#and hanahaki? SO well written | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

weemssapphic · 6 months

Note

Good evening, my internet-lawfully wedded wife. I would like to request that Hanahaki Phasma story please? 🥺🥺🥺

Hello 💖 Thanks for the request, lovely 🥺 I finally had an idea for how to write this and I am very happy with how it turned out - and nervous as I've never written for Phasma before. I hope you like it, regardless of the angst 🥺 Thank you to @dianneking for beta-ing and helping me with the title, it means a lot 🫶🏼

Forget-me-not

Captain Phasma x f!reader

Summary: Of all the people you could’ve fallen in love with, it had to be Captain Phasma. Could your love for her be your death sentence?

Words: ~3.1k | ao3 link in title

Content/warnings: Hanahaki disease trope, angst, no happy ending, mentions of blood + death, character death, briefly nsfw (light smut - minors DNI)

Icy blue eyes stare deeply into your own, pale pink lips are curled up into a devilish, seductive smirk. Phasma’s face is flushed and her pupils are dilated as she watches you come undone above her, bucking your hips against her and coating her abdomen in your arousal as you chase your high.

You’ve had sex with Phasma a handful of times now, which is strange in and of itself. You’ve heard plenty of stories about her since starting with the First Order – stories of one-night stands, lovers being used, abused, and discarded – threatened into silence, fired, even disappearing.

It would be dangerous to assume that you’re special – that you somehow mean more to Phasma than the other women she’s slept with. No one means anything to Phasma, that is one thing she has made abundantly clear. Phasma is the only person who means anything to Phasma. Everyone else is disposable, a means to an end – in this case, the end being her own sexual pleasure.

But then why has she let you into her bed time and time again? At first, she was demanding and dominating, relentless; taking, taking, taking. You cried during your first time with her – you were so overstimulated, yet she wouldn’t let up, and she punished you any time you tried to touch her. After that, you feared you’d be discarded like the rest – but then it happened again. And again. And then, one night, Phasma even allowed you to touch her. Watching the Captain Phasma reach the height of her pleasure on your fingers was something akin to a religious experience – you were ready to worship the woman, to give your soul over to her after hearing her moan and feeling her body shudder against your own. She’d taken her helmet off for the first time that night as well – you were immediately struck by her beauty. The planes of her face had a softness to them that had thrown you off-guard, her eyes – blue, oh so blue, oceans you could drown in – felt hypnotizing as they pierced your own. She’d been reluctant at first, but somehow – somehow – you’d managed to convince her – it must get quite hot and uncomfortable under that helmet after all. After the threat of torture methods that you hadn’t even heard of, ensuring you would never so much as think of telling a soul about seeing the great Captain without her helmet, she’d revealed her face to you.

And now, looking down at that charismatic, captivating smirk through the lustful haze of your fourth orgasm, you know you’ve gone and made the most fatal error you could possibly make.

You’ve fallen in love with Captain Phasma.

~~~

And what a fatal error, indeed.

After your latest rendezvous in Phasma’s quarters, you see her next at training the following morning. The bright fluorescent lights bounce off the chrome of her armor, flawlessly polished – though your mind is rather stuck on what lies underneath. Silken blonde locks, slicked back to emphasize her cheekbones, the curve of her jaw. Long, muscular arms and large, slender hands; rock-hard abs and legs that seem to go on for miles, with thick thighs that you can’t help but picture wrapping around your head. After seeing the fearsome Captain outside of her armor, you fear you can never unsee it – and you’ll always be left wanting, yearning for more.

Perhaps there would be a way to convince her that you’re worth more than a quick fuck – you can’t stop thinking about those strong arms wrapping around your waist in your post-coital haze, fingertips tenderly caressing your bare flesh as soft lips press chaste kisses all over your face. You would look into her eyes – which would fill with affection – and tell her you love her, and she would say it back with a smile on her face.

Cough.

You’re caught by surprise at the sound that bubbles forth from your chest, tickling your throat.

“FN-196, is something the matter?”

Phasma’s voice is cool and collected – dangerous. You shouldn’t have made a peep – but you can’t help it. Another cough tickles the back of your throat and forces its way out – you try to stifle it but that just makes the coughing fit worse.

“N-no-“ cough “I’m sorry-” cough “It w-wo-“ cough “It won’t happen again, Captain.”

You clear your throat awkwardly and straighten your back as Phasma stalks towards you, stopping right in front of you. She’s inches away from your face, though she’s tall enough that you’d have to crane your head back just a bit to look up at her. You don’t – you think she might kill you if you do, so you look straight ahead at your reflection in her armor.

She looks down at you for a moment, her head tilted ever so slightly – you wish you knew what she was thinking. Does she really hold any shred of affection for you, does she favor you at all? Or is she plotting the quickest way to dispose of you?

“One more sound and I’ll have you scrubbing TIE fighters all weekend.”

Merciful.

You nod curtly. “Yes, Captain.” You don’t dare say anything else.

~~~

After your little coughing fit, you briefly worry that you’ve caught a cold. You seem to be in the clear, however – you don’t cough again after that, not for a few days.

But then it happens again, as you’re walking past Phasma in the corridor. One moment you’re fine, the next you look up and see her walking towards you. You come to a halt and step aside to allow her to pass, a sign of respect. She affords you the smallest of nods – an acknowledgement that makes you swoon – and that’s when it happens. You cough, more violently this time, as though your lungs have run out of air and are shriveling up as a result.

Phasma stops in her tracks and turns towards you, staring. Waiting for the coughing to stop. It does, eventually, and you feel your cheeks burn. You know she can’t see it underneath your helmet, but you’re certain she can sense your embarrassment in the way your shoulders droop and your hands begin to fidget as you stutter out an apology.

“Are you ill?”

“N-no, Captain, I don’t think so.” You shuffle from foot to foot – you can feel another coughing fit coming on, and you really don’t want Phasma to be around for that. “Just a tickle, must’ve breathed in some dust.” Right. Through your helmet. As if Phasma would believe that.

She hums, giving you a once over. You squirm.

“Good.”

She turns and starts to walk away. “Come to my quarters tomorrow night.”

Your heart flutters as you watch her round the corner, disappearing from view.

Cough.

~~~

“Mmh, oh- f-fuck,” you mewl, as Phasma’s hips slam into yours at a brutal pace, her dildo disappearing inside of you as she thrusts the entire length into your cunt. A bead of sweat collects at her temple, rolling slowly down her flushed cheek. Her hair sticks to her forehead, falling into her eyes – hungry eyes that devour you as she ravishes you. Her lips are parted to let out quiet grunts, her abs ripple with exertion and her biceps flex as she holds herself above you.

Your eyes roll back in your head as the dildo reaches deep inside of you – your breath quickens and you feel a guttural moan tear from your throat as your orgasm hits you, your walls clenching around Phasma’s cock. She’s relentless – she doesn’t let up, fucking you through your orgasm and even after, as you sink into the mattress and try desperately to regulate your breathing.

Phasma reaches her own peak and tumbles over it, and it’s a glorious sight. Her jaw goes slack and her eyelids fall shut, a broken moan slips past her lips. Her entire body trembles a bit and her hips stutter in their movements. The fact that she can get off by watching you cum is incredibly arousing to you, and it makes you feel special.

She removes the harness and the dildo and tosses it on the floor beside the bed, before lying down next to you – not to cuddle, no, never to cuddle – just to rest for a moment and recover from her orgasm. You turn your head to glance over at her. Her eyes are shut, allowing you to admire her openly. She’s breathing heavily, her cheeks are red, her forehead is sweaty. She looks heavenly, divine even.

You wish she would let you wrap your arms around her waist and pull her close. You wish she would let you feel her lips against your own. You wish she would let you card your fingers through her hair and caress her jaw and tell her how much you love her, and you wish she would say it back. You wish-

Cough.

Oh no. Not again.

Phasma’s eyes shoot open and she looks over at you, raising an eyebrow. You avoid her gaze as your lungs constrict and you cough again, and again. Something tickles your throat – it’s as if something is stuck there. You cough harder – it has to come out. Covering your mouth, you cough again, and feel something soft hit your palm.

A small, blue flower petal. Your eyes widen in horror as you stare at the petal in your hand.

No. No, no, no, no. It can’t be. It can’t-

“What is that?” Phasma asks. Her brows are knit together and she cranes her neck to try and get a look.

“N-nothing” cough “it’s nothing.”

But Phasma isn’t one for playing games. Long, slender fingers curl around your wrist, vice-like in their strength – a snake devouring its prey, and she forces you to show her what you’ve coughed up.

Her upper lip twitches.

A billion micro-expressions cross her face, too quickly for you to place any one of them. When she looks you in the eyes a moment later, her face is devoid of any expression at all.

“It’s time you leave. Don’t be late for training tomorrow.”

You don’t need to be told twice – the hard edge to her voice scares you, so you clamber out of her bed and dress as quickly and as quietly as you can, your cheeks burning as you feel Phasma watching your every move. You hurry to leave, leaving the flower petal nestled among the sheets.

Phasma stares at it as you leave. She knows what it means. She’s no fool – she’s seen the way you look at her, how eager you are to please her – both in work and in sex.

An intense, burning rage fills Phasma - her insides suddenly feel like molten lava, her heart pounds viciously. If you die, Phasma will lose one of her best stormtroopers - and one of her best lovers. And you will die, if it's Phasma you’re in love with.

It’s not that she doesn’t want to love you back. There’s a reason she’s let you warm her bed for so long, after all. You’re skilled with your tongue, certainly, and you look so enticing when you’re being fucked into oblivion. But there’s something else – something Phasma doesn’t quite understand, something she’s never felt before. It’s not love, at least she doesn’t think it is – it’s nothing like how other people describe love, a feeling that Phasma doesn’t ever recall feeling.

But it’s something, and it’s been so long since Phasma has felt anything. Around you, in those brief moments after sex just before she kicks you out of her bed, she feels just a little lighter. Her usual anger is subdued, a dying ember where there’s usually a roaring flame.

It’s not enough, though. She knows this. She knows you know this – you must know this.

You’re a fool – a damned fool – Phasma thinks. Only an idiot would fall in love with her.

~~~

As is to be expected, your illness gets worse. You begin to disrupt training with your coughing – Phasma finds this annoying as is, but what she finds even more annoying is the unfamiliar sense of guilt that gnaws at her stomach, knowing she’s the cause of your… distress.

She dismisses you from training – the others will get suspicious, and your performance is lacking anyway. It’s best if you stay in your quarters.

She goes to check on you one day, in the middle of the night. Briefly, she wonders if she should have come at a more reasonable hour, but then she hears the coughing through your door and she knows you haven’t been able to fall asleep yet anyway.

You answer the door, your eyes bleary and your face pale. There’s blood trickling down your chin and a few small, crushed flower petals cling to the sweaty fabric of your nightgown. And yet, you smile at her. She tilts her head – why are you smiling? You’re a fool – a damned fool.

“It’s progressed then?” she asks. The modulator in her helmet keeps her voice level, and for that she is grateful.

Your eyes fill with sadness but your smile – soft, gentle – never wavers. You nod and open your mouth to speak, but you’re interrupted by another coughing fit, and bloody flower petals spill out of your mouth and onto Phasma’s boots.

Phasma looks down at the stained chrome, then back up at you.

“I-I’m” cough “sorry” wheeze “I-I’ll c-clean it-“

“Leave it.”

Your eyes widen and your cheeks redden, but you don’t dare argue.

Phasma turns her head to the right, then to the left. The corridor is empty. She takes a step towards you, into your quarters, until she’s nearly flush against you. Lifting her hands to her head, she removes her helmet, and cool blue eyes pierce your own. Your smile is back now, and she doesn’t understand – in fact, it makes her a little uncomfortable. A smile like that has rarely been directed at her (even if there is blood dribbling down your chin and your eyes are slightly unfocused) – it takes all her willpower to maintain eye contact.

“You shouldn’t have fallen in love with me.” Her tone is lacking noticeably in bite, though neither of you acknowledge this fact.

“I know.”

Cough.

“You’ll die.”

“I know.”

Wheeze.

Phasma’s lip twitches and her eyes dart between your own. Your smile is steady and true, even as your eyes fill with tears.

Phasma knows what she should say – what anyone else in her position would say. ‘I’m sorry’. Except she can’t say it, because she isn’t. Is she? She’s unsure – she’s never actually felt sorry for anything, not even for betraying her own family. Why should some random woman, a subordinate of hers at that, change that?

She remains silent. She nods curtly. You stifle another cough as you nod back, blinking slowly – it appears as though, somehow, you understand. As though you know that Phasma even bothering to show up in your quarters at all before your body leaves this galaxy is nothing short of a goddamn miracle.

“You d-don’t h-have” cough “to love me b-back. Just d-don’t” cough “for-forget me.”

You chuckle. Phasma doesn’t think it’s funny. She blinks, puts her helmet back on.

“Goodnight, FN-196.”

She doesn’t spare you another glance as she leaves.

~~~

Early one morning, Phasma is called to your quarters – as your superior, if something has happened, she needs to be informed.

And Phasma immediately knows what’s happened. Underneath her helmet, her eyes scan your body – limp, pale, covered in blood and flower petals. Even worse off than the last time she saw you. Usually, such a gory sight stirs up a sort of crazed bloodlust deep within Phasma’s soul, a gleeful sort of giddiness. Only now, when it’s you covered in blood and sweat, unmoving, she feels no such thing.

Her lips curl into a frown – wrong way, wrong way, she should be smiling! She shouldn’t be upset!

Sometimes, when one is confronted with death, they regret. They think of all the things they wished they’d said, they wish for one more moment with the person they care for.

Phasma doesn’t regret. She knows she couldn’t have told you how she feels about you anyway. How does she feel about you? Perhaps, she could have told you that when she’s with you, she feels for the first time. But would that have been enough to save you? No, probably not. And perhaps it’s better this way. It would have gotten messy – Phasma doesn’t mix work and relationships (only casual sex, only ever casual sex, only with people who are disposable). She’s not even sure she was built for a relationship – in fact, she’s certain she wasn’t.

So, no, Phasma doesn’t wish for one more moment with you in which she would profess her undying love (is she capable of such a thing?) and see the bright smile on your face when you realize your affection is returned. But her heart does ache a little – just a little twinge, really, in a very foreign sort of way – and, when she thinks of never feeling your silken skin under her fingertips again, her stomach twists.

The stormtrooper tilts his head. “What should I do with her, Captain?”

Phasma’s gaze never leaves your body, even as she’s addressed directly. What should one do with you? The thought of doing anything at all makes her heart clench.

But she can’t show weakness.

She can’t.

She swallows thickly. Discreetly.

Blinks twice.

Then her face hardens. The stormtrooper can’t see it underneath her helmet anyway, but it’s part of her mask. She has to play the part if she’s going to keep the respect of her troops. Self-preservation has always been vital to her, after all.

“Take her away.”

The stormtrooper shrugs and slings your body over his shoulder, before carrying you out of the room – carelessly, like a doll. Phasma grits her teeth – you should be treated like a precious thing, carried bridal style and showered with kiss- no. What is she thinking? You’re nothing but a corpse now, it hardly matters how your body is treated. Except, for some reason, it matters a lot to Phasma, though she cannot let on to that.

She waits.

She waits until the door closes and the footsteps of the stormtrooper’s boots against the cold metal floor fade.

Her gaze falls to the floor where, amongst a few droplets of blood, a single, tiny, blue forget-me-not petal rests.

A single tear drips down her cheek, catching on the inside of her helmet.

Taglist: @alexusonfire @brienneswife @rosieathena @pro-weems-places @bigolgay @kimiinou @imprincipalweemspet @h-doodles @bychrissi @katie-bennet @giogwensversion @gela123 @friskyfisher @justcallmelittleone @michi2504 @scream-queenlover @a-queen-and-her-throne @sequoirius @anne-lister @winterfireblond @imgayforwoman69 @Ssappling2004 @fictionalized-lesbian @i-like-reading @aemilia19 @milfsloverblog @missdowling @billiedeansbitch @The_Demon_of_your_Dream @agathaandgwenslesbian @http-sam @Cute-catx @saltrage @renravens @opheliauniverse @zillahofviolets-bayolet @scarlettssub @catechristiestuff @niceminipotato @barbarasstar @women-are-so-ethereal @thevillagegay @willowshadenox @lilfartbox1 @larissaoftarthweems @thesamesweetie @rainbow-hedgehog @daydream-cement @im-a-carnivorous-plant @milfomaniac @gwens0girl

Join my taglist here!

#captain phasma x reader #phasma x reader #captain phasma #phasma #so nervous for this dhfhdjghfdjhgfdj

234 notes · View notes

iknowsescapingjourneys · 5 months

Text

Synopsis: Being in love with Coriolanus Snow is putting her life in his hands. She trusts he'll treat it kindly. She trusts wrong.

aka: reader has hanahaki disease for a man she's not sure is even capable of having feelings.

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Reader ; third person perspective

Words: 5.7k

18+, mdni

tw: author's first smut, brief mentions of vomiting, suffocation, mentions of blood, unrequited love, death, angst, handjobs, oral (male receiving), headpushing, minor humiliation, nipple play, nonconsensual oral (female receiving) if you squint (reader gets overstimulated and wants to stop, coryo doesn't), piv, unprotected sex, creampie, minor orgasm denial

a/n: please let me know how this is, i have never written smut in my life but this man deserved it.

_________________ ✾✾✾ _________________

Roses.

What a lovely flower. The overlapping intricacies of the petals, the meadow honey musk that filled the air in their presence. The romantic connotations. The connotation to him.

What a lovely flower indeed.

She’d found they were awfully persistent too. Her knees were raw and red from the recurrent contact on the cold marble floors of the Academy bathroom. Bloodied petals littered the water of the gaudy gold toilet bowl, an attempt of the Capitol’s to show off wealth they’d only just regained after the war.

Her trembling frame lurched forward once more with another fit of coughs mixed with the sickening feeling of needing to vomit. She was well aware that nothing from any of her meals would find their way back up, but the nauseousness in and of itself was enough to find herself desperately wishing the agonizingly long school day would be over. More than anything she wanted to curl into her plush mattress and excessive amount of blankets and drift off to a slumber full of dreams of a better life.

Maybe a life where she wasn’t plagued by unrequited love. Crushes, she’d dealt with. She wasn’t exactly used to rejection, but she was certainly able to realize when she wasn’t someone’s cup of tea and excuse herself. Crushes weren’t the same thing as being in love though. That was something she was well aware of.

To fall in love was to put your life into another person’s hands. In fate’s hands, even. A good person would cherish and appreciate the paramount responsibility that had been placed upon them and do anything in their power to ensure that no harm was caused. Unfortunately, even the best of people can’t compel themselves to truly love someone that they don’t harbor genuine feelings for.

So in the grand scheme of things, all she could really do was force the remaining petals up her throat and into the water below her tear streaked face, rise to her feet, and flush the toilet on the way out of the stall. She stopped for a moment when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, drudging forward until she was face to face with herself.

She wasn’t sure if she still recognized that woman. The dark circles under her eyes, the smear of red at the corner of her lips. The light in her eyes drained to a pitiful dullness. She turns the sink on, wetting her thumb and dragging it along the corner of her mouth. At least that was something she could fix.

Her hands smoothed out the skirt of her uniform, and she did an unsteady spin in front of the large mirror to ensure that she was looking, at the very least, presentable. When she was tolerant of her appearance, she pushed the large wood door open, scampering back into the hallway and back to a class she hadn’t been able to focus on for the last week and a half.

A dozen eyes flickered to her face when she came in through the side entrance, though she found only one lingered on her after all the others had returned to the papers on their desk.

There was an entire ocean in that gaze. An entire sky. The entirety of the very planet they stood on swirled in the orbs that followed her from the door to her seat. His thin lips curled into a polite smile and she felt her heart skip a beat, accompanied by that ever familiar itch in her throat. She pressed the back of a shaky hand to her lips and muffled a cough, hoping to ease the feeling.

Coriolanus Snow was beauty incarnate. Platinum blond curls that fell in his face when he was deep in thought, sharp features that softened when he spoke about something that excited him, and those eyes. She could get lost in them. Some days she was sure she already had.

Ever perceptive, she watched as the blond cocked an eyebrow at her, a silent question. She waved him off with a less than convincing hand movement, which only caused him to cock his eyebrow higher.

Her second attempt was slightly more convincing with a jesty eye roll and a significantly more convincing wave of her hand, which she’d finally managed to subdue the shakiness in.

Still, it was no surprise that when the class had been dismissed and she’d finished collecting her things, Coriolanus was waiting outside of the classroom for her. His large hand found the small of her back, easily guiding her into the divot between a classroom and the hallway. She shuddered as the pad of his thumb brushed against the corner of her lip, the feeling quickly bringing on a coughing fit she had to turn away from him to subdue.

“You’d flounder as an actress.” His voice fills the air, and her body stiffens. He was far from stupid, and she’d known that from the beginning. Still, she’d thought at this point that she was doing well enough to hide it so that she’d be able to finish out the school year.

She turned to him, heart so far into her stomach that she could feel it thudding there, only adding to the nauseousness that was flooding her system once more.

“I never claimed to be a good liar.” She responds, her eyes falling to the crimson liquid pooled on his thumb. Delightful.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks, taking a step forward, and she takes a step back on instinct. The muscles in his arm flex like he’s holding himself back from doing something, and she finds herself wishing he’d either touch her or go the fuck away.

There’s a tone to his voice that she doesn’t quite recognize. It’s certainly not loving, but it’s not feeling like rejection either. She tries to clear her throat, (easier said than done), before she croaks out, “I didn’t think you’d want anything to do with me.”

To be fair, her reluctance doesn’t come from any form of self depreciation. She knew Coriolanus though, and she knew that in the entirety of the time she’d known him, he’d never shown interest in any of their fellow classmates. He always seemed too busy to bother with the base instincts of attraction. There had even been a rumor at one point that the Snow heir had been asexual, far too logical to indulge in senseless behaviors such as romance.

His voice dips lower for a moment, “Assumptions are rarely beneficial.” The words come out in a drawl, or at least, they replay in her head that way. He takes another step forward and her back hits the walls roughly, unaware that she’d run out of space.

“Let me walk you home. We can talk about this more in private.” He offers his hand, long nimble fingers stretched out in a proposition. She takes it carefully, each one of her manicured fingers individually slotting themselves between his. The feeling sends warmth through her frame, spreading out through each and every nerve in her body. She finds herself squeezing it idly, almost in an attempt to reassure herself that the events were grounded in reality. When he squeezes her smaller hand back, she allows some of the tension to flood from her body.

Coriolanus is nothing short of a gentleman the entire walk home. He opens the doors for her, walks on the side of the sidewalk nearest the road, and pulls her closer when they walk past a group of men that he surmises makes her uncomfortable. Her heart pounds so wildly that she makes him stop halfway to her family home so that can clear her throat of the abundance of silky petals that had jammed themselves in the soft tissue.

She’s surprised at how gentle he is with her, the way his hands collect her hair and hold it out of her face, how his free one strokes up and down her back to comfort her. She has to stop him despite her appreciation when it only causes more coughing.

It’s not unusual when she finds her home empty when they finally arrive. Her parents, ever busy people, tended to not return until sometime in the late evening when her mother would throw a meal she’d prepared into the oven, and they’d have a silent and often uncomfortable family dinner. A true Capitol tradition, if her friend’s accounts were to be believed. She found herself wondering if anyone in the “happiest place in Panem” actually even liked each other.

When she wiped her lips and felt the sticky, hot blood transfer to the back of her hand, she was reminded of why so many affluent names might stifle those emotions.

“Can I get you anything? A water? Some apple juice?” She knew that was showing off by her offer of fruit juice, still such a scarcity in the Capitol. Agriculture had been hit hard in the war. But Coriolanus was in her home, and she was going to pull out all of the stops.

His lips twitched up into a smile, and her heart fluttered once again. “Water is fine. I won’t waste your delicacies.” He responds modestly, and she’s reminded again of what a gentleman he is. She knew that her parents would approve. Now she just needed to play her cards right. Nothing in the world sounded quite as sweet as being paraded on the arm of the young man of Snow.

She happily pours him a glass of water, the thick engravings of their family crest sparkling in the ray of sunshine that slipped through the silk curtains. Wealth was something her family far from lacked.

Love, however, was scarce.

She hoists herself onto the marble counters, watching him as he sips from the glass. She can’t help but to think to herself that she could sit here for the eternity of the day, watching his lips part around the cup and his Adam's apple bob with each sip.

The silence should be awkward, and she worries that it is for him, but she finds herself woefully unable to figure out where to begin a conversation like this. She lets out a breath of relief she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding when he rises to his feet, sets the water on the dining room table, and begins speaking for her.

“I’m astounded that someone as beautiful as you could be fearful that a man would not reciprocate their feelings.” He says, and his voice is so hushed and he’s suddenly so close to her that she can feel her throat close up in a mix of anxiety and absolute and utter infatuation.

“You always seemed so preoccupied and I feared that perhaps romance was something that didn’t cross your mind, and-” She cut herself off when she realized she was blabbering on, the words dying suddenly in her throat. She feels like a fool around him, as if her brain is no longer connected to her mouth. She’s convinced something in him causes her entire body to short circuit.

“No one else seemed worthy of distraction.” He replies when the silence hangs in the air for a moment too long, and she’s thankful for the words, not just because of the way they make her heart swell and her limbs feel electric, but also because it gives her a moment to regain her footing instead of opening her mouth just to verbally tumble around the floor once more.

“I’m nothing special,” She replies humbly, her eyes trailing to the floor. It was not as if this was her first time being courted, but it was certainly the first time she felt inclined to accept. Still, she knew there was a game to be played here. Everything in the Capitol seemed to be a game of some sort.

“You can skip the modesties with me,” He begins, lithe fingers reaching forward and gripping her chin softly, forcing her eyes to his. She found herself getting lost in the oceanic pools once more. “I can see right through them. I much prefer honesty.” He finishes his thought with a finality that cuts her denial from her lips before she can even speak it.

“May I kiss you?” He asks before she can even right herself on this new playing ground, but after a moment, she nods, stricken wordless even further. He wastes no time in pressing his lips to hers, and she finds that he’s not nearly as gentle as she would have imagined. His lips are forceful and she’s jolted back slightly by the force. In response to this, his hands find her hips, fleshy and pliable, and he pulls her forward again, devouring her whole. There is no fighting for dominance, she needs no verbal cues to know it would be pointless. Despite this being her confession, she is clearly no longer the one in charge.

The room seems to be spinning for a moment as her brain struggles to catch up to the rushed intimacy, and when she finally regains her footing, her hands desperately reach out for his broad shoulders, digging into the red wool of his Academy jacket. He peels himself away from her to shrug it off of his shoulders, letting it pool on the kitchen floor beneath their feet. He stares at her face for a moment, stroking his thumb along her flushed bottom lip, and she parts them instinctively.

He falters for a moment before he shoves the digit into her mouth, stroking across her tongue. Her lips seal around the digit, her tongue moving to explore every centimeter of his salty skin. Coriolanus grunts at the sensation, his eyes flickering back and forth between her lips and her eyes, shifting slightly to accommodate the tightening in the front of his pants.

Emboldened by his response, she eagerly sucks at the pollex, letting her eyes fall until half-lidded, imitating acts she was sure they’d find themselves in relatively soon.

With more restraint than she’d previously given him credit for, he pulls his thumb from her lips and dives back down to encapture them once more, bending and molding her until she’s not sure where she ends and he begins. Her teeth clash against his once and he grunts at the unpleasant feeling, his hand moving to her jaw and keeping her steady as to ensure that he could take what he wanted without her petulant, inexperienced movements.

His roughness is unprecedented, so unlike the gentle hesitant touches from any of her prior romances. She finds it’s not unpleasant, though slightly surprising. The unfamiliarity of it doesn’t stop the heat that continues to pool between her thighs, especially when his pearly white canines sink into her bottom lip, drawing a cry from her throat before her brain has even finished fully processing the feeling.

The residual stinging was clue enough of a puncture in the sheer skin, only proven further when he pulls away and the carmine fluid has tinted his teeth. His pink tongue glides over them effortlessly, and her mouth falls agape slightly when his azure eyes flutter shut and he groans at the taste, his hips stuttering forward just enough to catch her attention.

It’s clear he’s growing impatient with the lack of true intimacy, especially when he wraps a hand in her hair, guiding her roughly to the tiled floor in front of him. She resists slightly as her bottom slips from the high counter, and as a result, she hits the ground rougher than she’d intended.

He seems to find it no priority to ensure she’s okay, instead spending the time eagerly pushing down the flowing kilt like fabric of his uniform, followed by the slacks beneath them. His eager cock twitched behind the cotton fabric of his briefs, and despite her discomfort on the way down to her resting place, she finds herself reaching out wantonly, her hand trailing over the thick outline in the fabric.

The man above her sucks in a choked breath at the sensation, and it encourages her to continue on. She crawls forward on the cold floors, her fingers hooking into the elastic waistband and helping the fabric bunch at his knees where the rest of his clothing resided. His cock sprung up, heavy and leaking, hitting his stomach and leaving a smear of precum on the blue undershirt of his uniform.

She reaches up, hand curling around the velvety length, solid and hard at its core but oh so soft and smooth as her hand glides along the skin. She pulls her hand back, spitting on it eagerly. Saliva runs down her chin slightly, but she finds it easy to ignore as she slathers the makeshift lube over his erection.

“Fuck, darling.” He hisses, and she finds herself wondering if the exclamation is at the sensation or at her eagerness. She decides she won’t deprive him of either, just in case. Her hand slides up and down his dripping cock, collecting what she can of the precum droplets pooling on top to help the slickness of her ministrations. When she finds there’s no resistance to her movements, she tightens her fist around him, speeding up the strokes around his velvety shaft. His hips stutter a few times in an attempt to find her rhythm before he’s fucking her hand, hunched over as his nails dig into the thick fabric of her jacket. Every jut of his hips pulls a soft grunt from his lips, his eyes falling closed as he enjoys the pleasure that she’s happy to give him.

When she’s sure he’s sufficiently hard, and his length is throbbing eagerly in her soft palm, she gently pulls her hand back. His hips thrust into the empty air once before he realizes she’s not got her hand curled around him anymore, and he whines, oh god, he whines, at the loss of contact. The noise sends heat directly between her legs and she unconsciously shifts in an attempt to lessen the sudden increase in pressure.

She eagerly sits up on her haunches, sticking her tongue out as far as she can as she moves forward, letting the heaviness of his cock rest on the pink muscle. His fingers curl in her hair and attempt to guide her forward, but she glances up at him with a look of warning, pressing gently into his hip bone to keep him from sliding any deeper. She was going at her pace, and he’d find a way to respect that.

She slowly dips her head further down his shaft, taking him in centimeter by painfully slow centimeter as his nails dig into her scalp punishingly. She finds his lack of patience almost comical in a way. How a man so poised and level headed in most circumstances can be brought to primal nature by the minutest amount of pleasure. A man is a man, after all.

It doesn’t take long for her to crave more from him, desperate to see him crumble at her hands. He’s so incredibly prepossessing, and she finds that this is better than anything her clearly uninventive mind could have conquered up. The way his blond curls cling to his forehead encourages her further, and she wraps her hand around the base of his dick to ensure she doesn’t get too eager and choke herself on his length. Her cheeks hollow when she begins to bob her head, spit quickly budding on the edges of her lips. Coriolanus groans above her, his grip growing tighter in her hair. Her eyes widen when his hips snap forward, her lips meeting her wrapped hand in less than a second. She gags suddenly, hints of sickness swirling in her stomach as tears prick her eyes. His cock twitches in her throat, and she notices the way the veins in his wrist bulge with how roughly he’s gripping onto her.

She’s just managing to gather her bearings when his patience seems to fade completely, and his hands move to the back of her head, shoving her hand away from his shaft before thrusting forward once more, her nose pressing into the course curls of his pubes. Her stomach heaves and she struggles to swallow down the much stronger surge of nausea. He wastes no time in pulling himself back out until his tip brushes against the inside of her lips before he’s back down her throat once more.

He leans over her, the tight V of his adonis belt pressed into her forehead as one of his hands rests on her shoulder to keep him upright. His groans fill the air around them, accompanied by the noise of her gagging around his cock with each thrust. Spittle drips down her chin, dirtying her uniform. She has no time to swallow any of it, instead focusing on staying alive as she’s used as a living sex toy.

“Such a pretty mouth, baby. You’re doing such a good job,” Coriolanus chokes out between licentious groans, and just that smallest amount of praise seems to make his rough treatment that much easier to handle. His dick leaps in her mouth, once, twice, and then he’s pulling out of her mouth, his hand wrapping around the base of his shaft so tightly that she watches as the color drains from his fingers. He leaks precum so heavily that it drips to her tiled floor, and a few moments later, when he seems to have effectively staved off his impending orgasm, he pushes her head down towards it.

She cocks an eyebrow, looking up at him in confusion. “Lick it up, doll. Don’t want any of it to go to waste.” He smirks, shoving her head down once again. Her face blossoms into a blush, humiliated by the thought of licking something off the floor like a pitiful dog, but she leans down, pink tongue dragging across the porcelain flooring. The thick liquid is salty and clings to her tongue, lingering behind no matter how many times she attempts to swallow it down.

His fingers grip her chin gently, a sharp contrast to the way his hips brutalized her mouth moments before, and tilts her face up. Her eyes meet his icy orbs, and his lips curl into a soft smile. “What a good girl. So obedient.” He hums, and her dripping cunt clenches around nothing.

“Let’s get you undressed, hm?” He supplicates, and she nods, swallowing heavily, the saliva soothing her sore throat as he helps her to her feet, guiding her until her back hits the closest wall. He guides her jacket off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor in the pile with his. His agile fingers easily undo the buttons of her shirt, and his head dips down, placing kisses on each expanse of newly exposed skin.

When the final button is undone, the fabric bunched up around her arms, he shoves it away eagerly. Her bra is unclasped with such ease that she has no doubts that he has some form of experience with them, and the realization causes a confusing heaviness in her chest. She does her best to shove it down, especially when his pale lips find the soft flesh of her breast, white teeth nipping hard enough that it draws a yelp from her. He quickly drags his tongue along the reddening flesh before his lips suction around it, sucking harshly. She writhes between him, pleasure blossoming in her lower stomach. Her pussy throbs needily, soaking the pink cotton underwear hidden beneath her skirt.

His nose drags against her sensitive skin as he makes his way down to her nipple, the bud already hardened by her arousal and the cool air. His tongue brushes against her and her back arches slightly, her mouth falling open in a soft whimper. She opens her mouth to implore him to continue, but before words can even fall from her lips, he’s picking her up, carrying her back over to the counter, settling her on it before his large hands drag her pants down her legs, growling under his breath slightly as they get stuck on her shoes, impatiently tugging until both her shoes and burgundy pants fly halfway across the room. He doesn’t even bother with her skirt, simply shoving it up until it bundles around her stomach.

She bashfully closes her legs, embarrassed of the slick arousal that’s soaked a nearly transparent oval into the crotch of her panties. Snow’s lips turn down at the corners, glancing up to meet her eyes before he’s pulling her thighs apart, his tongue running across his bottom lip as he takes in the sight. He runs a finger down the front of her underwear and she squirms, her canines biting into the soft skin of her bottom lip.

He shoves her panties to the side, exposing her glistening cunt to him. He groans deep in his throat, his head falling forward slightly. “Shit, darling, all this for me?” His voice is deeper than she’d ever recalled hearing it, and it only serves to get her more excited, legs spreading slightly wider to give him a better view. He whistles lowly, a seductive grin climbing his lips before his hands find her thighs, pushing them even further apart as he leans down towards her. His tongue meets her clit immediately and she jolts slightly, the sudden, intense pleasure too much to handle right off the bat. Her reaction only seems to fuel his enthusiasm, and he begins to lap at her bundle of nerves like a dehydrated dog. She undulates frantically, attempting to escape further up the counter but held in place by his strong hands. The sensation is overstimulating, overwhelming, far too much far too fast.

“C-Co-Coryo!” She cries, tears beginning to bud in her eyes as she writhes in desperation. Her hands shove at his head, trying to push him off. His gorgeous blue eyes glint as he stares up at her, taking in every movement, every reaction. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow down. If anything, his grip tightens on her legs, delving further into her sopping heat.

The coil in her stomach tightens in a way that’s so intense that it hurts, her legs shaking as he continues to eat her out like it’s the last meal he’ll ever have in his life. Her vision goes black when his lips wrap around her clit and his lips form a suction that’s so pleasurable that she sees stars, and she’s not entirely sure she hasn’t died on the spot. Her hips jerk uncontrollably, her protests devolving into nothing but incoherent babbling as she orgasms so violently that it genuinely hurts more than it brings her pleasure. She doesn’t even realize she’d been crying until she’s in a coherent mindset again and finds that her cheeks and neck are drenched in the evidence of just how overstimulating his mouth had been.

In the time it had taken her to come back to some semblance of reality, Coriolanus had already spread her juices over his dick, the angry red cockhead and shaft glistening in her arousal as his hand pumped over it a final few times.

“You ready, pretty girl? I know you’re gonna take my cock so well.” He purrs, his lips still glistening with her fluids. She jolts slightly when his tip rubs against her entrance, her pussy sore and overwhelmed from his onslaught. The hand not guiding his cock presses into her lower stomach, keeping her stationary as he presses into her, her cunt clenching around him so tightly that she’s not even sure he’ll be able to stuff himself inside her.

His head falls forward, chin to chest as a strangled noise leaves his lips, and she watches as his knees buckle for just a moment. “You didn’t warn me you were so fucking tight.” He grunts, his eyelids fluttering as he struggles to gain control of himself. His hips snap forward in one, swift movement, and her fingers find the edge of the counter, a scream ripped from her lips. His palm covers her mouth quickly, his lips finding the shell of her ear as he shushes her, stilling as deep inside her as he can.

“It’s okay, baby. Just gonna hurt for a second. It’s okay.” He comforts, or attempts to, and she finds herself brought to the brink of tears for the third time during their encounter. She struggles to control her breathing, her toes curled tightly in an attempt to distract from the pain.

His impatience blossoms again, and rather than waiting for any semblance of approval from her, he waits until he’s no longer at risk of blowing his load like a preteen boy before he pulls out to the very tip, thrusting himself back into her roughly. She cries out in discomfort, but it seems the two noises sound similar enough for him to take the noise as assent.

He ruts into her with such force that her breasts bounce with each thrust, slapping against her skin roughly. Each time his cock sinks into her wet cunt, he lets out a strangled grunt, ever vocal of the pleasure her body supplied him with. One of his hands travels down her leg, gripping onto her calf. He forces it up and back up into the air, the angle letting his girthy cock press even deeper into her. His nails dig halfmoon circles into the soft flesh, marking her up. Pleasure begins to wind in her stomach as the pain subsides, and she whines wantonly, her forearms shaky as they pressed into the granite counter tops, keeping her upper body raised.

It’s barely been three minutes but she can already feel his cock twitching inside of her as his thrusts lose their rhythm, falling into a directionless pounding of his hips into hers. His breath comes out in pants, his free hand grabbing at any part of her he can reach, squeezing and groping her needily.

“Gonna… fucking hell, dar-ling, gonna cum for you.” He rasped, and not a second later, his hips stuttered as his cock pulsed inside her. She could feel each twitch of his fill her up with rope after rope of hot cum, the warmth radiating from inside of her before beginning to pour out of her aching hole, pooling on the counter below her. He stays inside her for a moment, hips pressed into hers before he slowly withdraws his cock, shuddering as the head slides out of her cunt. His eyes immediately fall to the combination of their fluids beneath her, and he collects them on her fingers, trailing them back up her sopping pussy before shoving it back inside her. She can feel the kindlings of pleasure die in her stomach, forgotten and discarded.

He pulls his fingers away, wiping them on her thigh before pressing a chaste kiss to her sweaty forehead. He helps her down from the counter before beginning to collect his clothing, redressing in a way that settles an unwelcome feeling of rejection in her stomach. “Are you leaving?” She questions softly, and he turns to her, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

“I have a project due, doll. Surely you understand.” He replies in a tone that she can tell should have been reassuring but was decidedly not. “Of course.” She swallows roughly, giving a polite nod of her head as he grabs his bag from her kitchen table. She pulls her clothes on with the unsteadiness of a baby deer, watching him collect his things as if nothing had happened.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?” She asks, looking up at him pleadingly. He places a kiss on her cheek, running fingers through her messy hair. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He replies before he’s out the door and heading in the direction of the Corso.

The relief from impending death doesn’t feel as good as she’d imagined. Requited love feels like soreness between her legs and a heaviness in her chest. She chokes down the feelings, busying herself in cleaning up the kitchen. Her parents would be the cause of her untimely death if they found what she’d done.

She finds that despite the sun being out, she’s dreadfully tired. She vows to wake up early in the morning to finish her homework, and stalks up to her bedroom, burying herself in the plush sheets of her overly expensive bed. She doesn’t know when she starts crying, but she knows it doesn’t end until she’s exhausted herself asleep.

_________________ ✾✾✾ _________________

She’s startled awake gasping for air. It doesn’t matter how many times her mouth opens, she can’t suck in air. She flails frantically, falling off the side of her bed with a thud on the carpeted floor. She wrestles with the blankets, suddenly killer constrictors. Panic rises in her chest, and she coughs, swallows, heaves frenetically. She crawls, hands and knees to the in suite bathroom, hunched over the toilet.

She shoves her fingers into her mouth, desperately attempting to clear her airways. It triggers her gag reflex but nothing comes up. Her stomach heaves, tears streaming down her face. She can see the darkness of death begin to seep into the corners of her vision. She tries to scream but the sound dies in her throat with her breath.

She continues to shove her fingers down her throat, increasingly frantic as she feels herself growing weak at the lack of oxygen. She heaves again, and finally, she feels the object loosen. Her fingers brush against it the next time she shoves her fingers down, and finally, she gets it up, accompanied by such an excess of blood that she’s not sure how she’s still somewhat upright.

Lying in that puddle of blood is a full rose, stem and all. The thin stalk of the flower is littered in thorns, the petals covered in droplets of crimson liquid. She doesn’t understand. This should have been over. He’d loved her back.

Her hands move to her throat suddenly, the suffocating feeling returning. Her hands clench into fists, pounding on the granite flooring. She knows this one isn’t coming up.

She finds that more than anything, she’s tired. She curls up on the cold floor, fingers curling around the rose. Her cheek presses into the warm puddle of her own blood. The thorns on the rose draw more from her shaking hand. Coriolanus Snow was just like his roses - beautiful.

Beauty - a deceitful bait with a deadly hook.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow smut #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games

272 notes · View notes

lady-ashfade · 7 days

Text

Sorrow Flowers

Yan!Class 1A x Reader

╰･ﾟ✧☽ Hanahaki disease is hard in all cases. But when you have a group of people in love with you it becomes a bigger problem, since you must love another…

╰･ﾟ✧☽ warnings: short blurb, hanahaki disease, angst, yandere behavior, blood and kinda gory.

dark circles appear under your eyes rather quickly, and in training you seemed to be weaker then normal. at first they thought you were becoming sick with the flu or over working yourself. the class babied you all of the time and made sure to do what they thought was best.

and slowly you came down with a nasty cough. they were so worried and even took you to Recovery Girl to get better. she couldn’t find anything wrong with you- she didn’t know what to test and look for so you went undiagnosed.

clinging to your throat you fell in training and tried to breath and cough up whatever was coming up. your body was sweating and panicking from the pain and lack of air you had. Aizawa was the first one at your side with the others rushing as well.

“Come on, kid.” his hand slapped the back of your back to try and help you breathe. iida was already on his way to get recovery girl. your class mates look in horror, some of them already crying and screaming for you.

blood…

blood splatter onto the floor from your lips and something rolled along with it. you gasped for air as the some blood dripped from down your chin. tears rolled down your eyes. everyone looked down to the thing on the ground, something was blocking your pipes. and what they saw was nothing they thought they had to worry about. a black flower covered in blood, some clots too.

you had hanahaki disease.

the disease for unrequited loved. you loved someone else that wasn’t them. since every one of them was obsessed over you, worship the ground you walked on, wanted nothing more then to have you. that means you didn’t love any of them…and someone undeserving.

the gazes of everyone in the room darkened to black and red. someone had made you this way. you could have died and if it isn’t fixed they could lose you anyway. and that person need to pay. your teacher took you into his arms and carried you to the infirmary to get you some rest and medicine to help, while the others stayed behind to figure everything out.

“this is why I told you idiots to keep a closer eye on them, this is all your faults.” katsuki yelled while pushing pasted them to go and found anyone he could. honestly, after he found the person responsible he might take care of his class mates too because they are equally responsible.

“if you weren’t such a asshole they might have stayed with us! It’s not our fault,” Mina shouted and huffed out.

“whatever it takes we’ll make them better. but for now,” Izuku mumbled with his quirk activated on his own and his body shocks green.

“we need to take care of the disgrace of a person responsible.”

╰･ﾟ✧☽ Haven’t written something finished in a long time, so this probably sucks. I have been in a big writes block.

#yandere class 1 a #yandere imagines #yandere class 1 a x reader #yandere class 1a #yandere class 1a scenarios #yandere class 1a x reader #yandere tenya iida #yandere Mina ashido #yandere izuku midoriya #yandere deku #yandere katsuki bakugou #yandere Bakugo #yandere shota Aizawa #yandere izuku midoriya x reader #yandere x reader #short blurb #tw yandere

146 notes · View notes

justimajin · 8 months

Text

The Language of Flowers

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Angst

↳ 9.5k / Hanahaki AU

⇨ Hanahaki (pre-existing concept): a fictional disease in which an individual will cough up flowers after experiencing unrequited love.

Warnings: heavy angst, discussions of illness/surgery, implied smut (on the explicit end)

Love is funny.

It blossoms unexpectedly, spontaneously conjuring up within seconds. A spur of the moment, which draws in budding affection. Love at first sight, that flourishes into sparks of tender electricity. Or simply an unexpected encounter, getting spun into something more meaningful.

It develops, it grows. It becomes so much more as the handles of time spiral, adoration and devotion thrown into the mix and creating everlasting bliss.

Until of course, it becomes long term, its longevity and commitment spanning an entire lifetime.

You glance around, pupils revolving around the blooming garden. There are long tables lined into rows, draped with lilac silk material and decorated with bright yellow flowers. Amongst them, an array of individuals are seated, chattering with one another.

You find her closer to the fencing, where fairy lights are looped and a giant white board stands, the word ‘Engaged’ written in bold cursive purple.

“Aera.” She turns around, dressed in a short white lace dress with a small tiara resting on her black hair, making her appear like a princess. Her eyes are wide, having been in mid-conversation before she heard your voice call out to her.

Her lips tug into a huge smile upon seeing your tender look, moving forward to envelop you into a hug. “Y/N!”

You hug her back, “Thank you so much for coming. It wouldn’t have been possible without you.”

“Don’t say that.” You sheepishly chuckle, but she presses on.

“Oh, come on, you’re the one that introduced me to him.”

You dismiss her, “I just introduced you two, you were the one to take it a step further.”

Taking a step back, you gesture to the entire display of the white board and a bubbly laugh emerges from her.

“Let me at least give you some credit.”

“Fine, maybe I helped a little.” You retort and she grins at your acceptance.

A low voice cuts through your conversation.

“I moved the balloons like you wanted, the decorator said–”

A young man appearing to be within his twenties emerges, donning a white dress shirt with a black tie and pants. His dark hair is styled and parted back, brows furrowed and doe eyes swirling with focus.

It doesn’t take you a second later to whisper his name.

“Jungkook?”

He halts his steps, frozen by the sound of his name. Head snapping up, recognition flows through his orbs.

Within a heartbeat, he shutters out. “Y-Y/N?”

Aera darts her eyes between both of you, taken aback with the familiarity with a frown.

“Do the two of you know each other?”

“Ah– yes,” You quickly clarify, “We work together.”

“Yeah, we do.” He replies, scratching the back of his neck. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here…”

“Well, I am friends with the bride.” You chuckle.

Aera pitches in, placing a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. “And she introduced me to Sunoo, Kookie!”

He stiffens. “I see…”

“How do the two of you know each other?” You ponder, surprised by their proximity. If anything, you at least knew that Jungkook was greatly distant at work, never really going out of his way to speak to anyone.

Aera warmly smiles, looping her arm around Jungkook’s, “Let me reintroduce you to the Jeon Jungkook,” She gazes at him with tender eyes, “My childhood friend and the person dearest to my heart…“

Pausing, she adds in, “–after Sunoo, of course.”

You nod understandably, but Jungkook lets out a low cough.

“I-I should go,” He brings up, “See if the decorator needs any more help.”

You watch as he loops out of her arm, swiftly turning around without another word.

A pout surfaces on Aera’s lips, like she wanted him to stay longer with you.

But then she turns and catches your intrigued gaze, orbs brightening up in an instant. She dips into conversation once more as if he never left, occupied with showcasing the giant ring that now sits on her third finger.

Yet if you had been paying enough attention, you would have noticed the flicker of dread in Jungkook’s eyes.

***

As you attempt to catch up with Aera, it’s not long before she’s being whisked away by her husband-to-be, who you warmly greet with a smile.

Being left alone, you decide to head over to one of the side tables, setting down the gift you had bought for them before filtering through all the guests to find your seat.

Locating an empty one on the same table Aera and Sunoo would be at, you sit down and take a napkin, carefully placing it down onto your lap.

From the corner of your eye, you catch sight of Jungkook. He glances around, doe eyes frantic and lips pursed. He awkwardly lingers for a moment – like he was debating on being there, unsure of where to look or where to go.

It’s surprising to you, considering only moments ago he was effortlessly navigating himself to the decorator’s instructions.

You hesitate for a moment, knowing the two of you aren’t particularly close. However, as his confusion spins by the minute, you ultimately decide it wouldn’t be so bad and give in.

“Jungkook!” You call out, watching his train of vision fall onto you. Taking out a chair next to you, your hand waves over with a warm smile.

Jungkook glances around one more time, before walking over with his head ducked down.

Instead of taking the one beside you, he takes the one on the opposite side – the one that is furthest away from Aera.

You raise a brow, wondering why he didn’t want to sit closer to the bride and of course, his childhood friend, but you freeze when your orbs land on his appearance.

His eyes are glossed over, tinged with red. They almost seem hollow, dark circles collecting underneath them and his shoulders are caved in.

“Are–…” You quickly glance around, words dropping into a whisper before leaning in, “Are you okay?”

Jungkook’s pupils snap back into life and he furiously nods, shifting uncomfortably away from you.

“Y-Yeah, I’m okay.” He sniffles, voice coming out hoarse. His field of vision lands on the decorations upon the table, features straining with dismay, “I’m just allergic to the flowers.”

Your own eyes follow his line of sight, falling onto the beautiful, bright yellow petals. In fact, they’re littered everywhere – from the long tables lined up, to the blooming garden, to even attached to the white board that sits in the front.

“Tulips,” You remark, “Aera’s–”

“Favorite flower.” He mumbles, pupils focused down on his fidgeting hands and not bothering to take a glance at them.

An involuntary harsh cough escapes his throat.

You lean over, grabbing a jug full of water and a glass, filling it up. Tapping him on the shoulder, he looks up, fatigue radiating deep within his irises before they morph into surprise.

He takes the glass hesitantly, muttering a small thank you before you turn your attention back to the front, watching all the guests take their places as the food gets served.

Save for the few occasional glances stemming from concern, you and Jungkook don’t say another word to each other for the rest of the duration.

***

The evening spins away – dinner is all served and more guests pool in. You occasionally smile, greeting new people and munching down on the contents placed in front of you.

Amongst all this, Aera is attached to Sunoo, a tender smile on her features as they deeply gaze into each other’s eyes and beam with so much sweet affection.

You grin when she calls for you to take a picture with the two to them, instantly leaving your table and trudging over. Looping your arm with Aera and standing opposite to Sunoo, all three of you smile as the photographer’s flash goes off.

“You two look really good together.” You comment and Aera giggles, eyes crinkling in the direction of her to-be-husband.

She leans closer to him, brushing his lips against hers for a kiss. Sunoo follows suit, clasping onto her hands.

They radiate the to-be-wed glow, encased in their own bubble of infectious love and happiness. It’s joyous for anyone to watch, to see two people be so utterly and completely in love with each other.

At least, that’s what you think.

As you turn to greet another one of Aera’s friends, you catch a flash of movement from the corner of your eyes.

You blink, but then there’s a tap against your shoulder.

“Y/N,” Aera asks, her head surveying around, “Do you know where Jungkook is?”

You swivel, mimicking her puzzlement. “I-I’m not sure…”

“That’s too bad, I wanted to take a picture with him.” Aera remarks and a frown lines your lips. You had just seen Jungkook sitting by the table by himself moments ago, but now he’s up and disappeared, just when the photographer had started taking photos.

You sigh, not understanding his train of thought.

Turning to Aera, you give her a quick reassured smile. “Focus on Sunoo, I’ll go find him for you.”

She breaks into a huge relieved grin and nods, returning to her husband’s side.

Spinning around, you walk in the opposite direction.

Your head darts back and forth.

You had entered into the side building, the one adjacent to the garden where the engagement party was being held. It’s empty save for the occasional workers or bystanders you pass, either trying to help set up or busy conversing with one another. However, you don’t find the head of dark hair and pair of doe eyes you’re trying to locate, simply left mulling if he had truly decided to leave.

That is, until there’s a black tie resting near the soles of your feet.

You pick it up in suspicion, instantly recognizing it as the same one Jungkook had donned when you had met him prior in the evening.

Peering around while gripping the tie, you wonder why it was so clumsily thrown onto the ground, as if he didn’t care about where it ended up–

The sound of retching startles you.

You glance around, wondering if you had imagined it. But then you hear it – a low choked sob, and your feet are gyrating, ears keenly picking up on the sound.

Your feet falter for a moment, having stopped right in front of the men’s bathroom.

Biting down your bottom lip, you cautiously push against the door, darting your pupils around.

It's completely empty, save for one stall in the far corner.

Your heels click against the ground, turning to face it. Noticing it slightly open, you raise your hand, preparing to knock and ask him if he was okay, if he has perhaps consumed too much alcohol than expected, or if he needed anything – infinite questions ready to tumble out of your lips.

But that’s when you feel a slight flutter against your foot.

Peering down curiously, you breath hitches and you nearly stumble back.

For there’s a fragrant and beautiful, bright yellow petal there.

Hand quivering, you lightly push against the door.

It opens, and your mouth falls agape at the sight.

Jungkook is on his knees, hunched over the toilet, completely surrounded by yellow flowers. His eyes are squeezed shut, shudders running through his body and tears pooling into his eyes. Despite being very tall, his frame looks small and cramped, sweat clinging to his temples.

You thought it was all fake, a disease so rare that it could be considered a myth. But the flowers spilling out from his coughing lips is enough to reel you back into reality, cementing that it was all true – all the puzzling pieces of information stemming from the rumors, all the hushed whispers of unrequited love.

You were wrong, so utterly wrong.

Your hands cover your mouth, voice only managing to come out in a shakingly whisper.

“O-Oh my god….”

Jungkook heaves as the last flower slips out, finally noticing your presence as his eyes snap back.

Your widened ones make contact with his half-lidded orbs, which expand into complete horror.

***

You don’t remember how long it took – how long you merely stood there, glancing at his horror stricken irises with a mix of terror and confusion in your own. You had watched as his eyes diverted away, a deep flush coating his skin as he had leaned back, gripping the edge of the wall for dear support.

“Tulips.” You had murmured, “Aera’s–”

“Favorite flower.” He croaks, a harsh rasp to his voice. His quivering hands reach out, attempting to scoop up the remaining flowers on the ground.

His pupils widened when your shaking ones reached out as well, gaze concentrated as you discard them into the toilet can. But he continues, ensuring each and every single petal had been collected before rising to his feet, wobbling a bit as he turns to flush the contents away for good.

You had quietly trailed out of the bathroom, walking behind his light footsteps.

A moment of silence overtakes you as you reach the opposite side of the building, far from where there are guests celebrating the new engagement. The fresh breeze weaves through your hair, nipping at your skin and offering a change of atmosphere.

Jungkook seems to like it as well, a content sigh leaving him as opposed to the profuse spilling of flowers inside a cramped stall he was experiencing just moments ago.

A thousand questions are ready to burst out from you, but amongst them is one that already has an answer.

“I-Is it…” You warily gaze at him, “...Aera?”

Jungkook visibly gulps, fear echoing deep in his doe irises. You’re startled when he snatches onto your wrist, grip tightening as his eyes desperately scan your expression.

“Please…” He inhales, “Please don’t tell her...”

You slowly nod, gaze still trained on him as his shoulders slump down, relief flooding his body.

Your voice drops into a whisper, “H-How long has this been going on…?”

Jungkook’s lip thin out, and his gaze is on the ground.

Sucking in a breath, he reveals the answer that has a harsh gasp escaping you.

“A year.”

“A year?!” You sharply repeat, “Jungkook, how are you still alive?”

Your coworker had been quietly suffering the effects for a whole entire year, delving within his own misery and attempting to live a normal life as the disease ate away at him.

He shakes his head, like he didn’t want your thoughts invading his mind, “Why haven’t you just gotten the surgery?”

“I-I can’t…” He whispers, brows furrowing.

“Why not?” You press forward, concern filling you to the brim, “The rumors say that hanahaki consumes the individual’s lungs within a year, leading their entire system to shut down–”

“Because I can’t, Y/N.” His words are louder and firmer, but there’s guilt swimming in his orbs. “I…I don’t want to forget her.”

Your lips pursue, knowing what the rumors had to say about the surgery. That along with all the flowers, each and every memory is taken, ripped out of the patient’s mind until they have no more recollection of the feelings, the love they had once felt for their person.

Which means Jungkook’s only other alternative would be for Aera to reciprocate his feelings.

Your stomach churns, guilt radiating out from you.

“She can’t love you back…” You whisper and Jungkook’s eyes snap up, brimming with despair.

“She’s engaged now, and I…I can't take it all away from her,” He hurriedly explains, voice shrinking down into an anguished whisper, “Not when I love her so much...”

“But…are you just going to let yourself die?”

He has no other option. The fonder his heart grows, so do the petals, spreading out within his airway until his breathing is completely constricted. Without the removal surgery or reciprocated feelings, he’s caged – left to fight the disease on his own until he ultimately succumbs to it, drawing out his last breath in the name of the same love.

Jungkook is silent, your words lingering within the empty space between you.

He continues to remain silent, but then his features twist and something snaps.

His eyes are glossed over, shoulders hunched as he chokes out a sob.

You’re startled, but you realize it then and there.

He knows he’s resigned to his fate and at this point, all he can do is receive the illness that’s marred his pathway with flowers.

You’re not very close to Jungkook, but it doesn’t hold you back from outstretching your arms, hands wrapping around his torso as the tears stream down his eyes, form violently trembling.

Aera’s eyes had sparked up when you returned with Jungkook following suit. You watch with dismay as he places a hand on her shoulder, a weak smile on his lips. Jungkook’s condition is obvious, there’s dark circles underneath his eyes, his skin pale and fatigue running deep in his shoulders. But he continues to pose for the photo, not ignoring Aera’s plea to take more with her husband.

Sunoo stands on the other side of them, sharing Aera’s tender smile when she glances at him. Jungkook’s lip twitches, smile slightly faltering.

As the evening draws to an end, your gaze is attached to Jungkook’s every movement, watching him turn on his heels and begin to take the various decorations down. All as Aera and Sunoo have their arms wrapped around each other, fondly staring down at the rings on their hands.

A bitter taste lingers on your lips.

It stays for a while – even as you’re knocking on Jungkook’s door the next day.

To be honest, you’re not sure what you're trying to accomplish. Jungkook and you were merely coworkers, bypassing each other occasionally or conversing through cubicles when work called for it.

But there’s a piece of you deep inside that can't help but feel awful. Awful that in a way you were the one to resign him to the fate of his disease with your own actions, pointing out to Aera that there was a guy you knew back in your college days together that would be her type, even helping out to get his number for her.

Conversely, even though you weren't aware of Jungkook’s existence in her life, the image of him hunched over, trembling as the flowers endlessly poured around and circled his sobbing form, is hauntingly ingrained inside your mind, a deep chill running through your spine anytime the memory plays.

The door swings open, revealing a started Jungkook.

Knowing what you know now, makes it hard to look at him. He still looks exhausted, the deep circles underneath his eyes ever most present and his skin drained of life. You suspect he’s even lost weight from the last handful of times you’ve seen him at work, the disease taking its sweet time to slowly break him down, bit by bit, till his lungs are full and bursting with flowers.

“W-What are you doing here?”

You take in a deep breath, “You’re off from work, right? To be here for the wedding.”

Aera’s wedding is closer to the end of the month, set seven days after the engagement.

Seven days left until hanahaki runs its full course of a year, the victim falling prey to its effects and their lungs being forever constricted.

He slowly nods, “I thought we could go out, do something aside from wedding preparations.”

Jungkook goes silent and you gnaw on your bottom lip. You knew that the wedding plans were still going on, that Aera would need assistance from the two of you, but you know he’s spending all this time helping the very person he loves, without ever getting to be with her.

You wonder if he’ll protest, if he’ll remark that she needs him and that he needs her, that there’s no way he can halt the planning process for his own needs.

But Jungkook heavily exhales, and you wonder if he can see the pity in your eyes.

“Okay.” He simply utters, much to your surprise. He widens the door, letting you in before swiveling, attempting to look for his jacket.

You stand rather awkwardly by the front of his apartment, pleasantly surprised to find the black and white layout of the place, with everything appearing meticulously organized. It’s almost too clean, not a speck of dirt in sight.

However, the layout seems too simplistic, the black and white not contrasting well with the sunlight that tries to pour in, appearing more bleak and empty for your own liking.

It feels lonely.

You press your lips together, a grimace running through you. How long has he been quietly suffering by himself, keeping distance from others? The Jungkook you know wouldn’t even attend events or go out for drinks with everyone else post-work, but now he’s submerged within guests everyday and next to the person he loves, suppressing flowers from spewing out.

Jungkook emerges soon, throwing on a black jacket. Stepping outside with you, he lets out a sharp cough, rubbing his throat with a wince.

“Where to?” He ponders, looking at you with his big doe eyes.

You shrug, “Coffee?”

He nods, and you lead him to the local coffee shop you’ve frequented a couple of times after work, one that’s more closed in and has cozy booths. It isn't popular by any means, only a few individuals occupying the seats, but it’s something you notice Jungkook relishes in from the corner of your eyes, form visibly easing from the low amount of prying looks.

You order your drinks, asking Jungkook what he wanted and he simply murmurs that anything was okay. Within minutes, two lattes are handed to you and you join him by the booth he’s seated at, a deep frown marring your lips.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, and you wince, pushing the drink closer to him.

“Sorry…I didn’t realize this cafe also did coffee art.”

Jungkook's eyes are wide as the drink comes in front of him, a foamy little white heart greeting his line of vision.

The corner of his mouth curls up.

“It’s okay.” He remarks, “I think it’s rather cute.”

You look at him in surprise, but he’s already bringing the drink up to his lips, cautiously taking a sip from the heated mixture.

The words blurt out before you can stop them.

“I’m really sorry.”

He halts, placing the drink down. “Y/N, I said it was okay–”

“No, not that.” You harshly swallow, “I-I’m sorry…about Aera…”

He stares at you perplexed and you explain, “I was the one to bring her and Sunoo together. I knew both of them and thought they would work well as a couple.”

Your eyes flutter shut, biting down on your lip, “If only I had known about your relationship with her, I could have–”

“Y/N.” He stops your train of thought, hand brushing against yours. You immediately stare down at it, and he notices, sheepishly removing it in an instant as his complexion dusts pink.

He clears his throat, “Don’t apologize. Me and Aera…we were never meant to be, even if you stepped in.”

You stare at him, “We were friends for years…and even as I came to realize my feelings recently, Aera never once felt the same for me, no matter what I did.” He chuckles bitterly, “I was always Jungkook, her childhood friend, and nothing more.”

Anguish spreads over his features and your heart sinks. You can imagine a younger Jungkook, gaze filled with adoration and affection for the girl, desperately seeking for something, anything to be similarly reflected in her own eyes.

Remorse flickers over you, “But I can imagine Sunoo’s sudden appearance wasn’t all that great for you...”

Jungkook’s gaze falls down, a soft yet wistful smile on his lips. “It confirmed a lot for me, mainly that this disease was going to turn out to be more permanent than I had initially assumed.”

You bite back your words, wanting to tell him that it isn’t just permanent, that the disease would reside with him until he finally succumbs to it.

But you can’t bring yourself to, not when there’s so much hurt swirling in his eyes, the disease already physically manifesting itself against his own wishes.

At his silence, you sit up straighter, desperate to change the topic of conversation you had to spring up.

“What do you do outside of work?” You question, “Do you have any hobbies or anything?”

Anything you do to cope? – you can only silently wonder.

Your questions catches him off guard. “Not really…” He deeply ponders, “At the most, I’ve been just working…and of course, helping Aera when I had time off.”

You nod, features twisting. But then his eyes light up.

“Sometimes I like to game.”

“Game?” You blink and he slowly nods, sipping down on his latte. “I could have never taken you for a gamer.”

Something you wouldn’t have expected from the quiet man who would bump shoulders with you at work.

“It’s fun, I like playing games online.” He states, “It helps not having to worry about…”

His face sours as he gestures to himself and you quickly nod, not wanting him the chance to fill in the blanks.

“Maybe you could show me sometime.” You suggest, and he looks at you surprised. To be fair, you don’t know the first thing about online gaming, but watching Jungkook’s expression change, having some spark of joy, is too much for you to miss out on.

A soft smile lines his lips. “Sure.”

You mimic his smile, bringing the remains of the latte to your lips.

Aera is to be married soon, Jungkook knows that.

As such, he’s aware that moments with her are consistent, that she gazes into his eyes with a wide smile regularly, making his heart skip far too many beats.

But what he is pleasantly unaware of is just how involved you are, unabashedly seeking him out when you need assistance with picking up favors for the wedding.

“There should be at least a hundred candles wrapped with thank you notes,” You mumble, brows furrowed together as you read the text off your phone. The sun is bright and shining down, a light breeze lingering in the air that truthfully makes his chest feel lighter.

You glance up, confused eyes connecting with his wide ones. “I can’t open them to check, right?”

He shakes his head, “I don’t think so.”

“But then how do I know they made them properly?” You gesture towards the box resting before his feet in exasperation.

Letting out a huff, you shake your head. “I swear, this whole wedding business is so much more complicated than it really needs to be.”

A light chuckle resonates through the air and you stare at Jungkook in astonishment, watching at how the corners of his eyes crinkle.

“Believe me, I know.” He chides, leaning down to pick up the box. “I’ve been helping to plan this wedding for months.”

“For months?” You question in puzzlement, reaching out to help him balance it. However, he pushes your hands away, gesturing for you to let him carry it.

You frown, but oblige when he starts to walk. “That must have been so stressful. I’ve been only helping out for the last couple of weeks and it’s already making me want to rip my hair out.”

The corners of his lips tugs up and you continue, the words escaping you before you can stop. “Why would you go to such lengths?”

You freeze in an instant, already knowing the reason as to why.

“–Sorry,” You quickly retract, “I-I didn’t mean it like that…”

Jungkook shakes his head, almost feeling something akin to amusement.

His condition is supposed to be a secret, a taboo of a disease and something he’s never uttered a single word to another soul. He supposes that you’re different, that you weren’t someone he told out of his own volition, but rather someone that stumbled upon it.

Which gives him no reason to hide from you. That, and the fact that you’re so mindful about his potential reactions.

“Don’t worry about it.” He simply says, but picks up on the curiosity swirling within your orbs.

“If I can ask…how difficult has it been? Planning all this and dealing with…”

You wave your finger into the air, letting the sentence complete itself and it makes him want to smile.

“It’s kind of hard to explain…” He murmurs, falling deep into thought, “I know Aera doesn’t love me, but I still want to see her happy, you know?”

A low chuckle leaves him, gaze downcasting. “I guess that makes me sound really stupid.”

“No, not at all.” You justify, “You’re right, it’s hard to explain and even harder for someone like me to understand, but you’ve known Aera for so long, and I can imagine that you care a lot about her…”

– and that your love runs deeper than you probably would have imagined – you silently think.

He hums, glancing around as you cross the street together, your eyes focusing onto his backside.

After a moment of contemplation, you speak up.

“You know, I really hope I’m not causing you any trouble.” You explain, “I know talking about it can be–”

“It’s okay.” He replies, “I don’t mind, you’re…really easy to talk to.

You’re surprised by the soft smile he holds while glancing in your direction, but it’s one that you don’t hesitate to return.

A bright yellow flower lands right in front of your face.

You and Jungkook both jolt, the elderly woman in front of you holding a wide grin. It’s only then you realize that you’re near a boutique, selling flowers to those passing by.

“These beautiful tulips are fresh,” She states, attempting to play matchmaker as both you and Jungkook flush, “It’s said they represent unconditional love.”

You blink, the scent of the flowers being shoved right into your faces. Jungkook stills, holding in his breath as his form slightly trembles.

You clear your throat immediately, pushing them away.

“We’re okay.” You take a step back, “I’m allergic to flowers.”

She grimaces, realization donning upon her that neither of you meant business. You don’t think twice, grabbing Jungkook's wrist and whisking him away from the deeply fragrant area.

It’s only when you walk a good handful of steps away that Jungkook tugs on you, a sheepish look on his features that has your confused eyes widening.

You let go of him, “Sorry.”

He softly shakes his head. “It’s okay.”

His head turns, gaze concentrated on the store from a distance.

The next question leaving his lips has you taken aback, “What’s your favorite flower, Y/N?”

You deeply mull over it, drawing a blank. “I-I can’t say I have one….”

He ponders over it and your eyes flicker over to him, “What about you?”

“Ah–” He lightly laughs, scratching the back of his neck. Your eyes widen when he places the box down and takes hold of his sleeve, rolling it back a few inches.

An array of images greet you immediately, but among them is a giant orangish-red flower carved into his forearm.

“It’s my birth flower.” He informs.

You stare at it in pure awe and wonder, the ink swirling his skin beautifully.

Your voice comes out in a whisper, “What is it called?”

“The tiger flower.”

You hum, still looking at it in fascination. “Wow…it’s amazing.”

Jungkook silently watches, oddly feeling exposed for suddenly revealing an important piece of himself to you. But as he notices your irises brightening and lips curving up, he can’t help but warmly smile, his chest swelling with pride underneath your observations.

Ending up at Jungkook’s apartment becomes a staple for you.

You don’t know how or when, but through figuring out the delivery for the cake to ensuring you had enough tables for the RSVP'd guests, your messages to Jungkook would occasionally stray over to pondering over how he was doing. His responses always ended in simple reassurances, much to your own dismay, but then he would stray too, bringing up that if you ever felt like coming over again, you could.

At first, you didn’t want to be rude by declining, but then it became to the point where Jungkook expects you, swinging open to his door non-chantlently.

“Did you eat yet?”

Entering inside, you shake your head and he turns, heading into his kitchen. You glance around, ultimately deciding to sit on his couch.

There’s a table right next to it, a handful of picture frames that have your heart twisting.

They stand out in the midst of his bleak apartment, having an odd touch of hearth to them. There’s different age ranges – roughly around ages nine, twelve, fifteen – all of Aera and Jungkook together. There’s ones of them as small children, bright eyed with huge smiles, to ones where they’re a bit older, smiles turning warm and eyes tender. You muse at how adorable Jungkook looked when he was younger, a light to his crinkled eyes that you don’t really see much anymore.

His footsteps pad into the room, two bowls of instant ramen in his hands. You swivel around and his eyes catch the movement, but if anything he’s learned, it’s that you’re naturally very curious, surprise not even crossing him.

“We can go to my room,” He gestures to the doorway across the hall, “I already have my computer set up.”

You frown, rising from your seat and following behind him. The room is dark, all the lights turned off save for some sunlight peeking through his black drapes, and you’re astonished to find his room just as organized as the rest of his apartment.

Off to the side, there’s a bright lit screen alongside a keyboard that glows different colors.

“Woah.” You mutter and Jungkook hands you your instant ramen, before sitting on the large gaming chair and pulling a seat up for you.

You slurp on your noodles as the game loads. Once it does, his hand revolves around the settings for a moment before he dives into action, his fingertips tapping at an incredible speed across the keyboard and mouse furiously clicking. He seems completely zoned into the game, almost like he had forgotten where he was for a moment.

Nonetheless, you watch with wide eyes as he effortlessly wins the first round, hands coming around to search for his own ramen. He continues to keep playing, pupils never once leaving the monitor and you’re fascinated with how well he’s able to multitask.

His eyes connect with yours, a grin surfacing on his lips. “Want to try?”

Unease fills you, “I don’t know, I’m not the greatest with games–”

“You’ll be fine.” He insists and you nervously nod, giving into his wishes. He gently guides your hand over the mouse, watching you attempting to shoot things with terrible coordination.

It’s when you accidentally shoot someone that was trying to heal you that Jungkook bursts into laughter, a beautiful melodious tone that echoes off the walls.

“I told you I’m terrible!” You protest with a pout, and his laughter still bubbles as he moves behind you.

“Here, let me show you.” His hand laces over yours, effortlessly navigating your character.

You smile at the assistance, watching him cross all the hurdles and play infinitely better in comparison.

You turn to remark about it, but the words die in your throat.

His face is inches away from you, something he notices right away too. Neither of you move, the sounds coming from the game lingering in the background.

Jungkook shifts and you instantly move, your hand hitting your container of noodles.

It spills onto the ground and you immediately get up, clearing your throat.

“I-I’ll go get something to clean it up.” Jungkook simply nods, watching your backside disappear.

You head straight into his kitchen, pressing a hand against your racing heart. Deeply inhaling and exhaling, you glance around for a cloth, locating it on the edge of the counter immediately and turning back.

The doorbell rings.

You blink, hearing the loud sounds of the game coming from Jungkook’s room and wondering if you had imagined it. But then it rings again and you scramble forward, grasping onto the knob.

The sight before you shock you to your core.

Aera stands in front of you, arms crossed and her orbs tinged with cracks of red. They widen at the appearance of you, the shock scattering over her features reflecting your own.

“Y/N?”

“Aera?” You blurt out, wondering what she was doing here.

Her grand wedding is supposed to be in three days, and here she was.

Jungkook’s voice cuts through, “Y/N? Is everything oka–”

You hear his footsteps pad through the apartment before his breath hitches. Aera steps right in at the sight of him, walking straight past you and throwing her arms around his torso.

She sobs loudly and Jungkook’s pupils quiver, making direct eye contact with your confused ones, before awkwardly wrapping his arms around her.

There’s a painful tinge in the center of your chest, but you ignore it.

“S-Sunoo–” Aera sputters out, clutching onto Jungkook tighter. “S-Sunoo and I….we had a fight!”

Jungkook can barely muster out any words, harshly swallowing. Your eyes widen at the reaction, and it’s not long before a cough leaves his lips.

You step forward, placing your hand on her back. “Aera, how about we take this outside?”

Her head tilts, like she had just noticed you’re also in the room.

At her silence, you slowly peel her hands off of Jungkook, who quickly scurries away into the confines of his room.

Aera’s taken aback with response, but nonetheless follows you like a lost puppy.

The moment you’re outside the apartment, she spills. “We ended up fighting, Y/N! Can you imagine?!”

She sobs more, eyes connecting with the door behind you.

“Why won’t Jungkook come out?”

“He’s…not feeling the best.” You wince, unable to come up with a better answer. “You know, you should check in on him every now and then.”

Images of the splattered flowers echo through your mind.

“What’s there to check?” She chuckles, sniffling and wiping her tears, “Jungkook’s always fine.”

Your chest tightens, something unfamiliar brewing.

“No one’s ever always fine.” You grit.

Even if his symptoms weren’t so painfully obvious, there was no way to simply dismiss it all as something mere like work fatigue.

Aera eyes you, baffled by your tone, “Since when have the two of you gotten close?”

You open your mouth a couple of times – unable to muster the exact words for an answer. However, you relent, shaking it away and opting to ask her about Sunoo instead, to which she gladly focuses on.

***

You spend a considerable amount of time coaxing Aera that Sunoo still loved her and that being stressed about wedding planning was completely normal.

She cries continuously and you pat her back, sprouting as much reassurance as you can all while bypassing any of her further inquiries about Jungkook. It seems to help, because soon she’s nodding in agreement as the tears within her eyes begin to dry.

She departs and you manage to head back into the apartment, exhausted beyond belief.

But Jungkook lingers in your mind.

You bolt into his room, heading directly into the connecting bathroom. The door whips open, and your heart clenches at the sight before you.

There’s bright yellow tulips. Everywhere. And Jungkook is in the middle of them, form slouched against the wall with his eyes squeezed shut and sweat sticking to his temples.

You immediately crouch down, placing his weak arm around your neck and helping him to his feet. When he sways, you let him lean his weight against you.

Sitting him down onto his bed, you withdraw into the kitchen to fetch him a glass of water. Reentering the bedroom, his gaze is downcasted and you silently hand him the drink, watching his fingertips curl around the cup.

You then walk back into the bathroom, taking every piece of petal that’s been scattered and throwing it into the toilet can. You flush it down the drain as Jungkook sips on the water, quietly watching you from afar.

You sit down next to him with a deep sigh, silence overtaking the dark room.

A shuddering breath leaves him.

“I started to forget…” He croaks, grasping your attention immediately, “I actually managed to forget about everything for once. The engagement, the wedding, her…”

You remorsefully watch as his eyes flutter shut, noticing the single tear that rolls down his cheek. It propels you to shift forward, wrapping your arms around him comfortingly.

He leans into your touch, head resting on your shoulder and his arm curling around your waist.

There’s a thought that lingers in the back of your mind, seemingly growing louder and louder with every passing minute.

“You know…” He lets out a low hum and you continue, willing all your courage together. “I ended up thinking about a third alternative in curing you.”

Within a heartbeat, he mumbles – “What was it?”

Sucking in a sharp inhale, you let it out.

“For you to fall in love…with someone else.”

His breath hitches, form stiffening underneath your fingertips. You part from him and he slowly raises his head, staring at you impassively.

You fidget underneath his gaze, unable to read his thoughts.

After what feels like an eternity, you slowly pull yourself away from him. It was wrong of you to bring it up and you want to curse yourself for thinking otherwise.

Shuffling your feet, you stand up.

Jungkook’s hand clasps onto yours, tugging you towards him in an instant. Your eyes morph with surprise, but then his lips collide with yours.

It steals your breath away, warmth flooding through you and making you melt at his touch. He tentatively moves against you, lips softly brushing against your own.

He pulls back for a split second, chest rising and falling. But you lean forward, pressing your lips against his once again.

And that’s all it takes to drown.

Jungkook litters kisses all down your jaw and neck, and you find yourself stumbling backwards, back hitting his mattress. It’s only a matter of a few moments before his torso is hovering over you, and you reach up, clutching onto his shoulders.

Your clothes scatter across the room and Jungkook’s bare chest presses against you. He marks your skin in the shape of his lips, all while his name profusely tumbles out of your own. He pushes into you, gently at first, like he has something to prove. You accept him fully, nails sinking into his back as you both climax, an onslaught of gasps and moans escaping the two of you.

His arm wraps securely around your waist, and you're lulled into a deep sleep.

You’re woken to the sound of retching.

A gasp parts from your lips, and you immediately scramble up from the bed, dressed in only the shirt Jungkook had been wearing the night before. You stumble into the bathroom, finding Jungkook hunched over and surrounded with the yellow flowers once again.

However, your breath hitches.

Because this time there’s more of them, and they're all splattered with drops of scarlet.

“Jungkook!” You exclaim, knees buckling down. Placing your hand on his shaking back, you rub it up and down comfortingly.

“I-I was starting to feel b-better…” He chokes out in defeat, hands clutching onto the toilet. A cluster of coughs leave him, his voice disappearing as more and more red stained flowers overflow out.

You attempt to coax him, features twisted from watching him be contorted in so much pain. “It’s okay, Jungkook.” Your hold on him is firm, “We’ll figure it out, don’t worry, we’ll–”

“Y-You don’t understand….” He cries out, "I-I can't, Y/N…."

A deep furrow in your brows form and Jungkook shakes his head, eyes shut as his forehead lulls down, “I-I can’t do this anymore….I-I’m still in love with her."

It feels like someone’s just stabbed you in the heart.

Jungkook doesn’t look at you, entangled in too much shame and agony to dare raise his head and say the same words with your eyes meeting his. The same pair of eyes that discovered him one day and reached out, not letting him stumble on his own anymore.

Orbs glossing over, you rise with shaky legs. The feeling in the pit of your chest twists and knots, spreading through you like a deep ache.

Jungkook can’t say anything, not even at the sound of you grabbing your clothes, the unevenness of your footsteps against his carpet, or the door shutting on your way out from his apartment, the frequency echoing off the walls. His gaze remains fixated on the flowers, even plucking one completely smeared in red, wondering why fate was always so cruel to him – why, in his mind when he’s smiling and laughing with you, Aera’s warm eyes and big smile show up there instead, forever imprinted into his brain.

***

You stagger on your way home.

A stream of hot tears roll down your face, with harsh breaths shuddering out of you. Your sobs are thundering and violent, racking through your entire form.

There’s a thousand emotions running through you, leaving your mind completely numb and your body feeling like it’s breaking, scattering into pieces. You wonder how you could have let it gotten to this point, wonder how you could have been so foolish.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you soon arrive at your apartment complex. You can barely unlock the front door, gasping as you stumble in.

You fall right at the entrance, clawing your hands around your throat, eyes rapidly darting and flickering everywhere. The pain accelerates, winding tortuously over and over around your windpipe.

The cord snaps.

A sharp chain of coughs leaves your lips, vibrating down your throat and through your lungs. It morphs into a retch and the contents come spilling forth before you can even blink.

Deeply heaving, you can only stare helplessly at the clutter of bright orangish-red tiger flowers before you.

Love is twisted.

It threatens to find you unexpectedly, spontaneously making you crumble within seconds. It’s a spur of the moment, welcoming in painful affection. Love at first sight, that withers into petals of grief. Or simply an unexpected encounter, getting spun into something that turns your entire world upside down.

It develops, it grows. It becomes so much more, rendering you weak and constricting your breathing, just as the mere thought of it makes you feel sick.

Until of course, it becomes long term, a trail of flowers never leaving your side.

You don’t see Jungkook for the remaining days until the wedding, avoiding him like the plague. He doesn’t reach out, keeping to himself like he’s always done.

However, running into him at the wedding now, is a completely different story.

He’s dressed in a sleek fitted black suit, his hair styled and pushed back. He’s working alongside the caterer, a crease in between his brows as he ensures the food arrives in a timely manner.

You had just entered the venue, eyes scanning around for any indication of where Aera might be.

As cruel as fate would be, your eyes suddenly find his.

You attempt to look away, but it only takes three steps for Jungkook to be right in front of you.

He looks the same, his skin pale and dark circles still underneath his eyes, tiredness running deep through him.

He opens and closes his mouth several times, before quietly asking a question that has you nearly coughing.

“Are…are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Your voice comes out croaked, immediately taking a step back from him. He catches the movement and you notice it right away – the way his eyes scan all over your face.

You wonder if he can see the fatigue in your shoulders, wonder if he can see the bags starting to form under your eyes, or how pale you seem to have gotten. Wonder if he knows you were throwing up just this morning, mind swirling with thoughts of him and lungs brimming with flowers, unable to loosen the imprint he’s left.

“Are you sure? I–” He reaches out and you flinch, but then a call of your name has you spinning around.

“Aera has been looking for you two.” A woman you instantly recognize as her mother, informs. You nod, ignoring the pleading look in Jungkook’s eyes that just makes your lungs constrict.

After all, you were here for someone else entirely.

But when you and Jungkook follow her into a side room to see Aera completely decked out in a lavious white wedding dress, you can only harshly swallow.

“Y-You look amazing.” You sputter out, and she has a huge, radiant smile.

“Isn’t it lovely?” She chuckles, “I can’t wait until you get married and wear one too, Y/N!”

You know she means well, but your lips are pursued together, not a single word slipping out as you numbingly nod.

She turns to Jungkook, her smile widening, “What do you think, Kookie?”

It catches Jungkook off guard, his gaze previously on you.

A small smile laces on his lips and he answers her genuinely.

“It’s lovely on you, Aera. You look very beautiful.”

She giggles, looping her arm around his.

But you can see everything.

Jungkook’s eyes are tender and warm, fondness radiating out from every fiber of his body. He holds her gently, as if treasuring her was his uttermost priority.

Your breath hitches, a wave of nausea hitting you. There’s nothing you can mutter except a quiet ‘excuse me’ as you’re racing out of the room, hand clamping against your mouth and feet hurriedly filtering through the venue.

You don’t even find a bathroom, yanking open the door to a staff closet before you stumble down, tiger flowers bursting out of your lips. Water builds up in your eyes, hand clutching onto your chest as the retching continues, a deep burn being left behind.

It’s when the flowers slow down, decreasing in volume that you manage to swipe some of the sweat trailing down your temples. Your vision finally focuses through all the tears, small coughs still trembling through your windpipe.

A small gasp behind you has you freezing.

Your half-lidded eyes snap back, finding Jungkook's paralyzed ones. A hand is covering his mouth, his voice quivering.

“Oh my god….”

You don’t have the strength to will your voice to work, barely able to breath in and out with your congested airflow. Jungkook falls to his knees, eyes scanning all over the flowers before flickering up to you.

“You–” He begins, form frantic. “In here…the f-flowers….”

His hand plucks up on the tiger flower, perfectly matching the ink on his skin.

He lets go of the flower and it flutters down to you. His lips move, horror transfixed in his eyes as the realization dawns onto him, hitting him all at once.

“I-I broke you….”

You sniffle, arm coming up to swipe away the tears that have collected in your eyes. But Jungkook is faster, the pads of his thumbs immediately coming up to cup your face, gently brushing them away.

You look up, gaze locked onto his. And you can see everything.

He understands – his pain reflecting yours.

“Jungkook!” He sucks in a breath, head swiveling around to a voice echoing out from the closet. “Where have you been? Everyone’s already taken their seats.”

“I-I’ll be right there.” He turns to you, but you’re already scooping the flowers up, tucking them into a bag that you found nearby. Jungkook silently joins you, helping you until the closet is completely clear of any trace of them.

You leave before him, not exchanging one word.

The wedding commences.

You have taken your seat at the front, having a full display of the event right before you. Jungkook sits a row behind you, and you’re grateful at not having to be so close to him for the long duration.

Because as much as you can acknowledge the shared pain you hold – you know that the existence for Jungkook's is why you’re gathered here today, and you know that yours is just sitting a row away.

He will never love you like you do him. Aera will never love him like he does her.

The ceremony begins and you look up, gazing at the couple you’ve come to see tie the knot. The marriage officiant speaks up, going through each and every piece of what will bring them together. Your eyes are focused, but ever so and then, they furrow at Aera.

Not because of envy, but rather, it’s like her eyes are wavering, prodding around in the audience instead.

What is she doing?

You wonder, only seeing her glance at Sunoo a couple of times or breaking out of her daze to repeat the officiant words.

It’s almost like she’s focused on–

Your eyes trail, following her field of vision until it lands straight on Jungkook. And you’re even more caught off guard when you find out where his gaze is directed.

He’s looking at you, eyes not wavering even when you catch him.

You flush at the realization, quickly averting your eyes to focus back onto the couple. Thankfully, it soon draws to an end and the officiant wraps up the ceremony.

“You may now kiss the bride.” Sunoo leans in and Aera smiles, as does the officiant.

He pronounces them as husband and wife and a big cheer erupts from the guests. Everyone claps – including you and the couple descends down, interacting with those that have attended their wedding.

You take up the opportunity to depart, desperately needing some fresh air and Jungkook catches onto the action.

“Jungkook!” Aera exclaims, leaving Sunoo’s side and looping her arm around his, “Come on! I want a pictur–”

“Not now, Aera.” He winces with an apologetic smile, feet headed after the direction you’ve left in. Aera watches in complete disbelief, not even hearing Sunoo call out her name.

His steps are quickened, eyes darting back and forth. He bumps into a couple of guests on the way out, simply giving them a quick smile before he resumes trudging against the tiled floor.

His heart is racing, so much to the point where it feels like it might burst.

Within minutes, he finds your backside on a bench outside near the venue, shoulders hunched and making your form appear smaller than ever.

“Y/N?” He breathes out, slowly walking towards you.

“J-Jungkook?” You swivel, startled that he had followed you out here.

He stands in front of you, kneeling down. The eye contact makes you flinch, an uncomfortable sensation churning in your chest the longer he looks at you.

But before you can run away, before you can even search for a place to empty out the flowers threatening to spill from your throat, he leans forward.

He leans forward, and his lips collide with your own.

You softly gasp, heat brushing on your cheeks. It feels just like the first time you shared a kiss with him, warmth flooding through you.

Your trembling hands reach out, tugging him closer.

He places his own on top of yours, holding them as lips moving fervently against yours.

You feel it all – the delicate flowers blooming within your chest, the hues of orangish-red coloring your windpipe, the itch to push him away spiking more than ever.

But you part from him with a different reason altogether.

A sharp breath escapes you, airflow flooding into your lungs. It feels easier to inhale and exhale, no longer feeling like there was something constricting and blocking your windpipe.

As your chest rises and falls sporadically, you stare at Jungkook in astonishment. He mimics the expression you hold, a twinkle beginning to spark in his eyes.

Almost as if he were experiencing the same thing.

“I-I can–”

“Breathe?” He completes with a smile and you slowly nod, tears slipping out of your eyes.

Jungkook wraps his arms around you comfortingly, his own eyes glossing over as you tremble. The pads of his thumbs come up to cup your face, gently brushing your tears away.

He rises to his feet, reaching his hand out. You take it within a heartbeat, sniffling as he walks back into the venue with you.

Your tender gazes occasionally meet, with soft smiles being exchanged.

A sharp scream pierces through the air.

The two of you whirl around in an instant, noticing Aera's mother stepping out of the room in the frenzy.

“What happened?” You immediately ask, watching the woman’s shake her head frantically.

She doesn’t answer you, too caught up in her own thoughts, “Oh, it’s terrible, so, so terrible–”

You frown, but Jungkook tugs on you, eyes staring straight into the room that she had left.

Stepping next to him, your eyes transfixed into horror.

Aera stands in the middle of the room, with Sunoo by her side – a plethora of tiger flowers and tulips surrounding the two of them.

#jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook hanahaki au #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts jungkook hanahaki au #bts jungkook angst #bts jungkook fluff #bts jungkook smut #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #bts smut #bts hanahaki au #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jungkook x reader

341 notes · View notes

that-nerd-who-writes-fanfiction · 2 months

Text

I wrote a random fic thing (beginning and overview summary) on my phone when I had a spare half hour in work.

I don’t know if this will actually become something, I’m focusing on rewriting the next chapter of the Leon’s knowing and knowing treason fic before I properly start anything else, but I got bored and had an idea I didn’t want to forget.

Arthur takes Merlin not flirting with him after the sigil thing as a rejection. Merlin doesn’t know what a sigil means until Gwaine sees his, Arthur is embarrassed until Merlin claps him around the head and drags him out to yell about explaining what the hell sigils mean. Merlin gives Arthur half of a coin that his mother gave him (originally a gift from his father) and tells him he’s going to ask more about courting traditions, Arthur laughs and tells him that giving a sigil back completes the union and is basically an agreement to get married. Merlin kisses Arthur’s hand and tells him that of course he’ll marry him, but after he gets a chance to do the whole courting thing because Arthur deserves it. Possibly Hanahaki thrown in there too because I don’t think I’ve ever written that but I’m not sure yet.

— preview —

Arthur has loved Merlin as long as he’s known him. It started harmlessly enough, a childish crush on the insufferable peasant boy with a lack of respect for authority and a self assured ability to get himself too deep into trouble.

At first, Arthur was simply curious. Merlin hadn’t realised he was a prince for their first interaction, so it made sense that he felt confident enough to mouth off. Their second interaction however, had Arthur’s heart beating a little faster. Merlin had completely disregarded Arthur’s royal status in a way no one else ever had, and the drop in his voice, lilting with a slight Essetir accent, as he completely defaced the way Arthur would hear “My Lord” forever. That night at dinner with his Father, Arthur had choked on his wine when a servant had used his title! As though that wasn’t bad enough, Merlin had Arthur beat in their fight, though he’d never admit it. Arthur had no idea how the country boy managed to best him but the humiliating truth was that up until Merlin got distracted, Arthur was loosing.

And then Merlin saved his life, being rewarded a position as his manservant. Arthur tried to hate him, it seemed easy enough with the stuttering in his heart whenever Merlin came near him. Any attraction Arthur had felt as a result of Merlin’s fighting ability left him as soon as he saw the incompetence Merlin displayed when he forgot to hand Arthur his sword and fumbled through every piece of armour he had.

It came back full force when Merlin was suddenly well adept at polishing, sorting and handling his armour, but that was neither here nor there. Merlin had stopped his mindless prattle about nerves and whatever else too, simply wishing Arthur “Good luck” before his tournament. Arthur felt his heart melt a little in his chest.

And then Merlin had warned him about the snakes in Valiant’s shield in low fire light that cast an ethereal glow over his face and lit up his eyes almost golden. There was so much sincerity in his voice and Arthur couldn’t believe someone was capable of speaking so genuinely. Not to a Prince when there would always be a chance for some ulterior motive.

But not with Merlin.

So the long slow descent from harmless crush to falling in love began, and seven years later Arthur was absolutely smitten though only in secret. Merlin had made it perfectly clear that he didn’t care for Arthur in the same way Arthur cared for him, anyway.

———

So thoughts? :)

#bbc merlin #merlin #arthur pendragon #merthur #merlin emrys #ao3 fanfic #i’m bad at tagging #fic preview #fic ideas #random #I’m blaming this on a lack of sleep

135 notes · View notes

floorpillow · 1 month

Text

I'm gonna share some of my fav ace attorney fics with y'all please enjoy. It's mostly narumitsu but there's some klapollo there too

@girlanachrotism sent me all but one? Two? Of these btw. I just think I should say that

A brief for the defense by Ophelia_writes (18 chapters, ONGOING, one of the most well-written fics I've ever read. Takes place during the first trilogy with the last few chapters taking place during Bridge To The Turnabout. This fiction gave me whiplash genuinely I think it did something to me. Highly highly recommend even though it's still ongoing)

Pressure (pushing down on me) by ApprenticeofDoyle (7 chapters, COMPLETED. A few different cases, all original trilogy. This one's real good)

If I woke up (next to you) by ApprenticeofDoyle (1 chapter, COMPLETED. Same universe as Pressure ^. Takes place after the engarde case, love confessions between phoenix and miles. Implied sexual content but nothing explicit)

You ever been in love? By hechima (6 chapters, COMPLETED. Apollo justice trilogy. Slow burn, miles and phoenix are so in love)

Things are as they are by hechima (3 chapters, COMPLETED. Same universe as You ever been in love?. Miles sets Apollo and klavier up with a cabin for a few days. Love confessions)

darling i'd wait for you (even if you didn't ask me to) by sondersunrise (1 chapter, COMPLETED. Miles brings phoenix to a wedding as his plus one. Love confessions)

kick up the dust as we dance in the sun by whackamacka (11 chapters, COMPLETED. alright trust me on this one guys - 1930s dustbowl au narumitsu. Phoenix is an orphan farmboy who works ad a farmhand for the von karma estate. This one is so fucking good please try it I'm begging you)

come find me south of heaven by whackamacka (2 chapters, ONGOING. Sequel Fic to Kick Up The Dust. Phoenix as a defense attorney in Chicago)

i always want you when i'm finally fine by whiskeydmay (6 chapters, COMPLETED. This one's a hanahaki fic I am so weak for hanahaki. Five chapters from Phoenix pov and then one from miles pov.)

love most definitely requited by The_Eclectic_Bookworm (1 chapter, COMPLETED. Another hanahaki piece. Phoenix adopts trucy, and miles contracts Hanahaki. Franziska and Kay insist he confesses to Phoenix, so he does. Love confessions, fluff)

In The Dead Of Night by Harrowdeon (1 chapter, COMPLETED. Miles invites phoenix and trucy to Europe for a bit. Trucy wakes up from a nightmare and miles comforts her)

i'm getting so tired of coughing out my lungs by heiiskltchen (3 chapters, COMPLETED. Phoenix wright and his relationship with food after dahlia. This one is so heartbreaking tbh I fully agree with this concept)

#ace attorney #wrightworth #narumitsu #apollo justice #klapollo #fanfiction #ace attorney fanfic #ace attorney fanfiction #hanahaki #hanahaki disease #my post #fav #a brief for the defense #abftd #ace attorney abftd

62 notes · View notes

wooataes · 9 months

Text

Real Eyes, Fake Lies (Part Three)

Pairing: soulmate!Lee Jihoon x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.7K

Warnings: angst, Hanahaki!AU, nothing too bad for this chapter, reader is emotionally stunted sometimes 💀

Summary: What do you do when you find out the one person that was created by the universe to be yours doesn’t want you back?

A/N: thank you guys so much for your patience on this! There’s definitely going to be another part coming fairly soon, as I already have it pre-written so expect the next part in the next coming week or so! 💜

- Tae 🥰💜

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Request to join my taglist here!

The next time Jihoon sees you since the cafeteria fiasco, it is a week later in your shared Film Studies class on a Friday afternoon. To his credit, he never noticed that you were actually in his class, but he can’t help but feel a little guilty that you’ve been near so many times and he’s never cared enough to notice anyone else besides himself.

He’s sitting close to the front of the classroom as you rush into the room as soon as the warning bell rings. He watches you out of the corner of his eye as your eyes trail over the tables for a free seat. Your cheeks are flushed a gentle pink with your hair pulled back in 2 braids tied at the with pastel purple ribbons, with a purple cropped t-shirt to match under a pair of denim overalls. Jihoon internally winces as he notices the only free seat in the room is beside him, around the exact same time as you notice as well. Without looking directly at you, Jihoon takes his backpack off the free chair and places it by his feet, leaving it free for you. You pause for a moment before slowly sitting down beside your soulmate, cautiously, as if you’re afraid that he would get up and run if you got too close.

“Sorry,” is the only word you murmur to your soulmate as you pull out your laptop and workbook in front of you. Jihoon responds with a soft, “it’s okay,” before looking up at the work board at the front of the room, trying his hardest to ignore your presence next to him, and the unwelcome feeling of anxiety and guilt swirling inside his stomach.

Most of the class goes off without a hitch, albeit Jihoon’s curiosity getting the better of him a few times, causing him to glance at you from his peripheral vision. He notices your pastel pink pen in your hand - huh, interesting. You’re left-handed -, scribbling down notes with a pretty pastel rainbow aesthetic and swirly handwriting. He also spots something on your wrist, a heart shaped red tattoo. On closer inspection, he realizes the heart is coloured in red with black polka dots and a little head at the pointy end - a Love Bug. Before you can look over to him, as if feeling his eyes on you, Jihoon turns his head back to the board at the front. If he was honest with himself, he doesn’t remember a single thing that has happened so far during this whole class; too conscious of his heartbroken soulmate beside him, your dull but constant pain running through him. He thinks he is safe until 5 minutes before class finishes, when Professor Kim announces what Jihoon thinks is the worst outcome that could happen.

“For your final project for the semester, I’m assigning a project to be completed in pairs,” he begins, writing up on the board in front of him. “You will work together to study a film of your choice; it can be any film you want. You need to work with your partner to write out a presentation on a conflict presented in the film and an opinion that others wouldn’t have thought of. Seems simple enough, right?” When the class all hum and murmur in agreement, Professor Kim’s next words make Jihoon want to disappear. “The partner you will work with will be your desk mate. Presentations will be at the end of the semester. If you have any queries please feel free to contact me outside of class.”

Jihoon nervously, for the first time since class had begun, turns his body towards you, his deskmate, his soulmate, and now his project partner for the rest of the semester. You’re pale, and dread runs through your bodies. When you turn to face him, your soulmate feels even worse when you begin to babble.

“I-I’m sorry, Jihoon. If I wasn’t late, I wouldn’t have been made to sit beside you, and you wouldn’t have had to be made to deal with me for this project.” You’re scrambling to put your belongings into your backpack as the bell signals for the end of class and the day. “I will ask Professor Kim for a switch, or I will do this project on my own so you don’t have to-”

“You don’t have to do that.” Jihoon interrupts you, and you finally pause to look back at him, confusion all over your face.

“But-”

“It’s fine, it can’t be helped. I’m not mad, y’know, if that’s what you think.” He looks away again, packing his own backpack. “I’m not going to, like, hold it against you? We’re in the same class, it’s not a big deal and bound to happen eventually.” He’s rambling now too, he realizes. “And we’re adults, we can keep this professional, right?”

You nod your head quickly. “Yeah, of course.” When Jihoon nods back in response, you nervously hold your backpack in your arms. “Umm, if you want to, we can study at mine. Soonyoung, Seokmin, Wonwoo, Mingyu, Jun and Seungkwan are coming over tonight for a movie night and sleeping over for Soonyoung’s birthday. We could get a rough idea on what we want to study.” You’re looking everywhere but at Jihoon, all the other classmates leaving the classroom in their respective pairs, seemingly discussing the project. “I know you live with the guys and, of course, Ji-ah is invited too!” You insist quickly, Jihoon raising his eyebrows at you in surprise. “You know what, forget I asked.” You laugh awkwardly, slipping your arms through the loops on your backpack. “Just let me know when you want to..”

“Movie night sounds great.” He stops you once more, feeling the bubble of anxiety that was rising up through your body disperse. “Ji-ah is with her family for the weekend, and I was going to be at home alone anyway. And we both know what Soonyoung is like if someone misses his birthday.” He deadpans, and is surprised when you let out a quiet laugh.

“Yeah, you’re right.” You hum, before giving him one final nod. “Well, it starts at 7, but you can come over whenever and we can brainstorm for a bit before everyone gets there?” You offer, and he nods at you. “Okay, see you soon.” You wave at him before turning on your heel and quickly making your way outside of the classroom and also the campus. Jihoon doesn’t know if it’s a good idea or not, but he knew he wouldn’t miss his best friend’s birthday.

Jihoon arrives at your home at 5:30, and before he can even knock, he is greeted by Kwon Soonyoung suffocating him into a bone-crushing hug.

“I KNEW YOU’D COME, JIHOON-AH!” Soonyoung cooed loudly, suffocating his friend's face into his chest, as said friend aggressively flails his arms as he tries to get the overgrown tiger off him.

“Get… off…” Jihoon whines, shoving him off with pink cheeks.

“I knew you loved me.” Soonyoung smirks as he steps aside, letting your soulmate inside. “But you know everyone is not going to be here until 7, right? Why are you here so early?”

“He’s here for me, Soonie!” You yell from the top of the staircase. Your best friend raises his eyebrow questioningly, and before Jihoon can answer, you’re leaning against the railing of the staircase. “We have a project for Film Studies, getting a head start.”

“Nuh-uh!” Soonyoung frowns, taking Jihoon’s overnight bag from him and throwing it into the spare bedroom. “It’s my birthday, and you’re not STUDYING. You have the whole semester to get that shit done, one more night isn’t going to hurt!”

Jihoon watches you lean your head back and let out an audible groan. “Really?”

“Yes, really!” Seungcheol emerges from the kitchen with Jeonghan behind him, both wearing aprons. “We’re making the snacks for tonight, and you are on snack duty with us while the guests play games until everyone arrives. Come on, Bug!”

You whine loudly, and Jihoon is amused when you fall limp at the top of the stairs, Jeonghan immediately starting to flail and rush up the stairs to you.

“Oh no you don’t! You’re not getting out of this!” He scolds playfully, taking your limp body and scooping you up bridal style.

“Noooooo…” you groan as Jeonghan carries you down the stairs and takes you to the kitchen.

“Come on, Jihoon-ah!” Soonyoung grins, taking his arm and dragging him to the living room, where Seokmin, Jun and Wonwoo are setting up beanbags and inflatable mattresses on the floor in front of the couches. “We’re almost done setting everything up.

“Oh, you made it after all!” Wonwoo smiles at his housemate, who only nods slowly and sinks down onto one of the couches to watch the others throw bundles of blankets onto the mattresses before joining him.

Jihoon can vaguely hear you and your brother nagging at each other and the various sounds of clanging pans mixed with Jeonghan’s amused laughs for the next hour or so from the kitchen as Soonyoung and the boys all take turns playing some games on the TV, and after a lull in conversation, Jihoon can’t help but ask: “are they always like this?”

“Who, hyung and Y/N?” Seokmin asks as Junhui groans at Wonwoo, who just killed his character. “I think Jeonghannie-hyung eggs them on a bit… Y/N hasn’t really been the same since a few weeks ago, so I think this is Cheol-hyung’s way of trying to get her back out of her shell a bit, y’know?”

“She’ll be fine.” Soonyoung insists, frowning to himself. “She’ll get there eventually, we just have to be there for her when she needs it. I don’t know how she is going to go when Seungkwan gets here tonight though.”

Seungkwan? Jihoon thought, eyebrows furrowed. Besides Soonyoung and Seokmin, he’s the only other person Y/N is super close with. What’s happened?

“You really should have told her, babe.” Seokmin whispers harshly, nudging his soulmate’s side.

“And make her hate herself all over again? It kills me enough to see her the way she is now.”

“What’s happened with Seungkwan?” Junhui raises his eyebrow.

The doorbell saves the birthday boy from having to answer the lingering question, but that relief is short-lived when he hears the new voice that echoes through the house.

“Hi guys!” Seungkwan’s chirpy voice resounds, and before Soonyoung and Seokmin can get to him, you’re faster.

“Seungkwannie!” You beam, rushing from the kitchen to greet your close friend, and Jihoon sees you rush down the hallway. “Thank god you’re here, I need my movie cuddle buddy tonight- oh!”

You stop as quick as you had started, pausing at the sight of another person beside Seungkwan, a person you recognize as a regular member of the set crew in the college musicals, a man you interact with quite often - Chwe Hansol.

“Hansol! Hey!” You give a small smile as your brother, best friend and their soulmates slowly make their way to the entrance of the house, Jihoon and his housemates watching from a distance. “I didn’t know you were coming!”

“Hey, Y/N-ie..” Seungkwan nervously eyes you, Hansol smiling softly at you.

“Hey. Thanks for inviting me to come along, guys.” He squeezes Seungkwan’s hand in his, causing you to stare at their intertwined hands. “It’s a bit daunting meeting your soulmate’s friends all in one hit properly, so I really appreciate being able to meet you all together.”

“Hansol-ah, I’ll give you a tour of the house and where you’ll be sleeping tonight!” Seokmin intervenes, and you watch as Seungkwan gives him a reassuring nod. Hansol nods in reply, easily slipping past you to follow Seokmin’s lead to show him around, to give you time to talk to Seungkwan.

Uh oh. Jihoon can feel it. The confusion running through your body as you eye your friend, who can’t even look you in the eye. The confusion slowly begins to turn into hurt as Seungkwan takes a slow breath.

“Soulmate?” You ask weakly, days and hours of work that had taken to build your internal wall of emotions beginning to crumble within seconds.

“Uh.. yeah..” Seungkwan bites his lip. “I found out last week.”

After a beat of silence, you smile. “I’m happy for you, Kwan-ah.” Jihoon’s eyebrows raise once more, as well as the little crowd that was around you.

“You’re… Happy for me?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? Your soulmate, Kwan-ah, that's incredible.” You take his hands, squeezing them tightly as he breathes a heavy sigh of relief.

“Bug, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he stammers now. “I didn’t know how to bring it up, especially since everything with you and-”

“Don’t be sorry,” you smile again, but Jihoon can feel it, you’re falling apart bit by bit. “I’m the one who’s sorry. It’s one of the biggest moments of your life, and I made you feel like you couldn’t tell me. I’ll just miss my movie buddy.” You laugh dryly.

“Oh? I’ll still be here for you to cuddle, silly,” he insisted, but you let go of his hands and shake your head quickly.

“No. I can’t get in the way of you and your soulmate, I wouldn’t do that. I respect your relationship too much to jeopardize it in any way.”

“Huh?” Seungkwan tilts his head. “How would you be-?”

“I-It’s getting closer until movie night begins, I got to go get changed.” You nod your head quickly, spinning on your heel and rushing up the stairs, ignoring Seungcheol and Seungkwan’s calls for you as you close your door shut tight behind you.

Jihoon winces as soon as the door is shut, feeling the dam break inside him as you silently begin to weep on the other side of your door. You’re dead silent so no one can hear, only letting out the occasional sniffle as you rummage through your closet to find some pajamas to wear for the slumber party.

“Hyung, I don’t understand.” Seungkwan frowns at Cheol, who is running his hands through his hair, exasperated. “Why does she think that she will jeopardize my relationship with Sol?”

“Don’t take it personally.” Your brother sighs. “She has got it in her mind that she can’t be platonically intimate with anybody who has a soulmate.”

“What? Why?”

“It’s what happened with our parents. Our father left his soulmate, our mother for another woman. She saw what it did to our mother, so she decided she would never ever give anything more than a quick hug to any of her friends who have soulmates. She would never want to ruin someone’s relationship like that for anything. She doesn’t want to be like our shitty excuse of a Dad.” Seungcheol looks conflicted, deep in thought as he speaks.

“Give her time.” Jeonghan smiles, patting your friend’s back as he looks towards your closed door at the top of the stairs. “She wouldn’t miss Soonyoungie’s birthday for the world.”

Jihoon frowns deeply to himself on the couch, trying to push your sadness down as his mind goes into overdrive, the voices of the others being drowned out by his own thoughts.

Why would you purposely hurt and isolate yourself like this? He hates as much skinship as the next person, but seeing how you act with your other friends, he can tell you’re torturing yourself by this unspoken rule you’ve created for no one to follow but you.

Every new thing Jihoon learns about you sends him deeper into a confusing hole of thoughts and questions he’s begging to ask you, but he’s nowhere near that close to you yet to be able to ask.

Will he ever be close to you?

Real Eyes, Fake Lies Taglist

@cinnamoroxie @enhacolor @mikachu-chu @jojowantstocry @changbinisms @scarlet789 @i-dont-give-a-fok @im-gemmy @shookyungsoo @ametheyistheart @friendlywraith @kawennote09 @coupddeongie @sunooschubbycheeks @zgzgzh @mar-627 @side-angel @kuleo26 @deltamoon666 @snowgirlfallen @lixiel0ver @phenomenalgirl9 @weebotakuboy

#seventeen woozi #seventeen fanfic #seventeen angst #woozi #woozi x reader #Lee Jihoon #lee jihoon x reader #seventeen au #seventeen x reader #woozi Angst #Lee Jihoon angst #Jihoon x reader

188 notes · View notes