#cure petal

[toanw]

alchemical precure 2024 edition ✨

[salsasprecure]

and here’s the very last of my cures by color drawings! it includes my purples, oranges, and my one white!

drawing these has been so much fun, I really loved putting them all together like this

[inaris-mage-of-storms]

It's been two days and all I can think about is Jimmy dropping a "hello petal" at Martyn. I'm. Sir. You can't do this to me.

[debtsunpaid]

tag drop for CHANTINELLE / "ELLIE" from hellblazer, succubus seeking a normal life but perpetually cast in the role of traitor! her song is 'devourer' by aidoneus.

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP Fanfic Idea: Petal to the Metal.

It's starts off simple enough.

Tucker realizes that, with the map from the Far Frozen, there was a chance they could find an earth similar to their own within the Infinite Realms. The only difference? It would be a few years ahead of their timeline.

If they happen to pop over there and gather "helpful" tips, like "What were the lottery winning numbers in 2008?" or "What companies were the best to invest in the early 2000s?" then who would be the wiser? It's not like they were stealing anything.

They just put one foot in front of the others at the starting line. Some may say cheating (Sam) but Tucker prefered to be prepared. It didn't take too long for Danny to agree.

A way to guarantee wealth? Sucess? Heck, they may even be able to "discover" cures for deadly illnesses. It would be rather selfish of them not to use the map for the greater good.

Sam chose to stay behind, stating she was already rich and didn't need to cheat into more gold. Tucker personally thought she didn't understand the common folk like the two boys.

The plan was simple. They had already located the suitable earth; they would go in, spend a weekend sightseeing (and gathering info), and then return home. As far as their parents knew, they were going to a concert in another state, having bought fake tickets and hotel rooms to sell them. It took a lot of begging on both sixteen year olds part but eventually neither parent had denied them the trp and off they went.

Danny had even attacked a miniature portal ray to their beat-up car, having taken inspiration from the time Jonny 13 had modified his bike back in the day. He had blown it up after helping the biker win back Kitty, but he hadn't forgotten about it.

They hoped that a car like their own wouldn't stand out too badly in 2020, praying that people would just assume them to bepoor. How different could cars be in such a short time anyway?

The bags were packed, the car was filled, Danny had set the miniature portal, and the two drove out of the city limits to fire it up. It required a lot of speed, since Tucker's plain toyota wasn't a space ship design to travel the death diminsion.

Danny had offered to drive, seeing as Tucker hated being behind the wheel on long road trips, and once his parents could see them- Mr. Foley didn't like his son lending his car to his friends. One never knows what could happen with teenagers- he had switch seat with Danny.

Danny, who has Fenton blood, had him put the petals to the metal and had no problems raising their speed to the one hundred needed for the miniature portal to work. The plan was perfect.

The plan fell apart when the portal opened in front of a clown about to put on a show for a large crowd. They ran him over with their car.

"Omg! You hit a clown!" Tucker screams watching the body roll off the windsheild.

Danny's grip on the stirring wheel was knuckle white but his eyes were narrowed in satisfication. "Good"

"No not good! This isn't Freakshow! That was a random clown doing a show and we killed him!" Tucker screams as Danny puts the car in reverse and runs him over again.

"Danny!"

Outside the vechile people were screaming, lots of them pointing and one clear voice ran above the rest.

"They killed Joker!"

Danny reached down and flickered on his favoritedriving song as various people started to climb on the stage. Poeple dressed in strange clothing.

Was that a Bat?

"Hold on Tuck!" is his own warning before Tokyo Drift started blaring through the speakers as he slammed his foot on the petal again. They blew through some barrels of green liquid and drifted off the stage onto the road with Danny sining at the top of his lungs.

Tucker could barely hear himself scream as people jumped out fo the way unprepare for a Driving Fenton like Amity Park was.

Maybe Sam was right. This was a terrible idea.

[ellievickstar]

Bloodied Bonds

A/N: This was...fun. I wanted to fit it all into one part but it was getting too long sooooo yeah.....have fun :)

Summary: When hanahaki disease festers in your lungs, how will your family help you while you hide it from your mate?

Pairing: Azriel x Reader, Rhysand x Sister!Reader

Warnings: Elain slander, dying

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

There they were again.

Azriel smiled at Elain with those eyes…those eyes. And in your soul you felt the bond writhe with pain and clench in your chest. You remained still as you immediately brought your eyes to look at the ground beneath you. This hurt. This really hurt. A part of you wanted to deny it, wanted to believe that Azriel would remain faithful to you always, that he would stay true to the mating bond, something he desperately used to want before we got together.

Now, you were not so sure.

“Sweetheart…,” Cassian said from behind me, startling. He knew what you was seeing, saw it in his own brother’s eyes. Azriel may have always been a mystery to everyone else outside the inner circle, but his eyes — his beautiful hazel eyes — showed you everything you needed to know.

“I’m fine,” You waved Cassian off, bringing down shields on the bond, shutting out his emotions, the pain from it, and shutting yourself in as a stray tear slipped down your face, “I’m really fine,” You repeated.

Truth to be told, Cassian did not know what to say to you. After you had defended Azriel since you were kids, brought him to you and Rhysand’s mother, convinced her to take him in. Cassian did not know what could come over Azriel to internally betray you in this way. However as you began coughing Cassian was alarmed when you raced towards the kitchen sink and coughed out flower petals, one after another.

“What the hell-” He started, moving to pull back your hair as he observed what you had coughed out. Blood and petals coated the sink and as you choked them out one by one, slowly calming down, you waved your hand magicking it away. And it was then it hit him.

You were dying.

“Explain. Now.” He demanded. Looking away you mumbled.

“A few weeks ago after I first realised he loved her, I started coughing up flowers and my tears, my tears turned a gold colour. I asked Madja what was wrong. It’s a soul disease called hanahaki, caused by the betrayal of the heart and unrequited love. The tears were caused by the same thing, a unique symptom that is because of my magic due to being the High Lord’s sister. She said the flowers in my lungs will continue to grow until it suffocates me and I die. The star tears are just a symptom that causes physical pain, she doesn’t know if there will be any repercussions from it,” That’s all you managed to ramble out before you doubled over and heaved again, blood dripping out of your gaping mouth as you choked and coughed on the flower petals making their way up your throat.

Cassian was at a loss of words, on one hand he wanted to be angry, angry at you for keeping this from him, for not telling him sooner so he could beat the crap out of Azriel. On the other hand he was…devastated. You had always been like a sister to him, since he first met you as a kindred and fierce spirit when you were seven years old. The three of them had been twenty and Cassian had fell to his knees before the little girl with such a bright spirit, who dared to scream in Devlon’s face when he said females belonged in the kitchen.

Cassian had sworn to protect you.

And now, against a disease he felt helpless.

“Is there a cure?” He asked.

“Madja said there were two ways, either Azriel proves that he still loves me, which we both know won’t happen when he won’t stay away from Elain for more than a few hours, or I could have the flowers cut from their roots and removed, it’s a risky procedure and even successful all my feelings towards Azriel will be removed entirely, given the mating bond, she thinks it will be stripped from my soul. I….I wanted to wait.”

“So you either have your emotions robbed from you, make Azriel realise he’s an idiot, or die?”

You nod.

“Tell Azriel,” “I can’t!” You hissed, “We both know I can’t. He loves her, Cassian, I can feel it, I can see it, everytime he looks at her it’s like she’s the one who hung the stars and moon while when he looks at me that light dies!” You bang your fist on the table.

You point to where Azriel and Elain was far out in the gardens. His shadows no where to be seen, both blissfully unaware of what was going on inside with you and Cassian.

“He acts like she’s the one who went through countless of interrogation, of torture, when she got captured by enemies. He acts like she was the one who protected Velaris with Rhysand when she went under the mountain to be taken advantage of, when Amarantha held me down and tried to force answers out of me,” You let out another pained cry as you slid to the ground, “I have done everything for him, been through hell and back with him. And even after everything he still wants her, still wants to be with her, still doesn’t want me.”

Cassian brought you closer to him as he sat next to you and let you cry on his shoulder.

You cried and cried, and cried until there was nothing left. Cried until you couldn’t cry.

And when you finally fell asleep from exhaustion, Cassian glanced out the house to the gardens where his brother trailed Elain, and Cassian made a decision.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

“You told my brother!?” You shrieked. Rhysand and Cassian was now sitting around you in Rhys’s study.

“You told Cassian before me?” Rhysand shot back. You rolled your eyes as you scoffed, “Oh please I didn’t tell him anything I was throwing up flowers in front of him, not much I could do except explain.”

Shaking his head, Rhys sighed as he glanced at Cassian and they both shared a look. Narrowing your eyes, the tendrils in your mind crept towards your brother and the general, and surprise coated your face when you realised they had shut you out.

“Let me remind you what I do is my choice.”

“Not when your life is at stake,” Rhysand retorted.

So he had decided something against your will already. Of course, your brother who wanted to help everyone, your brother who thought you were his responsibility, his burden to bear. Your brother who claimed to value your opinion oh so much but then never, not once, ever considered how you feel in anything that had to do with you.

“He doesn’t care. I haven’t even been actively hiding it from him, it’s just that he’s never around to notice,” You said bitterly, “Did you know he missed my birthday? You all did. Because usually he’s the one going around reminding everyone the week before. Did you know our anniversary passed and I had waited for him all day just to realise he was with her?” Stray tears slipped down your cheeks as you tried to hold them back.

Crying meant that you were weak.

And you hated being weak.

That was when Cassian spoke, “Have Madja remove the flowers.”

Rhysand shot a look at him.

“She won’t survive otherwise. Even as we discuss this now she is running out of time, Rhys. Azriel’s infatuation with Elain is unforgivable and at least this way we can save her. Their relationship might never be the same but if Azriel is truly in love with Elain as she feels, then it is possible this way everyone wins.”

“I don’t want the male who almost killed my sister in my court,” Rhys bit out.

“Convincing Azriel that what he is doing is wrong will take too long. Maybe we should have interfered when it first started but now it’s too late. We can still save her, really save her. Not their relationship but at least she’ll live,” “And live with a bond that will eventually diminish into nothing?” “Maybe it’s better that way.”

Glancing between Cassian and your brother, your own inner turmoil seemed to be playing out in front of you as they discussed everything that you had not been able to come to terms with yourself. A part of you could still hardly believe that Azriel would do something like this, hurt you in this way when he himself swore that he would be loyal for eternity.

Mates.

A sacred connection that determined your equal, your partner in everything.

But your parents were mates too…and that did not work out well. So maybe it was time for you to let your mate go.

However, as you opened your mouth to agree with Cassian, to agree that maybe the best option would be to remove the flowers directly, the consequences of your feelings being stolen be damned, a cough climbed up your throat.

And as you coughed out bloody petals onto Rhysand’s office floor….everything went dark.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

It had all happened quickly, too quickly for Rhysand’s liking.

One moment he was debating with Cassian how they would save his sister’s life, the next moment as she was about to say something and he watched in horror as blood came out instead of words. Her eyes drooped and he raced to catch her from hitting her head on the hard wooden floors, and as his ears started ringing, holding his sister’s lifeless body in his arms, as he watched golden tears stream out of her eyes, he noticed there was someone screaming.

And it was not until his throat hurt, until his own throat burned, that he realised he was the one screaming, crying out loud for his sister who’s body seemed as lifeless as the one he had lost all those years ago.

“Get Madja!” He roared at Cassian, “Get her NOW!”

Less that a minute went by when Morrigan and Feyre came into the room, Feyre let out a horrified gasp as Mor took in the scene, freezing as she realised her cousin, her best friend, her only companion during the times after Eris and Keir, was in Rhysand’s arms, still and lifeless even as blood trickled out of her mouth and gold spilled form her closed eyelids.

Madja came shortly after, and Y/N’s body was moved to a different room for Madja to work, Cassian explaining what happened and the illness in Y/N’s body that was causing this. Morrigan took a few steps back, before she crashed into the wall of the hallway and let out her own sob.

And for the first time after Rhysand and Y/N had returned from the mountain, Morrigan wept.

Two days passed, and Y/N did not wake.

Madja estimated that they would have to make a decision within the week whether they would tell Azriel, or cut the flowers out.

And in those two days Azriel did not come.

It was only after Rhysand had asked him to meet, told him about Y/N did Azriel finally realised he had not seen his mate in days. That he had not even spent more than fifteen minutes with her in the past few months.

It was only after Rhysand said that Y/N was dying, did Azriel reach down the now cold and empty bond, and realise he had shut her out. And when he let his walls down, experienced the agony, the pain, the grief she felt even in her unconscious state, did Azriel regret.

“Why didn’t she tell me…” Azriel whispered.

“Because she heard you when I told you to stay away from Elain. I looked into her mind and I realised the day her disease started she went to find you, and you had been in my office, yelling at me that the cauldron had made a mistake, that you wanted Elain,” Rhysand laughed coldly. Even Rhys in all his beauty, his eyes were now red from sobbing, his voice hoarse from how he had cried, and cried.

“Good job, Azriel,” Cassian said from the doorway, “You got what you wanted. Your bond will no longer exist once she awakes…that’s if she survives even.���

“No….I don’t,” Azriel muttered, “Rhysand…what conversation?” Rhysand furrowed his eyebrows, “Are you really playing this game with me now? My sister is DYING! AND YOU WANT TO PRETEND LIKE YOU FORGOT WHAT YOU SAID!?”

Azriel’s eyes looked back and forth between his brother’s….when did he…when did he even get here?

Where was his mate?

Why did it feel like something just cleared from his head?

That was when Elain stepped in, holding a mug and what looked to be tea.

“Azriel, i heard your distress, drink this it will make you feel better,” She said softly, but as Rhysand’s eyes narrowed on the mug, it was Cassian who snatched it out of her hands, brought it to his eyes and shattered it on the already ruined hard wood floors.

“That was not just tea.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

And as Cassian lifted his head he declared, “As General of the Night court, I arrest you for illegal possession and use of aphrodisiacs. You are charged with attempted murder of the Princess of the Night Court. You are charged with manipulation and forced betrayal of the court’s spymaster,” And with a menacing grin Cassian said, “And you are charged because you bloody annoy me and you…what you have done today makes me want to rip you to shreds.”

A beat passed.

“That is….” Cassian continued as he glanced at Azriel, with each blink clarity seemed to return to the shadowsinger as he processed everything, as he remembered everything Elain made him do, as he remembered how he had hurt his mate, “That is if Azriel decides he doesn’t want to kill you first.”

Elain let out a scoff, looking down at the spilled tea and broken pieces of ceramic in disgust, “Azriel loves me. Azriel should love me not that disgusting slut of a female, she might be a princess but she is-,” “Mine.” Azriel interrupted.

“She was mine before you interfered. She was mine before you made me break her.” Azriel turned, no doubt to go find Y/N.

“Start counting your days, Elain, because now they are numbered.”

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Azriel taglist: @kemillyfreitas @going-through-shit @chessebookgirl

Part 2 here!!

Love, Ellie.

[pseudowho]

Hanahaki

Nanami art by Osusiudon, picture edit by @pseudowho

Being in love with you was meant to feel good...so why was it killing Nanami Kento?

For more on the (purely fictional) Hanahaki Disease, please see here: https://fanlore.org/wiki/Hanahaki_Disease

I've altered things *just a little* to suit the story

Warnings: 18+, gore, smut, MDNI, unrequited love, angst, longing, hurt/comfort, cum as cure, TW anxiety, depression and low self-esteem

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"You've got to tell her. Nanami. You've got to tell--"

"--and burden her with this? No. It's inexcusable. This is...this is mine to bear."

Shoko stabbed her cigarette out with considerable force, driven almost to tears by this--

"--impossible man, Nanami Kento. You have options. We can fix this surgically, it won't be easy, but it will get rid of--"

"--my feelings for her," Kento interrupted, his voice brackish with pain, twisting in his lungs, all gnarls and knots and need. He felt the pain beginning to crescendo, doubled over on Shoko's surgery couch. If he groaned, he knew he would be choked in blossoms and blood. A fine mist of sweat collected on Kento's forehead, one arm wrapped around his belly as his lungs began to fill and burn.

Shoko was already lighting another cigarette, hands trembling, and snipped at Kento; "And what of it? She doesn't love you back, that's why you're in this mess."

Hearing the truth aloud was too much to bear, and Kento writhed, one strong hand gripping his throat as he coughed, choking, lungs and throat so full and packed and itching and--

--in one burning gasp, a congealed spatter of cherry blossom leaves and clotting blood left Kento's mouth at force, slapping into the surgery couch and dripping, viscous and sloppy, to the floor. Kento staggered, one knee collapsing, clinging to the couch as he retched and coughed, bent in miserable agony.

Shoko dragged on her cigarette, her back to Nanami, voice tight as she spoke; "So...you mean to die like this, then?"

Head swimming with blinding pain, feeling his lungs begin to fill again, Kento closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to the couch.

All he saw was you. Your smile, effervescent with joy. Your small touches to his arms, all just tactile innocence. Your laughter, ringing down corridors as the students lolloped out of your classroom. He thought of you and all you were and all you could be, with or without him.

Kento smiled, a bloody kiss at the corner of his lips.

"There are worse ways to die."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Kento wasn't sure what was worse; the excruciating pain rooted in his chest, spreading longer and deeper through his torso with each passing day...or the certain knowledge that you were in love with someone else.

It was inevitable, of course; he was exciting, extroverted; Kento was dour and introspective. He was powerful, the strongest; Kento may never surpass 1st Grade, let alone achieve a domain. He would fawn, simper, flatter; Kento loved quietly.

Kento was tense in the staffroom, the petals building in his lungs so much faster when you were near. He needed to leave, needing to hide this from you, but he was twisted with the exquisite double-edged sword of the need to hear your laughter and the need to escape.

Satoru bent over beside you, whispering in your ear as you giggled, slapping him on the arm. Kento felt a nasty, burning envy as your eyes twinkled up at Gojo. He had not realised his eyes had strayed from his newspaper until you looked behind yourself, your cheeks flushing faintly as you felt Kento's gaze on you, of course I'm interrupting a private moment, idiot Kento you fucking idiot--

"Ken--...Nanami, are you alright? You look...pale." The genuine concern in your voice, the kindness you treated Kento with even though he was an insufferable bore, far too morose for pleasant company, made Kento stiffen, his chin jutted outwards.

Satoru looked disappointed as you turned from him, heading over to Kento, reaching out to put a hand to his forehead and shit, I'm done for if she lays a finger on me--

Kento flicked a hand upwards, batting you away as you reached for him, shoulders bunched with the urgency that you should never know about this, it's not her fault, she deserves to be happy--

"I am fine. I'm a grown man, I'd prefer not to be coddled." Kento felt his vision blacken at the edges with the need to cough, chest clawing, drowning, and he stood to the tune of your feet stepping quickly backwards, stumbling against the coffee table and I can't catch her because then I'd have to touch her hold her look at her and I'll die she'll never be mine god I want her to be mine I want her--

Satoru stepped behind you, long pale hands on your shoulders, stabilising you and shooting a scolding look at Kento's fast retreating shoulders. Your eyes were downcast, lips curled in and pressed together, hands clasped and twisting.

"Don't worry about it," Kento heard Satoru reassure you as he stepped out of the staffroom, "he's always been pretty standoffish, you did nothing wrong."

Kento made it to the end of the corridor before wrenching open a window, leaning out, coughing bursts of blood-spray-blossom. He blacked out for a moment as he leaned against the frame, scarlet and petals at the side of his mouth.

She doesn't deserve this she doesn't deserve any of this why are you like this why are you so fucking unlikeable Nanami you piece of--

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Kento wasn't sure when it started...this obsession. It wasn't like him, to become so hyperfixated.

Was it when you started teaching at the school? You had baked, keen to make a good first impression. You had taken particular notice of Kento, your keen eyes astute and reading him, laughing such genuine laughter, the. laughing harder at the surprise on Kento's face that you found his sardonic fatalism funny, but nobody finds that funny--

Was it the love, the protection, the fierce defending shield you offered the children? It was beautiful. Kento saw your rage and your sickened rants at the diseased establishment and god I could listen to her all day she's wonderful what a mind what passion she needs someone with the authority to make her vision bloom not some low-ranked cannon fodder destined to die in battle--

Was it when he and you fought together for the first time? It was so easy. You were smart, there was no ego, no competition, so seamless together and suddenly the work felt so light instead of the fucking drudgery I normally go through and we've even got time for me to take her out for dinner maybe I should ask her out to dinner maybe she'll say yes but it's too soon and she's just being friendly and she'd feel so obliged she deserves so much better she's a hidden gem I can't be the only one to have noticed--

Kento wasn't, of course. He just wished it wasn't Gojo, of all people, to have taken notice. As much as I can't stand the guy I know he wants life to be better for the kids too so of course you'd appreciate him and he's sweet with the kids too and no woman has ever said no to him and I lost my chance I should have asked her out when I had the chance I should have asked you fucking coward Nanami you jealous little bitch--

Satoru made short work of occupying your lunch breaks. He was effusive, open in his adoration. Not shy in declaring his enthusiasm for you. Kento saw you trying to battle an enormous bouquet into your car, and you caught his eye, blushing at having been caught, looking so awkward. You had laughed, eyes downcast again as Kento offered you a gentle smile. You shrugged at Kento, unsure what to say.

"I should tell him, don't you think?"

Kento felt his heart sink at your admission, it's only natural she should confess to Satoru when he's welcomed her in with open arms he's made himself pretty clear it makes it easier for her in fact and god I'd just be happy if she's happy really I just wish it was me instead and--

"Yes," Kento said, tight and clipped, missing the way your shoulders dropped in resignation, "it's best to be honest about these things. I find it's less stress on everyone if nobody misreads the situation."

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat; "Yeah. We wouldn't...wouldn't want that." Your hand hovered over your door as Kento turned his back on you and what we could have had and that's dead and buried now so just walk away and you can get over it Nanami it's not like you deserved that anyway--

"Have...have a good evening, Ke--...Nanami. Stay safe."

You too stay safe I love you I love you and I swear to god if he ever hurts you I'll rend him limb from limb I'll make him wish he'd never been bor--

"Good evening."

Walking away had gutted Kento alive.

First came the blood. Then came the petals.

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Kento could not make his mission, the day after the staffroom. He could barely make it out of bed, waking, again, to petals and blood, rust-red and congealed all over his pillows. He changed the sheets again, gasping for air, passing out for a moment upon the mattress, with one hand in each corner of the sheets, exhausted.

This lovesickness, this diabolical sweet agony...was the best death Kento could possibly hope for. Sat on the shower floor, naked, chest heaving as the water tumbled over him, Kento scraped pink crumpled petals from the blocked shower drain as the water began to build up around him.

Lying on the sofa, in just his boxers, Kento shivered in pain. He could barely towel himself dry, and he knew he must stay this way, now, too weak to make it back to his room for clothes. Is today the day? Will they find me today? If I die god I haven't seen her I need to see her before I die even if she doesn't know I'd like to hear her laugh just one more--

The doorbell rang. Kento huffed, coughing a horrible clumped mess of petals and blood into an awaiting bowl. His breath caught, no oxygen making its way to his limbs and he folded like wet cardboard onto the sofa, gasping, fingers clawing at his chest.

A timid knock. A voice. The gentle swing of a hinge.

"Kento? I'm coming in. Ijichi gave me your spare-- oh my god-- Kento-- shit, I'm calling an ambulan--"

Kento reached towards the door as you ran to him, fuck Ijichi you had absolutely no right idiot now she knows she fucking knows--

Kento burned as you knelt by him, hands splayed across his chest, his back, eyes feverish as you stared at him. Stared at the bowl full of blood and--

"...blossom? Kento, is this-- what's happening to you? God, you need Shoko...Kento? Stay with me please, I can't lose you--"

"--it's none of your damn business, get your hands off me!"

Kento had snarled at you, face and hands contorted, clearly in agony. Your face crumpled, biting back a retort, keeping yourself calm despite the venom and gore spitting from him. You took a single deep breath, in...out.

"It is my business. I know you hate me. I know you can't stand me being near you, and I don't feel that way about you-- quite the opposite-- but it is my business when I find you dying alone at home, so if you can stop being such a stubborn prick for just five minutes, I can get you into the car and get you some help."

Kento was near tears, cornered, a feral, wounded animal. Hate you I don't hate you I just can't have your hands on me like this when it's all I'd ever get and I want to hold you day and night and--

"Fuck, you have no idea," Kento groaned, sniffing into his forearm, forehead pressed to the sofa. You blinked down at him once, then, face fixed firmly, you slung his arm over your shoulders, heaving him up.

"Nope. Probably not. But why would I? You don't tell me anything. And why should you?" You snipped, and Kento lurched against you, who somehow held him up against you despite his weight.

"Move. Now. I've got blankets in the car."

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Kento lay alone, in his hospital bed, drifting in and out of consciousness. The gentle hiss of oxygen from his mask kept him company.

You had asked him in the car, so many times, who his unrequited love was. He was steadfast in his silent refusal. You had read of this sordid disease, but never seen it in person. And on Nanami Kento, of all people, any woman loved by him would surely leap at the chance, I mean I would, if only he didn't fucking hate me, I'm not good enough for him anyway--

"Who is it, Shoko?" You whispered, holding yourself by the elbows as you leaned against an examination table. Watching Kento fade away before you through the little window, filled you with a thousand slivers of ice. His visceral dislike for you, his urgent need to push you away...no. You could not allow yourself to love him as you might have done.

Shoko frowned at you, trying to read you. She looked through the window, too, tapping her fingers on a clipboard in thought.

"You have no idea, do you?" Shoko mused aloud, soft, almost wistful.

You felt bile rise in your throat; "I don't need that from you, too, that's what he said. You don't have to treat me like I'm some fucking idiot--"

"You."

You faltered, your hand slipping off the examination couch you leaned back against. You looked up at Shoko, jaw dropped.

"...I--I'm sorry, what did you--"

"--you. It's you. He loves you."

You burst out laughing, a single harsh sound.

"Shoko. He can't stand me. Any time I'm near him, he just--"

"He just what? He clams up? Shuts you out? Doesn't let himself get any closer?" You nodded slowly at Shoko, still dumbfounded.

Shoko continued; "Nanami isn't the kind of guy to put himself first. Especially now he knows how Gojo feels about y--"

"Gojo?" You cried, fingers pressed to your temples, trying to hold back tears, "All this time I've thought I'm not good enough for Nanami-fucking-Kento, and he's held himself back because he thinks I want Gojo?"

Shoko paused, halfway to lighting her cigarette, drooping as her mouth dropped open. She looked to Kento, and back at you. Shoko pushed the cigarette back into its packet, tapping the box briskly on the table.

"You've got one chance to tell him," she snipped, "before I knock him out and take him for surgery."

Shoko moved to step out of the room, as you felt hope squirm in your belly. She gripped the doorframe as she moved to step out, white knuckled, not looking back at you.

"It won't go away until--...well. You do have to love him. Biblically."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

You would wait until you had dropped him into bed, you thought, hands tense on the steering wheel. You were lying to yourself, you knew, your admission ready to burst out of you in furious blooms.

Kento was silent beside you, coughing occasionally into a handkerchief, less and less stained with blood and blossoms now. He was ashamed of himself for looking so pathetic and at least I can just die at home in peace now.

It took everything you had to keep your eyes ahead, instead of on him, still dressed in nothing but boxers and a blanket. You swallowed thickly.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine." Terse, cold. You felt irritation bubble in your chest.

"Stop lying, Kento." He tensed beside you, at his name on your lips, so sweet, I could listen to it all night, I wonder what she'd sound like when she's calling it out around me--

Huffing, he turned to look out the window, "A little better. It's none of your concer--"

"I love you." Kento felt himself shoot through with warmth. The cloying petals in his chest began to shrivel. He was speechless, dark-circled eyes wide as he turned to stare at you. Your hands trembled, turning into the driveway, pulling the handbrake, switching off the engine.

"I always have. From the moment I met you, I knew. But you knew better apparently and you pushed me away and now you're so sick and I--I--"

You sniffled once, steeling yourself before stepping out of the car and round to Kento's door, opening it. You reached in, arms round Kento's chest and heaving him up, amazed at how strong you could be for him when he needed you. Kento did not fight. He remained placid, mussed, still smelling bed-soft and coppery as you moved him towards his door, unlocking it and taking him inside.

Kento had never felt so stupid. So ashamed. So unworthy. He had done this to himself, and for what? He replayed months and months of him and you, flashing like reels through his mind's eye, reframing all of your interactions, your discomfort with Gojo's advances, your pain at Kento's biting distance, you fucking idiot Kento this is all your fault like all the people you lose are your own fucking fault--

Kento felt himself dropped into bed, with no memory of the journey from doorway to bedroom. He looked up at you, truly looking at you for the first time in months, drinking in the soft acceptance in your eyes, how his pain mirrored in yours exactly.

You blinked first, a few tears slipping out as you stepped away, opening Kento's wardrobe and pulling out a shirt. Kento gulped, turning his head on the pillow as you began to undress.

"--don't do this just for me, you shouldn't feel obliged to stay--"

"Shut up. Idiot. You stupid, stupid man. I'm livid at you and I can do what I want, and you should shut up and do as you're told for once."

You could have insulted Kento until the moon waxed and waned a dozen times, and it would still have felt like falling into a bed of feathers, hearing nothing but I love you, Kento I love you, I always did, I love you Kento--

Kento's breath caught in his chest, still painful, but somehow easing, as he felt your weight settle into bed next to him. He tensed again, frozen to your warmth, for having held you at arms length for so long. You rolled, switching the lamp off. You faced him, in the dark. You could hear only the light rattling of his chest.

"Just let me stay. I...need to keep you safe. Even if I just watch you sleep."

Kento's face crumpled, teeth bared and gritted as he pulled a hand over his eyes. Gratefulness and relief stole away his voice. Quiet, nestled together in the dark, you heard the gentle susurrus of a hand sliding across the sheets. You jumped to feel the back of Kento's fingers brush across your belly, graze over your chest and down your arm, until your hand was plaited with his.

"Do you...do you mean it?" You pressed your eyes closed, so fragile from the weight of the day's admissions and revelations. Biting your lips with tears on your lash line, you nodded, Kento squeezing your hand, focused on your silhouette.

You remembered meeting Kento for the first time, the beautiful rush of gold in your vision, as you panned past his introversion and discovered treasure. You remembered reading his every move, the uncertainty of each other, the timid dance. You saw the questions in his eyes, never asked. You remembered his seeping coldness after the force of Gojo's overbearing affection. You remembered the distance, the sniping hatred-- only, it wasn't. It wasn't ever hatred. Just grief. Loneliness. Worthlessness.

Kento could only hold back his wretched coughing for so long, and you watched in horror as he forced himself onto all fours, back and chest rippling in agony as a burst of blossoms sputtered past his lips...only, less bloody now. Almost as if he was getting better but not quite--

Shoko's words came back to you, a ghost; "...you do have to love him. Biblically." You felt yourself shiver from shoulders to toes as you thought of Kento this way, taking you. All those nights, where you had tried to think of anyone but him, biting into the pillow as you fingers slid, wet and practiced, over your aching little bud. Only, for his voice, thoughts of him inside you, rooting through you, taking you over the edge into sweet oblivion...every time.

Loving him had become so involuntary, you thought, as he slumped into your arms, blond hair splayed across pink blossoms in the moonlight, exhausted. Despite his suffering, he looked ethereal like this, arm splayed above his downy soft hair, eyes feverish in the gloom. You felt this obsession grow, no longer pruned and restrained, now that you felt his urgent need for you.

Quaking, you lay yourself beside Kento, drawing your leg over him so your soft inner thigh rested on his groin. You felt him twitch, a little closeness only making his pain worse, the full weight of a fertile Spring wracking his lungs. Your fingertips grazed over his belly, and you felt him shudder beneath you.

"What--" Kento rasped, swallowing back the thick taste of blood, "...what are you...?" He stopped as you shushed him gently, one hand rested on his thick chest as you nosed the side of his neck, the shell of his ear.

"Let me help you." You felt Kento tremble beneath you, his hand coming up to clasp your thigh tighter over his groin. Kento overrode his desperation, shaking his head with a gulp, feeling pathetic and weak and she deserves so much better and--

"Not like this," he choked out, his chest heavy and cloying, "you deserve--"

"We've already wasted so much time, convinced we weren't good enough for each other. I deserve a life with you. And we can't do that if you're dead."

Kento broke, lost in the ecstasy of your soft kisses against his jaw, tongue flicking out to taste the soft sweat tang of him. Your fingers rose up to cup his face, turning him to you. The total certainty in your eyes as you leaned in to press your lips to his, made the air hit Kento's lungs with such blissful relief.

Kento felt bursts of strength with every scrap of love you gave him, enough to tangle his fingers into your hair, and swipe his tongue into your open mouth. Your little squeak of surprise ran through his belly, hot and needy, his cock throbbing in his boxers. Kento kissed you, hungry for relief, needing escalation as the petals began to clog his lungs again.

"Please, touch me," he begged, shameless in his wish to live, "--hurts--please..." Feeling his teeth nip into your lip, pushy and desperate, you allowed Kento to grasp your hand and trail it down over the honey-blond trail of hair on his belly, to cup over his rigid cock. He groaned with relief as you cupped his length, squeezing him until a drop of pre-cum seeped through the front of his boxers.

"--more, I-- I need more--" Kento twisted under your hand, squirming and prickling with the itching joy of your tongue tracing his ear, whispering soft reassurances as he moaned, bucking up into your hand, masturbating him through the fabric of his boxers.

You were mesmerised, obsessed with the effect you had on him. Your pussy throbbed, neglected, edging yourself by pleasuring Kento instead. You found yourself squeezing his cock harder, hungry for his panting breaths, his furrowed brow, the way his fingers clawed at you for release.

Climbing above him on the bed, straddling his hips, you slipped his boxers down and reached into his bedside drawer. His cock, heavy, thick, wet with pre-cum, settled on his belly, twitching as you released him. Your hand settled on a bottle of lube, filling your hand with this white, sticky, cum-like fluid, warming it on your palm.

Kento huffed, chest heaving again as he coughed, a spray of blossom landing on his chest and belly, sticking to the sweat misting his abs. You removed your underwear with your clean hand, resting your throbbing cunt on his balls. Ready to beg again, fingers sinking into the fat of your thighs with bruising force, Kento hissed as your lube-wet hand squeezed down the length of his cock, coating him in glossy slick.

The feeling of his cock, velvet-on-steel, thick in your hand, was a drug. Kento moaned, bucking up into the wet little plaps of your fist, as your hand stroked and squeezed the length of him. Kento felt himself squirm, head tossing and turning as he crumpled the pillow up in one strong forearm, biting into the fabric and blossoms there, frowning, moaning, gasping.

"--fffuuuck yes-- hnnng-- just like that, don't stop please don't stop--"

You leaned down, sinking your teeth into the broad plane of his pec, smiling in spite of the desperation of the situation. Your hand sped up, determined that the first time Kento spent himself, would be just that-- the first time. You would be his lover and his healer.

"I love you," you whispered against the rolling muscles of his chest, "I love you, and I'm staying, and I'll make you better again, I promise..."

Kento twitched, jerking with the force of the stimulation, his hand drifting to cup around yours, the other tugging the roots of his own hair. He moaned, long and stilted, writhing and begging.

"--god I love you-- your mouth, in your mouth please--cumming--"

Kento's seed spattered into your hand and across your tongue, your mouth not fast enough to reach his pulsing cock. Kento panted, short, twitching pants as he watched himself cum uncontrollably, his cum dripping down your cheeks, your eyelashes. Slowing down your strokes, squeezing the last drops of seed as Kento twitched and moaned, overstimulated, you were surprised to feel him remain hard in your hand.

With breathless grunts, and new colour in his cheeks, Kento reached down, pulling you on top of him, chest to chest as he held you, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your hair. You felt him grip you by the hips, slipping them downwards, your belly sliding on the cum dripping across his abdomen. Tilting your chin to look you up at him, Kento looked down at you, nose stroking against yours.

"...all this time?" He asked, so desperate for the reassurance. You nodded, feeling the tip of his cock at your entrance, straddling him so his cockhead pressed inside you.

"All this time...just crushing how I felt," you insisted. Kento was lost in the heat of your pussy clenching around his tip, bucking upwards involuntarily, begging to be invited in. Forehead pressed against his chest, his arms locked behind you, embracing you to him, you gasped as you rolled your hips, sinking him inside you, flush to your core.

You moaned, high-pitched and mewling. You felt yourself clenching, hot and wet around his twitching cock; you were not used to feeling so full, having abstained for so long, with no new suitor ever holding a candle to Kento. You felt Kento cough weakly, a smatter of shrivelled bloodless blossoms colouring your hair.

"--I've got you, I've got you--...shhh, I-- fuck you feel even better than I imagined-- I can't-- can't hold back, I'm--"

Kento's hips rolled up into you, both barely moving, entwined together in the soft silent dark. Belly pressed against his, Kento's cock curled hard against the front of your soft spongy walls, jolting insistently over the plush sensitive spot that made him feel belly-deep. Meeting his thrusts with your own, Kento growled out his sighs, chest rumbling beneath you.

"--worth it-- was all worth it for this...for you, I-- ...was so scared-- wanted to die in your bed-- so lonely--" Kento poured himself out to you, weakened and vulnerable inside you, his cockhead kissing your cervix as he kissed away the tears on your cheeks. The closer he got to his peak, the pain in his chest subsided, and he felt stronger, better, more alive than he had in months.

Kento rolled, flipping you over without warning, and knelt above you, grasping your hips so his cock stayed flush within you. Wrenching his pillow down the bed, he jammed it under the small of your back, panting, overtaken by something otherworldly as he stroked one hand down from your sternum to your mound.

"--selfish...I've been selfish," he berated himself, his long fingers slipping between your folds to find your throbbing little bud. You jolted, a high keening whimper leaving you as he rutted into your angled pussy, rolling your clit delicately between his forefinger and thumb. Kento glowered down at you, his eyes dark with lust, and you shivered under his cool gaze; suddenly, the man who had captured your heart all those months ago; "let's fix that, shall we?"

Kento wasn't sure how he summoned the strength to make love to you like this, his hips rolling with devastatingly slow precision, and you twisted beneath him, feeling every ridge of his bulbous tip as he watched where you were joined, pulling out almost completely before sliding all the way back, making you whimper and squirm.

"--together," Kento insisted, controlling your upcoming orgasm, his touches as accurate as your own fingers within yourself, reading you as you begged and moaned your way to orgasm. Kento fucked into you, hips stuttering, sweating and messy, desperate for you to cum so I can cum too and this whole fucking ordeal can be over god she's so gorgeous how did I get so lucky--

You trembled and whimpered, hands reached down and clutching Kento's thighs, feeling light as a petal on the wind as you came. Eyes closed, face relaxed with this heady, euphoric bliss, you swore you smelled the faint sweet-blossom-nectar of Spring wash over you, there and gone in the space between heartbeats.

Kento felt the weight of the world slip from his shoulders, suddenly whole and complete again, deep and emptying himself inside you with a shudder, your name on his lips; "--...so well--good girl, the best fucking medicine...thank you, thank you--"

Kento floated back down to earth, divine beneath the power being bestowed back into him. His chest cleared, supernatural by nature, his breaths now smooth and swelling. You stared up at him, eyes glazed, dazed by how you had moved him from death's door to demigod, in just minutes.

"I swear-- I promise you-- I'll be the best I can be for you-- the very best--"

"Idiot. You always were. You just...never saw yourself like I see you."

[uraveragelonelygay]

Lavender

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: Nature had always been your life. How fitting that it could now cause your death.

Warnings: angst (with a happy ending!), mentions of vomiting and blood.

a/n: Hello hello! This is perhaps definitely ass, but I really wanted to write for these two because I'm hopelessly in love with them both. Please enjoy!

Hanahaki Disease 花吐き病 (Japanese) is a fictional disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings, or when the victim dies. It can be cured through surgical removal, but when the infection is removed, the victim's romantic feelings for their love also disappear.

The natural world had always brought you peace. The softness of the grass under your feet, the gentle breeze blowing against your skin, the tender feeling of a flower blooming by your hand. You were a green witch, after all.

That was what had driven your family away. You had been 12 when you first sprouted a lily from your hand. You were more curious than scared; you had always sensed there was something that separated you from the rest of your family. Something about the earth’s treasures had always called to you. 

But even at your young age, you knew who you were living with. Sharing your abilities was a recipe for disaster; a sure fire way to have you outcast from your family.

So you did your best to keep your powers a secret, honing them in private, away from the watchful eye of your parents.

When you were 20, the inevitable happened. You were meant to be collecting berries for dinner when you had spotted a Willow Tree. It was worse for wear; you could feel it pleading for help as you approached it with a soft smile.

“It’s alright,” you soothed the tree as you gently placed your palms against the soil where its roots rested, “You’ll be alright.”

You closed your eyes, focusing on strengthening the roots as green magic pulsed out from your hands, through the soil, and into the tree itself, which began to heal instantly.

The snapping of a twig broke you out from your trance, turning your head to see your mother fleeing the scene. Your heart dropped as you quickly stood, moving to follow her.

She was too fast. By the time you had returned to your cabin, everyone and everything was gone. Your entire family had left you.

You fell to your knees in the middle of what was once your home, tears rolling down your face as you stared at the ground. Numb, broken, grieving.

You don’t know how long you stayed in that spot. You didn’t eat, you didn’t sleep, you just sat, staring, longing.

It wasn’t until a cold hand lifted your chin that you realized you weren’t alone anymore.

“Hello, darling,” a voice said softly, and you locked eyes with one of the most beautiful women you had ever seen. Her brown eyes were intoxicating, drawing you in. You tilted your head at her in confusion and intrigue. Who was she? What was she doing here?

“You’ve been sat here for a week, darling. No food, no water, no sleep. You’ll kill yourself if you keep up like this,” she said as she looked at you curiously.

Your eyes widened in realization. Death. 

She shook her head at you gently, sensing your fear. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m not taking you. It’s not your time,” she said, stroking your hair gently. 

“Thank you, Lady Death,” you stuttered out, in awe of her soft nature, directly contrasting the connotation of her very existence.

She smiled at you in response. “You can call me Rio, sweet girl.” 

There was a moment where you two merely looked at one another before she looked away, taking on a rather stern expression. “But I feel the need to tell you, sitting here and mourning your abandonment will only hurt you. It’s not your time. So don’t let it be. Get up, you’re coming with me.”

You stumble away from her in confusion. “I thought you weren’t taking me?”

She shook her head. “I’m not taking you to the afterlife. I am, however, taking you in. You’ll be staying with Agatha and I.”

You knew that name. You had read about it during your private studies.

“Agatha? Like…’The Witch Killer’ Agatha? That Agatha?” you asked cautiously.

Rio cackled, extending her hand to you.

You took it.

And so began the years you spent with Death and her lover, Agatha Harkness. The two women were vastly different to their reputations that had preceded them. Sure, they both had a fierceness to them. They had to, in order to survive their daily lives filled with corpses and taking souls.

But, with each other, they held such a softness. Rio often came back from a long day exhausted and drained. Death didn’t tend to be a fan favorite, and people made it evident, shouting at her and berating her as she escorted the souls of their loved ones to the afterlife. But Agatha greeted her at the door each evening with a hug, simply holding her for minutes on end, whispering sweet nothings in her ear as Rio visibly relaxed into her hold.

And Rio returned the favor, treating Agatha with a love full of tenderness and warmth. Comforting her after each nightmare, preventing her from overworking herself, giving her soft apology kisses after any arguments.

Before long, you knew almost everything about the pair. You learned about Agatha and her son, and his loss which nearly tore Agatha and Rio apart. How Agatha was only a ‘Witch Killer’ to keep Nicky alive as long as she could. How Rio held such anguish and guilt at having to take Nicky’s soul. How Agatha once held it against her but now loved her as fiercely as ever.

The two were made for each other, and though they welcomed you with a similar softness to that which they showed each other, you chalked it up to them taking pity on a girl who was abandoned by her family. You knew they could never love you like they loved each other.

But that didn’t stop you from falling for them. It happened subconsciously; you never meant for it to happen. But when your heart panged in longing at seeing Agatha and Rio curled up in each other’s arms in the living room, you knew it had happened. It panged even further as you looked down, noticing a red carnation that had bloomed in your palm against your will.

You were determined to ignore it. Surely you could enjoy their presence without focusing on the way your stomach flipped when Rio smiled at you, or how your heart seemed to triple in size whenever Agatha would stroke your hair in affectionate greeting. But what you had to do became evident one morning.

“We’re headed out for a bit, doll,” Agatha said as you sat at the table eating the breakfast she had made for you.

You nodded. “Okay! Don’t stay out too late, I’m making your favorite for dinner, Ags.”

She beamed at you, making butterflies flare up in your stomach so violently they made you uneasy. “You’re a gem. Isn’t she just?” She turned to Rio, squeezing her hand gently.

“Oh, yeah, she’s the sweetest,” Rio replied, winking at you as you feel your heart beat faster.

The two bid you a final farewell before leaving for the day. As soon as they left, you began to feel an uncomfortable itch in your throat. You furrowed your brows, attempting to clear your throat to ease the discomfort, but to no avail. Eventually you began coughing. It was a cough that made you feel sick, made you feel like something was really wrong.

And when you coughed into your palm and saw the petals of daffodils, your suspicions were confirmed.

You had heard of Hanahaki disease but had always believed it to be a myth. Your heart dropped at the realization that your love for these women was going to kill you.

You had to leave.

So you did. You packed up that day and left, traveling solo for centuries as you studied the disease you suffered from. 

Luckily, it impacted witches differently than humans. As your lifespan tended to be a lot longer, the disease was longer lasting; escalating at a slower pace before killing you altogether.

For the first hundred years, it had mostly been a consistent burning in your throat and coughing up various flower petals. Miserable, but bearable nonetheless.

After those hundred years, it began to escalate at a quicker pace as the flowers bloomed quicker and sharper. After 200 years of this disease, you were weaker than ever before. Coughing constantly, a never ending sensation of your insides burning, vomiting flower petals and blood.

Yes, there was the option of surgery, but you couldn’t bring yourself to allow that option to become a reality. You didn’t want to forget the love you held for Rio and Agatha. They had shown you kindness and softness like none other. You would die before you let yourself remove the memory of them from your very soul.

And you were getting close. You knew your time was running out.

And so, after another long day of slowly dying, you stared up at the sky, longing for your loves, even though you knew it could never be.

It was then that you felt yourself being sucked into the ground beneath you, and you let out a yelp at the shock.

Before you knew it, you were clawing your way out of the ground, now in a completely unfamiliar place. You were on a path in a strange, dystopian-looking forest. You could feel the magic buzzing around you as you pulled yourself up from the ground.

“Who is that?”

“I thought we already got a green witch?”

You heard a gasp and looked up to meet a pair of blue eyes you had longed for night after night for the past 200 years.

“Agatha,” you said quietly, tears welling in your eyes before you could stop them.

A familiar voice said your name and you shuddered at the sound.

“Rio.”

The two women stared at you and you stared back, unsure of what to say.

“So, are you gonna introduce us to the new girl, or…” a witch in a pink dress asked and you broke your intense stare-down to introduce yourself by name to the coven of witches. 

“I’m a green witch,” you explained.

“We’ve already got one,” a teenage boy said, pointing at Rio awkwardly.

You knew well and good that Rio wasn’t here as a green witch, she was here on work business, but you didn’t want to blow what seemed to be a cover, and you also didn’t have a damn clue where you were, so you played along.

“Well, you know summoning spells, you never know how many you’re gonna get…” you tried cautiously, still feeling the gaze of your former housemates burning into the side of your head.

“Y/N, a word?” Agatha finally asked, and you gulp before nodding and following her and Rio to a secluded part of the forest.

“Hey guys…what’s up?” you asked with an awkward smile, trying to ease the tension.

Rio narrowed her eyes at you, crossing her arms. “What’s up is that you up and left 200 years ago without so much as a word to either of us. Care to explain?”

You tried to look to Agatha for support, but she wouldn’t meet your eyes. Your stomach turned at the thought that you had upset these women you loved so deeply.

You took a deep breath, staring at the ground. “I had some business to attend to. I didn’t want either of you to get wrapped up in it.”

“Was your business ‘killing yourself?’ You look rough,” Rio said, a teasing smirk hiding her worry.

“Thanks,” you rolled your eyes, some tension releasing from your shoulders at the knowledge that Rio wasn’t angry enough to ignore you.

“You left without so much as saying goodbye,” Agatha said quietly. She sounded so hurt, and you couldn’t believe you had brought this on the pair, but you knew they deserved to love each other in peace, not be burdened at being the cause of your death.

“Ags, I’m really sorry, I should’ve said goodbye, I just-“ you were cut off as a violent coughing fit shook you, causing both women to raise their eyebrows at you.

You turned away from them as you coughed a plumeria flower out of your throat. You quickly slipped the flower into your pocket and wiped a bit of blood from the corner of your mouth before turning to face the two witches again.

The eyes on you were soft and concerned, but you shook your head at them, shutting down their questions before they even asked. “I’m fine, just a cough.”

Rio opened her mouth to protest when a witch sporting orange streaks in her hair interrupted.

“I’m sorry to get in the middle of whatever this reunion is, but I think it’s time for our next trial.”

You furrowed your brows. “Trial?” You began to realize that you had no idea where you actually were.

“Duh, we are on the Witches Road, after all!” The teenage boy exclaimed, leaving you even more confused.

The road isn’t real. You knew all about the song that Agatha had used to lure her victims in. 

“Wait, but-“ you stopped yourself from questioning any further when you saw Rio subtly shake her head at you, a silent plea to not reveal the truth of the road to the group.

You nodded in understanding, deciding to save your questions for later. “Alright, where’s the next trial?”

You looked up to see the group staring at something behind you. Agatha and Rio were particularly fascinated by it.

You turned around and your stomach dropped. You saw a cottage. It’s covered in vines and moss, making it appear worn down. But you thought it was beautiful. Perhaps that’s because it was yours. And Agatha’s. and Rio’s.

You looked at the path leading to the cottage. It was covered in flowers. You took a deep breath.

You just got here and already you were being given a trial.

As you and the rest of the coven approached the cottage, you couldn’t help but turn to the women you desire the most for comfort. 

Rio had an arm wrapped around Agatha’s waist, her thumb gently stroking the witch’s hip bone. Agatha looked up at her, smiling in gratitude, and Rio pressed a soft kiss to Agatha’s forehead.

Your stomach churned at the sight, and you felt bile rising in your throat. You painfully swallowed it back down, cringing at the effect it had on your throat, already raw from the thorns slowly tearing it to shreds.

“You good?” The witch in the pink dress asked, and you nodded.

“Yeah. Let’s just get this over with.”

The inside of the cottage looked just like you thought it would.

Home.

The same furniture, same pillows and blankets, same decor on the walls.

Your eyes filled with tears as you remembered all the time you had spent here with the women you loved more than anything.

“Doll,” a gentle voice said, and you turned to see Agatha looking at you softly. She approached you slowly, holding a hand out for you, but you took a step back.

“I’m fine,” you said, brushing your face and continuing to move through the house.

“This is new,” you heard Rio’s voice from the room resembling your bedroom. 

You entered and were greeted with a tapestry on your wall. It showed 5 flowers. Below the woven flowers was a message:

The words she never spoke will slowly begin to choke. For if they never cared, a life cannot be spared.

“It’s my life,” you breathed out, staring in horror at the plants on the tapestry.

Rio nodded, running her fingers along the tapestry as she identified the plants.

“Lily. Rebirth,” she began.

“The birth of your powers, the birth of you as a witch,” Agatha identified.

“Willow Tree. Loss.”

“The loss of your kin. Being abandoned by those you called family,” Agatha continued.

“Red Carnations. Deep, affectionate love.”

Agatha went silent at this, her brows furrowing.

“Daffodil. Unrequited love.”

Rio and Agatha were visibly shaken by this point. What hadn’t you told them? You were in love? With who?

Rio snapped her head to look at you upon seeing the last flower.

“Plumeria,” she said grimly.

Agatha’s eyes were wide. “What does that mean?” 

Rio only continued to look at you.

“Rio, what does that mean???”

Her question was answered as you began to cough violently again, the sheer force of it bringing you to your knees.

Agatha rushed over to you in a panic. She looked at the rest of the coven in terror. “What’s happening to her?” she cried as you began to choke.

“The words she never spoke will slowly begin to choke,” the teenager said.

“Hanahaki disease,” the witch in pink breathed out.

“What the hell is that?” Agatha was crying now, watching as petals and thorns made their way out of your mouth covered in blood.

“A disease that affects someone facing unrequited love,” Rio said in realization.

As she put the pieces together she knelt in front of you in an instant, anger coursing through her.

“You left because of this,” she said, her voice low, “You thought we didn’t love you, so you left?” she asked incredulously.

“Didn’t want—you to—-see me die,” you gasped out, fighting for air as you began to cough up more and more blood.

“You’re not dying, Y/N. I won’t take you,” Rio choked out, her sorrow getting the best of her. 

“Better this way,” you managed, and Agatha choked out a sob.

“It’s not, doll, we love you, we love you,” she cried helplessly.

The whole coven stood in shock. The two women they feared the most were in the most pain they had seen since they began to walk the road.

Both women hold you tight, desperately trying to convince you of their love.

Rio grabbed your face to look at her. “There’s a reason I took you in that day, mi vida,” she whispered as tears fell down her face, “I felt pulled to you. I knew you would be special to me. Aggie and I love you so much, please believe me.”

She leaned in and pressed her lips to yours, ignoring the blood and petals and thorns and focusing on you. Just you.

When she pulled away you gasped, finally able to gather air into your lungs.

Relief was visible throughout the entire coven. They had only just met you, but seeing how your existence being threatened had brought absolute devastation to two of the most intimidating women on earth had shaken them.

As you began to breathe again, you sagged against Agatha.

“You’re okay, doll, you’re okay now,” she assured you as she gently ran a hand through your hair.

The door to the cottage slammed open, and the rest of the coven took it as their cue to leave, giving you three a moment to recover.

As you laid against Agatha, you looked at Rio with tired eyes. “Sorry for getting blood on you,” you rasped, causing the woman to roll her eyes at you.

“You’re such an idiot, you know that?” She scolded before taking both of your hands in hers. “I. Love. You.”

Tears filled your eyes at her earnest confession. “I’m so sorry I ran,” you began, your body shaking, “I saw the love you had for each other, and how much you had healed each other, and I couldn’t hurt that. I didn’t want you to see me die. It wouldn’t have been your fault,” you said brokenly.

Agatha shushed you, kissing the top of your head. “You shouldn’t have run. It would’ve saved us all 200 years of agony,” she said, and you hang your head in guilt.

But then you felt a cold hand lifting your chin. And suddenly you were 20 years old again, looking into the eyes of Lady Death herself. 

But this time, instead of looking at you with curiosity, she looked at you with something much stronger. She looked at you with love.

“But we’ve got you back now,” she said, smiling tearfully at you, “so we’re taking you in. Is that okay?”

Your body wracked with sobs as you nodded, and both women were holding you in an instant. Your back was against Agatha’s front as her arms wrapped around your waist. Rio straddled you, her arms wrapping around your neck as she pulled you close.

And out of the cracked wooden floor of that cottage, something bloomed.

Lavender. Healing. Love.

[toanw]

alchepre civilian profiles! cure forms

[salsasprecure]

Cure Petals power up is done too!

re-visiting the Story Time power ups! starting with Cure Crown!

the power up is based on ice skating, so they all get skates, and their animal features get enhanced :)

[superbat-love]

Hanahaki AU. Clark visits Bruce Wayne's mansion for an interview and is immediately struck by the overwhelming presence of flowers, filling nearly every room. Upon closer inspection, he notices something disturbing—the petals are speckled with tiny traces of blood. Alarmed, Clark realizes Bruce is suffering from Hanahaki disease, a fatal condition caused by the pain of unrequited love.

Clark asks Bruce about it, and Bruce admits that he is in love with a superhero who could never return his feelings. However, Bruce doesn't disclose the identity of this person, leaving Clark to make his own assumptions. Clark unknowingly jumps to the conclusion that Bruce must be in love with Gotham’s mysterious vigilante, Batman.

This realization saddens Clark deeply. After all, he is secretly in love with Batman too. But despite his feelings, Clark can't sit idly by and allow Bruce to die from unrequited love. Determined to save him, Superman takes it upon himself to try and convince Batman to return Bruce’s feelings, hoping that it would stop the spread of the deadly flowers and cure Bruce.

However, before long, Clark begins to show symptoms of Hanahaki disease himself, the result of suppressing his own feelings for Batman. As his condition worsens, Batman starts noticing the telltale signs of the disease in Superman.

This seems to confirm Bruce's growing suspicion—that Superman is in love with Clark Kent, the reporter Bruce knows he's rumored to be close with. He resolves to help Superman and Clark be together, all while hiding his own love. After all, if Superman is trying to convince him to love someone else, it only affirms that his affections are not returned.

[obsesssedblerd]

I'm absolutely in love with your girl dad Sukuna.. Can you please make one with the birth of the baby please?🥺❤️

cw: mentions of childbirth but it's super brief

The Day She Arrives

The ringing in your ears and the pain coursing through every inch of your body has you overwhelmed. Your eyes are squeezed shut, your throat slightly burns from screaming, and you feel like no amount of breathing exercises will bring you down from this. You’re convinced you’re going to die.

A comforting, familiar warmth spreads through your body, and you feel a large hand gently cradle your face. Slowly, the pain fades until nothing remains but your fatigue. “Easy…” The low, deep timbre of your husband’s voice is the first thing to break through the ringing in your ears. You finally realize that Ryomen Sukuna was using his reverse cursed technique to cure you of your pain. “Focus on breathing, petal.” 

Right as you remember where you are—safely nestled in a dimly lit room with Sukuna and Uraume—the next sound to fill your ears is the wailing of a newborn baby. Your baby. You gasp, and the corner of Sukuna’s mouth lifts only slightly. “You did it,” he whispers, his thumb delicately stroking your cheek. 

Uraume stands up from in between your legs, softly smiling as they hand you your baby. “It’s a girl.” 

“A princess,” you croak, sniffling as you hold her against your chest with a wobbly smile. “I knew it.” 

Uraume leaves to prepare food for you and give you and Sukuna time to bond with the small girl. You lovingly whisper greetings to the newborn as you breastfeed her, obsessing over her features as tears of happiness stream down your cheeks. She’s beautiful. Beautiful and just so perfect. “Hi, my sweet girl. You’re so cute—I knew you’d be perfect the moment I found out you existed.” 

Sukuna is laying in the large bed next to you staring in awe, wondering how something could be so tiny. Even in his human form, he considered his daughter to be small. In his true form, he was convinced that she could fit in his hand. Plus, she looks so much like you. Her nose, her cheeks, the shape of her mouth is all you. You notice his staring, and then snort as you also notice your baby staring at him in return. 

“She’s got your eyes, Ryo.” 

“The brat has taken my eyes, yes,” he replies. 

You scoff. “I thought ‘brat’ was only reserved for your nephew.” 

“Yuuji Itadori is a brat. As are you,” he grumbles, then points at the cooing baby princess in your arms. “And her, too.” 

You roll his eyes at his antics, and you gently kiss your daughter’s cheek. “Hear that, sweetheart?” You whisper, quiet enough for her fragile ears, but still loud enough for Sukuna to hear. “He called you ‘brat,’ so that means he loves you.” 

The King of Curses is about to make a joke, but is stopped when you silently offer to hold the baby. He’s hesitant, because he doesn’t want to make the little girl cry on accident. However, he can’t resist the excited glimmer in your eyes, so he agrees. 

To his surprise, his daughter doesn’t cry when he holds her. Maybe it’s because she recognizes his cursed energy, or knows that he is her father after recognizing his voice from hearing him speak to her nearly every night while she was in your womb; but either way, the newborn peacefully falls asleep with him holding her. His eyes soften, and he silently vows to keep her and you safe. 

You exhaustedly rest your head against Sukuna’s shoulder, and the both of you watch your sleeping daughter. For a brief moment, Sukuna wishes to pause time, craving to live with you and the baby in the quiet, still and soft moment forever. 

So this is what it is like to love.

[fallingdownhell]

Hi it's me again 😅

Is it okay if I request something very specific and angry cause I'm bad at writing fanfics.

Well if it's okay could you do a Ayato x Reader

«Where Reader is in an arrangement marriage with Ayato but despite this fact she somehow ended up falling in love with him. But for Ayato the Marriage was nothing other than a political stunt. So when you get a sickness you keep it a secret from him until Thoma had a enough tells Ayato but before Ayato could rescue you, you had already succumbed the illness. And lay on the floor in your own pool of blood. That was the day Ayato regretted he's life decisions the most. Had he just listened to he's heart instead of his brain, just maybe you would have told him»

Is this too much to ask?

Of course! I'm so sorry I'm so late with your request. Still hope that it's what you imagined it to be. Pairing: Ayato x Reader Content: female reader; arranged marriage; unhappy marriage; Hanahaki AU; blood; major character death; unhappy ending (if I forgot to mention something, please tell me and I'll add it!) Word count: 2,1k words Requested by: @smaika Hope you enjoy<3

Catching your breath again, you stare down at the bloodied tissue in your hands, mind empty.

It's gotten even worse now. The petals, that were smeared with blood, were now also accompanied by a few thornes scattered here and there.

Now you knew where that scratchy and uncomfortable feeling in your throat came from, at least. It was those thornes, most likely.

With shaking hands, you grab the headboard of the bed, sitting down on the bed while you try to calm yourself down again. The coughing fit has gone by, but there was still blood dripping from your lips. At least you didn't stain the bed sheets, or it would probably have rosen suspicion from the housekeepers.

It has been a few weeks now since this whole thing has started. It began with just a general feeling of getting sick. Just some slight nausea and a sore throat, nothing to wrack your brain too hard about. But then the coughing started, and nothing, no medicine or whatever else you tried seemed to help against it.

And then the blood and flower petals came into the mix. When you coughed up the first red petal, you instantly realized what it was you were suffering through. Coincidentally, that was also the moment when Thoma walked in on you and figured it out, as well.

He had been worried sick about you, seeing as you didn't seem to get better at all. That day, he returned from the city with a new medicine he had planned on giving to you, but when he walked in and saw you, hunched over the sink in the bathroom, blood and bloodied petals in there, it didn't take him long to figure it out.

He was already halfway out the room, hellbent on telling the Master of the estate, and your husband. But you begged him not to, pleaded to him to keep it between the two of you.

Thoma did not understand your reasoning behind this request, but he saw the desperation behind your eyes, and he just couldn't bring himself to act against your wishes. Because no matter the professional relationship you two had, you were also friends. And he just couldn't betray a friend like that.

So he reluctantly agreed, promising you not to tell a word about this to Ayato. But that didn't mean that he wouldn't still go out and try to find a cure for you.

And here you were now, weak and sick, sitting on the bed you shared with your husband and contemplating how you got to this point in your life. But deep down, you already knew how this all came to be, and also, how this whole thing would end..

Your marriage with Ayato was by far not the happy fairytale you had always dreamed it would be. The arrangements of the marriage had been taken care of years prior, without any of you two having a say in it in the first place.

You did only get to meet Ayato a total of three times before you were married of to him. And despite all those facts, you couldn't bring yourself to mind it all that much. The Ayato you got to know over the course of those few meetings was a kind and gentle one, respectful of your wishes, although a bit too caught up in matters of work and politics.

It didn't take much for you to actually fall in love with him. A few nice words and compliments from him, a nice gesture there and you were head over heels for him. And then seeing how kindly he treated his staff and his sister only sealed the deal for you.

You couldn't wait to get married to him and recieving that same loving and respectful treatment from him as his wife, looking forward to the days that would be ahead of you, together with him by your side as your husband.

What you didn't expect however, was the complete turn he did one the marriage ceremony was dealt with.

Every time you tried to engage in conversation with him, trying to get to know your husband better, he would shut you down or just flat out ignore you. Every time you tried to touch him, even as innocent as laying a hand on his shoulder to get his attention, he would push you away from him.

You were attending social events with him, though he never held your hand and didn't bother to keep you around him. You slept in the same room together, in the same bed even, and he has never made a move on you even once this entire time.

Often times, he comes to bed long after you've already fallen asleep and is already awake again by the time you get up in the morning. At first you brushed it off as him being crowded with work, or even a bit shy about this new arrangement. However, since his behaviour towards you never changed, you couldn't help but begin to think that there was an actual intent behind it. Wether that was because he didn't like this marriage, or you specifically, you couldn't tell, because he wouldn't talk to you.

But you were certain that those events are what led you to your current situation at hand.

Hanahaki disease..

A disease stemming from unrequitted love towards another person. One that would kill the affected person if those feelings were not returned.

No one really knows how this disease came to be and there wasn't really much that could be done about it, either. Once affected with it, there were only really a few ways to handle this situation.

One. You could simply do nothing at all, but that would lead to your certain death.

Two. There were surgeries available, though these procedures are still very much experimental, and a huge side effect would be loosing any and all feelings towards the person that the affected one had feelings for in the first place.

Or three. You could tell Ayato about your predicament. But knowing him by now, he wouldn't care about it, which would only result in you nearing your end sooner.

You appreciated Thoma for going out there and trying to find some form of other cure, but you and him were both well aware that there wasn't any. He was reaching for solutions that just weren't there.

You had briefly considered the option of undergoing such an experimental surgery, but ultimately decided against it. It just didn't feel right to you, staying married to a man that you wouldn't feel anything for. No joy, happiness, sadness.. nothing. But, were you really ready to give your life for him...?

A moment later, your train of thoughts got interrupted by the opening door of your bedroom, a familiar blonde head poking through the opening. You looked at Thoma, who carefully entered the room and closed the door behind him, kneeling down in front of you.

He looked at the bloodied tissue in your hands, noticing the thornes mixed in there.

"It got worse..", were his quietly spoken words. You couldn't muster a respone, only a small, weak nod. Thoma then gently pulled the tissue from your graps, throwing it in the trash, before he returned to your side.

"I'll help you lay down. You need to rest, (Name)."

You just nodded again, not having the energy to argue with him right now. He helped you to lay down on the bed, a warm hand brushing over your forehead and almost immediately after that, you blacked out from pure exhaustion.

........

Thoma has had enough. He had no idea why you were so hellbent on not telling Ayato about your condition, but he couldn't take it anymore. Even if it meant breaking his promise to you, he could no longer just stand by and watch his friend wither away and die while he could do nothing about it.

If there was a chance that all this could be fixed, he just had to take the risk now. He's waited far too long already, the guilt eating away at him more and more with each passing day.

Quick, determined footsteps echoed from the halls as the blonde aimed for the office of the head master of the Yashiro commission, knowing that he usually locks himself in there the entire day to get his work done.

Out of pure politeness, Thoma still knocked, though he did not wait for an answer from his Lord this time around. Instead, he swiftly opened the door and entered the room, quickly closing the door behind him again as to not cause too much attention from the other staff.

Ayato, sitting at his table, hunched over many papers, did not even look up when the blonde went and stood right in front of the desk.

"Did something important come up, Thoma?", he asks, though the tone in his voice is void of any actual interest in his answer.

"Yes, my Lord. It's about (Name)."

At this, Ayato sighed heavily, dropping his pen and squinting his eyes, rubbing his temples like the topic brought him great pain.

"Look, I know what you want to say, but we've been over this. It was an arranged marriage that was mutually agreed upon by both our parents. Just because she's my wife does not mean-!"

"She's dying, Ayato!", Thoma interrupted him and that sentence quickly shut the Commissioner up. Would he not have been so shocked over the statement itself, he would have been shocked about the untypical rude behaviour displayed by Thoma right now.

"..What do you mean by that?", he asked instead after a few beats of pure silence, in which Ayato tried to comprehend what was just said to him.

"Exactly that. (Name) is dying if you don't get up and finally talk to them about everything. I know you like to tell yourself that you don't feel anything for her and that you're keeping her out of things, but you're just making it worse for her.

I.. I don't think she can make it much longer."

Ayato wanted to laugh. Surely, this was all just a cruel joke the both of you decided to play on him, maybe your newest strategie to get him to pay attention to you. But this is Thoma standing in front of him. He doesn't joke about this kind of stuff.

Realizing now how dire the situation must be, Ayato quickly got up and headed towards your shared bedroom, where Thoma told him you were resting at the moment. The sooner he got this all handled with, the better.

Soon after, he stood infront of the bedroom door, gently knocking on it. He didn't want to startle you in case you were still sleeping in there. When no response came, he gently slid the door open, only to freeze in shock because of the scene that played out in front of him.

There you were, laying on the floor, your body pale and almost lifeless, as a puddle of blood was next to your head, blood still dripping from your lips.

"(Name)!" Without even realizing what he was doing at first, Ayato rushed right over to your side, turning you to your back. When you didn't show any reaction however, he began shouting for help while tears began to form in his eyes..

This couldn't be happening..

Not like this...

He didn't even notice when Thoma and a bunch of other people, who had also heard his desperate shouting, entered the room. They were gathering around you, Thoma frantically dropping down and searching for a pulse from you.

And Ayato knew..

He knew that you were gone, even before he saw that sad look in Thoma's eyes and the slow, little, almost unnoticable shake of his head.

But... this had to have been just a dream, right? A nightmare, that he's going to wake up from soon.

Surely, this wasn't really happening... he couldn't just have lost you like this..

He thought he was doing the right thing by keeping you at a distance, keeping you out of the dangers that dealing with certain people does involve. He didn't want for you to corrupt like him, to stay your pure and unapologetically kind self.

To know now that this was the wrong decision, that he basically killed you himself...

He should have just induldged you, talked to you, treating you like he should have, like you really were his wife..

Maybe then all of this wouldn't have happened..

Maybe then, you'd still be alive right now...

But now it's too late. And all he could do right now, is to hold you in his arms, right here with Thoma, and mourn the way things went...

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

hysteria

kinktober, day twenty-eight

a/n: look, we already know that I'm a nerd when it comes to medical history, so this really shouldn't come as a surprise. only thing surprising about it is how fucking long it took for me to finally write this kinda fic, damn, because this fantasy is ancient.

summary: “miss, I’m afraid to inform you that you have hysteria.”

warnings: doctor!aleksander morozova x innocent!reader, smut, dubcon, historical au, medical kink, time accurate sexism, fingering, sex toys (vibrator, fuck machine), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, size kink, squirting, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, creampie, overstimulation

word count: 1607

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2023

Eyes glued to the clipboard in his hand, doctor Morozova quietly read up from the list of symptoms he had just scribbled down, “…unmarried, insomnia, increased nervousness during social interactions… miss,” he then lifted his obsidian gaze and told you gravely, “I’m afraid to inform you that you have hysteria.”

“I-I do?” 

“Yes, I’m terribly sorry,” he laid the papers down on the desk before him, “seems like your womb is not where it’s supposed to be and that can cause all sorts of problems as you can see by your symptoms.”

Fingers weaved so tightly in the fabric in your lap it nearly broke through, ruining your dress, your panic began to bubble out, “what should I do, doctor? Is there a cure?”

“There is,” he nodded, subtly raising a hand up to soothe your nerves, “the way to relieve this disorder is by causing something called a hysterical paroxysm,” he informed, abruptly redirecting his stare down upon the woodgrain of the tabletop, “now, usually, if a woman is married, the husband is to perform the treatment, but since you’re not,” his eyes flickered back up to find yours, “I’ll help rid your body of this ailment.”

“Really? Thank you,” you gasped, “what, uh, what does it entail?”

“Oh, it’s simple enough,” he waved a casual hand, “you just rid yourself of your undergarments and lay down on the exam table for me.”

“I-…” you blinked, eyes wide before you swallowed, “…alright…”

Getting up from the chair opposing his desk, you walked around the flimsy partition set up in the corner. Reaching under your dress, you timidly pulled your underwear down your legs, past your stockings and off. Folding the garment in a neat little bundle, you settled it on the small stool that stood back here before stepping back out from behind the cover. 

Now settled at the bottom of the exam table on a seat, he gestured for you to get up onto the slab before you apprehensively did so. 

“If you would please just put your feet up in these stirrups,” he adjusted the metal legs below you, “then we can get started.” 

As you then shifted, settling your feet into place, your skirts tented and began to ride up, a gust of crisp air kissing your exposed centre and causing your cheeks to heat up.  

Hearing his chair scoot closer, you then felt his touch softly ghost from your knees all the way up your thighs till his fingers were gently prying your petals apart. After taking a good look, he then briefly retracted his touch, unscrewing a nearby dark glass jar, swiping up some of the glossy contents before grazing through your folds once more, the cool temperature of the lubrication causing you to suck in a sharp breath. 

“Sorry, if it’s a bit cold,” he murmured as he continued to smear it in. 

Head faintly shaking, “it’s fine,” you tried just to focus on your breathing. 

Pushing your dress a bit more out of the way, he told you, “just try and relax for me, it will go by a lot smoother if you relax,” his touch then suddenly changed, “now, tell me,” zeroing in and pressing down on your clit in a way that made the office around you go fuzzy, “how does that feel?” 

Blinking down at him, you found that his vision was already firm on you, “I-… I don’t know… how is it supposed to feel?”

“It’s supposed to feel good,” he rubbed a bit harder, “so, does it feel good?”

“I-I guess so,” your vision fluttered back up towards the ceiling, the doctor’s dark eyes being too much to stand, “yeah.”

“Good, good,” his attentive touch then shifted, “now let me just have a feel inside. Deep breath for me,” your lungs expanded at his command, “there you go,” and his long finger pressed inside, gently curving it around against your walls as he examined, “yep, there it is… your womb, it’s in the completely wrong spot,” he swiftly worked another digit in, watching as you stretched around his fingers, “it’s good that you came in now before it got even worse,” pulling back out, he ended the contact with an unnecessary rub against your buzzing clit.

As he then scooted a bulky and mysterious machine over, you asked nervously, “w-what is that?”

“Just a little apparatus that’s gonna help cure you,” he twisted a vaguely phallic shape into place at the end of the device’s long arm. After noticing your startled expression, you felt his warm hand sprawl across your thigh, “don’t worry, love. It’s all gonna be just fine,” lining it up, “just try and lay still,” he turned a switch and the attachment slowly drove into you. 

“Oh my god!” your palm slammed down against the exam table. 

“Shh, it’s alright,” he caught your eye till your body slowly began to give in, calming under his gaze. Reaching his right hand up, he tickled your puff as the gadget slowly eased in and out of you, “you’re doing great so far, just relax for me,” you saw his free fingers sneak down to enclose around the apparatus’s knob once more, turning the speed further up.  

Feeling like you might fall off the table entirely, you panted, “doctor, I think something might be wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong, love,” he nearly chuckled, “this is how it’s supposed to feel,” smiling as you let go an uncontainable moan, knees nearly closing as you tumbled over the edge, “there it is, good, good…”

Expecting for the machine to be shut off, the doctor instead pushed your trembling knees aside and conjured a bulky ward-like device that buzzed in his tight grip, the other hand firm on your leg as he pressed the vibrator against your sensitive pearl, “ah! Doctor! What are you-”

“We’re not done yet,” he stated firmly, vision fixated on the mess he was turning you into. 

The squelching of your pussy cut through the loud buzzing of the gizmos, “but it’s too much, I can’t-”

“You wanna get better, don’t you?”

Fists tight in your dress, crumbled at your waist, you let out a shaky, “yes.”

“Then quit your whining and let me treat you,” his stare snapped up as he warned you, “if you keep that up then I’ll have no other choice but to restrain you, is that what you want?”

“N-no,” the overwhelming sensation caused you to tremble like a leaf. 

“Be a good girl and take it.”

When the second wave hit, it crashed into you so fiercely that you let out a lewd scream. 

“There you go, that’s it!” the doctor bellowed as your pussy gushed, crying out around the intense toys, “oh, fuck…” unable to peel his eyes away as he finally turned off the machines, additional juices squirting out as they withdrew. 

Limbs twitching, you hazily asked, “was that it? Are we done?”

Palming himself through his pants, his gaze stayed glued to your weeping core, “not quite yet, miss… that release of excess fluids was a very good sign, very good sign indeed, but we’re not quite done… there’s still more that needs to get out in order for your uterus to align itself again,” your eyes then flicked down to his fingers as they worked at the buttons on his slacks, swiftly freeing something much bigger than the apparatus he had just fucked you with. 

“Doctor?” your eyes grew as he stepped closer, rubbing his tip against you in a way that made your eyes flutter. 

Finally meeting your gaze, he uttered, “please, call me Aleksander,” before thrusting his hips forward, stretching you apart with his cock. Fingers digging into your thighs, he glanced back down and smirked, “I think your womb just needs a little reminder of where its home is,” before he slammed in, all the way, pushing the air out of your lungs as his balls nuzzled against you.

“Ah!”

“Just need to knock at its door a bit to call it home,” the tip of his generous length kissed your cervix with every rough thrust, borderline going too deep as you clambered around him, “that’s it, taking the treatment so well.”

Just as you had thought he had settled on a rhythm, he pulled the rug out from under you by suddenly withdrawing his girth entirely, spreading you apart so that he could watch how he made you gape, only to bury himself completely once again, repeating the cycle over and over, relishing in the way it drove you up the wall. 

“Fucking hell… I can feel it, you’re getting close, clamping around me like a desperate little whore,” he groaned, watching as after a few more breath-taking rounds, your pussy began to weep once again, “oh, there it is,” squirting out every time he retraced himself, “atta girl,” the fullness he then granted you only persuaded more to appear. 

When you were nothing more than a literal puddle in his grasp, Aleksander truly lost control, pounding into your trembling mess before he made it even more so, stuffing you full of his hot cum. 

Low groans still flowed from his lips as he retracted from you for good, the sensation of his seed trickling out of you and onto the exam table nearly going unnoticed from how exhausted the treatment had made you. 

“Was that it?” you asked weakly, “am I cured now?”

Tugging himself away as he caught his breath, he answered, “not completely,” glancing back up at you with a glint in his dark eyes, “I think you’re gonna have to come back a few more times …”

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[quasieli]

[Image description: Eight pages from the comic Mighty Nein Origins: Caduceus Clay. The first six pages feature a young Caduceus and his mother, Constance, while the last two pages show an older Caduceus, as well as his father, Cornelius, and sister, Clarabelle.

Page 1: A wide shot of the Blooming Grove, with a beautiful stone and wood temple sat at the center of a verdant cemetery. From afar, Constance calls outs "Caduceus!"

Page 2: Constance is stood behind her son, with his head only partially in frame. The first panel shows her saying, "There you are, didn't you hear me calling?" In the second panel, she is leaning down to her son, a concerned look on her face as she says "Oh."

Page 3: A smaller panel shows Caduceus cupping a dead bird in his hands, holding it tenderly. The wider panel then shows his mother sitting down beside him, the pair sat next to a head stone. He leans his head into her shoulder as she asks, "Would you like some help?" The pair then proceed ro bury the bird.

Page 4: Constance and Caduceus are kneeling in the dirt, over the bird's burial spot. Constance asks, "Ready?, with Caduceus responding "Mh-hmm." The pair touch the ground where the bird was buried, and soon a bright orange flower magically blooms from the spot, causing Caduceus to startle.

Page 5: Constance sits beside her son, her hand gentle touching his face as she says, "Death and decay are a part of a circle, a wheel turning without a beginning or end. Death is how we nurture life, Caduceus." He looks down at the flower as he asks, "Then how comes it hurts?" Caduceus lays down in his mother's arms as she explains, "Because you loved them." A smaller panel shows a closer shot of their faces as she asks, "Do you regret that love?"

Page 6: A small panel shows a closeup shot of Caduceus, looking sad as he replies "No." Another wide shot of the Grove is shown, with the pair sat at the center, Constance continuing, "Part of love is knowing they will go, and cherishing them with your whole heart in the face of that hurt." Another small panel shows a closeup of the newly bloomed flower, with some of its loose petal blowing into the wind.

Page 7: An interior shot, a number of years in the future, showing an adult Caduceus asleep in his flower filled bedroom. He wakes upon hearing the voices of his father and sister, who are in another room, getting up to go investigate. His sister says "I just don't think it's fair that --", Cornelius interjects, "Clarabelle, please keep your voice down."

Page 8: Caduceus comes down the stairs tiredly rubbing his eyes while his father and sister continue to argue. Clarabelle says, "I will not until you--", cutting herself off as she sees her brother appear. Cornelius moves to ready some gear as Caduceus asks "You're leaving?" He responds "The corruption isn't going away on its own. Maybe... maybe your mother found something out there. I'll find her and your aunt, and find a cure." Clarabelle steps forward, declaring "It should be my turn! I'm old enough and faster than you, anyway!" To which Cornelius responds, as he begins to depart, "Clarabelle Clay, mind yourself. Stay home with your brother." End description.]

Sneak preview of Caduceus's origin comic from Polygon!

Generations of the Clay family have tended to the careful rituals in the Blooming Grove. But when corruption begins to creep in on their sacred space, the Clays depart one by one to seek answers. Soon young Caduceus and Clarabelle are the only ones left, and when a dangerous burial quest falls to Caduceus, he must leave the Grove to do the family’s work.

[insert-this-fire]

Overpoweringly Sweet

Logan Howlett aka Wolverine x gn!nonspecified mutant! Reader

Summary: Somehow you contracted Hanahaki for a man you hardly ever spoken to. Cant end well can it?

W/C: ~9k Warnings: a little OOC, angst, graphic description of coughing up flowers with blood.

AO3 Mirror A/N: I never post actual fics on tumblr but I feel that it needs to be done here. So sorry if its kinda formatted weird? it will also be on AO3!. First x-men fic too so sorry if its a bit ooc. Not really based on any specific iteration of Wolverine. Also not edited like, at all. Also I take requests! :3

~~ :3 ~~

You know, having a crush on someone so unattainable is laughable at best. Having a crush on them and apparently somehow contracting Hanahaki is even worse. How does that even happen? You haven’t even spoken to the guy more than a few words. Too embarrassed to open your mouth to introduce yourself and you work together. Yet here you are, petals on the bathroom floor and a constricting feeling in your throat. Your head lying on the back of the stall door. Still heaving from the sudden onslaught of overly sickly floral-scented petals that spilled out.

Gardenias. Pure white and mocking. 

The smell of them made you nauseous. The sight of them even more so. After looking up what they meant. It just made things even worse.

Secret love. How fitting.

It’s a damn crush, and the world decided it was love. Love for a grumpy ass old man with hair that kinda made you think of a cat. Actually, he reminded you of a cat in general. One that you want to rest your face on and fall asleep. Bury your face in those pecs of his. Muscles may look hard, but they do have a bit of squish. By God, does he have muscles. You’ve caught him shirtless a few times. All by accident, of course. You weren’t a pervert. Anytime you think of it, your jaw clenches tight.

Ah, getting off-topic here. Back to the fact that apparently, hanahaki doesn’t care if you’ve ever talked to someone before.

The stall door was cool against your cheek when you turned your head, and it was less gross than hugging the toilet like you wanted to so you could flush the flowers down the drain. It was terrible. The petals surround you, and a single full bloom floats mockingly in the toilet.

You know how to cure it. The moment that the flower petals started to spill from your lips, you desperately looked for what it was. It wasn’t that hard to find, apparently some find it sickeningly romantic. Bet they never had to deal with the ache that was constant around your lungs. You found the cure for it as well. Should be easy to do, right? Tell the person how you feel and they return it, or get it surgically removed. The surgery should be the right choice. It’s the only choice. You’ve hardly spoken to the man who coveted your affection, but the thought of not feeling the tug of your heart when you see him was too much to bear. Which makes no sense! It’s a dumb crush.

God, you’re an idiot.

A deep breath fills your lungs slightly, and the pain wraps around your chest as you try to get a full breath. Your hands find purchase on the rim of the toilet, and you push yourself up. Now, on two shaky legs, you wipe your mouth. You need to clean up the petals before anyone comes in. It was still the middle of the day, and classes were still going. Thank God the coughing fit didn’t hit you till lunch, or you would have to explain to a classroom full of students. That would be embarrassing. Yeah sorry class, your teacher is in love with someone they can’t have, let’s continue with the lesson now! Embarrassing.

Your hands start to pick up the petals. Each one feels as if it was searing into your skin. One, two, five, ten, thirty. Thirty petals and one full bloom. You were screwed. You could go to Hank. See if he knew any other way around it, any way to fix the disgusting flowers that took root in your lungs. Maybe being a mutant changed how to cure the disease? That was just hopeful thinking, though.

After mulling over the choices for a few moments more, you finally unlock the stall door and walk over to the garbage, quickly discarding the petals that did not make it into the toilet.

Your feet then carry you out of the bathroom and, as luck would have it, right into the chest of the one person you did not want to face yet.

Logan.

You were right, though. The muscles on his chest were squishy. God you want to just motorboat him real fast. Would that be weird? Yeah it would be. As quickly as you ran into him, you tried to remove yourself from his personal space. You know the guy wasn’t too fond of touch. You think. You actually… don’t know. Words quickly spill from your mouth as you try to apologize. “Sorry, sorry. Didn’t see you.”

Logan just makes some gruff-sounding noise and continues on his way. You could faintly see as he walked away scrunching of his nose. He was probably able to smell the faint floral scent that was clinging to you. It probably wasn’t pleasant. You didn’t like the scent, it probably was a lot stronger on his end.

As you stand in the hallway after the sudden bump into your crush, you place your hand on your chest to calm your beating heart, and you walk in the opposite direction to your classroom. It hurt that he didn’t even say anything back to your apology, but that seemed pretty in character. To you, at least. If you were on friendlier terms, maybe not, but you doubt he even knows your name.

The thought of the surgery resurfaces in your head. Maybe you should get it. Ignore the deep-seated pain in your heart at the thought of losing your feelings for him. However, the repercussions of a botched removal is another reason not to do so. It could remove the feeling of ever being in love again. Would that be so bad though?

You shake your head. You have a class you have to get back to… and a phone call to make.

The day continued on like normal after that. Classes, grading papers, discreetly removing petals from your mouth into the trashcan by your desk as you graded papers. A new norm for you. It did seem that a few students had noticed a slight change in you. In fact, one of them even got you a get well soon card. Sweet, but it left a bitter taste in your mouth.

If you don’t get better soon, you will probably end up another statistic for the disease. How many people were there that had it and perished as the roots wrapped around the lungs and slowly filled the valves on the heart. Too many, probably. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at that. That’s why you were now sitting in your now empty classroom, making a phone call. You had found a number to a doctor who specializes in the disease. You would get some advice and decide from there what you want to do.

The phone rings, once, twice….

“Hello, this is Dr. Forrest’s office. How may I help you?” How fitting a doctor who knows about Hanahaki has a nature-based last name.

You quickly introduce yourself and ask if you could speak to him or schedule an appointment. Apparently the only way to talk to him is with an appointment. The next one isn’t for a few months. You don’t even know if you’ll last that long. You’ve been keeping track. A full bloom appeared today. A singular full bloom, no steam. The petals were loose so it had to be in the early start of the mid stages. It was taking its time infecting you. It must be due to not seeing Logan all the time.

You do tend to avoid him when you can. The thought of seeing him always makes your cheeks burn. Man was just too hot. It made it seem like you were in love with just his looks! You weren’t. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be coughing up all these petals. You’re pretty sure it wasn’t just his looks. The flower has a meaning, after all.

Maybe if you avoid Logan, actually stop trying to see if you can see him across the halls. Stop looking for him during dining hours. Just try to ignore him. Though unless he was going to go on one of those sudden long vanishing acts. Well, you doubt that you actually will be able to avoid him enough to live till the next appointment. You really are screwed. Shit.

Running a hand over your face with a groan you lean back in the chair behind your desk. What should you do? The surgery now seemed to be out of the question. So now you either confess and die, or you just die. Which definitely was not the ideal thing to do. You were screwed. Hands down. Your name is on the death warrant the moment the receptionist said months. Maybe you should go to Hank. Dude was a certified genius right? He would know something.

A knock at your door made you jump. Quickly you lift your head and look over to the closed door to your classroom. Could be a student, another faculty member? Whoever it was either needed you or the room.

“Come on in.”

Silence followed and then the door opened up. Your gaze turns to the door, ready to answer whatever questions that are going to follow. Till you hear the tall tale sound of boots, heavy. The sound of jeans rubbing against legs. A jacket rustling slightly from movement. Jeez, why are you suddenly so aware of the sounds?

Your eyes hone in on the man you’ve been thinking about. Logan. Twice. TWICE in one day you’ve seen him up close. See him in your space. He never seeks you out. You never get to see him up close like this more than once or twice a week. It’s like you’re in a fanfiction and someone is pushing the two of you together.

That’s silly though, this was real life.

“Oh, Logan. How can I… help you?” Could you sound any more awkward? You want to bang your head on your desk. Especially with how he was just looking at you. Should you have called him Wolverine? Mr. Howlett?

“You need to let up on that perfume you’re wearing. Can smell it all over the hall.” His face gives away the fact he smells something he doesn’t like. 

Perfume?... Perfume… The flowers. Of course he could smell it. The floral scent has been clinging to you since the first petals slipped from between your lips.

“Oh, heh sorry. I’ll try to use less of it.” You just laugh a bit, still feeling a tad bit uncomfortable, the sudden tickle in your throat reminding you that you could not stop the smell from permeating your skin. That it will linger on you till you no longer have these flowers growing inside of your chest. “If I use too much again I’m sorry. Can’t really tell when I use too much or not.”

Blue eyes narrow at you, you can tell he doesn’t believe you. That he should call you out on it. “Thanks bub, it’s masking everything else.”

With that he left the room as quickly as he came, there was a slight pause and you can tell he glanced at the trash can by your desk. The trash can that had a few petals thrown in haphazardly. Thought to be hidden by the papers that you threw on top. You hope that is all he sees.

That was such an awkward interaction. You slam your head on the desk once more. God why are you such an idiot.

~~ :3c ~~

Time continues on like normal, but recently you catch Logan at the corner of your eye. Which is normal, you usually do seek him out. Yet now it’s like he is everywhere you go. Walking in the gardens, he’s out there smoking one of his cigars leaning on a tree or the wall of the mansion. You’d be eating and you’d see him a table or two away, his eyes on you. You can feel them boring into your skin. You’ll be walking in the hallways and see him turning a corner before you fully spot him. More often than not you find him outside of the bathroom you were just in after coughing up a storm. Just standing by the door like a guard dog. Always scrunching his nose when the door opens and the aroma of flowers follows you out.

He knew. He had to. He had to know something was wrong with you. There is no way he doesn’t. The man has been alive long enough that he probably knows the signs of what you have. The disease that is currently ruining your life. He has probably seen all sorts of people who have had Hanahaki. You won’t be the first, nor the last person he has seen inflicted with it either. It’s probably why he’s keeping an eye on you. He must have found out when he came to ask you to stop using so much perfume and yet you still smell that sickeningly floral smell on you.

Unless you’re just suddenly more aware of him than you were before. Which you shouldn’t be. You were already highly aware of him due to your damn dumb crush that’s killing you. Eyes are always lingering on him.

It’s probably because of the scent that’s following you around. It is probably sticking out more than your usual scent, which was. You don’t know. What do you normally smell like? Apparently, it’s something non-distinct since the new smell is pretty overpowering. If you can smell it, it must be strong.

You wish you knew what was going through the man’s head. You couldn’t really ask him. You aren’t close to him like that. Can’t ask the people he is close to either because you aren’t close to them. You kinda just, are here in the mansion teaching. You’re not a part of x-men, you aren’t too interested in fighting anyways. You earned your keep teaching. You are vaguely close to Hank though. Well, in recent events at least. You could ask him?

Yeah, no, you aren’t. You’re going to suffer through this. You can handle it. You don’t need to know what’s going on in his mind.

Which reminds you, you need to actually go talk to Hank. You’ve been putting it off, but the full blooms are startling. Every other coughing fit brings one full bloom. It has only been a week since the first bloom and with the sudden influx of Logan sightings, it is speeding up. You needed an out and fast. Before it kills you.

Thus here you are walking through the mansion to head down to his lab. Quickly avoiding anyone you see. The scent of flowers following you through the halls like a wraith. Leaving a trail of sweetness to waft into the air. Disgusting.

As you make your way into the lab you spot Hank, or Beast? Shit, you don’t even know which one he prefers to be called. You really should ask, huh. Anyway, you spot him.

When the blue-furred man spots you, he quickly greets you with your name: “It is good to see you this fine evening. What do I owe the pleasure? It is not often I see you down here.”

If you could, you would sigh deeply. The rattling of vines stops the motion before it begins. “Hi yeah uh. I got into a delicate situation and I don’t know who else to go to? The doctor I had called can’t really see me and I don’t know what else to do and you’re like… The smartest person I know so I’m hoping… you could help?” The words spill out quickly.

Hank raises an eyebrow and fixes the glasses perched on his face. The man was upside down for some odd reason, and he quickly flipped to land on the ground. With grace you don’t expect for someone his size. Then again, you’ve seen some weird ass mutations. He motions for you to sit down on one of the beds stationed in the lab. One used when needed for situations like this. Medical, scientific, not something you can throw a punch at and fix.

After sitting down on the bed, you start to explain. Words flowing like a waterfall. He is the first person you have gone into detail about your condition. How the petals slip from your lips like a poison, the tightening of your chest with each breath. The fear of losing yourself to unrequited love and dying because of it. You do not mention who it is directed at nor the fact you thought it was a crush and did not deserve to have evolved into such a disease.

The room fell silent after your reveal, a silence that stretched on longer than you would have liked. God, you hope he has an idea about how to help you out of this mess.

“From my knowledge there are only two cures. I assume you already know.” A pause as you answer with a curt nod. “I do not believe there are any other alternatives other than what has been proven to work. I assume that you are here to find out if there are any or that you require the surgery.”

“I can’t tell them… I really had hoped that you would know. I don’t.” You sigh and run a hand through your hair, messing it up slightly. It was already a mess from earlier, but you know how hands are in hair. “It’s not an option to tell them.”

“I see. It will take some time, but I will see if I can learn the correct procedure so that there will be minimal to no complications.” Hank pats you on the shoulder and motions for you to head out. He had some things to do and research to go over. Escorting you out of his lab so Hank may do what is necessary. He didn’t give a timeline, but you trust that he can do it before your time is up.

You really hope that he can do this.

After leaving the lab, you had to pass some of the other faculty. Or X-men? Yeah, it seems they are setting off on a mission of some sort. You pass Cyclops, Storm, Jean and. Yeah, that is exactly who you don’t want to see right now. Logan. Seems he is going with them. To, wherever they have to go. You give them all a small nod in acknowledgment as you pass them. Each one provides you a small smile or nods back.

Logan though? He pauses when you pass him. His face contorted into something you weren’t too sure of. He probably caught another whiff of the flowers on you. Great. The others give him a look and he just grunts at them. Somehow they understand and continue on their way. Leaving you with Logan.

A hand grabs your bicep, fingers wrapping around the muscle. Your gaze drops to the hand, in another life you were sure it would be rough with use, but it was surprisingly soft. The grip was not, natural strength hidden behind the hold. A promise that you would not be able to pull away without exerting yourself.

“You’re smellin’ worse. Thought I told you to let up.” A gruff voice, oh how you want to roll in that voice. That was a weird thought, you should probably stop thinking of that like a weirdo. God are you a weirdo?

An awkward laugh bubbles up from your chest. You can feel your own muscles tense under his hold and gaze. Damn he’s never looked at you like this before. A slight glare, crinckled nose, and a slight snarl on his lips. You must be really weird because damn was that kind of a hot look. Which somehow in turn makes your chest tighten and the tickle of a cough is trying to break free. You swallow hard to bite it back. Yet you can feel the petals moving through your throat. 

“Sorry sorry, I guess I overdid it?” You pull your eyes away from his. Unable to continue to look at his face. Be it from your weird thoughts, the tickle in your throat or your inability to keep eye contact with someone. “I swear I’m not doing it on purpose.”

“You’re hiding that you're sick.” The grip on your arm tightens. Not in a painful manner no, but a reminder that you cannot run away from this conversation. Which is odd right? Why does Logan care? You two hardly know each other. Sure you apparently love the man, but you’re still sure he doesn’t even know your name. You’ve seen him care for others in the mansion, a good friend in an odd way. A father figure and mentor to some of the students. Also in a weird way. You’re sure he’d brush off that idea and say he isn’t. He is.

Wait, he just said you’re sick… “I’m not sick?” 

Logan's eyes narrow as he stares at you. Do you look sick? Sure you’ve gotten a little pale and eating has gotten a little hard so you haven’t been eating as much as you usually do. Does being sick have a smell to it? Fuck that is weird. Well, some animals could tell when others are sick before physical symptoms show. Maybe that's how he knew. No, that wouldn’t make sense because you aren’t really sick. You just have a big fat crush that's killing you. 

You can tell Logan doesn’t believe you. “Just fix it. Can’t stand the smell on you.” His hand lets go and he stalks down the hallway to where the others had walked off to. Your eyes linger on his form as he walks away. The ghost of a feeling on your arm where his hand had wrapped around it. The slight warmth seeping into your skin slowly vanishes. God you’re fucked. 

~~ >:3 ~~

And fucked you are. It’s been at least two months since you told Hank about the hanahaki. Hank is taking his sweet ass time researching the procedure, the doctor you called has called back finally and mentioned that his next opening for a consultation was still months away. Which you decide to say fuck that guy, you trust Hank can do it. The doctor probably won’t even work on a mutant. Logan is still always at the corner of your eye. A scowl or sneer on his face anytime he looks at you. Not to mention the flowers! They’re getting worse.

Full blooms, multiple at a time. Their petals no longer loose around the center. Now they are tightly packed, fully bloomed and speckled with blood as they escape through your throat. Occasionally there would be a flower that had not bloomed yet. Still wrapped tightly, not fully formed. You weren’t sure what that meant, but you’re sure it wasn’t good. At least they were not roses. You feel bad for those who dealt with that. Thorns were something you were happy that was not in the mix of your own flower hell.

The flowers aren’t fully developed yet. Stems have not fallen with them. Yet you are unsure if you would survive long enough to see the end stages of hanahaki. Your body is getting weaker and weaker each day. Your own mutation even fighting against you. You can hardly call on it now. Once you had wished to be a normal person, but that has been years ago. Now you feel like you are losing a part of yourself. These damn flowers truly are killing you. Both physically and emotionally. 

You had to leave class more often. The coughs that tore through your chest made it unbearable to speak long enough to teach an entire class to its completion. Students start to worry, other faculty seem to notice the sudden change as you have to start asking for people to cover your class for you as you rush to the restroom to hug the porcelain throne to exude the flowers of love. Each time more and more petals fall from your lips, tears stain your cheeks more often due to the pain and energy it takes to clear them out from your throat. 

It has gotten to the point where you had to ask someone to cover your class in full, or cancel it. You don’t want to cancel your classes, but at the rate you are going it will be the only thing you can do. Today is probably the last full class you can handle, you feel like shit. Your throat itches, your stomach aches from the lack of food. Your head hurts because of the lack of sleep from the coughing. Yeah, you might have to take a break from it all. What surprises you is that Logan is waiting outside of your classroom.

Ok it’s not that surprising. You’ve been catching him outside your classroom since he came back. It is like he is suddenly more aware of you. He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his eyes on you. You would be excited usually, your crush suddenly paying attention to you! How great is that? Yet lately it just makes things feel so much worse. Especially with that sneer on his face. You know he knows something is up, he made it clear two months ago. Though he hasn’t brought it up again. Yet he is always there. Like a shadow. 

Which is honestly a bit uncomfortable. You aren’t used to this amount of attention. 

“You don’t have to stand out here you know?” Papers you needed to grade were in your arms. You may need to take a break, but you should at least grade these papers before someone takes the class over. Your last bit of work. 

Logan just stares at you. The slight glare, the wrinkled nose, the arms crossing making those muscles bulge out of his shirt. You had to quickly drag your eyes away from his arms so you aren’t caught staring. You don’t meet his eyes though. It was too intense. 

“You’re getting worse.” Way to point out the obvious Logan.

“Good observation.” A short pause follows after. Silence falls for a few moments. “I uh, it’s why I’m takin a break. Sick leave? Uh… Yeah…” You really don’t know how to talk to him. The tickle in your throat is back again. Too soon, you just hacked up half your lung just moments before. You really don’t want to cough in front of him. You thought he might already know what it is, but he still thinks the smell on you is perfume. So no way do you want him to know the truth. 

Logan stares at you a few moments longer, a slight grunt. His head motioned for you to follow him. That’s how you read it at least as he starts to walk down the corridor and only pauses to look at you. Looks like you’re following him. This can’t end well can it? 

The two of you walk silently through the corridors. Your arms are still full of papers, but it seems the two of you are heading out into the garden. Probably for the best, the crisp air outside will dull the floral scent. Hopefully at least. Even if it lingers on your skin and it has gotten to the point others have even started to point it out. The halls were mostly empty though at this time. Most students are already off doing their own thing, you can vaguely hear a laughter from down the hall as the two of you finally make your way outside.

Into the garden, the cool air bites at your exposed arms. You should have worn a jacket. Too late for that now it seems. The trees are already turning orange, autumn making its way across the land. Oranges, reds and browns. If you weren’t full of anxiety you would be enjoying the sights. Especially as Logan brings you over to a small bench by the man-made pond. A bit away from everyone, but still close enough to the mansion you can dash inside if needed. 

You take a seat first. The papers sit beside you. Logan stands in front of you. Arms crossed and eyes narrowed. He isn’t sitting. Why isn’t he sitting?

“So uh…” Your voice comes out first, awkward and a bit unsure. The tickle in your throat grows again as you fight it back.

“It’s not perfume on you is it?” Logan’s gaze never leaves yours, but you can’t help but look away. Too uncomfortable with the eyes boring into you. You never once used perfume, though you did use that as an excuse didn’t you?

Silence followed after. Your eyes looking at the ground as you kick your legs back and forth. Unable to voice the truth. Logan is still looking at you, jaw clenching most likely. You don’t have to look at him to know.

His voice finally cuts through the silence. Apparently he was sick of you beating around the bush and not answering him. Your name on his lips startling you slightly. You honestly thought he didn’t know your name, but it seems you were wrong. “What's makin you so sick that it’s leaving you to look like that and smell like that.”

You should tell him. Tell him. TELL HIM. 

… 

You’ll tell him without actually telling him. You don’t think you’d survive telling him the full truth. You’re a pretty good liar most of the time. He might be able to pick through the lie but he’s not that perceptive right? 

“I uh… It’s.” You feel like you’re stumbling over your words, your throat constricting. “I have.”

You couldn’t finish your sentence. Your muscles tensing as a cough tears through you. Violently. Your body lurching forward as your hand shoots up to cover your lips as the cough pulls out petals and blossoms alike. Your hand can’t catch all the petals as they spill to the ground. Your eyes clenching shut as tears prickle the corners due to how painful it was. The other hand not covering your mouth grabs at your chest. As if you could claw the roots out through your skin. It burns. 

It burns, it burns, it burns. 

It won’t stop. You can’t stop hacking up the petals. Each cough brings out a sob with it as well. It has never been this bad. The scent of gardenias explodes. It burns your nose. You hate the smell of it. If you survive you’ll never be able to handle this scent again. Your body retching forward as you double over. Body crumpling in on itself as you try desperately to get some air into your already filled lungs. You would think having plants living in your lungs would give you more oxygen. If only it didn’t wrap tightly around your lungs and neighboring organs. Leaving little space for what you truly needed.

You almost forget Logan is there with you. An unexpected presence sits beside you. Warmth seeping into your side. He doesn’t set a comforting hand on your back. Doesn’t say any words. But him sitting beside you is enough comfort. You don’t think you could handle physical touch anyways. Your body would probably jerk harder at it. Hanahaki really was a killing disease wasn’t it. It was going to kill you before even getting to the final stage. You can’t do this.

Slowly the coughing fit lessens. The petals and blooms spilling from your mouth as if it was all you breathed came to a stop. Your body still hunched over, tears filling your eyes as you finally, finally stopped coughing up the damned flowers. You were still shaking, trying to catch the lost breath.

“You’re ok sweetheart. Just try and breathe.” Something large, heavy, warm rests on your upper back. Small soothing circles. He called you sweetheart, that was strange. You don’t expect comfort. You don’t think Logan expected to comfort you like this either. It was an awkward movement, but comforting. You wanted to lean into it, lean into him. You weren’t going to though. Pain was radiating through your chest and you weren’t sure you would be able to sit up straight without coughing again. Fear that any movement will bring on another coughing fit settled inside of you like a vice. You can still feel the slight tickle in your raw throat. 

You taste blood.

It takes a few tries, gasping tries, before air finally was able to fill your lungs enough that you could breathe properly. Or well, as well as you can with roots wrapping around your insides. You pull out a few petals that were still stuck in your mouth and let them fall to the ground as you slowly sit up. Still slightly hunched over but no longer practically hugging your legs. You wipe your mouth on the back of your hand, blood from your lips smearing across your skin. Eyes on the ground where the mess you made mocks you. There's so much, white and red. White flowers that you would have thought beautiful covered in splotches of your own blood. Tainting the gardenias, tainting the meaning of secret love. Disgusting. You’re disgusting. 

Your eyes linger on the ground as you finally speak. Voice raspy and strained. “Sorry.” 

“Nothin to be sorry about, nasty thing you got. Seen it a few times.” Logan’s voice is gruff, yet there is a touch of something tender in there. Unexpected. You don’t like it. He shouldn’t be treating you like this. He doesn’t know you, he doesn’t know that you’re like this because of him, because of your dumb crush on him that the world decided was good enough to practically kill you.  

Ok that’s not true. You know under his rough and tough demeanor and the huge, insensitive ass he could be. He’s caring and trustworthy. Loyal as fuck and self-sacrificing. It’s what had drawn you in in the first place. The soft look he’d give to people he cared about when no one was looking. The way he treats the younger mutants. It was heartwarming. Your admiration for him turned from simply looking up to him to wanting him to look at you that way.

Silence falls between the two of you again as you continue to try to take in oxygen. The taste of iron and earth is still on your tongue. The sound of fellow mutants distantly chatting and the occasional bird cuts through the silence. You don’t want to talk, you don’t want to tell him who your affliction derives from. You doubt he would ask, but he might. You’ll need to think of an excuse. A lie. Anything to keep him from finding out it is him. He’d reject you. You know this already. You’ve seen him look at others. He doesn’t look at you like that. You just learned he knew your name too! The two of you hardly spoke before. This is the most attention you have ever gotten from him. He doesn’t love you the way the disease needs him to. 

“Who's the asshole?” His words cut through the silence again. Surprising you once more. This definitely is the most words he has ever spoken to you.

“Doesn’t matter… He doesn’t feel the same.” Your throat continued to feel raw. It hurt to speak, but you needed to answer. You couldn’t stay quiet when he asked. Your gaze moves from the ground to glance at him from the side. You try not to meet his eyes but you can see a look on his face that had never been directed towards you. In any other situation you would be happy, ecstatic. Right now though, it makes your stomach tie up in uncomfortable knots. 

A slight hint of anger crosses Logan’s face and his hand just rests on your back, no longer rubbing those soothing circles. You know he wants to know. The look he has on him makes you think he sees you as someone under his protection, it’s nice. Even if it is not really what you want at the moment.

“So you’re willing to die for him.” There was a short pause between his words. His tone is soft, you don’t like it. “Seen most with it die that way. Shouldn’t have to die like that.”

You decide not to reply to the fact that you were willing to die for these feelings. Why? Because you still don’t want to believe it is true. Even with the flowers clearly showing signs the crush was love. Infatuation. You hate this. “Dr. Mccoy is going to perform the surgery for me. Should be any day now.”

You at least hope it will be any day now. You spoke to him a couple days ago and he seemed a bit all over the place so you couldn’t ask him if he was ready yet. You know he hadn’t forgotten, you saw the books laying on one of the tables next to some tools, but time was ticking and it was ticking fast. You know it and now… Now Logan knows it too. You’re on limited time. 

“I… can’t tell him. He doesn’t feel the same, he can’t. I’ll die if I tell him. I have to do the surgery. I’d rather chance not feeling love again than to confess and die. I…” Your hands curl into themselves as you look back down at the flowers. The tightening in your chest squeezes harder. You don’t need to explain yourself, but you feel like you have to. This way you can come to terms with it. Speaking it out loud makes it all too real. “I trust Dr.Mccoy. He won’t fail. He… he can’t.”

“Lotta trust in the guy.” Logan leans back on the bench, his hand lingering on your back removes itself as he crosses his arms. You feel the itch in your throat again, it’s too soon for more petals. You at least hope so. Logan then continues, “Remember watching someone choke on their own blood cause of that shit. Don’t want to see you on that end sweetheart.”

Logan called you sweetheart, again. It made butterflies fly around your stomach, churning with the anxiety already there. It was not the most comfortable of feelings. You weren’t expecting it this time either. It was nice. Would be nicer in better circumstances though. “Thanks Logan, but I’ll survive this. I have to…”

“Still think you should tell me who this asshole is. Could talk to him.” You hear the familiar snikt sound, a clear sign he extended his claws. A glance over was all you needed to confirm he did, the light gleaming off the metal. 

“God no! Sure actions speak louder than words for him, but it wont help.” Because he’d be threatening himself. You couldn’t help but let a pathetic laugh bubble up. Pain radiating through your chest and throat as you do so. At least you can still find some humor in this. Logan’s claws go right back under his skin and between his knuckles at your words. Though you can tell he still seemed interested in using violence against who is causing this for you. God, you wish you could tell him.

The two of you fall into another silence. Your own thoughts are swirling through your head and you’re sure Logan is also dealing with his own thoughts. Your disease is now out there. What truly ales you has been revealed without you actually saying the words. You wished you could have said the words, said what it was, told him your feelings. Though things never work out that way do they. 

You aren’t sure how this was going to end.

Logan looks at you the same time you gaze at him. Your eyes meet his blue ones. You would wax poetic about his eyes, but that seems pretty cliche. Everyone always does when talking about blue eyes, how they look like the ocean, or the sky. Logan’s reminds you of steel, the silvery blue that almost matches the adamantium claws you see on occasion. There is something in those eyes though, something you can’t read. Something behind that wall everyone knows he puts up. You want to dig deeper, fall into those eyes to avoid all your problems. Be free of the pain you can’t escape. The two of you seem to just stare at each other far longer than it felt. 

“Tell me when you get the surgery. I want to be there.” 

“...Okay.”

And just like that, the two of you break eye contact and fall into a silence. A silence only broken by the occasional cough from you and the sounds of nature and other mutants about. You wish you could have experienced this sooner. Before your world decided to crash down on you. You’ll just have to enjoy the time with him like this while you can. Before the feelings you have for him are forever torn away. Leaving only a hollow space in your chest for the fellow mutant. 

You’re not ready. 

~~ :3 !! ~~

Hank Mccoy finally let you know he was ready to do the surgery a few days after your chat with Logan. You weren’t ready for it. You didn’t want to lose these feelings, you didn’t want the complications that may follow, but fuck you don’t want to die either. You will die if you don’t do this surgery. You can’t… You have to do this. 

Which is why you are outside of the room Logan usually occupies when he is in the mansion. You've been standing outside of his room for what felt like hours now. You knew he probably could hear your heartbeat, but he isn’t coming out. He asked to be there when you got the surgery. He wanted to support you for some reason. You could just go, leave and get the surgery without telling him. Your anxiety welling up along with the urge to throw up. Your hand is already raised before you could stop yourself and you knock three times.

Silence follows after. The sound of shuffling and the door opens. Logan standing there in one of those slutty little white tank tops and jeans. A classic look that was all too hot in your opinion. Your mouth feels dry as he looks at you.

“I’m getting it now.” You rub your arm, unable to look him in the eyes. You do look at his face though. Just long enough to see shock cross his face for a few seconds, which quickly vanished back behind his usual look. Logan steps out of his room and shuts the door, head tilting to the side a bit as he waits for you to start walking to Hank’s lab. 

The two of you walk silently through the halls. It was late in the afternoon. You could have gotten it earlier in the day but your body was so exhausted from the coughing fit you had that night that you couldn’t bring yourself to get out of bed. In fact you’re still in your pajamas mostly. Sweatpants and a t-shirt. Comfy. You’re going into surgery, you deserve not to dress up for it. Logan doesn’t comment on it either so it’s fine. You’re fine. 

Everything is fine.

The two of you enter the lab quietly. No one else seems to be here but Hank. After all, one else knew. People knew you were sick of course, but you kept a tight lip on what exactly was inflicting you.

Hank greets you with your name. A look of surprise as his eyes drop onto Logan. Quickly he glanced back at you and you just shrugged your shoulders slightly. Letting Hank know the situation. How Logan knew what was wrong with you and wanted to be here with you. Moral support from the emotionally constipated x-men. Well, mostly constipated. 

After going over the procedures and what needed to be done you step behind the curtains, changing into one of those flimsy hospital gowns. The cool air nipping at your skin as you bite your bottom lip. You were scared. You didn’t want this. You couldn’t do this. You can’t do this! You don’t want to lose your feelings for Logan. He just now is starting to show you attention. It’s not fair! You shouldn’t have to deal with this! You can’t, you can’t, you can’t, you can’t, you can’t, you can’t, you can’t. 

“Are you okay?” Hank's voice cuts through your spiral. Eyes watering and your chest heaving. Ohm you were crying. No, you were sobbing again. Your hands are shaking at your side. You glance at the curtain that hid you from the other two. You know they heard you crying, heard you falling apart. How embarrassing. Your hand grips at the gown, bunching it up at your chest as you take a shaky breath. Lungs barely able to hold a full inhale. 

“Yeah… Yeah sorry. I’m ok. I’m ready.” You step out from behind the curtain. Clear concern was on the blue mutant's face. You can’t read the others. You don’t like this. You silently pad over to the table, bed, whatever it is, that is set up for you. Another strained breathe and you sit on the surface. A glance at the two of them and you lay back. You’re surprised the professor wasn’t here to help out. Maybe he wasn’t needed. Hank could handle this on his own. You can handle this. Logan was here, you didn’t want him here, but it was a strange comfort knowing the man you loved was here to support you. Even if said surgery would remove all feelings for him. How poetic. 

You stare at the ceiling, unsure of what to do as Hank moves around you. Logan who had been leaning on the wall walks over and takes your hand in his. Holding it as if you would shatter at the softest of touches. You hate it. 

“Offer still stands darlin’. Can make the guy love you back.” Although the words would work well in a teasing tone. There was a hint of seriousness behind it. Like he didn’t want you to go under. To have the gardenias removed from your chest. Your hand squeezes his weakly. You knew you didn’t have much time left. You had to do this or confess. Only one of those was an actual option.

Hank returns and holds up the mask. You lift your head up as he slides it over your mouth and nose. It’s too late. You can feel the tears threatening to fall again. You’re scared. Your grip on Logan’s hand tightens as Hank moves around you, making sure you’re hooked up correctly. Your vision starts to blur slightly. You try to inhale the gas as deeply as you could, it hurt. Your lungs didn’t want to fill, you think you can feel the roots wiggling deeper through your lungs and closer to your heart. Your eyes are on Logan, fear clearly radiating off of you. Your own eyes showing the anxiety inside of you. Logan just stands strong next to you. Like a silent guard. 

As the world starts to blacken around you, the corners of the room vanishing slowly. You couldn’t help yourself. You were getting the surgery. You can say the words now. It won’t matter. Your head was already floating and consciousness was fading. Eyes focusing on Logan, like a tunnel. All you could see was him as the world around you slowly vanished into nothingness.   Three words slipped out of you without much thought.

“I love you.” 

The world shifts and the world goes dark. 

The quiet beeping echos. A steady rhythm that matches the slight pounding in your head. Your eyes slowly open, only to quickly shut again. The lights were a bit too bright and everything was… Numb. Your mouth feels dry and you physically can’t feel anything. Did the surgery go wrong? Why can’t you feel anything? A groan bubbles up from your throat as you force your eyes to open. That’s when you feel it.

You can feel every muscle, every fiber of the blanket covering you. The heaviness in your chest is gone. You take a breath. You can… You can take a breath. Your lungs are fully filled with oxygen. Chest rising higher than it has in months. You can breathe. Your eyes open again, the bright fluorescent lights above you illuminate the room. You tilt your head away from looking up at the ceiling. Eyes moving around the room. Gaze falling on the little monitor you’re hooked up to. The beeping was your heartbeat. Ok. That looked good. 

Your head turns the other direction as you take in another sweet deep breath. Eyes landing on Logan. He was still here, sitting beside your bed, head lolled to the side clearly asleep. Your chest tightens in the familiar feeling you have been dealing with for months. That can’t be right. You shouldn’t still be feeling this longing. You shouldn’t still be feeling the warmth that spreads through you over the fact that he had stayed. You shouldn’t be feeling the soft tug on your heart as you look at him or the soft smile pulling on your lips.

This was wrong. Something was wrong. You raise the arm that wasn’t hooked up to all the devices and set it on your chest. There was pain there, raw and uncomfortable, but there was no bump on your chest to show there was a bandage, no pain pulling at your skin. The pain you felt was all under your skin. This isn’t right, something is wrong. Your chest felt clear but you have no evidence that you underwent the surgery. You force yourself to sit up. Pain shoots down your spine. You groaned in pain and a hand was suddenly pressing down on your shoulder. Forcing you back onto the bed. Logan had gotten up.

“Logan?” Your voice was scratchy. It felt just like the times you coughed up all those flowers when he found out. “What… What’s going on? Why do I…” 

“Yeah it’s me. Lay back down. Can’t have you moving around too much yet.” Logan’s hand was still on your shoulder, a gentle pressure making you lay back down onto the bed. Your eyebrows furrowing in confusion at the look he is giving you. You can’t read him. “Don’t talk too much either. Hank said you got to heal.”

Yet you’re pretty sure you didn’t get the surgery though! You should be dead. You… You told Logan how you felt. How you still feel. Yet the urge to cough is gone. Your chest feeling lighter than it has since before the disease took its hold on your life. That has to mean something. Something happened when you went under. What happened? Why won’t he tell you? Why is he looking at you like that? 

Logan’s hand finally pulled away from your shoulder. He just stares down at you as you stare at him. Silence falls between you two. His hand then slowly moves again. Your eyes darting down to the hand. Slowly his hand goes to push some hair out of your face. The same look he has been giving you for the past few months crosses his face. You still don’t know what it means, but it is making your stomach flip. 

“Glad you didn’t die for a guy like me. World be a lot darker without you in it.” His hand gently cups your cheek, his thumb gently rubbing your cheek. His hand was soft and warm. The touch a bit too tender for someone like him.

Wait. Wait wait wait. He heard you. He heard what you said before going under. You didn’t go through the surgery yet your chest feels lighter than it should. That could only mean one thing. Your eyes go wide in surprise and your lips part as you go to speak. Pain still itching at your throat.

“You heard me…” Of course he heard you! He was right next to you holding your hand. He has enhanced senses. He heard you confess. He heard you say you loved him. You’re still alive, you still feel for him and you confessed! That has to mean. Your face suddenly lights up. Heat pooling both on your cheeks and in your stomach. There is only one explanation. There is only one way you were able to live and still feel this way. Logan loved you back. That doesn’t make sense though! Before you started smelling like flowers the two of you never spoke to one another. Yet he…

He loved you back.

“Yeah, I did. Could have told me sooner to save you the pain. Told ya I’d make sure the guy felt the same.” His hand leaves your face. He turns to grab the chair he had been sitting in before and pulls it over. The chair legs screeching across the floor making you flinch at the noise. Once the chair was next to you he sat down and took your hand in his again. Once more treating you like glass. Though you appreciate it, you feel like glass right now. 

Logan lifts your hand up to his face, blue eyes staring straight into your own as his lips find your knuckles. Leaving a soft kiss. You were already blushing before, but you swear you feel like you’re on fire. His lips brushing against your knuckles as he speaks once more. You really aren’t used to hearing him speak so much. “Looks like we got a lot to talk about sweetheart.”

You just silently nod, unable to break your gaze from his. Your hand is lowered, your heart beating out of your chest. You are sure he can hear it. You lick your lips, unable to speak a word out of fear you’ll embarrass yourself further. Logan just chuckles slightly, a deep reverberating one. 

“Guess I should say it, not really good with the emotions shit, but I love you too.”

A few blinks and then a small laugh comes out of you. A wince follows after, but the biggest grin spreads on your face. All it took was you almost dying to finally hear those three little words. You’ll never look at gardenias the same again, nor will you be able to stand the sickly sweet smell of a strong floral scent. That doesn’t matter to you though. You obtained something you thought was unattainable. The love of the man you were in love with. The secret love no longer hidden. 

You can now understand the look Logan was giving you. It was the same you had been giving him. You both were in love with each other but were unsure how to go about it. All it took was the flowers that no longer were growing inside of you. 

You finally say the words, more confident than when you went under. “I love you.” 

“Love you too sweetheart.”