stop revising this so please forgive any errors. I'll find em eventually and fix it. 😭 In the future I plan on alternating between fluff and smut so the next one should be fluffy/angsty.

Here's a visual of the position used. Not quite the same but close enough 👀: *nsfw pic link* *link #2*

Also please don't repost this on any other sites. Reblogs/comments/likes make me happy.

Tags: @megamindsecretlair @melaninpov

Something isn’t right. You look over to the side and discover the space occupied by your husband is empty. He was there a moment ago, proud and silent in his admiration for you while you sat mesmerized by the view. This picnic was the culmination of a month-long struggle to find balance with work and each other. All you cared about was reconnecting with him in a garden straight out of a fairytale for as long as possible, forever if you had it your way. Now he was nowhere to be found.

You rationalize his absence by assuming he must’ve forgotten something in the car. Likely an item you’d noticed earlier and convinced yourself not to purchase. Satisfied with your answer you lay back on your thick cotton blanket face to the infinite stretch of blue, uninterrupted by clouds with your arms and legs stretched out in opposite directions as far they'll comfortably reach. That’s when you notice the dress you’d been wearing has somehow vanished as well. You don’t bother pursuing logic this time. It’s beautiful outside and warmed to the ideal temperature for sunbathing. Now you’re a part of that beauty, perfectly made and carefree.

The sun’s warmth penetrates your brown skin and you relax into a gratified acceptance with your eyes closed and a smile on your face. A breeze grazes your skin. You part your legs to it exploration. It's subtle at first then harder as it sweeps up your legs and fixates on your intimate parts. You moan as your hips begin to move in a sensual dance interrupted by something you can’t name. Then you realize the golden reddish hue behind your eyelids is gone. It's dark, darker than it should be for the time of day. You find it impossible to care with so much pleasure running through your system. It doesn’t matter who or what is responsible for your predicament. They can keep you so long as they promise never to stop.

The unknown force answers with more delicious suction. It draws your body into a tight arch and pulls the breath from your lungs. Breathing is pointless where you’re headed. While your brain can’t fathom the destination, it doesn’t get in the way of supplication once you're finally pushed over the edge.

"Terry..." You moan the name forever present in your heart and mind. His location is still unknown, you trust him to always find you.

"I’m here love." The voice is muffled. You recognize its owner the second you hear it. The pleasurable void you’ve fallen into rematerializes as soft sheets against your back. Everything else gradually comes into focus, your husband's massive hands anchored on your waist, the prick of his facial hair as his tongue and lips move along your slick folds made warm by each labored breath he takes. Your eyes reset themselves forward as you attempt to reorient your place in the real world, a simple task made difficult by his unwillingness to pull his tongue from your drenched hole. Delirious but still guided by habit you manage to catch sight of the alarm clock on your nightstand. 3:00am.

"Shit…We have to be up in a few more hours--" Your hands act in contradiction to your words, pulling him in closer by the neck to keep him on the right spot. "Baby..."

"I know." He flattens his tongue against your clit and latches on. You realize he's responding to the urgency in your voice and not the truth you’re attempting to speak.

Where your first orgasm was tempered by your dream, the second attacks your senses at full force. His strong capable hands absorb the shock as they hold you in place. It's several minutes before your thrashing subsides to gentle undulations from the heavy breaths passing through your body. His fingers knead the flesh around your waistline. Even though his lips are still dangerously close to your pussy you feel more like the wife he’s attempting to soothe and less like the midnight snack you've been made into. You melt among the pillows with your eyes closed one hand loosely cradling the back of his head, the other bent and draped across your face as he makes out with your inner thighs. It takes you a while to recover your voice, a little longer to remember what you intended to say next.

"What’s wrong papa? Did your regret for not playing with me earlier finally wake you up?”

He doesn’t speak right away. The answer reaches you in the silence long before his words give confirmation.

"I’d take regret over these dreams I keep having. They’re getting worse."

Six months ago, Terry nearly lost his life attempting to protect his cousin. His outer wounds have healed up nicely. It's the scars left on his soul that provoke your bloodlust. If you had your way those piece of shit cops would’ve received their karma long before the worst happened. Mike would be alive. The man you love, a man accustomed to sleeping peacefully by your side every night wouldn’t be routinely attacked by demons you couldn’t see.

Most nights you’re promoted to the role of big spoon. You hate the circumstances, but it settles the panic in your heart to hold your mountain of a man in your arms and grant him the protection he’s given you over the years. Tonight, he's found a different way to cope, a method worth keeping in your toolbelt even if it means resembling a zombie for the rest of the day.

"Baby I’m sorry. You should’ve woken me up." You reach down to massage his ears with both thumbs before attempting to bring him to eye level. He resists by nuzzling his face in your thigh.

"Technically I did wake you up." He mumbles, filtering kisses between increasingly labored breaths. The path his lips are taking force you into a conundrum. Press the issue or trust his methods. Brains weren’t meant to work this hard at this hour. It’s cruel and unfair when you realize Terry isn’t weighted down by the same predicament. Every time his breath passes over your sensitive lips you feel your logic slipping further away. He’s giving you a reason to forget and move on. You’re also his wife. The one person on this shitty planet he can always rely on, the only person crazy enough to sacrifice a third orgasm so close after the second to protect his heart from the lie he was attempting to maintain.

You find a compromise in the minute that passes, maybe two. It’s hard to separate the details when he’s making every attempt to bury his face in your pussy. You struggle to be assertive. It’s the desperation in your voice when you say his name that eventually gets him to lift his head.

The room is dark, the moonlight casts a glow across the top half of his face just enough to see his eyes. He reminds you of a sad puppy being chastised for something they don’t understand. The expression breaks your heart and makes you smile as you stroke his jawline, your upturned lips on full display to match his sad look.

“I need to make sure you’re okay and not telling me what you think I need to hear. We deal with this together. Not apart.”

He nods and turns his face into your hand to kiss your palm. There's an uncomfortable silence in the room, but you remain patient, resisting the urge to pry the answer from his now visibly tense body.

“I dreamed I lost you.” His delayed response is both a relief and heartbreaking as the previous dreams he’s shared replay in your mind. All include some variation of him being imprisoned. None include a happy ending for him or for Mike. Leaning down to kiss the top of his head, you mimic his vice like hold once he buries his face in your stomach.

Regret mixes with the anger you were already struggling to contain. It fills the room, ensnaring you in contradictory thoughts. Sit on his face to make you both feel better or do what Terry refused to and murder the men responsible for making him feel anything less than a hero, for desecrating the space in his heart reserved for the people he loved. You could only really be mad at yourself for pressing the issue. Orgasms were a far better reward than listening to the gruesome details of your presumed demise. Given what he's been through your mind takes you to the worse possible options. You’re prepared to listen but aren’t sure how you'll get back to sleep afterward this.

"Nothing is going to happen to me." You soothe him with more kisses and tender reassurances. He answers with a tighter grip like he’s expecting something to challenge your words.

"We fought about everything…” He starts. You prepare for the story to get progressively worse. “One day you show up with some random ass light skinned fucker with a crooked hairline. I’m thinking he’s the new gardener only to find out you’re leaving me for him. You kicked me out. Had me sleeping in a tent in the backyard while some bum ass bitch wore my clothes and fucked my wife. Losing you is one thing. Losing you to a leprechaun who can’t grow a proper beard is bullshit."

You were anticipating having your throat slashed or a hole torn in your chest by a monster you couldn’t outrun. This was somehow worse because Terry was dead serious yet nothing he said warranted a serious response.

"Ok, first of all, you’re light skinned too."

Clearly you were being tested and failing miserably. You'd taken a deep breath in the hopes of drawing something positive and meaningful into your thoughts. All you managed to do was bring up a past hilarious debate about him being caramel and not chocolate like he proclaimed himself to be. Terry’s head shot up like someone had lit a fire underneath him. You can feel him staring you down and instantly crack under the pressure.

"Be serious woman."

The poor man is clearly traumatized. You bite down on your cheek for his sake before giving him a direct view of your face, wide eyed and filled with doctored innocence that crumbles by the second. “I’m trying!” You fuss. “But you’re being awfully specific about this man's appearance."

"I saw the fucker clear as day like I’ve seen him before…I’m taking you to work. Might even stay just to be safe."

The conviction in his voice tells you not to brush off his words. You can imagine him now posted up in your office surveying the area. He wouldn’t hover or say much, his domineering presence and chiseled muscles on full display would guarantee no woman within a 30-mile radius was productive. You would be at the top of the list. Unlike half the women in your office you had zero decorum in your husband’s presence. The last thing you needed were your colleagues gossiping about you getting fucked in your office.

"My dear sweet husband aren’t you being a little unreasonable?” Posing the question in a song doesn’t have the desired effect. It merely gives him a reason to frown harder.

"Hell no. I’m not taking anything for granted anymore, especially when it pertains to you. Far as I’m concerned this was a message from God to protect my home.”

There’s plenty to laugh at. Even less to challenge. You were looking at your answered prayer, a literal message from God to prove men like Terry weren’t a fantasy. This one was real and more than you could’ve hoped for. In honor of that gift you smile and nod in agreement and prepare to be followed everywhere.

“I can’t say you’re wrong. I can tell you no one at work fits the description.” He ponders while you stroke his neck. He isn’t silent for long.

“He could be a new security guard or the person delivering the mail."

"Mhm, I could forgive the wrinkles in a UPS uniform. Something about those brown shorts makes me feral. I’m getting wet thinking em." The laugh you’ve been holding sputters from you, putting tears in your eyes.

Terry sucks his teeth and gestures to raise up completely. He doesn’t get far when you throw your arms around his neck. He grunts but lets you have your way. "It's not funny."

"You’re right baby. It's not. Dream me is a dumb ass bitch. I’d never leave you, especially not for an obviously unattractive man with tiny feet and a crooked hair line. You’re so pretty daddy. No one with sense would ever look anywhere else." You lean forward to coax a smile from him with a kiss. You feel his jaw loosen and his fingers grip up your ass. "I love you."

All the humor in your voice is gone, replaced with an unmistakable sincerity that eases Terry back to the calm levelheaded man he's always been. "You’re taking the necessary steps to heal. It's not something you'll ever forget but you’re going to be okay. We both are. The fact we can laugh about any of this is progress. Now I’ll promise to keep my sidepiece out the house you pay bills in if you promise not to stalk me from the parking lot."

He chuckles. "Promise."

It's nearly 4am. In two more hours you'll have to be up for work. Hardly enough time for a decent rest but your body will hate you if you don’t try to get back to sleep. You kiss your husband one last time and gently lay a hand on his chest to pull away only to be met with resistance.

"Wait. I still need to prove it to myself."

"Prove what baby?"

“That you won’t give up on me. That I won’t lose you." He speaks against your lips, his voice moving through you like the low rumble before a storm. It stirs up the lust cast aside for his benefit. You feel it in your belly and everywhere his tongue has been. The energy in the room changes with the dark look in his eyes. He drinks you in saying nothing and everything with his calculated gaze. Awareness pricks at your skin off the strength of his possession moves. Then his hands are on you, lowering your arms from around his neck to your sides. He seizes your waist and hums as if contemplating something. Before you can ask the question, you lose the words in the swift rearrangement on to your stomach. You gasp from the shock while the rest of you uses all your energy to push against the sturdy fingers holding your wrists down. Freedom isn’t your goal. You resist solely to reinforce his dominance and feed your desire to test his nature. You want him to stake his claim and issue a warning to anyone daring to look in your direction even if the rival in question is a phantom conjured up by his subconscious.

Handcuffs aren’t an option for obvious reasons. You wonder if binding your hands together with rope will achieve the same shuddering response to being cloaked with his weight. You’re completely helpless and content to stay right where you are, one with mattress, one with him.

"Say you'll never leave me." His warm breath passes over your ear before his teeth sink down on flesh.

"I'll never leave you." You whisper back, moaning appreciatively when he kisses down the column of your neck down between your shoulder blades. His hands aren’t pinning you down anymore, but you try your best not to move as his tongue traces a warm and agonizingly slow line down your spine to your ass.

"I’ve never taken a life. I will if it means keeping you safe…You belong to me " Terry had taken down an entire police force without sending anyone to hell where they belonged. It was comical to think a man she never met; a man who didn’t exist could provoke him to use lethal force. The unexpected sting of teeth clamping down on your backside jolts you out of your musing. He's fully awake now, unfettered by slumber and past traumas. He doesn’t need to be gentle or ask for permission. The pain from that discovery offers an indescribable contribution to the pleasure you’ve experienced thus far. You can’t distinguish the two anymore the harder he bites.

"Yes." It's an reiteration and an apology for earlier all wrapped up in jarring acceptance. This isn’t the man you fell asleep next to hours ago. You aren’t the same either. His influence has unlocked a part of your brain that craves the pain and the pleasure it brings. If branding you with his teeth will bring him peace you want that too.

You moan and arch toward your captor’s mouth. He answers the invitation with a growl, yanking you on to your knees, driving your face into the comforter to deepen the arch in your back. You’re already spread obscenely open. He spreads you further with his thumbs and stops moving. He’s probably smiling in that subtle way you catch when he thinks no one’s watching. This isn’t quite the same. He's taunting you with proximity, close enough to feel the heat from his breath, far enough away to create an ache only he could soothe.

"Please." He's reduced you to this, folded in half and shameless in your attempts to reach his mouth. When he does finally lick his way inside everything else in the world melts away.

He's merciful but also deliberate in the way flattens the wide breadth of his tongue along the length of you, slurping you up like ripe fruit he intends to savor. All you can do is shudder and mewl as he groans into your slick heat, rubbing his face in it, masking himself with your scent. The message isn’t for you. It's for him. You hope it soothes the disquiet in his heart the way it's cleared out the baggage in your mind. All thoughts lead back to him, the thorough way he draws tight circles over your clit and the depths he reaches as he simulates the way he would fuck you if he had the willpower to trade places with his tongue.

He makes himself comfortable, stretching out his legs alongside your writhing body. His ankles provide a stable anchor for trembling hands. Then they’re caging you in, limiting your range of movement.

The sheets absorb your screams as you cum without warning and no sign it’ll end any time soon. You push toward his face at the same rate you pull away. Escape isn’t the goal. It's the only proper response to sensory overload. Indescribably good and too much to handle all at once. Terry is right there with you, latched on and undeterred by your frenetic movements, grunting indecipherable praise despite the pressure your thighs have placed on his ears. At this rate you’re going to claw the sheets to shreds or beat a hole in the mattress. Then he's putting his entire body into it, crossing his ankles behind your head to lock you in place.

Weeks ago, you expressed an interest in learning Jiu-Jistu. You expected detailed commentary while you observed from the sidelines or watched a video. This wasn’t how you envisioned your first lesson or any lesson. You weren’t even sure if this was a legit move or something he’d improvised. The absurdity of it doesn’t register correctly in your mind. Instead you’re grateful, grateful for his strength, for his persistence, for his ability to find healing through forced orgasms even it’s obvious he’s lost his mind in the process. Unlike the dream version you take your vows seriously. You accept Terry at his best and his worst, through nightmares and a demonic possession.

Panic opens your mind to a ridiculous thought. He's going to kill you. The irrational part of your brain is convinced you won’t survive another orgasm. You can’t bring yourself to resist the rapid strumming on your clit and the spike in pleasure it produces. You’d gladly give your life for it. Leave earth with a smile on your lips and a memory worth immortalizing in the afterlife. To call your bluff Terry brings his thumb from your fluttering hole to the soft flesh of your ass. He prolongs the suspense with teasing swipes around the rim then very slowly pushes through your defenses when he feels you’re ready for it. Something in your brain malfunctions. You start to whine like a caught animal. They’re the kind of sounds you’d find embarrassing if you weren’t in the presence of a grown ass man.

The last thing you hear before you explode is Terry’s deep voice in your ear. "Good girl."

When you return to consciousness, you’re still face down with a damp spot under your cheek and under your pelvis. Terry is stretched across your back crooning in your ear about how proud he is of you, how beautiful you are, how in love with you he is. His touch is equally soothing as he trails down your forearms to interlock your fingers. You haven’t stopped trembling. It’s worse in your legs. Even the slightest movement revives the memory of where his tongue has been. You find comfort in the fetal position anyway. Terry is right there to reinforce the hold, cradling you with his entire body so he doesn’t lose you in the subspace you’ve drifted off to. When the consequence of his overindulgence subsides to a light shudder you feel his coiled lips at your temple.

“Are you proud of yourself?”

“Maybe.” He drawls, the pride evident in his voice. “You’re still shaking baby. Are you good? Did I hurt you?

“Of course you didn’t. I’m a little floaty but I kinda want you to break me again--just to make sure I like it.” You offer a lazy smile and reach back to scratch his cheek. "What about you? Are you finally convinced I won’t run off with your ugly ass replacement?”

His laughter sounds like music. You wonder how he can find the joy in anything with his stiff dick left unattended and drooling precum on your backside. It’s all you can think about now.

"I am."

"Good because it’s never going to happen. I’m also not going to work today. I can’t function like this." Despite your predicament you use the distraction to your advantage and raise your thigh to accommodate him. A little maneuvering slots the tip between your lips but doesn't quite make it inside. You whimper and try again.

“No. You’ve had enough sweetheart.” You’re more than a little disappointed when he pushes your legs shut.

“I can keep going. Let me take care of you.”

“You have taken care of me baby.” A kiss is all it takes to end your pouting. Like a greedy brat, you twist around to claim another, then one more to sample your flavor on his lips. His dick stirs against you, it doesn’t persuade him to be anything less than noble. “I plan on keeping you in this bed all day. Get some rest. I’ll have you later.”

Terry’s demeanor remains unchanged as he realigns your back to his chest and slips is muscled leg over your restless ones. He’s given you a preview, a reminder, and a warning. You aren’t sure how well you’ll sleep knowing what you know but you snuggle up to his arm tucked beneath the pillow.

“I love you.”

Those three words calm the restlessness in your heart and get you to shut your eyes.

"I love you too handsome. Try not to dream about me."

#Rosegold fics #terry richmond fic #x black reader #terry richmond x black oc #terry richmond smut #fanfiction

338 notes · View notes

fear-less · 2 months ago

Note

Don't really have a solid request but how about the ball lol literally no request just more like a prompt lol

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 tangled up with you all night

pairing: fred weasley x f!reader

➥ In which, you and fred go to the yule ball and end the night with a bang (almost literally)

warnings: fluff, it gets smutty but they don't do it, establish relationship, pretend the opposite gender can go into the dorms for this…, pet names, lots of snogging…., bad writing near the end..!

a/n: i was planning on writing smut but gave up bc i lowkey can't write smut for the life of me, that's why i have like 3 posts containing smut i fear.. lowkey gave up at the end, so another cliffhanger?????? sorry in advanced if there's any errors..

3.8k words

The Great Hall shimmered with the glow of a thousand enchanted candles as students milled about in their finest dress robes, their laughter and chatter mixing with the soft hum of magical music. The Yule Ball had transformed Hogwarts into a winter wonderland, and the air was alive with excitement.

You stood at the edge of the hall, smoothing down the fabric of your dress and glancing around nervously. Even though you’d been dating Fred Weasley for a few months now, the butterflies in your stomach still hadn’t gotten the memo. He had promised to meet you here, but you couldn’t help feeling a little self-conscious as you waited.

“Looking for someone, love?” came a familiar voice from behind you. You turned to see Fred, his signature grin lighting up his face. He was wearing deep maroon dress robes that should have looked ridiculous but somehow suited him perfectly. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he held out a hand to you.

“You clean up nicely,” you teased, taking his hand.

“And you look absolutely stunning,” he said, his voice softer as he pulled you closer. His gaze lingered on you for a moment, and you felt heat rise to your cheeks.

“Shall we?” he asked, gesturing towards the dance floor.

You nodded, letting him lead you into the throng of students. The music shifted to a lively waltz, and Fred spun you effortlessly, his hand firm on your waist. You couldn’t help but laugh as he exaggerated his movements, drawing amused glances from your classmates.

“Fred, you’re going to make me trip,” you protested, though you were grinning.

“Nonsense,” he said, twirling you again. “If you fall, I’ll catch you. That’s what dashing boyfriends are for, isn’t it?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the warmth that spread through your chest at his words. Despite his joking demeanor, Fred’s grip was steady, his movements confident. He had a way of making you feel like the only person in the room.

As the song ended, Fred dipped you dramatically, earning a smattering of applause from a group of Gryffindors nearby. You laughed as he pulled you upright, his cheeks slightly flushed but his grin unwavering.

“You’re impossible,” you said, shaking your head.

“And yet you love me for it,” he quipped, leaning in to brush a kiss against your temple.

The night passed in a blur of laughter and dancing. Fred kept you on your toes, whether by sneaking snacks from the refreshment table or convincing you to join him in an impromptu snowball fight in the courtyard. He was a whirlwind of energy, but he always made sure to keep you close, his hand never straying far from yours.

After a particularly lively polka that left you both breathless and laughing, Fred led you off the dance floor. "Time for a break?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Definitely,” you replied, fanning yourself with your hand. “I think my feet are going to protest if we keep going.”

“Feet or no feet, you’re a brilliant dancer,” he said, grabbing two glasses of pumpkin juice from a passing tray. He handed you one, his fingers brushing against yours. “You’ve got to teach me your secret.”

“Secret?” you asked, taking a sip of the cool drink. “You’re the one who’s been leading.”

“Ah, but you’re the one who makes it look good,” he said with a wink.

The two of you wandered to the edge of the hall, finding a quieter corner to sit and watch the other students. Fred pointed out some of the more amusing pairs on the dance floor, his commentary making you laugh until your sides ached.

“Okay, but look at Neville,” Fred said, nudging you gently. Neville Longbottom was valiantly attempting to dance with Ginny, who was clearly trying to guide him through the steps. “Bless him, he’s got the enthusiasm. Not so sure about the rhythm, though.”

“He’s doing his best,” you said, though you couldn’t hide your smile.

“And that’s all that matters,” Fred agreed. He leaned closer to you, his shoulder brushing against yours. “As long as you’re having fun, nothing else really matters, does it?”

“No, it doesn’t,” you said softly, turning to look at him. The warmth in his gaze made your heart skip a beat.

As the evening wore on, Fred’s antics continued to delight you. At one point, he conjured a handful of enchanted mistletoe and tried to sneak it above the heads of unsuspecting couples. When Professor McGonagall caught him, she gave him a stern look that only made him laugh harder.

“You’re incorrigible,” you said, shaking your head as he returned to your side, still chuckling.

“And you’re still here, so what does that say about you?” he teased, slipping his arm around your waist.

The two of you eventually found yourselves on a quiet balcony overlooking the snow-covered grounds. The music and laughter from the Great Hall were a faint hum in the background. Snowflakes drifted lazily from the sky, catching in Fred’s hair and on the shoulders of his robes.

Fred draped his cloak over your shoulders, his arm curling around your waist. “Having fun?” he asked, his voice softer now.

“The best,” you said, leaning into him. “Thank you for tonight, Fred.”

He tilted his head to look at you, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “I’d do anything to see you smile like that,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

Your breath hitched at the tenderness in his gaze. Before you could respond, he closed the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was warm and sweet and everything you’d ever dreamed of.

When he pulled back, his grin was back in place. “So, I think I’ve earned the title of Best Boyfriend yet?”

You laughed, resting your forehead against his. “You’ve more than earned it, Fred Weasley.”

He beamed, pulling you closer as snow began to fall softly around you. In that moment, with Fred by your side and the world fading away, everything felt perfect. The two of you stayed there for a while, talking in hushed tones about everything and nothing. Fred shared a few outrageous stories about the twins' latest prank ideas, and you told him about your hopes and dreams for the future. It was a moment suspended in time, just the two of you against the backdrop of the magical evening.

As you sat there, the distant sounds of the ball began to fade. Fred glanced up at the stars, his hand still holding yours. "You know," he said, "nights like this don't come often. But with you, every day feels like it could be just as magical."

You smiled, resting your head on his shoulder. "You always know the right thing to say, don't you?"

"It's a talent," he said with a mock-serious tone, earning a laugh from you. "But really, I mean it. You're… well, you're brilliant. And not just for putting up with me."

"Putting up with you is the easy part," you teased. "It's keeping up with you that's the challenge."

He chuckled, pulling you closer. "Lucky for me, you're the only one who can."

As the night drew to a close, Fred walked you through the quiet corridors of Hogwarts, the sounds of the ball fading behind you. The soft crunch of snow underfoot was the only noise, adding to the serene feeling of the moment. Fred's hand never left yours, his touch warm and comforting against the cool night air.

"You know," Fred murmured, his voice low, as he glanced at you, "I’m really glad we had tonight. It was perfect."

You smiled, squeezing his hand, the warmth of his fingers against yours making your heart beat faster. "It really was."

As you neared the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, Fred stopped suddenly, his body turning toward you, and his eyes locked onto yours with a kind of heat that made your breath hitch. There was something in his gaze tonight—something different, something deeper.

"Stay safe, yeah?" he asked, his voice low and rough, like he was holding back. "I’d hate to think of anything happening to you after a night like this."

You teased, your voice softer than usual, a slight breathlessness in your words. "You worry too much."

"I don’t think I can help it when it comes to you," he said, his hand rising to brush the side of your face. His thumb traced the curve of your jaw, a slow, deliberate touch that sent a shiver down your spine.

You felt the air between you thickening, charged with an undeniable tension. For a moment, you just stood there, staring at each other, unable to look away. The heat between you two was palpable now, the kind of closeness that made everything else fade into the background.

"I’ll be fine, Fred," you whispered, but your voice faltered, and the words felt hollow against the current that was pulling you closer to him. "But I’d rather you stay."

Fred didn't speak right away. Instead, his thumb traced your lower lip, sending a surge of warmth through you. His eyes flickered down to your lips before locking onto your gaze again, the air between you thickening with unspoken desire.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice a soft rasp.

You could feel his hand on your neck, his fingers threading through your hair, and before you could respond, his lips were on yours, soft but insistent. The kiss was slow at first, testing, gentle. But as your bodies moved closer, the kiss deepened, and you felt the heat between you intensifying.

Fred gently guided you back, his hands resting on your waist as he led you toward the nearby bed. The back of your knees hit the edge, and in one swift but tender motion, Fred pushed you softly onto the mattress, hovering above you. His lips never left yours, and you could feel the warmth of his body against yours, the closeness making your heart race.

The kiss was a beautiful mix of passion and tenderness, each moment heightening the connection between you two. He pulled back just enough to look down at you, his expression serious now but filled with affection.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face.

You smiled up at him, your hands resting on his chest. “So are you.”

There was a pause, the two of you just looking at each other, your breath coming a little faster. You felt his thumb trace the curve of your jaw, the simple touch sending shivers down your spine.

“You make me feel… different, in the best way,” Fred said, his voice hushed, full of sincerity.

You didn't respond at first, still lost in the lingering sensation of the kiss you two had just shared. The taste of him was still fresh on your lips, your heart racing with a mixture of excitement and warmth. The way his lips had pressed against yours, so gentle at first, then deepening with a hunger that had made your whole body respond—it was as though the world had narrowed down to just the two of you.

"Are you still there?" Fred's voice broke through the haze of your thoughts, his tone teasing, but there was a softness in his gaze that made your heart flutter.

You blinked, finally bringing yourself back to the present. Looking into his eyes, you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak just yet. His smirk grew, and before you could catch your breath, he leaned in again, this time with more intent. His lips met yours in a kiss that was far more urgent than the first. It wasn’t just a kiss now—it was as though he couldn’t get enough of you, his hands moving to cup your face as he deepened the kiss.

The world seemed to slip away again, the only sound in your ears, the steady rhythm of your breathing, the pounding of your hearts. You could feel the warmth of Fred’s body against yours, the heat of him pressing you back into the softness of the bed beneath you. His hands slid down your arms, tracing your skin with a light touch that made you shiver. You responded instinctively, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, if that was even possible.

His kiss became more demanding now, his lips moving with a passion that matched the storm swirling inside you. You could feel his pulse in sync with yours, the chemistry between you undeniable. Every touch, every movement, seemed to carry a deeper weight, a silent promise of something more. But you weren’t rushing. Neither of you were. This moment, this connection, was something worth savoring.

Fred’s hand moved slowly down your side, and for a moment, you froze—unsure whether you were ready to take this step, but then, he paused, his forehead resting against yours, and you could feel him searching your face for any sign of hesitation.

"Is this okay?" he whispered, his breath warm against your lips. The tenderness in his voice made your heart swell, and you found yourself nodding. There was no rush, no pressure, just the two of you, letting the moment unfold at its own pace.

"Yes," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper, but the certainty in your words made his eyes soften.

With a soft smile, Fred leaned in again, his kiss gentle, yet full of everything unspoken. His hands cupped your face again, holding you tenderly as though you were something precious, something he never wanted to lose. You melted into him, your body responding as if it had always known where it belonged—right here, in his arms.

As the kiss deepened again, your world spun in a dizzying, blissful swirl of emotions. You could feel his heart thundering in his chest, and yours followed in perfect time. His hands roamed, slow and deliberate, and with each touch, each whisper of his lips against yours, you felt the bond between you growing stronger.

And then, as you pulled back slightly, both of you breathing heavily, you rested your forehead against his, the world outside seeming to disappear entirely.

"I never want this night to end," Fred murmured, his voice rough and full of emotion.

"Me neither," you replied, your voice steady but filled with the depth of feeling that you could no longer keep hidden.

Still deep in the kiss, the two of you lost track of time. Your pulse raced, each touch igniting a warmth that spread through your entire body. But then, reluctantly, Fred pulled away, his lips lingering just above yours for a moment longer before he slowly opened his eyes.

You sighed, a soft whine escaping your lips at the sudden emptiness that followed his kiss. His gaze softened as he looked down at you, his expression a mix of tenderness and concern. There was something in his eyes, a silent question, as if asking if you were okay. You nodded, your heart hammering in your chest, and he seemed to understand, his lips curling into a small, reassuring smile.

"Are you sure?" he murmured, his voice quiet but steady, his hand brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

You nodded again, your hands finding his and squeezing gently. "I'm sure."

Fred's smile deepened, and with a slow but deliberate motion, he moved to carefully unzip the back of your dress, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, but there was no hurry in his movements. He took his time, his gaze focused on you, as if savoring the moment.

The dress fell away, leaving you in your undergarments. Fred’s eyes flickered up to meet yours, his breath catching slightly. He didn’t say anything at first, just letting the silence stretch between you two. His fingers hovered over the hem of his own robes, and you noticed the teasing glint in his eyes as he took a step back.

"Patience, love," Fred said with a playful smirk, his voice low and full of warmth. "You’ll have all the time in the world."

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, your heart beating faster as his words hung in the air. It wasn’t frustration, though, not really. It was anticipation—everything felt heightened, the connection between you two growing deeper with every passing second.

"You're impossible," you teased softly, but there was no real annoyance in your tone. You only wanted more of him, more of this moment, but you could feel the power in his calmness. The way he moved, how he made you feel—like everything was on his terms, yet somehow he always made you feel cherished.

"I know," Fred said with a grin, stepping closer again, his fingers brushing against your arm as he gently guided you to sit back on the bed. "But you’re the one who keeps me on my toes, aren’t you?"

Your lips met again, this time slower, more deliberate. The kiss was still filled with that same heat, but there was a tenderness in it that made your heart swell. Fred’s hand cupped your face, his thumb gently tracing your jawline as he deepened the kiss, pulling you closer. You could feel the strength of his arms, the way he held you, not to control you, but to keep you safe within his embrace.

Everything around you seemed to fade into the background as you melted into him, your fingers tracing the fabric of his robes as you felt the warmth of his body against yours. The night had become more than just a kiss—it was an unspoken promise, a bond growing stronger with every shared moment.

When the kiss finally broke, your foreheads rested against one another, both of you catching your breath. The air between you felt heavy with meaning, the unspoken emotions and desires lingering like an invisible thread tethering you together. It wasn’t just the kiss—it was everything that had been building between you two, a connection that ran deeper than words.

"Don’t worry," Fred whispered, his breath warm and steady against your skin. His voice was softer than usual, carrying a gentleness that sent a wave of reassurance through you. "I’m not going anywhere."

You smiled faintly, trying to inject some levity into the intensity of the moment. "I know that—you’d never leave dear ol’ me," you quipped, your voice light but your heart pounding.

Fred’s lips curled into a smirk, his signature confidence still shining through. "I wouldn’t dream of it," he replied, his tone playful yet undeniably sincere.

He leaned in again, this time his hands moving with deliberate care. His fingers brushed along your shoulders, trailing down to the clasp of your bra. He hesitated for just a moment, his eyes meeting yours, silently seeking permission. You gave him the smallest of nods, your chest tightening with anticipation. With practiced care, he undid the clasp and let the fabric fall away.

"Beautiful," he murmured, his voice so soft it was almost a whisper. His gaze dipped for a moment, his eyes tracing over you with an awe that made your cheeks flush. It wasn’t just the way he looked at you—it was the way he made you feel seen, as though you were the only thing in the world that mattered to him at that moment.

Fred straightened slightly, his hands moving to the buttons of his shirt. His pace quickened as he undressed himself, his usual teasing nature giving way to an eagerness that matched your own. You watched him, your eyes trailing over every movement, but your mind was already racing ahead, anticipation building with every second.

Soon, the both of you were left in little more than the bare minimum. Fred stood before you in his boxers, and you in your panties, the weight of the moment pressing between you. His gaze returned to yours, filled with a mix of excitement and something deeper—concern, perhaps, or maybe reverence.

"You’re sure about this, sweetie?" His voice was steady, though you could hear the faintest tremor of excitement beneath it. His words carried more than just a question; they carried a promise to stop at any moment, to ensure this was what you truly wanted.

"Fred," you replied softly, your voice unwavering despite the butterflies in your stomach. "I’ve never been so sure in my life."

At your words, his expression softened, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Alright then," he said quietly, leaning in to press his lips to yours again. This kiss was different—slower, deeper, carrying with it an unspoken understanding. His hands roamed your body, each touch deliberate and reverent, while your fingers found their way to his face, cupping his cheeks as though to ground yourself in the moment.

He pulled back for a breath, his hands trailing lower, brushing the edge of your underwear. Fred’s gaze met yours again, his eyes searching, asking the question one last time without words. Are you sure?

You nodded, this time more confidently, your heart racing with a mix of nerves and excitement. Fred’s lips twitched into a small smile as his fingers hooked into the waistband, carefully sliding the fabric down. The movement was slow, deliberate, as though he wanted to give you every chance to change your mind. But you didn’t—you couldn’t. You wanted this, wanted him.

As he discarded the final barrier between you, Fred paused for a moment, taking in the sight of you. His expression was one of quiet reverence, as though he couldn’t quite believe you were real. He quickly rid himself of his own boxers, and for a moment, the two of you stood there, bare and vulnerable in every sense of the word.

Fred stepped closer, his hands finding your waist and pulling you gently toward him. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine, but it was his eyes—the way they held yours with such intensity—that made your breath catch.

"This," he murmured, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke, "this isn’t just tonight. You know that, right?"

"I know," you whispered back, your voice barely audible. "I trust you."

And with that, Fred’s hands caressed your waist, his thumbs tracing soft, reassuring circles against your skin. The warmth of his touch contrasted with the cool air, making you shiver despite the heat radiating between you.

#harry potter #harry potter oneshots #harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter x y/n #harry potter x you #fred weasley #fred weasley smut #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #fred x reader

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pinkchaosnight · 5 months ago

Note

so here is my adar request. basically in which the fem!reader is taken in ep 5 instead of galadriel. once in adar's tent (during ep 6) they talk and get into a heated discussion about sauron and eregion. their banter gets so intense that glûg walks inside to see if everything is okay and then they both snap at them in union and then glûg whispers something like "oh no, dad and mom are fighting" idk something humorous lol. (excuse my grammar mistakes - English is not my native language). i need tension like air.

omg , tysm for this ask. its absolutely flawless. i enjoyed this ep so much! i have initially thought of doing a small imagine but somehow it turned it into this long, also i diverged from the ask slightly too🥹. i have changed some dialouges and scenarios. i hope you enjoy them!

pull of threads - (adar × fem!reader)

summary: dinner with adar is never straightforward is it? when especially you are captured and essentially sort of a prisoner?

(reimagined rings of power ep 6 where reader gets captured instead of Galadriel)

pairing : adar x female!reader

notes : english is not my first language, so i apologize in advance for the errors you might encounter. i have not properly edited, so please let me know if you find any error.

the uruk leader seated across you is poking his food with a vigour, as he regards you with suspicion. humiliation might be the nicest thing you can describe about what you are feeling right now, (along with some other feelings too but you blatantly ignore them) being captured as a prisoner. you were Lady Galadriel's friend and the her aide, until a few months ago when you retired from your post. everything that was going on was so overwhelming that you had to step away from your duties and that's exactly what you did. you travelled around, mostly staying in woods and forests and praying orcs don't chase you. you almost succeeded too until you recieved a letter from Lady Galadriel stating she needed your help, now that they are going to warn Celebrimbor about Halbrand being Sauron. you were reading her letter without a care for your surrounding that unfortunately resulted in you being captured and brought to the uruk camp. and thats why you were currently in this situation, being seated in front the uruk leader. Adar, he is called, as you recall from the days Lady Galadriel captured him many months ago.

the tent which was made up of dirty rags, was surprisingly warm, with a fireplace and a huge table laden with food. combinations of food that seems almost a disgrace to the plates it hold ; with berries, onions and meat. whoever did the dinner should be tossed into the cliff. the said uruk leader was now biting into a piece of meat from god knows what, as he watches you. if he is hoping to catch something from your expression he has another thing coming for him, as you keep your face as emotionless as you can, although Eru knows for how long.

" from my brief time in your Commander's capture, I guessed she was intent on finding Sauron. almost consumed by the thought of it, one might say." his words sliced the depth of silence that hanged between you and him.

" former Commander. and it is none of your concern what her intentions are. who are you to know her mind? you who could not even resist the allure of Sauron's words?" you reply in a monotonous way, hoping he doesn't find anything there.

Adar stops as he hears those words, as he slowly puts down the piece of food he is chewing. he remembers the first time he saw you; being chained up after being captured by Galadriel. all around him was dark but you came with a jar of water and a loaf of bread for him, when everybody was kind of neglecting him, except for when they needed information and torturing. that simple act of kindess and the conversions that ranged from 'hello' to a simple 'have a good day' that followed from your side warmed what little was left of his beating heart. he remember you being firercely loyal to Galadriel yet having a mind of your own to speak if necessary. he remembers how you disagreed when your commander spoke of his children as slaves. and above all, he remembers how you exuded a sense of warmth in that cold space.

now he looks at you in surprise as he leans forward "former?"

you squirm uncomfortably in your seat. after all, how could you let him know that one of the reasons why you left the army and being her secondin command, was his words? the converstion between him, Lady Galadriel and you, when he was captured really messed up your perceptive. other elves could not see but you saw what he was trying to say; that the uruks were just as worthy of lives and living as other creations of Eru, as each had a heart. you remember disagreeing with Lady Galadriel when she mentioned them as slaves, and Adar's eyes flashing in you direction, with ambiguous emotions.

shaking out of your reverie you say "yes, i am no longer her second in command, so its really useless to have me captured in here. i can offer you nothing. "

adar chuckles at your statement, as he rises from his seat and strides towards you. he stops infront of your chair, as he looks at you with an intense stare. and you couldn't help but stare back at him. those eyes, surrounded by scars and years of mutilation, made your heart ache with pain. you wonder what he was thinking, what he was plotting behind those somber eyes of his. you always wondered what happened to him after you ran away from the campsite that day. you retired and wandered in woods after that incident, with nothing to keep you company but fragments of him in your memory. love and hatred have a fine line separating them; you often heard from your friends and in those lonely nights on the woods you wandered if that is true. if you can cross that line with bravery. something that you are afraid to reveal to anyone. he was the one in your mind and on the other side of that fine line, as swirls of feeling wound up in your heart. a dangerous feeling to have for man who is going to kill you......one day.

"who says you can offer me nothing?" he says as he strides close to your face and tucks a strand of hair back. funny he did that because you had the same thought too, of brushing the loose hair of his and tucking it back. "my children found this in your bag" he says as he pulls out the scroll from a table behind you. "we know the elven army is approaching to find Sauron, in Eregion. And that has all the confirmation i want. and i know Halbrand is Sauron"

desperation washes over you as you see the scroll of paper Lady Galadriel wrote and gave you to read before she parted ways. you never got a chance to read the rest of paper as she and you went seprate ways, before you got caught by his minions.

" whatever your plan is, it is not going to work " you say with venom, as you stand up in anger (or so you thought stubbornly), coming face to face with him.

"do you know what Sauron promised me? " Adar asks you as he studies your expression flits from anger to confusion "children, he promised me children. and he made that promise into weapons of wars, my children mere tools for his gratifications, something which can be eradicated at his whims" he says, his voice a tad quite and flushed with sadness. it took all my willpower to keep my hands from reaching his and comforting him.

" you are going to kill him Eregion, aren't you?" i ask as realisation hits me a few seconds later. he moves back a few paces, widening the tantalizing distance betweeen us and doesn't reply as he keeps his back to me.

" you cannot, i think it is his plan too. i just have feeling in my heart this is exactly what he wants. for you to lead your army to him. we must ask Lady Galadriel's advice" i say as he turns and shoots me a look of disbelief.

"why should i listen to the words of someone whose race is hellbent on eradicating us from the face of this plane?" he shouts as he paces towards you, shaking with anger. "i did not capture you to hear your advice. Eregion will fall and Sauron with it" he says as closes the distance between us, trapping me between the chair and him.

"i want Sauron to fall too, i want to kill him and make sure he is permanently wiped off from this earth. but not in this way." i shriek in his face, which was merely inches apart from mine.

"i do not know why you care if i lead my army or not " he hisses as he moves back from me again, his eyes capturing my own ones in anger and perhaps sadness.

there is a tipping point for everyone's anger and you could feel his words pushing you to yours. you could no longer hold the feelings erupting inside you as you shouts." i care because this will all be ending in blooshed. i care because all my loved ones are going there and i don't want them to die. i care for the lives that will be sacrificed if you chose to follow this foolish plan of yours. and i care that something will happen to you and you will not make it out alive"

reality of the words registers in your brain as soon as the words escape your mouth. you have opened your heart and mouth and let all the dam of emotions you kept inside to turn into a river. and now you are going to suffer the consequences, preferably being submerged in those same waters, which you so kept in binds inside your now erratically beating organ.

Adar was stunned, staring at you in utter silence. his heart tingled, with the same warmth he felt months ago in your presence. his ears has always been the receiver of abuse and bad news, never the object to receive the sentiment with which you uttered the words quite a few seconds ago; words with care...and love. he slowly steps forward you, his hands unclenching from the remnant of his anger and reaching towards your face "you ....care about me.....?" his voice is a mere whisper, tinged with something you couldn't place. this goddess, this beacon of kindness care about him?

you wanted to melt into those eyes of his, that is oh so mysterious and perhaps you would have, if the tents did not flap open suddenly.

" lord father, glûg here. i heard shouts coming from outside. i was worried and just came inside to check if you are okay and if nan--" glûg stops as he sees you standing closely to his lord father. you notice his surprise being replaced with a slight smirk in your direction.

"get out" adar and you both says in unison, as you turn towards the orc in annoyance.

"certainly lord father" glûg says as turns away to exit "just lover's quarrel, lord father and naneth better make up". he exits as quickly as he can, muttering to himself.

you turn your head towards him, only to catch his eyes searching your face "yes i do care about you...." your voice is shaking but not in anger and with some other emotions you tried so hard to bury.

a flicker of emotions passes over his eyes as he glazes his vision over you "you think you are the only one who cares? why did you even think i captured you instead of your Commander, when i could have easily caught her and gotten the information too? why did you think you never encountered any orcs while you were sauntering through the woods? never have you escaped from my mind for a moment from the day we met. i tried so hard to keep every emotions i am feeling, hidden from you. but tonight i can't and i won't. i know i am a monster, an abomination for someone so kind as you. but tonight i am baring the one thing that has not been tainted by the evil , to your hands."

he places your hand on his chest, as you your eyes brim with tears. you feel his heart beating erratically, mirroring yours. "from the day you pulled me from that dark abyss, i decided that this heart will only belong to one person, to the one person this heart wholeheartedly loves."

time stops as you hears his words, it is like honey being poured into your ears. "so does mine too" you reciprocate, as you places his hands on your chest. "you are neither a monster nor an abomination. you are beautiful as Eru's any other creation. i even left the army because of you. because you keep on invading my everyday thoughts. and i kept thinking of how you are my enemy and i how i should hate you. but my heart never responded to any negative emotions, for all it had was love for you."

fianlly you can let this emotion run free, this plaguing need for him that you tried so hard to conceal. you would have stood there for eternity, for all of your immortal life, with his warm hands pressing yours into his chest. no words are exchanged betweeen you two in these seconds; no words are needed as the beating of your heart and the measure of your breath are enough to convey the feelings pouring off from both of you. he slowly closes the already miniscule distance betweeen you, as you step forward at the same time too, the tantalizing distance between your lips almost unbearable. you can feel his breath near your mouth, as your lips part with breathlessness and need. you just need to lean forward and place your mouth. you slowly reach forward, just enough to press the lips against his----

" lord father, i got a sudden report that---what is happening here?" glûg's voice rang across the tent as you and adar both turned to his direction.

" GET OUT GLÛG" you both cries in unison as poor glûg scurries off, being banished from the tent second time. but not before he catches a warm smile passing over his lord father. glûg catches from his peripheral vision, of his lord father pressing a chaste kiss in your cheek before placing his forehead against yours and smiling a genuine smile, which he has never seen.

'things will be good from now on' glûg thinks as he passes over to the next tent, thinking of the elf that thawed the ice of his lord father's heart. the one his lord father told him about months; the one lord father instructed him to call naneth in the future. and the one who made his lord father whole again after eons.

extra notes - all the asks i got, i will update them by this week itself, tysm for requesting! please leave a like and reblog and if you enjoyed reading them. hope everyone have an amazing day :)

#adar #adar x you #adar x reader #adar rings of power #the rings of power #adar x oc

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hysterikan · 2 months ago

Text

Good morning (Damon Albarn x Reader)

I've had this in my drafts for AGES and I finally decided to clean it up (and against my better knowledge post it lol) I apologize for any spelling and/or grammatical errors as english isn't my first language and it hasn't been beta-read by anyone. Anyways, I hope you will enjoy and if you did it would make my day if you leave a comment or reblog it! I also uploaded it to my AO3 here

Summary: Reader has a wet dream about Alex and somehow her boyfriend Damon finds out, but doesn't seem to be as upset as she thought he would be. As a matter in fact he might even like it

Wordcount: 3,277

Warnings: SMUT

She felt his teeth drag along her collarbone, making her shudder and then suddenly the sharp pain of his bite, making each nerve ending in her body crackle like a little firework.

Letting out a sound halfway between a squeal and giggle, she grabbed a fistful of his hair, tugging on it harshly.

He groaned and looked up from her chest, his brown eyes glazed over. He had covered her breasts in dark purple hickies and red teeth marks, nipping and biting every centimeter of skin.

“Alex.” She whispered softly, slowly grinding on him where she sat in his lap. Both of them gasped at the movement, his cock twitched inside of her and he gripped her hips hard.

He reached up to take her jaw in his hand, thumb dragging over her lip as her eyes fluttered shut and mouth fell open.

She could feel how his thighs tensed up under her and she knew with a little more teasing he would let her have her way.

“Alex,” She moaned again, opening her eyes as his name fell from her swollen lips and looking directly into his. His mouth twitched before he kissed her, harsh and nibbling with sharp teeth.

Carefully he leaned her back, getting on top of her while still kissing her. There was both gentleness and a feverish need in his movements.

They both shuddered, and she moaned when she felt his chest pressing against hers and how his hair brushed over her shoulder as he leaned in to kiss her neck. She wrapped her legs around him, never wanting to let go when she felt him sink deeper inside her.

With slow thrusts and featherlight kisses he teased her, coaxing out whiny moans from her. Alex chuckled breathlessly when she mewled, clawing at his back and she reached down to his ass, trying to push him further into her.

He got the hint, he just wanted to hear her say it.

“Tell me what you want.” He whispered. His voice low and gravely in her ear, making her skin prickle and her walls throb around him.

“I want you-, I want you to fuck me.” She answered in breathy moans, catching his lips in a slow sloppy kiss.

He obliged, slowly picking up speed in his thrusts.

Her hands found their way into his hair, tugging on it relentlessly, knowing it would drive him mad.

And it did.

He pinned down her hands, making her let out anexhilarated giggle and he couldn’t hold back his own smile.

Her smile soon faded into a little o-shape as he started thrusting his hips harder and harder, drawing a loud gasp out of her with each thrust.

She felt dizzy from the pleasure, she didn’t know where he started and she ended, all she knew was him in her and his voice as he moaned her name, his sweat covered body that pressed against hers and the safe pressure of his hands on her wrists.

“Alex, ‘m gonna- ” She cried out, clenching her thighs and writhing, her entire body aching to cum.

To cum for him. To cum on him.

“Bloody hell.” he whined, feeling her clench around him and hearing her needy cries brought him closer to his own release.

The orgasm washed over her without a warning and for a split second her mind went blank, the only thing that existed were her and Alex.

With soblike moans she clawed at his back, her legs quivering around his waist as she came. Her back arched up, meeting Alex's hips as he came closer and closer to his own release, and he bit back a loud groan when she clenched hard around him.

Alex's breath was ragged as he saw her, still shuddering and moaning. With a last hard thrust that made her whimper, still high on her orgasm, his brow furrowed and his body rippled as he came, whimpering her name.

It took her a second to realize where she was, with Alexs' loud moans still ringing in her mind. She was in her bedroom, with Damon next to her in their bed.

The sunlight that filtered in through the blinds made little golden lines over his naked back that rose and fell with his steady breathing.

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, almost hearing her heartbeat in her ears. Slowly she reached a hand down, and gasped. Her underwear was soaked through, the wetness even staining the inside of her thighs.

Drawing another shuddering breath she realized she must’ve had an orgasm in her sleep.

With burning cheeks she came to another conclusion, that in the dream she had been cumming on her boyfriend's best mate's cock.

She pulled her hand up and feeling a wave of shame wash over her, she closed her eyes.

It had felt so real, and she could still hear Alex's moans and teasing whispers as he thrusted into her. His lips, searing kisses on her skin, his hands-

A sudden movement next to her made her open her eyes to see Damon sleepily pull the covers closer around him.

His hair was messy, with his mouth and cheeks flushed from sleep and it made her heart tremble.

She reached out a hand, softly stroking it over his cheek, making him stirr and eyes flutter open.

“Good morning” She whispered and smiled softly when he groaned low, closing his eyes to shield them from the light that sneaked past the blinds.

Damon hummed, eyes still closed as he reached out for her and she chuckled as she crawled into his embrace, nuzzling her face against his neck.

“Did you sleep well?” He murmured as he stroked her hair. His voice was low and hoarse from sleep, making her heart jump. It was ridiculously sexy.

“Yeah” She mumbled into the crook of his neck and closed her eyes, inhaling the scent of him. His scent with a little left of yesterday's eau de cologne sent a warm current through her body, down between her thighs.

Damon drew circles with his fingertips over her back, nuzzling his nose against her hairline and inhaled.

“You talk in your sleep, did you know that?” He murmured and her eyes snapped open.

“Oh?” Was all she could muster, voice faint.

“You said Alex’s name.”

It felt as if her heart stopped and she felt her lungs tightening up with shame.

She looked up at him, and could see a slight smirk on his face.

“What?”

“You said Alex.” He repeated, stroking her cheek, his fingertips following her jaw down to her lips.

“Did I?” She felt her cheeks flush and Damon raised an eyebrow, still smiling.

“Yeah,” His thumb rubbed her lower lip as he licked his own, making her stomach summersault.

“Did you dream of him?”

She swallowed, looked away and felt the blush on her cheeks betray her.

“I don't really know. I don’t remember much.” She looked at Damon again as he kept stroking her cheek. He leaned down, their lips brushing against each others as he whispered;

“You know, I heard you moan, love. You moaned his name.”

Her breath hitched in shock but Damon caught her little gasp in a kiss. His tongue slipped into her mouth and before she knew it she gripped his bicep, biting and nibbling on his lower lip.

She could feel his hard on pressing against her stomach and how his heart pounded in his chest, almost forcing hers to beat in the same rhythm. The warm tingling feeling from her dream washed over her again, and she could feel her entire ache and long for his touch.

Damon pulled away too soon, his cheeks flushed and his breath ragged as he tried to compose himself. He stroked back a stray strand of hair from her face as he cleared his throat, smiling:

“Now my love, tell me about your dream.”

She bit her lip, a stern tone in his voice that she had never heard before, and it made her heart flutter and press her thighs together.

“Well, we were kissing.” She whispered, remembering Alex’s panting breath as he kissed her.

Damon licked his lips as he leaned in, ghosting his lips above hers.

“Yeah?” His breath tickled over her cheek and it sent shivers down her spine.

“And he kissed my neck.” She moaned.

“How did it feel?”

“It felt good.”

His breath hitched, and she could feel how his cock throbbed against her, making her gasp.

“And then what?”

“He...” She blushed furiously, biting her lip and he couldn't tell if she was just playing innocent or if she was actually a bit embarrassed to say the words out loud.

Damon's breath hitched again, his pupils dilated and his heart pounding. He couldn’t understand why, but her dream turned him on so much. It sent a sting of jealousy through him, yes, but it was outweighed by the forbidden and intoxicicating thought of one of his best mates shagging his girlfriend.

“You shagged him?” He whispered barely audible, his lips brushing over the shell of her ear. The hot breath made her skin prickle and she felt her nipples harden under the shirt she wore to bed.

“Yes.” She whined, closing her eyes as he pulled up said shirt, and softly stroked his hand down her stomach.

“Did you like it?” His voice was low, and she could only moan yes as his fingers passed the lining of her underwear. His teasing, the embarrassment and excitement of him knowing about the dream, the dream itself, it was all making her clit throb.

“You liked having Alex inside you, didn’t you? You liked fucking him, didn’t you, love?”

As he almost hissed out that last question his hand dipped down between her folds.

He gasped when he felt that she was soaked and she bit back a yelp, the light pressure of his hand enough to send crackling electric currents throughout her body.

“Damon.” She whined, feeling his arms wrap around her and the way he pressed her against him made her shudder. He leaned in to kiss her, his kisses almost bruising and sloppier than before, little moans and pants escaping as she tugged at her shirt.

He pulled down her undies, throwing them across the room which earned a giggle from her as they landed on the table lamp on the desk.

“Get these off!” She groaned and tugged on his boxers, her mouth watering when she saw his cock twitch through the fabric. God he was so hard.

“As you wish,” He smirked and pulled them down. A low smacking sound as his heavy hard on hit his abdomen made her bite her lip in anticipation. For a few seconds all she could do was stare at him where he laid, naked and on display for her.

“Stop staring.” He groaned, a faint blush dusting his cheeks, and she giggled, crawling up to him and he immediately pulled her close to him, his lips crashing onto hers.

She moaned into his mouth, nipping at his lower lip with her teeth as she felt his hand stroke down her naked body, pushing her onto his back.

“Did he make you this wet?” he murmured against her lips, as his fingers trailed down between her legs to lightly brush over her throbbing clit.

Between little breathy moans she managed to get out;

“No, it’s you.”

He lightly pressed his finger against her clit again, making her quiver. The ache was unbearable.

“I need you in me.” She begged and looked up at him with hazy eyes.

He looked at her, her lips swollen and glistening with saliva and if he hadn’t been so eager to be inside her, fucking her senseless until she forgot about that dream, and about Alex of all bloody people, he would’ve loved to see those lips around his cock.

Slowly he pushed a finger into her, making her suck in a sharp breath he teased;

“Like this?”

She couldn’t form an answer, her mind went completely blank and without noticing she whimpered his name. He watched her flutter shut and then close completely when he pushed in another finger, wanting to hear her make that deliciously needy moan again.

Slowly pumped them in and out, looking at her as he did and felt his cock twitch as he saw her bite her lip in an attempt to suppress a loud moan.

His mouth brushed against the shell of her ear and sent tickling shivers through her. Just as she let out a shaky moan he pulled out his fingers, making her whine at the loss of contact and she was just about to loudly complain when he pressed them to her clit instead, rubbing firm but slow circles.

“Oh God” she clutched her hand behind his neck, feeling his hot breath on her face as he laughed softly. He nibbled on her lip and chin as he continued to rub harder and faster.

The room was filled with sounds of his kisses, her wetness, their heavy breathing and her loud sob like moans.

She rocked her hips against his fingers, her moans getting louder and needier and god she was so close that she clawed his neck, she could feel herself tense up, cunt aching for the release. A mental image of Alex on top of her, deep in her as he groaned flashed by, but then her eyes fluttered open as Damon moaned when she squelched over his fingers.

She was millimeters from the edge when he suddenly stopped. With cheeks flushed and breath stuck in her throat she almost screamed:

“Wh-, what the fuck Damon, why did you stop?”

God she was so beautiful like this. Animalistic almost and completely unhinged.

“Do you want me to continue?”

“Yes!”

He tapped his finger against her clit again and smiled when she threw her head back and moaned.

“Ask for it.” He whispered and that alone was almost enough to make her cum.

“Please Damon, please, let me cum.”

Almost instantly he resumed rubbing her clit, making her back arch and she cried out his name over and over, so close that she forgot every other word. All she could think of was him, him, him.

“Damon!”

Her cries and moans made his breath hitch as he saw how she came undone for him and he groaned between clenched teeth;

“Cum for me.” And she did.

With a moan that was almost a scream she fell apart and became a blabbering, whimpering mess in his hands. She sobbed his name, head spinning and heart pounding so loud in her ears she could barely hear him whispering her name

He stroked slowly but firmly over her clit until she pushed his hand away, her voice quivering as she let out a broken whisper;

“I can’t-, I can’t do another.” Making him chuckle and through her foggy brain she could muster a weak smile.

Damon looked at her where she lay with her tendrils of hair clinging to her forehead, a slight sheen of sweat covering her chest and her cheeks blossoming with a deep crimson blush.

“Was that good?”

She chuckled, still not sure how to get back to breathing normally and smiled;

“Do you really have to ask?”

Leaning in until their lips brushed and his breath tickled he teased;

“I just wanted to hear you say it.” before licking her lips and kissing her.

She felt his cock twitch against her thigh and suddenly the flame she thought had been doused started flickering. Acting on instinct she bit his lower lip, hard, making him gasp and she wondered if maybe she had been too harsh when he pulled away, his eyes huge but then a smirk formed on his perfect lips.

Rising on shaky elbows she laughed as she said;

“Don’t you wanna finish?” tilting her head to her side.

“Looks like you might need it.” She nodded towards his cock, dripping precum, red and swollen. The warm pooling in her stomach threatened to scorch her when he raised a brow, stroking himself and inching closer to her.

“You think so?”

Biting her lip she nodded, opening her trembling legs and looking him up and down. He pulled her down to him, making her gasp as she fell on her back and then giggled at his sudden roughness. He looked at her, his pupils blown out and his chest falling and rising as he gripped her thigh hard.

Slapping the head of his cock against her clit he hissed and she bit back a whimper, feeling herself tremble in his grasp. She was a bit sore from her earlier orgasm but it didn’t matter as he slowly pushed into her, both of them gasping.

“Fuuuck” He groaned, feeling her clench around him and she shuddered at the slight over stimulation.

“You okay?” He panted and stroked her hips, pulling her down onto him slowly.

“Uh-huh.” She hummed before adding; “Please.”

Her quivering voice, dripping with lust and pleading eyes made him snap. There was nothing he wanted as much as making her scream his name again, begging and moaning, only this time she would be dripping all over him.

He moaned, wrapping his arm under her hips and hoisting her up so that he could thrust into her at whatever pace he pleased.

“Please.” She whispered again, her hands on his back, clawing.

Damon's hips snapped up, the pace he set was hard and unforgiving and with each thrust she whimpered loudly.

He couldn’t think of anything else but how her body moved with his, the sweat covering them both, her whining and moaning and how much he loved her.

“Oh fuckin’ hell, you feel so good, fuck” He moaned, leaning in to kiss her. It was a sloppy kiss, their lips barely touching as he sped up his thrusts.

She reached up, carding her fingers through his flaxen of hair and tugging on it slightly, making him moan and bend his neck back. Knowing he couldn’t hold it for long he closed his eyes and focused on her gasping breaths, the smell of sex, the wet slapping noises and the burning sensation in his stomach.

“Cum in me” She moaned, her breath hitching when Damon leaned his forehead against her shoulder, his breath tickling over her neck and she raked her nails down his back.

His breaths got shorter and shorter, his thighs tensing up, the warm coil in his abdomen burning, and when she locked her legs on his lower back, pushing him deeper in, he came. His mind went blank as he thrust into her, making the orgasm last as long as possible and she kissed his ear, nibbling at it and whispering:

“I love you” over and over.

With a moan and a string of profanities he relaxed, shuddering and with heavy breaths.

She stroked his back, trying to slow down her racing heart and erratic breathing. She didn’t know how long he laid there, nuzzling his face to her neck as his breathing slowly became normal again, but she enjoyed every second of it.

Carefully he pushed himself up on his elbows, smiling slightly and running a hand through her messy hair.

“Well, good morning to you too.” She said and smiled up at him, stroking his arm softly.

“Good morning indeed. Wanna join me in the shower?”

“Yes please.”

He leaned in to kiss her, muttering, “I love you” which made her heart jump. Before pulling away completely he added with a cheeky grin:

“So for the next round I’ll call in Alex?”

“Damon!”

#damon albarn x reader #damon albarn smut #damon albarn x y/n #alex james x reader #blur imagine #blur band #britpop imagine #britpop fic #hysterikan.text

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kazumist · 9 months ago

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happy birthday to me! posting this a bit early (there's 2 hours left lol) but have this small childe bday drabble for now :) 🎂 sorry for any errors haha i got lazy to proofread </3

“ajax, put that icing down this instant.”

“and what are you gonna do about it if i don’t, hm?”

the two of you went around the kitchen counter steadily—eyes only focused on the other. how did you get yourself into a situation where childe is threatening to mess you up with frosting, you may ask? well, it simply starts with you suggesting that you should make a cake for your birthday together.

ajax always had skills for cooking, especially when it came to baking. so it was a cute idea to invite your boyfriend to bake with you so you could have some cake on your special day! however, you regretted the idea immediately when you got to the part where you two were finally going to make the frosting.

“well, i’ll uhm… spend my birthday with someone else!” (a lie. you only planned to spend your special day with him.)

“that’s not going to fool me, sweetheart.” ajax replies, his eyes still locked on you as he tries to read your movements.

“why can’t we just make some icing in peace?”

he chuckles at that. “where’s the fun in that?” you rolled your eyes at his words, still going around the kitchen counter. “ajax, it’s literally eleven o’clock in the evening. i just want this cake to be done,” you said with a sigh, stopping in your tracks.

unfortunately for you, that was when your boyfriend decided to strike. he comes at you with the piping bag in hand, ready to smear you with the sweet icing inside of it. quickly making the run for it, you and ajax went in circles in the whole house until he managed to trap you on the couch.

“i yield! i yield!” you said, laughing at what just happened as you tried to catch your breath in the process. ajax traps you underneath him, somehow distancing the piping bag in his hand from you. he then leans in towards you, making eye contact with you immediately. you initially thought he was going in for a kiss (you were feeling it too! closing your eyes and everything…) but he used that move as a way to trick you.

ajax then swirls some icing on the top of your nose and leans back to admire the artwork he just made on your face. you immediately opened your eyes at the feeling of something being put on your nose and there you got greeted by ajax, who was laughing at your face.

“tartaglia, once i get my hands on you—” childe takes that as his cue to make the run for it.

let’s just say that it took you both a while to get that birthday cake done.

#( rambles )#astronetwrk #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin imagines #childe x reader #ajax x reader #tartaglia x reader #childe #ajax #tartaglia #x reader

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aurmisery · 7 days ago

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confessions unheard: sickening sweetness.

a ronin b. x gn! reader for 'My Fallen Valentine's.'

okay as you can guess this is going to be ronin x reader ! hope i did this prompt correctly? i just thought of really sweet (unhinged even) fluff.

cw // depictions of gore and viscera, this is ronin we're talking about LMFAO, violence, references to cat-calling/sexual harassment, drinking,

-and i'm sure that's it!

sorry if this is ooc, since this is supposed to be sweet n shit i tried making him more of a loser and uncharacteristically in love??? also i don't even know if he drinks and im sure it's probably not canon for him to be feinin this much 😭

idrk if i have a good grip on his character n all but i tried my best!! sorry for all the filler in this lol

good luck to everyone else participating!

(FUCKING FINALLY I GOT ALL THE WORDS BACK PLUS MORE!?! ENJOY!!!!! and if there's any errors....just ignore it...for my sake...)

word count: 5723 ❤️

something's...wrong, with ronin.

well- you technically could say that out of context and nothing would change, but no, something is terribly wrong with him. and surprisingly, it's not the fact that he's a serial killer with a kill count that rises practically everyday, nor is it the human remains aligning his shelves.

he's been out of it lately. constantly pacing around the reds and blacks of his room, all the while being more...fidgety than usual, unable to focus or parade his regular devil-may-care attitude around.

this is really fucking weird for him; ronin beaufort is the devil, and the devil doesn't change. he remains in the darkest pits of hell and slaps his knee at the idea of it, even.

he's unchanging, eternal, his punishment being no different.

so why couldn't he focus on his damn job and get this fucking filter replaced?

sweat beads down his forehead, grease coating his arms as he strained his neck further beneath the car, wrist flicking with each turn on the drain bolt and eventually...

it loosens, crust fluttering from the grooves of the screw, and the must of... whatever the hell's been sitting in this person's tank slowly infiltrating his nose.

it didn't have the strong petroleum scent, none of the chemical sharpness, and it didn't snake up his nose like new oil did either-

it smelled charred. ashy, even, and the must was evident as he turned the bolt and it did the rest of the work, a thick, almost black sludge filtering out of the tank and all over the concrete ground with a wet thud.

lacking a quick reaction, ronin's brows knitted low, letting a small 'fuck,' pass by his lips as he turned and reached around for wherever the hell he laid the oil catch pan.

he forgot to put it under the plug...somehow.

he's been forgetting to do a lot of things recently, matter of fact.

he shoves the thought down. he probably just needs to stop staring at a screen as soon as he comes home and get more rest, yeah, that's it.

speaking of a screen, when did you last text him? actually, when's the last time you two have held a conversation?

he slides the pan from beside him underneath the gunk-spewing tank, rolling from under the car and grabbing his tools and such off the ground, running his nails through the tips of his low ponytail.

...maybe he should check his phone.

it wouldn't hurt, just to see if there's a notification from you. he did get your number, finally. took a bit of convincing and some back-and-forth before you slid it, but now he has one of his best friends at his fingertips.

best...friends.

the collocation doesn't really fit with you, or at least the image he has of you. sure, you're his friend, a damn good one at that, and if he were to use it the way a normal person would, he would definitely call you his best friend.

but it doesn't feel right for him to call you that.

it's not like you're undeserving of the title, but it just doesn't fit with you. should he create a nice little title for ya?

he grins at the idea, and doesn't seem to notice the blackened oil trickling over his knuckles as he fumbles with his password.

you two are like... peanut butter and jelly? nah, overused, and stupidly corny. you two are like...thelma and louise! ehhh, he's not feeling it. cool reference, but maybe there's something else buried in that skull of his.

he leans against the car door, finally wiping his hand over the thin material of one of his plain work shirts. you can't really wear anything cool when you're working as a mechanic, after all.

tom and jerry? you two do bicker a lot. eh, not enough, also doesn't have that ring to it. bonnie and clyde? hard maybe, it'd be perfect if it was more platonic, besides, you two are just friends anyway.

friends- ugh, he cringes at that. he can't just dilute his partner in crime to a...friend.

naming you his partner in crime is very basic, but considering the underlying context between you two, it's rather fitting, right?

yeah, you're his partner in crime. plus, it doubles as a Set It Off reference in a way. fitting, veeeery fitting, actually.

"yo, beaufort! i'mma need this area in about 2 to 3, you finishin' up over there?"

a burly voice calls out- presumably one of his coworkers, and the twist in ronin's lips gives out- no notification from you.

he types out a quick message to you: 'still Alive?' as he slides his phone back onto the work table, he'll check it later- and only when he's done with this stupid replacement.

he lowers himself onto his creeper, rolling underneath the car whilst pulling the sludge-filled tin from underneath the ink-smeared tank and flushing the rest of the old oil out.

he grabs a wrench, tapping the rust and burnt oil from the plug and screwing it right back to its rightful place. he can do this quick, he's done this hundreds of times before, what's one more?

he's taking out the old tank when a high pitched chime rings out from his work table, his notifications alerting him of a new message.

weirdly enough, his motions freeze on cue and he's about to stand up and check it like it was instinct. but- well, he was still under the car.

a sharp, hollow crack rang through the garage as his head met the steel frame above him. a curse shot from his lips, low and snarled as the pain bloomed across his skull. eyes squeezed shut, he gritted his teeth, pressing a palm against the fresh ache.

for a moment he just...laid there, letting his arms fall flat on the concrete below him, exhaling through his nose and letting the pain settle before daring to move again.

what the hell's wrong with him? he told himself that he wasn't going to check his phone 'till he's done with this, and this is one of the easiest things to do in this field! why is it taking him this long?

through his wavering vision, he could spot two muddied boots slinking besides the car he's under, before they creased and the person sunk into a crouch.

"you okay there, kid?"

ronin rolled his eyes- 'kid', only one or two people here call him that, and the baritone of his voice paired with those boots must mean that the manager was doing his rounds and decided to check in on him.

"'m fine, just layin' on the concrete 'cause i wanna."

a thick rumble reminisce of a chuckle reins deep from the gut of the older man, before he cleared his throat and reached a gloved hand out underneath the car.

"need an ice pack?"

he eyed it- could help if there's any possibility of a bruise or a welt showing up, but as ronin ran a hand down his face, he gave a shake of his head.

it doesn't really hurt that badly anymore.

"nah, thanks though. just...lemme finish this and i'll be on my way out."

a grunt followed, the gloved hand retracting from under the car, and the raggedy pair of boots turned out of view.

alright, fuck it- let's just get this over with.

with a quick brush of his hands, ronin came out to the front, tapping on one of the various workers and letting them know that he was clocking out for the day.

slinging his bag over his arm, he was met with a calloused palm fixed onto his shoulder blade. he turns, and yep- the big guy.

"get some rest, you seem off your game."

the grouch's voice was unusually sincere, and it almost made ronin's gaze soften before the older man gave him an overly enthusiastic tussle of the hair.

"you're still young. sleep is important for you."

he's eyeing the light bags beneath his eyes and ronin could tell, but he only shrugged and gave a sloppy salute in return.

"yeah yeah, no kiddin', i'll be on my 'best' behavior next time. see ya later, old timer."

the gruff man stiffly nodded, immediately disappearing into the busy background as ronin turned and headed for the door.

as soon as the bell overhead chimed, he padded in his passcode and opened his messenger app, pleased to see the '3' icon bubbled besides your nickname.

[writer Darlin']

-'Sadly, my heart is still beating 😭'

-'agent's on my ass so I've been writing another piece for as long as I can whilst the hype is still high'

-'wouldja put me outta my misery?'

and there comes that feeling again, the staticky unease that bleeds into his cheeks, that flows in his chest and even shows through the light tremble of his fingers.

and then the obnoxious twist of his lips, the smile that weaves itself thick and heavy on his lower jaw that he can't seem to rip off, and he steps a bit slower through the sidewalk.

-'nah, i think I'll let ya Suffer a bit longer...'

-'besides, what's a devil to do Without entertainment?'

at this rate, you're probably rolling your eyes out of your own skull because of him, and he'd want nothing less.

[writer Darlin']

-'damn, cruel. shouldn't have expected the devil to be my savior anyway, guess I'll have to ask a sweetheart like Angel to smite me instead of your lame ass 🙄'

as soon as your reply dropped, he responded. no, not out of jealousy or anything stupid like that, but c'mon, be honest with yourself.

-'you've already got Lucifer himself staring over your shoulder, don'tcha think you're being selfish by hoarding all of the Divine power?'

he knows he's being a little shit, but that's just how he is when it comes to his best buds.

he's scrolling through your previous text messages, and it's enough to put a strain over his heartstrings. it's always a dance with you, and he wouldn't have it any other w-

...he nearly walks into a street light.

awkwardly shoving his phone back into his pocket, he decided to worry about getting home alive without some random slip-up ending in his death or worse.

yikes- yeah, he just needs a good kill and a few more hours of rest, and everything will go back to normal. that's all he needs.

...did you respond to his text yet?

maybe ronin was back to his usual self, because after going home and cleaning up, he felt like a new man.

it could've just been ridding himself of the grease and powder from his workplace, or maybe it was the thrill seeping its way back into his bones as he ran a finger over the cold, heavy iron of his crowbar.

changing back into his usual aesthetic helped too, reds and blacks with accents of silver coating him from head to toe, devil horns peeking atop the grey and black fabric of his beanie.

now that he's in uniform, pep flooded his step as he threaded his blackened nails through the silk of his hair, sliding out through his front door and into the night.

who's going to be his lucky pick for today?

he found his victim rather quickly.

greasy brown hair hung in uneven clumps around his sunken face, a pair of bloodshot eyes, watery and half-lidded, scanned the street with a predatory gleam, glinting with something both lazy and lecherous.

and each time a woman pedalled by, presumably hoping to get home before the night sky blackened further, his lips would curl into a crooked grin.

his targets were few and far between, but he made sure that every one of them knew that he had a mouthful of things to say about them right off the bat.

...no matter how young they looked.

it was almost funny, he wanted a victim and he found the best candidate as soon as he set out searching. who'd miss a scumbag like him? uptown needs their savior, after all.

it's more than enough to warrant bashing his head in for the night, and the perfect opportunity to clear his own in the meantime.

the narrow walls of the alley were slicked with grime and shadows. overhead, a single flickering street light was trying its' best to illuminate the corner with its green-hued flare.

its dying glow cast over the alley, draping its rickety textures in a haunting atmosphere- fitting, given that ronin had doused these walls with blood before.

the pavement was littered with crumpled newspapers, shattered glass, and puddles of murky water that reeked of decay. a nauseating stench hung heavy in the air- a blend of rotting food, damp mold, and something metallic and sour, like old blood.

scraping his crowbar along the exposed pipes decorating the filthy path, he tapped it against the dingy metal, once, twice- until finally, the scumbag turns his head, yellow teeth fixed into a scowl.

got him.

ronin's fingers flexed around the warming iron of his trusty weapon, before lifting it and raking its teeth against the brittle brick, a sound akin to nails on a chalkboard grating through the stale air.

"cut that shit out," a low snarl, warning, biting, even. the man's now leaning uneasily over his own two feet, glass bottle tight within the drunk's grasp.

ronin whistled out a long, sharp burst, dragging his tool against the cracked concrete, glass occasionally crunching under his platforms.

"you wanna go, asshole?" the pig snarled, vocal cords strummed with copious amounts of alcohol and mucus as his wrist wiped over his running nose.

the drunken bravado of this prick is more than enough to have ronin's fingers itching to burrow through his abdomen- to wreak havoc across this bastard's body and let him know what hell truly looks like.

the drunkard's now storming towards ronin, almost tripping over his own shoes as he slung slurred words and insults towards him.

little did he know, he was just luring him deeper within the emptied twists and turns of the alley, just to ensure that he gets enough time to hear him scream without any unneeded innocents stopping by and getting an eyeful of gore beyond their wildest nightmares.

eventually, the lone streetlight stopped its' flickering, dimming into a low hum buzz as its' glow grew weaker and weaker- and finally into pitch black.

how well can a drunk man see in the darkness?

it was the same routine. wash, rinse, repeat. mangle the disfigured body into whatever position he wanted and splatter the newly-killed man's innards all over the alley concrete for all to judge.

but the experience was....rather lacking. he barely had a taste of the rush, of the adrenaline rushing through his veins. it died out quickly, and he's right back to thinking of you as he slips through the night and right back into his sanctuary.

[goreboy] 04:06

-'hey Angel is cupid Also an Angel?'

[Angelic] 04:07

-'Well that's a lot of capitalization, especially with the A's but I don't think so? I think he's some god or something in Greek mythology, but I'm not too sure. Why?'

[goreboy] 04:07

-'you two have wings Good enough'

-'tell him to fuck off please and Thanks!'

-'and hey, you know i can't resist that Sweet sweet alliteration.'

[Angelic] 04:07

'How do I deal with you...'

'But wait wait wait, what does that mean? Cupid?'

he feels instant regret- he shouldn't be texting or ranting or whatever the fuck he's doing to angel right now. she's got her own shit going on, and he's skipping like a school girl in a field of daisies- well, preferably bodies, over the thought of...

you. god, it makes his heart hurt. why? how would he know?

he has to hunt you down for this- you definitely cast some weird spell on him to make him feel this strongly for whatever reason and it's absolutely destroying him.

sure, he cares about you, deeply. you're really close and he enjoys being around you, but he didn't know that hanging out with you a couple of times would amount to...this.

and now he's spiraling inside of his own head, falling apart at the seams so easily, and he doesn't even know why.

[goreboy] 04:13

-'oh god bless my bleeding Heart'

-'...'

-'it's Nothing.'

[Angelic] 04:13

'Ronin, is there something going on?'

being sardonically impulsive was a trait that rarely bit ronin in the ass, especially when his instincts were usually sharp, but when it did- it wasn't a fun time.

tucking his head in a bandage-draped palm, he dangled his fingers over the keyboard, only for them to hang motionlessly.

what does he even say to that? "i'm falling in love with one of my best friends and for the first time i'm too much of a pussy to admit it! woe is me!" give him a break.

[Angelic] 04:16

-'You don't have to tell me anything, but if there's anything going on, you know you have a safe place with me, no matter how irritating you are.'

-'Regardless, you really should sit down and just process anything that could be troubling you. Get some sleep in and see how you feel in the morning about everything, y'know?'

'-And if it's cupid related, I don't mind playing matchmaker. 🤍'

ronin couldn't help the smile creeping up on his lips. it helped, y'know? remembering that he had someone in his corner who he could confide in when things got heavy.

[goreboy] 04:17

-'Noted'

-'...'

-'thanks. for y'know, Everything.'

-'and that last bit seems rather Interesting despite the fact that you're basically a Lamer version of cupid'

[Angelic] 04:18

-'I hate you oh so very much 😭'

a dry chuckle vibrates through his chest, and he's shutting off his computer, letting the screen fade to black.

she's right, though. instead of moping in self pity, he should sleep on it, maybe even pray that he won't feel anything for you when the sun rises and he gets out of bed.

he lazily sets his phone on his nightstand, not bothering to plug it up before he had a double take, hitting the power button and reading the numbers in bold.

"4:20 AM."

didn't he say something about getting more sleep?

shit.

he wished he could say that sleep did something for him in the grand scheme of things...

it did little to nothing, especially with the time he went to sleep. now he's restless, maybe a tad manic, and driving himself absolutely mad at the thought of you.

god, it feels as though his teeth are about to fall straight out of their sockets- and not just because he's been slapping himself dumb around his room all night.

he's been thinking- way, way, way, way too much. thinking about his feelings, what he wants, if there's a possibility of you feeling anything too, if you want him too.

further in the day, he thought that perhaps a drink or two will smooth the rough edges, shut his brain up enough for him to do the usual, but after a glass, or two...maybe three, he wasn't getting any closer to salvation.

he still thinks about it- those rare times that you've two hung out and you would casually slink an arm over him or play with his hair as you two binged another horror franchise. the times where he'd turn to watch your reaction at a movie heavily relying on shock value and how you'd scoot a little closer to him after it.

was he just imagining that? did your heart beat no faster at the idea of being closer to him? was all of this normal for you? whenever you went outside to do something simple, like checking the mail, did you not spot something that reminded you of him?

because as he's trailing down the countless alleyways he has memorized like the back of his hand, everything he looks at sends his mind into a blurry fuzz of everything you.

he didn't even notice the storm clouds rolling in, and the low grumble of faraway thunder did little to dissuade him from traveling farther from home, despite his lack of jacket or umbrella.

he felt like a stray dog wandering the streets with a maw full of bleeding rot, looking for something to devour that'll push the feeling down.

but there's nothing to do to push it down, to cast it out of sight and out of mind, and he's too full of feelings that he doesn't know what to do with-

should he pick out another kill for him to waste his time on?

normally, that'd be something he'd consider, something he'd chase out and bide his time on until the adrenaline, the rush, the high- would hopefully push you out of mind.

but he knows it'll just fail, like it did the day before.

the sky's weeping heavier at this point, and he's just now wringing out the black fabric of his shirt, drenched beyond relief at this rate.

he shrugs it off like it's whatever, as if the thunder and fat raindrops pummeling down on him was nothing more than an inconvenience, and he decides to retreat back home for the day.

each stride through the darkening streets feel almost weightless as he trails down the empty sidewalks, and it's right there.

his sanctuary.

except he turns the doorknob and it's... locked.

a frown bags over his lower jaw, and he tries it again. nope, locked.

and then a hollered "i'll be right there!" muffles behind the door. wait, what?

he looks forward, noticing the unfamiliar 'welcome!' rug at the doors front steps, and the change in scenery around him.

the door opens, and before he can hot tail it out of there, you're peeking out from behind the frame, and your brows furrow.

fuck, he's so screwed.

did he really self sabotage himself so badly in his drunken stupor that he walked to your front door instead of his?

because now he gets to see you- in person. and he doesn't know if he can handle that right now, if he can stand face to face with you knowing how his heartbeat quickens at the sound of your voice, nonetheless seeing you right before him.

you're motionless for a second, eyes beading over his form in a vertical line before you craned the door wide open, a mix of concern and confusion etched onto your face and he sobered up at the sight immediately.

don't you see that you're opening the front door to the worst person right now? fuck, why did you decide to answer? you shouldn't have, you really, really shouldn't have.

it felt like he was dying of embarrassment, and death had never felt so foreign and uneasy in his chest as he gave you a nervous grin.

"uh, hey."

his voice was dry and nearly died out as soon as the words left his lips, a faint crack ending off of his awkward greeting.

and suddenly, he could feel the way his pants weighed more than usual and how his shirt stuck uncomfortably close to his skin, fat raindrops still pummeling him under the dark sky.

"is it...normal, for you to be standing in the pouring rain?"

it was a jab, a friendly one at that, but your lighthearted words were simultaneously laced with...shock? surprise? maybe pity?

he pulled at his collar, sheepishly rubbing at the nape of his neck as water trickled down against his spine, causing a shiver to stream through him.

"uh, yeah-yep. y'know, just, uh...getting some fresh air."

getting fresh air in the middle of a thunderstorm? yeah, right. he was hoping to lean into the dry humor of it all and maybe crack a smile out of you that would allow him to brush past the inevitable 'what the fuck are you doing here?' question, but fate said otherwise.

"well, maybe you should come inside? i mean-you're soaked and the night's only gonna get darker."

immediate no. he cannot let himself step through your doorway, he cannot delve between the walls that's everything...you. that's the LAST thing he needs right now, last thing he should surround himself with.

you tug at the wet fabric of one of his sleeves, as if trying to guide him into the warmth of your home, but he only nails his palms over the ridges of your doorframe, enabling him still.

"no, i'd rather stay riiiight here, thank you."

you side eyed the worsening weather at his back and grazed your pupils over to his, staring at him as if he said something funny.

"ronin-"

"'m fine where i stand, thanks darlin'."

you frown, your brow raised strictly as if you were about to scold him, but you held your tongue for whatever reason, as if you could tell that he really didn't want to step inside.

"fine, but if you get a cold and i have to take care of your ass, don't tell me i didn't warn you."

is it bad that the scenario doesn't sound too bad to him?

his heart's working against him in ways he never knew it could, and before he could shut himself up, he's leaning further towards you, eyelids heavy and irises locked onto yours.

"you'd take care of me if i were sick?"

he didn't realize how desperate he was coming across, but when he heard the immediate drop in his tone and the lack of crypt in his voice, he felt a flutter in his chest. fuck, you're killing him.

the attitude slathered all over your face phases over, shifting into light solemn as you cross your arms, giving a small nod.

"yeah, of course. i care about you,"

fuck, you're killing him!

"-you're one of my bestest friends, after all."

oh my god, put him out of his misery already!

he's never rolled his eyes harder, he could've sworn he saw the man on the cross himself for a moment and he could've set on his knees as a believer right then and there.

maybe he should ask for the lord to strike him down here and now, and hopefully with enough repentance he'll die on the spot.

unluckily for him, you noticed his reaction, the way his head turned and his x'ed out pupils narrowed and slid out of view. the way his head veered away from you and his nostrils flared momentarily.

now you're curious, and you already know what happens to those who question things they probably shouldn't. curiosity killed the cat, 'n all.

"well, you have something to say, yeah? this is the first time i've seen satan himself shivering, so should i assume that hell finally froze over?"

the jest in your voice was unmistakable, but so was the genuine undertone of your question. he wished he could turn you away and soothe your curiosity with a toothy grin that told you all you needed to hear-

but with how he's standing ahead of you like a deer in headlights, he'd reckon that it wouldn't do much to salvage this situation.

"i don't," he began, only to slap a hand over his face with his index and middle fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

"i, i can't, it's..."

he drawls off, and he can feel it, the excuses longing to claw their way out of the confines of his throat, the overwhelming need to escape your gaze, and the hesitation churning in his abdomen.

"wow, whatever the hell you're going on about is really fucking you up, huh?"

you weren't wrong. this was definitely out of character, especially for ronin out of all people.

you clicked your tongue, rolling it over your teeth as you mentally noted the slight tremor in his body.

"are you...sure you don't want to come in?"

your voice falls on deaf ears, he's too absorbed in it all, in everything you do down to the smallest things. it's embarrassing, really, the dilation of his pupils following the view of your tongue running over the angle of your canines.

the sight should strike terror into his bones and he knows it. he should be running for the hills at this point - what can he even do to tilt the odds in his favor?

and yeah, he's fucking horrified. horrified at the way that his face doesn't pale in fear, but hazes over with the lightest pink. horrified at the way his heartstrings tense and pull, as if his heart was trying to ruthlessly beat itself out of its' bindings.

you're the scariest thing he's come across. the careless ruffle of your hair, the rosy pigment blotched over your bottom lip, and that...casual look in your eye. the way light dances and reflects in your irises like the prettiest firework show he's ever seen.

you're bad. really fucking bad for him, you're the worst thing he's laid eyes on, and he knows it once your head tilts in confusion and his gut wrangles high into his throat. what the fuck are you doing to him? do you know what the fuck you're doing to him?

you're probably deeper in the pits of hell than he is, and that's saying something. you're dangerous! akin to some monstrosity that the likes of man couldn't even fathom.

he was wrong for questioning your lack of survival instincts when you opened the door for him, he should've been questioning his own when he wandered to your front door like a lamb to the slaughter.

instead of having your aorta between his fingers, you have his wrangled between yours, and you don't even fucking know it.

the crackle of thunder right down the street is enough to wake him from his internal monologue, and he realizes that you're basically shaking him dry, snapping your fingers before him in a pitiful attempt to 'wake him up'.

"jesus christ," you heave, and you're grabbing him by the wrists, the heat of your fingers locking around his pulse burned his cheeks into a brighter shade of pink that, for once, made him look more alive than corpse.

"ronin, talk to me. tell me what's going on, please, you're not acting like yourself, and that says something."

the sound of his lifeline thumps heavy in his eardrums, even as he digs his teeth into the crackled, slightly bloodied mess of his bottom lip. he can feel the random, morbid variations of everything he's been feeling coursing through his veins.

they taste odd, unbalanced over the piercing on his tongue, and he doesn't even know how to describe it himself. fuck it, he's here right now, he needs to do something about these feelings while they're still fresh and bleeding, but all the ideas garble up into pathetic word vomit once he gets a hold of them.

he's eyeing the wet glisten of your lash line, and he notices you're now, too, partially in the rain. the hands holding his wrists now interlocked with his, fingers crisscrossing over one another.

he's thinking about it all; the times you've shared, ranging from your hangouts to your gaming sessions, and they all were...

perfectly imperfect.

yeah, the time you two went out for ice cream and not even two steps away from the truck, your scoops splattered all over the pavement. or the last time you guys hung out over at his place and blackjack- his pet rat, started nibbling on your fingers and you nearly dropped the damned thing.

nothing ever seemed to go as planned when your paths crossed. it was as if the gods themselves conspired to curse your time together, weaving misfortune into every interaction, a twisted, modern-day version of romeo and juliet. yet, no matter how things unraveled, the night would always end the same: with laughter, warmth, and the unmistakable feeling that none of it mattered as long as you were together.

the stupidest shit could happen on the days that you've planned to see each other on, and no matter what, you two would find a way to work it out, without fail.

standing here now, would telling you ruin everything that's been? divide you two back on your separate roads, the way fate wants it to be?

he's tired of guessing.

twisting black painted nails around the width of your hand, he moves your palm up to the plain of his chest, and your brows raise. he lays it close to his collarbone, but far down enough that the flat of your hand meets the rapid thudding in his body.

"feel how fast my heart's beating?"

you nod.

"would'ja drive a stake through it? spare me my autonomy, quiet the rhythm in my ears and leave me no longer breathing?"

he's closer to you now, the x's in his pupils trailing your every feature, taking in the way your cheeks flush and your lids lower.

"would you consider that mercy? no longer needing to confront your emotions?"

he gives you the slightest smile at your response, the void in his gaze sucking you in as he lays a thumb under the curve of your lower lids, brushing over your cheekbone, smearing a few water droplets across your cheek.

"who wouldn't? that's the beauty in being human, in feeling all these...things. gives us so many weaknesses, so many flaws, but so, so much to discover."

he's almost grinning ear to ear at the sight of your eye twitching irritably, a tight lipped smile spread on your face as you huff. he can tell you want him to get to the point.

so he will.

"ronin, stop all the cryptic talk. just, tell me what's going o-"

"i'm in love with you."

and the warmth pumping through your cheeks increased by tenfold, for a moment, the cogs in your brain just... stalled. you blinked, once, twice, staring at him like he'd just spoke in a language you didn't know.

"wait... what?" the words tumbled out before you could stop them, a mix of confusion and disbelief your words.

"you... you like me?"

"did i stutter?"

"no, no, i-i just...like, like like me?"

it was adorable; how doubting you were, your words almost frantic. and it wasn't in a 'ew, you like me?' type of manner, it was more of a 'oh my god, you like me? me!?' way.

he now has both of his hands cupping your face, thumbing along the corner of your lips and you're even warmer- or maybe it's just because he's drenched in rain water and you're only slightly damp.

"is there somethin' wrong with me for likin' you?"

and just like that, the tables turned. you're the one who's flustered and trying to explain yourself while he's just smug watching your panicked display with a grin.

"no! no, it's just- i'm...dumbfounded. i mean, i didn't really see it coming. are you...sure?"

he's more than 100% sure, but if you need some more convincing, he doesn't mind.

"want me to prove it to ya?"

his jaw's already nearing yours and a low timbre wedges in the tangle of his vocal chords, words sweet and curious.

his question was rhetorical- he knew you wanted him to, and your irises giving his lips a quick glance confirmed it.

"well? i'm waiting in the wings."

you give a slow nod, hands running up to the broadness of his shoulders before he dipped forward and...

the soft pout of your bottom lip met the cracked surface of his, and it couldn't have been more perfect, the trailing of your fingers rising through the soaked locks sticking to his skin. you're warm, really warm, and he doesn't want to let you go.

and suddenly he can breathe again, the tension compressed in his body releasing all at once, he, for one, finally feels free at the maddening press of your skin to his.

the faint taste of alcohol dances between you two, and your tongue gives a light swipe over his bottom lip in response to it, as if trying to get a better taste.

have you come from the abyssal sky above to grace him salvation? to save him from the endless pits of his own sin? to cut him apart with gentle hands, to dissect him with hushed promises of alleviating the burning ache in his chest?

because the warm cradle of your embrace sets his soul alight, and he's burning up like a dry weed catching the first sparks of summer's relentless rays.

it's been so long since he was last touched like this. since he's had someone to cradle, someone to hold, to kiss, to love.

he's been saved by you, and not in the biblical sense, no, he's damned no matter how you look at it. but he no longer feels lost, no longer yearning, craving something he thinks he can't have.

eventually, you have to pull away, his arms still slung over the dip of your back, and yours still around the nape of his neck.

"whaddya say? wanna be my partner in crime?"

you cringe, your nose scrunching in utter distaste at his title for you and you pitch a playful whack on his chest, a curl lingering on your lips.

"were you always this cheesy?"

he's about to respond with a teasing quip back, but then-

"ah-achoo!" his head pivots away from you and into the crease of his elbow, sneezing into his arm and he sniffles quietly.

"i uh, might have to take you up on that offer you proposed earlier?"

"see! i told you!"

----

hi teehee thanks for reading sorry this definitely sucks ass in some parts bc i rushed this last minute, lots of things here were just made up/headcanons about his character

i....i finished editing it....2000 words officially brought back from the dead...i couldn't have done it without the power of friendship ‼️

#killer chat #ronin beaufort #kc!#killer chat ronin #ronin #visual novel #x reader #ronin beaufort x reader #my fallen valentines

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kneelingshadowsalome · 2 years ago

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Oh god, I was just giggling so hard at howdy anons ask and your reply about reader letting König wait (sending a smooch to you both ❤️😘). He really deserves to suffer a little like that lol! Just imagining this guy, who likes to see himself as so strong and dominant, especially towards woman, slowly but surely lose his fucking marbles... And all because of that sweet little lady, who has his horniness in a bloody choke hold - not even realising the power she has over him. He's never had to show this much restraint... And he does hold back because, he even more likes to see himself as a gentlemen towards his sweetie (one who will absolutely ruin and wreck her once she let's him off his leash and takes the muzzle off). Poor little Köni.

I can see him letting out this sexual frustration at training for example. He is working these punching bags like absolutely batshit crazy. Destroying gym equipment, because he goes in so hard and has just soooo much pent up energy after every little cuddling session with sweet reader and doesn't know what to do with hit (violently masturbating after being with her hardly helps...). The other operators at the base gym just side eying him and wondering, if he now reached the final state of madness and silently prepare for the explosion that will wipe out all life on earth...

Also: we are really branching out with the toxic König brand here. First the institute, now the book club. I'm loving the growth here. Maby we can establish some kind of co working space next at toxic König headquarters, so we all have a place where we can thirst efficiently and just pump these numbers up even more for Toxic König Inc. (TKI). I can see an involvement in the stock market by next quarter at this growth rate. Maby some Tupperware-esk door to door sales to get more people hooked on to toxic König? (ok, that sounds to much like a cult now...)

Haha this is so crazy, all I wanted was to make Ghost happy, get him laid, perhaps even get him married… but here I am, 6 months later, having this blog and wondering which content warnings to slap on another König post where we discuss his obsession with virgins and their mythical hymen blood 💕

He destroys the punching bag (RIP) and somehow manages to rip the pull up bar from the concrete wall. His deadlifts can be heard all the way to the mess – envious rookies would say König is doing it wrong, that it's a major error in execution, but the veterans know better... This crazy lunatic is simply having trouble with women (again).

But you know what would make König nearly faint?

When sweet innocent reader finally allows his hands roam a bit!

He's allowed to caress her waist as they cuddle, she even lets him bring his huge palm on her tits – it feels like the most erotic thing ever, just to paw those soft breasts over her shirt. And what happens next is that she rolls her hips – König holds his breath – she's actually pressing her ass against his cock. Of course they're still wearing clothes, but her movements are nothing short of sexual.

It makes his brain shut down completely, but soon he's panting in her ear, grinding his groin against the swell of her ass in rhythm with her movements. She doesn't stop him when his hand slowly, tentatively shifts down, then forces its way under the waistband of her pants – ach du Scheiße, it's finally happening… Can this be real?

His fingers slip under her underwear and arrive on her soft mound. He tries to shove his hand further down and into her folds but then – Scheiße – delicate fingers curl around his wrist and pick his hand up from paradise.

"Please… I'm just not ready yet," she explains gently, and the German curses in his mind are loud and foul as König tries to catch his breath and ignore the fact that his boxers are painfully tight and now stained and wet with precum.

"Let me lick your cunt," he offers with a hoarse voice while she's still holding him by the wrist, denying access to her. "Bitte... I just want to have a taste..."

Sweet reader goes tense and turns, looks at the soldier who has a funny accent and weird mannerisms, the soldier who was supposed to be a gentleman, with parted lips and eyes wide from shock.

"König, you can't say things like that…!"

#his head explodes after that #we thought he was a villain but NO this is where his villain arc BEGINS #she drives him to madness #I wonder what happens when König can't play the gentleman anymore 🥹#yandere könig #answered #könig x virgin!reader #könig x virgin reader

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hyuuukais · 10 months ago

Text

⋆.˚𖦹°‧✮‧°𖦹˚.⋆ ERROR 404

pairing ~ yang jeongin x fem reader

synopsis ~ y/n starts getting messages from an unknown number after buying a used phone for cheap. as she finds out more about the boy she's talking to, it turns out there's much more to this than a wrong number --- he died, and she's talking to his spirit, yet he has no idea what happened to him. will y/n have what it takes to solve the mystery of his death? or will the boy's spirit remained trapped in his phone?

warnings ~ gen, blood, pregnancy/giving birth (not in detail), minor character death (does it count if it's a memory? lol)

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

CH 6 - RELIVING THE PAST (3.1k + 2 screenshots)

You once again find yourself flipping the sign on the flower shop door to 'closed' as you wait for Minho. This time, you're waiting in the back room; you may as well get some work done to pass the time. Another order came in last night, right before close. Changbin almost refused it, but the way the person spoke convinced him somehow, he didn't elaborate much. It was a beautiful arrangement of deep, richly coloured black dahlias with monkshood for a purple accent, all neatly tied with a purple ribbon. Although you loved the end product, you couldn't help the sinister feeling creeping up your spine

There's a chill in the air, but when you turn away from your workstation, there's nothing. Of course there isn't, you're closed. What were you expecting, another ghost? Jeongin, maybe? A part of you was hoping to see Jeongin, no sign of him since the last texts, but you know he's spent a lot of energy seeing you so often. You stay turned around on your stool, leaning against your workstation as you close your eyes and exhale loudly. It's silent, save for a faint dripping from a leak somewhere in the greenhouse connected to the workroom.

Standing, you decide to take a walk through the greenhouse; it's been a while since you took some time to just be with the plants and relax, letting your fingers graze petals and leaves of all shapes, colours, and sizes. You stop at the end, noticing one bunch wilting right under the leak, and you look up. Changbin put an order in to get it fixed, but it's clear you'll need a temporary solution before it kills your iris plant. Although it should be just water leaking, so you're unsure why it's having this effect...

"Y/n? Are you still back here?" You can hear Changbin bounding down the stairs, calling your name. "Where'd you go...?"

"In the greenhouse!" You shout, giving one last look to the flowers before heading back inside. "I'm here."

"Minho is here, I told him to wait in the front," Changbin announces, shifting uncomfortably. You can tell he's unsure of Minho's presence, having not spoken to him in so long.

"I'll go bring him back here," You say, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Feel free to escape upstairs."

He scoffs at your light teasing, a small smile on his face. "I'll wait at the front desk in case you need me to toss him or something."

You laugh a bit at that, the image of Changbin picking up Minho and throwing him out of the store. The two of you enter the storefront, Changbin moving to sit behind the counter, and you moving to greet Minho. He catches your eye before you get too close, and you offer a smile; he nods in return and waits for you to lead him away. When you re-enter the backroom, you sit on your stool and lean against the wooden workstation, letting him choose a seat.

The workplace isn't huge, with your desk on one side and Changbins on the other, a small, rectangular wooden table in between to place finished works on. There's a bit of an overhang to the table on one end that flips up, a spare stool underneath that Minho slides out and sits on, mimicking your posture against the table behind him. You watch him move his head to look at the painted table, teal and chipping to match the rest of the room, the black tiled floor tying it together. His fingers brush over a raw spot, and you wonder if he has anything to do with the chunk of wood missing from that part of the table, knowing it's been there longer than you've worked here.

"So, this favour," Minho doesn't look away from the table as he speaks. "What is it?"

"I need you to look into someone," You clear your throat. "Find someone, really. My brother."

"You have a brother?" Now, his head shoots up toward you, and so do his eyebrows.

"Apparently," You shrug, barely holding his intense stare. "Maybe you could look into birth records or something."

"Maybe," Minho agrees, hand curling away from the piece of wood.

After an uncomfortably long period of staring at each other, you speak again. "So, what is it you need me to do?"

"Ah," Minho readjusts on the stool, crossing his arms against his chest and briefly looking away. "That, right. Can you use your abilities on command?"

"Not really-"

"Can you try?" He cuts you off, and you sense a hint of desperation in his voice.

"Is this about your partner?" You ask, squinting at him. When he doesn't reply immediately, you have your answer. "You want me to find him, don't you?"

"Not exactly. I wanted to bring you back to where he and I were undercover and find the people who took him." You give him a look to ask, why me?, and he sighs. "Everyone left, but three men stayed behind to finish me off when I came looking for Jisu- Detective Han, but clearly their plan fell through because I'm still here. If we go back, maybe you can see them and we can force them to tell me where they took him."

You blink at him. "Do you forget that I'm not a detective of like, any kind? Interrogation skills are not something I possess, and besides, why would they tell you literally anything if they're already dead? What are the consequences for them?"

All the questions you pose register behind Minho's eyes, you can see the gears turning as he tries and fails to come up with an answer, leaning further back on the chipped table. He looks down, smirking and shaking his head, and you want to take him by the shoulders and shake the rest of him. After more silence, he looks back up at you.

"You're right, they won't want to tell me," He says, standing from his stool and walking toward you. Minho places a hand on either side of you, resting on your workstation. "Which is why you have to bring your friend, Jeongin."

"What's he going to do?" You ask, trying not to get intimidated by the closeness of his face to yours, or the way his eyes bore into you.

"I'm sure he can think of something," Minho only backs away slightly, hands still caging you in. "Now, will you do it? This, in exchange for the birth records?"

You grit your teeth. As much as you want Minho to just help you, no strings attached, you know it's not fair, especially with something so big. With him no longer being with any kind of department, you're sure him getting caught snooping through those records would have him in serious trouble, trouble you got him into that wouldn't have happened if he never agreed to help you in the first place. This is the least you can do for him.

"Fine," You agree, voice low.

"Thank you," Minho exhales, finally stepping away from you, his hands finding his pockets again. "And I have a suggestion for your part, but I don't know how much good it will do if you can't summon your ability yourself."

"What is it?"

"Changbin told me you've been going to places to visit Jeongin's memories and essentially reliving them, why don't you try that for your mother?"

"Okay, hold on. You and Changbin have been talking again?" He shrugs, clearly not thinking anything of it, but you can't believe Changbin didn't tell you. "Whatever. What do you mean by trying it with my mom? Like, going back to the graveyard? Because I'm pretty sure there's a super angry spirit that lowkey controls the place, and I'm not trying to get all of my energy sucked up."

"No, but going somewhere she might have memories of you and your brother," He says, blinking at you.

"She died during childbirth, she has no memories of us." But then you clue in, eyes widening. "She died during childbirth... the hospital, maybe, where we were born! Oh my god, you're a genius!"

You want to jump up and squeeze Minho in a hug, but that's both unlike you and you think he'd threaten you if you tried to. Instead, you rub your hands on your thighs and take a deep breath, standing up to retrieve your bag which is hanging by the greenhouse door. Putting it over your shoulder, you turn and see not only Minho now standing, but Changbin in the doorway. Changbin is leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and a worried expression on his face.

"You're not going alone," At the sound of his voice, Minho turns around, but Changbin keeps his eyes on you.

"Jeongin will be there too, Bin," You try to reassure him, but you know what he's going to say next.

"I'm coming with you, no arguments," Changbin props himself up straight, hands on his hips. "You told me before the hospital is shut down, so it's gonna be hard to get in there and I'm not letting you do that alone after all the close calls you've had! Besides, you need someone cute to distract any security."

Laughing at his last comment, you move past him and head to the front door. Night is setting in when you walk out, a cold breeze sending a chill through your body as you unlock your car. Changbin locks up after Minho comes out and you watch him head to his own vehicle, Changbin watching as he comes down the steps and puts a hand on the passenger's side door. As Minho drives off, you look at Changbin, unable to read the mixed look on his face, but not wanting to press about it either.

By the time you reach the hospital, it's completely dark out, the moon high in the sky and obscured by clouds. There doesn't seem to be any security, surprisingly, but there is a big metal fence surrounding the perimeter. The once busy area is a ghost town, but you hope not literally, all the buildings closed down and boarded up with washed out signs offering a lease. Approaching the main gate, you see the bolt has already been cut, the chain very loosely put back in place, probably by some teenagers who wanted to explore.

An eerie feeling washes over you when you cross the threshold onto the property, immediately sensing the tragedies that had to have occurred here for it to be shut down only a few years after opening. This whole area was assumed to be cursed, making you even more nervous as you walked up the steps and gently opened the creaky door, Changbin right behind you as you go inside. There's been no sign of Jeongin all day; you hope he's okay. You're immediately greeted by a nurse, her pale complexion telling.

"Hi there, are you here to visit someone?" She asks from behind the desk, ghostly fingers running over the keyboard to a dead computer. "I'll check you in in just a moment, okay? Sit tight, you can sit on one of those chairs."

She waves to an area behind you, but there are no chairs, only empty space. When you look back to her, she's focused on the device in front of her and you can see the dark circles under her eyes and the way she moves her neck uncomfortably, wondering how she died. Perhaps her unfinished business is her job, all of the patients left untreated once the hospital closed. You also wonder why she's working the front desk when she's not a receptionist, but maybe things don't have to make sense in the afterlife.

After a few minutes have passed, she stands and exhales, plastering a tired smile on her face as she nods you over. Telling her your mother's name, she begins to lead you down several corridors until you reach the maternity ward, which is almost completely silent compared to the groans and moans you heard behind closed doors on the way over. Whether that's more unsettling or comforting, you can't decide.

"Here she is!" The nurse opens the door, and you look around the empty room. As soon as you turn back around, she's shutting the door quickly with that same tired smile on her face. You panic, rushing up to the door and trying to open it, but it won't budge.

"Let me," Changbin moves you aside gently, sensing your rising nerves when the door won't open, but it doesn't move for him either.

A noise from behind you startles you, turning quickly to see a woman in bed, a man holding her hand from the side and using a towel to wipe the sweat from her forehead. You immediately recognize your mother, and although you don't know him, you recognize your father as well. This is the first time you've seen his face, but the feeling of familiarity is overwhelming.

He's whispering encouraging thoughts into her ears and she shouts once the doctor at the end of the bed tells her to push, the sound of crying filling the room. Your mother has tears of her own starting to stream down her face, urging your father to take the baby from the nurse once she's done with him, a large smile on his face. Suddenly, the expression on your mother turns from elation to pain, and you can tell something is wrong when the nurse delivering the second baby calls for backup. As she's working, your mother's head lolls to the side, and a loud monotone beep sounds.

Now, there are doctors and nurses rushing around the room trying to save the baby and the mother, and you can't seem to tear your eyes away from the scene. There's a mass amount of blood pooling at her legs, no baby to be seen. Your eyes flicker back up when you hear the monotone beep turn back to normal, your own tears welling as you watch your mother open her eyes, but only for a moment until they're screwed up in pain again. The doctor is urging for a c-section, but she's already pushing before the decision is final, the other baby coming out in no time. She's breathing too heavily, shaking and sweating, and the baby doesn't cry this time. You watch her whisper something in her husband's ear, watch as he holds onto her sobbing when the line goes flat again, watch as he's pushed to the side to let the doctors work, and watch as the doctors slowly stop, announcing the time of death right as the baby cries.

Your father backs away when the nurse approaches with the second baby, telling him it's a girl, and he can barely even look her in the eye. He's holding the baby in his arms tightly, the one you assume is your brother, and shakes his head before his expression turns angry.

"She's cursed," He says, loudly enough to make you flinch. "I don't want her. Take her away!"

His voice raises with each word, and you shrink into yourself. Once the nurse backs away, you can see your father look down at the baby in his arms fondly, but there's still a hint of disdain lingering in his features as he cradles and soothes the baby's cries. As the nurse takes the other baby out, you watch her leave, and when you turn back around, the scene has changed back to what you walked into, nothing.

There are arms around you in an instant as you crumble to the ground, knees giving out under you and a loud sob heaving from your chest. You can't stop crying, hands out in front of you holding onto the floor and the only thing keeping you from curling into yourself is the hold Changbin has on you. It's like you can't breathe all of a sudden, the sobs rattling your body, drowning from your own tears. Eventually, you find Changbin has moved your back against him, rocking you back and forth until your eyes have run dry, but the soft hand that wipes the remaining tears away isn't his.

"Y/n," Jeongin says gently, taking your face in his hands. "Shhh, you're okay."

With the comfort of Jeongin and Changbin, you can feel your energy returning to you slowly. The memory still lingers in your mind as you hand Changbin your keys and let him drive you home, offering to stay the night. You stay silent, shaking your head and heading inside, catching Jeongin in reflections as you walk through the dark house. There's not enough strength in your legs to carry you to your room, opting to flop onto your couch instead. Your phone buzzes in your pocket, but you don't answer, closing your eyes and letting sleep take you.

Minho sits across from you at your dining table, leaning forward slightly. He's damp from the rain outside, his coat hanging on a hook by your door. Rain hits your window aggressively, wind howling and whistling. You're staring at him with wide eyes, trying to process his words.

"It's Hyunjin. Your brother is Hyunjin."

Jeongin is pacing behind you, the chair next to you skewed from when he stood up. It doesn't make sense to you at first, but then you start to really think about it. Your adoptive family lived in the same area, but you never crossed paths, and being kept in all-girls schools until you moved across the city now making sense. And your mother being buried there too, somewhere close to the both of you. Thinking of your father's rejection still stings, but you remember the look on his face as he cradled Hyunjin in his arms, the hidden contempt well masked. You don't want to think about the childhood he had.

"You're sure?" You ask, voice barely above a whisper.

"Positive," Minho keeps his voice low.

You remember the dream you had, back in a house you didn't recognize; the ruined family photos, the candlelit pathway, all leading to him. Hyunjin. And you realize something, something you should have thought of when you found out you even had a brother.

"He has the same ability, I think," You say, locking eyes with Minho, and you can hear Jeongin stop moving. You explain the dream quickly. "I think he's trying to figure out what happened to Jeongin too."

notes ~ chapter !!!!!! woo !!!!!!!!! i am actually so excited to write the next one though, there's one scene i literally cannot wait to share aaaaa!!!!!

taglist ~ @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143 @bloomingstay @sona1800

@dollschan @defnotfertilizedtoesw @thisisnotjacinta @kayleigh-28 @kayleefriedchicken

@lailac13 @linocvp1d @ilov3jeong1n @mooseung @kkamismom12

reply or send an ask to be added (18+)^^^ green means i can't tag you

#⋆.˚𖦹°‧✮‧°𖦹˚.⋆ ERROR 404 #skz #stray kids #yang jeongin x reader #yang jeongin x fem reader #yang jeongin #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #yang jeongin fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #skz series #yang jeongin series #smau #partial smau #non idol au #i.n x reader #i.n x fem reader

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echoflowerwhispers · 15 days ago

Note

Hiii you’re really cool and stufff uhhh I didn’t actually play this ask out….take this as a free rant about why character(s) to us card…-?

OMG VINNY HIIIII!!! You get this very special discord screenshot because you're my fav asker :3

Ranting below the cut!! (Its about Error btw)

I don't really have a lot of headcanons for him so instead I'll just explain stuff from my version of the utmv!!

Error has amnesia and doesn't remember how he came to be. He woke up in the Antivoid one day with nothing but a hatred for AUs.

He slowly learned to use his powers, and after he deemed himself strong enough, he began destroying AUs. Eventually, he met Blue that way, and Blue was the first to show him sympathy, so of course, he had to kidnap him. Blue tried his best to stay calm and not annoy Error, but eventually, he began to close in on himself and lose the hope of ever being able to go back home. He was depressed and his mental state made Error worry for him. Error, never having felt such an emotion for someone before, returned Blue back to his AU and denied the fact he actually cared about Blue.

He met Ink a while after that. His distruction brought Ink's attention, and now Ink wanted to see what the fuss was about. Ink was nothing like Blue, but he still tried to understand Error. Unfortunately, Ink is annoying as fuck so Error became his sworn enemy. They always fought over petty things even while they were having an actual battle. That never changes lol.

One day, while spying on random AUs, Error saw Nightmare talking to Sci. From what he heard, Nightmare was a powerful and dangerous monster who crushed all who stood before him. Error, thinking he was better than him, decided to pay Nightmare a visit. They had a small fight in Nightmare's kitchen, and Error somehow came out victorious. Unfortunately for Error, he started to feel bad for hitting the guy over the head with a kettle, so he took him to Sci and left him there. When Nightmare came back to the castle, he found Error binging UnderNovela on his sofa (I wrote a fic about the bad guys, and this stuff is also part of it if you wanna read more about it lol).

Error eventually made an 'alliance' with Nightmare, refusing to call it what it is (a friendship). He likes to visit the castle and hangs out with Nightmare in OuterTale sometimes.

What will happen in the future:

Error and Ink will form a truce, and for the first time in forever, Error will stop avoiding Blue and actually talk to him.

Error will catch feelings for Ink and break their truce to avoid having to see Ink (he'll still see Ink but only when they fight). Eventually, Ink will find Error in OuterTale, and they will talk about it.

The truce is back again, but the idiots still avoid each other because awkward lol.

Dream and Nightmare have their truce prompting Ink to ask Error to live with him since it's gonna be boring, not fighting and stuff. Error agrees after a few days of thinking it over.

The two start dating (much to Nightmare's annoyance), and Ink starts working on getting rid of Error's phobia through exposure therapy.

Headcanons:

Error likes knitting but hates crochet because "it's too complicated"

He likes looking at the stars but can't remember why. Therefore, OuterTale was the first AU he didn't instantly want to destroy.

He needs glasses to see short distances, but he hates wearing them.

He likes cute things, but he'll never admit it (this is mostly about the dolls).

He can't actually speak Spanish, but he pretends he can.

He has back problems from sleeping on a bean bag.

He worries the people who care about him will see him the same way the others see him.

He only eats junk food because he doesn't actually need to eat, so why bother eating healthy.

I probably have more headcanons, but I'm really tired rn and need to sleep so uhh yeah. OKAY BYE!!!!

#sans au #sans undertale #undertale au #sans #utmv #undertale multiverse #undertale #utmv au #undertale aus #error #error sans #errorink #headcannons #headcanon #rant post #rant #dont listen to the salmon #drugs are bad mmkay

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asirensrage · 2 years ago

Text

A Bet's a Bet - Kyojuro x Reader x Tengen oneshot

Title: A Bet's a Bet Rating: Explicit Fandom: Demon Slayer Pairing: Uzui Tengen x Female!Reader x Rengoku Kyojuro (side Kyojuro x Tengen) Warnings: Smut. Threesome. A bit ooc. Oral. Swearing. Sex. (Seriously. Heed the rating.) Unbeta’d.

Summary: Modern!AU. A night at Laser Tag goes from potential disaster to something incredible.

Notes: This is based on this post with @comatosebunny09. This turned out longer than I planned because the characters kept running away from me and doing their own thing. I was just along for the ride. This is also a little more detailed than usual (but it had to be because of the logistics of this). These men will be the death of me lol. Unbeta'd so please forgive any errors. As usual, undescribed/unnamed female reader. Enjoy and please lmk what you think!

Laser tag. Fucking laser tag.

“Come on! It’ll be fun!” Your friend pleads with you.

“I don’t want to go play against a bunch of kids,” you say. It’s a lie. The truth is you have no desire to go on what you know is a set-up double date with her boyfriend and one of his friends. The same one you’ve already told her you’re not interested in.

“Please! I promise I’ll never ask for anything ever again. Just come! Have some fun! I promise that there’s not even any kids there, it’s just adults. They’re running longer games now.”

You stare at her dubiously but then she uses that same pleading look that you know has gotten her out of multiple speeding tickets. “Fine. This is the last time, got it?”

“I promise!”

Somehow, you doubt that.

You were right in the fact that it ended up being some fake double date that you didn’t agree to. Her boyfriend brought a friend, the same one you knew he would, and they gave you both some space to talk. Even when you didn’t want to. Thankfully, she was alright right in the fact that you weren’t surrounded by some kids. There were other adults playing. You caught a glimpse of the group that went in ahead of yours, catching sight of broad shoulders and bright hair.

Thankfully the place seems huge and it’s dark. As soon as you get in, you ditch your group. You’re not about to spend the next twenty minutes having the guy trail you while trying to convince you he’s good at this.

You forgot how much fun laser tag is. You spend some time running and ducking for cover. You haven’t seen your friend but it’s only a matter of time. As soon as you find her, you’re taking them all out. As much as you can, at least.

You step backwards as someone comes running and jump as you bump into someone.

“Sorry about that!” they say. You turn and aim.

You can barely make out his blond hair under the dark lights but he has an easy smile and isn’t aiming his gun at you. “No problem,” you say.

“Might be fortunate,” he grins. His eyes glance down at the blue light that marks your vest. His was marked with red. “We’re unfortunately not on the same team but I won’t shoot.”

You frown slightly, confused. “Why not?”

“Maybe I want to stay on your good side.”

You smile slightly at the flirtation. It wasn’t completely easy to tell with the way the lights changed and the noise of people yelling at each other.

“I caught some of your movements. Are you looking for someone in particular?”

“Yeah, my friend.” You describe her quickly. “I’m going to make sure she loses. Badly.” His eyebrows raise at your tone and both of you duck as soon as you hear someone come close. “She roped me into coming and surprised me with a double date, with someone I already told her I wasn’t interested in.”

“That’s not kind of her,” he says.

“Nope. So she’s going down.”

“Would you like help?”

“You any good?”

“Allow me to show you.”

Kyojuro, as he introduces himself, is fantastic. He moves with apparent ease through the arena, yanking you out of the way a couple of times and pulling you tight against his chest. He apologizes the first time but when you tell him it’s fine, he does not stop. The strength in the movements has you more flustered than you expected.

You find the friend of the boyfriend and both of you shoot him before running for it. You’re still searching for your friend when someone suddenly appears before you. You shoot instantly.

“Good shot!”

Kyojuro steps in front of you and you glance back to make sure you’re not being cornered.

“Kyo!” The man in front of him says. “Found something interesting, have you?”

“I might have!” Kyojuro steps to the side. “Allow me to introduce you,” he says, motioning towards you. “This is one of my friends, Tengen.” Tengen is huge. You can make out enough to tell that he’s tall and extremely built, but he doesn’t set off your instincts telling you you’re in danger. He grins at you, seemingly not upset at the fact that you shot him.

“Think you can do it again?”

“Maybe,” you say not giving any promises because he's not your main target but you couldn't resist.

“Of course, she can!” Kyojuro says. You smile at the confidence he has in you.

“Then why don't we make a bet?” Tengen leans closer. “Winner take all. If I win with the top ranking, you come out for dinner with us.” He motions towards Kyojuro and himself. That would at least get you out of going to dinner with your friend.

“And if I win?" you ask.

“You shoot me again, you can have anything you want.”

“Alright,” you agree. You don’t know what you’d ask for but you could decide later.

Tengen winks at both of you before he somehow disappears back into the shadows. You look around quickly, but you can’t see him anywhere.

“How the hell did he do that?”

“Don’t ask,” Kyojuro says. “Better not to know. Come on, let’s find your friend.”

You both manage to find your friend and her boyfriend and stalk them, shooting them repeatedly and laughing when they’re unable to catch you. That’s thanks due to Kyojuro, but you have the feeling that Tengen is somehow helping you both. You never see him though and when the lights finally turn on, all of you are ushered out to the leaderboard. Standing at rank 1 with a new high score is Tengen. Of course, it is.

You finally get a good look at Kyojuro. He’s tall and well-built, getting out of his vest with the ease of having done this before. He turns to help you. You try not to stare but his eyes are as vibrant as his hair and when he grins at you knowingly, your stomach flutters. You glance around to figure out which one Tengen is when you’re distracted as someone calls your name.

“There you are!”

You turn to see your friend coming up to you, her boyfriend and your unwanted date following.

“I thought we were supposed to do this together, but you ran off.” Your friend says, her gaze flickering to the man beside you. Kyojuro turned with you to face them but he’s quiet now, letting you choose how to respond.

“Is the whole point of laser tag to not be seen?” You ask. “Besides, I made allies.”

“I can see that,” she says. “Are you ready to go?”

An arm settles itself over your shoulders before you can answer and you find yourself pulled slightly into a large body. You glance up, catching sight of white hair and ruby-coloured eyes that wink down at you.

“I’m afraid we’re going to be stealing her,” the man holding you says. Tengen, you realize as you recognize the voice.

“What?” Your friend looks alarmed, gaze going between the three of you as Kyojuro moves slightly closer.

“My friend and yours made a bet,” Kyojuro says. “If Tengen made top rank, she would join us for dinner tonight.”

“Not only did I rank number one, but I broke a new record. Quite flashy, don’t you agree?”

It takes a second for you to realize he’s talking to you. “Oh yeah, absolutely.”

Your friend looks unimpressed at you but considering you didn’t want to be here in the first place and she surprised you into this faux double date, you’re not that bothered by it.

“Sorry,” you say. “A bet’s a bet, right? Besides, we can have dinner another time.” You raise your eyebrows at her, daring her to protest.

“We came here together,” she says slowly. “How will you get home?”

“We’ll drive her,” Tengen says.

“We’ll make sure she gets home safely.” It sounds like a promise coming from Kyojuro.

“I’ll be fine,” you tell her. “Don’t worry. I’ll text you, okay?”

She looks at you warily but nods. “Okay. Make sure you do.” She looks at the men on either side of you. “You better not hurt her or I swear to God…”

“We won’t,” Kyojuro says. “Would you like to take a picture of us? Just in case.”

She looks as surprised at the offer as you are but she agrees. Kyojuro wraps an arm around your waist and smiles. You feel Tengen pose next to you but she takes what’s likely more than one picture. “Okay. If you murder her, I’ll find you.”

Tengen laughs. “Don’t worry, if she screams, it won’t be from murder.”

You can see your friend’s boyfriend’s jaw drop at the blatant insinuation and your friend’s eyes widen before she grins at you. She moves forward and hugs you tightly before whispering, “Tell me everything tomorrow, okay?”

You laugh and wave her off, promising to contact her. You watch as they leave and Kyojuro slips away to say goodbye to their friends. Tengen doesn’t drop his arm since you haven’t shaken him off. Its weight is oddly comforting.

“You really didn’t want to go with them, did you?” Tengen asks.

You look up at him. “No. I basically got tricked into a double date with her boyfriend's friend. It’s not the first time either and I already told her I wasn’t interested. Spending dinner with you two is a much more preferable choice, even if we did just meet.”

He bends down slightly to get closer to you. “Well then, we’ll just have to make it worth your while, won’t we?”

They take you to a restaurant that is within walking distance. The men walk on either side of you, drawing you into conversation and telling you about how they became friends. You can’t help but laugh as Tengen expresses the admiration he felt when he met Kyojuro, simply for how the man dealt with one of their abrasive friends Sanemi. You think you can see Kyojuro redden as Tengen teases but the conversation pauses as you reach the restaurant. It’s cute and busy. You don’t know how they manage it, but the men get you a booth. Once you agree, you find yourself encased between them again when you sit down.

Despite the size of them and the way they seem to tower over you even sitting, you don’t feel diminished between them. They keep you engaged in conversation, asking questions about your life while sharing more about theirs. Kyojuro promises that his hair is completely natural and tells you it’s because his ancestors loved tempura. It makes you laugh.

“You have a gorgeous laugh, angel,” Tengen says, leaning slightly so his lips are closer to your ear.

“You think so?” You ask, turning slightly to grin at him. You’re still not entirely sure where their attraction was coming from, but you weren’t opposed to it. Especially since neither of them seemed bothered by the other. You wonder to yourself if they’ve done this before.

“Definitely.” You see his eye glance down at your lips but before either of you can do more than look, the waitress comes back with your orders.

“Here, try this.”

You turn to Kyojuro who’s holding up a bite of his meal. He nods, moving it slightly closer but ultimately waiting for your response. You lean forward, meeting his eyes as you take a bite. He watches you carefully and you’re distracted from the weight of his stare by the taste of his meal. “Wow.”

“It’s delicious, right?”

“It is!” You grin at him, gaze flicking down to his mouth before you meet his eyes again. Your breath hitches in your throat. He leans forward slowly, putting the utensil down.

“May I kiss you?” he asks softly.

You feel Tengen shift behind you. His chin rests slightly on your shoulder. “You should, angel,” Tengen says. “He’s a fantastic kisser.” Your mind goes blank slightly at the thought of how Tengen knows that but you nod.

Kyojuro reaches over and touches your jaw slightly. Your eyes close as he gets close and his lips brush against yours gently. His kiss is soft at first, just testing the waters. Tengen pushes you slightly, pressing you closer to Kyojuro who opens his mouth and deepens the kiss. It’s easy to lose yourself in it, especially with the heat of Tengen at your back whose hand slides up your arm.

When you break the kiss, you meet Kyojuro’s eyes. His pupils are blown wide and he grins at you. He darts forward, kissing you quickly again before he pulls back. “Like I said, delicious.”

Tengen laughs behind you and you turn to face him better, wanting to make sure he wasn’t feeling left out.

“Was I right?” he asks, nudging you slightly.

“I might need some more convincing,” you tease, unwilling to give in that easily.

Tengen just grins. “How about a comparison?” He bends down, capturing your lips with his. His palm is warm against the small of your back and you can feel Kyojuro’s thigh pressing against yours as Tengen takes control of the kiss. He kisses like he’s trying to get a rise out of you, as though he’s attempting to find out the exact way to make you moan against him. You break the kiss first, unwilling to forget where you are and end up embarrassing yourself. He looks at you like he knows. Tengen looks over your head at Kyojuro. “You were right, it’s delicious.”

Kyojuro laughs.

Dinner ends with Tengen’s hand on your thigh, fingers curling on the inside, tapping out a beat in his mind that leaves you squirming slightly, wishing he went higher. You suspect that if you were in a skirt or dress, his hands would tease higher against your skin. Kyojuro keeps taking the chance to kiss you and winds his fingers between yours, holding your hand. They continue to check in, making sure that you’re comfortable with every action they take. You’re aware of some of the looks the three of you are getting, but both Tengen and Kyojuro don’t seem bothered by them and continue to distract you by asking questions and telling stories.

“Come home with us?” Tengen asks after their refusal to let you chip in for dinner. The three of you are standing outside the restaurant.

“You don’t have to,” Kyojuro says. “We can simply take you home, but we’ve enjoyed this and would like to continue. Only if you’re interested.”

Tengen throws an arm over Kyojuro’s shoulders. “What do you say? Want to continue? See how flashy the night can get?”

You look at the way they are completely at ease with each other, how there’s absolutely no pressure to say yes. Every single moment since you’ve met them, they’ve been careful to be mindful of what you want and ask if it was okay. You get the sense that if you said no, they’d stay true to their word and take you home with no hard feelings, numbers still exchanged. These men had made a shit situation a hell of a lot better and now were promising to make your night something to remember.

You smile at them both. “Absolutely.”

Kyojuro’s apartment is closest.

You take Tengen’s car and Kyojuro sits in the back. Another step to make sure you feel comfortable, that you’re not just being carted off to one of their places. You text your friend on the way, telling her you’re going home with them. The encouragement your friend sends back makes you grin. You promise to check in with her later before locking your phone.

“Everything alright?” Kyojuro asks, leaning forward between the seats.

“Yeah,” you say, glancing between them both. “Have you two done this a lot?” You can’t help but ask. Especially with how comfortable they are with each other, with you kissing both of them.

Tengen shrugs. “Kyo and I aren’t necessarily exclusive,” he says. “We both want more. There’s no shame in having more love to offer as long as everyone’s okay with it.”

“You are okay with it, aren’t you?” Kyojuro asks, sounding slightly hesitant.

“I am,” you assure. “I just…I’ve never slept with two people at once. You might have to show me the ropes.”

“And here I thought we’d save the ropes for the next date,” Tengen says dryly.

You laugh. “The next date?”

“Sure,” he says. “We’ll just have to show you we’re worth it.”

“We like you,” Kyojuro grins at you. “Why wouldn’t we want to continue?”

“Maybe I’m terrible in bed?” you offer teasingly.

Tengen glances at you. “We’re not.”

They prove it too.

Kyojuro’s apartment isn’t too large but it is instantly comforting with warm colours and tasteful decoration, even if it is a little sparse. Both men move through it with ease and Kyojuro offers you both a drink to help you get settled. The drink he hands you is unopened, and you sip at it before settling on the couch next to Tengen.

Kyojuro settles in next to you and for a moment you bask in this strange sense of comfort and warmth between these two men. The two of them are talking, letting you take your time. You get the feeling that they’re just waiting until you let them know you’re ready for more. It’s so wholesome, especially considering they basically promised to fuck you senseless. You want to see if they live up to it.

You lean forward, setting your drink down before you glance between them. Considering you’ve kissed Kyojuro the most so far, you turn towards Tengen.

He raises his eyebrows at you, smirking slightly as he waits.

“Can I sit on you?” you ask, offering the same politeness that they’ve given you. Consent needs to be verbally enthusiastic after all.

Tengen grins and nods, putting his drink down before he beckons you closer. His hands grip at your waist, helping lift you with ease. Your legs go to either side of his, allowing you to straddle him. You glance at Kyojuro who simply moves closer and watches. Tengen’s hand slips under your shirt, thumb stroking soft circles on the skin of the small of your back. “We’re not going to push you into anything, angel,” he says softly. “At least anything you don’t want.”

“And if I want everything?” you ask, fiddling gently with his shirt.

The hand not on your back tilts your face to look up at him. “Then ask.”

“I want you both,” you breathe, meeting his dark red eyes. “If you want me.”

“Of course we do,” Kyojuro says. “Since you bumped into me.”

“Since you shot me,” Tengen agrees. His hand slides to the back of your neck and he leans down to kiss you. If he kissed you with careful control in the restaurant, this was something else. It’s harder, more demanding and yet he seems to remember everything that made you hum against his lips. “Don’t hold back,” he whispers when he finally breaks the kiss, letting you breathe.

“If it’s too much, let us know,” Kyojuro says before he leans forward and takes Tengen’s place. Kyojuro kisses hard, full of passion and desperation. He kisses you like he never wants to stop. You can’t help but whine when he pulls back. You rock forwards, feeling Tengen growing harder under you.

“Now that’s a sight,” he says, eyes flickering between you two. “Beautiful.”

Your breath hitches as he turns to Kyojuro and you suddenly witness them kiss. Whatever sight Tengen thought he saw with you and Kyojuro, it couldn’t come close to the sight of them. They kissed like they’ve done it a hundred times before and still couldn’t get enough of each other. You grind your hips lightly, searching for more friction and reach for Kyojuro’s hand. He grips your hand back, just as tight.

Tengen’s hand presses harder against your back, helping to guide you in increasing your motions and he groans against Kyojuro’s mouth.

“Fuck,” you mutter.

Kyojuro laughs, pulling away to look at you. “Enjoying it?”

“You’re both just so pretty,” you admit.

Tengen laughs. “Come now, you’re wearing too much.” His gaze darts to Kyojuro. “Both of you are.”

It’s easy to give in. You grab the end of your shirt and drag it up over your head. You throw it to the side, completely unaware as both the men look at you. Their gazes are heated, Kyojuro’s tongue darting out to lick his lips. You think he does it unconsciously but your stomach flutters with pride and confidence at their expressions and you quickly take off your bra too.

Tengen’s hand is large and warm, the calluses on his fingers and palm scrape against your skin as he drags his hand up your side. You shiver at the feeling, only to be distracted as Kyojuro kisses you again.

It’s almost overwhelming. The strength of Tengen’s thighs under you, the feeling of his hands dancing a pattern you can’t focus on over your skin while Kyojuro sucks marks on your shoulder. Tengen kisses you again and you feel Kyojuro’s hand go from your thigh to his.

“We need more space,” Tengen mutters. “Hold on, princess.” He lifts you, ignoring the sound you make at the loss of him until he places you in Kyojuro’s lap. Kyojuro, for his part, grins widely at you, pulling you closer before kissing you again. You dig your hands into his hair, kissing him back just as hard.

“Bedroom,” Tengen says, offering a hand. Kyojuro hikes you closer before he stands, one arm under your ass. You wrap your legs around him but he doesn’t seem to struggle in the slightest in carrying you. Tengen leads you both down a hall. Or somewhere. You’re not entirely paying attention, too busy sucking your own mark into Kyojuro’s neck. His grip tightens against you.

Kyojuro releases you, letting you gently fall against the bed. Tengen moves in, drawing you towards him as he kneels on the bed. You move to follow, pausing only to undo your pants once you notice he’s naked. You motion for him to wait as you lie back to shimmy out of them. He hooks a finger on the edge, helping you. Kyojuro grabs the ends, pulling them towards him. He’s already naked as well, taking the chance when you were distracted by Tengen.

Your mouth goes dry as you take in their muscles. You knew they were strong but it’s different seeing them like this. “Wow.”

“I think we’re the ones who should be saying that,” Kyojuro says. “Don’t you agree, Tengen?”

“I’m lucky either way,” the other man admits. You turn back to him. He’s sitting back on his heels, watching you both. “Come here,” he beckons you closer like he did before. You move towards him, aware of the bed dipping behind you. Tengen pulls you into him, kissing you softly as his hands slide across your skin. They go up your thighs, following the dip of your hips and waist before cupping your breasts gently. “So pretty,” he murmurs.

Kyojuro moves behind you, kissing the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. You lean back against him, smiling at the warmth of the men that seeps into you. You move one of your hands over your shoulder, digging back into Kyojuro’s hair. He groans as you grip it, hands tightening at your waist. You drape your other one over Tengen’s shoulder, stroking the skin softly as his mouth lowers to encase one of your nipples.

You lose yourself in the sensations the men cause. One of Kyojuro’s hands slips between your legs, pressing in and stroking gently.

“So wet already,” he tells Tengen. He presses in further and you shift to give him more room. He finds your clit with surprising ease and you feel yourself arch into it. It helps push you closer to Tengen who is lavishing your chest with attention, gently biting and sucking hard to leave his mark.

You groan when Kyojuro removes his fingers, sucking them into his mouth. How are you supposed to survive this? Especially when he swipes them back between your legs before offering them to Tengen who takes them without hesitation. Kyojuro leans forward over you, kissing Tengen. The thought that they can both taste you on their lips is hotter than you ever realized it would be. Your hands move, mapping out the crevices and dips of their muscles, absent-mindedly wondering how you got this lucky. You don’t question it though, instead, once they stop kissing, you motion for them to give you some space.

They both instantly apologize if they squished you.

“What a way to go,” you muse, smiling as they laugh. Tengen reaches over to pinch you and you jolt back, sticking out your tongue.

“I want to taste you,” you say. You move closer, bending down slightly. You reach for Kyojuro, fingers wrapping around his cock and watching as his eyes flutter closed at the feeling. You lick at Tengen’s, using your other hand to hold him. It takes a bit to find a rhythm and neither man seems to mind as you go back and forth, taking your time to try to take in as much of each of them as you can.

Tengen’s hand rests on the back of your neck, oddly comforting as you suck him. Kyojuro’s hand joins yours, stroking what bits you can’t reach. Tengen groans, praising you both for making him feel so good. “You take us so well, angel,” he tells you.

Kyojuro is louder in his moans when you use your mouth, holding himself steady on Tengen as you lick and suck. These two powerful men crumble under your mouth. You’ve never felt so powerful, or so desirable with the way they look at you.

“Please, sweet thing,” Kyojuro begs, “let me take care of you too.”

He begs so prettily, and you think Tengen agrees with how he watches you both. You nod and Kyojuro motions for you to turn your attention back to the other man. You feel him move behind you as you go back to trying to take as much of Tengen’s cock in your mouth as you can. Kyojuro’s hands settle on your hips before he presses a warm palm to the small of your back, guiding you to rest on your hands as well as your knees. You lean back towards him automatically.

You hum against Tengen as you feel Kyojuro’s fingers first. They press in, slowly stretching you as he adds one then two.

“Fuck,” you hear Tengen.

“She’s so tight,” Kyojuro says. “I don’t want to hurt her.”

“You won’t,” Tengen replies.

Kyojuro presses another finger in and you falter in your efforts, mouth releasing Tengen so you can gasp at the intrusion. It feels so good and yet not enough.

“Please, please, please,” you beg. “More.”

“Well,” Tengen says. “You heard her.”

You don’t look up at the sounds of someone’s fingers being sucked clean, already knowing what you’d find and take the chance to catch your breath. It doesn’t last long, not when you can feel Kyojuro finally press against you. It takes a second for him to angle himself properly before he’s pushing in and all you can do is moan at the feeling.

Fingers tilt your head up and you look to see Tengen smiling down at you. “Alright?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you agree.

He bends down to kiss you and you can taste yourself on his lips. Kyojuro takes the chance to withdraw just enough before thrusting back.

“Come on, princess,” Tengen says softly. “Think you can finish me off?”

You don’t bother replying, instead taking his cock back in your mouth. You’ve never been this full. Not like this. The men easily find a rhythm, and you let yourself move with it. The room fills with the sounds and smells of sex, soft moans and groans as you all get closer. Tengen hits his release first, withdrawing and cumming across your back. That’s going to be hell to clean but the thought is lost when you feel Kyojuro’s pace quicken. Your arms collapse under you and you try to hold yourself up on your elbows. You think someone swipes at the display he left, someone else moaning with their mouth full. Then Tengen shifts, lying next to you and propping himself up on an elbow. He seems enraptured by the sight of you and Kyojuro.

You are so close to the edge, to your release when Kyojuro stops. You nearly whine in frustration but it doesn’t last long. You’re flipped onto your back, resting next to Tengen still while Kyojuro slips back between your legs.

Tengen kisses you as Kyojuro lifts your legs, resting them on his forearms before he thrusts forward again. Tengen’s hand slides down your chest, pausing to squeeze one of your breasts again before his fingers find their way between you and Kyojuro. He presses against your clit, moving in tandem with the man fucking you and you break.

Tengen breaks the kiss, letting you cry out with your release as his mouth moves lower, They don’t stop though. Your orgasm extends with their movements and before you can even fully catch your breath, you tumble head-first into another.

Someone swears.

Kyojuro pulls out just in time to cum across your stomach and all three of you seem to pause, regaining your senses. Kyojuro collapses on the best next to you and for a moment, all you can do is laugh.

Both men have enough energy to look at each other over you and you wave them off before they can question it.

“Sorry,” you say. “That was just…the most intense thing I’ve ever experienced.”

“Told you it’d be flashy,” Tengen says, sounding as confident as ever. Not that it was a surprise. The man deserved it and could clearly back it up. You were going to be sore tomorrow.

“You were right,” you agree.

“Let’s clean you up,” he says. “I’ll run a bath.”

“A bath?” All you wanted to do was clean up and sleep.

“It’s big enough,” Kyojuro says. He sounds about as awake as you feel. “It’ll help so you won’t be sore later when we go again.”

“Again?” You glance between these men, wondering where they get the stamina. Tengen just laughs.

“Of course. You didn’t think we were done, did you?”

everything taglist: @raith-way @chrissymunson @veetlegeuse @chickensarentcheap @residentdormouse

#smut oneshot #this was finished due to spite lbh #demon slayer #uzui tengen x reader #rengoku kyojuro x reader #tengen x reader #kyojuro x reader #tengen x kyojuro #demon slayer oneshot #kyojuro x you x tengen #rengoku kyojuro x you #tengen x you

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the-lark-ascending69 · 11 months ago

Note

You mentioned that you love fics where Robin gets Vecna’d (relatable as fuck lol) and holy hell she would have been #1 on Vecna’s list if she hadn’t found Steve’s love and friendship and support in season 3. This of course made me think of an au where Robin does get Vecna’d in season 4 because somehow she and Steve never become friends, and she’s still stuck in that self-loathing, lonely place. Maybe she somehow doesn’t get involved with the Upside Down in season 3, which would be hard to make work with how essential to the plot she was.

Of course there is the terrible, horrible, heartbreaking option of Robin getting involved and everything going the same, except in this terrible horrible universe, Steve dies. Maybe they’re both under Starcourt in the Russian base, and Steve’s beat to hell and tied to Robin’s back and she feels his breathing get slower and slower until it’s just gone. Dustin and Erica save her, but it’s awful because Robin can’t save the closest person she’s had to a friend in so long after all he did to protect her and they’re forced to leave his body there, cold and alone in enemy territory. Or it happens after they get out, after Robin tells him her deepest secret and he still loves her, differently than he did before, but just as much. Robin would be so happy to finally have someone who knows her fully and loves her for it, only to have it ripped away when the Flesh Flayer makes one wrong swipe that catches Steve in just the wrong way, or even after the battle, when they all think they’re safe and it’s finally over until Steve collapses from an internal injury that nobody had caught.

I really can’t decide which possibility would be worse, Robin mourning the boy who somehow became her best friend before he ever truly knew her, thinking that if Steve had known her fully, he would’ve hated her anyways (Robin’s wrong about this of course) or Robin’s devastation over the first person to love and accept her for who she is being ripped away from her so violently and so soon.

Either way she would be a perfect target for Vecna 8 months later, when she’s dealing with not just the same loneliness and self-loathing from before, but also the guilt of not being able to protect her best friend and the feeling that it should’ve been her why couldn’t it have been her instead and of course the trauma of the entire almost-week of fighting Russians and monsters.

Anyways sorry for rambling and dumping this all in your ask box lol 😅

No no don't apologize for the rambling you're so real thank you for dumping this all in my ask box 😭😭 waking up to this is the perfect way to start my day

I LOVE both options, but the first one is especially heart-wrenching because we know Vecna specifically preys on guilt and self-loathing, and maybe I've been a little too obsessed with the Rebel Robin Podcast but hearing little 15yo Robin say the universe is telling her she's not supposed to have friends, that she always needs to "camouflage" to survive, that there's something wrong with her, that she's rotten inside (it sheds a whole new light on "i feel like my life has been one big error") has me thinking about Robin being a bit confused, a bit worried but also a bit excited hearing Steve say he should have been hanging out with her a long time ago, even though he probably means it in a way she doesn't fully like, but also maybe not, and maybe after all of this they could be friends! And maybe she won't be alone anymore. Maybe one day she could even tell him her secret.

But then he's beaten so badly. He receives some really bad blows in the head, and she can tell he's taunting the guards whenever they speak to her, drawing their attention back to him, telling them she doesn't know anything, letting them hurt him so they won't hurt her and maybe they believe him, so when Robin tries to talk and starts rambling and saying a bunch of nonsense, because she's too nervous and scared to say anything coherent, they gag her and now she can do nothing but scream and cry into the gag as they continue to beat him while he's tied up behind her, feeling the impact on her chair and on her back.

He's still concious when they leave. He's speaking to her, saying he wishes he'd known her earlier and all Robin can think is no, no, no you don't. And she tries to speak but it only makes her feel like she's choking on the gag, and then his speech starts slurring, and she freaks out because she read about this. He's having a brain bleed. Next, he'll be paralized in one side of his body, next he's having seizures that shake both chairs and has Robin sobbing as she tries to cry out his name. By the time it stops, he won't respond to her, and his breathing slowly comes to a stop, body sagging in its bindings.

Robin stays tied to his corpse for hours and hours, feeling the warmth leave his body, the horrible smell, not daring to turn around to see him. She almost had a friend and he died to protect her. He died because of her. She killed him. If only she'd said something smarter - if only she hadn't freaked out - if maybe she'd thought or something to make the soldiers leave them alone, if she could tell a good lie, if she could defend him the way he defended her, he'd still be alive.

The soldiers come back to rip the gag out of her mouth, now wet and disgusting, and as she sobs and tries to tell them Steve needs help, they inject her with drugs and leave her alone for them to take effect. And now she's laughing hysterically and talking to Steve as if he were still there. She's sobbing, heaving, giggling all at the same time. She feels like she's losing her sanity. She tells them everything when the guards come back, and keeps laughing when Dustin and Erica save her. She laughs when she tells them Steve is dead. This is probably the most traumatic moment in the kids' life, but Dustin manages to keep a level head and not break down until they're safe, and he decides to leave Steve's body there so they can save Robin (if Robin had died instead they could have saved Steve). She's almost catatonic by the time they leave her in the movie theater, giggling under her breath whenever she remembers Steve. Then she goes to the bathroom to thrown up, and with the drugs mostly out of her system, she completely breaks down. This is all her fault. She really, really just... ruins everything.

She's half there, half gone until the end of the battle of starcourt, uselessly following Dustin around. She barely responds to the paramedics when they talk to her (when they perform drug tests on her in the hospital, they think she's a junkie), but Dustin stays by her side as much as he can, both comforting her and seeking comfort.

They take everyone to the hospital in different ambulances, so Dustin leaves at one point. She's one of the last ones to leave, because the police wants to question her on Steve's death. The official story was that he died from asphyxia during the fire, and she was the last one who saw him alive. It's the best lie she can come up with, and she feels so gross telling it.

When she's about to be taken to the hospital, to her surprise, Nancy Wheeler comes to check on her, with black tears running down her face, but with a strong posture and a clear voice when she tells Robin she heard she was the last one to see Steve. She thanks her. She thanks her, even though Robin was the one to kill him. She wants to know if she's hurt and if she needs anything, and tells her she's there if she needs anything.

Then at the hospital, after her parents come to see her, freaking out and holding her so tight she can barely breathe, Steve's parents visit. They're barely holding back tears when they thank her for not letting their son die alone, and tell her they'll be there for anything she needs, and Robin has never hated herself as much as she did then. She hates that Dustin and his friends come see her. She hates that Dustin's fucking mom thanks her. Everything is fucking thanking her as if she did something good or brave when all she did was let the one person who could have maybe loved her die. She hates that during the course of the next 8 months, Dustin takes her with him on dinners with the Harringtons as if she were Steve's fucking girlfriend. She hates that he shows up to her house after seeing her looking sad at school to ask how she's doing. She hates that Nancy Wheeler does the same, and hates it when her parents invite her for dinner because she's "another one of Steve's friends". She hates that even 11 year old Erica comes check on her during school lunch if she hears she had another panic attack. She hates it all. She hates herself. She hates that they don't hate her. She hates the nightmares and the flashbasks and the fact she can't talk to anyone about what truly happened. She could talk to Nancy, she guesses, but then Nancy will look at her with sympathy instead of disgust and Robin doesn't think she could take that.

She takes up a job at Family Video. She sees these people who suddenly care for her for all the wrong reasons a few times a week, when they come rent their nerdy movies. She has no one but Keith to talk to, and he isn't great company. At one point Dustin and Max show up asking her to lend them phones and help them find some dude with dubious links to some Eddie boy and then she gets inevitably dragged along into their new quest, fully aware that it should be Steve instead of her.

She doesn't tell them when she sees a clock in the woods, and Steve Harrington stands in front of her, half of his body paralized, nose bleeding, asking why she left him there. Telling her she'd been right all along: there was something rotten inside of her.

#whump #major character death #vecna'd robin buckley #platonic stobin #ronance #< intended audience #maybe im biased but i imagine Nancy being the one to save Robin from this one #she protecc #robin is my little baby i need to traumatize her #she definitely develops ptsd after all of that #the true horror is the struggle to forgive oneself #for so many things. for surviving when steve didn't. for not finding a way to save him. for leaving his body behind. for receiving sympathy #for falling in love with the girl who's made it her mission to look out for her #😭😭😭😭#angst #my posts

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