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moni-logues · 7 months

Text

Across a Crowded Room

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Strangers-to-lovers, idolverse, smut

Word count: 10.7k

Summary: Dissatisfied and uncomfortable at a party where you don’t belong, in a country where you feel like you don’t belong, you see a man looking at you from across the room. Maybe he’s what you’ve been missing.

Content: alcohol consumption, fingering, oral (f. receiving), protected sex, multiple orgasms, I guess slight exhibitionism since it all happens up against a window lmao

A/N: Ok, so I 1000000% thought I had re-posted this here already?? but Lia has informed me that I have not and since I got a nice message about it on the old blog, I figured now's as good a time as any to repost!! The start of this fic is literally the first writing I had done for over a decade. I started writing even before I had a writing blog. Then the rest of it was written... last November? ish? idk. anyway, I read this myself the other day and it's alright! ETA: LOL, you can tell it's old because it's written in present tense LMAO

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You tug self-consciously at the hem of your dress; it’s a little too short for your liking, but Hanjae likes you in K-style clothes and, once you’re there, it’ll be fine. It’s always a little nerve-wracking the thought of going to a party where you hardly know anyone, but it always turns out fine. Fun, even. Positive thinking. You sigh and inhale deeply before leaving your apartment and heading down to the car he’s sent for you.

When you first met, you were both taken with each other. He was intrigued by your foreignness and enchanted by your clumsy negotiations in a foreign culture; you were reassured by his confidence and excited by the access he had to hitherto hidden worlds of luxury and indulgence. He wasn’t rolling with Elon Musk or anything (and you’d have had nothing to do with him if he were), but he lived with an ease and security that you yearned for. Which, you suppose, is why you’re still letting him parade you around at parties like this.

It was fun at first. You liked the attention – who wouldn’t? Instead of feeling freakish and out of place, you felt interesting and cherished for your differences. You felt like they were laughing with you when you told funny, embarrassing stories of when you’d got it wrong, or how you do things back home. It felt like people were fascinated by you and you were warmed by their curiosity. You didn’t mind when they reached out to touch your tattoos or asked personal questions, because they didn’t mean any harm. Hanjae gave you a social life that you hadn’t quite managed to create for yourself in this new place and got you out of your apartment, out of your comfort zone, and you clung to that.

Recently, though, you’ve been feeling different. When you show up to parties with him and see his friends you’ve met before, they’re surprised you’re still around. They joke to your face that they would’ve expected Hanjae to have moved on by now. They ask what his parents think (but you have never been introduced to them). They’re not so charmed by you anymore. These friends barely spare you a second thought once they’ve registered their surprise and the attentions of new friends aren’t as welcome as they once were. You started feeling uncomfortable with the way Hanjae paraded you around a couple of weeks ago and now, you’re frankly sick to your stomach. When people reach out to touch you, you flinch away; you don’t tell funny, embarrassing stories because you feel like you’re being laughed at; you stay quiet, for the most part, because your Korean is still not very good and, when they correct you or laugh at your mistakes, you don’t feel like they’re doing it kindly. Standing, mute, next to Hanjae while he laughs and drinks makes you feel like an object, a trophy, an oddity. If Hanjae were a Victorian-era Englishman travelling to the ends of the Earth to ransack a foreign place and bring home stolen goods, you were the buried necklace of an Aztec noblewoman he would give to the eligible girl in the manor house whose hand he is trying to win. He is showing you off because other people are impressed, but you no longer get the feeling that he is.

You hand over your phone and lip balm to Hanjae when you meet him outside the venue; this became a habit early on, so you wouldn’t have to hold a bag and he was happy to keep them in his pockets. Now, it feels a little bit like handing over your freedom.

“Cheer up!” he says as you lean back in your seat. “This’ll be fun, won’t it?” He smiles at you and tucks your hair behind your ear. He’s not a bad guy. He really isn’t. You’re not entirely sure if he even realises what he’s doing with you, if he knows that he doesn’t really like you but the idea of you, if he knows that there’s no future with you, if he’s realised that this relationship is rapidly approaching its expiry date. He’s been extremely good to you and you owe it to him to try. However much you want it to end, you don’t want it to end badly and you don’t want to hurt him; there’s no need for that.

You walk into the party amongst a sea of black suits. You scan the crowd, looking for other women you can compare your outfit to. A terrible thing to do, you know, but your insecurity needs reassurance that you’re dressed appropriately for this event. Hanjae is already leading you over to his friends, two of whom have brought their girlfriends, who are dressed in outfits similar to yours, so that’s something at least. You greet them brightly and Hanjae hands you a drink before launching into a conversation you can’t quite follow. That’s the other thing about these parties; they’re so loud, even if everyone were speaking English, you’re not sure you’d be able to hear them properly, so you hardly stand a chance in Korean. You’ve improved dramatically and can get by in your day-to-day life, but you don’t feel like you’re good enough yet to have a proper conversation, to really talk to anyone. It’s quite a lonely feeling and another reason you’ve spent so much time with Hanjae: he speaks fluent English; although he uses it less and less often these days and he gets more impatient when you need things repeating. You suppose it must be difficult for him, too, having to use a second language so much.

You gaze around the room, looking at nothing in particular. You sip your drink and wonder what everyone else is thinking about. You barely notice the looks you get anymore – most of them are meaningless anyway and people pass their eyes over you before turning back to their friends – but out of the corner of your eye, you see someone looking at you. You don’t recognise him, but you’ve never been very good with faces and the lighting is weird here. You raise your glass and nod slightly; even if you don’t know him, it’s nice to be polite. He looks a little flustered that you’ve noticed and quickly looks away, and then back again and raises his glass a little before turning and walking away. You smile, what a cutie.

Your glass is empty and your feet hurt from standing still for so long, so you tell Hanjae you’re going to get another drink. He asks you to get him a whiskey, so you traipse to the bar and order. You hand the drink to Hanjae without a word and wander off; there must be somewhere to sit in this place.

The main room is cavernous and you’re worried there will be no open doors to anywhere else. There is a small group of tables in one corner, but they are all already occupied. You look around as you walk, and suddenly bump into someone.

“Oh, so-“, you start to say, but you realise it isn’t someone; it is a mirror. The whole back wall is mirrored. For a moment, you are completely disoriented and slightly embarrassed, but as you edge along the mirror, you realise that the wall doesn’t reach the other side and the room continues beyond it. As you cross behind the mirror, the din of music and voices is subdued significantly. There’s another partial wall from the other side as though the room is zig-zagging. You’re wary of going too far, but the increasing quiet is soothing. You turn another corner and there’s a bench opposite a large staircase. You immediately sit down along its length and lift your feet. You wonder what the time is and how much more of it you’ll have to kill before you can go home. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, reminding yourself that Hanjae is a good man and you are very fortunate and suffering from very glamorous problems. A few months ago, you’d have given an arm and a leg to be at a party like this. Be careful what you wish for, you think to yourself.

As you fidget on the bench, you realise you are not alone. There is a man coming down the stairs. You take your feet off the bench and try to look like you’re doing something (what? What could you be doing? There is absolutely nothing to occupy you here!); you settle for just looking awkward. You nod your head and raise a hand as he reaches the bottom.

“Are you ok?” he asks. His hesitance reminds you of someone and you realise with a flash that he is the man who was looking at you earlier.

You clear your throat.

“네. 괜찮아요. 감사합니다,” you answer falteringly, embarrassed at having been caught hiding out. You rise to leave.

“오, 정말요? ……………?”

You don’t understand the second half of what he said and you curse yourself for having answered in Korean; if you’d just spoken English and pretended you didn’t know any Korean at all, this would’ve been much simpler!

“Sorry, I didn’t understand,” you tell him. “갈게요.”

“No, wait,” he cries, with more force than he intended. “You don’t have to leave.” He gestures to the bench. “I was also looking for somewhere quiet.”

He speaks shyly and you assume he doesn’t have much practice at speaking English and don’t have the energy for locking you both into a conversation where neither of you can quite understand the other. On the other hand, it would feel rude to just walk away now. You stand, not leaving but not quite staying, both of you trapped in an awkward moment that seems to last forever.

“You can leave if you want,” he says, finally. “I am going to stay.” He sits on the bottom step and takes a sip from his drink. “It’s ok, we don’t have to talk- but I can speak English a little bit if you want.”

You slowly return to the bench and sit down. You feel like you should say something, but your mind is blank. It’s like you’ve never had a conversation before in your life; what do people say? Does he even want you to say something? Why was he staring at you earlier? In the same way that everyone else always does or was there a specific reason? You feel your hands start to sweat and you inwardly roll your eyes at yourself and tell yourself to get a grip, literally nothing is happening.

He is looking out of the window and you are staring into the corner on the opposite side; you each take glances at one another, praying the other doesn’t notice. You can still hear the music from the party, quiet in the background, and you wonder if Hanjae has noticed your absence yet; you expect not. You glance at the man opposite you and catch his eye. You both chuckle awkwardly.

“I’m ________,” you say.

“Jungkook,” he answers.

“It’s nice to meet you, Jungkook.”

“I saw you earlier; I didn’t think we’d met before.”

“No, I’m not really invited to these things,” you explain. “I just tag along with my b-,“ you stop, the word ‘boyfriend’ weighing heavily on your tongue.

“Who’s your boyfriend?”

Dammit.

“Uh, Kim Hanjae?”

“Ah… Don’t know him.”

“He’s…” How on earth did you get to this subject so quickly? Do you really want to talk about Hanjae to this random man? More to the point, does this random man want to hear about your boyfriend and how you actually don’t want him to be your boyfriend anymore? Doubtful. “He’s nice,” you finish, lamely.

“Just don’t like parties?”

Part of you wishes you had just left when you had the chance. Then you realise how ridiculously you’re behaving; hating the party because no one will talk to you and, now, as soon as someone starts, you want to leave. ‘Get a grip, girl,’ you say to yourself.

“I like parties,” you answer, “but it’s-… I’m-… This-…” You pause as you try to work out how to give an honest answer that isn’t simultaneously dumping all your crap onto him. “These are all his friends; I don’t really know anyone here.”

He nods.

“I have a different problem: everyone knows me and wants to talk to me all the time.” He laughs. “I don’t like big parties. They’re… so much… too much.”

You nod. The two of you lapse into silence again, but it’s more comfortable this time. You’ve broken the ice a little. He seems nice and you feel a pang of sympathy for him: to be a big deal at parties like this sounds exhausting, especially if you don’t even like parties to start with. No wonder he’s hiding out with you.

“It’s hard for me to talk to people at these things,” you tell him. “My Korean isn’t very good and Hanjae doesn’t like speaking English when we’re with his friends because some of them don’t speak it.”

“I think your Korean sounds good.”

You laugh; that was a sweet thing to say given that he’s heard you say all of three words.

“It’s ok, but we couldn’t have this conversation in Korean. Sorry.” You smile weakly and feel pathetic; you knew it would be a process, moving to a new country and learning the language as you go, but you weren’t prepared for how embarrassed and ashamed you would feel all the time about your failings.

“Don’t be sorry!” He grins at you. “I can try my English! But, actually, it is not very good either. Sorry.”

You laugh again. Koreans and their modesty; his English sounds just fine from where you’re sitting.

“Did you move here recently?” he asks.

“About four months ago,” you answer. “I was… looking for something new, I guess. I don’t know… I needed new horizons, new experiences.”

“And how do you think about it now you’re here?”

You wonder if he knows what a loaded question that is. You exhale with a huff. Where to begin?

“It’s been harder than I thought it would be,” you tell him. “I feel very… different. Being looked at so much is not something I was used to… I think Hanjae likes it, but it’s awkward for me. I feel like…”

“An object.”

Your eyes meet and your chest is flooded with the warmth of familiarity. He’ll understand, won’t he?

“When we met,” you start, looking away self-consciously, “he was charmed by my foreignness, y’know? And he liked how different I looked and found it cute when I made mistakes in Korean and didn’t know things. It gave him clout, y’know? Dating a foreigner? I was spoilt by it, the attention; I thought it was for me and when he bought me dresses and took me to parties to show me off, I thought it was because I was special, not just because I was foreign. I loved it at the start.

“I think the appeal is wearing off, though,” you continue, stealing a quick glance to gauge his reaction. He’s looking at you patiently, intently, concentrating, probably, on understanding what you’re saying. “He gets annoyed sometimes now when I don’t know things and-“

You tell him everything. Once you start, you find you can’t stop. You don’t know whether to be angry or sad about it, so you vacillate between the two. Jungkook listens, never interrupts; he drinks and nods and keeps looking at you with those huge brown eyes.

“I know it’s over,” you say, resolute. “I just-” you realise it as you say it, “I’m scared that I won’t have anything if I don’t have him.”

He looks at you thoughtfully for a moment.

“But you met him in Korea, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So, you still have the person who moved all the way here to start a new life; that seems like a lot to me.”

For a split second, you don’t know whether to burst into tears or fling your arms around him and give him a kiss. ‘Is he looking at me,’ you wonder ‘or staring into my soul?’. You feel seen, seen for the first time in months. You decide then and there that you would walk on hot coals for this man; he’s got you whether he wants you or not. His kindness streams out from him like rays of the sun from behind clouds. Such a bright, young thing, hiding in the dark.

“What about you?” You ask. “You’re hiding back here, too.”

“Ah.” He finishes his drink and places the glass next to him on the step. “I prefer quiet places. I like to keep things small and…-”

“Intimate?”

You blush furiously as he looks at you. That isn’t what you meant and you’re not sure how he’s taken it.

“Yeah, intimate. Big crowds are not my thing.”

“Not when they forget that you’re a person, first.”

He nods.

You stand and move to look out of the window, closer to him. He rises, too, and stands next to you. Your arm is a hair’s breadth from him; you daren’t move.

“Do you like the view?” he asks.

“Actually, I don’t really like a cityscape. I prefer country views.”

“What are the views like where you’re from?”

No one has asked you about home like that. They ask for funny differences between here and there or ask you to debunk or confirm stereotypes, but no one has really cared what you actually think. You smile, picturing in your mind’s eye cloudy, wind-swept beaches, rolling hills, pier arcades, church spires and so much green. You tell him everything. You turn your back to Seoul and, leaning against the glass, describe the house you grew up in and where your grandparents used to live; you describe the places you took holidays when you were a kid and the specific smell of the sea that isn’t the same anywhere else in the world. He’s been to your home country before, but he hasn’t been to your hometown; he asks questions and shows interest and you realise how starving you’ve been. Starved of this sort of attention – focused, interested, penetrating. You’ve had a taste and you want more and more.

You ask him about Seoul; did he grow up here? No, he tells you about Busan in the South. He speaks slowly and thoughtfully about his childhood and his dreams and moving here at such a young age, growing up so far from everything he’s ever known. He’s achieved more than he ever thought was even possible, more than he had ever dreamed, he explains; sometimes he still can’t believe it’s real.

While he talks, you study his face. He’s happy now, but you feel for the scared, little boy thrust into the industry machine before he even knew who he was. Now’s not the time, you know that, but you want to gently crack him open like a soft-boiled egg. Such depth in his eyes, so much soul. You resist the urge many times to put your hand on his arm, hold his hand for a second, reach out and physically touch him somehow. You feel connected to him in such a way that you need it to be physical for a moment, to close the circle, to just… touch.

You’re still standing by the window, deep in conversation, when a man appears from behind the wall and beckons to Jungkook. They talk quickly and Jungkook returns.

“I’m going to get a drink.”

Your heart falls.

“Do you want one?”

A wash of relief. You shrug, sure.

“Ok, wait here. I won’t be long.”

He leaves and you turn back to the window, pressing your forehead against the cool glass. You wonder what time it is, where is Hanjae, what’s he doing, is he even still here, has he noticed you’re missing, is Jungkook actually coming back? You take some deep breaths.

With no watch, no phone, and no clock in this dark, little hideaway, you have no way to tell how long Jungkook has been. One minute? Could be ten. You wonder if he’ll make it back to you; after all, he was hiding back here to avoid being grasped in the clutches of all the many, many people out there. Maybe he’s been waylaid. He’s got stuck with a chatterbox who won’t be quiet; he’s got trapped into a business conversation that he can’t leave. Maye he’s seen some friends and is having fun out there.

You sigh, knowing that if he doesn’t come back soon, you’ll have to go out there, too. Hanjae will be missing you, you tell yourself; it’s rude to abandon him completely when he’s the reason you’re even here in the first place. You take a deep, resolute breath and stand, smoothing out your dress. You bump into Jungkook as you round the corner.

“Oh,” he says as he sees you. “Are you going?”

He hands you a drink and you take it, the cold glass sending goosebumps up your arm.

“Uh, well, no, well yes, I was but I didn’t know if you were coming back.” You hope you didn’t sound accusatory.

“I’m sorry, it is hard to avoid people out there,” he replies, continuing around the corner and sitting on the bench. You follow him and he places a hand on the bench, indicating you should join. You feel bad; he shouldn’t have to apologise. You sit next to him on the bench and sip your drink.

“You can go back out there, if you want, you know; you don’t have to stay here with me,” you tell him. His eyes widen and he shakes his head.

“No, thank you!” he laughs. “That was enough. Maybe I will show my face again a bit later.”

“Good.” You spoke without thinking and are just about to regret it when he smiles at you.

“Yeah. Good.”

You place a hand down on the bench and he reaches out a finger to touch your bracelet. When you packed your whole life into one suitcase, a lot of brutal cuts had to be made and there are so many parts of your heart at home, abandoned by you, but not this one. It’s a tiny gold chain, with a tiny gold J attached.

“That’s not the letter of your name,” Jungkook says, still studying your bracelet.

“No… No, it’s from my best friend’s name,” you explain. “She gave this to me a long time ago; I like to wear it when I feel like I need her, to feel like I’ve got a little bit of her with me.” You rub your wrist, self-consciously, and wonder what she’s up to right now.

“Does it help?”

“No, not really.” You laugh, a little sad. “It reminds me that there are people in the world who love me, which is nice, but it also reminds me that those people are thousands of miles away.”

“All of them?” His penetrating eyes beam at you and you feel like no matter what answer you give, it’ll be the wrong one. You shrug.

“I thought maybe you told me a fake name before,” he admits, grinning sheepishly.

“Oh, I don’t think that would’ve ever occurred to me! Why, do you do that?”

He nods. He smiles but it’s sad, the mirth not reaching his eyes.

“Sometimes. But I wouldn’t get away with it so easily if I wore one of those, right?”

You unclasp the bracelet’s fastening and it slips off your wrist and, taking an end in each hand, hold it out to him. He looks uncertainly at you and you nod. He offers his wrist and you fix the chain in place.

“There’s no getting away from who you really are,” you tell him, knowing full well that it doesn’t matter where you go, ’cause there you’ll always be. He grins. “For tonight.”

“For tonight, I can be your best friend?”

You laugh and nod, thinking, ‘god, can he be my best friend forever?’.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, gently moving the bracelet around his wrist; you wonder what he’s thinking and take a sip of your drink.

A few minutes pass in a comfortable silence until Jungkook speaks again.

“I don’t have anything to give you.”

“What?”

“In return.” He indicates the bracelet. “I don’t have anything I can give you.” He takes off a ring and considers it. “I think they will all be too big.” He holds it out and you offer up your hand; he slips it onto your index finger and you lift your hand up, swirling the ring around so that it very nearly flies off the tip.

“Too big,” you confirm with a grin.

He pulls his sleeve up to reveal a watch and you notice the tattoos running underneath.

“I think this will not go with your dress, right?”

You nod absently, trying to make out what you’re looking at. You take the edge of his sleeve and lift it a little higher to get a better look and then become aware of what you’re doing and drop it, apologising instantly.

“That’s ok,” he says and he undoes the cuff, rolling the sleeve up to his elbow. He turns his arm slowly so you can get a good look (or as good a look as you can manage in the dark light). You nod approvingly.

“That’s why I was looking at you earlier,” he says, a little embarrassed. “I was trying to look at your tattoo.”

Well, that explains the intensity of his focus earlier. You turn so that he can see. You feel, for a second, his hand above your skin and your stomach clenches, praying he won’t touch you like everyone else does: ‘just please don’t let him touch me; please, please don’t let him touch me’. But the touch never comes. You sense his hand moving across your back and down your arm and you twist your head to see his finger, an inch above the skin, tracing the lines of your tattoo. You breathe a sigh of relief.

“What do you think?” You ask, turning your body back towards him.

“They’re very beautiful.” He looks you straight in the eyes as he answers and you’re struck again by the feeling of being seen and not merely looked at. Neither of you looks away this time. You hold the moment between yourselves, pausing time just for a second. You break the connection and look down, tracing a finger over your bracelet on his wrist. You know it’s only a coincidence that they share the same initial – it’s not exactly uncommon – but something about it feels right.

“Do you want it back?” he asks.

No, you don’t. Not yet. You feel like he’s wearing a part of you while he’s wearing it; he has accepted a part of you as a part of himself. You feel warm in the glow of that tiny, tremulous thread between you. You think, and the thought shocks you, that you would be alright he kept it forever. It’s immensely precious to you, so much so that you brought it with you thousands of miles away into your new life, but, somehow, Jungkook’s wearing it brings more to you, more comfort, more confidence, more certainty in the knowledge that there are people in the world that love you. Love is not diminished when given away, it is doubled. You suddenly wish that you did have something of his you could wear, if only for tonight.

The silence lapses and you talk, nursing your drinks, knowing that one of you will have to leave if either of you needs another. You forget the passing of time and everything outside of this little bubble. It’s the most fun you’ve had at a party for ages.

The man who appeared earlier returns and, once again, beckons to Jungkook. Jungkook stands and goes over to him and they, once again, talk quietly. Jungkook returns and the man remains.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” Jungkook asks and you feel shattered all of a sudden. You had forgotten all about Hanjae, truth be told, and you are overwhelmed with guilt and shame that you’ve spent the whole night away from him, talking to another man. He isn’t my boyfriend, that’s what you wanted to say: he’s definitely not my boyfriend, or even if he is, I don’t want him to be and he won’t be for much longer! Why is Jungkook asking? Whatever bubble you were in has been popped from the inside. A part of you feels heartbroken and a part of you feels betrayed. It was just you and Jungkook; there’s no need to bring anyone else into this.

“Oh, uh, I don’t know,” you stutter in response. “Probably… somewhere…”. You have no idea where he will be; you assume that he is still here (you hope he is still here because he still has your phone), but who can say for sure?

“Do you want to leave with me?” Jungkook asks and you are stunned into momentary silence.

“What?”

“Do you want to leave with me?” he repeats. “We don’t have to go anywhere; I can take you home if you want, but would you like to leave?”

You feel like that is too many mixed messages to cope with right now so you nod dumbly and stand.

“Hanjae,” you say abruptly as your brain sputters back into gear. “He has my phone and my things.”

“Ok, shall I meet you outside? I’ll wait.”

“I’ll be quick.”

Breathless, you walk as quickly as you can back into the cavernous room, the noise building to a roar, the throng of people overwhelming. You stand on tiptoes and crane your neck, looking for anyone you recognise, cursing the organisers for the dim lighting and all men for their interminably boring black suits which make none of them stand out. You notice movement in your peripheral vision and turn to see a waving arm, beckoning you. It’s not Hanjae; it’s one of his friends.

“Where have you been?” they exclaim as you approach. “Han was looking everywhere for you; thought you must’ve disappeared! Anyway, he had to leave earlier – some work emergency – so he told me to give you these if I saw you.” He hands over your phone, lip balm, and a lipstick you’re sure isn’t yours. “He told you you can order a car if you like, but he won’t be back so you’ll have to get home on your own.”

You see that his friends clearly have no idea of entertaining you or keeping you company for the rest of the evening, which is just as well, given you were about to leave with someone else.

As you make your way outside, you look at the lipstick you were given. You try to think what might constitute a ‘work emergency’ on a Friday night; it’s not like the guy’s a doctor or fire fighter! You try not to let suspicion creep in, because Hanjae has never given you any reason to doubt his fidelity before, but then, you’ve also never considered it, because you’ve never really considered the two of you to be in an actual relationship. Maybe he hadn’t either. And if that’s the case, then there’s no need to be hurt or angered by it. But there is a niggle. There’s something crawling, digging up, trying to plant its seed in your heart. You decide if it’s going to happen at all, it will have to be tonight. As you approach the doorway, you stand to one side and dial Hanjae’s number.

“여보세요?” he answers just as you were about to give up.

“Hi, it’s me.”

“Oh. Where are you?”

“I’m still at the party.”

“Oh. Where did you go? I tried to look for you earlier; I’m not there anymore. I’ve had to come to the office.”

“Yeah, I know; I found Seongyoung and he gave me my phone.”

“Right yeah, yeah.” He sounds distracted.

“So, are you in the office now?” you ask.

“Yeah, but I can’t see you; there’s been a huge mistake and it’s going to take a long time to fix.”

“Please; it’ll be quick. I promise.”

He sighs heavily but agrees. You hang up the phone with a small weight sitting in your stomach.

You turn back to the entrance and walk out, scanning for Jungkook. There are a few dark cars sitting in front of you but you have no idea if any one of them belongs to him. You hesitate, not sure where to turn, standing awkwardly in front of drivers and security officers. A door on one of the cars opens and a hand waves; you approach and Jungkook beams up at you from inside.

“Quick!” He reaches out to grab your hand and pull you in. He speaks quickly to the driver in Korean and turns back to you. “Are you alright?”

“Um, actually, can we go somewhere?”

“Where do you want to go?”

“I… have to do something. It won’t take long, please.”

“Of course, that’s ok. Where do you want to go?”

You give him the address of Hanjae’s office building and he relays it to the driver. You sit, slightly on edge, compulsively flicking the edge of your phone case off and on, off and on. The building isn’t far and you sit in silence while Jungkook hums along to the radio. You are barely even aware of what song is playing. The driver slows and you unbuckle your seatbelt.

“Just give me like, five minutes. I’ll be quick,” you say as you open the car door.

“It’s ok; you can take as long as you like. I will wait.”

You wonder what Jungkook thinks you are doing, where he thinks you are. You wonder if he knows. Part of you assumes he does, since he seems to intuitively understand so much about you. You enter the building and approach the reception desk. The woman behind it barely looks up as she opens the barrier to let you in. You’re not sure if she recognises you from times you’ve been here before or just does not care about her job. If you had to man a reception desk in an almost entirely empty building on a Friday night, you probably wouldn’t care much either. As you call a thank you to her and walk past, the lipstick suddenly flashes into your mind. Could it be hers? You suppose it could be. It could be anyone’s. It might not have anything to do with Hanjae at all. Maybe Seongyoung handed you his girlfriend’s lipstick by mistake. Maybe not. It won’t matter soon.

You reach Hanjae’s floor and can see him in his glass-walled office: jacket and tie off, sleeves rolled up, standing and on the phone. You walk with purpose to his door and wave. He gestures for you to come in, so you stand inside the door and wait for his conversation to end.

“What’s up?” he asks, putting his phone on his desk.

“I think we need to have a conversation,” you begin, your resolve holding firm for now.

“Right now? I really don’t have time-“

“I said I’d be quick and I meant it.” If you aren’t quick, you’re not sure you’ll be able to go through with it.

“Ok then, shoot.”

You hadn’t actually planned what you were going to say. None of the words sounded right; you wanted to be clear and direct but kind at the same time; is it even possible to tell someone kindly that you don’t want them to be in your life anymore? You clench and unclench your fist and decide to rip the plaster straight off.

“I don’t think we should see each other anymore. I don’t think we should be together. I think we should end things. This is over.” The words tumble out without your being able to stop them. Hanjae’s eyebrows raise and he looks surprised.

“Oh.”

He looks a little dumb-founded but you had expected him to say more and aren’t sure what to do now. You open and close your mouth like a goldfish, waiting for something else to happen. You haven’t actually broken up with anyone before so you’re not sure how this usually goes.

“Can I ask why?”

“We’re not a good fit.” You hope that this will suffice but you know it won’t satisfy him.

“What does that mean? Don’t we have fun together? Don’t we like each other?” Ay, there’s the rub.

“Actually, I don’t really think you do, no.” You try to explain to him all the things you’ve been feeling recently; you try not to blame him for any of it because you don’t want this to turn into an argument; you tread as carefully as you can but you’re so desperate for this to be over now it’s started that you can’t stop your mouth running on and on.

“You’ve given me so much and I’m so grateful to you for that and I really value all the time we have spent together and I do think you’re a nice person and I don’t want to hurt you but… well, this is how I feel.” You feel a little breathless as you come to a stop. Hanjae doesn’t say anything for a while and you can’t read his face. You don’t know what he’s thinking and the longer the silence lasts, the sicker and sicker you feel.

“I’m sorry that you feel that my attention has been so unwelcome,” he finally answers, speaking slowly and coldly. “I don’t really know what else I could have done to show you that I value you: I buy you things, take you places, I introduced you to all of my friends, I show you off; is that not loving? You say you don’t even think I like you, but if that’s true, why would I bother to see you? Why would I waste my time with you if I didn’t? I hadn’t, until now, considered our time together a waste, but it seems as though my efforts have been just that. You’ve been feeling this way for weeks, have you? Well, why are you here, then? Why did you come tonight at all if all of my friends ignore you and all of my attention is so unwanted? If the time we spend together makes you feel so awful, why have you waited this long to say something? You disappeared very early this evening; I tried looking for you everywhere. You said you were getting a drink and then I didn’t see you again. Perhaps it’s not that my attention is unwanted but that you’ve found someone else whose attention you prefer? Were you just putting up with me for long enough to find a higher roller, someone richer, or more famous perhaps? Am I a step on your ladder to the top? You have never, until tonight, given me a reason not to trust you, but you have to admit that this is rather out of the blue and your behaviour at the party was… not very polite. You abandoned me-“

You scoff at that, unable to stop yourself. A bead of sweat rolls down your back. Hanjae raises his eyebrows and waits for you to explain yourself. You’ve no idea how. You say nothing. You’re the first to break eye contact and you look at the ground, then the window, the desk, anywhere but Hanjae’s face.

“Fine,” he says. “Have it your way. What a horrible boyfriend I was to you, to treat you to presents and dinners and parties, to be so impressed by you that I want to show you off to everyone I know, to speak English with you and help you with Korean, to help you get settled in, to give you a social life, to show you what Seoul has to offer, what I have to offer, to never treat you like-“

“A person. You didn’t treat me like a person, Hanjae. I’m not a prize to show off; I’m a person first, not an object.” Your heart is hammering in your chest and you can feel tears pricking in your eyes. How can you get him to understand?

“Oh, I objectify you?” It is his turn to scoff. “And yet I am the one who has been used.”

You don’t know what to say to that.

“No, I- it’s- we- I-“

“Whatever, you can leave now.” He turns his back on you and picks up his phone again. He turns around with the phone to his ear and nods at the door, shooing you away. You turn around and leave the office on trembling legs. As soon as you step into the lift to go back down, the tears come. You’re not even sure why you’re crying; you wanted this after all. It was just horrible. You feel sticky with sweat all over, and shaky with the stress of it. You know that Hanjae isn’t right, saying those things about you, and he was lashing out defensively, but it hurt all the same. Or maybe he is a little bit right. You said yourself that he’s given you so much, access to things and people and places you wouldn’t have had otherwise; you said yourself that you enjoyed that. Maybe you are in the wrong, at least a little bit. You both are, you suppose. You exit the lift and walk briskly out of the office, not turning to look at the receptionist on your way out in case she sees you crying. You step out of the door and hide behind a pillar, catching your breath, drying your tears and trying to put on a happy face. Leaning against the cold stone of the wall, you close your eyes and take a deep breath.

“____?”

Shit. Jungkook is right there in front of you, looking concerned.

“Are you ok? What happened?”

You shake your head and hold up your hands.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” You stand up straight and give yourself a body shake. “Honestly, it’s fine.”

“Do you want me to take you home?”

You can’t think of much worse than going home to your poky apartment to spend the rest of your night miserable and alone.

“No… Can we, can we get a drink? Do you want to get a drink?”

Jungkook grimaces slightly. “Ah, that’s kind of difficult for me. I can’t really just go to a bar on a Friday night, y’know?”

Your heart sinks; of course he doesn’t want to go to a bar with you.

“We could have a drink at my house, if you want?” he offers.

Your heart rises. God, yes, please.

You drive back to Jungkook’s apartment in silence. The presence of the driver makes you feel somehow inhibited, self-conscious. You feel conspicuous, even though you’re sure the driver couldn’t care less about who you are or what you’re doing there. He’s just doing his job. You, nevertheless, don’t want to say anything yet, not until you’re alone with Jungkook. He’s scrolling on his phone, and you take the opportunity to study him more closely. His face changes with the changing light: suddenly brightly lit as you stop at traffic lights under a lamppost, then hidden in shadows. He has a kind face, open and bright, deep, soft eyes… You wanted to reach out a finger to trace his profile, the line of his lips, study him as if you were about to embark upon a masterpiece of him. Not that you would be able to capture his spirit if you tried. There’s a light in his eyes that seems to lie so deeply within them but shine so close to the surface.

You can’t work out what you’re feeling – too much, honestly. You need a minute to step back, step out of yourself – out of your life – to sort through everything that had happened. You feel a little as though you have accidentally stepped on a travelator and things are moving faster than you can keep up with. You wonder if you’ll regret any of this in the morning, if sleep will clear your mind and show your actions up as mistakes. You hope not. You think not. You catch the glint of your bracelet, still around Jungkook’s wrist and you nod to yourself. No, this – if this alone – is not a mistake.

When you arrive at Jungkook’s building, he shows you in and your mouth gapes. This was much bigger than Hanjae’s place. Wow. Just how famous was this guy? You are reminded forcefully of how little you actually know about him, whatever your feelings might be saying.

“What would you like to drink?” he asks, crouching in front of a cabinet. He opens the door to reveal all manner of spirits and liquors.

“Oh, anything,” you answer, without thinking. He laughs and you’re embarrassed by your answer but making another decision at this point feels impossible. You feel like a swan, calm on top, but flailing wildly underneath. You begin to think that maybe you should have let Jungkook take you home, so you could’ve gone to bed, or stared out of the window blankly until the sun rose. He’s too stimulating. Questions constantly rise to the surface of your mind like bubbles in boiling water: what’s his family like? What’s his favourite film? What’s his favourite food? Is he single? What’s he thinking? What does he want out of life? He’s already achieved his career dream so what’s his next dream?

He hands you a glass and you take a sip without even looking. It’s strong, good. You follow Jungkook to the sofa and flop onto it, thankful to be sitting comfortably. He asks if the drink is ok and you just nod and take another sip. You’re torn with conflicting desires: to stare at him endlessly, to fall into his chest and listen to his heartbeat, to tell him everything, to listen to him tell you everything, to kiss him, to never kiss him, to be his best friend, to fall in love with him, to fall in love with him and love him from afar from the rest of your life. It’s exquisite, the confusion, the keenness of your muddled feelings. You wonder briefly if you are just drunk but shake the thought from your head: you haven’t had that much to drink.

You drink in silence for a while and when you’ve finished, you stand. Placing your glass on the coffee table, you wander over to the bookcase, full of not books but DVDs and figurines. You scan the titles, your eyes not really seeing. They linger on a small figurine of a tiger at the edge of a shelf. You pick it up.

“Year of the tiger?” you ask, brandishing the figure at him.

“It is.” He stands and comes closer to you, taking the tiger in his hand.

“This is me,” you tell him. 24 years old, you were born two tigers ago. You take the figure back and wiggle it in his face. He laughs.

“I’m an ox,” he says, kneeling down. He opens the door of a little cabinet and reveals figurines for each of the zodiac animals. You laugh picking them up and inspecting them. He takes the ox from the cupboard and the tiger from your hand and puts them both back on the bookshelf. Feeling silly, you move the tiger and make a sound that’s neither quite a roar nor a meow as though the tiger is talking to the ox. Jungkook laughs and responds in kind, lowing deeply as he turns the ox towards the tiger. This is the sort of nonsense you need to lift you from the deep water of your confused feelings.

You move to the window as Jungkook refills your glass. It’s probably a good view that he probably paid a lot of money for but you can’t be enamoured with so many lights and so much modern architecture. You can just barely make out the dark shape of the mountains beyond and you smile; that’s more like it. Jungkook joins you at the window. You talk quietly; you don’t want to tell him that you broke up with Hanjae, because it implies something that you don’t really want to imply, but it comes out in the course of conversation and you actually feel relieved. You don’t know what Jungkook feels about it, if anything, but he seems pleased for you. You feel like everything is so fragile, delicate, precarious. You stay talking at the window for what feels like hours (maybe it is) because you feel that to move will be to ruin the moment somehow, force a shift in the atmosphere that you don’t want.

Your eyes settle on the gold chain at his wrist and your fingers reach out for it, toying with it. Jungkook’s hand moves, into yours, his fingers dancing on your palm. You flick your eyes back to his and he’s smiling at you, shy and sweet. You let him take your hand and suddenly it’s a handshake and you’re snorting, laughing, leaning towards each other as your shoulders shake. You lean your head on his shoulder as your breath comes back and Jungkook moves his hand to waist, pulls you closer to him.

He’s still smiling when you lift your head to look at him and you’re staring back at him, wide-eyed and unsure. He pulls you closer still, his arm snaking around your waist and he kisses you without hesitation. His lips are soft but he isn’t; he’s sure and confident and he brings his thumb to your chin to gently press down, gently open your mouth and let him inside. You’re responding before you’ve had the opportunity to think. Your hands grab at the collar of his shirt and you move against him, a leg between his legs, his bottom lip between your teeth. You’re dizzied and light-headed, grateful to the cool glass at your back and Jungkook’s arms secure around you.

When he pulls back, with apparent effort, he rests his forehead on yours, nudges your nose with his and looks at you from under his thick, dark lashes.

“Honestly, I’ve wanted to do that all night,” he says, his voice hushed in the silence of the apartment, and then he barely brushes his lips against yours again, as if he just can’t help himself.

If you were confused earlier, you aren’t anymore. The world around you has faded to a fuzzy, black blur, eclipsed by the soft bloomings of want in your chest.

“I’ve wanted you to do that all night,” you whisper back, aware only as you’re saying it that it’s true. You have wanted him to do that. You want him to do it again and then a whole lot more.

He takes your face in his hands and kisses you, lightly, gently.

“I don’t usually do this,” he says, eyes alighting on yours for only a second before he’s looking at your lips again. “It’s not… This isn’t like me but…”

“I know,” you reply. “Me, too.”

“I feel…”

“Something.”

“Yeah.”

Your heart skips a beat when he looks at you and the world holds its breath; you almost feel time slow down, the seconds that it takes for his hands to fall from your face, glide down your body, and encircle you again stretch into minutes. The distance between your lips – not even inches – stretches far into the horizon. You almost feel each of the chambers of your heart squeeze, a rush of warmth heating your cheeks, your chest, your core.

And then his lips are on you and you’re like a Catherine wheel, spinning and sparking and wild. Time snaps back like an elastic band and you’re frantic now, all hands and lips and tongue.

You slip your fingers into his shirt, flicking open the buttons, running your hands over his body, soft and supple and flushed. His hands push your dress higher and higher, over the slope of your hips and he lifts you, pushing you against the glass and pushing his body into yours. You can feel the arousal pooled at your core and you can feel him straining against his trousers. You’re wet like you’ve been waiting all night for it, like you’ve been anticipating this very moment since you first laid eyes on him. You push his shirt to the floor, watching it float down like a white flag of surrender: surrendering yourself to him, he to you, to this, whatever this is or could be.

“Oh, fuck, fuck.”

Soft whispers tumble from you as Jungkook’s fingers slide past your underwear and press into your wet heat. Your cunt squeezes against them and your hips cant towards him as he presses his thumb against your clit. Your whimpering, whining, mewling barely drowns out the squelch of his fingers working inside you, arousal dripping down his hand. You’re climbing steadily to your peak, moaning against his mouth as he rolls his tongue with yours. You pull on his hair, his head tipping back, his throat exposed. He looks down at you with heavy-lidded eyes and a slack jaw. Then he grins, thrumming faster, pressing harder and you’re squirming. You let go of his hair to clutch around his shoulders, holding on hard as your own head tips back, thudding against the glass.

Jungkook brings his face close to yours and nudges your nose with his, gently guiding your attention back to him. He holds your gaze as your legs quiver and shake, as your breath hitches and you close your eyes, so, so close now.

“Look at me.” His voice is low, soft, but demanding. “I want to see you… I want you to look at me when you come.”

And you do. Your eyes don’t leave his as you fall apart in his arms, pleasure coursing through you like a lightning strike. You’ve barely finished before he’s crashing his lips into you, urgent and needy and then suddenly neither of those things. He slows. He removes his fingers from your soaking wet slip and he holds you close to him, just barely grinding his hips into you. His kiss is deep, languorous, like he’s really tasting you now. The quiet moan he makes as his tongue rolls with yours makes your heart skip a beat and you’re weak. So weak that, when he drops you, lightly, your feet returning to the floor, you almost stumble, almost fall. But he’s got you.

He pushes your dress back down, smoothing it out so he can unzip it. He finally breaks your kiss as he pulls it from your shoulders, letting it slip down your arms. You’re braless and goosebumps sprinkle all over your skin, your nipples shivering to attention. You run your hands through Jungkook’s hair as he dips his head, lowers himself to kiss your neck, your chest, to run his tongue up the underside of your breast and suck your tight little bud into his mouth. The glass at your back is cold but he is so warm in front of you.

He drops to his knees, hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and pulls them to the floor. You step out and he flings them away.

“I want to make you come again.”

He looks up at you and his eyes are wide, imploring, asking, seeking, searching and it’s all you can do to just nod. You’ve had one-night stands and hook-ups and situationships and even boyfriends who haven’t said that to you, who haven’t cared enough to try for one, let alone more.

He’s still looking at you when he puts his mouth on you and runs his tongue through your folds. You let your head fall back again, eyes to the ceiling. Jungkook grunts, the vibration against you a little shock. You look back down at him and he nods, swirling his tongue around your clit, and you understand: he wants you to look at him, he wants to see you and wants you to see him seeing you, as you have all evening. Because he does. See you. He sees you like no one else has. You can already feel it bubbling up within you. You can sense his soul reaching out to yours as yours reaches back to him. You think to yourself that you would probably have fallen in love with him even if he weren’t so good at—

“Oh, fuck, Jungkook. Fuck. Yes, like that.”

He’s fucking you with his fingers again with his mouth sealed around your clit, the soft plane of his tongue pressing against it, sucking and then lapping. You grab onto his hair, hard, grounding you, something, anything to tether you to this world as you feel yourself floating away.

He groans and you understand his instruction, having to drag your eyes back to his. His brows are furrowed, eyes shining bright. Looking into his eyes at this moment is like falling into an abyss. Tumbling and twisting, your body writhes with pleasure, shuddering against the window as you come again, a cry strangled in your throat, legs shaking and then you’re literally falling, sliding down the glass. Jungkook follows you down, his fingers still pressing against you as he kisses up your stomach, your chest, and then he’s holding you. You’re in his arms and he’s kissing you, your own arousal all over his lips and his tongue.

“You ok?” he asks, his voice thick and low.

You couldn’t speak. Could only take his face between your palms and kiss him again. He lifts you up into his lap, so you’re straddling him, knees either side of his hips, and you can feel him, pressing against his trousers, trapped and tensed. You sit down a little further and roll your hips over him; he groans into your mouth and his hands on your glutes squeeze tight.

“Jungkook,” you whisper and he whispers your name back. “Please.”

He lifts you from his lap and kneels up, hands working at his belt and his zip. He stands to shuck them down his legs and kicks them off. You look up at him and ask,

“Do you have…?”

He nods, crossing the room to his wallet on the sideboard by the door. You press your hands against the cool glass of the window, but rather than cooling you, it warms, too. There is heat all over you, burning around you.

Jungkook returns and falls to his knees, condom in hand. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and mumbles, rolling his eyes at himself as he stands once more to push them all the way down and off. You giggle, reaching out for him, rising on your knees as he slides the rubber over his length. He pulls you to your feet and cages you in against the window, lips capturing yours.

He bites down on your lower lip and you can feel him at your entrance. He’s rubbing his length along your slick slit and you’re whimpering, walls fluttering, heart racing. He breaks the kiss to look you in the eye as he pushes into you. A soft gasp leaves you and your hands circle tight around his biceps. You can feel him slow, his eyes watching you carefully now.

“No, don’t stop, don’t stop. It feels good. Please.”

He continues, still slowly, and, when he’s all the way in, he kisses you again, pressing his body against yours.

“Jungkook,” you breathe, but whatever you were about to say disappears into a moan as he drags his cock out and then pushes back in. He moans back and brings a hand to your breast, his thumb rubbing light circles against your pert nipple. You’re already not sure how you’re still standing and then he lowers his lips to your neck and sucks at just exactly the right spot. Your legs tremble and your cunt quivers and you feel his hot breath against your skin as he chuckles.

“You like that, huh?”

“Yes.”

He says no more and his lips return to the sweet spot on your neck. You cling to him, gripping tightly, every pass of the head of his dick against your g-spot a test of your strength, fading rapidly as you start to drown in him. He thrusts deep and slow with little grunts of effort, like he’s holding back.

“Jungkook, I—”

“Yes?”

He’s looking at you again and, up close like this, he takes your breath away.

“I want more. More. I-… I can’t stand, but I wan—oh.”

He doesn’t even let you finish before he’s grabbing you, his hands at the backs of your thighs lifting you, taking all your weight onto him. You wrap your legs around him and he moves faster now, harder, looking down at where he disappears into you. He’s more vocal, louder, as he fucks you into the window and the sound of him, his pleasure, his pleasure in you, stirs you. You’re fucked out and weak but your desire renews your force. You squeeze your walls against him and he curses.

“Shit.”

You do it again and a tiny chuckle bubbles up in his throat.

“Baby, you are dangerous. You’re—fuck, hngh—you’re going to make me come.”

He’s panting and breathy and his hair sticks to his forehead. You wrap you arms around his neck and kiss his cheek, his jaw, bite at his earlobe.

“Isn’t that the point?” you whisper.

A shudder runs through him and he growls, his grip on you tighter, even painfully tight. You pull back to look at him and his eyes are black, his jaw set, his brow furrowed. But he’s still looking at you; his eyes aren’t glazed, aren’t elsewhere, aren’t looking through you. He’s seeing you and you feel naked but not afraid, not exposed. You hold his face and kiss him and he grunts, groans; it’s open-mouthed and sloppy, your breath mingling as your tongues slide past and over each other.

He pulls away and rests his forehead on yours and his stare is so intense, from that alone you would know he was close. He’s cursing lightly, repeatedly, fucking you hard, and then he’s coming, too, with a shudder and an animal groan, guttural and low.

He lowers you both down to the floor and lays you down, kissing you lightly, almost politely, as he brushes your hair from your face. He turns away and stands, disposing of the used condom and grabbing the blanket from the sofa. You just watch him return to you, settling next to you on the floor, covering both your bodies.

You look at the window where your heat and sweat have condensed in an already fading cloud. You laugh and point it out; he laughs, too.

“It’s almost gone already,” he says, watching it shrink, disappear, self-effacing.

You hum. This is usually when you’d feel awkward, make a show of being polite, get up and go but you don’t want to leave; you want to stay right where you are and watch the sun rise with him. You want to yawn and stretch yourself like a cat before curling against him and sleeping through the morning. You want to kiss him both goodnight and good morning. You look at him looking at the window and imagine an entire life with him, spanning years and decades in a second. Your heart beats heavy in your chest and you wonder if he can feel it, if he feels it, too.

When he finally looks back at you, you know. He kisses you like you’re precious, gently traces the shapes of your face with featherlight fingers. You shiver and he pulls you closer into his warm body, pulls the blanket tighter around you.

“Y’know,” he says, pausing to kiss you again. “I’m really glad I went to that party.”

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #bts x reader #bts smut #mmm repost

787 notes · View notes

irisintheafterglow · 4 months

Note

Hey!! Can you write some fluff hcs of katsuki taking you to prom? Thank u so much! 🥰

AAAAAA YES I CAN I LOVE THISSS fun fact i didn't get to go to senior prom because i got sick on the day of :(( but i love any excuse to wear a fancy dress !!!

cw: swearing, implied fem!reader but no she/her pronouns or descriptions, this got super long because i got carried away oops :)) hope you like this!

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3

alright let's be honest if y'all don't already know each other, there's no way he's asking first

he'll think you're super pretty but be too proud to break the tough guy facade and make a move first

buuutttt if you're already kinda in with the bakusquad then it's a little easier for him to ask

and by ask i mean just tell you that you're going to prom with him

you're sitting next to him in the common room doing homework and he just goes

"go to prom with me."

"huh?"

"go to prom with me, 'cause who the fuck else you gonna go with."

"you're a royal asshole, you know that?" and then you pack up your stuff and go back to your dorm and he's like wait shit fuck that's not how that was supposed to go fUCK

so then the next day he's like "go to prom with me."

"are you fucking serious-"

"please?"

and this man never says please so you decide to give him a shot

you've thought he was attractive since your first year but didn't think he would be interested

and then, when you became friends, it seemed abundantly clear that he was too busy training and going on missions to have a relationship

when really he's just terrified of losing you if you don't reciprocate his feelings

so after much convincing from the rest of his friends, he mustered up the courage to ask you tell you to go to prom with him

you already know he was in the group chat after the first attempt to ask you going like

"guys i fucked up"

"bakubro what did you do"

"i told them to go to prom with me and they walked away"

"i think you're leaving out a crucial part of the story"

"ok and i said no one else would go with them"

"dUDE"

"IDIOT"

"WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU SAY THAT"

"I WAS FUCKING NERVOUS"

if you don't already have a dress, he's going dress shopping with you

sits in the waiting area of the fitting room holding a stack of glittery fabrics and doesn't give one (1) fuck about it

definitely the type to whistle under his breath when you walk out in ~the dress~

he has no idea what the fuck he's doing so he's a little,,,,abrasive when it comes to shopping with you

"you need shoes? let's get you some new fucking shoes, then."

"that color is hideous. choose something else because you're too good-looking for shit like that."

"d'you think this color would look good with my eyes? no? damn, harsh crowd."

on the night of prom he's 20 minutes early to pick you up

so he just sits on the floor of your dorm in his suit with his arm propped up on his knee while he watches you finish your makeup

he's mentally taking note of the products you use and the colors you like so if you ever ran out, he could get them for you

you come out of the bathroom and ask him how you look and he genuinely feels like he's suffocating because he can't breathe

after like 30 seconds of staring he just

"damn."

is attached to you at the hip for the remainder of the night

i'm not kidding

his arm is around your waist at all times unless you go to the bathroom or he goes to grab a drink

brags about how good you look at any chance he gets

"yeah, see that dress? i helped pick that out, assholes," he says with a shit-eating grin and the rest of his friends are like 👍ok bro

they know how big of a crush he's had on you so they're amused by how smug he is now

if you force him onto the floor to slow dance he forgets all sense of rhythm

keeps stepping on your feet

tells you to move even though he's stiffer than a wooden board

has no idea where to put his hands and can't look you in the eyes without turning bright pink

you kiss him on the cheek and he fucking freezes LMAO

turns over his shoulder and sees his friends with their phone cameras out like paparazzi (he doesn't mind)

asks you out properly at the end of the night and it's not just a command

instead of "get lunch with me sometime" it's

"get lunch with me sometime? if you wanna, you don't need to if you don't want to-"

and then you kiss him! to make him shut up! and he's a feely mess for the next three days straight until he sees you again

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

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atinylittlepain · 1 year

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Apothecary - Chapter Five

joel miller x witchy!reader

series masterlist

she and joel try to figure out their new normal. will her upside-down world be too much for him to handle?

warnings | 18+ smut-adjacent, significant angst, mentions of pregnancy (not what you think), feelings

word count (since someone asked lmao): 5.8K

a/n | we are entering turbulent waters, my darlings. but remember, i promised you a happy ending, and a happy ending you shall get. just, not yet. as always, i love to hear from you about what you think of the chapter, drop me a message and let's chat <3

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

“Dead man walking at three o’clock, boys.” “Watch out, whatever she’s got working on Miller might rub off on you if you get too close to him.”

“Just a matter of time now, don’t you think?” “Better him than me. I like coming home alive, thank you very much. Miller can have her.”

The folks talking at the stables are lucky that Joel couldn’t give less of a fuck about what they have to say. He’s got better things to focus on. As the summer has slipped into those long languid days before the first snaps of fall, it’s become common knowledge around town that Joel Miller is the witch’s man. And he couldn’t be more pleased about it.

The men place wagers on when he’ll wind up dead, and the women, well, they’ve got a different look in their eyes when he comes around now that he’s so clearly caught the attention of the resident witch. But it’s all just noise to Joel, who is completely and unequivocally wrapped up in his woman.

Tommy has cut down his patrol shifts, and Joel knows it’s because of his brother’s own little superstitious streak, though he’d never admit it to him. But Joel doesn’t mind spending more time working the stables, not when she comes around at midday in between her rounds, sharing her lunch with him, and a little sweetness, before bounding off to wherever she’s needed next.

He’s learning more about her everyday. What’s true, and what’s baseless rumor. Just the other day, he had witnessed for himself her strange communication with animals when she had calmed a bolting horse with a light palm and a few murmured words, the mare tilting its head at her like it was listening to what she had to say. When she had turned back around to Joel after leading the horse into the stables, she offered him a smile and a shrug. Another truth.

They’ve made a little routine around each other, something he didn’t think he’d ever get again in this world, and he fucking adores it. Today is no different, when the sun starts to drip low in the sky and he’s finally finished shoeing a particularly skittish horse, he heads off from the stables toward her shop to pick up his girls. That’s the other thing, she looks out for Ellie, and Ellie thinks she’s “the fucking coolest.” Joel can’t help but feel like he won the damn lottery every time he steps into her shop and finds them laughing and talking easily in the back.

“Wait, wait, I’ve got a good one for you today.”

“Alright, let’s hear it.”

“What do you call witches who live together?”

“I don’t know, tell me.”

“Broom-mates!”

“Kid, that one is bad, even for you.” Both she and Ellie whip around from where they had been chatting in the backroom of her shop when they hear his grumbled words. Ellie scoffs.

“What? It’s topical.” She snorts at Ellie’s response, nudging her as she wipes her hands off on a rag.

“It was ok. A little culturally insensitive though. That whole riding around on brooms thing is a total myth.” Ellie’s eyebrows shoot up her forehead at that, and she laughs at the girl’s expression, stepping around her to pad over to Joel.

“Hey there, handsome. Quitting time?” It still catches him off guard sometimes, how easily she slips her arms over his shoulders, leaning in for a quick kiss, calling him handsome, though he can still hear Ellie making gagging noises over the ringing in his ears.

“Mmhmm, yep, yes ma’am. You ready to go?” She smiles, getting ready to answer him and being abruptly cut off by a sharp mroowww. He’s already expecting it, little paws clawing up his pants leg, a less welcomed development that has recently emerged as Stevie seems to take every chance she gets to make Joel her human scratching post. With a laugh, she scoops the mewling cat up in her arms, holding her out to Joel, though he swerves away slightly.

“Oh c’mon, Joel. Just give her a little pet. She’s trying to show you that she likes you.” He begrudgingly gives Stevie two curt pats on her head to which she lets out an indignant mrrp in response, yellow eyes squinting at him. No matter how many times she’s tried to convince him that Stevie likes him, Joel is still not sure what the cat thinks of him, or more importantly, what he thinks of her. There’s been a few times now when he has stumbled down stairs in the middle of the night to get a glass of water, still rubbing sleep out of his eyes, and he’s found the cat, frozen midstep, going god knows where out the backdoor. How Stevie got the door open in the first place is beyond him…

Ellie huffs from behind them, shuffling over and taking Stevie out of her arms, the feline immediately nuzzling up to her and purring like the most content engine ever.

“You can’t just bop her on the head like that, old man. Stevie likes a gentle touch.” She giggles at Ellie’s admonishment, her hand that had been resting on his chest coming up to scratch lightly at his scruff as he grumbles.

“Jesus christ, are y’all ready to go or not?”

They certainly make an odd little team walking down the main drag of Jackson, his arm slung over her shoulders, Ellie walking a bit ahead of them carrying Stevie like a baby. There are stares, of course, there always are, and even a loose whisper here and there as they make their way home. Or, he supposes, to his and Ellie’s home, though she spends most nights with him these days.

Pieces of her life have become permanent fixtures at the Miller residence, her “sensitive plants,” as she had called them, lining the windowsills downstairs, a few thick books of hers stacked on his nightstand, her overalls hanging off the corner of his bathroom door. He’d never admit it to anyone, but it actually makes him quite sentimental, these tangible reminders that he gets to call her his. Though there are always a few nights a week that she slips off by herself, going back to the shop or her own place after dinner. He tries not to think too hard about those times, and what she might be up to. After all, there are still a whole lot of things about her that he can’t quite believe, his mind playing catch-up with the strangeness of it all. But he reckons it’s worth it to get to have her like he does right now, an easy hand on her hip as they get dinner ready, Ellie rambling at the kitchen table about something Dina said earlier at school.

And while it feels so good, this routine they’ve slipped into, there’s always a twinge of guilt laced through when his mind wanders to the world just outside of Jackson’s gates, to his past, and the harsh dissonance between this present sweetness and that old pain. He had once asked Tommy about it, how he lives in this strange sliver of normal after the life they’ve known, and his brother had just shrugged and said that maybe it was exactly because of their past that they deserve whatever respite they can find now.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Her voice snaps him out of his mind, eyes focusing back on her sitting across from him at the table, dinner long finished and Ellie off wreaking havoc with the other Jackson teens. Don’t tell anyone, but Joel Miller has traded in his usual nightcap at the Tipsy Bison for a warm cup of whatever she steeps in a kettle on the stove. He doesn’t mind the taste, and it saves him a headache in the morning, and right now, the warmth from his mug anchors him just enough to ask her what’s been on his mind.

“Y’know, you never did tell me how you knew– about Sarah.” Her eyes soften around the edges, smile drooping just slightly.

“Well, I told you that I see the world in threads. The thread between you and Sarah– your daughter– it’s a particularly strong one.”

“Even though– even though she’s gone?”

“She isn’t gone, Joel, not really. I can feel her all around you.” His head spins with her words, tightness settling in his chest, and he doesn’t realize he had been clenching his fist until she reaches out for him, unfurling his fingers in her hand.

“Can you– could you– could you talk to her?” Her brows pinch, lips pressing into a thin frown at his question.

“I’m sorry, baby, I can’t. People– like me– we all have different talents. I had an aunt who’d have long conversations with her husband who had passed on– but that’s never been something I’m able to do.” He swallows hard, nodding, feeling a bit foolish for asking the question in the first place.

“But you said you can– feel her?” That brightens back her smile, and she squeezes his hand in hers.

“We’re all just energy. Even when we die, that can never be destroyed. So yes, I can feel her with you, and how much she loved– loves you.” It becomes too much for him all at once, the hot prick of tears behind his eyes spurring him to tug his hand out of hers. She says his name like a question, but he’s already stumbling out of his chair and toward the front door.

“Wait, Joel– just– where are you going?” It breaks his heart, the concern laced through her words, and when he turns to give her a response, his hand still on the doorknob, he can barely look at her.

“I’m sorry– I can’t– it’s just– I can’t– it’s too much– it’s all too much.” Perfect silence, she offers no reply to his words, and he doesn’t wait around to hear one, slipping out the front door and stumbling into the quickening night.

…

She fucked up, it becoming clear to her with the slam of his front door behind him. All she wanted was for him to have the truth, hoping that it could be a comfort to him. But obviously she had been mistaken in thinking that. He said that it was too much, but the implication of those words was apparent, that she’s too much. She knows better than to follow him, having figured enough out about Joel Miller to understand that any prodding will be unwelcomed, so she stands, feeling a bit helpless, in the middle of his living room. But then she starts looking around, seeing her plants everywhere, a few of her bracelets on the coffee table along with one of her books, knowing there’s more where that came from up in his bedroom, and she starts to think that she had come on too strong, that she was too much.

He was spooked by what she said, there were no two ways about it. She’d recognize that look in his eyes anywhere. She just hated that it had been in his eyes. Suddenly, she wants, needs, to get out of his house, and away from the deafening silence of being alone. She grabs her satchel, hastily shoving whatever odds and ends of herself strewn around his house that she can into her bag. She’s with it enough to lock the front door and slip out the back, figuring that wherever he went, he won’t be back for a while. The hot slip of tears comes before she can stop it, hurrying away from Joel’s house and toward her shop, intent on doing the one thing she knows will calm her mind.

…

He fucked up. He knew it the second he stepped out on his porch, and had even thought about turning back around right then, going back inside, trying to talk it out with her. But there was nothing to talk out, she’d done nothing wrong, he knew that. It had been such a jarring conversation for him, straddling the line between disbelief and something that touched a little too close to bone for his taste, and unable to stay up on the tightrope with her, he bolted.

The Tipsy Bison is quieter tonight, it being the middle of the week, but that’s a blessing to him, not wanting to run into anyone he knows while he tries to fuzz out his thoughts with booze. It plays over and over again in his mind.

I can feel her all around you.

Joel reckons that more than anything else, the feeling that had propelled him out of his house and away from her had been anger, that she can feel something he would give anything to feel himself. Very early on, he’d talk to Sarah, every night, asking her for signs. It had been in a fit of frustration when no signs ever came that he had pointed a gun at his temple and missed. So for her to so easily say that, to bridge that gap he had been clawing at for twenty years, it had set loose a dark mix of emotions he had been trying to stifle for a long time. And he believes her too, no matter how fantastical it seems. He knows that whatever she does choose to tell him, it’s always the truth, which only makes it sting worse.

He feels sick to his stomach after his first tumbler of whiskey, a gnawing pain he can’t shake, his mind replaying the glance he got of her face before he left, a crumpled look, something bordering on fear. And he suddenly has no interest in staying at the bar any longer, pushing away his glass and walking out onto the empty streets of Jackson, having stayed in there long enough for night to lay down heavy and cool over the town.

A pause, trying to get his bearings, to get out of his head, his eyes wander over the storefronts outside the Tipsy Bison, though it’s a figure emerging from between the shops that catches his attention.

“What’re you doing out here, trouble?”

meooowww

He shuffles across the street over to Stevie, meeting her in the alleyway she just sauntered out of. Bending at the waist, he offers out his palm, Stevie rubbing her cheek up against his fingers with a satisfied purr.

“Think I messed up a little.” Stevie lets out a mrow at that, and if she hadn’t been nuzzling at his palm, he would’ve sworn that she nodded her head at his words. Joel sighs, standing back upright, Stevie’s yellow eyes looking up at him, unblinking.

“Better go talk to her, huh?” This time, there’s no other explanation for the little bob of the cat’s head, and Joel has to let out a laugh at the sheer absurdity of it. Whatever this new normal is, ain’t nothing normal about it.

“Alright, trouble, you coming?” He gets no response, because, hello, it’s a cat. But when he starts walking, Stevie falls into step next to him.

The whole walk home, he’s so preoccupied with what he wants to say to her that he’s completely caught off guard when he goes to open the front door and finds it locked. Not a light is on inside, either, and he can’t help the frustration rising in his chest, Stevie starting to claw at his pants not helping one bit. She stops just as soon as she started, giving him an expectant look before turning around and padding down his porch steps. At his wit’s end, all Joel can think to do is follow the cat.

…

This is when she feels closest to her mother. Sweat pricking along her hairline, the sleeves of an old work shirt hiked up to her armpits, the backdoor to the shop cracked open to air out the fumes, and a bandana tied over the bridge of her nose, covering the lower half of her face as she works.

She’s had to make changes to the process in this new world. Where they used to buy lye from the local craft store, she now has to make it herself, leaching wood ash in barrels in the alley outside the shop. Where they used to use exotic oils like neem and jojoba, she now makes due with beeswax and sunflower seed oil. But she still stirs honey, mint, and lavender into the mix, the scent a pure dose of home for her.

Her eyes burn as she stirs, the sharp sting of vapors from the lye a welcome distraction from all the thoughts still winding around her mind. She’s done this a thousand times, moving with measured precision, the mixture swirling thick and black as she carefully ladles it into the wooden mold. They used to make huge batches every spring, rectangular molds the size of garden beds, and once the soap was set and cured, they’d slice it up into small blocks, enough for the year and then some. Now she only makes a little at a time, when she wishes more than anything she still had her mother with her, telling her what the next right step is.

She wipes away the cool drip of sweat on her forehead with the back of her hand, turning the stove off with a jerk of her chin. Some things never get old. But before she can take the now empty stock pot over to the sink, Stevie comes slinking in, nuzzling up against her ankles. She tugs her bandana down from her nose, letting it hang around her neck as she looks down at her girl.

“What’d you get into tonight, little miss?”

“She talked some sense into me.” Her head whips up at the sound of his voice, seeing Joel leaning against the backdoor frame. She can’t help but feel a bit exposed in her ratty attire, and she wonders how much he had seen. She’s never had anyone around when she’s done this before, and it feels like a vulnerability she wasn’t ready to extend to him.

She sniffs, squaring her shoulders and trying to seem unphased by his presence, willing her voice to come out steady.

“Oh?” She feels like she needs to swallow around something thick in her throat, words getting stuck somewhere in her chest.

“I’m sorry– that I just bolted. I wasn’t expecting that– what you said– and I reacted without much thought.” Her fingers itch with want, to reach for him, to thumb away the crease between his brows. But she resists it, staying where she is, her hands bunching into the fabric of her loose shirt instead.

“You don’t have to apologize, Joel. I’m the one who should be saying I’m sorry. You were right– it was too much, and I should have been able to see that. I’m sorry that I pressed too hard.” He kicks up off the doorframe, stepping into the shop, and immediately lets out a few harsh coughs, thumping his fist against his chest as he squints at her.

“Is there– a reason– my throat feels like– it’s on fire?” She curses low, quickly guiding him by the shoulders back out of the shop and into the alley.

“Fuck! I’m sorry! It’s the fumes from the lye. I guess I’m just used to it by now.” She rubs quick circles across his back as he continues to let out wheezy coughs, looking at her with wide eyes when he finally catches his breath.

“What the hell are you doing with lye, woman?” The harsh tone of his words makes her jerk back from him, stepping just out of reach as she crosses her arms over her chest.

“It’s for soap. That’s what I’m doing, making fucking soap. Not whatever all those people you talked to put into your head.” His face blanches in the moonlight, jaw slack at her words.

“That’s not– I didn’t mean it like that.” She scoffs, anger suddenly feeling like a really good idea as she takes another step back when he goes to reach for her.

“Oh really? Are you sure about that, Joel? Are you sure that this isn’t too much for you? That I’m not too much for you?” She regrets the words the instant they leave her mouth, her mounting insecurity a thick sludge in her throat as silence settles between them.

“This ain’t about the soap, is it?” She has to laugh at his timid question, throwing her hands out in frustration.

“Yes– no– fuck, I don’t know. I just– the way you looked at me? When I told you about Sarah? I’ve seen that look before, and I know it well– it usually means that it’s time for me to go.”

“Go? What do you mean go? I don’t want you to go anywhere, goddamnit!” The sharp raise of his voice catches her by surprise, his frustration clear in the long drag of his palm down his face, the sigh he lets out as he squints at her in the dim light.

“Then I need you to tell me right now if what I do, what I am, is going to be a problem for you. Because if it is, I can’t– can’t do this.” She can’t fight it down anymore, the hiccup in her voice, the warble that threatens tears, and Joel’s features soften at the little sniff she lets out.

“You know it’s not a problem for me, you know that. But– I ain’t gonna lie to you, this ain’t easy, darlin. All these things I sure as shit didn’t believe in until I met you. Sometimes I feel like my world’s been turned upside down trying to wrap my head around it all.” She doesn’t step away this time, when he gets closer to her, tentative hand reaching out and circling around her wrist before sliding down to tangle his fingers with hers.

“It’s a lot. But it’s not too much. I promise you.” Words she’s never heard before, and now she really can’t stop the tears muddling up her vision and slipping down her cheeks. He takes another step closer, his other hand coming up to brush away stray salt with the backs of his knuckles. And it finally clicks for her in that moment just how much she wants him to mean it, how much she wants him to stay, and it terrifies her.

“I really am sorry, Joel– about what I said earlier. I should’ve been more careful.” He holds his palm steady against her cheek, dark eyes swimming in shadows.

“I was the one that asked, darlin. I just– I’m gonna need a little more time with– with that.” She sighs, having already reached a conclusion that she doesn’t like one bit, though she knows it’s for the best. She isn’t going to let this be like any of the times before.

“I think that maybe we should take things– slower.” She can tell that Joel doesn’t like that, his brow scrunching up, thumb stilling where it had been stroking along the arc of her cheek.

“S-slower?” She nods, squeezing his hand that’s still tangled up in hers.

“We rushed into this, didn’t we? I mean– it’s only been a few weeks since we really started seeing each other, and I’m already practically living with you.” His face really falls at that, a deep frown settling around his lips.

“You don’t wanna live with me, is that it?” She’d laugh if he wasn’t looking so pitiful about it, instead offering him her best smile as she brings her other hand up to brush his hair out of his face.

“That isn’t what this is about, Joel. I just think it might be good for us– for you– if you’re not in my– upside-down world– all the time, at least at first. Like getting acclimated to a new altitude, you gotta take it slow.” She knows it’s a weak explanation the minute the words leave her mouth, but she also knows she’s right. Joel, on the other hand, still has a displeased scrunch to his face, like someone just told him a tasteless joke.

“Uh, well, ok– if that’s what you want then– I mean, I guess we can– we can do that– we can take things– slow.” He keeps clearing his throat between words, stop-starting himself like he’s trying to convince himself he means it as he’s saying it. And when he finally gets it all out, with a firm little nod of his head, she can’t help but reward him with a quick kiss.

“Thank you, baby. I really think this is important– I wouldn’t have suggested it if I didn’t.” He nods again, his hand that had been cupping her cheek trailing down her shoulder, her arm, until he’s holding both her hands in his.

“So, what does this look like– us taking it slow?”

“We can figure it out as we go. But for right now, I think we can say goodnight, and I’ll go back to my place, and you’ll go back to yours.”

“Can I walk you home?” Her heart tugs at that, his question so earnestly asked, only making it harder for her to respond with a sigh.

“I kinda have to clean up the shop still. I can’t really leave that stuff out overnight, y’know? A-and I obviously don’t want you messing with it, so–”

“No, I-I get it, that’s alright. Um, so I guess, goodnight then.” She’s never seen him so flustered, having to stifle a giggle when he realizes he’s still holding her hands and lets go with a huff. He seems to think on it for a beat, quickly ducking in and pressing the most precious kiss to her cheek, muttering a quiet “goodnight, darlin” as he turns to head home, shoving his hands deep into his pockets and taking a few jerky looks over his shoulder at her before he rounds the corner of the alley.

She turns back to the shop with a sigh, Stevie sitting in the back doorway, head tilted at her.

“What? It’s for the best, you’ll see.”

…

For the record, Joel doesn’t like this taking it slow business, at all. He’s not even sure how she got him to agree to it, he had been so turned around that night, and she had been giving him those eyes… But no, he doesn’t like it, not one bit.

To start with, he doesn’t like that she no longer comes around to the stables at mid-day, no quick kisses, no easy smiles. Nothing. And he doesn’t like that she no longer comes over for dinner every night, and not just because she’s a better cook than him. He doesn’t like that his walk home from the stables no longer includes a regular stop by her shop. And he doesn’t like that he has to hear from Ellie what his woman was up to that day. He hates that they go on dates now, like normal fucking people, scheduling time to be together instead of just throwing out the clock and moving like magnets. But perhaps more than any of his other qualms, the thing he hates the most is that he doesn’t get her in his bed every night.

When he agreed to take things slow, he didn’t know it meant this slow. He didn’t know it meant goodnight kisses and holding hands but that’s it slow. Afterall, he’s only a man, and after getting to have her the way that he did, it feels damn near impossible not to crave that like a drug.

He’ll admit that she was right, taking it down a notch has made it easier to wrap his head around the things that she shares with him. But it’s been three weeks of this, and he’d turn himself upside-down, inside-out, and every which way around if it meant speeding things back the fuck up.

Laying in bed, his mind swirls with images of her. Is it gross that he hasn’t washed his sheets since the last time she stayed over? He doesn’t really care, not when there’s still a faint trace of incense and lavender on the pillow she slept on.

His mind wanders to the last time he had her here. It was early in the morning, before either of them had to go to work, and she had lazily slung a bare thigh over his waist, perfect in the hazy morning light as she straddled him. It had been slow and sweet, taking time that they didn’t really have. She was so warm and soft for him, all gentle sighs, the mesmerizing curve of her hips and the sway of her breasts, an image that works him up now in the cool darkness of his empty bed.

It’s not the same, of course it’s not the same. But it’ll have to do for now. He holds her steady in his mind, a dream, an idol, a fucking goddess, and he palms himself through his boxers, a damp spot already forming from just thinking about her. He kicks his sheets off, shrugging his boxers down just enough to let his cock spring out, pre-come smearing over his stomach where it now rests. Part of him can see how pathetic this looks, rubbing one out every night to the dream of his woman, but he wouldn’t have to if they weren’t taking things so goddamn slow. Now, a normal person would think that maybe he should just talk to her about picking up the pace. But he’s too stubborn for that, and he knows it, and it drives him crazy that he equates having that conversation with defeat. Joel tells himself that he can do this, he can give her what she wants, respect her boundaries, no matter how stupid he thinks they are.

He doesn’t take his time with himself. This is purely about release for him, and he knows exactly how to get himself there, spitting harshly into his hand and wrapping his palm around the base of his cock, scrunching his eyes shut as he starts to work himself over.

She’s all he thinks about in these moments, how her hands are so much different than his, still calloused from the work she does, but softer, and smaller. He thinks about the plush of her lips, and how they fall open when she comes, the little crease between her brow her other tell. He thinks about the way her spine curves and curls, and how his palms would run circuits around the arc as he took her from behind. His mind flashes with images of her, and it isn’t long before he’s coming with a low groan of her name, his spend smearing over his knuckles.

Maybe it’s the fact that it’s been nearly a month now, or maybe he’s just more tired than usual, but Joel feels a particular pang of despair as he cleans himself up, and it’s enough to crack whatever resolve he had left.

He sleeps better that night, having decided that first thing the next morning he’s going to stop by the apothecary and he’s going to tell her that he’s done taking it slow.

That plan falls apart the moment he enters her shop. The first thing he notices is her bag, strewn out on the floor, a few jars and bottles spilling out of it, and his heart sinks. Next to Stevie, that bag is her baby, and Joel immediately knows that something isn’t right for it to be crumpled on the floor.

He calls out her name, but gets no response, though Stevie comes skittering out of the back room, making a beeline for his legs, frantically mewling as she rubs up against his pants leg, insistent and loud, and that isn’t quite right to him either.

Trying not to step on Stevie as she stays glued to his ankles, he shuffles into the back room, his brow scrunching up when he doesn’t see her, at least not right away.

“Joel?” That’s a voice he’s never heard from her before, barely there, hoarse, like she could only just get the word out. He steps further into the room, peering around the butcher’s block, and that’s when he finally sees her.

She’s curled in on herself, knees up to her chin, sitting in the back corner of the room. Her eyes are red-rimmed and swimming, tears streaking down her cheeks, the sight all but taking his breath away. He moves fast, his mind screaming at him that he needs to fix it, to make it better, whatever it is.

He’s quick to get down to her level, palms steadying her jaw as another resounding round of sobs rolls through her chest.

“Hey, hey– it’s ok, I’m here, huh? I’m right here. What– what happened? What is it?” His questions only seem to make her cry harder, shaking her head in his hands. She brings her hands to clasp his wrists, and it’s then that he notices dried blood lining her fingernails.

“You’re scaring me here, darlin. I need you to tell me what happened, please.”

“I lo-lost her– I lost her, I lost her, I can’t believe I lost her–” She breaks herself off with another sob, and Joel shifts to sit down next to her, wrapping his arms around her shuddering shoulders to coax her into his chest.

“Who– who’d you lose, darlin?” She evens out her shuddering breaths with a hard sigh, her answer coming on a few disjointed exhales.

“Maura went into labor last night– and I– and I– it was a girl– she was a girl– and she wasn’t breathing– she wasn’t breathing, Joel. And I didn’t know what to do.” She dissolves into another sob, and Joel doesn’t know what to do besides hold her a little closer, shock and sadness simmering in his veins. He remembers her telling him about Maura, one of her regular house visits to check on the progress of her pregnancy. She always told him how excited the woman seemed to get to become a mother.

“Is– is Maura ok?” He’s surprised by the bitter huff she lets out at that.

“I don’t kn-know. She kicked me out– told me it was my fault– she’s right– it’s all my– all my fault.” He’s quick to bring his palm to her jaw, coaxing her eyes up to meet his, gentle but firm pressure holding her there.

“Listen to me, it is not your fault. Not anyone’s fault, and it’s especially not yours. Whatever happened, I promise you, it is not your fault, do you understand?” She gives him no answer, just lets out another shaky sigh before burying her face back in his chest.

And all he can do is hold her as close as he can, and will some of her pain to seep into his skin, to make it even a little more bearable, to carry that for her. He reckons that he’d take it all away from her if he could.

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

taglist (lmk if you want added or dropped): @boofy1998 @misspascaliverse @jasminedragoon @beskarandblasters @daddy-din @subconsciouscollapse @avidreader73 @pedgeitopascal @littlelou22 @wannab-urs @hannahlupinblack @whoiscaroline @leeeesahhh @str84pedro @mumma-moonchild @disregardedplant @mxtokko @igloo71 @secretdazeobservation @eddie-munson-dungeon-master @cressida-clearwood @mydailyhyperfixations @mingeniee @the-ginger-hedge-witch @delicious-collection @funnygirlthatgab @thereaperisabitch

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller angst #tlou #tlou fanfiction #the last of us #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #joel miller series #joel miller au #joel miller fic #joel tlou #apothecary

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filmofhybe · 6 months

Note

Could I request for Enhypen? Enha & their s/o shopping/on a date and someone comes up to flirt with their s/o in front of them. And the person is actively ignoring Enha lmao

shopping date interference

pairing : ot7! x reader genre : fluff warning : jealousy , arguing , disgusting comments towards reader , swearing. 1023 words

a/n : skl is tmr i have never wanted to skip so bad. But is okay I got jungwon’s lip balm that will get me going. I also wanna cry cuz aot has officially ended. I’m not ok.

> Masterlist to my other works

희 승 heeseung + 박종성 Park Jeongseong + 성훈 Sunghoon

the ones that seems like they won’t notice at the very beginning. But they knew it since the beginning. For example, they would be paying for the stuff you want while your just standing behind them. Than suddenly a guy walks towards you and start flirting with you. You absolutely ignoring him and just wish they finish paying FAST. They obviously know he’s there, eardropping all the disgusting flirtatious comments they are making towards you. Wants to punch them so hard and won’t hesitate even if they are in a store. Because you deserve to get treated with respect and love. Drags you out after threatening them.

“Babe I’ll pay for this, just stay close with me alright?” He said as he walked towards the cashier. You trailing behind him because he said to stay close to him.

Your thoughts was interrupted as a stranger approaches you. “Hey gorgeous how’s your day?”

silence.

“Aww don’t ignore me bubs. Your so cute bet you’re just shy.”

silence.

“don’t be shy around me I don’t bite.”

silence.

“That would be $456 sir.”

“Aww look at your little man paying for you! I can get you some stuff as well if you want.”

“I hope you shut that disgusting mouth of yours and leave my girlfriend alone.” He says as he grabs your hand, ready to leave.

“Wow calm down I was just offering her things!”

“Well she clearly doesn’t want the stuff your offering.”

“Why are you talking for her?”

“Maybe cause she’s scared of you? If you can’t stop talking, maybe we should take it somewhere else and it’s not gonna end well for you.”

He judged that disgusting man before taking you out of the store.

“Are you alright baby? I’m so sorry I didn’t step in faster I’m just so furious that people are talking to you like that.”

“Is okay love. I just don’t want to give him attention so that’s why I ignored him.”

“Such a good girl, that’s why you deserve everything I’m getting you today and my love forever.”

にしむらりき Nishimura Riki +정원 jungwon

these two boys would be so confused what’s going on. Let’s just say they are jealous but they put their whole trust on you. They would 100% step in when it gets too far. But you would just drag them away because you think they are being super disrespectful, the way they are ignoring your boyfriend and the disgusting comments towards you. Nah they are basically disrespecting both of you. Clueless babies that just stares at you afterwards but acts all cuddly because they heard the stuff they said about you.

“Hey cutie how are you?” a random guy just came up to you. Catching you off guard. Your boyfriend was aware of the guy’s presence but he wants to know what he’s going to do before stepping in.

You never answer him because no man deserves your attention besides your boyfriend.

“Hey stop ignoring me. I just want to know you more!”

“Maybe a drink or something? Will that get me to know you more?”

“Maybe we can even go shop around that cute lingeri-”

“Are you blind or are you just going to ignore u have a boyfriend? You basically disrespecting both of us?”

“Babe I’m not? I’m just tryna chat you up. You boyfriend aren’t even-”

“Maybe just leave us alone? My girlfriend clearly doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“Fuck her she’s being a bit-”

Before he can even finish his sentence, you dragged your boyfriend away. Storming off while anger is building inside of you. No one is going to disrespect you while your just trying to have a chill and relaxed shopping date.

“I’m so sorry he’s being disrespectful towards you. He can clearly see I have a boyfriend. Ugh I hate man sometimes.”

“You hate man?”

“Well you get what I mean but it’s never going to be you love…”

“This is why I love you and I put so much trust in you.”

선우 Sunoo + 심재윤 Sim Jaeyun

The ones that would make fun of him. Icl they would start making fun of him until it gets too far. They would go full on protective mode. And the fact they know he’s ignoring their presence makes his blood boil. Starts spitting out curse words at them making them take back everything they had said. Starts laughing again after you guys are out of his sight.

“Hey lovely you free?” Another day another man coming up to you. You were sick and tired of it atp because you clearly have a boyfriend, that your currently in his arms.

“Did he just came up to you wobbling and ask are you free?” Your boyfriend whispered into your ears making you chuckled before focusing on the guy that’s in front of you both. You clearly having a uninterested expression in.

“I hope that’s your brother beside you cuz your really cute, especially the skirt your wearing.” Okay that’s when he cross the line cuz why the hell is he looking at your skirt?

“That’s my boyfriend not my brother.”

“But is it okay if I get your number? Just as frien-”

“She just said im her boyfriend do you need your ears fucking checked? What the actual fuck is wrong with you..?”

“I actually don’t need a check up I just want her num-”

“Your clearly ignoring my boyfriend’s presence and I rejected your offer so no.”

Both of your blood was boiling as you walked pass him. Bumping into him as you both left him speechless and embarrassed.

“BABE STOP DID YOU SEE HIS FACE?”

“NAH WE CUSSED HIM OUT GOOD?!”

“This is why we are meant for each other.”

“Always love you know we do the funniest things together.”

series taglist : @surefornext @spilled-coffee-cup @skepvids @amymyli @in-somnias-world @okjaeminn @nonotwice1 @thinkmyg @blubbfsh

Reblog , comment or dm to be on my perm taglist !

networks : @k-films @k-neighborhood @k-labels @kflixnet

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justwearthegoddamncardigan · 6 months

Note

Hi Rin! I've been reading your writings and I've been having the best fun, thanks you for the hard work! Seeing that you are accepting requests I was wondering if you could do a Minho x reader? (Female if possible but ofc if not that's good too!) With reader having a sweet and caring personality and Minho at the beginning scoffing at her bc he thinks everyone is too soft on them but newt and others commenting of him being hyper aware so they tease him saying he has a crush? And then a scene where he starts developing feels and he's like nonono but there's no way out hehe. Hope you have a very lovely day!

This is so cute!!!!!! Thanks for requesting (and waiting 😭) ❤❤

Got a very teenage vibe from this as I was writing, hence the title

Teenage dream

Minho x fem!reader

Set during tmr (movieverse, before Thomas)

Notes: this is more of a Minho pov fic? Hope that's ok :))) Kinda switches back to reader at the end though

Warnings: vomit tw, language, reader's drunkness levels change drastically within minutes, ALSO TEENAGE AWKWARDNESS TO THE MAX, I swear Minho has better game in my other fics, he's just a silly sweet guy here lmao

"Light 'em up!"

Minho stands back as the other boys throw their stakes into the bonfire, watching you giggle at their raucous cheers from across the Glade, an involuntary smile rising on his face.

Before long, the party's in full swing; meaning everyone is now yet again horribly, stupidly drunk.

Minho, as usual, has only had a bit of Gally's concoction, and is idly chatting with Ben as he hears a loud crash.

"What the..."

He leaves Ben, jogging over to the scene to see... of course.

It's you, the two-months-in Greenie, and you're sprawled out on the ground in a mess of barrels that have been knocked down, potatoes spilling everywhere.

Your arms are tangled with Newt's- Newt? and you're both laughing, harder than Minho's seen Newt laugh in a while.

"We- the potatoes. The potatoes," Newt manages to say, gasping between cackles.

"Eh. Problem for tomorrow," you sing, extracting yourself from the barrels and potatoes that are now all over the ground.

"Here," says Minho, containing his eyeroll and stepping forward to offer Newt an arm.

"Thanks, man."

Minho tugs Newt up, and yep, he's plastered cause Newt flies up and stumbles forward, crashing into an amused Jeff and nearly sending them both tumbling down.

You stand beside Newt, body folding in laughter as you reach out to grab his arm.

"What's going on?" Alby's voice cuts through the chaos.

You wobble over to him, grabbing one of his hands and clasping it between both of yours in a praying motion. "Sorry, Albs. We'll clean it up in the morning, promise."

"Yeah, you better," says Alby, and his voice is stern but Minho can see the smile reaching his eyes.

What the hell? What happened to their strict leader?

"Thanks, leader man," you say with a grin, patting his chest and giving him a cheesy thumbs up.

Suddenly shouts sound out nearby, and Minho turns to see someone staggering around before turning and throwing up right onto a tabletop.

"Dammit, Ben," mutters Jeff, pinching the bridge of his nose and rushing over.

"Did someone throw up?" Minho hears you ask, before you jog over, veering slightly off to the side as you run.

He sighs and follows you, to where the Gladers are standing around Ben making various ew and gross sounds as if they don't have someone chuck up at least every couple months.

"I ain't cleaning this up for you," Minho tells Ben as he helps him up.

"The whole damn table is gonna stink for months," groans Jeff, looking over the table the Medjacks lent for the bonfire.

"Sorry," mumbles Ben, his words slurring slightly.

"It's alright," you say comfortingly, grabbing a piece of wood you got from god knows where and scraping the stuff into a bin.

"Hey, strong men," you call. "Grab this table and go spray it at the hose."

"Sorry," repeats Ben.

Minho sighs, and shakes his head. "Not your fault you're a lightweight," he says light-heartedly, punching his friend in the arm gently.

He watches as you wash your hands quickly before grabbing a cup of water and bringing it over to Ben.

"Here," you say, handing it to him. "Don't worry, the table's fine. Worst case we'll use it as firewood for next time."

You trip slightly as you step back, and Minho shoots out an arm to grab your waist before he even knows what he's doing. "Alright?" he asks.

You grin, patting his arm. "Guess I'm not as steady as I thought I was."

"Oh really," Minho lifts an eyebrow. "You thought you were steady when you fell into three barrels of potatoes?"

"Ya know, the one time that happens..."

"You mean, just now?"

"Yeah, that one time,"

"Stop with this couples banter," groans Ben. "My head hurts."

"Hungover and drunk at the same time," you say, nodding so sympathetically Minho genuinely can't tell if you're acting or not. "Here, let's get you to bed."

⭒----⭒

"Every month we manage to top the last month's mess," announces Alby, sitting on a table as he addresses the Gladers, most of whom are still waking up and groaning.

He throws out orders for each group, eyes shut and massaging his temples as he speaks, before he gets to; "Y/n, Newt. Gardeners."

"Minho and I already packed up the potatoes from yesterday," begins Alby, and Minho warms as he feels your eyes on him.

"Some of them were crushed under the barrels," Alby continues. "We lost some supplies."

You bite your lip, looking up nervously. You exchange a glance with Newt, and you're wearing identical guilty expressions.

Alby rolls his eyes. "Like scolded children, both of you. Just get to your jobs, go on."

"Thanks mate," says Newt, clapping his friend on the shoulder.

"Yeah, thanks Alby." You give him a little sheepish smile before leaving.

"I'll check on our leftover supplies," says Newt. "Minho, come with?"

"Wh- sure," says Minho, following behind.

⭒----⭒

"Something on your mind?" asks Newt, shifting some food barrels around.

"You're all too soft on her," mumbles Minho, crossing his arms.

"What's that?"

"You, all of you. With Y/n. You shouldn't be letting her get away with things just cause she smiles, or reward her cause she does one tiny nice thing."

Newt turns around, an amused expression on his face, which is infuriating but also extremely worrying.

"What," snaps Minho.

"Nothing," says Newt, all innocent. "What do you mean 'get away with'?"

"Like just then," says Minho. "She got drunk at the bonfire and made a whole mess, then what? Just flirted her way out of trouble? That's bullshit right there."

"I was with her, I made that mess too."

"You weren't the one who fell into the barrels," Minho fires back.

"And how would you know that? You must've been watching her pretty closely." Newt's full on grinning now, hands on his hips in mock sternness.

Minho deflects. "Whatever, she shouldn't get away with making a mess like that."

"Mate, everyone gets shucking plastered at the bonfires. Don't tell me you've been blind to Zart passing out on the ground every month or how Ben can hardly get through his morning runs."

"I mean, yeah, but people don't knock whole barrels of crop over."

"Winston damn near fell into the fire last month."

"That's different," insists Minho.

"Fine," says Newt, sighing. "Can we go back to when you said she flirts her way out of trouble?"

Minho freezes. "...what?"

"Go on then," says Newt, grin stretching on his face. "What'd you mean?"

Minho averts his gaze, uncharacteristically conflicted. "Ya know, just like... how she had her hands all over Alby last night, when he should've been yelling at her or something."

Newt raises an eyebrow, tilting his head at Minho. "What, did you want her to get in trouble?"

"No! Of course not," protests Minho. "Just- in general, it's not fair. To flirt like that and... you know," he finishes weakly.

"That's not flirting mate, she's just an affectionate drunk."

"Yeah... Whatever."

"You know," begins Newt. "One of these days you'll understand, and the rest of us'll be here, laughing our damn asses off at you."

Minho scrunches up his face, confused.

Newt laughs, tossing an arm around his friend. "Give it time, you'll get it."

⭒----⭒

It's a month later, after the next bonfire, that someone finally has the courage to tell it straight to Minho.

" -and people think she's like, the greatest soul to bless the Glade. It's stupid. The other day, she helped Gally carry something, ya know, cause his shoulder was shucked, and I swear, the whole of the Builders had stars in their eyes." Minho huffs, rolling his eyes.

"And," he continues. "She looks after Greenies like they're incapable of walking. Then suddenly everyone loves her?"

"Everyone loves Newt," Ben points out. "Why aren't you getting all pissed about him?"

"I'm not pissed," argues Minho. "I'm just observing... stating. People give her credit for just being a vaguely decent human being."

"Minho. You sound insane. You're literally listing good things, and twisting them into... whatever bullshit point you're trying to make."

Ben continues. "Y/n is a decent human being. She's kind, caring, better than the rest of us assholes at accommodating the newbies. She helps people out. Is that so bad?"

"I mean, no... but-,"

"But nothing!" interrupts Ben. "Why are you so obsessed, anyway? Haven't you given some thought into why you're hyperaware of her every move?"

"Oi! Are you telling him?" Newt's voice rings out from across the empty dining hall.

"Yes," says Ben, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Cause this is exhausting."

"Shuckin' finally," says Newt, clapping Ben on the shoulder as he slides into the bench beside him. "Someone needed to do it soon."

"What," snaps Minho.

"You have a crush," says Ben, tugging on his hair exasperatedly. "A stupid schoolyard crush- which I don't even have memory of, but you're just so-"

"What Ben is trying to say," interrupts Newt. "Is that you like Y/n."

"What? No, I-"

"And," Ben cuts in. "Somewhere in that thick head of yours, your lovey-dovey feelings are fighting with your denial and causing this." He gestures vaguely towards Minho.

"I don't know what you're talking about," retorts Minho.

"Of course not," says Ben flatly. "But now that we've told you, it should only be a matter of time."

"I mean..." Newt struggles for a second, before giving up, shoulders sagging. "Yeah, Ben's summed it up pretty well."

⭒----⭒

A crush? There's no way. Minho frowns to himself, lost in thought as he walks out of the shower block.

The Glade is in the best time of the day right now. It's when everyone's wrapping up the day's work and hitting the showers, before waiting around for dinner.

Minho's showered early today, so the dining area just has a few people idly sitting around chatting. He nods at Newt, who makes eye contact with him across the dining area and starts walking over.

Newt stops though, as someone else slides into the bench across from Minho. It's you.

Minho widens his eyes at Newt, who simply grins and turns to sit somewhere else.

Fine. Minho sighs internally, turning to you. "Y/n, hey."

"Hey," you greet, flicking your hair back. You've got a small towel resting on your shoulders to keep your clothes dry while your hair's still wet. Minho notes this information for no particular reason.

"Listen," you say, leaning forward intently. Pretty. The thought crosses Minho's mind without his consent. You look clean, fresh out of the shower, sunset casting your face in a warm glow. Nope, no way this is happening.

"Uh Minho, ya with me?"

" 'course," he responds quickly. "What's up?"

You grin, clearly seeing through him, but you continue anyway. "So, Ben tells me the forest around the Runners' hut is really pretty. Flowers and all. Is that true?"

"Yeah," says Minho. "The pond is nice too."

You hum, nodding in thought. "Take me sometime?"

"Yeah, sure," says Minho.

You know what, shuck it.

"Do you wanna go now?" he offers, resolve clicking inside him.

Minho's heart picks up at your smile, beaming at him. "Yeah, let's go."

⭒----⭒

"I can't believe you've never been here," says Minho, standing with his hands in his pockets as you wander around the forest.

"I can't believe no one ever brought me here," you reply. "It's beautiful."

"Yeah..." He trails off, watching you bend and smile at some purple orchids. "...beautiful." Fuck.

"Can I be honest with you, Minho?" he hears you ask.

"Of course," he responds, leaning on a tree.

"I was kinda worried," you begin, still looking down at the orchids. "That you didn't like me, or something."

Minho's eyebrows fly up. "Wh-"

"I just- I wanted to clear it up. Cause you seem like a cool person, and I'd like for us to be... friends." You sound uncertain, and Minho feels like an absolute shit.

"No!" As your head whips up, he hastily continues, "I mean, yes, of course, just-"

He groans. "It's my fault, I'm just- I was stupid. An idiot, actually. I've been-"

You've got a confused expression as Minho huffs out a frustrated sigh. "It wasn't anything like... what you're thinking. I just had some other feelings- thoughts, in the way. And I guess it came off like I didn't like you. But I do. I like you a lot," he admits.

You let out a soft laugh. "I'm glad. I didn't want it to be," you gesture vaguely. "Ya know."

Minho smiles, and seems to shake himself slightly, nodding towards a tree near the Runner's hut. "Come check out these ones."

He leads you to a tree with white flowers peeking through the leaves.

"Hey, Minho."

"Yeah?"

"What'd you mean 'other feelings'?"

Um. "What?" He asks nervously.

"You said there were 'other feelings' in the way. What did that mean?"

"Just... in general," he says weakly. "Feelings, thoughts. Etcetera."

You frown slightly at him, confused, but you're distracted as he reaches up to the tree.

"These're Ben's pride and joy," he says idly, plucking one of the flowers. "A damn pain to grow at first, but now they just bloom on their own."

You swallow as he turns to you, holding up the flower.

"Here."

Your heart beats fast as he steps into your space, and tucks the flower into your hair, behind your ear.

Neither of you move. Minho's hand is still hovering at your cheek, your face tilted up to meet his eyes, open and earnest.

Oh. Oh.

You break first, ducking your head down. "So, uh-"

"Yeah," says Minho, hand rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously.

He takes a deep breath. "So I, uh- I don't know what I'm doing, like... at all. Ya know, Ben and Newt had to sit me down and... whatever. I just- I like you," he confesses in a rush. "And I know I've done a shucked job of showing it, but I really, really like you."

You huff out a laugh, incredulous. "Minho, I like you too. That's mostly why I wanted to get closer to you."

"Oh," says Minho. "Well... do you think we could go on a date sometime? Maybe here, with the flowers. We could do dinner?"

You smile. "Yeah, I'd like that."

"Great," says Minho, grinning in a way he knows looks stupid (he doesn't care). "Cool.

"I guess we should be getting back, then." Minho gestures back to where the Glade is probably eating dinner now.

"Yeah," you agree, starting off behind him.

"Minho?" He turns at your voice, looking down at the hand you've extended, palm-up.

As he puts his arm out in the same way, slightly confused, you slip your hand in his, interlocking your fingers. You see his wide grin as you glance to your side.

"Hey, Y/n, think that date can be tomorrow?"

"Yes, absolutely."

Went full teenager throwback for this one - the awkwardness is tangible

Thanks for reading <3 Requests are open as always :)

#the maze runner #minho x reader #tmr minho x reader #tmr minho #my writing

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oneforthemunny · 7 months

Note

I just got my period and woke up covered with n blood. How are the Eddie’s reacting to waking up before you and noticing the blood?

i don't really think any of them would care at all tbh. more so like look down and be like "babe, you bled." and move over lol.

janitor!eddie would really be worried that you would be embarrassed bc he knows that happens. he'd try to like hide it in a way lol, and get you out of the sheets so he could clean them before you saw (he's kinda clueless but the sweetest).

rockstar!eddie would not give one single shit. not one. "you've pissed on me before, this is nothin'." and rolls over. to be fair, he's a rockstar in the early 90s? lived on a tour bus for months at a time with boys? he's def seen worse.

older!eddie is so unfazed by any bodily fluid bc he's a dad. like he's experienced them all. you're embarrassed, scared he's gonna be disgusted and weirded out like guys of the past have been, but he's like "don't worry. i can get the stains out. it's not a big deal." because he genuinely thinks you're upset that your pajamas and the sheets stained.

mafia!eddie is so used to blood, he just strips the bed and gives it to the maid. "i can do it, eddie-" "she's seen it before. she won't even know the difference if it came from you or me, promise. you want a bath?"

bouncer!eddie doesn't even notice. honest to god, does not even notice bc he thinks it's just another stain in his sheets, and thinks it's probably been there before lmao. like the one thing he would notice is when you start acting weird and he's like???? what's up???

cowboy!eddie always gets up before you, so when he sees it, he moves you and strips the bed. tries to clean you up too but you wake up and freak and he's like .... "it's just blood. i'll put some peroxide and baking soda on the sheets and they'll be alright." "yeah but it's my blood from... from my period, ed." "ok? i've had it on me before?" (big fan of period sex because it makes you feel better... definitely not bc he's filthy and kinky lol).

modern!eddie and dom!eddie have similar reactions to bouncer!eddie. it's just another stain and it's cool. "this mattress has seen worse. promise."

#oneforthemunny #munnytalks #rockstar!eddie munson #mafia!eddie munson #older!dilf!eddie munson #bouncer!eddie munson #janitor!eddie munson #cowboy!eddie munson #modern!eddie munson #dom!eddie munson

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thatturtleleon · 7 months

Text

TFP reacting to you coming to the base with an injury (more specifically a leg injury)

Authors note: I may or may not have fell through my porch (stop laughing how dare you) and injured my leg rly bad, i am in pain lol and this is how im coping

Optimus Prime/Ratchet:

Optimus was working and discussing something with Ratchet when they saw you hobbling towards the stairs like some elderly person

Immediately asked what was wrong and if you're alright

You nod and wave it off as nothing, but your hesitation to walk up the stairs said otherwise

Once they realize something's up with your leg, Ratchet quickly goes into medic-mode and Optimus wants to know what happened, how it happened, and if your ok

Now you have two old bots asking a billion questions at once

After you've sat down on the bottoms steps and reassure them you're alright, you explain what happened

Both of them are like :0

Ratchet goes into medic-mode AGAIN, grumbling something along the lines of "how have humans survived this long" and "cannot believe humans use wood for architecture when it's such a safety hazard"

Optimus is calmer now knowing that you're ok, but still watches as Ratchet makes sure you're 100% not dying

Eventually they settle down, and lift you up very carefully to the couch area where you can rest

Don't you even THINK about touching those stairs.

Bumblebee:

Freaks out for a second

*panicked beeping noises* "WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU FELL THROUGH THE FLOOR WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR LEG ARE YOU OK!!??"

You calm him down, explaining that it was just your leg that went through and all you got were a few splinters and some nasty scratches

He'll do whatever he can to make you feel better

Video games? Absolutely !! TV? Yes ! Taking you on a drive? Yesyes

Figures that if he keeps you busy (but off your leg), it'll distract you from the pain

and it works, but you do eventually need to rest and he'll be there if you need help with anything

Arcee:

"You what"

Kind of the same reaction as bumblebee but 10x calmer (at least on the outside)

On the inside she's worried bc you just told her you hurt your leg, yet you're WALKING still (wouldn't even call it walking, more like shakily limping around)

Arcee's not gonna baby you but she is gonna make sure you're ok throughout the day

Which means she's probably gonna stick by you a lot more

You don't mind it though, the two of you chat and chill most of the time

If she has to go on a mission while you're still recovering, she'll put you on the couch in the base and says if you even think about moving she'll fuck up your other leg (not really ofc but her "arcee-ness" tone makes you listen anyways)

Bulkhead:

Sweet bot i love him so much <33

You explain what happened in great detail and if cybertronians could get queasy, he would most definitely be

If Miko was there she would be all ears though LMAO

"Was there a lot of blood???!!!" "MIKO!"

Ofc asks if you're ok and how long it'll take until you get better

Probably'll ask Ratchet or June if he can do anything to help, and June says to make sure you change your bandages every few hours, and put medicine on so there's no risk of infection

Bulkhead states that humans need to be wrapped up in what the kids called "bubble-wrap" 24/7

Ratchet agrees

#i started writing this a few days ago so my leg is doing much better but my skin issues r not helping with the healing process lol #the giant hole in my porch is mocking and cackling at me #transformers #tfp #transformers prime #tf #maccaddam #macaddams #tfp hcs #transformers prime hcs #tfp bulkhead #tfp ratchet #tfp optimus prime #tfp miko #tfp bumblebee #tfp arcee #tfp x reader #platonic or romantic idc its up to you lovely reader

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desswright29 · 2 months

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Contains: Petty Argument, Overreacting reader, Overprotective Shuri, Bratty reader, Angry Shuri/reader, Reader testing the fuck out of Shuri’s patience, apologetic reader. Smut (18+), Sub Shuri 🫦, (I was inspired lol) Reader has PTSD from her past abusive relationship. A/N: This is in the “Shame” universe. I just felt like writting. So this is a side quest as I write PTV. I hope y’all enjoy! Also this shit is not edited. Read at your own risk lmao.

“Mholo ngalentsasa, umfazi wam.” Your wife’s voice was soft, slightly raspy with sleep this morning. You sensed an aggitated apprehensiveness in her tone, even in your groggy state. Her back was to you as she sat in the lounge area of the bedroom, eating a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch while watching the news. Your vision was still blurry, eyes sensitive to the amount of sun shining into the room, as you stare at the back Shuri’s head from the bed.

“Good Morning baby, are you eating cereal? I was going to cook breakfast for us.” You stretch, becoming more aware of your surroundings, and most importantly of your body, you recognize the pounding headache at your temples and the aching in your bones.

“It is just after noon, 12:02 to be exact, and you sweet girl, are sick.” Your eyes bulge at her revelation of the time.

“Afternoon!” You shot up fast, and was immediately hit with an overwhelming dizzyness that forced you to lay back against the headboard. You were in denial about the final part of her statement, even though your body ached from head to toe, you had the sweats, and your head was pounding. But, you were on tour and had no intention of canceling tonight’s show.

She glanced at you over her shoulder. “Take it slow, my love. You tossed and turned all night, running a fever. I had Griot check your vitals and your fever got dangerously high. I was up all night making sure you were alright. You’ve been sweating a lot so you need to hydrate.” Hesitance laced her tone as she stared ahead at the television. Your face was plastered all over the news. Fans already lined up outside of the arena waiting to see you perform. “I think that it would be best if you cancelled tonight’s show, no?” Shuri knew that her advice would not be well received, and braced herself.

“Uh no! Shuri you should’ve woke me up. I’m not canceling my show! Now I’m gonna be rushing.” You try standing only for your body to reject it. Landing right back onto the bed. Shuri’s chin dropped to her chest, pinching her nose trying not to allow her frustration to over power her rationale.

“Sthandwa, it’s been weeks. You’re over due a break. I told you this was going to happen and that you need to slow down.” Shuri spoke with her usual calm demeanor. Trying to keep you from going into a panic.

“I have!” Your voice went up an octave as you lied to no one except for yourself. Shuri threw her arm over the back of the couch, finally turning to look at you fully “No. You have not.” She rebutted. You roll your eyes sitting on the side of the bed. You notice the lounge wear you wore to bed had been changed. You were sure that was courtesy of your thoughtful wife.

“Uuuuugghhh Shuri. Please. I don’t have the energy for this.”

“Right. That is exactly my point. How do you plan to do a show in your condition ubusi?” Shuri cocked her head to the side as she waited for an answer that would make sense.

“I’ll take something for the pain and fever, go back to sleep for a couple of hours, and I’ll be ok when I wake up.” Shuri placed her half eaten bowl onto the table, getting up to walk over to the bed. She got on one knee in front of you. Grabbing one of your hands and lifting your chin with her other.

“No you won’t. Baby, your body is exhausted, it can only take so much more. I’ve been medicating you all night. It keeps coming back. You need rest. You have to know when to take a break, or this lifestyle is going to break you.” You groan in defiance.

“I understand you mean well Shuri but I have an obligation to my fans. If I cancel tonight it’s going to complicate everything. We’ll have to refund everyone. Pay a fine to the venue…and damnit I just want to perform! It’s Madison Square Garden for Bast sake!” You whined. You leaned forward catching your head in your hands in frustration. Shuri rubbed your arm comfortingly.

“Don’t stress yourself. I understand. I know you love what you do. You put a lot of hard work into it, and I admire that. But, Thando you’re taking your body through a lot of physical strain. Training with the Dora, learning your duties as consort, and actively on tour. It’s physically impossible for any human.”

“You have more on your plate than I do. And you’re doing just fine!” Shuri, being true to the patient woman that you married, continued being calm during your temper tantrum.

“Bambo’lawami, while I am human, I have a bit of an advantage here. I should hardly be the determining factor for your work ethic. You need to let something go.” If Shuri only knew where her statement would take this, she would immediately swallow those words. Your head jerks back as you look down at Shuri, chuckling though very unamused.

“OOOOh, ok… I’m getting it now. Is the career I built getting in the way of my duties for Wakanda?” You raised a brow as Shuri mimicked your prior movement, her head jerking back in confusion.

“What? That has nothing to do with what I said.”

“No. But, it has everything to do with what you implied.” You say, your words laced with spite.

The creases in her forhead increased with each word that came from your mouth.

“Sthand-“

“Don’t fucking SthANdwa me. I already know what you’re gonna say. ‘You are being unreasonable Entle, I only want what’s best for you.’ When we both know that this your way of introducing the idea of me giving up my career, so that I can play the submissive Queens consort? Walk to the right and two steps behind you!?” Shuri sat back on her haunches, completely taken aback. She snickered.

“Are you for real? I-“ Your hand comes up, placing it directly into your wife’s face. She bit into the corner of her bottom lip. A sneer appearing on her upper, as her nostrils flared.

“I don’t want to hear shit you have to say. I’m doing this and every other show I have scheduled for MY tour. I’m not giving up who I am and what I’VE built to play small and be your little wife.” You go to mush Shuri’s face but her hand quickly grasped your wrist placing your hand gently back onto the bed.

“Whoa. You’re loosing it Nkosazana. Dont put your hand in my face. Don’t ever disrespect me like that.” Her pointer finger came up, centered between your eyes.

“And what are you gonna do?” You say swatting her hand away. She removed her hand before you could make contact. You place your hand back into her face and she swats it. The two of you go through this back in forth for a moment until frustration takes over and you catch Shuri off guard pushing her away from you making her land on her butt.

“Y/n what the fuck are you doing!?” Shuri’s voice became high pitched as confusion took over her. She remained seated on the floor.

“My intent is not to start an arguement with you. You’re stressed and not feeling well. Apparently, you have some other unrelated issue with me, that we should discuss at a better time. Because, no way you’re taking my concern for your health as some sort of power play.” The statement came out as a question.

“Yup.” You say crossing your arms and rolling your neck.

“Y/n.”

“Yuuup.” You say more aggressive. Shuri squinted her eyes a smirk turning up one of her cheeks.

“Yea?”

“Yup” You repeat.

“Childish.” You shrug staring at her waiting impatiently for whatever it was she had to say. Quietly, her eyes scan over your body. Had it been any other time, or had you felt better the look on her face would’ve folded you like origami. However, now you had an unwarranted point to prove. Just because Shuri was a sexy, domineering goddess didn’t mean you were going to drop everything for her. You built your image without her and planned to maintain it. You were a Queen in your own right before marrying Shuri, this was your shit!

“It seems as though we’re past not arguing.” You cock your head to the side with all the attitude you can muster, as Shuri stands to her feet, clenching her jaw.

“Llisten, Your health at the moment is what matters to me. That is all this is about.”

“Puh’ lease, you been on this shit. Does my success make you insecure Shuri?” You continued pushing your invalid point. Shuri closed her eyes.

“Bast, I’m trying to keep my composure.”

“And if you loose it?” You raise a brow continuing to challenge Shuri. She stepped forward Jaw clenched.

“You want to act like a child, y/n? Fine, I’ll treat you like one. If you so much as think about going to that show tonight, I’m going to hunt you down and drag your little ass back into this house and chain you to the bed. Do you understand me?”

Your mouth dropped, a sudden burst of energy hit you as you lept to your feet standing on the bed in an attempt to over power Shuri.

“Who the fuck you think you talking to?!!” Shuri snorted turning to walk away.

“The only person confused in here is you. I guess the 103 degree fever you were running was boiling your brain cells. I’ll be happy to remind you who YOU are speaking with. We maybe consorts but I rule over you. Calm yourself.” She punctuated her sentence jabbing her finger in your direction. “You’ve gotten beside yourself. I’ll shut the fucking city down before I let you leave this house thinking it’s ok to distrespect me the way you are. The only point I’m making is that you’re running that beautiful body of yours into the ground. And it’s going to give way mama.” At this point you were relentless.

“Ha! Oh that’s cute kitten.” Shuri shook her head chewing on the insides of her cheeks. Confused at how you even got to this point. She’d made her way back to the sitting area plopping down onto the couch. You followed. “Be serious, your intimidated because I’m not one of these thirsty bitches that need you. I’m good on my own and I could have just as much without you and your trying to ta-“ Shuri shot back to her feet. Making her way to you in a few long strides.

“I DONT GIVE A FUCK ABOUT YOUR LITT-.” Shuri tried stopping herself before playing into this foolish argument, but it was too late. You had shook her calm front, and cut her off.

“There it is!! There the fuck it is! Show yourself!”

“EVERYDAY! Y/n EVERY FUCKING DAY I go out of my way making sure you’re happy and ok. And you think I would wait until you were ill to push some dumb ass agenda I’ve been hiding onto you.” You stare at her unyielding in your point. Shuri stepped back chuckling, She threw her hands up in surrender.

“You know what. Fuck it. Do as you please! Fuck me for giving a shit about my wife. Go risk your LIFE to dress in a strip of fabric and clap your ass in front of an a arena full of strangers. I’m done!” You smirk.

“Proved my point.”

“Discussion over.”

“I bet it is.”

“OVER!” Your eyes connected with Shuri’s. Though you may not have been very connected with your own limits. You knew Shuri’s. So you chose to heed her warning. You stomped around the room collecting your things while Shuri sat slumped on the couch attending to business on her Kimoyo beads.

“I’m going to wait for the car at Bruno’s and I’ll stay with my sister after my show.”

“Do what you gotta do.” Her voice had gone down an octave, raspy and tired. Your aching body wanted so bad to go over, fall into her lap, and let her nurse you back to health. But, the stubbornness in you, the part that was afraid to rely fully on Shuri or anyone because of your checkered past relationships, pressed on.

“Eat a dick.” You say calmly before snatching open the door, and slamming it as hard as you could behind you.

“Tuh.” And a snicker was Shuri’s only reaction. Her nonchalance only a weak bandage for the wound you’d just caused her.

Shuri was in a bad mood. It was apparent in her stifling demeanor as she swaggered backstage. Her lack of sleep, the heated argument between the two of you, and pure worry for her wife drove her to an astute level of unapproachable. Her shades hid her frustrated eyes, but her demeanor was not to be misunderstood.

She’d tried getting some rest, tried staying away and letting you do your thing. But, even when she was pissed at you her love and protective instincts for you would always over power any anger. So, after stubbornly tossing and turning on the couch, and stomping through the house mumbling angrily to herself, after her failed attempt at sleeping. She decided to take a shower, and then she found herself getting dressed, grabbing keys, and heading in the direction of Madison Square Garden in the Royal Talon.

You were halfway through your set, as she walked over to the wings. Your tour Manager Wayne stood watching intently, until he felt the presence of the Queen approaching. Shuri saw his shoulders visibly tense as she walked up beside him.

“Why do you look nervous Wayne? Is there a reason you would need to be cautious around me?” She never made eye contact. Just leaned her shoulder onto a pillar, crossing her legs at the ankle, staring out onto the stage.

“N-no I-“ She cut him off, not having the patience to beat around the bush.

“Tell me, have you seen my wife today?”

“Uh, Well yes.” Shuri’s jaw tensed as she nodded, somehow the shades covering her eyes made this moment even more frightening for the man. The lights from the stage casting a red glow over her.

“Really? Because if you had. You would know that she is in no condition to be on that stage tonight.” Her head turned slightly to the right of her where Wayne stood shifting on his feet.

“She said she’d be good by show time. E-everyone was already here I-I couldn’t cancel. I was just doing as she sa-“

“Isn’t apart of your job to make sure that my wife is in good health. Does it not matter if the artist is well? Or are you just worried about your check? Because, I can get you your check, and it’ll be the last. Was this one show worth your job Wayne?” Shuri raised a brow, and a sarcastic smile spread across Shuri’s face.

“I’m so-“ The shivering teary eyed man began.

“Shuri!” Dani marched up standing in between the two of them. Interrupting the tense moment.

“Wayne, go gather yourself. I hear the Queen is on a little power trip because she can’t control my sister. She’ll get over it.” Shuri scoffed as Wayne rushed off.

“I heard you were here terrorizing the staff because y/n went through with her show. Lay off it Shuri! This is a sold out show at Madison Square Garden! You’re not about to mess this night up for her.”

“Me! Mess it up! Dani have you even seen your sister up close for the past couple of weeks!? She’s fucking exhausted. She’s pushing herself entirely too hard.”

“So, she has to give up her career?!”

“WHO THE FUCK IS SAYING THAT! Demethi! You two are definietly related. She JUST NEEDS A BREEAAAAAK! From EVERYTHING! GAHDAMN!”

“I think she knows her limitations. She’s putting on a flawless show. You can’t control-“

“I don’t -…. You know what Dani, It’s best if nobody says shit to me tonight. I’m here to ensure my wife’s safety. Keep the rest.” Dani rolled her eyes.

“Whatever.” She said as her and Shuri stood silently watching the show.

She watched your body move, as you sang effortlessly. The truth was, Shuri loved watching you in your element. The joy in your face, the sound of your voice. How you lost yourself becoming an entirely different being on stage. She loved even more the private shows she got after a show was over, the both of you all riled up. You, from trying to turn your wife on while onstage. Her, from you succeeding. Yea. After show sex was Shuris favorite. A smirk found it’s way to Shuri’s lips as she thought about your escapades. She didn’t want to argue. She just wanted you to be ok, and she couldn’t rest until she felt that you were. Taking something that you loved and excelled at would have never crossed Shuri’s mind, and it hurt her that you believed it would.

The show was coming to an end, and per usual it had been effortless. You did your final song. thanking your fans as the band continued to play you off stage. Shuri felt silly. Maybe she had overreacted. But, was she wrong? All she’d wanted was for you to be safe and healthy. You couldn’t be too mad at her for that. Could you?

The crowd roared as you did your signature strut off of the stage. The walk Shuri loved so much. Her eyes trailed over your body, starting at your feet, up to those thick thighs, your non existent waist, your beautiful bouncing breast, and then that gorge-. That’s when Shuri saw it, your face was pale, washed out. There was fear in your eyes as you approached the wings as fast possible. Shuri’s face dropped as you got out of view of the crowd. She stepped forward.

“Y/n, babe.” Your eyes met her shaded ones, and you made it to your wife just in time to wrap your arms around her neck and faint.

“Sis! Y/n!” Dani yelled, running to Shuri’s side. Jumping into action Shuri swooped the rest of your limp body up into her arms.

“Move!” She yelled as she made her way through the crowded back stage. Chaos, ensued as everyone realized what was happening. Shuri tried making it to the Talon fighter, everything she needed to nurse you conscious was there, but suddenly she felt you stiffening in her arms. She stopped in her tracks looking down at you.

“EVERYBODY GIVE HER SOME SPACE SHES SEIZING! Someone get me something to cushion her head!” She barked orders as people ran around trying to find ways to help, or just stood staring. She gently placed you on your side as your sister took off her jacket placing it under your head, as your body began jerking.

“It’s ok baby I’m here. I’m going to make sure you’re ok.” Medics rushed in with a gurney, directing everyone not to hover. Shuri lie on the floor above your head. Whispering words of encouragement.

“I got you baby. Hang in there. It’ll be over soon.” Once you stopped seizing, They moved into action. Hurrying to get you onto the gurney before you went into another seizure.

“Take her to the roof. I’m taking her home. We have whatever medical assistance she needs.” Shuri ordered as her and your sister ran beside the gurney. The Dora and your team followed close behind.

Once safely on the aircraft Shuri had you placed you in a bed. Her first goal to hydrate you. She’d noticed weeks ago that in your attempt to juggle everything you weren’t eating enough, or staying hydrated. Your body had been running on fumes. Not getting nearly enough of anything it needed. Food, water, or sleep. Not to mention all of the sweating you did in your sleep last night. She’d spoken on it several times, and she continuously went ignored. Now your body had finally caved. She worked on you silently. Cutting off the restricting clothes. Giving you fluids through an IV and placing a cooling pad over your body. A tear fell from her eye and she quickly wiped it away. She’d never forgive herself for not being more insistent on you canceling if something happened to you.

“Griot. Does she show any signs of injury?”

“Assessing damage Panther.” She waited patiently as Griot scanned your body. “Ikumkani wam shows no signs of injury.”

“Thank Bast.” Shuri breathed a sigh of relief.

You began to stir and Shuri stood to her feet walking over to your side. She held your hand as you opened your eyes.

“Hey there, pretty girl.” She says leaning in, gently caressing the side of your face.

“W-what happened?”

“You fainted, and had a seizure.” Your eyes widened before you averted your eyes.

“I’m not here for I told you so baby. I’m just happy you’re ok.”

A soft knock at the door interrupted the moment.

“Did I hear her talking?” Your sister walked in with Wayne trailing behind. “Girl thank God you’re up. You scared the shit out of me!” Your sister came over kissing your forehead.

“Yes we’re all happy to see you up. You gave us all quite a scare.” Wayne said. Your team stood outside of the door not wanting to overwhelm you. Shuri spoke up.

“I’m glad you all are here. I think this is a perfect time for me to voice how I don’t appreciate the complete disregard for my wife’s health. If it was my say all of you would be fired.”

“Shuri.” You say about to chastise her when she threw a look over her shoulder that let you know now was not the time.

“I’m being as nice as I have the patience to be right now….It’s been a long day. You all will postpone the tour for two weeks.” You gasp.

“Shuri that’s excessive! I alrea-” Shuri turned all the way around looking down at you from her seated position.

“I’m sorry sthandwa..Did that sound like a request? I should’ve went with my first mind and shut it down last night. However, this is your thing. So I deemed it necessary to run it by you first. But, since you don’t seem to know your limits I’ll be taking things into my own hands until you prove to me you can. And it’s not up for discussion.” She spoke firm staring directly into your eyes, and there was no room for argument. She directed her attention back to your team.

“Call the venues, get a price point on the fines and the date changes. Let me know. I’ll take care of it. Staff will also be compensated. Just get it done. All business is to go through me and me only for the next two weeks. Got it.” Everyone acknowledged her with a firm yes and she dismissed everyone to allow you to rest. With the exception of Dani, who decided to stay with the two of you to help out.

Shuri pulled up a document on her Kimoyo beads and began typing.

“What are you doing?” You ask

“Requesting that M’Baku take my place for the next two weeks. So I don’t overwhelm myself.”

She side eyed you and you looked away. She turned around to you grabbing your chin, turning your head back toward her.

“Ubusi, when I met you…It’s like….like I grew another limb. You became apart of me. Apart of my body, and If you’re not ok neither am I. I need you to take care of my body baby. There is no strength without rest.” You bite into your lip. Your wife always had a beautiful way with words.

“I understand. I’m sorry about earlier I-“

“Let’s not talk about that now. You need to get some rest. I’m not dismissing it. Just saving it for another time. Ok?” You nod and she softly kissed your lips.

For the next week you watched your wife take care of your business. You noticed how much attention to detail she had to have been paying to the way you ran things, before you got sick. She didn’t miss a beat. She made sure you ate, hydrated, and rested. Took meetings with venues and made sure your staff was paid, suggesting that they rest as well. You also noticed, that with all the care and love she was giving you, she was still a bit stand off-ish.

“Baby what’s wrong?” You’d find yourself asking constantly. She’d always rebut with, “Nothing my love, just a lot on my plate.” However, you knew better.

Her kisses were light and didn’t linger, she’d bring your meals, but, wouldn’t snuggle up, and eat them with you. And when you two went to bed she’d kiss your forehead and turn over away from you. You hated it!

The two of you still hadn’t talked about the argument. The more you thought about it, the more guilty you felt for overreacting. You’d gone entirely too far. You knew that you had really hurt her with some of your harsh opinions about how she felt about you and your career. Regret was as simple as you could put it, as you watched her handle the the career you built with all the love, just as you would. You had been wrong, and hurtful. And It was your turn to apologize.

Shuri pulled into the driveway. Taking a deep breath as she turned off the car. To be honest, home had been hard for her lately. She struggled with when to bring up the fact that you had hurt her. How did this part of your relationship go? Was she even allowed to be hurt? The two of you had never made it to this point. Shuri had always been the one ruining everything, and apologizing profusely. But, she’d fixed it. She was putting her best foot forward in this marriage. Being the best wife she knew how to be. She thought you’d known that. What was she doing wrong where you didn’t see?

She had been sitting in the car for 15 minutes. Meetings with your team, updates with the council, and checking in on her lab filled her day and she was ready to get some rest. Finally she decided to get out. Her energy was heavy as she walked to the front door placing her key in the lock. Stepping inside of her home she was immediately met with red and gold rose petals. Large glass vases filled with long stem roses, and candles led a path to a table beautifully set for two. You sat on the table, legs crossed in your sheer black floor length dress, breast on display with an edible arrangement settled on your lap, with the words sorry carved out in pineapple. A huge teddy bear that read “I love you” sat in the corner and balloons with apologies written all over them, littered every corner of the room. But over top of your head were huge balloons that individually spelled. IM SORRY. In case she wasn’t getting the message.

Shuri was stuck, speechless at the door. The last time you’d done something this beautiful for her was when you proposed. The thought brought tears to her eyes, as she took it all in.

“I know grand gestures and elaborate apologies are usually your thing. But, I thought I’d take a jab at it this time.” Shuri chuckled as a tear fell down her cheek. You looked at your beautiful wife. Today she was apparently feeling her femininity. A jean dress that hugged her silhouette so perfectly graced her beautiful body. Her braids were adorned with golden string, and her makeup was perfection. You couldn’t help but think that you were a lucky women.

“You look beautiful, Sweet Lady.” She look down slightly and you could tell she was trying to hide her blush. It brought a smile to your face.

“I promise I didn’t over exert myself. Dani helped with dinner, and I had a few other hands with helping me get all of this set up, before I kicked everyone out.” You stood from the table placing the edible arrangement onto it. You reach out your hand to her. “Come here.” Shuri made her way to you, heels clicking against the marble floors. When she was close enough you grabbed her hands.

“Baby I’m sorry. For a lot of things. But, first of all for putting my hands on you. I was delirious. I am fully aware we don’t operate that way. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you, and that I made things more difficult than they had to be. And most importantly, I’m sorry for the things I said. I know I have a habit of putting my guard back up in certain areas of my life out of protection for myself. I recognize I don’t have to do that with you. I recognize how ungrateful and entitle I’ve been. Overlooking your effort. I do see you. And I’m very appreciative of the work you put in for us.” Shuri sniffles looking down at her feet. You lift her chin slightly so that her eyes can meet your own again. She bit into her lip, her low eyes connecting with yours.

“I can see that I hurt you, and I hate it. I wish I could take everything I said back because I didn’t mean it in the slightest. Those weren’t words meant for you, and who you’ve shown yourself to be to me. I let the past infiltrate what we have now, and for that I truly apologize Shuri. So, if you give me the chance, I can be better at showing you how much I appreciate you. I know you know I love you. I’ll forever be in love with you. I don’t want to mess us up either. Your love is wonderful, and I don’t want to loose you.”

Shuri had tears streaming down both of her cheeks now. You use the pad of your thumb to wipe away the tears. Finally, the two of you step into eachothers arms. “I love you sthandwa, I’m giving this all I got.” She finally says. The softness in her tone almost broke you.

“I know baby. And you’re perfect.” you say wrapping your arms around her neck as she buries her face into yours. She picks her head up, placing her forhead to yours staring into your eyes.

“I miss you.” She says. You nod. Knowing exactly what she means.

“I miss you too. Can I kiss you?” You ask. She nods.

You close the distance and give your wife a long lingering kiss for the first time in days. Your lips slide against eachothers longingly. Passionately. This woman would forever be your heart. Your everything.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper against her lips.

“I forgive you, baby.” She responds.

“I need to touch you Shuri. Can I touch you please mama?” Another request came from you against her lips. She moaned her reply into your mouth. One of your arms slipped from around her neck. Gliding down her clothed chest to her abs, to the hem of her form fitting dress. You hike up her dress, your fingers brushing against her silk lined clit, her body shivered against your touch as she stepped further into you. Her mouth gapped open at the sensation, as you rubbed up and down against her.

“It feels like you need me to touch you. But, you won’t tell me what you need beautiful.” Shuri’s knees buckled a bit as she backed you against the table.

“Uh uh, calm down panther. I want to take care of you. Tell me you need me.” She panted against your mouth as you stroke her bud. “Uhn. I-I need y-you please baby.” You smirk against her lips. “Good girl.”

Shuri moaned, as the two of you switch positions Shuri now pressed into the table.

Your kissing became more intense. Pressing her up against the table, she lifts your dress as you firmly plant your thigh between her muscular legs. Shuri whimpers quietly, grabbing the back of your head and kissing you voraciously. Your bodies heave together, squirming, and writhing. Your thighs intertwined as you hungrily rub her vulva over her panties.

She pulls you as close to her as possible, her nails unconsciously digging into your back. You pull away from her mouth, and begin kissing her neck. Sighing as she tugs on your hair.

“I need you Shuri.” You say as you find the zipper at the back of her dress. Slowly unzipping her dress, pulling it down her shoulders. “I need you in my life. To be loved by you. To touch you. To taste you. I love you so much.”

Your hand finds her breast under a sheer, silky bra. You feel her nipple poking through the soft fabric, and take it between your two fingers, massaging it slowly.

“Fuck y/n.” She whispers, her hips continued to rotate on your thigh, her head thrown back eyes closed in concentration.

Wanting to feel her skin, you unhook her bra and let it fall off of her shoulders. Taking her small perky breast in your hand, you caress it softly, tracing circles around her nipple. Giving each one equal attention.

“You’re so perfect. Beautiful and perfect. All of you.”

You take a nipple into your mouth and suck lightly, encircling, and kissing each one. Shuri begans frantically moaning trying to rub her self against you harder. You lightly run your fingers up and down her bare back.

“Tell me what you need pretty girl.” You whisper in her ear. “Tell me what I gotta do?” Shuri whimpers.

“Bast, I love it when you talk to me like that.”

“Mmm Daddy Panther wants to be my pretty girl tonight?” Shuri grabs the front of your dress. As her hips continue to grind against you.

“Ewe! Let me be your good girl.” Your core throbs at the pretty sound of her voice.

She sits eye level with you. You stare intently into her eyes taking her lower lip into your mouth, sucking as your hands slide gently down her sides, onto her thighs, and inside her panties.

She lets out sweet a little moan and buries her head in your neck. She breathes heavily on your skin as you gently rub her mound, pressing hard against her clit. Your finger slides between her lips to find her slick and wet, her clit rock-hard.

“Ndive kamnandi (make me feel good)” Her body shivered against yours.

“Whatever you want baby girl. Whatever you want.”

You continue, rubbing on her clit, with calculated strokes soft, slow, up, down.

“Please baby I need more. Uhn I want to cum for you sthandwa.”

She grips the back of your neck tighter as she lets out a breathy shudder. You move your fingers in and out of her pussy. You felt her ridges squeezing against your fingers as her hips meet your thrust. Your thumb rubbed delicate circles on her clit as tears began to run down her cheeks.

"Yes baby right there!” She says. You start pressing hard against the upper wall of her pussy. She nearly collapses from this intense sensation. Her thighs shaking beneath you.

“Ooohh fuck me y/n. You make me feel so fucking sexy.” Your mouth was agape as you watched Shuri bounce against your fingers. She looked more erotic than you’d ever seen her before dress bunched at her waist. Sweat begining to glisten over her beautiful breast, and one of her toned legs thrown over your shoulder, her pretty feet still adorned in her heels.

“I could cum just looking at you right now Shuri. I can’t believe you’re mine. Fuuuck.”

Your arm supported her back so she wouldn’t fall as you brought her closer to the edge of the table. She tenses up against you now, squeezing you with both arms. A steady stream of the most beautiful sounds to ever exit Shuri’s mouth flowing into your ears.

“You’re close baby I can feel you. Give it all to me.”

The web of your hand pressed hard against her clit as your fingers pump in and out of her. You grab her clit between your middle and index fingers, pulling the foreskin up and down. A gasp escapes her mouth.

“Ahhhh fuckgiveitgiveittomegiveittome!”

Her words ran together as you continued to work her pussy. Teasing bringing her to the edge and slowing down because you didn’t want this to end. You loved seeing your powerful wife like this. Putty at the tips of your fingers.

By now your fingers are drenched and pruning. Beads of sweat appeared on her forehead, as she fell back against the table gripping the cloth. She's whispering under her breath for you to fuck her, growing more and more insistent. You were mesmerized. She began to stifle screams and you reach forward pulling a pineapple from the stick. Placing the S in sorry into your wife’s mouth.

“Here baby. That should keep that pretty mouth quiet.”

She bites into the fruit hard. It’s juices running down the sides of her face. “Uuuuuuhhhnnn.” She lets out a long moan muffled by the the fruit. You fuck her harder, as she drools, her back begining to arch off of the table. "I'm gonna come," she says breathlessly, her mouth still full. Her body begans twitching and convulsing uncontrollably.

"It's okay, l've got you baby. Give me that shit." You lean over whispering in her ear and kissing it lightly. A few more strokes to her G-Spot, your thumb circling her clit, and you finally let her release. She lets out a long, tremulous sigh, her eyes rolling back into her head before her whole body goes limp in your arms. She comes hard, her pussy clamping down on your fingers. Her warm cream coating your hand as you take out your dripping wet fingers. You suck her juices from your fingers and lean over her grabbing the bottom of the s of her pineapple with your teeth. Tearing it from her mouth and pecking her lips as she lay catching her breath.

You squat in front of her. Coming face to face with your work. Her panties soaking wet and rolled to the side of her fat pussy her clit jutting out between the lips. Quivering. Calling out to you. You place her heeled foot onto your shoulder and answered the call. Cleaning her up, sucking all the cum from her lower lips. And spitting it back into her clit before taking it into your mouth. Her hips buck upwards as she reached down holding your head in place.

“Too sensitive.” She says. You reach up moving her hand from your head holding it in your hand. “You can do it.” You kiss the tip of her clit and once again engulf it.

“Uuughhh!!” She lets out, as you suck up and down on her engorged clit. “Baby it’s too much.”

“She’s calling me Shuri.”

“Umphhh Fuuuck!” She says as you continue sucking her. You rub your face in it. Getting your face full of her juices. You felt Shuri tensing underneath you. Holding her breath.

“Breathe, baby. Deep breaths.” She tried following your instructions, and you felt the exact moment the pleasure took over body.

Her heels painfully dug into your shoulders, egging you on.

“Damnit! Y/n!” She yelled, as she let out huffs of breath. Breathing through the intense pleasure.

“Tell me you like it baby.” Your fingers reentered her sweet pussy as you ate her like your final meal.

“FUUUUUCCCCK! I love it. You drive t-this pussy crazy! Uuhhhnnn Bast! Get up! I gotta pee! I-I’m gonna e-explode!” You dive in fucking her harder sucking her faster. “Y/n, MOOVVVEE!” Her body writhed violently on top of the table anything that had been on top of it now long gone.

“EH!” A high pitched scream left her mouth as her body almost levitated into a seated position. Her eyes and mouth wide. She grabbed the back of your neck pressing you up into her pussy, as her hips began to thrust hard against your face. You felt a gush of liquid hit the back of your throat. Unattatching yourself from her you began to cough, only to go back in and suck some more of her. Letting Shuri cover your face in her essence. She slid from the table. Both of you falling to the floor. She landed on all fours. Pussy still hovering over top of your face. You lift up kissing it.

“Stop! Stop, stop.” She said shivering. She lowered her body between your legs laying on top of your chest, and you let out a hiss. She looked up seeing small holes left by her heels on your shoulders.

“Did I do that!? I’m so sorry babe.” You laugh.

“Trust me baby, I enjoyed it.” She leaned forward kissing, licking and sucking your sex injuries as you carressed the small of her back moaning from the feel of her mouth on you.

A wrapped gift caught the corner of your eye amidst all of the broken dishes and fruit on the floor. “Oh. I almost forgot!” Shuri hummed as she continued to tend to your wounds. You reach over grabbing the box. Tapping her back, signaling her to get up. She looks down at the box as she sits all the way up straddling your waist.

“What’s this?”

“Open it. You’ll see.” You giggle as she rolls her eyes. She removes the ribbon and wrapping paper. Opening the box to two diamond Catier bracelets.

“Apology diamonds” you say. “ They’re engraved.”She picked them up looking inside.

One read ‘For better’ the other read ‘For worse’.

Shuri looked looked into your eyes tears brimming. You smile.

“Forever baby.”

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