#this will be a full oneshot eventually IT'S TOO GOOD OF A PROMPT | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

booppooo · 1 year

Note

heey can i ask for a oneshot abby×female reader (she/her pronouns), #1 from your prompt list with some fluff too 😊😊 (suggestion: the reader and abby are making out softly and it turns into something more and Abby decides to eat her out on the dinner table)

Breakfast, Lunch, and Dinner

Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader One-Shot

AN: dear god I'm so sorry this took so long to write, also gonna try to keep this short cuz I have a tendency to drag shit out

Warnings: oral, general gay stuff, drinking, I think my writing style has changed? sorry?

It started off innocently.

You were lounging on the love seat, watching some weird Japanese cartoon Manny had raved about and drinking a beer. Make that three.

"It's hard keeping up with the captions." You complained, finishing your drink.

"You're telling me." Abby kicked her feet up on the coffee table and sunk further into the couch, not paying mind to the TV. When her arm fell across the back of the couch you took to her side and cuddled against her.

The dull edges of her nails ran along your spine in a comforting rhythm, serenading your deeper into her warm torso. Eventually your felt her fingertips on your skin, not just the pressure through your shirt. The mild buzz of the booze was making your lids especially heavy. However, Abby seemed to have something else in mind when her gruff palms started massaging your hip beneath your sweats. Albeit the sensation and release was soothing, but you knew what her next few steps would be.

"Babe..." she softly grumbled, planting a kiss on the crown of your head, "I'm bored." You hummed lazily in response, purposefully ignoring her digits slyly slipping under the band of your bottoms. But she made sure you couldn't ignore her anymore when she got a hand full of your ass.

"Abby-!" You grumbled against her, "Not tonight, I'm tired."

She started massaging your waist again, "We don't have to do anything crazy, let me do all the work." Somewhere along the lines her other hand had gotten mixed up under your shirt.

You let the thought simmer and juggle around in your mind. On one hand you truly were getting sleepy, but on the other hand...

Abby's tongue.

Speaking of - she had repositioned so she could kiss and lick along your neck, further convincing you to fall in line with her plan. It was proving increasingly difficult to call it a night when she started humming and nipping at your skin. You'd be a liar if you said there wasn't a growing, warm tingle below the belt. So you leaned into her affection, pressing your hips against her meaty thigh as your implicit way of giving her the green light.

She took you in her arms, adjusting your figure so she had easier access to the parts of you she wanted to grace. Her quickly dampening lips made a journey from behind your ear and down your neck, taking full advantage of your low-collared tank. Clearly her drinks had opened a few filters since she didn't bother groaning or even moaning against you as she groped your skin and worked you up - something she was usually hyper aware of.

Pulling away for just a second, she let slip a few words, "Love you babe, gonna make it worth it." In turn your cheeks started to burn an bashful pink. You further leaned into her, readying to give into whatever she had in store for you.

When you sprung up from the couch, and your feet didn't hit the ground, you yelped - especially at the small batch of butterflies lining your stomach. That was until you noticed Abby's arms flexing beneath you and effortlessly carrying you somewhere.

"Where are we going?" You giggled, suddenly going breathless when Abby started working a purple patch beneath your jaw.

Then your backside met a stiff surface, your fingertips quickly identifying it as your small dinner table, "Abby-"

"You look just about good enough to eat."

You knew she felt proud of that one. It was pretty damn clever.

"You're so dumb," you rolled your eyes, counterintuitively wrapping your legs around her waist.

She smiled against your collar bone as her hands slithered your shirt off, "You're dumb. Take this off and lay back."

Now Abby's lips were getting acquainted with your torso, plotting delicate, slippery kisses under your bra and around your belly button. Meanwhile, she had hooked her fingers around the waist of your sweats and started shimming them off your hips, underwear caught up in the mix. The anticipation for you was building, because Abby knew you, and she knew her tongue, so it was a recipe for pleasure. You weren't shameful about your shifty pelvis, sometimes lifting to graze against her as you sighed.

"Relax baby, I'll handle it. I always do." Abby cooed, thumb swiping over the mild hump of your hip bone.

She started at your inner thigh, not afraid to involve her tongue with her loving kisses along your skin. She knew what she was doing - building you up until you almost whined about not getting enough, then she'd swoop in and give you just what you wanted, needed. Her other palm found the underside of your thigh and gave it a home over her broad shoulder, the other soon following. Then her arms hooked around your limbs from below, almost locking your legs flush with her build as to assure no escape. Finally, her eyes locked with what her tongue had been buzzing about since her fingers grazed the fabric of your shirt. There was a familiar shimmer and a heat emanating onto her expression, the scent of sex following and mixing with her hormones in some way she couldn't explain. One thing was sure, she needed to dive in.

First with her tongue of course. Slowly, meticulously taking her time to part your slit until her taste buds found the source of what had made your cunt so glittery. And when she did, the sugary warmth excited her drive, forcing her tongue to travel to your clit. It's arrival was much anticipated because when the slick of her hot tongue made its first swipe against your near throbbing bud, a throaty sigh released from your tight chest. It managed to subside and elicit an ache only she could build and put to rest. Fortunate for you both, she knew just how to do that.

Anytime your hips would jolt or jut her unreal strength would keep you in place so her tongue could swirl just the way it needed to - uninterrupted by your overly excited nervous system. You could feel the accumulation of your slick being smeared grossly all over your cunt via her slippery tongue, only adding to the mess. But this didn't bother you, because Abby was tidy. She was clean and tedious, so this mess in the name of your orgasm was simply part of the process. It was something she enjoyed the most about having your lips against hers...your other lips.

"Goddamn..." a long sigh followed your curse. Your fingers had infiltrated her loose braid and nails were digging into her scalp.

Abby knew she was good. Good enough for you to take hold of her strands and wriggle your hips impossibly closer to her mouth; if she couldn't get closer, she'd get faster. Her sloppy tongue would just get sloppier, quicker, nearly careless. She needed to cover as much area as efficiently as possible because from the way your thighs were tightening and your nails scratched she knew you were close. Excitement sparked in Abby's chest, and she grabbed your hips as if she were cupping your cheeks to more deeply immerse herself.

"Fuck, yeah - just like that." You grumbled, but despite the delivery of your message, you couldn't be anymore enthusiastic.

Your waist grew jumpy, only it didn't make it very far from the table because Abby made sure to keep it in place. Her strength once again was a merit, because she had such a disgustingly hot battle between your soon to be overstimulated clit and her fucking ferocious tongue. Any move in the wrong direction on account of your eagerness could ruin this for both of you. Luckily, your orgasm was a certain reality when the spot in the middle of your pelvis grew fiery, so much so your body took refuge against the table. The sensation was wonderfully identifiable as it spread warmth rapidly across your muscles and nervous system, clearing your brain of all thoughts and forcing provocative moans from your throat.

Between all of this, Abby worked hard to make sure it was indeed worth it. She continued to maneuver her tongue just the way you said to, keeping you steady as the rest of your body tensed and relaxed at once. Eventually she let up on your hips and let your soaked center grind senselessly against her face until your figure grew limp and satisfied, at which time Abby dedicated to gently cleaning up the sticky mess she had worked so hard for.

She was careful to not return to your clit full throttle, only kitten licking when needed and mischievously enjoying the whining from you when she did. Besides that, her work was careful and purposeful until you were free to let her slip your underwear and comfy pants onto your very much tired self.

#abby anderson #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson fan fiction #abby x reader #abby the last of us

376 notes · View notes

romirola · 2 years

Text

Turns out I had one more Redactedverse oneshot left in me before I get started on drafting a new fic! @ejunkiet, I saw from your tags you've been struggling with migraines lately! I'm so sorry to hear that, friend. I wrote you this little piece featuring Angel comforting shifted!David as he endures a migraine in hopes of making you feel better. (This will eventually live in my AO3 oneshot collection.)

Rating: T, WC: ~1.3K, Characters: David/Angel, Prompt: Self-prompted to make EJ feel better

Thanks for reading! Any and all feedback is welcome and cherished!

Angel gingerly placed the glass of flat 7up beside the bed. They frowned, letting their eyes linger on the large, wolf-shaped lump underneath the soft sheet.

“Davey?” Angel whispered. “Can I do anything for you?”

Poking his head out from the sheet, David Shaw squinted, torn by his desire to shut out any scrap of light from his vision and to take in the comforting sight of his mate. “Hmm.” For a moment, he had almost forgotten he was in his wolf form and wanted to shape the sound into a word. Instead, when the strong muscles of his mouth wouldn’t oblige him, David settled for a huff. He pulled his ears back as his lips curled upwards. His heightened senses, normally such a point of pride for David, betrayed him as he processed even the muted stimuli around him. Despite that drawback, he typically opted to ride out a migraine in his wolf form. Somehow, some way, retreating into his wolf offered David a little bit of comfort. In his wolf form, despite the pounding headache, horrific nausea, exhaustion, and oversensitivity to everything, David felt like he could handle all of the inescapable awfulness that his occasional migraine attacks caused him.

“Err,” David tried again in a deep and low rumble of a voice so as not to irritate the throbbing in his skull. When his eyes opened a little bit wider, David was relieved to find that Angel had cloaked the room in darkness.

The misery in David’s sharp eyes was evident to Angel. His pupils, usually prominent and full of life, were dull and tiny. “Aww, Davey.” They sat down on the edge of the bed and reached their hand out, letting it linger in the air for a moment, like they knew even the slightest unwanted touch would be tortuous for David. “May I?”

A soft, grateful whine of consent escaped his lips. He blinked slowly.

When Angel’s hand finally met his forehead and gently rubbed, David’s tail thwacked once to tell Angel how good it felt and once more in an unnecessary plea for them to continue the small gesture.

Angel did.

As David felt himself get lost in Angel’s touch, he thought about all the times in his life a similar scene had played out without Angel.

He thought of the times when he was a teenager when a migraine would hit. The first time David got a migraine, he was fourteen and in the middle of his school day. He didn’t understand what was happening or how to cope when his body went completely haywire. But when he finally forced himself to ask a teacher to let him go call his dad from the school's main office, Gabe picked David up from school and quickly escorted him to his room as soon as they arrived home. Gabe expertly soothed away David's pain with soft, hushed words. He even held David upright as the poor kid emptied the contents of his stomach into the plastic trash bin near the edge of David's bed. Through it all, Gabe stayed with David. He remembered falling asleep to his father's steady droning speech about something and, even though David wasn't cognizant enough to know for sure, he could've sworn that the pillow underneath his head somehow transformed into Gabe's chest.

It was the first, but not the only, time Gabe took care of David when a migraine came over him. Even as a young adult when he had the opportunity to shift into his wolf form, David found it impossible not to cling close to his father during a migraine.

“You’re holding in too much stress, David,” his father would say with a genuine sympathy that made David feel like a cub again. “It’s going to show up, one way or another, sooner or later. You gotta learn to relax before things get to this point.”

David's throat tightened when he felt a familiar wave of grief hit him. His front paws twitched a few times as he extended and retracted his claws to stretch his sore limbs.

“Just try to relax now,” Angel cooed. When their other hand began to stroke the tufts of longer hair at his chest, David willed himself to do as his mate asked, even though it was nearly impossible for him to sink into the bed so he could give into the overwhelming exhaustion. Everything hurt too much for that.

David let his thoughts wander to a time when a particularly bad migraine struck him a few years ago. It had been shortly after he secured an office space for the growing company. The legal and financial requirements alone were stressful enough, but David had undertaken that project of expanding the company so quickly after his father had died, throwing himself into a tangible activity that proved David was capable of carrying on his father’s legacy as a good alpha. It should’ve been impossible for him to do, but somehow, he did it. It was only after he got everything successfully settled that the migraine hit him one night. David’s body had always worked like that. It never failed that no matter how he was able to push through any type of work that needed to be done, as soon as that work was finished, his body would succumb to the buildup of stress and collapse. David was thankful that at the time, Asher had been spending more time with, as he called them, “the Elevator Babe,” so David did not have to worry about Asher seeing him like that. Truly, the only thing that made David more uncomfortable than a migraine was having other people see him as he endured the migraine.

People other than his father, that is.

The absence of his father was something that hit David at the most inopportune times, that one included. When David came to the realization that his father wasn’t there to help him through the migraine, would never be there to help David again, it was like a competition of hurt was taking place inside David’s body and it was anyone’s guess who would win: his head or his heart.

The only score David really remembered was that he was thoroughly miserable. He fumbled through the pain as best he could, trying to wait in a grief-stricken agony until the migraine passed, unable to stop his tears from leaking out of his eyes and his thoughts from spiraling into despair.

What if my head never stops hurting? What if the pack needs me and can’t help because I’m too busy puking? How can I make it stop? What would Dad say if he saw me like this? Why did he have to die?

“Hang in there, Davey,” Angel told him, the rhythm of their scratches and strokes offering David a chance to focus on something else other than the churning in his stomach and head. Whenever they spoke, it was like everything quieted for David. “Soon, it’ll go away. Until then, you take all the time you need to feel better.”

David let himself be surrounded by the comforting warmth of Angel’s touch as they deftly fixed a wrinkle in the blanket that sat unnaturally heavy on his back before they weaved their fingers back into his dark fur. Out of instinct, David let his head bow and nosed his face into Angel’s hand at this chest. He carefully took their hand in his mouth, just letting his teeth graze their skin without any pressure. A gesture that he hoped encapsulated the complete devotion he felt for Angel.

Angel didn’t flinch. “I love you, too.”

David let go of their hand, though not without giving them a few licks, and settled back onto the bed. He settled back onto the pillow and drowsily let his eyes close, content to let his mate chase away his migraine by sending him to sleep with their unempowered, magical touch.

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted fanfiction #redacted david #redacted davey #david shaw #redacted angel

264 notes · View notes

kittykatkatelol2 · 10 months

Text

"Scavenger Hunt" Jegulus Oneshot

Prompt by @jegulus-microfic (prompt: ring)

Regulus walked downstairs, the note in hand, barely even awake.

He had just woken up, found a note on his bedside table, and no James in bed with him. All the note said was:

'Good morning, love, and happy four year anniversary. I have a lot planned for us both, but first, a scavenger hunt! Your first clue is this: You will find your next clue in the place where your wonderful cooking is made. Right inside place where me and my friends raid. -JFP'

It was seven in the morning, and instead of getting to kiss and sleep in with his boyfriend, he was stuck going to god knows where to find clues.

Regulus walked into the kitchen, and opened the pantry door, hoping that this wouldn't take long, he just wanted to wish James a happy anniversary, and go back to sleep with him. And possibly go to dinner later.

There was a small bunch of balloons of all different colours and a note tied to the end of one of the green balloons.

Regulus sighed, but grabbed the note; he probably still wouldn't be the most thrilled to be on a scavenger hunt even if he had slept well and gotten a full nights rest, but he definitely wasn't feeling it when he had barely slept last night, probably from the lack of James in bed with him.

. . .

Twelve notes later, twelve different locations, and five hours later, Regulus finally stood at the (hopefully) final location.

A fancy French restaurant that Regulus and James had only been to once before and that was the date they went on for James's birthday.

Regulus walked into the restaurant, wearing his nice suit (as asked by the last note / clue) and was able to find the table they were assigned fairly quickly after talking with the waiter.

"Hey, darling, happy anniversary," James says with a bright smile as Regulus approaches the table.

"Happy anniversary," Regulus replies, smiling back at his wonderful boyfriend.

He had to admit, the whole ordeal was very sweet, just not really his thing, but still very sweet and thoughtful of James to put together.

"Have a seat," James offered the spot across from him for Regulus to sit.

Regulus sat down.

"So, did you like all your surprises?" James asked, still smiling.

"Yeah, I did, thank you so much, Jamie."

James's smile got even brighter at that.

"I have one last gift for you, Reggie," James says, but Regulus stops him before he is able to continue.

"Me first, Jamie. Close your eyes."

James looks at Regulus curiously, but closes his eyes like he is told.

A few moments later Regulus says, "You can open them now."

James opens his eyes to see Regulus on one knee, a ring box in hand.

"James Fleamont Potter, my sun, my love. I know it was you who fell first, but god did I fall hard. I have loved you since before our first date; you taught me how to love, how to live, not just survive, and I will forever be grateful for that. I would ask for nothing more than to be yours for a life time and many others. Jamie, will you do me the great honor of being my husband?"

By the time Regulus was done, James was weeping and nodding yes.

"You dick I was going to do that! Of course I'll marry you!" James says, his voice cracking from tears as he pulls out his own ring box.

Regulus smiles the biggest smile James had ever seen Regulus smile and pulls him into a kiss.

"Oh my god I love you. This could not have been a better day, Reggie, thank you."

"I love you too, James. I can't believe you were going to do it too. Thank you for an amazing day, and for saying yes."

They both eventually got off each other and put their rings on; both still practically crying the happiest of tears.

This was hands down the best day of both of their lives.

[Word count: 647]

#jegulus #jegulus microfic #james x regulus #regulus x james #james loves regulus #regulus loves james #regulus black #james potter

32 notes · View notes

thesoulesscollection · 5 months

Text

Ellie & Henry; An Unbreakable Bond

Hello. I don't have much in the way of request but I do have two ideas all involving Ellie so likely separate oneshots

#1: An alt ending to an existing scenario or your own scenario where Ellie dies and Henry witnesses it (Think of it as Ellie's version of the "Valiant Hero" ending) the circumstances are up to you it could be Henry and Ellie on their own, them being members of the tophat clan (or Henry as the leader) or them being the good guys with Charles possibly in the story I'm fine with either route

#2: Henry after escaping the wall stops and with hesitation turns around and heads back for Ellie feeling a twinge of guilt for using her and leaving her behind

This one was a lot of fun for me to write even if it took me a while. Down below are the tags for each prompt;

1) Tw/Tags: Toppat Recruits, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Little To No Comfort (Depends On How You See It), Major Character Death, Blood, Emotional Distress, Mild Mentions Of Depression, & (RoseMin) Relationship Can Be Seen As Platonic Or Romantic

2) Tw/Tags: Developing Friendship, Light Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Betrayal, Inner Turmoil, Complicated Relationships & Hopeful Ending

This isn't supposed to happen. It was never part of the game. Nobody is meant to die in this timeline. Not anyone that he particularly cared for but not her.

Not Ellie. His best friend and companion in crime.

She was meant to be here with him. After all they went through together she shouldn't be ripped from his grasp.

Until now she was. Forever gone and he isn't able to change it. He didn't know what to do, even witnessing her totally preventable, and irreversible demise took its toll on him. It was his fault. He could've done something to stop it from happening though it was yanked out of his hands.

Said hands are shaking as he kneels down to her still warm corpse. The death rattle having been seared into his brain. They fist up then relax, clutching tightly like a vice on Ellie's bloodstained shirt.

It wasn't until much later, realized the severity of what had been done, that he's screaming his lungs out, crying, and in such a frenzied state nobody can get him out of it for hours on end.

Afterwards, when someone else in the clan, he couldn't tell who it was, had managed to tear him away from her, he was somewhat able to cool down. He's put in a safe place, alone per his weepy wish to cope.

She was dead because of him.

She choked on her own blood, withering in awful pain because of his mistakes.

Her gorgeous eyes once full of love and pride stared at him with a glassy unfocused haze, fresh with her own tears as life slowly slips from her.

It was torture knowing he was alone again as he's left to wallow in his misery. Often he laid in the same bed she would lovingly and so carefully drag him out of when he himself was too depressed to get up.

But nobody was there to do that. No one who does it like her. They tried, surely in their own unique way however it wasn't the same. Him and Ellie had a specific deep bond.

So it was difficult accepting her death, a slow progression, and it was a hard pill to swallow, that's for sure.

In the unfortunate circumstances, he noted in a rotten grimace, that there's nothing he can do besides sucking it up. At the start, a few days after Ellie's death, he didn't try, instead played ignorance. His words exact, rarely he does speak, will only consist of the topic that she will come back to him in some shape or way.

Eventually, people grew tired and left him to his devices, he understood why. Still they did try their best to be a shoulder to lean on if he allowed them. For some, he did do that when he couldn't fight anymore. Oftentimes he was eerily silent, still crying but it eluded him once he realized that no longer did anything come out.

And so he stands on the special balcony for the orbital station that's shielded nicely with a thick, sturdy glass. The void of space colored in blacks, blues, purples and his favorite, red was refreshing as it is a daunting beauty. His sore eyes were dry when he wiped his sleeve across them, sniffling and wincing a bit at the slight pain. He grips his shaking hands on the banister, breathing deeply through his nose as he watches the larger than life twinkling stars hover above him.

He is going to get better for his sake. Ellie's even since he knows she wouldn't stand for this.

***

Regret seeps in like poison. Henry was used to being alone, always on his own. So when climbing through the vents and popping out, he hesitates to move forward. It wouldn't be the first time he betrayed someone or had the same happened to him.

Though this was different. Somehow unlike the times he did this, Henry felt bad. Guilty.

In a world, cruel and unfit towards people like him and coincidently her as well should know better better to blindly trust. That's why he did what he'd done without having looked back to see her reaction as his experiences with the same hardened him.

She was down on her luck. Just like him but she entirely gave up. He still had his fight in him. That's why he's here to begin with, right behind two guards chattering away unaware of his presence, while deciding what to do next. About to make a break for it.

Maybe he should head back just for the heck of it. What would go wrong?

So he did, begrudgingly, mind you, he wasn't used to this.

Once he returns to the hole in the ceiling, he cautiously peeks over, taking in the scene of the redheaded woman now curled up in the furthest corner. In the room already so empty and cold, near the door, is the warden’s right hand looking straight ahead, again unaware.

Softly he makes a noise in order to get her attention which she wasn't bothering to try, even ignoring to seemingly in his growing annoyance. The redhead must know he's here for her.

He's just trying to help her! In some way he was trying to apologize and that's rare for someone like him anyways.

As the thief resists the urge to hiss louder or even cut his losses and turn back, he hooks his feet on the hanging staircase. Why it was there is beyond him. Then he curses it upon losing his footing, falling to a crumpled heap in front of the shocked woman.

Before long he stumbled on his feet, she was gobsmacked to see him as he grabbed onto her arm. Unsurprisingly, the warden’s deputy noticed, stormed into the waiting cell, seeing that Henry was without his cuffs. It won't be long when the true shit goes down so he'd have to rush for it.

Hope for the best outcome as this wasn't his plan.

With her in tow, forcibly behind him, he made a beeline to the door. He may be a scrawny guy at least compared to the other man but he isn't a literal pushover. Thankfully, as by pure luck it remains at his side too once he barrels past, knocking the other down with ease. Another surprise to him is that she's running alongside with little resistance.

The blaring noise of sirens rings in his ears seconds later. He kept going, huffing from the exertion and the mild irritation that throbs in his head. Soon he takes a sharp turn down the hallway, a path chosen in his mind.

It won't be his smartest, cleverest ones out there, just one that would work for right now at this moment. At the hall's end, close to an office, he slams a fist into a circuit board on the wall, all in the dwindling hopes it's the right choice.

The door slams shut so it was to his relief.

He lets go, turns to face her, when he does is instantly met with an angry scowl, and a cold glare. Worse, he is caged in and she can do anything to him. She doesn't, instead stands there, hunched, in stiff silence, except for her ragged breaths filling the air. The cuffs that completely covered her hands so that may be the sole reason why.

In his hesitancy, Henry steps forward, hands up in faux surrender, with no words that he's no threat to her. Eyeing her cuffs then at the room they're in, he notices one, the decently sized trophy likely carrying a heavy weight and secondly, the vent in the ceiling.

Moments later, trophy in hand, he bashes the cuffs until they drop on the ground broken. In a groan, he steps back, leaning on the table and motions to the ceiling. She runs her free hands together, as if attempting to gather the warmth.

Of course, she's highly skeptical. Right until he's on his knees ready to boost her up. He doesn't mind being the one to do the lifting this time. She looks around and he knows she's searching for another exit. Then she moves quite quickly, placing her foot on his knee.

In a flash, the hinges of the vent break apart and she climbs up.

Henry stands up, dusting off and he hears the sound of people outside the door get louder.

When he does look up at the ceiling, almost surprised to see she remains there, allegedly waiting, maybe uncertain about the choices laid out for her. It won't shock him whether she takes the grand opportunity to simply leave him behind.

Until she stretches a hand out for him.

18 notes · View notes

immajustvibehere · 2 years

Note

❛ i never quite realised how lovely you could be. ❜ please? Female reader if possible

The Caretaker

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader

oneshot, seperated in three parts, but you find all of them under the cut

summary: You join the gang shortly before the Blackwater masacre and quickly find comfort in the gang's enforcerer, Arthur Morgan. Even you seem to catch his eye, as he starts to flatter you with little gifts. When he flees from the O'Driscolls, you have the honor of taking care of him.

masterlist here!

When I finished the story I realised that part 1 & 2 are actually useless backstory. If you want to read a 10 minutes fluff (& mild hurt & comfort) just scroll down to Part 3! (This also includes the requested prompt) :D

5000 words, 30 minutes reading time

or 1800 words, 10 minutes reading time (if you skip to Part 3)

Part 1 - Exposition

You had become a part of the gang when they were camping near Blackwater. It was sheer coincidence that you ran into them, but every day you felt grateful that you did. Your father had kicked you out for - as you felt, and Dutch had agreed with you - unjustified reasons. Your parents had an outdated understanding of honor, which you found quite repulsive. Your dream was to work and earn money, if possible in an occupation where you could help people or change something for the better; but your parents cherished the idea of you becoming a housewife to a reputable man. As soon as you were of age, there was talk of finding you a good match and securing you a fine husband. No matter how much you pleaded that you'd rather work at your father's apothecary, even if it was just sweeping the floors, and marry someone you actually liked, your parents had set their mind to execute their plan of your future.

Maybe it's fair to say that it wasn't your father who "kicked" you out. Rather, in a fight where both of you had gotten louder, he had said something along the lines of ‘if you wanted to bring dishonor to this family, do it without us knowing and piss off’. This is what you did. And barely a few hours had passed when you met Dutch at the saloon. Dutch bought you a couple of drinks and before you knew it, he had teased out every last bit of your life's story and assessed the value you could bring to his gang. When he asked you if you were okay with living in a gang of murderers and bandits (he had phrased prettier) you had been too drunk to fully understand what you were getting into. An hour later and sobered up from the ride on Dutch's horse, you found yourself in a camp full of outlaws.

Over the next couple of days, you slowly got to know everyone. The first night you slept under the open sky was terrible. You feared that you had made a terrible mistake and would end up abused and eventually dead; but over the next couple of days, you learned that most people were very kind. The girls immediately welcomed you and after a week you already felt accepted in your new family. Dutch put you in charge for the management of the medical supplies and in general as someone capable of patching the men up if they needed it. Despite your father denying your official help in his pharmacy, you had learned a lot just by hanging around, watching and listening. You knew how to do stitches and you could bring down a fever in a couple of hours. Treating Jack's splinters, disinfecting wounds after someone had been in a bar fight or dealing with snake bites was of no challenge to you.

However, there wasn't much time to get comfortable. Barely two weeks after you had been welcomed in the gang, you had to flee. It was the messiest escape anyone could have pulled off. You had to admit that you again had regrets when you quickly packed everything valuable that couldn't be left behind onto the wagons, trembling hands making it difficult to make firm knots. "I got this, go help Tilly!", a stern voice appeared behind you. You were carefully pushed away by Arthur's hands on your shoulders. For you, this was the moment when you properly noticed him for the first time. You had been introduced, of course, but Arthur had seemed absent-minded, and his nod of recognition had been a bit too cold for you to think that he was too happy of having you in the gang. But when you had let go of the rope you had tried to knot together and looked up to Arthur, nothing could have been more reassuring in this moment than his gentle gaze on you. He was a valuable member of the gang and though everyone in the gang seemed to converse and interact on eye-level, you sensed Arthur's high status. He didn't have Dutch's charm or Hosea's creativity, but in a way he had enough of both, additionally to the force and strength to bend things to his liking. Arthur still was somewhat of a mystery to you but being recognized and acknowledged by him in the way of grounding hands on your shoulder and a simple demand suddenly made it easier to approach him.

The following days were rough. You had to flee into the mountains and a snowstorm was making sure that your progress was slow, cold and painful. Never before had you experienced so much death. You had lost Jenny and Mac, Davey was groaning and dying in the same wagon you were sitting in with Abigail, Jack and Tilly. Besides your trembling hands and your inexperience when it came to fatal gun wounds, you treated Davey as well as you could. Still, everyone knew that he didn't have long. Even though Arthur was regularly tasked with scouting ahead, every time he returned, he would stop by at the wagon you were in, inquire about Davey and ask if you were warm enough. Everyone was freezing, but this was a question of survival, rather than comfort. Even when you had arrived in Colter, it seemed like Arthur made an extra effort to make sure you had food and weren't cold. Back then, you attributed this additional attention to him realizing how freaked out you were and having lost people who could have been considered in your care.

Things started to change when you reached Horseshoe Overlook. While you had been treated with care, so you wouldn't be scared off, Miss Grimshaw did everything to put you to work from this point onwards. You - and the other girls - worked yourself sore with chores all day long. You rose early and went to bed sometimes before the sun was fully set. There was a lot to do, now that you had found a place where you could stay for a while. Arthur greeted you occasionally, but there wasn't the same care or concern on his face like it was in the mountains. You made it your task to observe Arthur more closely. It painfully reminded you that you still were in a camp full of outlaws, bad men and degenerates.

Arthur's as well as the other men's cruel remarks towards Kieran, who you fully believed hadn't done anything wrong and was misjudged by most of the gang, disgusted you. You treated Kieran's rashes on his wrists when the ropes had cut into them or cared about him staying hydrated. For you, there was nothing funny about hearing Arthur's or Sadie's insults that were thrown at this man. Also, even though you didn't specifically kept count, Arthur returned with scratches or black eyes more than anyone else in the gang. He wouldn’t even let you treat them, dismissing you with a sarcastic: "Very kind of you Miss y/n, but I'm fine."

The harder you tried, the less you understood Arthur. The deep understanding you seemed to have of him in the cold slipped away with every day you heard more about what he was getting up to when he left the camp for a day’s work. It was tricky forming an opinion of him. One evening he returned and tells everyone how he and Micah shot up half of Strawberry, the next day he makes your heart flutter when he heaves Jack onto his horse to take him fishing. Anyways, you never saw too much of him. He was often riding out and even if he returned at night, you'd be in bed, exhausted from doing the dishes and patching up pants and boots.

One evening, you were getting ready for bed and finishing up your last chore of the day, feeding the chicken, when Arthur approached you.

"Y/N", he greeted you. This wasn't unusual. He did greet you from time to time, but he'd often stick to a nod and your name, sometimes a "good morning" and then he would go on, doing whatever he had set his mind on doing that day.

"Evening, Mr. Morgan." Honestly, how you addressed him changed according to your mood. You had called him by his first name before, and sometimes you would go back to calling him sir. Recently, you had started to notice that he called you by your first name when nobody was around. Hence, him calling you like that right now. You preferred it. Your family had raised you to be courteous to people who you weren't properly acquainted with or were of higher rank, and you struggled to shake off the old habit.

"How have ya been holdin' up?", he asked, lighting a cigarette and watching you spread the corns.

"Fine. It's a lot of work but...I prefer this side of the country. I didn't like the dry and brown grass around Blackwater. Washing dishes is not so bad when you can sit in green grass doing it, I suppose", you smiled. You swiped the last grains off your hands and turned around to face Arthur, who was watching you attentively. A few moments passed in silence before the man stirred into action again. With the cigarette loosely resting on his lips, he started fumbling around in his satchel.

"Tha's right. Wanted to give ya something", he mumbled. You watched how the cigarette danced on his lips, never falling but threatening to, if the smoker showed a second of negligence. "Here ya go", Arthur pulled your attention from his lips away to a bear claw on a string, which he now dangled in front of your eyes. The claw was huge, about the same size as your middle finger, and on one side there was a fine engraving of a bear. "Is this-?", you wanted to ask when you took the claw into your hand.

"The bear I shot with Hosea", Arthur answered. He had returned with some nasty scratches about a week ago after his hunting trip with Hosea. This was pretty much the only time he let you patch him up, probably because he couldn't have reached some of those wounds on his back himself. "For yer trouble", he added. You smiled and felt your cheeks get warm. This was a fine gift. "Thank you!"

"Sure", Arthur almost dismissed it, "if ya don't like it, it should be worth something. I commissioned a fence with the engraving. He probably got it done for way under the market price."

"Oh, I won't sell this", you quickly stated, "it's a beautiful reminder that even you sometimes need some assistance." Arthur clicked his tongue, his lips curled into a slight smile. "If ya say so."

Part 2 - Little Gifts

As soon as you were used to and had learned to appreciate Horseshoe Overlook, Dutch, John and Arthur were chased out of Valentine by the law and returned with a shot Strauss in tow. Apparently, a man whose train they had robbed a couple weeks back had located them in Valentine and a shoot-out had happened. While you patched up Strauss with gentle care; since he wasn't as rough and thick-skinned like the rest of the men, there was talk of moving. You had witnessed some detectives suddenly standing in the middle of your camp a few days prior, so you imagined that a change of location was appropriate anyways. In the evening of the same day, the gang had reached Lemoyne and settled on a piece of land called Clemens Point. Though the move and packing weren’t as stressful as the time you left Blackwater, with bullets flying past your ears, you were drained after you had done your bit of preparing the new spot for the first night. Later, you completely passed out on your mattress, before you even noticed that Arthur had tried talking to you.

"Y/n!", Arthur called on you after you had dressed for the day and finished your cup of coffee. You looked up to locate where his voice had come from, but Arthur was already approaching you from his tent. He was neatly dressed in a shirt you hadn’t seen him wear before. The new shirt was probably due to his other one being stained with blood from yesterday – not his own blood, he had assured you after he had returned from Valentine and you had given him a quizzical look.

"Good morning", you offered him a kind smile. The morning air was still fresh, and the birds were slowly waking up, chirping and singing. It was marvelous watching them fly low over the lake to catch bugs. Arthur and you were two of a handful of people who were already awake, the rest was still resting from the demanding relocation.

"Ya ever seen real gold", Arthur asked.

"Hmm", you had to think for a second before you answered, "Don't think so. In a coin, maybe."

"Look at that", Arthur pulled out a gold ingot about the size of your hand.

"Wow", your mouth was agape, "That's worth a lot, isn't it?"

Arthur nodded and proceeded to tell you the story about the Germans, whose father he and Charles had saved. While he told you this story, you thought about how this was the longest he had ever spoken to you, and you enjoyed every second of it. He let you hold the ingot, which you carefully weighed in your hand and looked for your vague reflection in the polished metal.

Over the next couple of days, you noticed Arthur's attempts of starting a conversation with you. You were always happy about the attention and even happier when Arthur started to bring you little things he found on his journeys. One day it was a beautiful songbird feather, the next it was a violet snowdrop, a handful of blackberries he had picked or an extra bar of chocolate he had "accidentally" purchased. It had almost become a ritual: Whenever you saw Arthur returning to camp, you’d walk up to him, greet him with a “you should hurry before all the stew’s gone” and he would jump off his horse and make you blush with a “I got something for you”.

You brought it up one afternoon, when you sat in a circle with the girls, all of you busy with another piece of clothing that needed patching.

"I never expected Arthur to be so kind to women. First, I thought he hated me because he was so cold and distant, but now he started bringing me stuff almost every day", you introduced the topic.

"Kind to women?", Tilly asked, a cheeky smile already forming on her lips.

"Yes. He does bring you flowers too, doesn't he?", you asked, still in the belief that you weren't an exception when it came to Arthur's attention.

"Oh, of course", Tilly joked, "look at this basket full of flowers Arthur gave me over the last couple of weeks." She nodded towards the empty laundry basket. The girls giggled at your confusion, but Mary-Beth didn't want to tease you for long.

"Arthur has maybe brought me...one gift ever. And this was months ago. He likes you, y/n. We thought you had noticed!", Mary-Beth explained. You blushed at the topic of your discussion. "You think so?", you quickly asked, more due to a lack of having nothing else to say.

"We know so", Mary-Beth confirmed.

"And we know that you like him back", Tilly added.

"I do!?", you asked, trying to hide your red cheeks by looking down at the shirt you were mending.

"I'm sure the way you blush and smile every time you see him or treasure every gift, he gives you does not indicate any affection whatsoever", Mary-Beth teased.

"But- Arthur never said anything-", you stuttered.

"Neither did you!", Tilly interrupted.

You grumbled in defeat. Apparently, it was obvious that you liked Arthur and that Arthur liked you. Now you only had to find a way to resolve all of this. You thought about his higher status in the gang and how new you still were. Would it be even appropriate to approach him about that? Surely not. And what if the girls had it wrong and he was just...being kind, so you would feel at home after the uncomfortable start you had had. Your thoughts were interrupted by Dutch who yelled out "Gentlemen? Like Colm O'Driscoll?"

"They want a parley? It's a trap", Hosea chipped in from across camp. You and the girls weren't the only ones whose attention was caught by the conversation. Some of the men, including Arthur, gathered around a table in a livid discussion. Two minutes later, you saw Arthur, Micah and Dutch mounting their horses to ride out.

"What was that about?", Karen wondered.

"I don't even want to know", Mary-Beth sighed.

Your eyes however were fixed on Arthur's back which slowly disappeared in the shadow of the trees.

Micah and Dutch returned the same night, without Arthur. You were in no position to ask what had happened, but from Dutch's expression you could tell that it surely didn't go according to plan. Over the next two days, nobody wondered where Arthur was. When you asked, out of concern and worry, the replies were similar to "probably out looking for a lead", but deep down you knew this wasn't true. Even though you still worked yourself sore every day, you stayed up late, hoping you'd catch Arthur in case he returned at night.

On the third night it paid off. You weren't the only one who noticed the slouched rider who fell from his horse when it arrived in camp. But when Karen, Mary-Beth and Dutch approached the figure now stretched out on the floor, you already knew exactly what was going on.

"Miss Grimshaw, I need help! Reverend Swanson! Miss y/l/n!", Dutch yelled.

You jumped up and joined the group of people forming a circle around Arthur. He leaned on Pearson's support, Dutch leading him to his cot. His union suit and weapon's belt were the only thing he wore, and on his shoulder, you saw an evil looking wound. You could tell, though the light was only dim, that Arthur was in a horrible condition. Maybe not fatal, but the state he was in clearly wasn’t a comfortable one. The warmth drained from you fingertips, the realization that a man who could probably handle a broken nose with a shrug and a bottle of whiskey could barely stand, let alone walk, shocked you.

"You're safe now, Arthur. You're safe now", Dutch repeated. A bit of anger arose in you as you ran to the medical wagon to gather everything you'd need for proper first aid. You were sure that Dutch’s and Micah’s negligence had brought this upon Arthur.

"That's pretty, Dutch", Arthur coughed as he fell onto his cot, "that's real pretty."

Dutch looked out for you, who was fast approaching Arthur's tent, arms full with medically supplies. "Miss y/n. Will you tend to his wounds and sit with him for a while?"

"On it", you confirmed, spilling the supplies across Arthur's table and readying yourself for the treatment.

Part 3 - The Wounded

There he lay in front of you. Arms and legs sprawled out, his union suit dirty and stained with blood. The wound on his shoulder looked nasty, but you could immediately tell that he had already taken care of it - to an extent. You were nervous beyond comprehension. You had taken care of Strauss' and John's gunshot wounds, but this was different. The wound wasn't fresh plus the man who suffered from it was one you cared the most for. You whirled around, your gaze landing on the faces of Miss Grimshaw and Swanson.

"Reverend, could you bring me a bowl of water? And Miss Grimshaw, please be so kind and close the tent flaps. I got it from here", you ordered. While Miss Grimshaw had total control over you when it came to washing dishes, she knew that you were in your element when administering first aid and she respected you for that. As soon as the flaps were closed and you had washed your hands, you turned to Arthur who was heavily breathing on his cot. Your eyes met his tired and exhausted ones.

"You're going to fine, Arthur", you affirmed, "I'll patch you up."

"Yeah, that's alright", he said in a raspy voice, his eyes slowly closing.

He was out the very second. It was difficult to get his limp body out of his union suit, but you were determined to at least have his upper body naked, so you could properly assess the damage. Besides the gun wound, which you swiftly cleaned again and patched up, there were several bruises on his abdomen that suggested he was being hit multiple times, probably tortured. It took you almost an hour to treat every scratch and bruise, but you had set your mind to doing it properly. It would have been hard to put into words what you felt when you treated Arthur. Mostly, you were just angry that this had happened. Then you felt anxious, what if you had done something wrong and the wound wouldn't heal? But at the end you just felt tired.

With your hands freshly washed you sat down on the chair next to Arthur's cot and took his hand into yours. It was what your mother had always done when you were sick and suffering. There hadn't been anything else she could do, with your father being the proficient doctor, but she would always sit next to you, simply being there and granting you physical contact. You tried sitting on the chair and holding Arthur's hand, but your eyelids became heavy and you fell asleep a couple of times, only to be woken up when gravity made your head jerk down. So, you decided to settle down on the ground next to Arthur's cot, kneeling next to it, your arms and head resting next to Arthur's hips, his hand still in yours in front of your face.

You were woken with the soft touch of Arthur's thumb slowly caressing your cheek. It took you a couple of moments to understand where you were but when you had finally pieced together everything you sat up straight. The twisted sleeping position hadn't done you any good. The backpain started to harass you the second you took your first conscious breath. It was still dark in the tent, only a ray of sunlight had found its way through the flaps and illuminated the dust dancing in the air. Arthur's eyes found yours, his hand which had cupped your cheek now resting motionlessly at his side.

"How do you feel?", you were the first to disturb the silence.

"Fine", Arthur answered briefly.

"No- but really", you asked again. The sweat on Arthur's forehead made you suspicious. It wasn't that hot, and he was...barely clothed. You hadn't even tried to put his union suit back on, so he had been left half naked all night. Arthur couldn't finish his shrug before you felt his temperature on his forehead. A mild fever, you quickly assessed.

"Don't lie to me. Not when you're in my care", you said worriedly. You tried to hide the stress in your voice, but you weren't sure if you had done such a great job at that. You blamed yourself for not waking up earlier, for having fallen asleep when Arthur was getting a fever.

"Sorry", he apologized before he avoided your gaze. You smiled gently; you weren't mad at him, and there was no point in blaming you. You silently prepared a mixture of some herbs and dipped a cloth in water to place on his forehead.

"It's just a mild fever. Maybe a small infection in addition to the stress...you're going to be alright. We'll have this fever down in no time", you explained, handing him the mixed herbs that you blended with water for Arthur to drink. "Taste's awful", you warned. It was gone in one gulp, and though you saw him scrunch his nose he didn't complain.

The fever was gone after a few hours, but Arthur remained exhausted for a couple more days. Most of the day you'd sit at his side, sometimes caressing his hair or hand when he was tired enough to barely notice. Arthur rarely spoke for the first two nights, he only groaned when he had to get up and walk to the forest with shaky knees or thanking you when you handed him a cup of water. One time, he asked you for a cigarette and as he reached out to take it, unconsciously used his hurt arm, which resulted in him flinching back. So you slowly brought the cigarette closer to his lips. Arthur shot you a curious gaze before he allowed you to let the cigarette rest in the corner of his mouth. He patiently waited for you to light a match and consequently the cigarette, puffing it a few times before he finally used his perfectly working arm to smoke comfortably. Never would you have thought to wait for a sign of gratitude, you knew that Arthur wasn’t a person who liked to be taken care of. He didn’t want to be a burden, you understood that sentiment. But every day you sat at his bedside you found him accepting your help more and more and you could tell, just by the way he looked at you, that he was slowly starting to enjoy it.

You often fell asleep with your head resting on his cot, and just as often would you wake up with Arthur's hand on your cheek. After the fifth day, Miss Grimshaw made you work chores again. Arthur still had bedrest. Every opportunity you found; you'd join him in his tent. Chopping carrots? You would do it on his desk. Mending trousers? Why not by his side? When Arthur had rested enough and though he wasn't physically fit, he'd talk to you a lot. You'd find the opportunity to tell him more about your family and the circumstances that made you join the gang. He, in turn, would tell you a bit about the earlier days, when it was just Dutch, Hosea, John, Miss Grimshaw and him.

It was in those hours that you got closer. You didn't stop holding his hand after the first night, you had made a habit of it. At first, only when he was falling asleep, but soon you found yourself brave enough to grab his hands when you were telling each other stories. You couldn't help but blush, every time you demanded his hand, but the embarrassment disappeared when, one night, he was the one who grabbed your hand.

It was late, his tent flaps were closed, and the only source of light was a lantern flickering on the table. You were seated on the cot next to Arthur, a reasonable distance between you.

"Thank you fer takin' good care of me", Arthur mumbled.

"Naturally", you smiled, "I'm just glad I found a purpose in this gang. Caring for you folks..."

"So what? Every man here gets the hand holding treatment? Is that what ya did to Marston after ya stitched his face up?", Arthur teased.

You giggled: "No. I dare say that's special treatment just for you."

"Yer treatin' me way better than I deserve, ya know", Arthur said after a short silence. His eyes darted around in the tent, searching for something to direct his attention towards.

"I don't think so. Spending so much time with you over the last couple of days...I think I never quite realized how lovely you could be", you admitted. That's right. You never thought that the man who gave you the cold shoulder and the enforcer of the gang, the brute who can shot up half of Valentine or Strawberry would happily shuffle in his cot when you let your hand glide through his hair. This time it was Arthur's turn to blush. Even in the dim light of the lantern you could see his colored cheeks. Even his ears were a brighter red than usual. You grinned satisfied at his embarrassed state. Arthur had to take a double take at your face to figure out what you were so smug about before he said:

"Look at ya, all happy about me being helpless. Don't even wanna know what yer parents would say about ya going around flattering a bad outlaw", Arthur was desperately looking for a topic that would give him control over the conversation. Your comment about him being lovely had thrown him off course more than he'd like to admit, and he struggled under the knowledge that you knew you had an advantage at the moment.

"I can imagine what they'd say but...here I am giving a damn on their opinion", you answered. You finally realized that the manners of the gang had rubbed off on you. Never before in your quiet household in Blackwater would you've been able to talk like that to your parents. Suddenly you found yourself holding eye contact with Arthur. It wouldn't have been any easier figuring out what both of you were thinking if you had been an open book. You would be lying if you said that you didn't think about kissing Arthur a lot the last couple of days. He was so handsome, especially when he was asleep, and you had taken the time to study his features. Deep down, you hoped he had done the same when you had fallen asleep and were woken by his hand caressing your cheek. There was a certain magnetic pull in the situation you were in. Neither could you move forward, nor backwards. You felt frozen in place, unable to close the little distance that was between you and Arthur. Doubt started to creep up in you quickly. Maybe it's not meant to be. Maybe not yet. But your thoughts were interrupted by Arthur, who blinked and suddenly spoke to you in a low voice.

"Y/n...it's okay if ya say no, but I'd really like to-"

"Yes!", you nodded hastily, and you could barely close your eyes before Arthur's free hand found its place on your cheek, cupping it carefully, as his lips made contact with yours.

#arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redemption community #rdr2 #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr #rdr fanfiction #rdr2 fanfiction

314 notes · View notes

winterchimez · 8 months

Text

tag game! 🎮

tagged by: @zzoguri (thank you my sweetest moni <33)

rules: post snippets from 3 wips and 3 published fics

published fics 📖

beast in the beauty (s1 - old tales, new beginnings)

aaahhh my very first baby that i love dearly and will forever have a special place in my heart 🥹🥹 it is also thanks to you guys that this has now turned into a full-fledged ot11 series 🫶🏻 i will forever love the dynamic between eric & y/n in this, and i def miss writing this season loads (yall istg i cried writing the final few chapters like omg she’s done 😭😭😭) but yes, i love crime and i will def continue to write more of this genre in my future fics 😉

lip sync (ji changmin)

this was written based on their jp track lip sync and lol i wrote this on impulse and didn’t think much of it, until yall reassured that it was good from all the feedback ive gotten abt this 🥹 so yes now its one of the oneshots that i’ll forever be proud off 🤧

criminal (lee juyeon)

by far MY ABSOLUTE FAV oneshot ive ever written, and it is all thanks to my love @cloverdaisies for requesting this 🥹🥹🥹 immediately when you sent in the prompts i knew, i had to deliver a criminal juyeon fic for you and im so so glad this was well-received too 😭🫶🏻 fear not folks, i will eventually write a pt2 for this 👀

now, hohoho moving onto the fun part, my wips ✨

[untitled] (s2 - old tales, new beginnings)

lo and behold, a tiny weeny spoiler for s2 that is dropping real soon 👀 this 2nd season will be based on phantom of the opera so yall do expect more jaw dropping moments (i hope) & more drama bcs it’s gonna be a sangnew series ✨ (yes i have yet to figure of the title just yet but i will in time when its out 😭) tagging my biggest chanhee lover @heemingyu 👀

catch me if you can (lee juyeon)

okay so this was originally written for @cloverdaisies birthday but then irl stuff happened and i got sick so i couldn’t finish it on time 😭😭😭 but i will eventually get this out one day for you my love bcs I FREAKING LOVE THIS FIC. yall this is a yuukoku no moriarty au so if you ever read the manga/watch the anime YOU AND I NEED TO BE FRIENDS RN.

after midnight (sunkyu series)

so this was inspired by the weeknd’s moth to a flame and yes. it’s a nightclub au, it’s pretty suggestive, and it’s otome so you gotta pick if you want sunwoo’s or changmin’s route as the story progresses. it’s been a while since i’ve touched this so im presenting the best/spiciest part i have so far lmao 🤪 tagging @sungbeam for this cs i think ive never shown you this wip of mine 🤡 (or maybe i have ive forgotten)

tagging: @cloverdaisies @cupidjyu @heemingyu @juyeonszn @hongyangi @daisyvisions @hanniluvi @littleroaes

#tag games! 🎮#mutuals! <3 #moni 🦝#❄️ — wips!#❄️ — writes!#the boyz x reader

12 notes · View notes

ribbondee · 1 year

Text

Hope, a PMATGA Oneshot

He never wanted to be here, let alone do the things he had done. It would be a lie to say he was okay. He was as far from it as you could get. His entire being was riddled with anger, hatred… guilt. Guilt over the atrocities he was forced to help with. Laying waste to cities, capturing those who resisted… It was horrible.

The red Pac Worlder was seated beneath a tree, gazing up at the starry sky above. It was pretty, a stark contrast to the grim atmosphere of the camp. Most of the other soldiers were asleep in their tents, others stayed awake and kept watch.

It was an average sort of day, average of course meaning the war continued to rage onward. More destruction, more casualties of both civilians and especially yellow ones. More of being forced to endure the commander's barking.

He clenched his fists, looking down at the ground. It wasn't fair. Why couldn't he fight with the good guys?! Oh. Right. Everyone that sided with the bad guys were promised a large sum of money and a favorable position in the New World Order. Of course, his family being dirt poor prompted him to join, a decision he would later deeply regret. He wondered how they were doing. His mother was likely worried sick, and his father was probably off working or something.

Defecting wasn't an option either- betraying that side would mean you would be hunted down and killed. Damned if he did, damned if he didn't.

He gritted his teeth, stood up, and punched the trunk of the tree out of anger. It hurt, but he didn't care.

"Blinky? You alright there buddy?"

Blinky jumped, but immediately recognized the voice. He turned to where it had come from and was greeted with the sight of the blue Pac Worlder.

"Oh… hi Inky."

"What's s'matter?"

"Can't sleep. Where are Clyde and Pinky?"

"Sleeping."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

A few awkward, silent moments passed. Blinky sat back down, and buried his face in his hands.

Inky sat down next to him, full of concern. "You wanna talk about it?"

"I just… hate being part of all this."

Inky put a hand on Blinky's shoulder. "I know buddy, me too."

Blinky was no stranger to the knowledge that Inky never wanted to be there either. Apparently he came from a rich family. A family so stinking rich it was a miracle a foul miasma didn't follow them all everywhere. He had apparently been forced into joining Commander Betrayus' side by his parents, since they supported his twisted ideals.

He remembered the day he first met Inky. They immediately became friends, then eventually something more. Then sometime later the two of them met Pinky and Clyde. Overall, Blinky could certainly say that meeting them all was the only good thing to come out of this so far.

"I don't know Inky… I'm just so scared. I don't want Betrayus to win, but if he loses we'll all be executed for sure!"

"Yeah… it sucks. But hey, if he does win it won't be all bad! We'll still have each other!"

"Heh… yeah."

As a matter of fact, the pair of orbs already made plans for what they would do if Betrayus won. They would buy a house and live together, or maybe even start a business of some kind. Or heck, maybe they would use the money to travel around the world. It truly didn't matter what they did, so long as they did it together.

So the pair of orbs sat underneath the tree and embraced each other, waiting in vain for the day that would unfortunately never come…

#pmatga #pacman and the ghostly adventures #inkblink #blinky x inky #Oneshot #fanfiction #angsty fluff

22 notes · View notes

omori-sv-au · 1 year

Text

NVM I FINISHED IT here is the second oneshot its pretty silly

Sunny checked his phone; 12:30. Time to get up. He slowly rose from the bed as quietly as possible to not disturb Kel, who was sound asleep next to him. His snores, loud as ever, reassured Sunny that he wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon.

Downstairs, Hero sat in the kitchen, mindlessly scrolling through his phone, waiting for something. The sound of footsteps approaching prompted him to look up, seeing Sunny arrive.

“Sunny!” He exclaimed quietly, as to not wake up anyone in the house. “So, you ready for a great night?”

Sunny simply nodded. A cheeky grin appeared on Hero’s face.

“Then let’s go! No time like the present,” he said, hopping off the stool he was sitting on and heading towards the door. After fumbling with his keys for a second, he opened it, holding the door open for Sunny. The two left without a word.

“So, fair warning, it’ll probably get a little crazy. I know you can get overwhelmed sometimes, but you’ve got keys to my office, right?” Hero asked while he and Sunny got into his car. Sunny nodded again.

“Good! You’ve got my full permission to sit in there until you feel like coming out again. Although, I wouldn’t recommend missing out!“

He started the car, and the two were on their way. Hero made sure not to take any main roads- he didn’t want them being seen or followed. Of course, this meant it took longer to get to their destination, but Sunny didn’t mind. If anything, he enjoyed car rides.

Eventually, Hero pulled over into an alleyway, and parked the car.

“We’ll still need to walk for a bit. I didn’t want my car parked too close,” he explained. The two got out, and Sunny followed Hero’s lead down the city streets.

Hero stopped at a building that looked long-abandoned. Sunny had been here a couple times, but wasn’t too familiar with it, as it wasn’t the main place he worked with Hero in. Unlocking the door, Hero and Sunny went in and quickly made their way to Hero’s office.

You wouldn’t have been able to tell from the outside, but as soon as they opened the door, it was obvious what was going on. Music could be heard blasting from another room, along with a mix of voices that were singing and yelling.

“Normally, I’m not so late to these- but dinner with Kel was more important. But hey, now we’re here!” Hero explained, opening a closet and pulling out his classic two-piece suit. Sunny went to the bathroom to change into his own clothes.

When he returned, Hero was just finishing up, buttoning up his jacket.

“Okay!” he began, grinning. “I think it’s time we go join the party!”

The pair left Hero’s office and went down another hall. Hero swiftly swung a door open to an enormous room full of people, music, and lights. Wow, Sunny thought. Hero goes all out for this stuff. While the party didn’t stop or pause when they entered, Sunny definitely could feel eyes turning to them as they made their way through the crowd.

Eventually, Hero stopped at a makeshift bar, leaning against the counter.

“Boss! You’re here! What can I get ya?” The man behind the counter asked, putting down the glass he was cleaning.

“Just get me a beer,” he responded. After a pause, he suddenly turned to Sunny. “Oh! Do you want anything?” Sunny shook his head.

“Figured. Just thought I’d ask,” he said, grabbing the beer the bartender brought out for him. “I’m probably going to go join the crowd. Want to come with?”

Sunny thought for a second, then nodded. Hero smiled.

“Attaboy! C’mon!” He exclaimed, getting up and walking towards the crowd of people, gesturing for Sunny to follow. They weaved their way through, though walking wasn’t too difficult as most people quickly moved out of the way for Hero. He stopped at a couple of couches that were moved to form a big circle, and promptly sat down, and Sunny sat next to him.

There were a couple people around that he recognized, and Hero started talking to them, but Sunny had tuned out. He was much more interested in watching the party itself. He had never been to something like this, much less at this scale. It was a totally new experience for him.

It was a little loud, though. He would probably have to retreat to Hero’s office at some point to give his ears a break. Speaking of Hero, a mini-crowd began to form where they were sitting once word spread that he was there. Sunny always thought it was a bit silly how people would suck up to him- it’s not like he was going to give them a raise or anything because they complimented his suit. A hand landing on Sunny’s shoulder quickly snapped him out of his thoughts and sent him back to reality.

“-And Omori has just been great,” Hero said, sending a smile towards Sunny.

“I mean, when do we ever get guys around here with superpowers? All of ‘em just wanna be superheroes. Makes things so much harder for me.”

“Ooh, can we see?” A man leaning behind the couch asked, tilting his head. Hero looked back towards Sunny.

“You wanna show them?”

Sunny slowly lifted up a hand, causing one of his signature red hands to appear next to him. He then made a peace sign with his hand, the red one imitating him. The display garnered some oohs and aahs from the crowd, and then he made the hand disappear. Hero laughed, and then went back to his conversation.

After a bit, Sunny started to feel a bit overwhelmed, so he quickly excused himself and made his way to Hero’s office to relax.

He sighed as soon as he closed the door, and quickly sunk into Hero’s unfathomably comfortable office chair. Surprisingly, Sunny found he didn’t hate or even dislike being at the party. Sure, it was pretty loud, but his status made it so that the thing he hated most at social gatherings didn’t happen to him: random strangers trying to talk to him. It was only Hero, which he appreciated.

Showing off his powers made him think. He’d never been asked to display them like that, since he spent most of his life trying to hide them.

When he was little and found out about his powers, he so badly wanted to be a superhero… but Mari was the one who ended up stopping him in his tracks. A wise decision that ended up being, Sunny thought. He would now rather die than be like one of them.

He sighed. At least he wasn’t. It didn’t matter now. Now he was surrounded by people who respected him, and liked his superpowers, and didn’t think that having them meant that you automatically had to become a superhero or you were a disservice to society.

…Maybe he had been by himself for long enough. Sunny went to the bathroom, and then went back into the party, trying to find Hero.

That ended up being a more difficult task than he thought. The party room was still as big as ever, and he couldn’t quite remember where the couches were. Sunny began to search quickly, making his way through the crowd to find Hero. Eventually, he recognized one of the couches from behind, and walked over.

Hero was in a much different state from before- his jacket was taken off and thrown over his shoulder, and he had clearly had more than a couple drinks.

“Omori! You’re back! Come sit down!” Hero exclaimed upon seeing him, waving before aggressively patting the empty spot next to him. Sunny sat, and watched Hero as he began laughing about his latest successes.

Sunny cracked a small smile; one that was just barely noticeable. He enjoyed seeing his friends having fun- and in turn, he began to have a little fun himself.

Maybe parties aren’t all that bad, he thought, settling more into his seat.

#omori sv au #omori #omori au #omori hero #omori sunny #i couldnt stop thinking abt the hero workplace parties i had to write abt it #its so funny to think abt #my writing

27 notes · View notes

ghostlycoze · 9 months

Text

°•.Howdy Hey!.•°

Hi there! I'm Ghost, an Aussie guy with ADHD and a raging hyperfixation on Rainworld.

- He/Him

- 20y/o, old ass /j

I'll leave the rest under the cut because it's a pain to scroll through.

Welcome to my little blog where I do not shut up about RW (with hints of other media I like via likes and reblogs, e.g. CotL, Oneshot, Ori, Moominvalley, Spyro the Dragon, ...Mune? Apparently? etc)

I'll mainly ramble about RW lore, the iterators, as well as my own oc stuff relating to RW!

Warning: I swear a fair bit, sometimes make jokes that are suggestive, and do occasionally write darker subjects that may be sensitive — for example: gore, character death, scenes relating to breaking the self destruction taboo, etc. However, I will tag all accordingly and put proper warnings beforehand!

I also do like to reblog/write a lot about shipping RW characters! I will tag all as [#RW shipping], for those who want to avoid shipping all together, as well as the ship in question's name, e.g. [#rw sunstone], for those who want to avoid certain ships. I personally enjoy sunstone, lilypad, ragequit, and traffic light (and a general polycule vibe with the group. no peb-moon shipping, ew they're siblings).

°•.Writing.•°

I am mainly a writer, so I maaay start posting some of the scenes I write here or on AO3! With my ADHD I'm not expecting to finish a full long fanfic (though I'd love to if I could pull it off), so instead I'll use a method many others have here and post little bits and pieces of the lore, string it together and throw in some more with prompts from asks and such :]

° These Bridges That Bind Us

My main AU, a simple off-the-string, happy ending au primarily focused on the local group finding a new purpose in life, healing, learning to survive in this world, and also some robo-romance (Good ol polycule)

° Iterator Revolution

An AU where the iterators turn against the ancients for the sake of their freedom, find their way off the string, and flee. But this also undoes the events of the mass ascension. Sliver of Straw never dies.

° Moon Memory Loss

A smaller AU focused on Moon's memory loss, exploring her falling in love with Sig again and reconciling with Pebbles even after remembering the mistakes he made. Off the string, happy ending, just with a lot of Moon-centered angst.

° Human/Modern AU

A maliable AU centered around my version of Chasing Wind. No real plot, just cute romance, healing, and Moon being a cute country gal.

° Cult of the Rain AU (Cult of the Lamb x Rainworld crossover, made with @sapphicdib)

An AU where the Rainworld characters play the roles of the Cult of the Lamb characters, with the iterators being the bishops and the scugs being eeeeverybody else. Saint is the Lamb, Sliver is The One Who Waits.

Outside of that, I've got a sort-of-AU in relation to two of my OCs, Ever Changing Fates and No Rhyme or Reason. Two little dudes having their own stories unfold, probably placed in the TBTBU AU.

°•.Art.•°

I draw a bit, but am not really an actual artist so I don't know hoooow much I'll be posting that kind of thing — Though I would like to share my designs of these characters, so we'll see!

I'll eventually post some refs of both my personal iterator/scug designs as well as my ocs, so when I do I'll link those on this post too!

___________________________________________

Status:

°•.Asks and DMs: [ Open! ].•°

Feel free to send in any asks if you'd like to talk about RW — whether in general to just have another mutual to talk to (though fair warning, I am a bit socially anxious, though I'd still love to meet some other RW fans :]), about my fanfic, or my RW OCs; all is welcome!

I'd love to try to write little scenes out or maybe do some sketches in responses to asks, it'd be a fun creative exercise to help me keep practicing.

°•.Requests, Trades, Commissions, etc: [Closed].•°

I'm still not hugely active on here and am very unconfident with my art and writing, so I doubt I'll be open to much like this for now at least.

However I do love sharing ideas, and could possibly take inspiration and write based on a prompt discussed; but I won't be specifically fulfilling requests for writing scenes or anything right now :]

______________________________________

°•.Tags.•°

• #ghost rambles = text posts, non-creative-writing type stuff

• #ghost reblogs = featuring my amazing commentary in the tags /j

• #ghost arts = any original art posts

• #ghost writes = any original writing posts

• #ask reply = as you might guess, ask responses. Might be useful to group them together from the flood of me reblogging stuff

• #ghost lore = anything relating to my HCs, fanfics, or OC lore, for those who want to see it all! and for those who don't:

• #ghost rw lore = purely HCs and fanfics, no OC stuff

• #ghost oc lore = purely OC stuff, for those who might be interested

• #tbtbu = purely for my AU These Bridges That Bind Us. Updates, little scene snippets or convos about what happens, etc

• #iterator revolution = purely for my Iterator Revolution AU. Same stuff, whatever I mention relating to the AU.

Alright, now that that's finally done, time to actually go through everything I've reblogged and posted and tag them correctly. This is gonna be one heck of a task lol

#introduction #ghost rambles #hello welcome to my blog #idk how to post im socially awkward as all hell

3 notes · View notes

practically-an-x-man · 10 months

Note

Get to know your fic writer asks! God there are SO many good questions in this one, forgive me for the large stack:

1, 4, 11, 19, 20, 26, 33, 35, 45, 51, 55, 69, 72, 77 [Catch and Release]

oooooh my friend this is a FEAST of prompts you are sharing with me!! so excited to dive into this!!

(fair warning, this is... gonna be a long one)

Do you prefer writing one-shots or multi-chaptered fics?

Multi-chaptered! Partially because I have too many ideas for my own good, but mainly because the context of a character's relationship feels very important to me and I find it hard to capture that properly in just a oneshot. Even the oneshots I have written, at least so far, all connect in some way to a larger established storyline instead of being truly standalone.

4. Where do you find inspiration for new ideas?

Reading (I do a lot of that), followed by periods of in-between where I can just let my brain marinate. For example, I just reread the first three Fablehaven books while on this band trip, and combined with entirely too much time spent staring out the window of a bus as we got from place to place, I already have an OC and a storyline cooked up for it.

If I need a smaller-dose burst of inspiration, like to get past the writer's block for a particular chapter, I'll go take my dogs for a nice long walk and let my mind wander for a bit.

11. Link your three favorite fics right now

This is admittedly a cop-out, but I have to skip this one for now. I haven't been at my computer in well over a week thanks to this trip, and most of the fics I've been reading lately have been from friends anyway (y'all are amazing writers and your fics were the first in my mind when I read this, but I want to stay neutral about this). Plus I've been up for over a full 24 hours at this point and I really don't have the energy for this question lol

19. What is the most-used tag on your ao3?

Fluff and Angst are tied, which is not a surprise in the slightest. I'm also not great at tagging stuff, so it all gets a little repetitive

20. Have you noticed any patterns in your fics? Words/expressions that appear a lot, themes, common settings, etc?

Music is definitely my biggest tie-in, it's everywhere. Fics/chapters titled after songs, music present in the fic, notable lyrics, you name it. Music is a huge part of my life, and it weaves into my writing almost everywhere I go.

Aside from that, I feel like there's a lot of queer and neurodivergency themes in my writing, for the same reason as the music: it's a big part of my life and my worldview, and that bleeds into my writing both intentionally and unintentionally.

Symbolism-wise, I think I work with mythology a lot, as well as themes of birds and flight.

26. Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

Hm... that's a tough one. They're all pretty wild in their own way.

I'm inclined to say A Love Once New, just because that one's so long that a lot is contained within it, but it also follows a pretty standard X-Men type formula once you look past the length itself.

I think it's a tie between Smoke and Mirrors and Nom De Guerre, though. Those have some of my most dynamic characters, the most intense and unpredictable villains, a few good twists, and I don't rely on the plots of an established movie (Catch and Release is a good wild ride too, but a lot of that is just No Way Home itself coming into play). I think Desert Song will be pretty wild too, but we're too early into that one for me to reveal my secrets just yet ;)

33. Do you want to be published some day?

Yes! I actually started writing fanfic as a way to hone my skills in writing, with the eventual goal of having something published. I don't intend for writing to be my primary career, but there are definitely a couple ideas that I want to get out there, and I want to write them my way.

35. What is one essential thing to remember when writing a villain?

Show their humanity. Give the audience something to relate to. Show the audience a character of unfathomable darkness and they can't relate, at best you just spark a mild intrigue in the angst. But maybe that character does it all to save their younger sister - and you've struck empathy with every older sibling reading. Maybe that character has a favorite pastime, a childhood hobby, a pet, a personal quirk - and you've reached everyone in the audience who has that same quirk.

And once you've tapped into those points of connection, that's when you can play with something deeper than intrigue. It doesn't matter how much magic or power you give your supervillains; if the audience could encounter the same person, or better yet, become the same person through some twist of fate, that's a good villain.

45. Do you want to break your readers‘ heart or make them laugh?

Both. Sometimes at the same time (or at least I try).

51. What’s your total AO3 word count?

1,087,068. I write a lot...

55. Of the characters you write for, which is your favorite? Has that choice been swayed at all by your followers/readers’ reactions to certain ones?

Ooh, tough one. I think of the canon characters, the Corinthian is my favorite to write. I love writing characters who are charming, and he fits that down to a tee. Plus, it's fun to explore his sense of morality (or lack thereof), since most of the other characters I write for trend towards the morally good. Billy/Four is a lot of fun too, namely in Desert Song - I can't quite articulate why, he's just a lot of fun to write.

Of my OCs, that's a little tougher. There's something unique that I love to write for each of them: Quinn's allegories on gender and disability, Jasper's empathic sense, Rae's bordering-on-foolhardy sense of justice, Katherine's link to mythology, I could keep going. That's partly how I keep myself motivated, really - I explore something new and different with each of them, and it's hard to choose one favorite.

I will say, though, writing Ophelia is a lot of fun. A lot of my characters are fairly spunky, since I like a good strong character to command the narrative, but Ophelia has something unique that makes her spunk a little different from the others. She genuinely doesn't care how she's perceived by others, and it results in some very fun, very daring interactions.

69. What work of yours, if any, are you the most embarrassed about existing?

I mean... Behind the Scenes. AKA, the first fic I ever wrote and posted. I thought it was rough even then, which is why it went abandoned at 7 chapters, but I'm even more embarrassed about it now that I've grown as a writer. I don't look back at it often, but whenever I do, I'm just reminded of how wholeheartedly rough it is compared to what I write now. I really should delete it or orphan it or something, but I don't want to get rid of it until I've started a rewrite for it. Which might mean I never get rid of it. But embarrassing or not, I don't just want it to be gone - it's not my job to determine peoples' personal preferences, what if there's someone who actually likes it?

Don't read it. But it's there for the people who have read it, just in case.

72. What order do you write in? front of book to back? chronological? favorite scenes first? something else?

Front to back, because I don't write the full thing before I post (I write it by-chapter and rotate my updates). Also, if I wrote my favorite scenes first, I'd probably end up with about as much writing as I have now... but it would go absolutely nowhere. Writing the gradual build, while it does get tedious at times, definitely helps me pull together a clean and unified final product.

77. Do you have a favorite scene you’ve written from [Catch and Release] story/chapter?

I was really happy with some of the flashback sequences. Originally there were only supposed to be a few, to help guide Ophelia into her place in the story, but they went over really well and I just kept having ideas, so I kept it going.

I think my favorite is the one in Chapter 10, where Harry meets Olly under the bleachers shortly after her parents died. I feel like it really showed a lot of both Harry and Olly's character, and the darkness that had begun to spread in them even as they tried to offer each other support. There also was a good bit of foreshadowing of Harry as the New Goblin in that chapter, which I put a lot of thought into.

#my friends!!!#answered asks #fanfic #my writing #fanfic author #my ocs #ask game

0 notes

tchallasbabymama · 3 years

Text

Don't Forget About Us

Hello, my lovelies. Here’s my contribution to @nahimjustfeelingit-writes smut challenge (the prompt is in bold!) Let’s see what Erik’s up to now, shall we?

Don’t forget to check out my masterlist to read my other stories and oneshots. Your comments and reblogs mean the world to me, so make sure to let me know what you think! And let me know if you want to be tagged in any of my writing. Enjoy😘

Word count: 5,595

CW: smut...duh.

youtube

“So, what do you do for a living?”

Kayla sighed internally at the question and took a sip of her Pinot Grigio. She hated first dates with a burning passion, but unfortunately, that was the only way to find a man around here. She went through the motions of politely answering his questions, barely asking any of her own. She didn’t care. Even just fifteen minutes in, Kayla could tell he didn’t excite her, and she lamented the waste of a good outfit as she listened to him drone on about his life. Every now and then, he’d stop and ask a question about her, but she could tell he was only asking so he could talk more about himself.

How many siblings do you have?

What’s your sign?

Why did your last relationship end?

Her mind traveled to her ex-boyfriend, Erik Stevens. They had spent six blissful years together, and Kayla thought he was the one. She wanted them to get married and start a family, and she thought he did, too, but every time she brought it up, he’d find some excuse to change the subject. At thirty years old, Kayla wasn’t getting any younger, so she grew tired of his avoidance and eventually cut him loose. She needed more out of life, but the guy currently sitting across from her certainly wasn’t it.

“We wanted different things,” she answered vaguely and took another sip. It would be a long night with what’s-his-name. David? Devon? Whatever. At least he had money and took her to a nice restaurant.

Darryl took the opportunity to bore her with the details of his job, which Kayla already knew. He was a colleague of her best friend, Carina’s husband. They worked at the same law firm, and Carina decided to hook them up after tiring of hearing Kayla complain about dating apps. As much as Kayla hated Tinder, she would’ve much rather been at home on her couch swiping left on the cesspool of single men Oakland had to offer. Every few dozen swipes or so, she’d find a cutie, but his bio would be abysmal, or his conversation skills would fall flat.

Despite the fact that their relationship just couldn’t make it, Kayla still thought of Erik as the gold standard. Just thinking about his dimples and his struggle beard made her smile dreamily. His big, strong arms would wrap around her and hold her tight at night, and she’d trace her fingers over the intentionally placed keloid scars that held his darkest secrets. She missed retwisting his locs and the way he always smelled like sandalwood and warm vanilla. Kayla didn’t want to admit it, but she still loved him. No man could compare to her Erik.

“Hello? Kayla?”

“Huh? Oh, sorry. Can you repeat that last part?”

“Uh, yeah, sure. What’s got you so distracted, babygirl?”

Kayla fought the bile rising in her throat. She wasn’t his babygirl. It didn’t even sound right coming from his mouth. Maybe it was the thinness of his lips. They weren’t “white man” thin, but they couldn’t hold a candle to the juicy pussy pleasers she had grown accustomed to.

“Nothing, just thought I saw somebody I know. You were saying?”

“Just that you look beautiful tonight,” Damon attempted to flirt with her.

Kayla wanted to roll her eyes but thanked him instead and smiled politely again. Of course she looked beautiful; she had pulled out all the stops for what she had hoped would be a good night out. Kayla had squeezed her thickness into a lavender satin dress. The way the dress’s skirt cinched on the side kept it snug around her plush waist, but the high slit that traveled up her thigh was the main attraction. The strappy silver heels on her feet showed off her matching pedicure that contrasted beautifully with her glistening brown skin, and her makeup was flawless. Her outerwear for the night, a cropped fur jacket that had found its way to the coat check when they arrived, was the icing on the cake. Her outfit deserved the appreciation, just not from Deshawn.

The waiter saved her from having to focus on her date when she brought out the food they had ordered. Since Kayla knew Derek had money, she had ordered the whole lobster, and she fought her mouth from drooling too much as the waiter set it down in front of her. It laid on a bed of forbidden rice, and the side of roasted brussels sprouts and cremini mushrooms looked heavenly. The ramekin of drawn butter off to the side tempted her as it sat next to the minuscule seafood fork. She may not enjoy her company for the evening, but Kayla damn sure was going to enjoy her meal.

“Looks good,” Dominic called from the other side of the table, breaking Kayla from her trance as he cut into his wagyu beef.

“Sure does.” Kayla wasted no time before digging into her meal. Not only was it the perfect excuse to avoid conversation, but it was perfect, period.

A slight chill permeated the air as the door swung open and the crisp January air entered the small restaurant. Kayla shivered as she complained internally about being forced to sit near the door, but that shiver intensified as she heard a voice. His voice.

“Reservation for Stevens, please.”

Kayla stilled.

“Of course. Right this way, sir,” the maitre d’ responded, and Kayla heard three sets of footsteps coming her way.

--------

“Babe, let’s go!”

“Yell at me one more time, woman,” Erik warned as he came around the corner into the living room, fastening his watch.

“I swear, you take more time getting ready than I do.”

“Whatever, Mo. You ready?”

“Nigga, I been ready!”

Erik rolled his eyes and grabbed his keys. It would be a rough night, and things were already starting off on a bad foot. He and Monique had been seeing each other for the better part of a year, and he’d finally reached his limit. She was overbearing, rude, and just after him for his money, but he hated being alone, so he put up with her bullshit. His cousin, T’Challa, had tried to hook him up with a few ladies back in Wakanda when he went to visit after his breakup, but nothing stuck. Almost immediately after coming back to the states, Erik met Monique at a charity event for the Outreach Center. She had the singing voice of an angel and had been booked as the entertainment for the evening. Erik was drawn to her like a sailor to a siren, and she immediately sank her teeth into him. Past her vocal talents, Monique wasn’t really anything special. Her personality left a lot to be desired, she wasn’t the sharpest crayon in the box, and she just wasn’t her.

The moment Kayla ended their relationship a year ago, Erik’s whole world shattered. He had lived a life full of pain and loss, but Kayla had been his lifeline. She pulled him out of the dark and made him revel in the sunshine. Hell, she was the sunshine, but now he had settled for a UV lamp at best. Kayla had wanted a life that Erik was too scared to give her, but that fear became his downfall. He still missed her most nights. He was lonely, and Monique was there to keep him company, but that wasn’t enough for him anymore. Erik craved a connection that Monique just couldn’t provide. So he decided he had to break it off and figured that doing so in a public place would probably be best. She had a tendency to throw things when she got angry.

The car ride to Chez Martine was tense. Monique had been angry all day because Erik had taken back his credit card even though she wanted to buy a new dress for their date. Her lousy mood almost made him dump her back at his condo, but Erik kept a cool head and stayed focused on the plan. He ignored the way Monique complained the entire time she got ready, reluctantly putting on a dress he had seen her wear before. It didn’t matter to him; he knew what the night held.

When they walked into the restaurant, Erik’s heart dropped into his stomach. He’d recognize that shoulder blade tattoo anywhere. She had cut off all her hair and lost a few pounds, but he knew for sure that he was looking at Kayla. His Kayla. He forced himself to look straight ahead as they passed her table and prayed that the maitre d’ didn’t sit them where she could see him. Unfortunately, he had no such luck because the only open table for two was directly within her line of sight. He prayed again that Monique would sit on the far side of the table, but Bast ignored his pleas once more. He had to sit facing her, and as soon as he got comfortable in his chair, her gaze slyly trailed over to him. They locked eyes across the room, and Erik’s heart stopped. She was just as beautiful as the last time he saw her all those months ago, but who the fuck was that sitting across from her?

“What are you looking at?” Monique’s abrasive voice cut through his eardrums.

“Nothing. Just thought I saw someone I know, that’s all.”

She cut her eyes at him and turned around to look as he buried his face in the menu.

“Quit being nosy,” he complained.

“I just wanna see who’s got your attention, that’s all.” Monique turned back around with a sour look on her face. “It’s probably that fat girl with her cleavage all out.”

“Mo, just look at the fucking menu and act like you got some sense.”

“Fine.”

Monique pouted until the waiter showed up, but she plastered a fake smile on her face as he took their order. As usual, she ordered the most expensive thing on the menu, and it bothered him to no end that she was hellbent on spending all of his money. Of course, he had plenty, but she felt entitled to it. Kayla never cared about him being rich. Hell, when they got together, she didn’t even know he was a prince, but he loved to spoil her nonetheless. He loved the look on her face when he’d buy her things or take her on the expensive trips that she more than deserved. Kayla appreciated everything he did for her with all her heart, but she’d say the same thing every time.

“Thank you, baby, but you’re all I need.”

Erik smiled fondly at the memory of when he bought her a diamond tennis bracelet from Wakanda for their second anniversary. She was so excited to have diamonds that weren’t marred by exploited labor that she damn near dropped the box when she saw what was inside. It had been a rough year for them, what with him disappearing for a couple of months to seize the Wakandan throne and all. She certainly had plenty of colorful words for him when he came back. He’ll never forget the look on her face when he showed up at her door. He had brought T’Challa for backup just in case, but she looked right past the king as tears welled up in her eyes at seeing her Erik, alive and well.

Erik’s eyes started to get misty as he thought about the way she kissed him with so much emotion...then slapped him across the face for leaving. His gaze wandered back over to Kayla and he noticed the light bounce off of something on her arm. She was wearing the bracelet.

As if she felt his glare, Kayla shifted uncomfortably in her seat, so he averted his eyes back to Monique, who had caught him staring again.

“Why don’t you go say hi?” she asked sarcastically, making him roll his eyes so hard they almost got stuck.

--------

Erik Stevens. Here, of all places. He just had to be here.

Kayla noticed that he didn’t seem to be enjoying his modelesque date’s company any more than she was enjoying Darwin’s, and the pang of jealousy she felt at seeing him with another woman went away. She knew she had no right to feel any kind of way about it, especially since she was the one that broke things off. That didn’t make it any easier, though.

Dylan was too wrapped up in his steak to notice her wandering eye, but it seemed that Erik’s food was as uninteresting as the woman across from him. Kayla watched as he half-heartedly pushed it around his plate, but he certainly kept his favorite whiskey coming. She wanted to chuckle but didn’t want Daniel to think he had anything to do with her levity. They were both drowning their dissatisfactions in their alcohols of choice, and Kayla got a phantom taste of Uncle Nearest 1856 on her lips as she watched him take a sip. When he set the glass down and licked his lips, Kayla felt flush. She missed those lips…

“So, how about dessert?” Damien asked as he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his stomach. “I hear their creme brulee is amazing.”

“Uh, sure, why not?”

“You know,” he began as he leaned in and reached for her hands. She allowed him to take them, but the softness of his hands disgusted her. No callouses, no roughness, not even a firm grip. “I’ve had a great night. I’d love to see you again.”

Kayla chuckled nervously, unsure of how to proceed.

“What are you doing next-”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

A shrill voice pierced the air as Erik’s date bolted up from her seat. Desmond, and the whole restaurant, turned around to see what was going on, and Kayla took the opportunity to remove her hands from his.

“Keep your voice down,” Erik sneered through his teeth. “We’re in public.”

“So?! You bring me out here just to dump me? To dump this?!” she gestured at her slim figure, and he rolled his eyes.

“You ain’t even all that,” he waved her off. He was tired of playing nice, and Kayla could see the exasperation written all over his face.

“Excuse me, miss-” the waiter attempted to calm her down, but the crazed woman cut him off.

“Stay out of this!”

“I’m so sorry,” Erik mouthed to the poor man who would absolutely be getting a monstrous tip later.

“Oh, you’re sorry for him, but not for me?”

“Mo, just sit down. We can finish our meal like adults-”

“Fuck you, Erik.” She threw her dirty martini at him, soaking the front of his all-black ensemble.

Kayla could damn near see the steam coming out of his ears as his apparent ex stormed out of the restaurant. Erik locked eyes with her across the room, and when he saw the concern written all over her face, his softened.

“Whew, poor fella,” Dexter commented as he turned back around. “Where was I? Oh-”

“Excuse me, where’s your restroom?” Kayla interrupted him as their waiter walked by.

“Right down there.” She pointed at a set of stairs off to the side, and Kayla thanked her as she slid out of her seat.

“I’ll be back, Darius.”

“It’s Denzel.” He deflated.

“Fuck,” she froze. She had been sure it was Darius. “Still, I’ll be back.”

“I’ll be here,” he responded, obviously upset by her slip-up.

Kayla hurried off down the stairs and leaned against the wall as she waited for either of the single-use restrooms to open up. She took a deep breath and opened her clutch, reaching in to pull out her phone with a shaky hand and typing in his number. It was one of the few she had memorized, just in case.

“You ok?”

Her thumb hovered over the send button, but she couldn’t press it. Her heart nearly thumped out of her chest at the thought of starting a conversation with him, but something within her said that she should. It would be weird not to say anything after all that, right?

“Hey-”

“Shit!” Kayla dropped her phone when his silky baritone graced her ears.

“My fault, ma.” Erik leaned over and picked the phone off the floor, checking it for cracks. He saw she had typed a message out to him and smirked before handing it back to her.

“T-thanks.”

“No problem. And, yeah, I’m ok.”

“Huh?”

Erik pointed at her phone screen.

“Oh! Right. Um, well, that’s good to hear.” Kayla attempted to push her hair behind her ear out of habit, forgetting she had just cut it all off a week ago.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You ok? You don’t seem to into ole dude out there.”

Kayla sighed and rolled her eyes, “Oh, him.”

“Damn, it’s like that?” Erik laughed, and she slapped his arm. That slight contact was enough to spark a flame in them both, and Erik’s face turned serious. “For real, though, not going well?”

“Better than you, it seems,” she quipped as she eyed his wet shirt. That was a bad idea because his first three buttons were undone, and she caught a peek of the raised scars that she missed so much. And that broad chest, and the chain with his father’s ring that he always wore. He’d let her wear it from time to time, and she always felt like it was such an honor. He trusted her enough to let her wear it. He loved her enough to-

Kayla pried her eyes away and made yet another mistake: she looked up at him. Those eyes still looked like sweet, sweet molasses, and even though his locs were braided back, she could tell he was letting them grow out. She momentarily wondered who was retwisting them nowadays, but her train of thought was cut short by the scent of sandalwood and vanilla. Kayla’s mind went blank as she inhaled slowly.

“Heh, yeah. That was...that was pretty embarrassing. Not even gonna lie.” Erik looked away shyly, unable to hold her gaze.

“I guess you’ll need to find a new date spot, huh?”

“Nah, I think I’m good on dating for a while.”

“Same,” Kayla sighed. “Dating sucks.”

“Yeah…”

One of the bathroom doors unlocked, and a middle-aged white man stepped out and passed them on the way up the stairs.

“Well, I should-”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

Kayla walked towards the bathroom, but before she could reach the door, she felt a light tug on her wrist. His touch still gave her goosebumps, and he noticed her raised skin as she turned to face him.

“I just, uh...it was nice seeing you, Kay-kay.” Erik smiled at her, and she nearly melted. She missed when he called her that, too. “You look good.”

“Thanks, E.” She smiled back. “So do you.”

He let her go, and Kayla disappeared into the bathroom. When she closed the door behind her, she took a deep breath to center herself. After all these months, Erik still took her breath away. He clouded her senses and scrambled her mind. Even as she took care of business, her brain replayed their short interaction on a loop.

Kayla locked eyes with her reflection as she dried her hands. How could she go back up there to- what’s his name? Oh, yeah, Da- Denzel. That’s it, Denzel. How could she go back up there to his mediocre company when the man she still loved had made her feel so alive with just one touch. That was the magic of Erik, his magnetism. When they were together, she couldn’t help but be drawn to him, even when she wanted to slap him across his beautiful face. Those were some of the best times, though. If she was angry at him, he knew exactly what to do to calm her down. To put her in her place. To remind her-

Kayla’s daydreaming was cut short by a knock at the door.

“Occupied!”

It came again.

“I’ll be out in a minute!”

She reached for another paper towel to dab off the sweat that had started to pool on her skin at the thought of Erik’s dominance when the door opened.

“What the f- Erik?!”

He pushed inside the bathroom and locked the door behind him.

“You need to start locking doors, Kay.”

“I- what do you want?”

“I want to talk to you,” he spoke as he moved closer to her.

“Here?!”

“Yeah, here,” he chuckled.

Kayla rolled her eyes and tried to push past him.

“Now is not the time or place-”

“When is?” he blocked her exit, and she crossed her arms in defeat, looking up at him through her lashes as she leaned against the sink. “Look, I just need to say something real quick.”

“Fine,” Kayla sighed and gestured for him to continue. She knew there was no use fighting him. She wasn’t leaving that bathroom until he was good and ready.

“Kay,” his voice softened, and she looked away only to have her face pulled back in his direction. “Kay-kay, look at me.”

She made the mistake of doing just that, getting lost in his eyes again.

“I miss you,” Erik murmured.

“Erik-”

“Look, I know, ok? I know. And I’m sorry, Kay. I really am- no, look at me. I’m sorry I wasn’t enough for you...but I miss you, girl.”

Kayla’s eyes welled up with tears that she tried her hardest to blink away, but one had the nerve to fall. Erik wiped it away, and the next one, and the next one. A sob wracked Kayla’s body, and he wrapped his arms around her body.

“Don’t cry, babygirl. I know you worked hard on your makeup.”

Kayla laughed through her tears, but the emotions washed back over her, and she buried her face into his chest. It was already soaked with gin, so what harm would a few tears do?

He held her and rocked her softly from side to side as she cried, and after a couple of minutes, she found the will to look up at him again. His cheeks were wet, so she reached up and swiped her thumbs over them as she held his face in her small hands. He nuzzled into them and kissed her wrists.

“I miss you, too, E,” she croaked.

“I know, babygirl.”

He leaned in to kiss her forehead, and she closed her eyes as his soft lips caressed her skin. They stayed intertwined for who knows how long until Erik felt Kayla begin to pull back. He looked down at her, and the two of them locked eyes. Before they knew it, their lips had met in the middle in a passionate embrace. They got lost in each other for a moment until common sense returned to Kayla, and she pushed him off.

“We can’t-”

“Why not?”

“Because…”

“Because what, Kay?” Erik’s voice rumbled as he closed what little gap was between their bodies. He left soft kisses on her temples before working down to her cheeks, then her jawline, and eventually the column of her neck. She let out a soft whimper when his teeth grazed the crook of her neck but pushed him back again before he could continue any further.

“Erik, I...I still love you, and-”

He attacked her lips with his, hands feverishly gripping her waist as he pushed her further into the sink. She had nowhere to go, and she was ok with that.

“I...love you...too...babygirl,” he whispered between kisses.

Kayla’s mind went blank as he lifted her up on the counter and pressed himself between her legs. She could feel him, all of him, and damn did she miss that monster between his legs.

“Erik,” she moaned as he nipped at her earlobe. He still knew how to play her body like a violin.

“Mmm, say it again.”

“Erik!” she squeaked as she felt his strong hands grip her thighs.

“Just like that,” he groaned, and she flooded her already wet panties.

“Baby-”

He connected his forehead to hers and stared deep into her eyes. “You miss me?”

“Mhm,” Kayla nodded with her lip between her teeth.

“I miss you, too, baby. I think about you all the time. Every day,” he pecked her lips, “every night. I miss everything about you, Kay-kay. Your off-key singing, your horrible cooking-”

“Shut up,” Kayla giggled as his hands traveled up her dress.

“Your body…fuck I miss this body. I miss how you smell, how you taste...how that tight little pussy feels wrapped around my dick.”

Kayla widened her legs for him as his fingers found their way to the seat of her panties, stroking up and down her slit. Erik kissed his way back down her face and over to her ear, his warm breath sending chills down her spine.

“Do you think about me when you touch yourself? Because I do. You’re all I see when I stroke my dick...wishing it was your hand...your lips...this fucking pussy.”

Erik pushed her panties to the side, and his nimble fingers circled her clit. Kayla let out a small moan that was music to his ears, making fingers move faster and her breath grow shallower with each rotation.

“Answer me.”

“Mhm.”

“Come on, babygirl, you can do better than that. You think about me when you play in your pussy? This pussy right here?” he asked as he slapped her vulva, her wetness sticking to his hand.

��Y-yes, baby-”

“Uh-uh, you know who I am. Say it,” Erik commanded as he snuck three fingers inside her wetness, making her moan loudly in his ear. “Shhh, you gotta be quiet, babygirl. You don’t want people out there knowing how much of a slut you are, right?”

Kayla shook her head no.

“That’s what I thought. Now, I asked you a question, Kayla,” he reminded her. His gruff voice made her weak, and the fingers that were steadily speeding up inside her certainly didn’t help. “Answer me. Who am I, babygirl?”

Kayla tried to hold out as much as she could. She didn’t want to say it, too proud to give in, but the way he was currently stretching out her pussy and curling his fingers inside her made her cling to his shoulders. The bastard knew what he was doing, and she didn’t want to let him win. But then, he played dirty and bit down on her neck. She cried out, and when he pulled back to look at her, the ferocity in his eyes drove her up the wall.

“I said, who the fuck am I, Kayla?” Erik growled. His hand sped up, making her weak with every thrust. She couldn’t hold it anymore and came undone around him, her mouth betraying her as his name fell from her lips.

“Daddy!” she gasped as her pussy spasmed, and he chuckled darkly.

“Damn right I am,” he kissed her lips, “now gimme that pussy. Daddy missed his pussy.”

Kayla heard a rip and felt the cool air between her legs as he tore through her panties to get to her treasure trove. She reached down between them and grabbed his clothed erection in her hand, making him groan as he bit down on his luscious bottom lip. She undid his belt buckle and slowly unzipped his pants before reaching in and pulling out his throbbing dick.

The longing in her eyes told him everything he needed to know, so he pushed her legs back and tapped his head on her clit.

“You want daddy’s dick in you?”

“Mhm,” she whimpered.

“Good.”

He pushed in and groaned at the feeling of her pussy walls gripping him as he sheathed himself inside her.

“Fuck, you feel like home.”

Kayla moaned into his neck in response and wound her hips against him, meeting him thrust for thrust as he stroked into her slow and deep. She couldn’t form words. He felt so damn good inside her that Kayla’s brain had short-circuited. Erik’s dick hit spots that she could never find herself no matter how hard she tried. Even in her dreams, he drove her body wild. She had spent the last year trying to find somebody, anybody who could make her feel that way, but nobody could compare to Erik Stevens.

Erik and Kayla panted heavily into each others’ mouths as he made love to her body, and as soon as Kayla started to tense up, his thrusts grew harder.

“I-I-”

“I know, babygirl. Daddy feels it,” he groaned as he nipped at her bottom lip. “Cum on my dick like a good girl.”

His words sent Kayla into overdrive, and her body shook as she spilled over him. Her spasming walls hugged him tight, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, begging him with her eyes.

“You feel amazing,” she moaned.

“Mhm. I know them other niggas wasn’t hitting it like this. I just know it. Look at you, cumming all over daddy’s dick. Look at it!” He grabbed her chin and made her look down at her throbbing pussy as his dick slid in and out of her.

“We look so good, daddy!”

Erik slammed into her, and she bit into his shoulder to keep from screaming. He gave her his all over and over, rocking the countertop in the process.

“We’ll look even better if you let me cum in this pussy. Mix my cum with yours-”

“Yes!”

“Yes?” He chuckled. “You want it that bad, huh? Nasty ass, in here getting fucked while that bum ass nigga’s waiting for you upstairs.”

“Mmm, I want it.”

“Want what, babygirl?” Erik teased as he brought his thumb to her clit, strumming it slowly as he thrust into her.

“You. I want you to cum deep in me.”

“Shit,” Erik groaned. “You want it deep in there?”

“Mhm. Put it where it belongs, daddy.” Kayla licked up the side of his neck, making his knees buckle. “Cum in your pussy.”

Erik lost all sense of control and pounded into her tight pussy, somehow getting even deeper in preparation for his release. Kayla held on tight as she felt him begin to spasm inside her, and she released around him again as his deep moans tickled her ear. Erik thrust extra deep and held his dick in place as he emptied his balls into her warmth, whimpering lightly as she rubbed his back to soothe him and bring him back down.

“I missed you, babygirl.”

“I missed you, too, daddy.”

They stayed like that, wrapped up in each other until their breathing slowed. Erik was the first to move, slowly pulling himself out of Kayla as she whined at the loss of contact. He kissed all over her face before planting a slow, sweet kiss on her lips.

“I can’t let you go again, Kay-kay,” his voice cracked as tears threatened to fall from his eyes again.

Kayla pulled him back in and kissed him so deeply that she nearly lost herself in him again, but he pulled away and looked her in her eyes.

“I’m serious, girl. I’ll do anything. I’ll marry you, give you as many big-headed babies as you want. Just, please, Kay-” she cut him off with another kiss to shut him up.

“We should go back to my place and talk,” she whispered, and Erik’s face lit up. Something about the way she said it, the way she kissed him, the way her body still responded to his...it gave him hope. Kayla smiled at him and pecked his lips once more before hopping off of the sink. He had to catch her because her legs were wobbly, and she stumbled a little in her heels.

“You aight?” he laughed.

“No, nigga,” she slapped his chest, and the two of them got caught in a laughing fit. They had really just fucked in the bathroom at Chez Martine. Kayla was on cloud nine until a thought occurred to her, and her face fell flat. “Oh, shit.”

“What?” Erik’s face turned serious, and his eyes scanned over her body, looking for whatever the problem was.

Kayla started giggling again, and he looked confused.

“What is it?” he asked, barely able to keep a straight face. Her laugh was always so infectious…

“Demetrius.”

“Who?!”

“My date.”

“Girl, don’t worry about him. He probably thinks you dipped out anyway.”

Kayla shrugged and fixed her dress as Erik stuffed his shirt back in his pants. They checked their reflections in the mirror, and Kayla was pleasantly surprised that her makeup was still intact thanks to that setting spray she had splurged on the other day.

“Ready?” Erik asked as he admired her beauty. Kayla nodded, and he unlocked the door, opening it to find Duncan leaning against the wall with a sour look on his face. Kayla’s eyes blew wide as she tried to figure out what to say to her date for the evening.

“Heyyy, um…”

“Denzel,” he seethed.

“Yeah, sorry. So, um, we’re-”

“Sorry, bruh,” Erik clapped him on the shoulder, “but we heading out. Bathroom’s all yours, though.”

Erik pulled Kayla along, and she sent Deion an apologetic glance before following Erik up the stairs. It seemed the whole restaurant knew what had occurred, but neither one of them cared. They were just happy to be around each other again. It had been entirely too long.

Taglist: @ladymac82, @kitesatforestp, @harleycativy, @raysunshine78, @maddeningmayhem, @theblulife, @motheroffae, @love-mesome-me,@toni9, @bribrisback, @impremenior, @blacklytical, @uzumaki-rebellion, @honeyandpeaches, @cecereads209, @wakandama2,

#smutchallenge #cecewritessometimes #oneshot #erik killmonger x oc #black!oc #smut #Youtube

321 notes · View notes

lokislittlesigyn · 3 years

Text

Luck of the Dice - Loki x Reader [Oneshot]

Part 1 of Sigyn’s Angst-to-Fluff Drabbles

Inspired by Cozy’s Fluff-to-Angst Fun and Games!

Pairing: Platonic!Loki / gender neutral reader

Warnings: None. Except maybe some pillow fighting? Nobody gets hurt.

Author’s Note: This is probably very silly and underwhelming, but I hope it’s still enjoyable. Wanted to try writing something not-specifically-romantic. Romance is great! But you know what? Friendship is great too. <3

@lucywrites02:

A prompt for you 💔

"I lost everything and you're laughing!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It really shouldn’t have gone this far.

Then again, when you and the god of mischief were left alone in the Avengers Compound for a weekend, what could anyone expect? After all, you and Loki were close friends. Or, as close as anyone could be with the god of mischief. He had a calm and collected demeanor, usually keeping to himself. Far from the alien god-king hellbent on destruction you’d been led to expect.

No, Loki was different. And, with most people, distant. He rarely (if ever) showed his more sensitive side to anyone - except, perhaps, for you.

So, on this weekend when most of the team was out on small missions, and Tony had gone with Pepper for a press conference on the other side of the country, you and Loki were left to your own devices. You’d spent the day alone for the most part, but eventually your friend found you, and though he didn’t say it, you could tell he was lonely.

You decided a proper hangout session was in order.

Eventually the ordered-in pizza was long since eaten, and a ridiculous romantic comedy you’d turned on just to hear Loki’s groans of frustration with the plot, long since watched. The two of you chatted for hours, until you suggested playing a game. Loki seemed intrigued, and agreed to play along - but not before declaring he would absolutely win. You responded with a playful scoff and “I’d like to see you try.”

Now you both sat on the floor in the main common area of the compound. Distant drones of the television, the volume of which was reduced to a whisper, sounded in the background. You sat cross-legged in your favorite pajamas, a blanket around your shoulders. Loki, clad in long, soft sweatpants and a dark green shirt you gifted him at last year’s holiday party, was settled across from you. He sipped tea from a mug - which Thor had given him at that same party. He never seemed to use it when Thor was around, but you knew it was his favorite. He was sentimental. You liked that about him.

You’d already explained the game’s rules, going through the ins and outs and technicalities, and giving him the chance to ask any questions. Although he hadn’t attended many Avengers “teamwork building” game nights, he must’ve been listening, because he caught on to the game exceptionally fast.

It all went downhill from there, however.

Okay, maybe introducing the god of mischief to Monopoly wasn’t your best idea -

But it wasn’t your worst idea either, and you’d stand by that.

Besides, most of the games at the compound were strictly for groups, and the others, far too risky. You were not about to open the Pandora’s box that was playing Uno with the god of mischief.

The two of you played had already racked up properties and utilities. But the moment Loki’s top hat playing piece hit St. James’ Place, your heart sank. He’d completed another set.

“I believe that’s mine.” Loki motioned to the property card and smiled, handing over the appropriate play-money.

You traded it for the card, grumbling slightly under your breath.

“What was that, my friend?” Loki snapped the card next to his three and a half complete property sets, along with his railroads… This just wasn’t fair.

“Nothing…” You huffed. But you still had a chance. You had Boardwalk and Park Place.

He had no idea what was coming.

“...Just thinking of how you’re going down.” You smiled.

Loki scoffed. “Oh, I’m quaking in my boots.”

The game continued. You built a few hotels, and felt much better about your prospects… Until Loki got hotels too.

It’s fine! If he lands on those, you glanced at your completed red and pink property sets, along with your prized deep blues, He’s toast. I just need to make it past the orange…

You looked at the board. Gulped.

Your poor little dog piece stood at the precipice of certain doom. Currently situated on the Electric Company, your own property, you had to roll just the right number to dodge Loki’s looming hotels. He really was ruthless.

“Any day now.” Loki smirked, pulling you from your thoughts.

“I was just thinking.” You shook the dice in your hands.

“Thinking?”

“Yeah. I do that sometimes.”

“Surprising.”

You glared at him, then rolled the dice, moving your piece to - New York Avenue.

Oh, no.

Loki held out an expectant hand. You grumbled, handing him a stack of money from your hand. You were dreadfully low on cash - maybe investing in all that property wasn’t the best strategy… But how else were you supposed to win? You had to win. If the team found Loki had beat you at any game, they’d never let you live it down.

Loki rolled next, of course dodging your properties perfectly. Your next turn landed you on another one of Loki’s properties, and you forked over the necessary money with a grimace.

Loki merely chuckled, his fingers shuffling through the stack of paper to make sure everything was in order before filing them onto the plump stacks of fake bills before him. Then he rolled - dodging your properties again. You groaned out loud.

“Something wrong?” He smiled.

“No way you’re rolling so well.”

With a shrug, Loki sat back, watching you roll. “Luck of the dice, I suppose.”

“Some luck!” You rolled.

Pennsylvania Avenue.

Your fate was sealed.

Loki had bought the green properties first - of course he had - setting them up handsomely with full upgrades. You looked at the god across from you, and recognized in an instant how intensely frustrating his smug looks could be. His shoulders shook, his knuckles placed in front of his mouth.

Wait...

“You’re laughing?!” You exclaimed.

Loki chuckled, only half trying to hide it as he raised his hands in mock surprise. “Me? I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” he scoffed, but it was choppy with laughter.

“You are! You’re laughing!” Your face heated up. “I lost everything and you’re laughing!” You grabbed a nearby pillow, swinging it at him. He blocked it with his arm, shooting you a devilish grin.

“Oh, come on. What did you expect? I never lose!”

“Oh? Really? You never lose?”

“Never.” Loki smirked. You glared daggers at him, never relenting with your squishy weapon, though each blow was deflected by his arm “Woah- Hey. You’re awfully violent,” Loki chuckled, “Need to sit down?”

“Shut up!”

“Perhaps a rematch?”

“Not in this lifetime!” You laughed, chucking the pillow at him and returning to your previous spot. He grabbed it, snorting with indignance.

“Attacking me will get you nowhere, you know.” Loki held the pillow aloft, flashing you a smirk. “But then again, the first stage of grief is denial, eventually leading to acceptance-”

The next pillow you tossed hit Loki square in the face. Even he laughed, though not before tossing it back at you and hitting you in the chest - you chuckled, holding it to yourself.

“Now that I’ve demolished you in that silly game, why don’t we settle down?” Loki stretched, wiping his loose black curls back from his face. “It’s late.”

You checked the time - woah, when did it get that late? “Ah, yeah, you’re right. And you get cranky when you don’t sleep, so.” You stood, stifling a yawn.

“I beg your pardon?” Loki was standing across from you, his brow furrowed.

“What? You’re always grumpy after a bad night’s sleep. You are.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he snorted through his nose, though you noticed a twinge of humor in his expression. “You’re the one who’s grouchy in the mornings. Absolutely unbearable.”

“Oh, hush.”

Loki chuckled, settling onto the opposite couch.

As you snuggled onto the couch underneath your blanket, you swore to yourself you’d never play against the god of mischief again. Then again, seeing him laugh and smile so genuinely almost balanced out the annoyance of losing… Maybe you could be partners in the next team game. You had a good chance of convincing him to join, after all. He seemed to trust you.

You looked over at him. Yes, Loki must’ve trusted you, because he was already asleep on the other couch with a serene expression. He looked so calm, so… Happy. You smiled to yourself.

Maybe losing was worth it after all.

#oops! all fluff #loki x reader #loki x gender neutral reader #loki x reader platonic #loki x reader fluff #angst to fluff drabbles

90 notes · View notes

pink-imagines · 3 years

Text

it's alright

request: Hi! I got this oneshot idea from reading your prompts: Kirishima with a fem! or gn! s/o where they're spooning in bed and Kirishima puts his arm around reader's waist area to cuddle but then reader gets insecure caz they have a bit of belly chub and Kirishima reassures them? Maybe with tummy kisses too🥺 Thank you so much and I love your writing💗💗

a/n: listen to "Honey, it's alright" by Gregory Alan Isakov while reading this - it adds to the atmosphere :) also the R key on my computer isn't doing so good, so if there's missing a few R's then you know why (i tried checking for it though)

warnings: a bit of angst, self conciousness

mha masterlist

hq masterlist

requesting rules

"Can't sleep?", the man beside you whispered groggily. Your eyes had been stuck on the same spot on the ceiling for a while now. An hour, or so, ago you had tried closing your eyes - but it hadn't worked. That resulted in you looking at your phone for a while, giving up the thought of sleep as a whole. Now you were just staring at nothing, with your mind completely empty. "No...", you sighed and turned to lay on your side to face him. Eijiro gave you a tired, but warm, smile. He always seemed to know what you wanted. In that way, he was understanding. But you couldn't imagine that he'd be understanding towards why you couldn't fall asleep in the first place. "Do you want some tea? Warm milk?", he asked, preparing himself to get out of bed. He only had time to sit up before you put your hand on his leg, which was still under the covers. You returned his warm, tired, smile from before. You loved his eagerness to help you - but you knew he couldn't solve the issue. "I'm okay, you should go back to sleep.", you said softly, "I know you have an important day tomorrow." "Not more important than you, honey.", he cupped your face with his hand, "Please tell me how I can help." There was really only one solution to get him to stay in bed. "Let's cuddle.", you suggested, "I think that might help." "Alright, c'mere little spoon...", he layed down and opened his arms for you to join him. You laughed at his strange way of telling you to be the little spoon. But you laid down with your back pressed against his chest. His hand was on your hip, but it slowly made way to lay over your waist. The reason for your sleeplessness resurfaced and you got yourself out of his grip quickly. "Baby?", Eijiro was now more confused than ever. A low "sorry" escaped your lips. You muttered out an excuse, saying that the tea might help anyways. All so that you could get away from the situation. Knowing you as well as he did, you thought he would let you be - since he'd know that you needed space right now. At least that's what you thought you needed.

You turned on the kettle to make some tea and took out a tea bag to put in your favorite mug. It was cold in the kitchen, despite the summer being in full bloom. Maybe it was your lack of clothing, you were only wearing pyjama shorts and a tank top after all. Tea will be nice after all... Impatiently, you waited for the water to boil. You were tapping your index finger against the kitchen counter. It stopped as soon as you heard footsteps. There hadn't been a time in your life with Eijiro where you had frozen in place like that. You heard him walk into the living room first. No ideas popped up in your head as to what he could be doing there. Eventually, though, he left and started walking towards the kitchen. His presence was unexpected. When he reached the kitchen he didn't say a word. He took out another mug from the cabinett and put a tea bag in it. The mug made a soft clank sound against the marble counter. He had a surprisingly careful way of handling things in your home. You hadn't boiled enough water for two. When the water in the kettle started boiling he poured it into your cup and gave it to you. "Could you sit down in the living room, please?", he asked without looking at you. It hurt you to know that you might've been too harsch before, and had hurt him. Eijiro started boiling more water, and didn't give you more time to think or time to answer him at all. You went to the living room and sat down on the couch. Your favorite blanket had been pulled out, the window was open - which was letting in the chilly air. You put down your mug on the table, next to a few lit candles. Eijiro had been preparing before. The atmosphere in the room was similair to that of sitting outside a late summer night on the countryside. It was a feeling that you had told Eijiro about, specifically about how comforting it was to you. You pulled the blanket up over you legs and took the mug back in your hands. The sound of water coming to a boil could be heard from the kitchen. After a calming sip of your tea, you had accepted your defeat. It was clear that Eijiro was trying to lure the truth out of you, so that's what you had to give him. Even if you didn't want to.

Eijiro came into the room a bit later and sat down on the other side of the couch. He usually didn't drink tea, but for some reason it felt comfortable that he also had a cup in his hands. It felt more like a conversation than an interregation this way. "I know you're not okay, so please tell me what's wrong.", he stated quietly, "I can't watch you like this... I promise that there's something I can do to help - no matter what it is." A thick clump of anxiety grew in your throat. How were you supposed to phrase it? You knew that Eijiro was a very body positive person, but you didn't know if that made it easier for you to tell him. For a long time now you hadn't been feeling comfortable in your own skin. What you had seen in the mirror wasn't what you wanted to look like. But this realization didn't give you motivation to work harder, it only made you more reluctant to go outside. You had been wearing clothes that could cover everything up, so when Eijiro reached for the place that you were the most insecure about... you just had to move. It was all so clear in your head, but you couldn't say a word about it. "Y/N?", Eijiro's voice echoed in your head. "I hate myself!", you spat out, "It used to happen less but every day I dread to get up and look in the mirror. I don't want to go outside looking like this - I don't want anyone to look at me, especially not you." When you looked up you expected him to look shocked, scared even. But he had a calm expression, still. He reached over to you and put your cup on the table, along with his. "It's alright.", he assured you, "That you feel like that. It's okay." The clump in your throat dissolved into tears in your eyes. You let out a choked sob before you started crying and threw yourself in his arms. He held you tightly, rubbing your back soothingly. He didn't try to assure you that you were beautiful, he didn't try to make you feel better - he simply let you sit in your feelings. It was nice to cry against his shoulder. "Let it all out, okay?", he said in a hushed whisper and placed a quick kiss to your temple.

When your sobs had turned to whimpers Eijiro let go of you. He placed you carefully against the armrest of the couch again. "Wanna sleep here tonight?", he suggested and you nodded. Eijiro lifted up your blanket to crawl under it. Now he laid on top of you, like a weighted blanket, with his head on your chest. "I don't know if you want to hear it but...", his head traveled a bit further down to place a soft kiss on your stomach, "... I think you're very beautiful." "Thank you, Eijiro.", you said with a small laugh. Quick kisses were placed all over your stomach, turning your soft chuckle into a louder laugh. Eventually he stopped and looked up at you. You cupped his face with your hands and gave him a wam smile, signaling to him that he had succesfully made you feel better. "Do you think you can fall asleep?", he asked. "If you lay next to me, yeah.", you answered. Instead of laying on top of you, he crawled to lay beside you on the couch. He pulled one of your legs on top of his body and tried to make sure that you were comfortable. After kissing your forehead gently he pulled the blanket back over you. "Goodnight.", he sighed. "Goodnight.", you muttered back.

93 notes · View notes

megan-is-mia · 3 years

Note

Hi! Is it okay if I request a poly Pomefiore nsfw oneshot with the prompt starter 103- “You’re so beautiful, chained up like that on my bed. I think I might just fuck you like this.”

Thank you!

(Hopefully, this will make you happy despite how late it is >_<) 103. “You’re so beautiful, chained up like that on my bed. I think I might just fuck you like this.” (Yandere! Pomefiore Dorm x Fem! S/o) (Warning NON-CON AND NSFW AHEAD)

(Y/n) had always been an early riser, ever since she was a child she’d been that way. Since coming to Night Raven College and being sorted into Pomefiore that had not changed. While others rolled out of bed and tamed their bedhead into a presentable coiffure before greeting the day, she’d spend the hour of the sun’s rising just basking in its splendor. Yet today was one of the few times she despised her early-rising nature. For by waking up she had returned to the horrifying nightmare that was her reality.

She was aware that she was considered a beauty, even among her fellow Pomefiore students where good-looks are almost a requirement to be in the dorm she was considered to be far above-average. Such good looks might have made another soul happy or greedy but not her, for paired with her fair features were a reclusive mind and timid heart that made that gift of beauty a curse. (Y/n)’s discomfort with dealing with people was half the reason she’d become an early bird as to avoid the conflict before it began. Yet how could she avoid conflict when the place she’d awoken would bring her nothing but conflict? How could (Y/n) hope to continue her life of trying to blend in when people were sure to ask questions at breakfast? Try as she might she couldn't think of a way to explain why she had slept in the dormhead’s bed instead of her own. Yes, that’s where dawn was greeting her. From the unfamiliar warmth and comfort of Vil Schoenheit’s bed as the male in question continued to sleep seemingly undisturbed by her distress. It shouldn’t have been possible for things to be worse, but somehow they were. For it wasn’t just the beautiful boy with his blonde hair that turned lavender at the ends that kept her company but two additional bodies that ensured she wouldn't move a muscle while they slept on. If (Y/n) turned her head she could see the vice-dormhead Rook Hunt snoring peacefully with his arm wrapped loosely around her waist, his breath ruffling her hair as he breathed in and out.

As for the third occupant nestled snugly in the bed… It took (Y/n) a few moments to recognize the first-year who’s taken the liberty of using her chest as a pillow in his sleep. In her defense, Epel Felmier was basically a stranger to her. The one time they’d spoken being when she’d tried to turn him down gently a few weeks back. After that awkward encounter where she’d had to tell him she wasn’t interested, she’d been making more of an effort to try and blend in with the masses. So why was she here? And why… did her lower body feel so numb? Her head throbbed when she tried to think about it and she let out a small groan of pain as she did so. The moment the sound left her lips, the arm around her waist tightened as Rook let out a yawn. She felt his mouth press against the nape of her neck to place a kiss before he buried his nose into her hair with a contented sigh. “Good morning (Y/n)” the green-eyed male purred softly, his voice still rough from sleep and made her shiver in disgust. (Y/n) imagined that if she were to speak her voice would sound even rougher than his. considering all the screaming she’d done the night before. Yes, despite the pounding headache she had, the memories of the night before were beginning to make their way back to her. How she’d felt unusually tired after dinner, how she’d woken up with her hands cuffed above her head. She’d called out desperately hoping that someone would hear her plea and come to her rescue. Oh her pleas were heard alright, heard by the very souls who’d put her in this situation. She did not remember what exactly they’d said to her in the moment. Yet one phrase from Vil came back to her loud and clear as when it had been first uttered. “You’re so beautiful, chained up like that on my bed. I think I might just fuck you like this” the blonde had growled out, his perfectly cultivated appearance and personality torn away to reveal a man utterly consumed by lovesickness. Epel would have been the first one on her had he not been held back by Rook who reminded him playfully to respect his elders. The first-year had retorted back that it wasn’t fair for him to have to wait when he’d been pining the hardest and been the only one formally rejected by (Y/n). Still, he’d acquiesced to the matter, standing with crossed arms as he watched Vil run his hands over the girl, muttering a mix of criticisms and compliments as he went lower and lower. The entire time the young woman’s only contributions had been pleas for them to stop, for them to let her go, for them to act like nothing had ever happened. All these requests had been met with callous laughter and condescending platitudes. After Vil had completed his overview of (Y/n) he gestured to the other two men to come join him on the bed. Now instead of one set of roaming hands on her body, there were three: pinching, squeezing, petting, and stroking. It was all so overwhelming; one moment she was struggling to keep her legs closed so her pants couldn't be removed, the next she was naked as a newborn babe with her legs thrown over Rook’s shoulders as he ate her out. When she tried to protest again, Vil’s lips were pressed against hers as he shoved his tongue down her throat. As for her bust… well it seemed Epel seemed to be quite interested in that part of her if the fact he was suckling greedily on one nipple while pinching the other between his fingers. Why it’s a wonder she was able to resist cumming for so long with all the stimuli she was being barraged with. So when she lost it, she lost it hard. Moaning into Vil’s mouth arching up into Epel’s touch, and drenching Rook’s face with her juices. Yet the man had kept going, tongue fucking her ever though she was already overstimulated to give the other two men a chance to undress and jerk themselves off to full-hardness. (Y/n) was on the cusp of a second orgasm when Rook pulled back and Vil took his spot between her legs. She’d whimpered when Vil had pressed his cock against her dripping entrance but hadn’t been able to stop him from sinking into her with a soft growl. Nor had (Y/n) been able to stop Epel from prying her mouth open so he could stuff her throat with his dick. A few moments later she felt something prodding at her already stretched-out cunt as Rook eased his cock in beside the other blonde’s with a low groan. She would have tried to protest this move, had she been able to speak that is. Wasting no time, all three men began fucking her with reckless abandon. Every nerve in her body seemed to be on fire, and her eyes rolled back in her skull as she was fucked senseless. And their stamina, dear lord their stamina. The three must have taken some kind of recovering potion ahead of time in order to keep going when she was nothing more than a limp noodle from overstimulation from her fourth orgasm in rapid suggestion. (Y/n) was already half-unconscious when they’d all finally had their fill of her. Epel forced her to swallow his load as Rook and Vil pulled out of her to watch their cum drip out of her well-fucked cunt with rapt attention. Eventually (Y/n)’s wrists were released from their bindings and kisses were pressed against the skin that had been rubbed raw from her struggles. Someone, she wasn’t sure who used a damp towel to clean her up before she was helped under the covers and felt arms wrap around her body as the three males got comfortable beside her. (Y/n) wanted to try and stay awake so she could have the chance to escape, but she was truly too weary for that and fell asleep after only a few minutes of laying there. Which then of course brought her back to the now of this morning. The now, where she had a blonde hunter speaking sweet-nothings into her ear as the first-year beside her pressed his face more insistently into her bosom and the dormhead slumbered on totally unaware of the situation at hand. She let out a deep sigh, slightly displacing Epel with the moment so he lifted his head from her chest with a sleepy expression. He stared at her with big, innocent-looking eyes. If this had been the first time she’d seen such a face (Y/n) might have been inclined to stroke his cheek and coo. However, she now knew too well what horrors hide under the pretty exterior. “Heya (Y/n)” he said his words slurred as he let his face fall back into place in her cleavage with a soft yawn. “Bonjour Monsieur Crabapple” Rook said, lifting his hand from (Y/n)’s waist in order to ruffle Epel’s hair affectionately, even as the younger boy let out a whine of protest at the gesture. If she hadn’t been scared out of her mind, the young woman might have tried to shush them so they wouldn’t wake Vil up yet. Everytime she closed her eyes she saw his depraved expression in her mind and she wasn’t sure she had the willpower to deal with that sight yet. Too bad that choice wasn’t up to her, as the male in question let out a yawn and stretched his arms over his head before turning his head her way with one beautiful violet eye open to gaze at her. Whatever he saw, seemed to please the young man as his mouth curled into a smile as he leaned in to kiss her forehead. (Y/n) forced herself not to recoil at the kiss, despite how much she wanted to. Vil’s expression was so sickly sweet that it made her stomach tie itself up in anxious knots. “Morning my darling” Vil said, before pressing a second kiss to the girl’s forehead. The pet name only made her insides twist-up tighter. (Y/n) could feel the panic she’d been repressing since she woke up finally got to her. As her heart began to thump wildly and her body quivered like a leaf in the wind with fresh tears forming in the corners of her eyes. If she thought such a display wouldn't faze the boys she was wrong as it only put them all on high alarm and fussing over her. She could feel her grip on the waking world begin to fade as her vision blurred and she passed out amidst frantically shaking and worried words from the three males. (Y/n) would have to face reality sooner or later, but it didn’t have to be now. Now she could drift through her own personal dream world for a few more hours of peaceful, blissful ignorance before she would be forced to start adjusting to being the trophy-girlfriend to the trio of insatiable men who’d ruin her life otherwise… THE END

#Yandere Epel Felmier #Epel Felmier #Yandere Rook Hunt #Rook Hunt #Yandere Vil Schoenheit #Vil Schoenheit #Twisted Wonderland #Yandere Twisted Wonderland #TWST #Yandere TWST

281 notes · View notes

bangtanpromptsfics · 3 years

Text

anemone.

dialogue prompt #5: “We are not getting married!”

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: established relationship, angst

word count: 1,173

warnings: none

summary: you go for vacation at las vegas with your boyfriend and the boys and some haywire was well expected, but it's much crazier than you thought.

a/n: another angst oneshot!! I will start writing taehyung x reader soon. my friend chooses these prompts for me!! this is lowkey inspired from the sitcom, friends :)

masterlist

“We are not getting married!”, you groan, hands clutching your skull, “especially in Vegas and definitely not like this!”.

You knew shit was about to go down the moment Namjoon planned this trip, especially a full night at the casinos. Your wildest guess was one of them going naked in public, but it's worse. Jungkook proposed to you. Out of fucking thin air. In a bar. While he's drunk.

Anything but this.

“Baby why!?”, your boyfriend slurs. You snatch the glass of booze from him before he loses more of his mind.

“You are not in your right mind Jungkook”.

He ends up being a little grumpy at your answers. The boys were in their own worlds of being drunk. Jimin had passed out on the reception couch an hour ago. So basically there isn't anyone else to hammer sense into Jungkook’s brain. And you can't help but grow anxious.

Even though Jungkook is saying this out of a hazy mind, you can't help but wonder if he had been thinking about this.

To begin with, Jungkook wasn't your fiance. But you were indeed in a very serious relationship for the past five years. If Jungkook has to propose to you someday, you would be affirmative of course, but does he think about this when he is sober?

“You don't love me?”, he asks, trying to fill up his glass which you stop by placing a palm over it.

“Jungkook… I do love you. But please understand baby you are not in your right mind. We'll… we'll talk about this later okay? Let's just get back to hotel”. You take hold of his arm but he yanks it away.

“No! You said you don't want to marry me!”. His eyes are glistening. Does he think you wouldn't want to be his wife? Does he think you don't see a future with him? It scares you now. Of course the day at the altar when he stands there in a tux and vows to be your husband would be the best day of your life without doubt. But now you feel the more you oppress, the more insecure you are making him.

You had been anxious all these while. So you try to breathe before talking again.

“Let's go back and talk okay? ”, you say softly but you don't touch him because he is distancing from you.

“Thank God you guys are here— woah what's up with Kook?”, Namjoon barges in, the only slightly sober one left. Thank fuck.

“He had way too many shots. Joon will you help me get him back to our hotel room? ”

“Sure”.

Jungkook doesn't bat a lash at you the entire drive, and the same goes on at the hotel. He throws his jacket somewhere on the floor and plops straight into the bed.

“Kookie… are you mad? ”, you ask softly, standing at his end of bed. He doesn't answer again and turns around showing you his back.

So you nudge on his shoulder very lightly and that's when it hits you that he's crying.

“Kookie it's not what you think baby!” you rush, trying to touch him more, but he moves away.

After several attempts of trying to get his attention, you see him falling into slumber so you let him be. But now you sit with a very heavy chest. It takes several hours for you to fall asleep, and eventually you do.

Jungkook stirs, trying to get his throbbing head in control. Burying his head in pillows several times, he later realizes the space beside him is empty. And it's cold too, meaning you had been awake for a while.

When he sees you come into the room from the shower he smiles.

He definitely doesn't remember.

And now you don't know if you should bring this up or not.

“Fuck my eyes hurt so fucking much”, he groans, rubbing them aggressively before looking into the vanity mirror in front of the bed, “Shit, it's so swollen, was I crying last night?”.

You turn around, caught with your words. And he notices that your eyes are puffed too.

Fear in him grows as he gets out of bed immediately and approaches to cup your face, “Babe tell me what happened last night”, he demands. From the looks of it all he could comprehend he pulled some sick shit. The last thing he remembers is discussing about taking shots with Taehyung.

“Babe please tell me. If I had hurt you I'm so sorry. I swear I don't remember anything”.

“You… you proposed t-to me last night”, you say. Head low and shaky breath.

Jungkook freezes on spot, his hands coming down from your cheeks.

“And… and… what did you say? ”. He takes a few steps back because he doesn't know how to act. It was his mistake in the first place. But he fears something else.

“I said no”, you whisper. Fuck yesterday's incident was still hurting too much to be able to speak.

“I-I understand…”, he trails off.

“Baby it's not what you think! I said no because you were not in your right mind. Things like this are a big decision and I want you to be fully aware what you're doing. Please understand. I do see a future with you Jungkook. It's my dream I promise”. And with that you breakdown.

He is quick to wrap you inside his embrace. He feels so warm.

“I'm sorry I put you through it love. I'm never drinking again God”.

“And you said I don't love you”, you pout, finally looking up at him.

He wants to slap himself for saying bullshit. He is perfectly aware how strong you feel for him and never in million years he would question that. Good luck Jeon, you stoned yourself and went ahead and said it anyway.

He doesn't have a good apology for all this, so he kisses you instead. You gladly part lips for him, and he makes sure to give it to you just the way you like, slight sucking at the lips.

“I'm so sorry Y/n...I didn't mean a word of it”.

“It's alright”, you smile, finally feeling ease. You plant slow kisses on his mouth for a few minutes, stopping when Jungkook comes to say something.

“I-I just want to say Y/n, when such a day comes… I'll respect your decision… whatever it is”, he swallows a lump down.

Though he says it, he knows it'll break his heart if you said no. He had been deciding upon rings for the past months with Taehyung. He has it safe in the pocket of his tux inside the closet behind you. He is so prepared. It kills him to know he accidentally drained his own hardwork.

“Shut up Kook. Don't think a lot about it alright?”. You smile, so that he does too, “Forget about it and kiss me now”, you grab his collar, pulling him close. Warmth of his breath close to your forehead.

“Fuck I love you so much baby”.

Thank you so much for reading!! ♡

133 notes · View notes