#no nvm I need heavy angst | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jisungsplatforms · 4 years ago

Text

Dahlia

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x gn! reader

Genre: angst; hanahaki au, non idol au

Warning: language, mentions of cheating, tiny tiny spoilers & allusions to some of my other fics if you squint hard enough. Some elements of Felix x reader (purely platonic tho)

Note: this does NOT portray Stray Kids’ true personalities. This is all purely FICTIONAL

*this is one of my longest fics i’ve ever written so sit back, relax, and enjoy the show.

(Based off of (G) i-dle’s “Dahlia)

(Page II)

Dahlia:

“Signifies a lasting bond and commitment between two people;

symbolizes elegance, inner strength , change, and dignity...”

Hwang Hyunjin is bad news.

He’s a player, he’ll leave once he gets bored of you.

Hwang is no good for you. You deserve so much better, Y/n.

That was all you heard ever since you started dating Hyunjin. Different variations of it, all with the same connotation. People warned you, left and right, whenever they saw you two together. But you didn’t care, you choose to love him anyways, despite the rumors you’ve heard about him. It was all...

...Blind love. Sure, you fall in love fast, and every single time, you’ve been cheated on; but you knew that he was different, you could feel it. You had faith in Hyunjin.

Today was your one year anniversary. You sighed at the calendar hanging on your wall, a vase with a single dahila (given by Hyunjin a few weeks ago) sat on a table beside it.

“Did you know back then, lovers used to gift their beloved dahlias as a sign of everlasting love and commitment?” Hyunjin said with a pretty smile, holding a bouquet of a dozen dahlias.

“Oh really now?” you giggled, taking the bouquet into your hands. “Are you trying to tell me something?” You tilted your head, your eyebrows raised playfully.

“Hmm. Only that I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” he cheekily said. “And that I will love you, and only you, even for the our next 100 lifetimes.”

You writhed in giddiness, touched by his words. “I can’t wait then,” you said, planting a soft kiss onto his plump lips, the two of you smiling into the kiss.

That was a year ago; 3 months into your relationship, probably the happiest year you’ve ever had. Every day with Hyunjin felt magical, like it was too good to be true. He was nothing but gentle with you. He held your hand as if you were glass. His eyes stared into yours as if you had the shiniest of diamonds for eyes. His beautiful smile always made your heart flutter, but his kisses was what really did the job. You thought that you could never had enough of him. You were his princess and he’s your prince charming.

But little did you know that the magic will soon wear off...

You stared at your phone in sheer disappointment.

Sorry, I can’t make it today. Something really important came up and I can’t miss it.

-was what was written on your screen, sent by your boyfriend. Bringing the phone closer to your face, you replied.

Really? You can’t skip it? Or even do it later?

Nope. Sorry, babe. There’s nothing I can do.

Oh...okay then.

Cheer up, babe. We’ll just go on a date on another day! I’ll make it up to you. Promise! :)

‘Go on a date on another day’ For some reason, reading that message shot a pang of hurt through your chest. To you, it basically implied that today was supposed to be just ‘another date’ for you guys.

Did he...forget that it’s our one year today? you thought sadly at the possibility as you put your phone down. Shaking your head, you tried to erase the negative thoughts from your mind. No no no, Hyunjin wouldn’t have forgotten. He was the one who even arranged the date! You held your cheeks in your hands. Sighing, you stood up to leave your bedroom to get a glass of water, feeling a heaviness to your chest. A million thoughts ran through your head as you made your way to the kitchen.

Is it possible that he really did forget?

Is he lying to me?

Am I just overthinking things again?

Or did he finally get...bored of me?

Looking back, you started to think about how lately, Hyunjin has been cancelling and rescheduling your dates. Every time you text him, asking him to come over, he’d reply with something along the line of “can’t i’m busy. sorry.” Of course you felt hurt, but you always told yourself, he’s a busy man. We don’t always have to be together.

And of course, you werent oblivious to how every month, the amount of dahlias Hyunjin used to give you slowly decreased. Once a dozen dahlias became only 8. 8 slowly became half a dozen. Then 6 became only 3. But you’ve convinced yourself that you didn’t need flowers to determine how in love you were, telling yourself how expensive live flowers actually are, so it makes sense he’ll end up giving less flowers. That’s it. That’s what you’ve conditioned your mind to think.

You’ve convinced yourself that Hyunjin truly is a good guy.

You didn’t even realize you were already in your kitchen until you felt yourself holding the cup to your mouth, the cool liquid making it’s way down your esophagus. You put the cup onto the counter, mindlessly staring at it. Maybe your were just overthinking things. That’s it.

Trudging back to the bedroom, you sat on the edge of your bed, sighing heavily, trying to contain the tears that were threatening to come out. Your lit up with a notification.

—

From Lixie Ramsay 🧑‍🍳🍽

—

Hey Y/n, are you feeling well?

Seeing a text from Felix, you grabbed your phone.

Not really. How’d you know??

Idk. I guess you can call it...best friend telepathy :D

You smiled, typing in another reply.

Well thank GOD for bsf telepathy cause I feel like shit rn.

Overthinking again?

Yes :(

Aww sorry to hear that dude :((

Wait. What happened with Hyunjin? Isn’t it your anniversary today?

Your heart ached at the message, the good mood you were slowly feeling again plummeted. Luckily, Felix noticed how long you were taking to reply to him.

Ah nvm... Anyways, I’m pretty much free rn so that meeaannnsss...I’ll take you out on a date instead!

Even though you were wallowing in misery, you couldn’t help but tease him.

You? Pass

How rude. And here I am being the greatest friend anyone could ask for, and you have the audacity to be picky?

Have fun with your pity party then, best friend

You sniggered at his reply. No no. I’m sorry I’m sorry, I’ll take up your offer LOL

Good. Be ready in about 20 mins. I’m coming over so we can go to the café together!

Okayyy :D

You got up and put on a nice, but comfortable outfit to go out in with your best friend.

You were just sitting on your couch, awaiting for Felix’s arrival when you heard a knock on your door.

“Y/n! It’s meee~!” came his loud, deep voice. You chortled as you got up from your couch, making sure everything was secured before going to your door. You opened it to see Felix’s bright smile greeting you.

You giggled, opening the door wider. “‘Sup, bro,” you nodded your head. Felix returned the gesture.

“‘Sup. You ready?”

“Yup! Let’s go.” Before you could get out of your house, Felix stopped you.

“Wait wait! I have something for you!” he lightly pushed you back inside. Only then did you notice that he was holding a single sunflower in his left hand. Your eyes widened a little, confused.

“What’s this?” you asked.

“A sunflower!”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Duh, I know that, but what’s it for?”

Felix beamed. “Well, I knew that you were feeling sad today, and I heard from someone that sunflowers are known as “happy flowers”, so I thought that I should give you one! To cheer you up!”

You looked at the flower in awe, incredibly touched by his gesture. “Lix...” you trailed off, feeling happy tears beginning to prick your eyes. You took the sunflower from his hands and stared at it, already feeling the positive vibes radiating from it.

“I know, I know. I’m the bestest best friend anyone could ask for. Now let’s go! I’ve been dying to try the carrot cake in that new café a few blocks down!” Felix said, sliding his arm to yours, “I heard that they have one of the best carrot cakes in town.”

You looked up from the flower to look at him, grinning. “Thank you so much for this, dude. I really appreciate it.”

Felix shrugged with a small smile on his face. “It’s the least I could do. Really.” He waited for you as you locked your front door, arms still linked, then making your way to go to the café Felix has been dying to go to.

The two of you walked together, catching up on each other’s current events going on in your lives, seeing how you weren’t able to for the past two weeks. Right now, Felix was telling you about a certain crush he has in one of his classes.

“Ooh, so, have you tried asking them out? Or even just told them that you’re interested or something, in the very least?” you wiggled your eyebrows. In response, he sucked in his breath a little. His face contorted in a slight grimace.

“I...tried to...” He said with his teeth clenched. You looked at him in puzzled.

“What do you mean ‘tried to’, Lix?” you asked. “It’s either you did or you didn’t.”

Felix sighed in embarrassment, his mind wandering back to the memory. “I sorta might’ve accidentally revealed that I liked them but sorta might’ve got embarrassed and accidentally took it back?”

“What?” you deadpanned.

“Okay okay. It’s dumb. I know. But they were so SO cute just talking, TALKING, and it just slipped out, I guess!” he said, exasperatedly. “I really couldn’t help it! Honest! So, I just panicked and covered it up by saying ‘I’m so lucky to have a friend like you'”

You looked at him blankly, slowly unlinking your arms. “Oh no,” you sighed, slightly shaking your head. “Oh baby nooo...”

“Yeah. I’m pathetic, I know.”

You hummed in pity, patting his shoulder. “A little, yeah, but it’s okay. Things like that happen, unfortunately. Don’t worry though, it’s not like it’s the end of the world,” you grinned, “You’ll have a lot more chances to actually confess in the near future.”

Felix nodded, crooning. “You’re right, Y/n. Thanks,” he said, giving you a hug as he gave you his well-renowned sunshine-like smile that you couldn’t help but smile back.

“No problem.”

Topic after topic, the two of you were so immersed in your conversation that you guys arrived at the café.

“Finally!” you cheered. “That was a surprisingly long walk.”

Felix sighed. “For real. But on the bright side: carrot cake!”

“Is the carrot cake even that good?”

“Dunno. Only one way to find out!” Felix walked a few steps ahead of you to open the door for you when he suddenly stopped. His whole body went rigid. In a blink of an eye, he turned around, gently pushing you away from the building. “Darn. What a shame, it’s full today. Oh well,” he frantically stated.

You glanced back behind him to check the inside yourself, only to see that it was only half full.

“What’re you talking about? There’s totally enough space for us. Let’s go.”

Felix’s face was full of dread. His body was stiff, his eyes shook a little as he maintained eye contact with you. He was nervous, and you could tell.

“You’re not okay. Is there someone in there you wanna avoid?” you said in urgency.

“Uhm. You could say that,” he murmured, looking down. Looking back up to see if there were any shifty looking faces that were in desperate need of a beating, your heart dropped in horror and dispair. Through the window, you saw Hyunjin, your boyfriend, sitting with a pretty looking lady. You watched them with woeful eyes as they smiled and laugh with each other. You couldn’t believe it, you didn’t want to. You wanted to believe that this was all a misunderstanding. You only snapped out of it when you felt Felix’s small, warm hands.

“Let’s-uh- let’s just go, yeah?” he said quietly. Nodding mindlessly, you let him lead to somewhere else. Anywhere but here. Felix rubbed your back, trying to give you any kind of hug he could give you as you walked away. You tried your best to push back the cough making it’s way to your throat. Good thing Felix was guiding you the entire way, others you would’ve fallen due to your blurry eyesight.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into your ear. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

It’s okay. You have nothing to apologize for, is what you wanted to tell him. But you couldn’t, for if you do, you might end up breaking down in the middle of the streets. You breathed heavily, containing both your tears and the pressure down in your chest and throat.

You snuggled closer to your thick blankets, trying to assimilate the warm you crave for from it. Felix was by your side, rubbing soothing circle to your back. You guys never went to go to another café. Instead, he led you home, seeing how it wasn’t the right time for you two to go out. You appreciated his gesture. It makes you wonder why can’t every guy be like your best friend, your brother, your soulmate. Felix let out a long exhale.

“Man, I-I’m sorry you had to see that, especially on your anniversary,” he soft said. Felix was furious, not only at Hyunjin, but himself as well. He felt like he couldn’t protect you, like he failed as your best friend.

“It’s okay, Lix. I’m fine,” you murmured. “Actually,” you paused, “I’m not fine. But you don’t have to apologize for something like this. This had nothing to do with you.”

“I know,” he sighed. “Im just frustrated, you know. I’m mad that you’re hurting like this.”

“Yeah me too,” you said emptily. “I just hope that this was just a misunderstanding.”

“He better damn well make sure that it’s just a misunderstanding,” he grumbled. “Otherwise i’m gonna have to settle some things with him. Hope he knows that i’m a black belt in Taekwondo.”

You snorted. “Thanks, Felix.”

“I will have a ‘chat’ with him. Mark my words.”

You laughed at him. You could faintly feel the angst in your heart lessen, but not completely go away. Hearing your front door unlock, you stiffened. You tried your best to not look at it.

“Babe! I’m here!” Hyunjin’s voice rang at the entrance. You felt Felix’s hold on your form tighten. Hyunjin walked closer to you two.

“Hey, Felix,” he said flatly. “didn’t know you were coming here.”

“Hmm.” Felix nodded his head, not even trying to make eye contact with the tall brunette. Hyunjin nodded back in annoyance.

“Anyways, you can leave now,” he sneered with his jaw clenched. “Your job is done. Now it’s my turn to spend time with my beloved.”

Both you and Felix tensed at his words. He looked down to look for your approval. Seeing your unsure nod, he hesitantly let go of you, watching you as he does so.

“It’s okay,” you mouthed to him. He made a sharp breath as he stood up, still refusing to look Hyunjin in the eye.

“Goodbye,” Felix called out, more to you than the other. You felt a sense of foreboding when you heard the door shut. From your side, Hyunjin let out a harsh groan.

“Finally,” he said, sitting down as he wrapped his arm around you. You couldn’t let yourself relax in his arms like how you’d usually to. You just felt uneasy in his presence right now. “So? How was you day? Missed me?” Hyunjin asked. You couldn’t take it anymore. You couldn’t bring yourself to pretend anymore.

“Are you cheating on me?” you more declared than asked as you sat up straight. Hyunjin’s eyes widened for a millisecond, a flash of fear in his eyes, but he just played it off.

“How could you accuse me of something like that?” he said, defensively. “I’m your boyfriend. Don’t you trust me?”

You bit your lip nervously. “I saw you, Hyunjin. At the café.” His face contorted in panic but quickly masked it as disbelief.

He scoffed, “Well you saw wrong, Y/n. That was just a friend, I would NEVER cheat on you.” He shook his head disappointingly, removing his arm from you. “I can’t believe that you would ever doubt me, babe. I’m actually really hurt by this right now.”

You felt a wave of guilt rush over you.

“Oh...I’m sorry,” you muttered. “I just thought-“

“You thought what? That the rumors were true?” Hyunjin laughed sarcastically. “Man, and here I thought that you were different.”

Your eyes teared up even more as the guilt inside your chest increased. Was I really wrong? you thought. “No! I’m-I’m sorry, Hyunie! I didn’t know! I just felt hurt because today was su-”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s okay. Let me just, be alone for a while, Y/n.” Hyunjin quietly got up and walked out of your house. You walked as he slammed the door on his way out, wrapping the blanket tighter around you. You were starting to regret letting Felix leave. The air around turn colder in your empty apartment.

It was supposed to be our one year anniversary, you thought, finally letting your tears out. And yet again, you tried controlling the tickling down your throat.

“He told you WHAT?” Felix exclaimed, looking at you incredulously. You had to shush him when you noticed some of the other people in the coffe shop giving you both tiny glares.

“He told me that it was just a friend that he had to me,” you said, quietly. “And that he would never cheat on me. He also said that felt hurt that I didn’t trust him, so I felt bad cause he did looked super upset.”

Felix rolled his eyes as he let out a sardonic “ha”. “That’s rich. Coming from him?” You let out a tiny pout.

“I don’t know, Lix. He seemed like he was telling the truth though?”

“Yeah, seemed, Y/n. I don’t know if you should trust him anymore. And besides, it even sounded like he was trying to make you feel bad instead of apologizing.”

“Well yeah cause-” Felix cut you off, holding up his hand to stop you from saying anything else.

“That’s gaslighting, bud. A huge red flag if you ask me. He didn’t even remember that it was your anniversary!”

Scrunching your eyebrows, you pondered upon Felix’s words. You knew he was right, but you really wanted to give Hyunjin the benefit of a doubt. All of a sudden, you felt a pressure in your chest. In need of relief, you coughed into the juncture of your arm. Felix winced in pity.

“Ooh, sounds nasty. You good there?”

You nodded as you continued coughing, giving him a thumbs up. Once you finish with your fit, you cleared your throat a little, grabbing the water bottle beside you to drink.

“Mhmm, yeah. Just a tickle, that’s all.”

“You sure? You’ve started coughing since yesterday,” Felix stated. “Are you sure you aren’t getting sick cause of the weather or stress or something?”

“Uhh nah. I don’t think so,” you said. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

Felix hummed, totally unconvinced by your reasoning. He knew deep down something was wrong; he just didn’t know what. It was quiet for a while until Felix up at the window and let out a little gasp. You raised your eyebrows at this, silently asking him what’s wrong. He glared a little at the window before turning to you.

“Hate to do this but look. Behind you, don’t make it obvious.”

You slightly turned your head to see what he was looking at. Your eyes widened. You saw Hyunjin and the same girl from 2 days ago, passing by at the other side of the window, hand in hand. You watched in disbelief as the girl tipped toed to kiss his cheek while he giggles. You quickly turned your head in the other direction to avoid him as they walked by, feeling the pressure in your chest worsen. It hurt even more when you remember the small bouquet of dahilas in her hands. You felt your eyes burning with tears, sucking in deep breaths. Turns out that that was a mistake.

You calming yourself back-fired. You ended up having a coughing fit; but it didn’t feel like any cough you’ve ever had. It felt way heavier, like you were almost suffocating. Bringing a fist to your chest, you pounded on it as if it would help. You didn’t know if the tears in your eyes was from the couch or seeing your bastard of a boyfriend. You couldn’t even open them so you opted to just keeping them shut .

“Y/n?!” Felix yelled out in alarm. You felt him come up behind you, rubbing your back. “Oh shit...” you heard him breathed out. You slowly opened your eyes and turned to him. He looked frantic, but he wasn’t staring at you, rather on the floor. You looked back to see dahlia petals on the floor.

Huh? you thought in bewilderment. Last time you checked, there wasn’t any plants in the shop, aside for the plastic Swiss Cheese plants in the corners of the place, if they even count at all.

Felix noticed your gaze on the petals. “That shit’s from you,” he pointed out. “We need to get you to a hospital. ASAP.”

You looked at him weakly. “But-“

“NOW, Y/n.”

“I- what?” you gasped in horror.

“You’ve, unfortunately, contracted the Hanahaki Disease,” the doctor announced in sympathy. Felix rushed you to the nearest hospital after your little scene. When you arrived there and told the receptionist at the entrance, she immediately paged you to the emergency room. You were scared. You didn’t know what was so urgent to rush you to an emergency room.

“Hantahapki? What the hell is that?” Felix asked, coming out rather aggressively. He was horrified; who wouldn’t be if they witnessed their best friend coughing out flower petals.

“Hanahaki,” the doctor subtly corrected, “It’s a rare disease that makes you cough out petals. Not many people gets it.”

Your heart beak was fast. If it was rare, then who knows what could happen.

“Okay, Hanahaki. So do you know how Y/n got it?”

The doctor removed her glasses and put it on the desk beside her. “Well, though it is a rare disease, we do know enough about it,” she declared. “The Hanahaki disease, fortunately, isn’t contagious and is only produced from unrequited love.”

You let out a shaky sigh. “So it is true. He doesn’t love me anymore,” you muttered. You felt the familiar pressure in your chest so you relieved yourself, petals spewing as you coughed. Felix immediately rubbed your back in alarm.”

“Is there anyway to treat it, doc?” he worriedly questioned. The doctor nodded.

“Yes actually. One option is for the patient’s love to be returned by the recipient,” your heart dropped a little hearing this “-or the other is to undergo surgery.”

“Surgery?” you both inquired at the same time.

The doctor nodded again. “Yes, surgery, our safest option. However, doing so will result in Y/n loosing all feelings of love altogether.”

“So what you’re saying is,” you said slowly. “-if I do the procedure, I won’t be able to love again?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Romantic love that is. You can still love people platonicly, like your friend over here,” she said gesturing to Felix. “Family and friends, basically. You just can’t have romantic feelings for anyone else, even if you really wanted to.”

You and Felix looked at each other in sorrow. “I,” Felix started off, “really think you should do it.”

You bit your lip as you shook your head. “I don’t know. This is a pretty big decision. Can’t I just, like, think about it for a while? Before I really decide if I want to do this?”

“Of course you can, Y/n,” the doctor said. “Just don’t take too long making a decision, okay? Because it will kill you, if you don’t decide on time.”

The two of you looked up at her in horror. “KILL?!”

She winced a little at your loud voices, prompting the two of you to apologize. “Yes, kill. Those aren’t just petals coming out of no where.” She gestured to the pile between the tree of you. “They have to produce somewhere. At first they’ll start of as a little bud, that’s why as of now, you’re only coughing out several petals each cough, eventually getting bigger and bigger until the flower in your lungs fully bloom, which could end up bursting out of your chest.”

Felix turned to you in pure terror, slightly shaking you. “I REALLY think you should do the surgery today.” You brushed him off of you.

“Okay yeah, that’s terrifying, but I won’t be able to love ever again, Lix!” you countered. He look at you like you were crazy.

“You won’t be able to feel ANYTHING if you don’t!”

You contemplated on the situation. You didn’t know what to do. The doctor interrupted your train of thoughts.

“Don’t worry, Y/n you have about a few weeks minimum to make a decision. Luckily you came to us the day you started coughing out the petals. Otherwise, if it happened earlier and you kept it to yourself, you might’ve...you know.” You shook your head in acknowledgment.

“Yeah. Okay, thank you, doc.”

It’s been 5 days since you’ve been to the hospital; 5 days you’ve been diagnosed with the Hanahaki Disease; 5 days since you’ve last seen Hyunjin.

You still weren’t sure if you wanted to undergo the procedure. Felix said that this was the best option, but you didn’t want to listen. You still had hope in your heart that maybe, just maybe, Hyunjin still loves you deep down. You heard your phone ding from the table. You picked it up and saw that is was from your “boyfriend”.

Hey! Haven’t seen each other in a while. Wanna talk?

Your heart sped up. You didn’t know if it was from excitement that he finally contacted you, or fear that you might end up finding out the whole truth. Your fingers typed out a reply.

Yeah, come over today. I’ve missed you

Liar, you thought to yourself.

Sure! See you soon!

You typed out your final reply, burying your face into the throw pillows.

A knock was heard from your door, signaling Hyunjin’s arrival. You tensed buy quickly calmed yourself down. You got up to let him in. You were greeted by his big smile, which you knew now was fake.

“Hey, babe! I’ve missed you!” he cheered.

Fucking liar. Putting one a fake smile, you said a quick “miss you too” and let him in. Closing the door, you gave yourself a mental pep talk before going straight to the point. You turned around to face him

“You’re cheating on me,” you stated, emotionlessly. You didn’t even say it as if it was a question, you knew. Hyunjin looked panic before composing himself.

“Again, Y/n? I told you, it-”

“I SAW YOU, HYUNJIN!” you cried out, not even containing your emotions anymore. “I SAW YOU OUTSIDE OF THE CAFÉ. I SAW YOU HOLDING HANDS. I SAW HER KISS YOU AND YOU DIDNT PUSH HER AWAY. IN FACT, IT LOOKED LIKE YOU ENJOYED IT.” You walked quickly towards him to push his chest.

“WHAT’S WORSE WAS THAT I SAW THE DAHLIAS YOU GAVE HER, A FLOWER THAT YOU SAID WAS SPECIAL TO US!” you fell to the floor, sobbing. The jig was up, Hyunjin knew.

“I trusted you Hyunjin...I really did. I even convinced myself that you weren’t like the rumors said,” you said weakly, already too tired to scream. “I love you. How could you do this to me?”

Hyunjin watched as you broke down. He didn’t know what to say; how to comfort you. He couldn’t even lie to you anymore. He felt bad for you. But he could’nt deny that he’s lost feelings for you.

“I’m sorry...”

Hearing this made you cry even more, you cradled your chest as you sank deeper to the floor. He didn’t even deny it. He didn’t even try comforting you. You heard his heavy footsteps leave your house, closing the door behind him. Your heart lurked even more. So this is it, you thought.

It hurts.

It hurts so fucking bad.

You were used to being cheated and lied to, so why did it? You clutched your burning chest, trying to regulate your breathing. More tears spilled out of your eyes.

It was because you genuinely loved Hyunjin.

You couldn’t take it anymore, you started wheezing out the dahlia petals out of your chest. A bunch of petals flew out of your mouth. You couldn’t breathe. It was too much. You crawled to your phone to call Felix. It rang once, twice, before he finally answered.

“Y/n?”

You could’ve even speak anymore, the room started spinning, your vision started blurring.

“Lix...hospital...” you managed to let out before collapsing.

“Y/n? Y/n!”

You woke up to the sound of beeping. You looked around and noticed that you weren’t home anymore. You tried getting up, flinching when the IV bag connected to you stopped you.

Ah, I’m at the hospital.

You laid back down and relaxed, trying to relive what happened last time you were awake. All you remember were blurry images of you crying, petals, hearing Felix’s panicked voice, then nothing. You eyes shot open at the thought.

Felix?!

You looked around the room to finally see him sleeping in the corner. You could faintly distinguish the dried tear marks on his freckled face.

He must’ve been here for a while.

The door know turned to reveal the same doctor to diagnosed you a few days prior. “Hello, Y/n,” she greeted, standing by your bed. “Seems like you’re doing well now.” You nodded. You tried speaking to answer her, only to find that you couldn’t because of how dry your throat was. The doctor noticed this and shook her head.

“Don’t. Just rest, it’s okay.”

You bowed you head as a slight thank you. She walked closer to you to pat your head.

“Congratulations, the procedure was a success.”

You eyes widened at the implication. So that’s why you’re here. It all made sense now. You have her a smile as you gave a raspy “thank you.” She talked to you for a while before deciding to leave you to rest a little more. She announced you could be discharged from the hospital by tomorrow.

You felt a little disappointed that you couldn’t love anymore, but still overall glad that you’re still alive. You glanced at the papers the doctor left on the table beside you, grabbing it to read it a little just to see that is was just your information. Beside it, you saw that she also left a cup of water for you. You gulped it down, letting out a relieved “ah” went you finished.

You didn’t want to think about anything right now, and you sure as hell didn’t even want to think about your now ex-boyfriend. You closed your eyes to think about what went wrong in your life. Especially now that you have to live without loving anything the way you want to. You contemplated with an emptiness in your chest.

Our love is-

“...however, they do carry negative connotations;

betrayal, dishonesty, instability.”

-Dahlia

—————————————————————————

(Case #XX1-

Name: Y/n L/n

Patient: Cured; Discharged: XX,XX,XXXX at XX:XX)

——————————————————————————

(Back to Page I)

A/N: PHEW FINALLY DONE WITH THE FIRST PART OF THE SERIES. IVE BEEN EXCITED TO WRITE THIS FIC FOR A LOOONG TIME. (G) I-dle’s “Dahlia” is what inspired me to start the Hanahaki series so THANK YOU MINNIE

#stray kids #skz #stray kids fanfic #skz scenarios #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids angst #skz hyunjin #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin angst #hyunjin x reader #skz felix #hwang hyunjin #lee felix #skz hanahaki au

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pomegranates-and-blood · 4 years ago

Text

The Holly And The Ivy

My Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader, Sigurd/Reader, Sigurd/Margrethe

Summary: “I had this idea where Sigurd (or any of the brothers really) were to marry a Christian, but their marriage is dry and more political than anything, but Ivar is fascinated by her attitude (being opposite of him) and her love for life and simple things. He hears the reader and who she's married to talking about how she loves Christmas and he shuts her down, but Ivar decides to let her pick out a tree from the forest and put it up in the Great Hall and decorate it any way she wants. And the ending would include a kiss under mistletoe? If you can work with it.”

I’m very sorry if I dissapoint you anon, but the story was easier or smoother for me to write as a Modern!AU. I really hope you don’t mind. I can try something in the actual time period still, if you are not happy with au’s.

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: Mentions of cheating, passing mentions of abusive relationships (not involving any of the relationsips in the tag btw), angst, my poor attempt at holiday fics or holiday spirit. Also, a part is not smut or explicit but getting closer to it than most of my work, so that too.

A/N: I really hope I don’t dissapoint whoever requested this. Also, I made this way more complicated than it needed to be, bc I always do, and for that I’m also sorry. Hope you like this, thank you for reading!

The title is from a Christmas carol, cause why not lol

Taglist: @1950schick @youbloodymadgenius (I realized you once asked to be tagged on my Vikings works and I forgot, sorry)

“When we are done with this trip we’ll go back home.” Sigurd points out one night as you both say goodnight, in some hotel somewhere in Norway.

“Home?”

“To my mother’s, in a week. Family time and all that.”

Before you are to leave for your own room, you call out, “For Christmas?”

The blond shakes his head, “Yule. You can celebrate your Christmas when we return.”

“That’ll be after the New Year!” You complain softly, offering a smile because you cannot help it.

“I will have to deal with Ivar and my mother, you can deal with this.” Sigurd sentences, the harshness startling you and prompting you to accept the words with a nod.

He mutters a goodnight again, hesitating for a moment on his bedroom door, as if questioning whether he should say sorry or not. You choose to relieve him of that choice, going into your own room and closing the door with a quiet click.

As if it were waiting for the door to close, your phone lights up on your nightstand.

How’s Oslo?

You type a quick response,

You could just ask me if we’ll be attending your mother’s celebrations, you know.

The response takes a while longer, and you cannot help the smile that pulls at your lips.

…Are you?

I expect all those lessons of yours with Floki to come to use. I’m going to need to learn about Yule, apparently.

So I’m supposed to teach you?

Who else?

Your fiancé. Is the reply you get, so fast you think he already knew what your reply was going to be before you even sent it. After a moment, before you can even think on what to answer, another message comes through. Nvm, my brother is useless. I’ll do it.

Your lips pull into a wide and stupid smile, and God, not even the shame at the quick beating of your heart or the warmth that spreads through you could make you be any less thankful for this, if anything. For him.

Thank you. Are you going to be there by Christmas?

This time the answer takes a while longer, and the indication that he is typing appears and disappears a few times.

I don’t know. Before you can ask anything, or send anything, a new message pops up. Princess, this doesn’t get any easier. I don’t know if I can.

Tears rise in your eyes because a part of you knows you’re meant to say goodbye at the end, and every time you are reminded, either by the pain in your own chest or Ivar’s words, that you are on borrowed time; you realize that end is close than you think.

Well, in that case, Merry Christmas, Ivar.

____

You find yourself being driven to that massive and fancy house by your fiancé.

You toy with your engagement ring as the car approaches the house. You know, rationally, that you have nothing to fear. The brothers have never been mean or hurtful -well, most of them haven’t-, and Aslaug has always been courteous and kind and…incredibly performative.

A part of you never ceased to feel like an outsider looking in. Between the pariah that a stupid business practice will be made into Sigurd’s wife, and the silent and soft woman they ignore as if she were another piece of furniture, you’d much rather be the latter.

“Heavy little thing, isn’t it?” Sigurd teases as he turns off the engine, motioning with his head to the rings on your left hand.

You don’t say anything in response, simply getting out of the car in silence. You know he meant well, he always does.

But a part of you that is hopeful and childish and still looks at the snow that starts to fall lightly over the ground as some miracle that means Christmas is upon us…that part of you cannot help but feel bitter about it all. Regretful, or, maybe, resentful.

You never imagined life would be this, engagement -marriage- would be this. You thought of happiness and warmth and fidelity.

Foolish hopes, really. The hopes of a child that watched her parents dance to the light of the Christmas lights, to the music of the soft music her father hummed. Nothing but foolish hopes.

So, when Sigurd steps out and hesitates in offering you his hand, you offer a smile and take his hand in yours, choosing to appreciate that at least the man you will be forced to marry is one you might call a friend, a partner, one day.

It is easy to forget, it is easy to let your heart be light and just enjoy the adorable giggles of Björn and Torvi’s children, the sympathetic smile of Margrethe, the warm and brotherly embrace of Hvitserk.

You are sipping on wine and watching Ubbe throw Asa over his head as she yells for him to throw her higher when a presence stands by your side and a wine glass clinks with your own in silent toast.

“I know you know about Sigurd and me,” Margrethe whispers, “And I want you to know I am sorry. But…I won’t leave him, not until he asks me to.”

If a year ago someone told you that you’d spent Christmas Eve being told by your fiancé’s mistress that she refuses to stop seeing him, you would have assumed the world turned on its head.

It did, but…you still find it in you to love this world that hurts you, this life that tests you.

You offer a smile, “I know you love him. It started as…”

“Gold-digging?” The blonde supplies, a sheepish grimace on her face.

“I wouldn’t be as unkind as to-…”

“You should. That’s what it was,” Her smile loses the edge, and she falters, “At first.”

You accept her words with a nod, and another sip of your wine.

“Then as long as you are discreet, I don’t mind. Keep him happy, Margrethe, he deserves it.”

You start to walk away when she stops you with a call of your name.

“And you don’t? Deserve to be happy, I mean.”

You hesitate, faltering for a few seconds too long. Her blue eyes are big and uncharacteristically honest as they look at you.

“I…”

You take your gaze off hers, because it feels like she will know something she shouldn’t, something you don’t want her to; but your eyes betray you, it seems.

“Oh, him. Well-kept secret, that one,” She states, and when you open your mouth to argue, Margrethe shakes her head, “It’s okay, I don’t…I don’t blame you. Even if I don’t understand at all how that came to be.”

“It’s…”

“Complicated?” The blonde supplies, and you allow yourself a smile, you loosen your shoulders and close your eyes with a deep breath.

“Ivar, he…understands me.”

“But you two are nothing alike,” She states, and at your shrug, concedes, “Maybe that’s why.”

“Maybe,” You offer, and after a breath, because bitter regret at being the thing that keeps her from the man she loves chokes you for a moment, “Margrethe, I…”

“Don’t you even think of apologizing to me,” She laughs, “Gods, woman, you truly are a soft thing, aren’t you?”

“I have the privilege of being it.” You offer with a kind smile, because you’ve seen the scars, because you remember her when she was more fragile.

Margrethe shakes her head, “The burden.” She corrects, and with a soft squeeze of her free hand on your arm, she walks away.

____

It’s on the day before Christmas that the last of the Lothbrok arrives. You walk down the stairs to a very early breakfast, and jump when the front door opens to reveal Ubbe and Ivar.

He came.

“You are up early.” Ubbe comments as he passes you by, dropping a kiss on your cheek.

You greet Ubbe absently, your eyes on his brother. Numbly, you hear him say something about telling Aslaug that Ivar has come home, and quick steps carrying him up the stairs.

Your lips curve into a smile, or at least they try to, “Hi.”

“Hello, Princess,” Ivar greets, what months ago would have been a smirk curving his lips. Now, now it’s more tired and worn than anything. “Just in time for your…Christmas, right?”

You nod, feeling the stupid urge to cry, “Yeah. Means a lot, you know.”

“Well, I could feel you pouting over the phone, love,” His eyes check the stairs before he moves aided by his crutch towards you with a wince of pain -the cold, you remind yourself, the cold making his legs ache-, and once he is before you, a hand that shouldn’t feel as tender as it does cups your cheek and brings your mouth to his. “I couldn’t leave you alone here. You always find ways to embarrass yourself.”

You chuckle, burrowing your head on his chest as you embrace him.

“I may have fucked up a few times,” You concede, eyes closed as you take in his scent, his warmth, “But I’m cute, I get away with a lot of things.”

____

As the timer on your phone dings, you get up from the couch, leaving a warm but strong drink behind, and make your way to the kitchen, ready to take out the sponge cake -no, a voice too alike Ivar corrects you, Bûche de Noël-.

Uneven steps behind you let you know of who walked in behind you, and you turn around with a slight frown on your brows, meaning to ask something before he interrupts you.

“He’s groping and kissing her in front of you, and you say nothing?” Ivar demands, anger shining clearly in his blue eyes.

“Sigurd and Margrethe?” You ask, and shake your head, “Why would I say anything?”

“You know about them.”

“Of course I do. He doesn’t hide it from me, and he shouldn’t hide it from his family. He loves her, and she loves him.”

“You don’t care that he’s humiliating you?” He presses, and you sigh.

“Everyone here knows how things truly are between Sigurd and me.”

Ivar’s mouth curls into a snarl, and cruelty spews from his lips, “Well, if you had let Ragnar know you had no problem letting your husband fuck whoever he wants, you might have been able to marry Björn, like your father wanted.”

You close your eyes, “Don’t be like this.”

“Like what, hm? Like someone that’s watching the woman he-…What am I supposed to be then, hm? What would make you happy?” He accuses, not losing the cruel edge in his voice even if you both know what he stopped himself from admitting. When you don’t answer, Ivar takes a deep and angry breath through his nose, “I’ve always been jealous of my brothers, you know this. Growing up their poor crippled brother is nothing to knowing Sigurd gets you and doesn’t even know what he-…what I’d do to be him.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Make him be the man you deserve!”

“He’s not the man I want,” You point out before you can keep the words trapped behind your lips. Ivar is inexplicably stunned by your words, it seems, and you lower your gaze. Resting your hands on the counter you drop your shoulders and shake your head, letting go of the previous argument and returning to…peace, or as close to it as one can get with Ivar. “Your brother deserves to be as happy as he can, with the woman he loves. It will not hurt me to see him with her. As long as-…”

“‘As long as it is discreet’, yes, I know. My mother and Ragnar have the same agreement.”

“It works for them, does it not?”

Ivar meets your gaze and doesn’t answer for a few moments, long enough that dread sets in your chest and questions arise in your mind.

Eventually, on the side of his jaw the clear tell of gritted teeth, he replies,

“Not as well as you think.”

“Well, Sigurd and I are friends, we…things will work out. They have to.”

“They have to, of course,” He mocks, moving his head as he rolls his eyes, “Anything to keep Ragnar and your father happy, hm?”

“Ivar…”

His eyes search yours, searching for the answer to a question he has not yet asked,

“I-If I asked you not to do this, if I…if I asked you for more time…” He leaves the words hanging between you, and you blink past helpless tears. He knows the answer, you know the answer.

Thankfully, you don’t have to remind him -and yourself- of the world you live in, of the lives you were meant to live, because the door to the kitchen opens and Aslaug walks through.

You keep your eyes firmly set on the tray before you, even though you can feel Ivar’s eyes on you, demanding an answer. When he realizes he will not get one, he grunts, a clenched fist hitting the counter once before he walks away.

“I’m sorry.” You offer the matriarch as she keeps her all-seeing eyes on you, but Aslaug offers a smile. A fake one, but a smile nonetheless.

“The cold gets to Ivar, it makes him irritable. It is not your fault.” She soothes, but the smile you offer her in thanks still trembles. You both know these are lies you are sharing with one another, and though it makes you falter and stumble, Aslaug moves gracefully from one lie to the next.

“I’ll-…” You point behind you, to the living room, but the woman shakes her head.

“Surely you have time to help me with this?” She asks. It feels like walking into a wolf’s den when you nod your head and approach her.

“Of course.”

She watches raptly as you assist her in preparing the Yule Log, and you focus on doing your best to keep your hands from trembling.

“For someone that doesn’t follow the Gods, you know a lot about tradition, girl.”

“I…It was the least I could do, learning about what is important to your family, to Sigurd.” You offer, and whatever she -who always has the look of someone that sees beyond what normal eyes can- can sense in your words makes Aslaug stop.

She turns to you, and surprises you with a hand on your cheek. The woman towards over you, but the gentleness in her touch, the warmth in her eyes, they help you to not feel threatened.

“Still loving the world that hurts you, sweet thing?”

“It’s all I know how to do.”

Aslaug’s smile is almost sad when she looks into your eyes, “To love, yes, I know. Wish I saw that sooner,” You don’t know what to answer to that, so you offer her only a shaky smile and a shrug. Aslaug chuckles gently, “And you love my son, don’t you?”

The terrifying thought that she knows what she’s doing when not saying any names, the realization nothing gets past her and neither did whatever is between you and Ivar, it all settles in your stomach with a dead weight.

Still, whether she asks about Sigurd or Ivar, the answer is the same.

“Yes.”

One as a friend, a partner, a man you can learn to respect and build a life alongside of. The other, as everything you ever wanted, as someone that will always make you wonder about the ‘what if’s.

She shakes off whatever takes a hold of her, and before you can ask what she means, why it pains her, she steps back from you and turns her back to you.

“You know, Ragnar isn’t the only one in this family with an eye for business. I was once in the same position you are now, the heiress to an empire,” Aslaug’s smile seems to thaw as she hands you a refilled glass of wine to match hers. Resting her backside on the counter behind her, she continues, “My parents were able to teach me a few valuable lessons before their death.

She grabs your left hand, stopping you. Her eyes look deeply into yours, but her thumb rolls your engagement ring on your finger.

“Like how to understand when I can’t make any more moves. And when I can change the wording in a deal to make it favor me.

Your lips part, you think to say something, but Aslaug stops you with a smile.

“Let’s hope you’ve learned the same lessons, my dear.”

____

Ubbe is dancing with Asa standing on his feet, and you watch with a smile on your face as the family enjoys time together, and celebrates the holidays in their own way.

A part of you misses the Christmas lights, the decorations you’d help your parents put up when you were a kid. A part of you misses how simple life was back then, how in this time of year you could forget there was a world past the snow drifting down and the warmth of a hearth and a home.

Ivar comes right up to you, but doesn’t sit next to you, choosing to remain standing.

“Grab your coat,” He orders, and at your confused frown, he rolls his eyes and amends, “Please.”

The most insincere please in the history of pleases, but you know you get more than most, so you don’t comment on it.

Still, you have to ask, “Why?”

“I-…a surprise,” He says, and insists you move with a gesture of his head, “Come on.”

You follow him to the small house the Lothbroks have by the pool, a cozy little home of big windows. When Ivar motions for you to go in ahead of him, a part of you is suspicious, but you still skip your way inside and try not to ask questions as to how it is so warm here when it should be vacant.

Ivar turns the lights on, and you find in the middle of the living room a Christmas tree.

The tree is bare, but still lively and familiar.

You turn to Ivar with tears in your eyes, because you cannot help it.

“You did this for me?”

“You love your Christmas,” He mumbles, embarrassed at the reaction his -to some, uncharacteristic- thoughtfulness got out of you. “I figured you deserved to have some of it with you here.”

“Did you buy Christmas lights?” You ask softly, almost moving up and down in the balls of your feet in excitement, eyeing the bags on a chair nearby.

Ivar chuckles, endeared, and nods, “Go ahead, Princess.”

You skip your way to the bags, quickly looking over the goods and already planning on how to decorate it, how to make it look pretty, how to make it yours.

You don’t truly know how long you spend on it, gleefully putting up Christmas lights, and little ornaments. During the whole time you spent excitedly decorating the tree, you can feel Ivar’s eyes on you, and when you look back at him you find him staring with a strange softness in his gaze.

You choose not to think too much on it, and instead ask his opinion on the decorations, that he gives gruffly and with a very poor attempt at making you believe that -either because Christmas grew on him, which you find very unlikely, or because of your own happiness- he isn’t happy to be here.

____

You smile at the warm and twinkling lights, and burrow closer to Ivar’s warmth, refusing to take your eyes off the dancing lights and refusing to put your feet back on the ground.

Refusing to step out of the fantasy that this could be your life.

Ivar shifts his position, and you lift your head from the juncture between his neck and shoulder and meet his eyes in question.

His eyes give away so much, always have, at least to you. And now they reflect the warm sparkle of the Christmas lights, and they reflect hesitation, fear, uncertainty, love.

Before you can ask what is wrong, Ivar leans in, his hand previously around you tangling in your hair as his lips claim yours.

His kiss is always demanding, but this time it holds desperation in the way Ivar begs for your lips to part with his own, it holds an urgency in the way his tongue dances with yours, it holds a ragged edge in the shaky breath that he lets out through his nose, it holds a goodbye in the way he ends the kiss as if forcing himself to pull away from you.

You try getting your breath under control and your voice to be yours again, but he’s so close, and warm, and yours; and all you want to do is kiss him again.

Kiss him again, and make the furrow in his brow, the pain in his eyes, go away. Kiss him again, and pretend you are not living on borrowed time.

So you do.

You kiss him, and take control of the kiss, and make him groan lightly against your mouth when you tug on his hair, and whimper his name against his own when you straddle him and feel him getting hard underneath you.

When your need for breath makes you part from his kiss, Ivar wastes no time trailing fervent kisses down your neck, panting breaths against the hot skin that he kisses and licks and bites.

You moan his name, forgetting everything but the touch of his lips on your skin, forgetting everything but the scent and taste and feel of him.

Either at the sound of your voice or the grind of your hips against his hardening cock, Ivar’s breath stutters and he breathes your name back at you, voice low.

His brow rests against your collarbone as he takes deep breaths, and your fingers toy at the hair that flows down to his shoulders.

“You know…” He murmurs, pressing a kiss that makes you shiver right on the dip between your collarbones, “There’s nothing I want more right now than marking this pretty neck of yours. Leaving you with…” His teeth scrape against your skin, a tease both for you and himself. Ivar does it a few more times, and moves up your neck again. Your breath shudders past your lips, and you tug on his hair to remind him of what he was saying. You always did love hearing him speak. For all the months you spend apart, his voice telling you what he’d do to you, what he’d have you do to him, is all that keeps you warm. Ivar chuckles, but continues, “Leaving you with my mark all over you, where everyone can see, so…so that they don’t doubt you’re mine.

His hands tighten on your waist, before they travel down, caressing your thighs as he sighs.

“But you’re not, are you? And I can’t…I can’t do any of that. I can’t-…”

You interrupt him before his thoughts can get ahead of him, before he can twist himself into knots about the situation you are both in.

“I am yours. Only yours.” You remind him softly, your lips by his ear. You lean back so you can meet his eyes, and seal your promise with a soft kiss over his lips.

Ivar’s eyes search yours when you pull back, with the same look as before. Uncertain, lost, tender and yet almost sad.

“Marry me.” He whispers, keeping his eyes on yours.

“What?” You squeak, eyes wide. He couldn’t have…he knows that…none of this makes any sense.

“Marry me instead of Sigurd,” He insists, and as if remembering the part he forgot, he curses and hurries to fetch something from his pocket. He offers you a simple but beautiful ring, and swallows, “I-I can make you happier than he ever could, I…I love you.

I know you can, you already do.

I love you too.

But you can’t say any of that, because your breaths are shallow and your head is filled with thoughts and…and you need space.

You scramble to stand, to put distance between the two of you. After a few controlled breaths, you return your eyes to Ivar, whose hand has now fallen back to his lap even if he still holds on to the delicate ring.

He grits his teeth, the obvious tell at the side of his jaw, and he seems to want to divert his eyes from you, but he only blinks and keeps certain eyes on you.

“Your father wants you to marry one of Ragnar’s sons, he doesn’t care who. I…have talked with my father, he agrees that if you want to, we can…” He licks his lips in a nervous gesture, “Mother says any backlash from breaking the engagement can be handled.”

“You’ve thought this through.”

“Of course I have, y-you’d be Sigurd’s wife if I didn’t think of something,” A twitch of anger, of uncertainty, of fear, on his face, and then he amends, “You still can be. But I want you to be able to choose.”

Choose me, is what he doesn’t say.

Your heart is lodged in your throat, and you try a few times before you can finally speak,

“Ivar, we haven’t…it’s been only a few months.”

“And it will not work out, that’s what you’re saying?” He huffs, defensive, “It won’t work out if you marry my brother either.”

“I-…this-…”

“Stop thinking of excuses,” He snaps, gritted teeth and hurt written in his eyes, “I’ll handle everything, no matter your answer. Just…just give me an answer, Princess.”

____

It is open ended cause there’s two ends to this, I wanted to leave the choice to you guys! So, follow the link for the epilogue of your choice:

Will you accept the proposal and be bound to Ivar, for better or worse?

Or will you stay with Sigurd, and be content with companionship and friendship?

Hope you liked this, even if it wasn’t very holiday-ey. I wish you all very happy holidays and a great (or decent, after 2020 I’m happy with decent) 2021!!

(Ik it’s like the 13th and I’m gonna be very much around here posting and bothering the whole lot of ya till the holidays and beyond, but holiday fic and all that, ‘twas the perfect time to send good wishes and all. Love ya!)

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar

103 notes · View notes

pugszler · 3 years ago

Note

M, U, & T for the fanfic asks?

M: Got any premises on the back burner that you’d care to share?

yeah i’ve got a bit of a mental queue building up lol. i’ve currently got 3 major wips of mine that i’m giving priority to, then after those i have a wip that i started but i haven’t published any for yet (it’s a todoiimido soulmate au that @patster223 requested back in 2019 lmao it was for one of those fic prompt kinda ask games so it wasn’t supposed to be a big deal but i’m a dumbass and i’m gonna make a whole ass fic out of this idea i came up with and outlined the shit out of already and i Intend to finish it! ....eventually lol).

there are also two other todomido fics that i’d to start writing but i’ve been obediently holding myself back from doing so bc i need to finish my current wips first. one of the prompts is actually one of the Very first ideas i ever came up with (prob back in 2018ish). it would be a short fluffy one-shot focused on shouto wanting to come out as gay to his classmates but he doesn’t want to like make it a big deal or anything. there would also be a heavy emphasis on shouto becoming better friends w momo and confiding to her and they become gay/lesbian solidarity besties. :> the other todomido fic i wanna write is a dreamsharing au that incorporates the fantasy au as well :>

and besides bnha.... there’s a SUPER OLD wip of mine that i started back in 2015ish for newmann (pacific rim) and i got like?? half of it written but then i never finished it... dude. it honestly would not be that hard to dig that thing up again and finish the dang thing. so i want to do that someday :)

U: A pairing you might like to write for, but haven’t tried yet.

ahh man i’d like to try writing for more!! i still REALLY wanna write an izurody fic but i Still haven’t come up w a single idea for what i wanna write for em :( not really sure about other bnha ships tho... i’d like to try coming up w a fic idea that involves dabi tho (i did have an actual idea for one that i was thinking about... but it was dabi/hox lmao so nvm. if anything i could just... keep the plot premise i had for that and just. replace hox w someone else? but again idk i’m still trying to figure out another dabi ship that i like enough to wanna write/read about).

other than bnha... hmm... at one point i really wanted to try writing fenhawke (da2) and i guess i probably still would like to, i just haven’t been thinking much about da2 in a bit but i could Easily get back into it if i tried lmao. anyway i never rlly came up w any concrete ideas for em (if anything one was an angsty unrequited(ish) love one that’s kinda fucked up lmao i will prob not do anything w that one lmao).

also... ngl i’ve been thinking a loooot about bsd lately.............. i have a ship that i like very much.... but i honestly don’t think i’d be able to write the characters very well at all... they’re all... very complicated people lol. also i just don’t have any ideas (if anything, i’d prob end up coming up w a fanfic FOR ANOTHER FIC that SOMEONE ELSE WROTE bc i’m literally obsessed w their verse... that might a bit weird tho haha... i know that writing fic of other fic is a thing that exists but... i guess it’s kinda weird if you’ve never spoken to the writer and they have no idea who the hell u are lmao)

and like. tbh?? i kinda wish i was a more well-known and liked fic author so that ppl would be willing to request fics for me to write? like i wanna do that 🥺 sure i’d prob be slow or just. never actually write the thing BUT STILL. i would try if it was something that i could vibe with. me @ my followers: pls feel free to request fic ideas/ships/fandoms or whatever if u know it’s something that i’m familiar with and don’t personally dislike lmao

T: Any fandom tropes you can’t stand?

ok i’ma try and make this quick so i don’t end up making myself too angry thinking about this stuff lmao. NUMBER ONE: “misunderstandings” angst that takes WAY TOO LONG to resolve. it’s torture and stupid and i hate it. next. time skips. i hate em in everything be it movies or shows or whatever but Especially in fic bc I WANT TO KNOW ABOUT THE STUFF THAT HAPPENS DURING THE SKIPS AND ALSO I WANT TO READ THE SCENES AS THEY HAPPEN. ppl always write time skips at like the worst parts too??? like they purposefully skip over the best bits?? it’s fucking ANNOYING and i hate it. next. group chat fics. tbh sometimes i enjoy them every once in a blue moon but 98% of the time i HATE them and they make me feel bad about myself (bc i don’t have friends to be in a group chat with) and also they clog up the search results on ao3 and ppl never tag them as “chat fic” so that i can BLOCK THE TAG. so fucking annoying.

also a personal pet peeve of mine that pisses me off IMMENSELY: when characters who are adults are Always written as having had many previous experiences w romantic/sexual relationships and ESPECIALLY W CASUAL SEX. bc okay hear me out. the majority of characters and/or ships that i read the most about have characters that i relate VERY HEAVILY to especially in regards to social inexperience, including them having had very few friendships in life, being socially awkward or extremely quiet, and basically having had little to NO experience w romantic or sexual relationships. also they’re prob autistic (like me). so yeah. it’s a very painful punch in the gut for me when i’m enjoying a fic and suddenly a relatable fave of mine starts talking/thinking about their past experiences w romance and/or sex and that they like. Knew how to initiate those kinds of relationships and also knows how to engage in a new relationship present in the fic. it just.... makes me so uncomfortable and kinda queasy and it immediately takes me out of the immersion of the fic and makes me feel bad about myself. i rlly shouldn’t be so upset by this kind of thing... but i’m stupid and upset by everything so. :/ it’s my own fault.

ALSO REAL QUICK WHILE STILL ON THE SUBJECT. I FUCKING HATE IT WHEN CHARACTERS IN ANY FIC, DOESN’T MATTER WHO IT IS, THINKS OR TALKS ABOUT SEX IN THAT KIND OF “ duh of course i’ve kissed/had sex w ppl! i went to college/i was a teenager 😜” WAY THAT MAKES IT SOUND LIKE IT’S WEIRD OR PATHETIC OR IMMATURE OR WHATEVER TO BE AN ADULT WHO HASN’T HAD SEX OR EVEN WANTS TO HAVE SEX IN THE FIRST PLACE. IT’S SO FUCKING GROSS AND HONESTLY I THINK IT SAYS A LOT ABOUT THE FIC’S AUTHOR MORE THAN THE CHARACTERS TBH.

(fanfic ask meme!!!)

#lol that was not short #dude that was great tho i fucking LOVE talking about fic omggggg #thank you sooooooo much grace for the ask!!! 😍💕💕💕#ask game #replies

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gguksgalaxy · 5 years ago

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Bulls Eye | JJK | Bottoms Up

A summer weekend isn’t complete without Jungkook coming to seek you out at your job at the beach club to bless you wish his smile. A smile that quickly fades to anger one night, when he catches your ex trying to get your attention.

›› Bottoms Up Masterlist ›› AU: Friends to Lovers ›› Genre: Smut / Fluff / Angst ›› Rating: 18+ (sexual content) ›› Pairing: JJK x Reader ›› Word Count: 9.4k Warning Include: Mild violence, swearing, minor injuries, alcohol, toxic past relationship, toxic ex, sex, fingering, cunnilingus, lots of smooching.

Jungkook: Okay but when do I finally get to meet u irl? [19:23]

You: You're legit going to see me like, tonight [19:25]

Jungkook: Meeting u when ur at work doesn't count :((( [19:34]

You: Jungkook, you see me every weekend, the entire summer [19:36]

You: How much more of me do you want to see? [19:36]

You: Nvm dont answer that [19:38]

Jungkook: Ur just scared imma beat ur ass in mario kart [19:38]

Jungkook: Ill let you win though if that means we can hang out :(( [19:40]

Jungkook: Hello? [19:45]

Jungkook: ARE YOU IGNORING ME? [19:59]

Jungkook: I am: H U R T [20:10]

You chuckle at your phone as you’re doing your make-up sitting at your vanity. Jungkook’s been like this for the short time that you’ve known him. It was a little under a year ago when he’d left his phone number on a napkin at your work. Normally you know better than to pick up random number from semi-drunk strangers but his smile had been too good to deny. That, and he had been more friendly than the normal party-goer.

From working at a beach club in the summer, you’re not unaccustomed to receiving numbers that you truly do not want.

When you met Jungkook, he was arguably a little bit tipsy, but he made no attempt at flirting with you as he dropped down onto the barstool in front of you.

You’d been dating someone, something you’d made very clear and it hadn’t mattered to him. You’d be lying to say you hadn’t been a little curious about him. He’d smiled, wide-eyes and wholeheartedly, and you might’ve been whipped ever since. So you’d taken his number under the pretence of sending him the dumb picture you’d taken of him. At his own request.

Here you are, nearly a year later and one boyfriend less. Jungkook has kept texting you but you’ve never really been sure about taking your relationship past your work. According to him, he became a regular just to see you. But it’s easier to not fall too deep in your crush as long as work is the only place you see him.

For him, it seemed to be more of a struggle. When the club closed for winter you truly had expected him to grow bored of you and stop texting. Especially because last year, you were still dating your ex. Also known as the demon who made you last autumn a living hell.

Jungkook, on the other hand, is an angel. Or well, he might be a bit of a brat from time to time but you’ll take it in stride if you get to enjoy his presence a little more. His daily texts at least.

It’s because of his sheer kindness and unabashed behaviour that your ever-growing crush developed past a small infatuation. You catch yourself smiling in the mirror just thinking about him. His sweet smile and soft lips. His sharp jawline and broad shoulders. His hands that — you really need to get your head out of the gutter.

That’s how you knew your crush had taken a … ‘bad turn’. When he’d sent you a Snapchat of his Starbucks drink and your first thought was; ‘I wonder what that hand would feel like on my body’. Or when he’d sent you a video of him working out — obviously as a joke — and all you could see what the bulging of his arm muscles.

Truly, you’re whipped for him and you’re afraid to admit it. His flirting has never passed the line of playful, it’s just there to tease you. Guys like Jungkook — caring, sweet, good-looking — don’t go for you. You’d rather keep your friendship with him, than take a risk and lose everything.

Your phone chimes again, not aiding you in your thoughts. It only makes your smile widen.

Jungkook: I will come whoop ur ass tonight if u don't text me back! [20:31]

You: Oh stop crying will you? I was getting ready [20:31]

Jungkook: Did u think about me? [20:31]

You: Jungkook, why in the lord would I be thinking bout you? [20:33]

Jungkook: Oh I dunno, cuz Im cute? cuz u love me? :(( [20:35]

You: Do I tho? [20:36]

Jungkook: D: [20:36]

You: See you in a few hours kook [20:36]

Jungkook: yiss [20:36]

The club is bustling, the air warm and humid as soon as people start to trickle in. The weather is calm, after a few rainstorms it’s good to feel the ocean breeze. It’ll be busy tonight, and you’re prepared for it.

It takes an hour or two for the club to be filled, music on blast and beer flowing like water. You’re behind the black wooden bar, dressed in a red off-shoulder blouse that hangs loosely around your frame. The dress code at work is jeans and anything red, so you invested in a pair of red sneakers just to match.

The dance floor is crowded, people moving, dancing as you mix drink after drink upon request. Cocktails are your specialisation, that is your corner of the bar. By the time your two hours in your hands are sticky with liquor.

As you’re washing your hands, you find yourself searching for that one familiar face. The fact that Jungkook is about as handsome as they come hasn’t helped you fall for him any less in the short time you let yourself. The second you stopped withholding yourself from thinking about him like that, you found yourself thinking about him like that — all of the time. To the point where you almost drunk dialled him, twice.

Truly, you hope to see him. A night at the club is not complete without Jungkook gracing you with his smile. You remember he said something about dying his hair recently, and you’re curious to see as to what he’s done.

A girl walks up to you with an order, and you’re amidst making her three cosmopolitans when Jungkook finally shows himself.

The glass almost drops out of your hand when you lay eyes on him. “Jungkook,” you stammer out.

He’s wearing a thin white t-shirt, neckline showing his collarbones that are covered in a faint sheen of sweat. The fabric clings to his chest a little, not leaving much to the imagination. He’s more muscular than you thought. You wonder if he —

“Hello, eyes up here,” he chuckles, smiling widely.

You blink at him, realising his hair is a few shades lighter than its usual black hue. It softens out his features, yet the side part reveals his forehead and makes him look more mature at the same time. The way in which he looks both sweet and sexy is odd — confusing is perhaps a better word.

“Hey,” you manage to blurt out, trying to focus on your work again. You pour the girl her drinks and garnish them with a piece of orange zest.

“Did you just get here?” you ask Jungkook.

He shakes his head. “No, I got here about an hour ago.”

“And you didn’t come say hi? I’m offended.”

He chuckles again, nose scrunching up. “Let me give you a hug as consolation?”

Your eyes widen at the request. It’s not that you haven’t hugged him before. He’s managed to ensnare you enough times when you were out collecting glasses. Though, this is the first time he’s so openly asked for it and your stomach jumps at the thought. For your own sanity, you want to protest but you find yourself unable to.

“Please? I haven’t seen you for eight months. Give a guy some love.” Jungkook cocks his head to the side, a gesture that makes his hair fall over his forehead. The light catches his eyes — you can’t say no to those eyes.

“Fine, fine,” you sigh with a roll of your eyes as you sling the towel over your shoulder.

Jungkook grins so widely you blush as he envelops you into a bone-crushing hug. He is warm, smelling like an odd mix of beer, sweat and a light perfume. Strangely, it works but you can’t help but wonder how nice he’d smell when he’s not in a club. The perfume you caught definitely matches him.

You can just withhold yourself from literally inhaling him as you rest your chin on his shoulder. His shirt is so thin that you can feel the dip of his spine as your hand grazes his back. Your stomach flutters again.

He lets go too soon, and you have to stop yourself from pouting. “The usual?” you ask.

“Yeah, Tae and Jimin are hanging out somewhere, so two beer too.” He looks over his shoulder to where he must assume his friends are. You don’t seem them, but you doubt they’d stray far. He usually comes with them, though he’s shown up alone too. Every Saturday in the summer like clockwork.

Jungkook always orders the same cocktail. You step back behind the bar as he watches you carefully. His eyes follow you as you move — you’re hyper-aware of it, but too afraid to look up and meet his gaze.

Bulls Eye is not a drink that’s order often, but you’ve started to associate it with Jungkook. As you pour the lemon juice into the shaker, you mix it with light beer, ginger ale, and some sugar. It’s stirred, not shaken. The drink is not your thing, but you’ve tried it on his recommendation. Sadly, anything with beer has a tendency to make your tastebuds cringe.

It’s poured over ice, cold in your hand at you pass it to him. “Here, not too heavy on the lemon juice.”

“You remember?”

“How could I not?”

Jungkook seems taken aback by your comment, silent for a few beats too long. He doesn’t shake out of his trance until you give him the two beers. “Thanks! The others must be wondering where I went. I’ll see you around!”

You smile at him, giving a short wave as he walks off with the drinks crammed in his hands. He turns back to look at you once before he disappears into the crowd. You hope he didn’t catch you staring.

Seeing him again — hugging him — has truly confirmed that you’re in over your head. Your heart is thrumming just from the sight of him. It’s been eight months and yet you swear he matured. The purposely odd-angled Snapchats truly didn’t do him justice.

You remember a few months ago when he’d started sharing his workouts with you. Apparently, he’d been held up by a shoulder injury, but now he was back on his regular regime. Also known as the regime where he spends most of his free time either working out of playing video games. Either of which you receive excessive clips of.

The thoughts make you chuckle. You’ve never been much of a gamer, but Jungkook's excitement about it has pushed you dangerously close to getting yourself a console. Who knows, maybe soon.

His offers to play Mario Kart with you are tempting. It’s the thought of what could happen that make you hesitate every time. The chance of this ending in shambles becomes more and more likely the deeper you fall for him. You’re not sure there even is a way out anymore.

“Hey, miss whipped!” your colleague calls out, waving a hand in front of your face.

“W-what?” You shake yourself.

She chuckles. “Legit, are you still not dating him?”

You frown. “Who? Jungkook? No, we’re not dating.”

“You’re willing to tell me that you two are out here looking at each other like you’re about to walk down the aisle and you’re not dating? Girl, get a grip, the boy’s all over you. Has been since the first time he saw you.” She’s washing out the dirty glasses, hands moving quickly.

You’re unsure of what to tell her. It’s the second year you’re working together but you wouldn’t really consider her a friend. “I’m not sure about that.”

“Wait.” She stops. “Don’t tell me you’re still dating that douche from last year? I know we’re not close but he was a dick and you need to get rid of him.”

“No, no. I broke up with him a few months ago.” You think back of your ex. Last summer when you’d taken this job he’d been displeased. But it’d worsened when he came to see you and decided that every guy who ordered from you was either flirting with you or out to take you from him. He’d always been a little possessive, but after summer he’d just crossed the line with you. Though, breaking up with him wasn’t as easy as you’d thought it’d be.

Despite him being possessive, you really thought you loved him. You didn’t want to lose him and it caused you to be stuck in an unhappy relationship for three months. Until you finally decided to cut him out — a messy breakup to be honest.

If it wasn’t for Jungkook showing you that you were so unhappy you’d still have been moping around.

“Well then,” your colleague says. “What are you waiting for? If I had a guy that hot smiling at me like I’m the sun his earth revolves around I would jump his bones any chance I got.”

“Nina!” you squeal.

“What?” she answers wide-eyed. “Oh please, you must’ve thought about it. Did you see his pecs?”

You blush furiously. “Okay! That’s enough lusting after my friend for tonight!” You push her towards the sink and get back to taking orders.

If she’d been wrong you doubt you’d be this flustered. But she’s not. You hate yourself for thinking about him like that. Jungkook’s a nice guy, he’s not out for more than a friendship. Surely he’d have said so if he was. Right?

You see Jungkook three more times that evening, each time a little more drunk and with a little bit of a wider smile. Though, when he comes to you for his fourth drink he asks for water. His t-shirt sticks to his skin and he giggles out something about needing some refreshment. You tell him to go for a swim in the sea. He replies with a wiggle of his eyebrows, asking you to join him. For skinny dipping.

You blush; your mistake. He sees right through you, eyes narrowing but no commentary following. Instead, he purposely brushes his hand against yours when you hand him his drinks — you now this because he lingers a tad too long. His gaze settles on you before he walks away and you want to blame it on the alcohol in his system but it feels like he knows.

Nina leans over to you. “Girl, your boy is giving you bedroom eyes. Are you really out here telling me he doesn’t want you?”

“Stop!” you shriek.

“Listen, it’s easy. You want him, he wants you. Nobody says you have to bed him, though I’d advise you to. He looks good.”

You roll your eyes at her again, walking into the back to get something to eat and take a breather. The night is warm, but the breeze that trickles in from the open back door is nice. You wish you could swim actually. It’s been a long time since you actually went to the ocean, even if you live so close. Life’s been busy.

When you walk into the club to collect empty glasses and bottles, you spot Jungkook. He’s with his friends, laughing and dancing without seemingly a care in the world. He doesn’t see you, but when he smiles particularly wide your own lips twitch.

You wonder whether being with Jungkook would be as bad of an idea as you thought. Being stuck in this crush for the rest of your friendship might be the end of you. He is too good to be true, yet he’s right here within reach and you’re letting him slip between your fingers.

Would kissing him be as good as you’ve imagined? Because you certainly have imagined it — his lips on yours, soft and maybe a little demanding, smiling into it even.

A hand wraps around your arm and you’re pulled around before you can truly register what happens. “Hey, babe.” You recognise the drawl of the pet name immediately. Your ex.

He smiles at you, fingers smoothing down your arm with a slight tilt of his head. His grin is glazed over with the effects of alcohol in his blood. He’s drunk, about to start something.

You take a tentative step back. “What do you want Hyunwoo?”

Instead of answering immediately, he moves closer with fingers trailing your waist. “I’m just wondering if you’ve had enough time to think? Did you realise you miss me yet?”

The scoff that slips past your lips is probably a mistake — the twist of his face shows his displeasure.

“Babe, don’t be like that. You said you needed space, didn’t I give you that?’

“No,” you spit. “That was months ago Hyunwoo. Before I broke up with you.”

He licks his lips and you hold your breath. Hyunwoo is mostly bark and, usually, no bite, but won’t hurt you but starting a scene is not past him. “People change their minds, don’t they?”

You push his hand off your hip. “Listen, you and I are done. I don’t want to be with you anymore, we don’t work. It’s better if you just leave me alone.” He’d better leave your sight soon. You’ve closed this chapter of your life and this just brings back bad memories you don’t need. Unwilling to grant him another second of your time you turn away to go back to the bar.

He grabs your hand again, pulling you against him. “Babe, come on.”

“Hyunwoo, let fucking go of me!”

Someone pushes him away from you, pulling you back.

“I think you need to back off,” Jungkook snarls suddenly from beside you. Hyunwoo reaches for you but Jungkook stops him with a shove. “I said back off man.” His voice is laced with anger and when you finally gather yourself enough to look up at him you’re surprised to see the furious look on his face.

Jungkook’s eyes are dark, brows set — it’s almost scary.

Your ex merely scoffs. “Who the fuck do you think you are, kid?”

“Someone who’ll treat her much better than you ever did. Now fuck off before I rearrange your teeth.”

The way Jungkook speaks is so out of character, you barely recognise him. Never have you heard him this angry over anything — it’s pure disgust coming out of his mouth. You suppose he’s never liked Hyunwoo, but you sure hope he can keep his hands to himself.

“Jungkook,” you try, touching his arm that’s coiled tight.

“I cared for her when no-one would and what?” Hyunwoo’s eyes run up and down Jungkook’s body. “She cheats on me with a highschooler.”

Jungkook scoffs. “You call isolating her from her friends, caring?” He steps towards Hyunwoo with a puffed-out chest. Your attempt to pull him back by his shirt only fails. “She didn’t cheat on you, have a little self-respect and leave her alone.”

“Self-respect? She’s the one going around fucking randoms.”

“That’s it,” Jungkook barks, shoving him back two steps. “You manipulative fuck, you have thre—“

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence before Hyunwoo’s fist connects with his cheek.

“Jungkook!” you exclaim, but he doesn’t hear you. Instead, he retaliates before you can do anything. Jungkook hits him back and you flinch upon the impact. You’re nailed to your spot as you watch Jungkook’s fist collide with his face again, not even stumbling. Everything around you slows down, you try to pull at Jungkook’s shirt, call his name, but he keeps pushing Hyunwoo further back.

“Stop!” you yell. People around you take notice, and someone tries to pull you back as Hyunwoo tackles Jungkook to the ground. He hits him in the face again and you cry out.

Suddenly, two security guards rush in. They just manage to stop Hyunwoo from hitting Jungkook again. Jungkook scrambles up from the floor and wipes the blood from his mouth as the guards force Hyunwoo out of the club. He yells something you can’t hear over the thumping of your heart.

Jungkook pushes at the third guard that comes for him, swaying on his feet.

“Hey!” you splutter out. The man from security recognises you, stopping with a firm grip on Jungkook’s upper arm. “It’s alright, he was protecting me. I’ll take him outside.”

“Are you certain miss?” He gives Jungkook a sceptical look. One of Jungkook’s eyes is watering, and there’s a bit of blood running from his nose.

You nod. “Yeah, I’ll get him some ice and send him on his way.” Jungkook is rubbing a hand over his eye, and you shakily grab his elbow to stop him. You look around, hoping to find Jimin or Taehyung so they can take him home, but they’re nowhere to be found. “Let's go.” Your voice falters, laced with nerves as you try to steady your own legs.

Jungkook sets his jaw. You shove him forward but he won’t budge. “Go Jungkook, to the bar.” Your legs feel like lead, body heavy with what just happened. He grumbles something when he finally starts walking to the front. The fear of what could’ve happened to him won’t stop running circles through your mind.

You guide him behind the bar and Nina perks up at the sight of him. “What happened?!”

“He punched my ex in the face,” you scoff.

She shoots Jungkook an approving look. “Good riddance.”

“Listen,” you say, grabbing a glass full of ice. “I can’t find his friends so I’m taking him to mine. Will you guys be okay without me?” Jungkook’s slumped against the bar behind you, still not having said a word.

Nina nods. “Yeah, you look pretty shaken up yourself. We’ll be fine. Do you need me to call a cab?”

You shake your head. “It’s okay. I don’t live far.”

Jungkook huffs at you when you sit him down on a chair in the back. He really overstepped himself, and you want to be angry at him for making a scene at your work. But then again, he wasn’t the one who started throwing punches and the fact that he did it to protect you…you can’t just get mad. He could’ve gotten so much worse, you’re just glad he’s okay.

“Wait here.” You shuffle around the cabinets to find a washcloth and dump the ice in there, trying it up and giving it to him. “Here, for your cheek.”

He doesn’t take it, he just keeps rubbing his eye and blinking aggressively. “I think I’ve something in my eye.”

You sigh, slapping away at his hand from his face and tipping his head back into the light. “I think you just have a serious case of stupid.” Surprisingly, he lets you examine his eye, gently rubbing the skin under it. “It looks fine, just stop rubbing it.”

Jungkook blinks up at you. “Thanks.”

“Where are Jimin and Taehyung?”

He frowns, trying to think. “Uh…I think they were going out for food. I was going to join them after I said bye to you when I saw — what’s his name — talking to you.”

“Okay, well…I live one subway station away. I have a spare mattress, you can stay over for tonight. Come on.” You pull Jungkook up and he stumbles but manages to stop himself from completely falling over. He’s less drunk than you thought, probably just shaken up like you are. You’re not sure if he’s hurt past bruising, but at least his nose has stopped bleeding. At home, you’ll get to take a better look.

You exit through the back door, grabbing your coat and bag and pushing Jungkook towards the subway. He doesn’t say much, on his way there, just silently holds the ice against his face — it’s not going to last long in these temperatures.

You think back, the way that Hyunwoo went from nothing to full-on fist fighting within seconds. It flashes before your eye — Jungkook on the floor under him. Though he too had seemed pretty adamant on giving Hyunwoo a permanent facial.

Once you reach the station Jungkook grabs your hand, ice-cold and wet. You look up at him, his cheek red and a little swollen. “You okay?”

He looks at his feet. “I’m sorry.”

You sigh, squeezing his hand. “It’s okay, let’s just go to my place.” When the train arrives you realise his nose is bleeding again, and motion for him to hold the washcloth up.

Jungkook looks defeated as he sits down next to you. It takes him two entire seconds to lean into your side and nod off. His hair smells nice like he washed it just before he went out. It’s soft, floral maybe even.

As you sit here next to him you realise his hand is still loosely encasing yours, laying in your lap. You never expected Jungkook to just protect you like that. The way Hyunwoo just attacked him, you just hope that he really doesn’t have anything aside from a future bruise. The thought of Jungkook getting hurt because of you is not something you think you can stomach. Even if your ex totally deserved it — maybe you should’ve seen it coming. After all, it had been Jungkook who’d shown you that you deserved better.

When he nuzzles his cheek into your shoulder you realise that better might be him after all. Jungkook has always offered you warmth, a shoulder to cry and lean on.

You gently shake him awake at your stop, and he blushes when he opens his eyes to see you so close. It’s endearing, and you find yourself no longer caring to hide your feelings. You brush the hair out of his face. “We’re here,” you whisper.

Jungkook stumbles after you, sleepily dragging himself up the stairs where he bumps into you again. He’s finally stopped rubbing his eye but it remains a little red. You push him ahead when he wavers and spot scuff marks and a cut on his elbow. It’s worse than he’s letting on.

“Kook, you’re bleeding.” You stop him, twisting his arm to look at it. It doesn’t look to deep and you sigh in relief. The way you’d pulled him has him close to you, almost nose to nose when you look up. “A-are you okay?”

He nods slightly, eyes skimming over your face.

“Okay, we’re almost there.”

Your stomach keeps twisting with the realisation that he got hurt because of you. If it hadn’t been for the guards…Jungkook he’s more than just a friend to you. Even if you never hung out, the steady presence in his life is so important to you. You don’t want to imagine it without him. He texts you almost every day if he can, and maybe it was a good place to start. You feel that you know him as you watch him slump against the wall of the elevator. He knows you. There was nothing physical before you fell.

Jungkook hesitates on your doorstep, looks inside the hall as if something is going to jump out at him.

“Get inside Kook.” You look at him over your shoulder. “I’m going to get a warm towel and some stuff to clean the cuts on your elbows and we—“

You’re muffled by Jungkook pulling you into a hug. Your heart jumps as your cheek is pressed against his chest while he holds you. The washcloth is cold against your back where he still holds it. He rests his chin on top of your head, holding you tight. His chest is warm, and you find yourself pressing even closer — you want to feel this forever. He holds you as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Tears sting the corners of your eyes as you wrap your arms around his waist. All the tension releasing itself it seems. “Kook.”

“I’m sorry, okay. I just — I saw him grabbing you and I saw how uncomfortable you were. All I could think of was protecting you and I should’ve stayed out of it. I only made it worse and I — I can’t imagine what you must think of me now. I got so angry, I didn’t know what I was saying.”

What you think of him? If only he knew.

He presses his nose into your hair, his next words muffled. “Please forgive me.”

Forgive him? That was never a question on your mind, you were never mad at him. Maybe a little upset, but it was nothing he’d need your forgiveness for. Not in your eyes. You’re more upset about him getting hurt than anything else.

“It’s alright. Just sit down so I can make sure you’re okay.”

He hums and affirmative into your hair and plops himself down on the chair after. You quickly return from the bathroom with a clean towel and some antiseptic. Jungkook sits slouched forward a little, it makes him seem smaller than he really is — cuter. There’s still some blood running from his nose and by the small stains on his fingers you know he’s been rubbing it.

“You’ve got to stop touching your nose,” you mumble. “You’re going to get blood all over the place.” You fill a glass with water for him to drink, and knock your knee against his as a gesture. He parts his legs so you can get a closer look at his face.

“Squeeze the bridge of your nose and lean forward.”

“Everyone always says backwards.”

“Forward, Jungkook. And give me your hand.” You grab his free hand and twist it up. This way you get a good look at whatever caught his arm. The cut shallow, mostly dried by now. “You know,” you drawl as you gently clean the wound. “You really shouldn’t do stupid shit like that.”

You clean away the blood from his arm and fingers. He’s shockingly pliable in your grip. “You could’ve really gotten hurt Jungkook.”

“I wouldn’t have let him,” he answers nasally, still leaning forward.

“I’m serious, Hyunwoo would’ve ripped you to shreds.” Jungkook’s other arm is less wounded, but you clean it anyway.

He winces a little when you twist his wrist to check the cut again. “Do I look like I’m going to let an asshole like him just talk to you like that?”

You remove his hand from his nose, tipping his head back to clean his face too. His hand is warm and you find yourself wishing you could hold it for longer. “Still, you can’t just do stuff like that because you care about me. You don’t have to prove it.”

Jungkook grabs your hand again, pulling it away from his face so roughly you gasp and drop the towel to the floor. “Care about you?” he snorts. “You think I did that because I just care about you?” A soft chuckle leaves his lips as he shakes his head. “I don’t know if I haven’t made it obvious enough but…I wake up and go to sleep thinking about you.”

You stare at him, standing between his legs in the light from your kitchen. Jungkook looks at you with so much determination you’re unable to move or even speak. Was that a confession? You purse your lips together.

He sighs deeply. “All I think about is wanting to wake up next to you and make you breakfast and you think I care about you. You’re a fool.”

A fool for him. “Kiss me,” you whisper.

He falters — stops with parted lips and a change of gaze that is so gentle you’re not sure if he heard you properly.

You shake your hand from his grip and place both on his shoulders, leaning in close enough to touch noses. He hiccups, tiny breath puffing out against your lips. You smile. “I said, kiss me fool.”

He needs to hear no more. His lips come up for yours like he’s coming up for air after a long time starved. Jungkook kisses with fervour, gently but with purpose and you sigh into him. You’ve thought about this for so long and it surpasses all your expectations. Your legs dare buckle at the first graze of his teeth against your bottom lip.

Jungkook catches you, manoeuvring you into his lap and taking advantage of your gasp to deepen the kiss. You moan, surprising even yourself, but the sound he lets out in return is worth it. His hands paw at your hips, sliding under your top to touch your skin after yearning for so long. Everywhere he touches, every little sound you make — it’s like it sets him free. He grows bolder with every move.

Every swipe of his tongue into your mouth is devilish, a stark contrast with his previous words. This beats all imagination. Jungkook is too good to be true. His kiss is a little inexperienced, a little experimental, but you take it in stride because he is so eager.

You want him. “Jungkook,” you moan into his mouth that is parted against yours. He pants heavily, hands played out over your back to keep you against him. You feel steadied by him — you need it when he ruts his hips up into yours without warning.

He’s not hard yet but God you’re already feeling the pleasure pool in your own stomach and you don’t want him to stop. You kiss him even deeper, tongue wet and warm and so good. “Fuck.”

Jungkook pulls at your hips and when you settle over his lap properly, you feel him. The jeans-on-jeans contact doesn’t do much for you but the sheer thought of having him underneath you is your undoing. He breaks the kiss to lather kisses down your neck. Open-mouthed and with a little tongue, your fists tighten into his shirt when he grazes his teeth over your pulse point.

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve waited for this,” he speaks into your skin. His nose is pressed against your neck, paused to take you in. As if time is going too fast.

You can’t blame him, you would stay like this forever if you could. It’s the burning between your legs that won’t let you. “Don’t stop.”

He laughs, a puff of warm air that fans out over your chest. When he looks up at you his eyes are darker, the stars in them dimmed to dusk. “Are you sure?”

“Jungkook,” you whine, grinding your hips over his. He stutters and you grin at the feeling of his hardening dick. “I’m already on the verge of soaking through my jeans — yes, I’m sure.”

Strangely, his cheeks flush at your commentary but it doesn’t faze him in the slightest. He kisses back up to your mouth, claiming it as his and kissing you with a little more ease. It’s as if he already learned from two minutes ago. He slows down, hands ghosting all the way down your mode to squeeze at your thighs.

You gyrate your hips, circling him until you’re certain he must be uncomfortable in those tight jeans. Yet, he seems more than satisfied just occupied with your mouth. You could kiss him for days, but you’re so frazzled by him you have to come up for air. Everything he does makes it hard for you to function, and he sniggers as you nuzzle along his jaw to kiss softly at his neck.

“You good?” he muses, fingers combing through your hair.

“Hmm, perfect.”

“Can I eat you out?”

You frown, looking up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. Did you hear him right? Did he ask to eat you out — as if it is the most normal question in the world? As if he just asked you if you like pancakes. You do, and the thought of having his mouth on you…“If you want to.”

“If I want to,” he mocks. Without any warning, Jungkook hauls you up and you squeal when you tip over backwards. You cling to him, gripping at his back and making his shirt ride up. “If I want to, she asks me. I’ve been thinking about it for months — yes I want to.”

Jungkook deposits you on the kitchen table and you‘re not willing to let him go just yet. You seek out his mouth again, warm and comfortable and your kiss-swollen lips want nothing more than his for the rest of the night. Yet, you can already see the sun rising through the curtains behind him.

“I thought about it too.” Your words get muffled with the kiss but you know he hears you from the groan he lets out. A sound that vibrates in his chest — his chest which you feel rise and fall beneath your fingers. He is muscular, and your mouth waters at the thought of seeing him. “Take your shirt off first.”

He obeys, pulling the white material off with one hand. You marvel at him once he’s shirtless, fingers seeking out his skin and trailing down his abs. They’re defined in the best way, just enough for you to feel them move under your touch as his breath hitches. Jungkook really is gorgeous and you find yourself kissing down his chest.

“Hey, hey,” he chuckles again, stopping your fingers that had slipped down to the buttons of his jeans. “I’m eating you out first, so hands off and back on the table.”

You raise your eyebrows at his half-assed command, a snicker on the edge of your lips. “Oh?”

“I said,” he grins, coming nose-to-nose with you. “On your back.”

You stomach flutters but you listen as he parts your legs. The table is cold against your back and it’s not an unwelcome contrast against Jungkook’s hands sliding up your now spread thighs. He squeezes your flesh and you can’t help but thrust your hips up with a whine. “Kook.”

“Impatient are we? Lift your hips for me.” He pops the button of your jeans and slides them down as you lift. There’s a bit of a struggle shucking them off your legs but it brings some laughter when he finally manages. “Damn tight jeans.”

You huff, still on your back. “You’re one to speak, I can practically see your dick outlined from here.”

Jungkook brushes your shirt up a little to kiss right under your belly button — your stomach dips at the soft touch. “It’s fine right where it is. For now, I wanna know what you like.” He waits for your answer, ticking off the time with little kisses and nips around your hip-bones that make you whine in the back of your throat.

“I — I don’t know?”

He looks up with a frown. “He really sucked didn’t he?”

“Well technically, he didn’t… “ You bite your lips in shame.

Jungkook rolls his eyes at you. “You can guide me as I go then.” He resumes his kisses down your stomach, sucking the faintest bruises on top of your thigh. “I want to make you feel good.”

You nod, laying back and enjoying the feeling of just him. The brush of his fingers as he hooks his thumbs into your underwear, the press of his lips to your skin. It seems like he’s mapping you out, tracing your sweetest spots as he pulls off your panties. The cold skin hits you and you shiver.

The first brush of his lips is tantalising, you hold your breath. It’s not a feeling your unaccustomed too but that it’s him is enough to undo you at the first touch. He spreads your folds, a little hesitantly. The tremble in his fingers gives him away and you fight the urge to lean up and look at him. “Keep going.”

He hums, breath warm against your mound. You can feel him staring and it’s exposing, but you can’t close your legs with his shoulders spreading you apart. Jungkook kisses your clit and your muscles tense, again and again until he licks and you let out a soft cry. He has the nerve to smile against you. The pull of his lips is obvious against your core and you lick yours in anticipation.

For a bit, he keeps at it like that, gently licking your bud until you’re certain you're going to break your toes from curling. “I need more,” you whimper. He obliges, wrapping his lips around the bundle of nerves and suckling. It’s tender but so so good and the little breathy moan he lets out when you tangle your fingers in his hair echoes through your core. You sigh, it’s heavenly. He’s patient, taking his time to learn you — unfold you — as you urge him on bit by bit.

His hair is silky smooth between your fingers and you pull lightly. “A little more to the — ah — left — yes!” you cry, head thudding against the wooden surface. You’re moving so much Jungkook has to slide your back up the table a little. His mouth picks up, figuring out what makes you scream and using just that against you. Your stomach is tingling and you’re moaning without shame now.

“Fingers?” he mumbles, looking up at you through his lashes. The sight of his head between your legs, lips shining, eyes dark — it’s too much.

“Yes, gently.”

He chuckles against you again, a little chiming sound as he circles your entrance with the tip of his finger. “Relax,” he whispers, other hand coming down to press your hips to the table. “I’ve got you.” When he slides in you feel every knuckle and you practically suck him in. You’re so wet it takes him little effort to wriggle in another finger. He starts up a slow pace, kidding your thigh in random intervals as he observes your reaction. You can feel his unwavering gaze on you. “Good?”

“Yeah, just — don’t stop.”

“More?”

“N - No. Ah.” You gasp when he curls his fingers up and deeper. He’s so attentive you’re certain he needs no more verbal affirmatives. Right now you’re putty in his hands, shaking and trembling for him. His fingers glide along your walls, rubbing until you clench him tightly. “Jungkook,” you moan.

He knows. He knows because he starts sucking on your clit again like no tomorrow and it’s enough to make you feel the edge of your orgasm. It builds with his movements, tight, languid, just right — you come hard and he edges you through it until you twitching in his grasp. He keeps his fingers inside of you until you finally open your eyes to look at him.

Then, he withdraws them and sucks them clean. His eyes are even darker if that was possible. You know he isn’t done with you yet.

Your chest heaves as you try to grasp reality again. Jungkook looks ravished, standing between your limp, parted legs with two fingers in his mouth. His hair is a mess, right side sticking up from where you’d gripped it so hard. You open your mouth to say something, but it dies on your tongue.

“Are you still with me?”

“Yeah,” you pant, running your fingers through your hair. “When you said you were gonna make me breakfast, this was not what I thought you meant."

Jungkook laughs, lips spreading into a gorgeous smile as he grabs your hands to pull you up. You come chest to chest, mouth to mouth. His tongue parts your lips and you keen at the taste of yourself in his mouth, arms winding around his neck. Your legs wrap around his waist, coarse material of his jeans rubbing against your sensitive centre. Jungkook’s chest is sticky with sweat already and the muscles in his back dance under your fingertips as you caress them.

He is so good, touching every inch of your body while he takes his time kissing you. There are groans dying in the back of his throat and you can feel the twitch in his hips when he brushes against you. Your hand snakes down his chest to his jeans, palming and drawing a curse from him. You trace the outlines of his cock and he caves, forehead falling to yours.

“God please tell me you have condoms because I’m not done with you yet.”

You don’t want him to be. You’re getting wet again just at the thought of having him inside of you. From what he’s shown — from what you can feel right now — he’s not going to disappoint. “In the bedroom.”

He lifts you up, legs around his waist and his hands on your bare ass. With a grunt, he squeezes, manoeuvring you to the bedroom with your guidance that is drowned out in a kiss. You yelp when he bumps you into the corner and he soothes it with a soft caress, laughter erupting from the both of you. He presses you against the wall and you notice the skin of his left cheek is warm. A hiss passes his lips when you grace it.

You pull away to look at him, brushing his hair away from his face. His cheek is swelling a little but the lustful look in his eyes is enough for you to continue. Kissing him, you lightly pull the hair at the nape of his neck. He likes it, you note.

Jungkook lowers you down to the best, carefully so as he lays himself over you. “Take off your top,” he whispers, sitting up on the bed to undo his own jeans. You slide the fabric off your body, discarding it haphazardly along with your bra. He sits and you sling your legs over his lap as you push him back into the covers.

“What — ah.” He sighs deeply as you start kissing down his chest, fingers grazing his nipples. Jungkook is so pliant, chest heaving underneath you as you crawl down his body. He’s straining against his boxers and you appraise his self-control. “Baby,” he drawls, fingers carding through your hair as your lips stop at the edge of his underwear.

You chuckle, teeth nipping at his skin before you draw his boxers down slowly. His cock slaps up against his stomach, the tip wet with precum that had stained his underwear. You curse at the sight of him, fingers coming up to wrap around the base.

He stops you before you can get your mouth on him, hand around your wrist. “Fuck I — I want to come inside of you. Another time.” His breathing is laboured and his flushed state somewhat cute as he looks at you between his legs.

Yet, you can’t argue with him, you do want him inside of you. Sooner rather than later. You crawl back over him to kiss him more, hips settling over his dick. So heavenly, that first skin on skin contact. Both of you moan, heads thrown back as you rub him up and down, wet with your juices now.

“Stop,” he whines. “I really, really want to fuck you.”

You let him flip you over, your back pressed into the mattress. Jungkook’s muscles stand outlined by the faint light in the room, twisting as he reaches for you. His skin is soft and warm and you want to feel it, everywhere.

“Condoms?” he asks again.

“Drawer.” You point and he reaches beside him to retrieve a packet and throw it onto the bed. It seems that neither he not you can get enough of kissing. The soft nudge of him against your thigh is a reminder of what’s about to come.

You’ve fantasised about this so often you should be ashamed. But what can you do when Jungkook looks like half a god, half an angel all the time. You want him to ravish you, to make you his, now.

He falters as you touch him between your legs, stroking him and fumbling to find the condom. “Here,” he grabs it and wastes no time ripping it open. You help him roll it on, eyes trained on the way he twitches at the feeling. He’s hot and heavy in your hand as you guide him down to your entrance. Jungkook has other ideas however, because he pulls your hand away from him to secure it above your head.

You whine when he nudges his tip against your folds but leaves it at that. “Jungkook!”

“I know, fuck, I know. I just — you know this is not just about sex right?” His eyes lighten, brow smoothing out as he searches your yes.

You trace the seam of his lips with a sigh. “I do, but you can tell me everything over breakfast. Actual breakfast. Right now, I really want your dick inside of me, please.”

He smiles, capturing your lips as he presses closer. You feel him collect your wetness, teasing your clit with the tip of his cock. The anticipation gets to you and you fingers slide over his back to pull him closer. His chest brushes yours when he gently kisses down your neck.

The first breach of him stings, and you tighten your legs around his waist. It’s been so long, but it’s so good and you moan at the stretch of him filling you up slowly. You hiss at the delicious burn — Jungkook hears it and withdraws so quickly you yelp. “Hey!” you splutter, pulling him back to you.

“Was I hurting you?” His eyes are wide with concern.

You snicker. “You’re not that big Jungkook, get a grip.”

He whines. “I’m serious!”

“Silly,” you grin, kissing his cheek. “It was good. It’s just been a while, go slow hmm?”

He nods, pushing back in hesitantly. His eyes won’t leave yours, making sure that you’re feeling good. And boy are you feeling good. The way he stretches you is so delicious you can barely keep your eyes open. When his hips are flush with yours he moans, fingers of one hand tightening around your waist. His bottom lip is drawn between his teeth, brow furrowed in concentration.

“You feel so good,” you whisper hotly.

His cheeks heat up and you can’t help but find it endearing. He’s balls deep inside of you and he still manages to be cute and you love it. It’s uncharacteristically him and —

“Oh,” you gasp when he withdraws a little and pushes back in.

He feels so good, the press of his hips against yours every time he bottoms out. Your nails press into his shoulders, keening at the smooth slide of him inside of you. Jungkook moans, a sweet little sound he tries to hold in.

You touch his face, making his eyes snap up at you again. “I want to hear you,” you say.

“Fuck.” He shifts his legs under you. With a new-found goal he lifts one of your legs over his shoulder and he all but folds you in half as he slides even deeper. “God, you’re so tight.” His voice strains as he starts up again, a steady in and out that has you building up fast.

Jungkook keeps thrusting, making sure you feel his hips on yours every time. A tiny little pause to feel himself fully inside of you and it makes him reach so deep your toes curl.

“Faster,” you moan.

He picks up his pace, groaning into your skin as he does. You try to meet his thrusts. His chest vibrates with his moans, they’re delicious and beautiful and you can’t get enough of it — enough of him. The way he draws out and pushes back in has you clenching him tightly, especially when he grazes that spot inside of you. He lurches forward at the feeling.

“There,” you moan, “right there.” He zeroes in, pulling out all the way and slamming back in with so much force you scream his name. Your mouth falls open as he leans up and starts a punishing pace. He’s relentless now what you like, fingers scrambling to get a touch of your chest. A tweak of your nipple, a squeeze of your breast — he gets it all the while you’re coming apart around him.

“Tell me,” he groans after a particularly hard thrust. “When was the last time you were fucked properly.”

You whine, shaking your head. “Haven’t — ah — so long — you’re doing so good — don’t stop.” Your sentences are broken with every thrust of him inside of you. Your tipping closer to the edge, yet not close enough. It’s been months since you’ve had anything and this is almost too much, you’re paralysed with pleasure.

He laps up your neck, supporting himself on one hand. “Nobody? For that long? Fuck, that’s why you’re so tight.” His words are muffled against the hot skin of your throat as he bites down and soothes the sting with his tongue.

“All I wanted was you.”

He snickers, pace not faltering as he kisses you again. It’s hot and open-mouthed and sloppy as his tongue seeks out yours. You’re overwhelmed with him. He seems to get deeper with every thrust, every sound he makes sending a shiver down your spine.

“I’m close,” he groans. “You?”

You suck the pads of your pointer and middle finger into your mouth — his eyes darken upon the sight. All you need is the slick slide of your own fingers against your clit, quick circles to get you on that edge. “Wanna feel you come,” you whine. “Please.”

Jungkook doesn’t stop, he pushes your leg even closer to your chest and watches you rub yourself as his dick disappears inside of you over and over again. Your stomach is tightening, walls clenching him in tightly.

His hips stutter, falling back over you as he comes undone with a deep groan. The feeling of him twitching against your walls is enough to give you that last push. You shudder apart around him, clenching down hard with eyes rolling back into your head. It seems to last forever as he holds you, gently rolling his hips to ride out his peak with you.

You’re both panting, still entangled as you come down. His hair sticks to his forehead, sweat dripping down his neck and your fingers slip on his skin. You’re stuck to the sheets, looking up at his ravished form as you feel him soften inside of you.

A foreign feeling erupts in your chest as he kisses you softly, just once. A small peck that makes you want to giggle with the overflow of feelings.

Jungkook pulls out carefully, and you know that you’re going to be sore tomorrow. He soothes your skin, rubbing your thigh before letting it down from over his shoulder. It’s so sweet, the way he looks at you and asks you if you’re okay.

You laugh at him, startling him a little. “To be blunt with you. I’ve never came that hard from sex and I want to do it again.”

He scrunches up his nose but blushes regardless. “Again?”

“Again.” You confirm with a yawn.

Jungkook discards the condom, pulling the soiled sheet from under you as you point him towards a clean one in your dresser. He drapes it over the both of you as he settles down beside your still numb form. You can’t believe he made you come so hard that you’re still seeing stars now.

You snuggle into his side despite the warmth of the early morning. “Your cheek’s going to bruise.”

“Worth it,” he grins. “We should’ve done this much sooner. “

“I agree.” You kiss the cusp of his shoulders, drawing tiny little patterns on his chest where his heart beats quickly.

Jungkook shifts, looking at you with hopeful eyes. “So?”

“So?”

“What now?” He bites his lip.

You giggle as you realise his shyness. “Is this your way of asking me to be your girlfriend?”

A small kiss is pressed to the tip of your nose. “Maybe,” he whispers. “If you want to.”

“Well…” You trail a finger down his stomach. “Maybe I do.”

“Maybe?”

You lean up, kissing him firmly, just once. “Definitely.”

Special thanks to: @lapysllazuly @jeonkookd @bubypjm @sunshineangelhobi

Let me know if you guys liked it! <3

@mooniva @flowerymoonlight @lunyua @chimycthulhu @lilacdreams-00 @biblionerd @nininek12 @mrcleanheichou @pakovahayhuha @burgeoninggirl @faithsummers11 @angeltothecore @burntrain @ylevolretsnom01 @lachicayolo @cvbachacbitch @kxkth @d-noona @thethiathang Sorry to those who I couldn't tag <3

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tteokdoroki · 3 years ago

Note

BABYGIRLLLL THAT NEW POST OH LORDDDD

first of all my heart break not once but TWICE. i was this 👌 close to call my lawyer but im glad it end well. i was about to throw sum fit and manifest heavy angst when deku forget us but nvm he's too sweet, i mean who can resist him frrr 😩 therefore he's forgiven.

been thinking bout bakery au for awhile now and you feed me with this kskdjsksks thank you cupcake 💛

-🧚‍♀️

RWEEWEWEE IM SO HAPPY YOU LIKED IT

pls do not call your lawyer i am but a broke college student 😔😔⁉️ i couldnt write complete angst for izu i needed to make sure you guys had some good old loving together <33

IM GLAD I COULD FEED YOUR THOUGHTS!! thank you for reading baby <33

#🧚‍♀️ anon #📧. user anonymous #💌. you’ve got mail

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talonsaga-trash · 7 years ago

Text

Rise and Shine, St. Anthony: You Lived, isn’t That Enough?

Summary: Tristan wakes up. And Garret couldn’t be more thankful. But as time goes on, he’s starting to think that Tristan wishes he had just died. (Aka, Tristan learns to deal with the aftermath of having a building fall on him.) Words: So many. A/N: Not as angsty as it sounds. Hopefully. Wait nvm it’s angst so much angst whoops sorry guys. Apparently if you want fluff you have to request it. Disclaimer: Talon? Not mine. Medical expertise? Not my forte. Don’t take my medical things as truth; I’m just a kid with a laptop.

Pain.

That was the first thing Tristan could register.

He couldn’t see, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t figure out which way was up, but he could feel pain. It was everywhere and nowhere at the same time, so overwhelming that he could barely think through it. He couldn’t even tell where it was, he could barely locate his body through it.

He didn’t know how long passed before he could start to sense anything else other than the pain. Mechanical beeping, dim blurs of light behind closed eyelids that were too stiff to force open. Sharp daggers through his throat and abdomen, scraping over his right arm and chest, a crushing weight on his legs. He tried to take a breath and failed, but it felt like there was still oxygen being forced down his throat. He tried to take another breath and coughed, which only made the beeping louder and the pain worse and the lights were getting too bright and there was movement and his chest his chest

“Tristan?” The voice was soft and fractured in his ears, but it pierced through the veil that seemed to be covering his entire body. He knew that person, person attached to the warm hand on his face. What was the name, what was happening? Where was he? “Tristan!”

Garret.

Tristan forced open his eyes and stared up at his partner, who was looking at him with an expression that Tristan couldn’t quite read. Everything was still too blurry, but just seeing Garret next to him made the pain feel more manageable. He tried to smile at him, but that just made everything from his face to his throat hurt. Garret was still speaking to him, but it was hard to make out. He wanted to ask questions, where he was, what had happened, why everything hurt... but he tried to move his lips and felt a sharp pain down his throat from what suddenly felt like a tube. He heart the beeping pick up as he tried to raise an arm to his face. Why was there a tube in his throat?

Garret took his right hand as he tried to move it and kept it at his side, still whispering nonsensical noises to Tristan’s ears. His arm stung and felt heavy, so he didn’t struggle. Garret was there. Garret could give him answers as soon as Tristan could understand him. And his hand was back on his cheek, warm and soft. That was all that mattered.

He wasn’t speaking when Garret was allowed back in the next day.

He still felt a childish anger that he had to wait so long after Doctor Grace shoved him away, despite Tristan’s non-understandable, raspy sings of protest. That in itself was a testament of how much Tristan didn’t want him to leave, considering that he had an oxygen tube in his throat that made any noise painful and any speaking impossible. But after she told him what condition his partner was in he could acknowledge that it was probably for the best that Tristan could be alone as he was informed what had happened. From the state of his body from the state of the Order, he probably needed the solitude to process the wreckage left behind.

“Hi, Tristan,” Garret whispered. Tristan looked at him, exhausted. His breaths were coming out in shallow gasps, but it was a simple relief to see him with a cannula over his face rather than a tube shoved down his throat. He still had IVs in both arms and a two tubes sticking out of his chest and stomach, but it was an improvement. He could breathe by himself.

He hadn’t spoken.

“You can understand me, right?” Tristan nodded to Garret’s question and his eyebrows creased. His raised his arm shakily and ever so carefully flipped him off before letting his arm drop to his side. Garret laughed and Tristan gave a slight smirk, proud of his only possible brand of humor at the moment. “Glad you’re still in there, Trist.”

He snorted slightly and then winced. There were red tracks around his bloodshot eyes and Garret pursed his lips, the temporary happiness leaving him. His partner was alive, and he had just proved that he was still himself. But ‘himself’ was trapped in a body that had been crushed by a building.

Tristan had always hated that chapel.

“Welcome back to the land of the living and all that,” He finally said. He sank into the seat next to Tristan and took his hand. He didn’t twitch or squeeze back, and it broke Garret more than he thought he could be broken. Because Tristan couldn’t. Doctor Grace said that he probably would never be able to feel his left arm again, let alone move it. His right was in a plaster cast up to his shoulder with over thirty screws holding the bone together, but at least he’d be able to move it when the cast came off.

Tristan remained silent and Garret bit his lip.

“It’s... ah... October 23rd, if you hadn’t heard, almost Halloween. I visited Marc on the seventeenth for you, don’t worry about that. It still looks taken care of,” He said. He decided not to mention that he practically begged the gravestone to give his partner back to him. Tristan made a slight gasping sound and Garret squeezed his hand harder. “Can you speak? Grace said— She said...”

Brain damage is a very real possibility, Sebastian. He hasn’t spoken since he woke up. I’m hoping that’s just disorientation, but I can’t tell how far it goes quite yet.

Garret pursed his lips and closed his eyes to stop himself from crying. He wasn’t supposed to be upset, Tristan was alive, Tristan was alive, that was a cause for happiness. But Tristan wasn’t talking, he was barely breathing, he still had tubes sticking out of his stomach and chest, and he might never walk again.

“Sssss,” Tristan whispered. Garret’s head shot up to meet Tristan’s eyes, narrowed with pain and concentration. “Ssss... se...igh’.” His voice was hoarse and tight, but the fact that he had managed to speak, or at least make something related to English words, was enough for Garret to breathe a sigh of relief and almost start crying harder. “Ssss.”

Garret nodded and wiped his eyes. “I feel like I should be the one comforting you.”

Tristan gave a breathy laugh and tried to smile, but the stitches over his face stretched painfully and he stopped.

He didn’t try to speak again. But he could. And he did. That had to be something.

Garret was pretty sure that the moment Tristan’s cast came off he was going try and strangle either Doctor Grace or Garret. Or maybe Ember. Five days of being conscious, four days of Ember coming in to visit him Garret, and two days after accidentally ripping out his feeding tube, Tristan was getting understandably agitated of being surrounded by the same four walls. But no matter how much he sympathized, Garret would rather not be killed by his partner.

“Be agreeable or else Grace is going to get someone else to do this.”

Tristan hissed low in his throat and Garret groaned. Speech was still something he was working on too, though not for lack of trying. But after five days, everything still came out choppy and muddled no matter how hard he tried to form a sentence. Garret would hear him trying to talk to himself during the night when they were both supposed to be sleeping with varying amounts of success, but it usually ended up with him bursting into tears.

“Tristan, please. I know it’s humiliating, but the point stands that you can’t move your arms. So please work with me,” Garret said. Tristan clenched his jaw. “You’re the worst and I will pry your mouth open if I have to.”

If anything, Tristan’s glare darkened even more, blue eyes drilling a hole through his head as he finally did what he was told. Garret shoved a spoonful of oatmeal in his mouth before he could change his mind. Hopefully, that would be the hardest bite, unless he threw up from the taste. Which Garret wouldn’t blame him for doing. Two days of oatmeal and water. Two days of having to be spoon fed everything.

Tristan muttered something completely unintelligible after he swallowed, so muddled and accented that Garret couldn’t even tell if he had tried for English or given up on that front. He accepted the next spoonful grudgingly and then almost coughed it back up. Garret sighed and scraped some off his chin with a spoon, eliciting a whine of what Garret guessed was both frustration and mortification from Tristan.

“You’ll have use of your right arm soon, don’t worry. Then we won’t have to do this anymore,” He promised and gave Tristan some water through a straw. Soon. Like soon he’ll be off oxygen, and soon he’ll be out of bed, and soon he won’t need a tube that keeps his chest from filling with water and blood, and soon he’ll be able to talk without stumbling over his words. Soon.

It was all he could ever offer. To either of them. And even that was a partial lie, because he had no idea how much it was true.

No doubt Tristan was echoing Garret’s thoughts if the twitch in his face was anything to say about it, but again, the ability to speak a long string of words, again, was still a work in progress. Garret saved him the trouble of trying by sticking another spoonful of oatmeal in his mouth before he could protest. Tristan swallowed and pursed his mouth firmly closed as Garret tried to keep getting food into his system.

“C’mon, Tristan. Just get through it bowl,” Garret sighed and Tristan’s glower deepened. “Alright, I get that it’s shitty food, but it’s easy for you to process and super nutritional so please just eat it.” He broke eye contact and looked away. “Please? For your partner?”

“N— ne,” He mumbled and Garret smiled in spite of himself. He more he spoke the more hope it gave them both that he’d recover. Even if he couldn’t use one of his arms ever again, communication was a milestone. But he needed to eat.

“I’m really not kidding. I can and I will pry your mouth open if you don’t cooperate, Grace told me to get you to eat something by any means possible.”

Tristan growled at him and opened his mouth again, letting Garret continue to spoon feed him.

“Thank you.”

“F— Fu—Fuck—” Tristan shook his head and closed his eyes in frustration before he whispered something that Garret couldn’t understand but could figure out the connotation of pretty quickly.

“That works too.”

Nights were the worst.

Pain pain pain pain pain pain pain. Tristan shut his eyes tightly. Five days since he woke up and he was deeply regretting the decision. His ribs were broken in six places and cracked in countless others, his right lung had been punctured and was still struggling to function. His legs... well. Doctor Grace was likely correct in assuming there was too much damage to walk again; he wasn’t even sitting up and the pain of their were existence it was too much.

At least in the day Garret was awake.

At least he’s allowed in during the night.

Garret. He was sleeping in the chair beside him, chest to the back of it for some support, holding what Tristan knew was his left hand. It didn’t help. He couldn’t grip back. He couldn’t feel Garret’s hand in his. He couldn’t feel anything after the pinching in his shoulder.

Nights were the worst because they made a pit of despair rise up inside of him, because he was a soldier and he needed to fight and he wanted to move and he couldn’t even breathe and he’d never be able to ever again, and at night there wasn’t Garret’s whispered promise of a someday, someday, someday to keep his mind off of the helplessness and the pain and the gut wrenching fact that someday might never come, and he could be trapped in something little more than a corpse. Forever.

“Tristan?” Garret muttered and yawned. “You’re crying again.”

He was. That was probably why it was even harder than normal to breathe. He tried to take a deeper breath, but that only made his throat burn and he coughed harshly, the pipe travelling into his nearly collapsed lung grating against his sides, and it hurt, everything hurt, why couldn’t he just stop crying?

“What’s wrong?” Garret asked once the coughing subsided and he was back to trying to stifle his tears. He wanted to tell Garret everything swimming around in his head, about how he felt trapped in a body that was no longer designed for him, how much everything hurt, how scared he was that he would never feel whole again. But he couldn’t. There was no way his mouth would cooperate for that long. So he just shook his head and hoped that the pain would go away for long enough for him to sleep.

He just wanted to sleep until the someday that Garret promised. The someday that could never come.

Garret brought Tristan’s limp hand to his lips for a second before lowering it again. “Hurts?” Tristan nodded and Garret sighed. He set the hand down and absentmindedly ran a hand through Tristan’s hair, trying not to irritate the scabs and stitches over his head. “Is this helping?”

Nothing helps. Tristan couldn’t stop crying. Garret shushed him and continued to stay by his bedside, whispering of promised somedays that Tristan felt would never ever come to pass.

“The pain isn’t forever,” Neither of us know that. “Just... you can get through this. We’ll go one day at a time.” None of these days are getting better. “For now try for some sleep tonight, okay?” I wish I had never woken up.

I wish you hadn’t pulled me out of the chapel.

Garret had settled into a schedule. Wake up next to Tristan. Fight him through a bowl of oatmeal before handing his care to Grace. Go over to the building with the hatchlings, check on Ember and share a breakfast with her and usually Jade or Wes. Eat lunch around noon before heading back to the infirmary to fight through another bowl of oatmeal. Sometimes stay for another hour, but usually go back to Ember. At eight, return to the infirmary and spend the night.

Which was why it was so surprising to be woken at 500 before the sun had risen.

From screaming.

Garret’s head shot up as he heard it, gravelly and fractured and wrong, Tristan’s hand clenching down on his as he writhed. He hadn’t been able to move so much ever since he woke up, and Garret could tell that it was just causing him even more pain. The heart monitor was beeping frantically as Tristan’s scream quieted into ragged gasps.

“Ko—” Tristan fought out before he inhaled sharply to let out a groan. “K—”

Garret knelt beside him, energy pouring into his body with nothing to put it towards, he couldn’t help, he didn’t know what was wrong, his lungs could be collapsing and he wouldn’t be able to stop it. He clenched Tristan’s hand back and tried to stop his struggles from ripping anything out, but he didn’t know what else to do. Grace had to have been alerted, that much he knew, but she wasn’t there and Tristan was in agony and Garret didn’t know what to do. Was he dying? Tristan couldn’t die now, not after he woke up...

The curtain was pulled aside and the Doctor pushed Garret away, speaking to a frantic Tristan in a low voice and trying to get an assessment while he tried to thrash and move to a position where everything hurt less. Garret closed his eyes and looked away, halfway wishing that he couldn’t hear anything because then he wouldn’t have to hear what could be his partner dying.

His screaming quieted and the heart monitor evened out before Garret opened his eyes. Doctor Grace took the syringe out of the IV drip and sighed, running a hand over her face before laughing to herself.

“Is he...” Garret whispered and looked down at his partner, eyes cloudy but at least no longer in pain. “Is he alright?”

“This boy has angels looking out for him,” She whispered to herself before she made eye contact with Garret. She offered him a smile, something that she hadn’t done ever since he had returned. “He can feel his arm again.”

Something that Tristan learned within five minutes of waking up was that being able to feel his arm was very different from being able to use it.

Even with painkillers running through his system it hurt, every twitch he forced sending electrical pain up to his shoulder. When Garret took his hand again he could barely keep the hiss in his throat. He tried to squeeze back, but his hand still felt weak and stiff and painful. Like whatever signals it sent back to his brain had been put through a butcher’s shop.

And being on painkillers. Not fun.

Any ability to speak in any language had been stripped from him. He had been able to get staple words and phrases out. “Yes” and “No” and “Thanks” the occasional “Fuck you”. And no matter how little that was, he could listen to Garret talk, and he spoke enough for the both of them. But the painkillers blunted everything, pain, sight, and thoughts included. He could barely piece together his thoughts, and he definitely couldn’t formulate them into any words, let alone English. He couldn’t even understand Garret for the most part.

He was completely isolated.

The first day was the same, just quieter. He didn’t offer any resistance when Garret spoon fed him his meals that made him want to vomit. Garret made noises that Tristan knew were words and could sometimes understand individually, but he stopped speaking as much when he realized that Tristan couldn’t process anything. Tristan wished that he would keep talking. His voice was beautiful.

When he woke up on the second day, he was gone. Doctor Grace was in and out, hooking up another IV in his chest before saying a quick explanation that he couldn’t understand. He kept waiting for Garret to show up with a smile, but the day passed and he didn’t come. Nor did he come the next day, or the day after that. When Grace started to force his arm to work while still under the influence of painkillers he wasn’t there to try and make it easier, nor was he there when a nightmare of the collapse made him wake up gasping, still immobile and defenseless. He wasn’t there to tell him that the people he saw during the night weren’t real.

Tristan didn’t ask what happened. He was too afraid.

“I need to stay with the hatchlings and I don’t want Wes to go alone," He said. “Should just be getting into the IT rooms, simple recon,” He said. “Four hours tops,” He said. Garret rubbed his eyes as he and Wes drove into the Chapterhouse to be met with a highly anxious Ember. She hugged him before he could even get out of his seat.

“Riley’s already told me what happened, are you hurt?” She asked.

“Nothing too bad. I wasn’t the one who managed to nearly blow up the IT room and has an electrical burn over his chest and left arm,” Garret raised his voice and glared at Wes, who shrugged unapologetically and then winced. He had, surprisingly, been near completely silent on the eight hour trip back, and didn’t seem like he was going to talk now that they were back on semi-safe grounds. He just nodded at the two of them and walked towards the building that housed them. Probably to assure Riley that he was still alive and alright for the most part.

Garret had more important thing to focus on.

It had been three days since he last saw Tristan.

Ember went with him, holding his hand in her own for some small comfort as they entered the infirmary. Every soldier that was still in the infirmary had a separation curtain, but there was an open one where Angelo was sitting up in bed with a somewhat vacant expression. He flipped off Garret when he passed and Garret smiled back before he found Tristan’s bed.

“I’ll— uh...” Ember pursed her lips before she kissed him gently and gave him a reassuring smile. “I’ll meet you back at our compound.” Garret nodded. No doubt that it would be best for him and Tristan to be alone.

“Hi, Tristan,” Garret said as he pulled the curtain aside. Tristan turned his head towards Garret and smiled, raising his right arm slightly in greeting. He seemed better, but still obviously high on painkillers. Talking wasn’t going to be a possibility, then.

“I missed you,” Garret whispered. He took Tristan’s hand, which caused him to hiss slightly from the pain. Garret dropped it and sat down. “I was on a mission to a Talon base. We got what we needed and destroyed the servers... it felt like something for a spy rather than a soldier, but I’m adapting. You probably would have done better. You’re— You were—” The words felt bitter in Garret’s mouth and he shut himself down. Tristan looked at him, blue eyes glassy and not understanding a word.

“You’ll get better once you’re off painkillers. It’ll get easier.”

It did. Kind of.

It was obvious that Tristan was still in pain, every movement of his right arm would cause an unwilling whimper to escape his throat, his breathing became more shallow, and he’d twitch fitfully in his sleep. But he knew what was going on. He’d reply when Garret spoke, usually without speech but occasionally with a painful word dragged out of his unwilling mouth. After another week he exchanged a plaster cast for a cast brace and was struggling through another bowl of oatmeal. Except this time, the largest issue was that he wanted to smash the bowl and all of its contents onto Garret face.

“Fuhin’ o— oat... fuck.” Tristan glared at the bowl as if it had personally offended him and then looked at Garret beseechingly.

“I would get you different food if I could, Tristan. But alas, I’m not the medic in charge of you. Grace is. Take it up with her.”

Tristan sighed and stabbed the spoon into the paste, looking ready to throw up and he tried to force it into his mouth. It was slow, and it was painful, and Garret had needed to hold up Tristan’s right hand multiple times because it decided to stop working, but he was getting somewhere.

Tristan dropped his spoon and closed his eyes tightly, trying to swear and tripping over the words. Garret could sense the tears right before they came and considered looking away. He hated when Tristan cried, especially now that he couldn’t ever explain why. He took the bowl out of his partner’s hands and moved from the chair to sit on the edge of the bed. Tristan was still trying to stop the tears dripping town his face. Garret sighed and put his arm around his partner’s shoulders, holding him tight.

They could start again the next day.

It was another week before Tristan was cleared to leave the infirmary. It took two hours for Doctor Grace to get him ready due to taking out the IVs and tube from his chest, giving him his physical therapy packet, and then adjusting a wheelchair so he could properly use it.

Wheelchair.

Grace said that it would hopefully be temporary, that maybe in a few months he wouldn’t need to use it. But Garret could tell that she said it mostly for Tristan’s sake. It would hopefully be temporary. At he moment it was still a struggle to move it by himself, so Garret was stayed by his side as he made his way across the stone.

“S’allrigh’, Arreh— Car—” Tristan shook his head and gave a slight smile to hide the frustration rolling off of him in waves. Garret cursed his own name for a moment, the ‘G’ had always been difficult to pronounce for Tristan. Now it was as good as impossible. “S’alrigh’. I’m... well.”

Garret offered a small smirk and flick his forehead. “‘Well’. Pretentious bastard.”

“Fffuck. You. C— Kh— Fuck. Jarret,” Tristan wheeled himself onward with determination. It was still unbelievably slow. Garret narrowly avoided giving into the temptation to push the wheelchair himself multiple times as they made their way to the isolated complex where the rogue dragons were sleeping. And Tristan— as he wouldn’t be able to climb the stairs to his room— was sharing a room.

“It’s just like old times, huh?” Garret whispered almost to himself. “I... I miss it, sometimes. The chapterhouse, the training, even the shitty meals that I still don’t trust.” Tristan snorted a bit and nodded. Garret pursed his lips. “You.” Mostly you.

That made them both pause, Tristan’s scarred, shaking hands gripping the wheels.

“Y... Yeh. I miss you. misssst. Mis— missed.” Tristan cleared his throat and started over. “I missed you, too.”

He smiled to himself softly, but it was more real than anything Garret had seen for a while. It was proud, and Garret felt a rush of pride and happiness for his partner to match it. It was his first full sentence in days, and it might have been his first sentence that didn’t have any mistakes.

He was breathing by himself. He wasn’t bedridden. He was speaking. It was a start.

A/N: I think there will be more later, but until then, have this angst wagon! At least he can speak, right? And, a note on disability: I am well aware that a lot of Tristan’s thoughts are super narrow minded. I am aware that it’s unhealthy to think like that. I did this on purpose. He’s used to having a working body. This would be a huge adjustment period for him and would take a lot of time to accept. Thank you for your understanding.

#The Talon Saga #The Talon Series #Legion #Julie Kagawa #Tristan St. Anthony #Garret Xavier Sebastian #Inferno Placeholder tag #Tristan needs a better nap than this #Talon-Trash #Rise and Shine St. Anthony

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