#hanahaki x reader

[bluukive]

Hanahaki

coɴтεɴт - MDNI, angst, mentions of dēath, jjk men x reader, reader has hanahaki dīsease, rejection, jjk men are mean

cнαrαcтεrѕ - Nanami, Gojo, Geto, Sukuna, Toji

Hanahaki Disease - a fictional dīsease where the vīctim coughs up flowers after experiencing a one-sided romance. This condition only ends once the love is returned, or the vīctim dīes. Please do not read if you think this will dīstress you ♡

Pt 2 HERE

I luv angst

[wolfbluebird]

When Roses Wilt

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader - Hanahaki disease

Word count: 1.2k

Summary: Natasha starts showing symptoms of a serious illness, but she hides it from everyone, including the person who loves her most.

(Men and minors DNI)

It starts quietly, like most tragedies do.

A cough, here and there. Nothing you wouldn’t chalk up to dry air or post-mission dust. Natasha waves it off without a second thought, with that closed-lip smile that says, Don’t ask. You’ve learnt to read her, over the years—it’s part of being her best friend. Her confidante. The only one she lets close.

Still, you notice the way she hesitates in the mornings now, hand resting against her ribs like they’re bruised from the inside out. You catch her spitting something into a napkin once—pink, almost translucent. You think it’s a blood clot. It’s not.

She starts chewing gum. Always peppermint. You don’t question it at first. Maybe it’s a new habit. But then you see her throw away a tissue when she thinks you’re not looking, and for the briefest moment, something delicate flutters inside it. Pale, like her skin’s been lately.

A flower petal.

The first time you say something, she brushes it off with a smirk and a shoulder nudge.

“What, you think I’ve got a mystery lung disease now?”

“No,” you say, lips tight. “I think you’re hiding something from me.”

She looks away. Laughs, empty. “You worry too much.”

You don’t press. That’s your first mistake.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

The weeks pass. The symptoms grow louder.

She starts missing training. She never used to. Even when she broke her ankle on that mission in Morocco, she still showed up to spar. But now, she begs off with quiet excuses—headache, tired, long night. She’s pale. The bags under her eyes look like bruises. Her voice is hoarse half the time, and when she laughs, she winces, like it hurts.

You hear the coughing through her door at night. Choking, retching sounds, like her lungs are drowning. Sometimes you think about knocking. But something stops you. Maybe fear. Maybe cowardice.

One morning, you walk into her kitchen and find a vase full of roses. They’re wilting at the edges, their stems heavy. You blink.

“Where’d these come from?”

She looks at them like she doesn’t know either. “No idea. Must’ve… shown up.”

She looks like a corpse wrapped in silk. Elegant in pain. Quiet in suffering. Always composed, always deflecting.

You ask if she’s been to medbay. She lies. “Routine check-up. Just allergies.”

But you start seeing blood. On her pillowcase. In her toothbrush cup. Smudged on her shirt collar. You find another petal once—this one dark red, almost bruised—curled beneath the bathroom sink like it’s hiding, too.

Your instincts scream at you. You know what this is. But denial is a seductive thing, and you’ve always been good at ignoring what hurts.

Until you can’t.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

She stops talking as much. Withdraws. It’s like watching someone slowly disappear, one atom at a time. Her eyes go dull. She doesn’t meet your gaze anymore. She avoids your touch, your jokes, even your concern.

You try to sit with her one night, to get through to her.

“Natasha. Something’s wrong.”

She doesn’t answer. Just stares out the window, her breath fogging up the glass. Her shoulders tremble, just once.

“Talk to me,” you plead.

“I can’t.”

She says it so softly you almost don’t hear it. Her hands are clenched into fists on her lap, knuckles white.

You think, for a split second, that she’s going to break. That she’ll tell you everything and let you hold her like she needs to be held.

But then she straightens, forces a tired smile, and whispers, “It’s nothing.”

You believe her. Or at least—you pretend to. Because you don’t want to admit the truth that’s blossoming right in front of you.

That the woman you love is dying for it.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

It happens on a Tuesday.

You were supposed to be in the field, a quick recon op in Brooklyn. But something gnawed at you the whole drive over—this awful, twisting sense of dread crawling under your skin.

So you bailed.

You don’t even knock when you reach her flat. The door’s ajar. That’s your first warning.

Inside, the air smells wrong—copper and roses. You feel it in your teeth.

Then you see her.

Crumpled on the hardwood, barely breathing, one hand clutching at her chest like she’s trying to hold herself together.

There’s blood everywhere. It streaks her lips, her shirt, the floor. Around her lie dozens of petals—some delicate and pink, others blackened and rotting. A few whole roses have burst from her throat, crushed where she fell, their stems jagged and green.

You drop to your knees beside her, already sobbing.

“Natasha—fuck, Nat—”

She’s conscious. Barely. Her eyes flutter open, unfocused. She tries to speak and chokes on a petal instead. You turn her head gently, helping her spit it out. Her mouth tastes of iron and death.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you cry, voice shaking. “You’re dying, Natasha—why wouldn’t you let me help?”

Her fingers curl around your sleeve weakly.

“I didn’t want to… burden you,” she gasps.

“Burden me?!” Your voice breaks. “You think I wouldn’t care?”

She smiles faintly. “I knew you cared.”

“Then why?”

She closes her eyes. “Because you never saw it. You never looked at me like… like I mattered that much.”

You collapse against her, tears dripping onto her collarbone.

“I do. I always did. I just… I didn’t think I deserved you.”

Her breathing stutters. Another cough wracks her whole body, and you hear something crack—maybe a rib, maybe your heart. She spits up another rose. The petals stick to her lips. Her eyes go glassy.

“I love you,” you whisper.

“Too late,” she breathes. “But… thank you.”

And then the light leaves her.

No dramatic gasp. No slow fade.

Just a soft, awful silence.

You scream.

You don’t remember much after that.

Only that her blood never quite washes off your hands.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

They let you bury her your way.

A private ceremony. Closed casket. You line it with roses—red, white, and black. You leave one on her pillow every night for a month after.

You sleep with her necklace under your pillow. The one she always wore—a silver pendant shaped like a spider. It smells like peppermint and blood.

You stop taking missions. You stop answering calls.

You exist. Barely.

But the grief clings to you. It chokes you the way the flowers choked her. Not with petals, but with guilt.

You tell yourself you’ll never forget the way she looked at you. Or the sound of her last breath. Or how her fingers twitched, trying to hold on, even when her lungs had turned into a garden she couldn’t escape.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

You keep one petal in your jacket pocket. A dried thing. Fragile. Like memory.

Some nights, you dream of her. Not the bloody ending. No. You dream of her laugh. Her smirk. The way she used to lean on doorframes and watch you like you were her favourite movie.

In those dreams, she never coughs.

She just says your name, like it means everything.

You say hers back.

And when you wake, heart pounding, you whisper the words you didn’t say soon enough:

“I loved you.”

Still do.

Always will.

Masterlist

[solxamber]

Coughing up Love - Idia Shroud x reader

You don't think much of it when Idia starts acting weird because let's be real, that seems to be his default around you. Wait are those flowers he's coughing up?

There’s something odd about Idia lately. He’s acting weird—well, weirder than usual, and that’s saying a lot for someone who’s mastered the art of avoiding people for weeks at a time. It’s subtle at first. His normally snarky, rapid-fire commentary seems more hesitant, his usual screen-lit complexion a bit paler, and he’s excusing himself mid-game way more often than usual.

And, most bizarre of all, every time you hang out, he always seems to keep something in his mouth. Gum, candy, or, more suspiciously, a fist pressed against his lips like he’s hiding something. You know Idia— he's socially awkward, sure, but when it’s just the two of you gaming or chatting, he’s rarely this strange.

Today, the two of you are halfway through an intense raid when he suddenly stands up, his chair creaking violently as he jerks upward.

“Pause! Time out, emergency bathroom break,” he blurts out, yanking his headset off with lightning speed and scrambling for the door.

You frown, watching his character get obliterated on screen. “Dude, you could’ve at least—”

“BRB!” he shouts, voice trailing off as he disappears into the hall. He’s gone in a flash, leaving you blinking at the door, wondering what just happened.

But that’s not the first time, nor will it be the last. Over the next few days, Idia pulls more disappearing acts than a badly programmed NPC. Mid-conversation? Poof, gone. Halfway through a snack? Vanished.

It takes a while, but eventually, the pieces staet to click together. You catch him out of the corner of your eye, face flushed pink, a hand pressed firmly to his mouth as he stifles a coughing fit during one of your game nights. At first, you’re concerned—it’s not like him to get sick, not seriously anyway. You suggest getting him medicine or a trip to the infirmary, but Idia adamantly waves it off.

“I-it’s nothing!” he stammers, trying to hold it together while choking down the coughs. “Just, uh, allergies! Y’know, dust and stuff. Old consoles… gotta, uh, clean them more…”

Suspicious. Old consoles? In Ignihyde? Yeah, right. You narrow your eyes, but drop the subject—at least for now. It’s not until later, when you see something float from his mouth—something blue and oddly petal-like—that you realize what’s happening.

You’ve heard of Hanahaki before. It’s practically a meme among some circles—an outdated trope, really. People coughing up flowers because of unrequited love? What is this, a 2000s anime fanfic? But now, watching a crumpled blue petal fall to the floor in slow motion, you realize that your very own shut-in gamer might be the rare exception to the rule.

The worst part? He’s really, really bad at hiding it.

A few days later, you invite him to hang out at Ramshackle, hoping the quiet environment will calm whatever’s been causing his weird behavior. Things seem fine at first—until you notice him coughing into his sleeve again.

This time, he has a backup plan.

“Are you okay?” you ask, brow raised as he muffles yet another cough.

“Yeah, totally! Just, um…” He rifles through his bag and pulls out a—oh dear sevens, is that a mask?

You can’t help it—you burst out laughing. “You’re… you’re seriously wearing a mask now?”

“It’s for—” He coughs violently again, eyes darting around as if looking for an escape. “For, uh, germs! You know, flu season! Gotta… gotta be prepared…”

You squint at him. “We’re indoors. And it’s summer.”

“Exactly!” he says, as if that makes sense. “The germs are, like, in the air! Sneaky buggers!”

The mask stays on for the rest of the evening, and every time you glance at him, you see his eyes flick away like he’s hiding something worse than a little cough.

His next attempt is, frankly, genius in its stupidity. You’re in his dorm, playing a co-op game, when the inevitable happens: he starts hacking up petals. At first, he plays it off with a hurried gulp of water, but soon the coughing becomes too much. With a gasp, he fumbles for something on his desk—a box of tissues? No, it’s a full-on dust mask this time.

“Idia, what the fu—”

“Pro-gamer tip,” he interrupts, voice muffled behind the mask. “Always be prepared for, uh… dust allergies! It’s, uh, a top-tier strat. Totally not s-suspicious.”

Dust? When he has Ortho making sure that he doesn’t perish? You stare, absolutely dumbfounded. “I’m starting to think you’re more allergic to honesty than dust.”

He laughs—well, tries to. It comes out as a garbled mix of coughing and awkward chuckles. “W-what are you talking about? I’m fine! Really!”

“Fine?” You raise an eyebrow, watching as more petals spill out of his sleeve. “You’re literally falling apart, dude.”

At this, his face burns bright pink, and his hair flares up, turning from it's usual blue to a mortified rosy hue. “N-no I’m not!” he protests weakly. “J-just a little springtime cold, that’s all.”

“Yeah, sure,” you say, crossing your arms. “Because spring colds definitely involve coughing up whole bouquets.”

There’s a brief pause as you both stare at the mess of petals on the floor. Idia winces, clearly defeated, and slumps back into his chair.

“...Crap.”

The look of his face tells you to let it go and you do, believing that it'll probably resolve itself. You weren't from this world, maybe it was common here and you were the one that's overreacting?

After another week of weird excuses, mask-related antics, and watching him suffer through increasingly ridiculous attempts to hide his Hanahaki, you’ve had enough. You’re going to get to the bottom of this once and for all.

You catch him mid-cough during one of his solo raids, bursting into his room without warning. Idia practically jumps out of his seat, slamming the pause button and whirling around with wide eyes.

“W-what are you doing here!?” he yelps, trying (and failing) to hide the petals littering his desk. “I—uh—this isn’t what it looks like!”

“Really? Because it looks like you’ve been coughing up whole flowers,” you say, deadpan, as you point to the pile of blue petals strewn across his keyboard. “Seriously, Idia. What’s going on?”

He freezes. For a moment, the room is deadly silent—except for the faint sound of digital gunfire in the background. His face, already pale, turns ghostly white, and his flames flicker pink in embarrassment.

“I…” He stammers, looking everywhere but at you. “I didn’t… It’s not…”

You cross your arms, raising an eyebrow. “Spit it out. Or should I say, ‘cough it out?’”

It’s the worst joke you’ve ever made, and yet, somehow, it breaks the tension. Idia lets out a wheezing, awkward laugh, though it quickly dissolves into another coughing fit. This time, he doesn’t even try to hide it—just pulls his knees up to his chest and buries his face in his arms, defeated.

“I’m such a loser,” he mumbles, voice muffled. “I thought maybe… maybe if I ignored it, it’d just go away. Y’know, like a glitch or something.”

Your heart clenches at the sight of him, all curled up and vulnerable. It’s so unlike the cocky, trash-talking gamer you’ve come to know. You crouch down beside him, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“Idia,” you say softly, “you’re not a loser.”

He peeks out from behind his arms, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Y-yeah, right. I’m just the guy who gets Hanahaki because I can’t even confess like a normal person.”

You blink. “Wait—Hanahaki? Like actually?”

You did not expect that. You expected it to be some weird disease that was native to twisted wonderland and not actually Hanahaki of all things.

Idia winces, his hair turning a bright shade of pink as he realizes what he’s just admitted. He looks away, fiddling nervously with the edge of his sleeve. “...Yeah. It’s stupid, I know.”

For a moment, you’re speechless. All those strange behaviors, the coughing, the flowers—it all makes sense now. He’s got Hanahaki, and he’s been trying to hide it because…

“Idia…” you whisper, heart pounding. “You love me?”

He squeezes his eyes shut, his whole body trembling. “I-I mean, i-it’s not like I expect you to feel the same! I know I’m not, like, Vil-level handsome or anything. I just… didn’t want to ruin things.”

You feel a warmth spreading through your chest, and before you can stop yourself, you lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek.

Idia goes completely still. His hair flares up, a brilliant pink, as he slowly opens his eyes in disbelief.

“Y-you…” he stammers, voice barely a whisper.

You smile softly. “I love you too, you dork.”

For a second, he just stares at you, as if he can’t quite process what you’ve said. Then, with a choked sob, he flings himself into your arms, burying his face in your shoulder as the last of the petals fall away.

“I’m such an idiot,” he mutters, but there’s a hint of relief in his voice. His arms tighten around you, and you can feel the rapid thumping of his heart against your chest.

"You’re not an idiot," you murmur, gently running your fingers through his hair. The flames have cooled down to a soft, warm pink, flickering faintly in the dim light of the room. "And you don’t need to be Vil-level handsome. You’re just you, and that’s more than enough."

Idia snorts, though it’s more out of disbelief than amusement. "Yeah, right. I’m just the weirdo who plays video games all day and coughs up flowers. Super attractive."

You pull back slightly, just enough to look him in the eyes. "Hey, I don’t care about that. Do you think I’d be hanging out with you all the time if I didn’t like you? I’m here because I care about you, Idia."

For a moment, Idia just stares at you, his mouth slightly open like he’s trying to come up with some kind of retort, but nothing comes out. He looks… overwhelmed, his usual sarcastic defense mechanisms short-circuiting under the weight of your words. His eyes dart away, then back to you, and finally, with a shaky breath, he mutters, "I don’t get it… Why me?"

You smile, brushing a stray petal from his hair. "Because you’re kind, even if you don’t realize it. You’re funny, you make me laugh all the time—even when you’re not trying. And you’re smart, way smarter than you give yourself credit for. I like being with you, Idia. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t."

His face flushes a deeper pink, his flames flickering erratically as he shifts nervously in your arms. "I-I… I don’t know what to say…" he stammers, his voice cracking slightly. "I thought for sure you’d think I was a weirdo or something."

You chuckle softly, resting your forehead against his. "Well, you’re my weirdo, then."

That earns a shaky laugh from him, though it quickly turns into another coughing fit. You gently rub his back as he coughs, but this time, instead of petals, there’s just the sound of his breath gradually evening out. He looks at you, wide-eyed, as if expecting to see more flowers—more proof of his self-doubt.

But the petals are gone. The weight that’s been crushing his chest, suffocating him with every breath, has finally lifted.

Idia stares at you for a long moment, his expression softening as the reality of the situation settles in. His arms loosen around you, but he doesn’t pull away—he stays close, resting his head on your shoulder with a sigh that’s both relieved and exhausted.

"Does this mean…" He hesitates, his voice barely above a whisper. "Does this mean we’re… together now?"

You grin, tilting his chin up so he has no choice but to meet your gaze. "If you want us to be."

Idia’s face erupts into a brilliant shade of pink, and for a moment, you think his face might actually catch fire. He quickly looks away, fiddling nervously with the hem of his shirt, but there’s a small, shy smile playing on his lips.

"I-I guess that’d be… kinda nice," he mumbles, almost inaudible.

You laugh softly, leaning in to press a kiss to his forehead. "It’s more than nice, Idia. It’s perfect."

For the first time since you’ve known him, Idia doesn’t argue. He doesn’t self-deprecate or brush off your words with sarcasm. Instead, he lets out a soft, content sigh, resting his head against you again, his flames warm and steady.

"Yeah," he whispers, his voice filled with quiet relief. "I think it is."

And for once, Idia Shroud—the boy who always felt like he didn’t deserve happiness—finally lets himself believe it.

You stay like that for a while, curled up together in the quiet of his room, the low hum of his gaming console filling the background. It’s peaceful in a way you never expected with Idia, who’s usually so frantic and anxious. But now, with the weight of unspoken feelings finally lifted, he’s calm. Happy, even.

After a long moment, he pulls back slightly, glancing at the screen. "Uh… w-we left the raid halfway through," he mumbles, as if the thought had just occurred to him. "My bad. We probably wiped the whole party by now."

You laugh, ruffling his hair. "I think they’ll survive without us for a bit. But we can jump back in if you’re up for it."

Idia hesitates for a second, then shakes his head. "Nah… I’d rather just… stay here. With you."

The admission is so soft, so vulnerable, that it makes your heart ache in the best possible way. You smile, pulling him close again, and this time, he doesn’t flinch or make any excuses. He just rests his head on your shoulder, his pink flames flickering contentedly.

Maybe it’s not the typical "fairy tale" kind of love. It’s awkward and a little messy, filled with gaming mishaps and coughing up flowers. But it’s real. And for Idia, that’s more than enough.

he's reminds me of a pathetic wet cat left in the rain but god do I love him

Masterlist

[sebmindbreak]

Angst request..? User has Hanahaki Disease and is trying to hide it from Azure? (Idk sorry :,3)

OOO

user/you with an hanahaki disease , you got it! >u<

now you didnt precise if you wanted one shot or headcanons

SO FOR A CHANGE I DID HEADCANONS!

i had to do some research , i hope i did okay!

LIKE ALWAYS IF YOU SEE ANY MISTAKES TELL ME!

i alwas reread myself , but a mistake can escape me..

i hope you like it!

TYPE: ANGST

TITLE : flower bearings

AZURE

-He's incredibly perceptive, especially when it comes to you.

-At first, he notices your behavior changing how you flinch when you cough, how you always excuse yourself when you feel something rise in your throat.

-You try to smile it off, pretending you’re just tired or sick with a cold, but Azure isn’t convinced.

-He tries not to pry at first, giving you space. He respects boundaries.

-But every time he hears a stifled cough behind closed doors or sees the petals you failed to clean up, it gnaws at him.

-When he finally finds out it's Hanahaki, he panics internally.

-He hides it well, but inside, he’s terrified. Terrified of what it means, of how much pain you've been enduring alone.

-He demands to know why you didn't tell him. Not out of anger, but out of hurt. "Why didn't you trust me? Why did you think I wouldn't care?"

-Once he understands the disease is rooted in unrequited love, his tone softens.

-Azure refuses to let you suffer alone. He becomes more attentive carrying tissues, checking your pulse, making tea (if you like tea), even brushing petals out of your hair gently.

-He doesn’t leave your side unless he has to.

-He starts researching obsessively, desperate for a cure, a treatment, anything.

-When he realizes the disease is about you loving him, he freezes.

-"...It's me, isn't it? The one you... feel for?"

-If he realizes he loves you too, he won't waste another second. He’ll confess, with shaky breath and teary eyes, and hold you tightly.

-If he doesn’t feel the same (or isn't sure he does-), he still won’t let you go through this alone.

-He'll cradle you like you're fragile glass, quietly crying when you sleep, cursing himself for not seeing it sooner.

-Azure is soft with you, even when he’s scared.

-He brushes your hair back after every painful coughing fit, whispers encouragement, and makes sure you feel cared for.

-He might not have all the answers, but he makes sure you know: he isn’t going anywhere.

-Even if it hurts him too.

I HOPE YOU LIKED IT!

i kinda did a mix of past and present azure for fun too <3

[ferigrievous]

✶⋆.˚ ROMANCE TROPES | SEIJOH FOUR .ᐟ

⤷ masterlist ; requests open ; 1.8k wc

a.n ; inspired by @kaiijo's romance tropes post. saw it yesterday night and the idea plagued me until i wrote about it and got a little carried away sorry 😓😓

oikawa tooru ✦︎ fake dating

oikawa tooru is sick of love. or maybe, he’s sick of the version of love that people throw at him– the hollow kind, the infatuation that burns bright and fizzles out, leaving only the aftertaste of disappointment. he has always been beautiful in a way that hurts, in a way that makes them forget that he’s more than just soft smiles and perfect hair. 

they fall for the idea of him, for the image he’s so carefully built, but none of them ever stay long enough to see the cracks beneath the surface. and maybe that’s why he doesn’t let them. but you, though, you’ve always known. 

you, who sits across from him at cafes, watching as he stirs too much sugar into his coffee. you, who listens to his rants about volleyball and the way his voice wavers when he talks about not being enough. you, who understands him in a way no one else does, in a way that terrifies him. because it’s easy to play pretend with strangers, but not with you. never with you.

so when he slides the idea across the table between bites of his lunch—let’s fake date—it almost feels like a joke. a ridiculous, stupid, reckless idea, the kind only he would come up with. but there’s something in his voice, something tired and worn down. a close friend has caught feelings, and he’s exhausted, and you—his best friend, his safe place—are the only one he trusts to do this without complications. "i need someone who won’t catch feelings," he says, and you agree before you can think too hard about why that stings.

but it should’ve been a warning.

because the thing is, oikawa is good at pretending. he always has been. but for all his acting, for all his careful distance, he doesn’t expect the way it starts to feel real. the way his heart stumbles when you laugh at something stupid he says. the way he starts watching you like you’re the most interesting thing in the room. the way it stops feeling like a performance.

and its easy, at first. posting each other on your stories, getting matching keychains, matching necklaces. leaning into each other on the train just enough to sell the illusion. you play your part, and so does he. but somewhere between staged photos and whispered gossip, the line between fiction and reality starts to blur. the way he looks at you lingers too long. the way his hand finds yours even when no one’s watching.

and by the time he realizes, its too late.

because love, real love, has always scared him. it’s messy and unpredictable, and he’s never been good at holding onto things that matter. and now, here you are, looking at him with something like understanding, something like patience, something like the very thing he swore he wouldn’t feel.

and maybe this is the part where he ruins it. or maybe—just maybe—it’s the part where he finally lets himself have something real.

iwaizumi hajime ✦︎ childhood best friends

some places never stop belonging to you.

he has spent his entire life as something in between. too japanese for his filipino relatives, too filipino for his japanese classmates. his mother calls him anak, his father calls him hajime, and neither name feels more real than the other. he spent years swallowing syllables, and now, he is something else entirely. his japanese too stiff, his english too practiced, and his filipino non-existent, his identity a blurred outline of something he cannot quite define.

he was eight when he left the philippines. sometimes, when he closes his eyes, he can still hear the voices of the neighborhood vendors calling out in the morning. can still feel the heat of the pavement under his feet, still taste the salt in the air.

and he can still remember you.

you, his first best friend, his shadow in the summers he spent barefoot on hot pavement, running through the streets of a neighborhood that smelled like sun-dried laundry and frying garlic. you, who sat cross-legged next to him, drinking melted ice candy from plastic tubes, who never made him feel like he had to choose between halves of himself. you, who he left behind when his father’s job took him across the sea, who he promised to call and never did.

but life has a strange way of circling back.

he doesnt expect to find you again. not here, not in america, not years,  later in a university much too far away for either of you. but when he hears your voice, your voice, when he turns and meets your gaze across the room, it’s like something shifts back into place.

“..hajime?”

and just like that, he is eight years old again, standing in the middle of the street with a packed suitcase and a heart too full for his chest.

at first, it’s small things—catching up in between classes, sharing meals that taste almost right but never quite like home. he doesn’t realize how much he’s missed the way you say his name, the way you switch between languages like it’s second nature, like you’ve never had to think twice about where you belong. and he still calls you by the same nickname, like no time has passed at all.

but time has passed.

he is not the boy who left. and you are not the kid who stayed behind.

still, there is something familiar about the way you fall into step beside him. something easy about the way the lilt in his voice when he speaks to you, the way he lets his guard down in ways he doesn’t with anyone else.

"it’s weird," he says one night, walking side by side through the city. "i always felt out of place in japan. but here, i don’t know… you make it feel less lonely."

you don’t say it, but you understand. you always have.

and maybe that’s why, when his hand brushes yours as you two walk, neither of you pull away.

matsukawa issei ✦︎ unresolved feelings

a cowards way out.

thats what it was. thats what is was, breaking up with you right after highschool, when everything was already changing, when he could pretend it was just another part of growing up. another thing to leave behind.

but god, if it was that easy, why does he still dream about you?

it wasnt even real. not in the way that mattered. no grand confessions, no whispered ‘i love you’s’ between classes, no valentines gifts or anniversary flowers. just you, beside him, always, with your shoulder pressed against his like you belonged there. just the way you’d lean into him when the world felt too loud, the way his fingers would catch your wrist before you could slip too far away.

just the way it felt like something more, even when neither of you called it that.

but the truth is, he was terrified. because it wasn’t supposed to be serious. just something easy, something comfortable—best friends with a little more weight between you two, a little more gravity. but then he started wanting. started craving things he couldn’t put into words. started feeling too much. it felt  wrong, in the way that made love feel like a curse, like something he had to cut out before it rotted him from the inside.

so he ended it. before the flower could bloom. took a knife to the stem and cut it lose.

it was supposed to be easier. if he let go first, before it could wilt, before it could mold, if he walked away before it could become something he couldnt care to lose.

but the thing about love—the real kind, the kind that sinks into your bones and refuses to leave—is that it doesn’t care about logic. doesn’t care that he thought he could outgrow it. doesn’t care that he thought distance would fix it.

but distance only made the absence heavier. it crept in through the cracks, settled in his chest like a second heartbeat, a quiet, persistent ache that never really left. every time he reached for someone else, he found the ghost of you instead. in the way they spoke, the way they laughed—never quite right, never quite enough.

and now, years later, he sees you again—across a crowded room, older but still you, still his, if only in the way his body reacts before his mind can stop it. only in the way his heart feels too big for his chest.

his breath catches.

and when you look at him, when your lips part like you might say something, he realizes—

issei never stopped wanting you.

hanamaki takahiro ✦︎ hanahaki disease

hanamaki doesnt know when it started. maybe it was the first time you laughed, head thrown back, sunlight catching the sharp edges of your smile. or maybe it was all the little things—the way you spoke his name like it belonged to you, the way you leaned into him without thinking, the way you never looked at him the way he looked at you.

it doesn’t matter when.

it only matters that it’s killing him.

the petals gather around his bed in some cruel mockery, soft and pale and drenched in something not quite right. he forced down the rest that bubbled in his throat, convincing himself that he just had drank too much the night before. a trick of a mind, just another thing he could ignore.

but this isnt something he can ignore. not you, not the roots curling around his lungs, vines tangling in his ribs. every breath is a struggle, every word caught between the thorns that twist and dig into the tender flesh of his throat. he speaks less, smiles through the pain, pretends it’s nothing even as petals slip past his lips like confessions he’ll never be brave enough to say.

and hanamaki knows how this ends before it even starts.

he could tear out his heart. place it in your hands, let you decide if he lives, or how he dies. carve it from the marrow of his bones and be left with something empty, something quiet. he could survive this.

but to survive would mean forgetting you.

you, who has always been just out of reach, who laughs like the world was made for just you two, who speaks of love like it is something simple. you, who links pinkies with him in crowded hallways, or holds onto the back of his shirt while walking. you, who is everything he has ever needed, and then a little more.

but the body is cruel. it does not let him forget, does not grant him the mercy of ignorance. even when he closes his eyes, you are there, haunting him in every dream, every half-remembered moment where you are his. but then he wakes up, and all that’s left is the ache and the petals staining his pillowcase

so he lets it grow.

lets it consume him, lets it wind around his heart and squeeze until there’s nothing left. until he is nothing but petals and longing, breathless and bleeding for a love that was never his to keep.

he lets it grow. and the flowers bloom once more.

[neerathebrightstar]

Prequel : “ Curse upon thy garden”

pairing: Hal Jordan x gn reader

Hanahaki disease trope with a sprinkle of yandere (for now)

Inspired by @acid-ixx series again&again so it will get so much worse before it gets better

Read until the end for the author’s note

It isn’t until Hal starts coughing up petals that he realises how truly fucked he is. Sitting in front of the toilet bowl, retching and choking on red, purple and pink flowers he doesn’t know the name of, Hal allows himself to mourn. He mourns for the love that he now is sure will never be reciprocated and he mourns himself. There is no need to go see a surgeon when Hal knows he won’t be able to do what’s necessary to cure the disease. After all, Hanahaki ends in two ways: death or the flowers have to stop growing. And because Hal knows there is no way his love will ever love him back, the only way to save his lungs from becoming an overgrown garden is the surgery. It’s a horrific thing, barbaric even. Instead of love and petals, after the procedure there is a clean slate. It rids you of any feelings for the object of your affection and the ability to ever feel anything for them again. Hal’s love is strong, just like his will, it borders on obsession, and ever growing need to own the object of his desires. In the end it doesn’t matter if Hal will die, he is not afraid of death, what scares him is losing you. To never feel the love that bleeds from his heart into his lungs, and grows into the beauty with thorns is to truly die. You are his life, the air he breathes and flowers he chokes on. To allow someone to tear them out of their fertile soil is to tear out his heart.

When Spooky first demanded Hal stay away from his city, the ring wielding hero hadn’t paid the request (order really) much thought. Gotham was still in Jordan’s sector, he was obliged to patrol in the Known Universe so it was not like Batman could keep him out of his nest. Hal didn’t particularly like the vigilante too much since, well always, and getting on his nerves was like a hobby to him. He was pretty sure that Batman lived in a cave anyway (because who the fuck was even Bruce Wayne?) so who did he think he was to lecture the Great Green Lantern how to do this job.

It was during one of the moments when Hal felt like making a nuisance out of himself that he flew to Gotham using the ring. The original plan was to find Batman, see him pop a blood vessel, then go back home satisfied, drink a few beers and sleep. The problem was that he couldn’t find Spooky. Or any of the masked vigilantes in bird themed costumes (ridiculous idea if you were to ask him). But he couldn’t just leave like a dog with its tail tucked between his legs. God forbid one of Batman’s kids whose veins were filled with whatever serrum Bats invented to make them nocturnal find out about it and taunt him with it. He would not be bullied by kids with rabies thank you very much.

Hal flies around Gotham a couple of times as Green Lantern and stops a few minor crimes just to really rub it in Bruce’s face. He feels like a rebellious teenager decorating alleys with his signature graffiti and it makes him giddy. He doesn’t engage in any bigger stuff regarding Gotham’s colourful gallery of rogues. That will really piss Batman off, and Hal understands why. It would be like saying that he can’t handle his mess, in his own city, so while Jordan likes to irritate Spooky he still respects him enough not to get in his way too much.

He spends an hour like that before he decides that the Big Bad Bat won’t show up after all. He turns around to return to his home when he sees them. They are sitting on a rooftop, in one of the darker parts of Gotham (and Hal isn’t talking about light only, he is pretty sure most of the attacks he stopped tonight were in this neighbourhood), dressed in loose and old pants and the ugliest Christmas jumper Hal has ever seen. Even from so far away (he can’t explain why it bothers him that he can’t touch them immediately, whenever he wants) Jordan knows they are getting ready to jump (it will kill them and the thought takes all of breath from his lungs). He can’t scare them so he makes the glow of his suit even brighter, to the point he really looks like a human green lantern and flows to meet them gently over the railing. Their eyes snap from the asfalt below when Hal drapes himself dramatically next to them. He smiles somewhere between cocky and gentle and wiggles his brows.

“Everything's all right there, sweetheart?”

When they finally face him completely, something in his chest clicks so loudly, Hal knows that half of Gotham heard him. Staring at him are the loveliest eyes he ever saw on any species he encountered in Galaxy. Tears stream along their face like the artist's carefully placed strokes of a brush. Few of the city’s misplaced lights shine on their cheeks like glitter. It only adds to the fairytale like picture and the tugging on his hearth increases.

“Green Lantern? What are you doing in Gotham?”

Oh god. Thousands of angels sing in that voice (your voice is scratchy from all the crying but he doesn’t hear that. Right now he can’t stop looking and the only thing he sees is perfection) and Hal feels honoured his ears were worthy enough to hear it. He feels the sudden urge to tuck them under his head and protect them from all the harm in this world and every other world out there.

“Business with Gotham’s own Dark Knight. But seems his lady doesn’t own to good of a leash for her guard dog cause I can’t find him anywhere”

Hal pretends not to see how their face falls at the mention of the former emo kids and the BDSM enthusiasts wet dream come true clad in his leather glory and focuses on the problem at hand. They were trying to jump.

“But the FreakTM can wait, his bedtime doesn’t start until the sun goes up. Plenty of time to catch him later. Mind if I sit with you?”

He feels proud of himself when they crack a smile at his joke and don’t jump down to crack their skull instead. They look around, like they are checking if he is really talking to them before they scooch a little and put their knees to their chest. They wrap their hands around them and it’s only now that Hal sees them shaking. The Gotham air is chilly when Jordan finally sits down next to them before conjuring a big, warm and glowing green blanket to wrap around their shoulders. Hal more than feels the breath that hitched in his companion’s chest. They seem so small now, so breakable and Hal thanks whatever deity watched over them today that he made it on time.

“Bad day huh?”

They take their sweet time to respond but he waits patiently, so unlike himself, made to always leap into action. But it’s important, he can’t fuck it up. They sit there together, watching the streets of the crime infested city until the Batsignal appears on the foggy grey night sky. The civilians don’t usually fear the Bat, he protects them as much as he protects the city, but the one next to him clearly flinched like they were just slapped. He doesn’t ask because they are beginning to choke on sobs. They clutch their jumper and to Hal’s horror, they start beating themselves just over their hearth. He quickly takes their hands between his and squeezes.

“Please don’t do that”

They try to take their hands from him and sob more loudly. Hal doesn’t let go so they sit like that for a few more minutes before their silent voice interrupts the crying.

“Can you please hold me?”

They sound embarrassed and Hal wants to strangle whoever made them feel like asking for comfort is something not available to them. He pulls them so close they are practically sitting in his lap and hugs them tightly. They latch on him instantly and Jordan starts to pet their hair with one hand, humming softly.

“As long as you wish for, sweetheart”

That night you fall asleep on the hero’s shoulder, captured in his arms. You wake up alone but safe in your own bed, still wrapped in the glowing blanket. It doesn’t disappear until you properly stand up. The apartment is cold as always and there is nothing that can be done about that. But you feel warmer at the memory of last night. Because that was a Green Lantern, a hero both on this planet and others, a founding member of the Justice League. It has been a long time since anyone willingly offered you comfort like that. Sure, when you lived in the manor Alfred and his mostly silent presence was there, but he never touched you openly like that. Like a father or an older brother concerned for your wellbeing. And to be important enough in the Lantern’s eyes that he took time out of his day and saved you from throwing yourself to a certain death? It was a freeing experience, it showed you that you matter. So what if you never saw him again? You will always remember his embrace, his sweet nickname for you but most importantly you will always remember that every other day you will get to live will be thanks to his kindness.

It was not the last time you ever saw Hal. After he suffered through the Batman’s angry speech about respecting each heroes rules in their city (what a hypocrite, Hal knew very well he had contingencies on all of them and regularly broke their established rules) and his threats to never show his ugly green glow there again, the only thing he could think about was you. Your pretty, shiny eyes and soft, heartbreaking smile. He had to see you again. Just for the peace of his mind to make sure you didn’t try to jump again. It also had an added benefit of regularly pissing off Spooky who was sure to get an aneurysm if he ever saw him flirting with a civilian in his city as a Green Lantern.

The next time he comes, he should bring something to eat with him. He saw your pathetic excuse of a kitchen so what better way to charm you than feed you? He couldn’t exactly ask you out to a proper restaurant like he normally would, not in a suit so takeout would have to do. He needs to catch your name this time. After all he has to make sure it will sound good with your future last name “Jordan”.

this work is a gift to a wonderful @acid-ixx who inspires me everyday to write. his series a&a changed me as a person and I recommend you read it. this work is inspired by his series and i plan on it being a multi chapter piece but i won’t promise any regular posting, my writing schedule is shit. Yael i love you for your hard work and writing so this was meant to be a birthday present for you but I didn’t manage to finish it on time and i still had to split it.

If anyone want to be tagged let me know <3

[orangmint]

SMAU #1 BOYS OVER FLOWERS

hanahaki au, megumi fushiguro x reader . (fem pronouns used) synopsis: reader catches feelings for megumi, unknowingly, it affects her health too

masterlist

chapter. 1 i know you

chapter. 2 once more to see you

chapter. 3 do you miss me?

chapter. 4 see you soon

chapter. 5 pier 4

chapter. 6 see you in hell

chapter. 7 i know you (too)

chapter. 8 chest pain (i love)

chapter. 9 enough for you

chapter. 10 track 10

coming soon 💜 taglist closed (for now) (ITS NOT LETTING ME TAG MORE PEOPLE????💔💔)

taglist: @loveyislost @love-me-satoru @radioh3adach3 @merciless-perseus66 @1l-ynn @infl1cted @linaaeatsfamilies

[6thscara]

i’m alive i swear!!!

Hanahaki Disease [oneshot— part one?]

✭ Scaramouche x Reader

ׂ╰┈➤ hanahki au / reader’s love is unrequited💔 / not many details for reader’s character / light angst / some lumine x scara / scaramouche is called Wanderer / no use of y/n

.ೃ࿐ synopsis ; you’re just another adventurer, she’s the traveler. of course it was dumb to be hopeful, but love turns you foolish. it’s a force with enough power to drive you to death

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bro i cannot finish writing this.. i’ve had it in my drafts for like a year but i don’t know where to go w it tbh.

in that year i’ve also been going through a lot… but i wanna write again!! and i wanna take requests :D

no beta im tired of this thing💔

2,277 words

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You expected this— knew fully well it would happen, and yet you pursued.

Between you and the blonde traveler, Lumine, of course he’d like her more. It wasn’t even a contest— she’s strong, clever, and beautiful.

On the other hand, you’re just you. Which isn’t a lot. Not enough for him. Yet, your wishful thinking kept you going.

It also brought you here once again— slumped over in a secluded field in the forest, choking out petals with various hues. Your eyes scrunch at the sight of the flowers you’ve been coughing out, your heart full of resent. You sigh, thinking about how pathetic you must look.

You’ve known the Wanderer for a while, though still not too long. You knew him enough to know that despite his cold demeanour, there was a soft side to him. Although you’ve seen part of it, its entirety was reserved for someone else.

That’s why you find yourself in such a pitiful state.

With one last look at the mess you’ve made, you stand up. Your wobbly knees almost knock you over before you can hold onto a nearby tree to catch your breath.

Your body was starting to grow weak. Day by day, it was getting harder to do commissions and your daily activities— which definitely did not go unnoticed by your peers.

“…What’s up with you?” A voice calls out behind you, accompanied by the sound of jingles. It was the Wanderer.

Your eyes widen, the surprise making you flinch before quickly composing yourself. You turn around to face him, feeling your heart already begin to beat faster when met with his presence. It hurt.

You see him cross his arms, looking at you with scrunched eyes.

“Oh,— nothing,” You quickly say, “I was… doing some commissions until I had to fight off some hilichurls.” You lie.

The Wanderer breathes out a small sigh, taking a moment to inspect your poise before uncrossing his arms and speaking, “Alright then. You just didn’t look so good,”

You nod, reasonably understanding why. “No need to worry.” You say brightly, giving him a smile.

Thankfully, the wind had already taken the flower petals away, otherwise the odd pile might have seemed weird.

“So, what are you doing here?” You curiously ask.

“Not much. The traveler requested to meet me.” He answers, eyes drifting off as a hint of bashfulness uncharacteristically cracks through his manner.

He clears his throat, eyebrows slightly furrowing. You cough a bit.

“I see,” you grin, though you feel unsteady at his answer. Just because of it, you can feel your stomach stir with uneasiness while your chest tightens.

“Well, enough of me taking up your time then! Go see her.” You laugh, patting his shoulder. He scoffs.

“Exactly what I was about to do. See you.” He says, turning around and walking off. His hat jingles, leaving a lingering trail of his showing. You call out a last “bye”, to which he doesn’t mind.

You stare at his back as he leaves— and you’re sure your gaze is full of desperate yearning.

That’s that, you try to tell yourself. But it just really hurts. Simple as that.

With one last heavy sigh, you place your hands on your hips, looking up at the clear sky.

It was probably better to go do something instead of mulling over it. Right— you had planned on going to the Akademiya to try and do some research about your condition. You didn’t want to go to a doctor, firstly because the sickness seemed acquainted with your feelings, and secondly because you didn’t want anyone else to potentially find out.

You start making your way towards Sumeru City, traversing through the land’s greenery while your mind stays busy thinking about Wanderer.

It’s been like that for quite some time— ever since you met him, he’s been lingering in your thoughts, and you’ve been trying to get closer to him. Though you did to an extent, you wanted more.

It felt as if a needle pricked your heart for every thought you had of him. Thinking about him with anyone else but you was dreadful. Your heart begged you to stop— to focus on what’s ahead.

Without even realizing it, you finally reached the city. Your attention was finally brought back to your surroundings once you heard the bustling vendors, lively restaurants, and scholars discussing academic matters.

The smell of food coming from nearby restaurants was tempting, but you figured it would be better to do research now and eat later.

You make your way over to the House of Daena, promptly beginning to browse the vast bookshelves. There were quite a few Amurta students gathered around the shelves you were looking through— reasonably, since the Darshan was tied to biology and medicine.

After some perusing, you ended up with about 3 stacked books next to you. A lot of the terms in these books confused you, but the indexes were very helpful while looking for this disease. Many books you went through didn’t even mention anything similar to your condition, which was frustrating.

But finally— you find it. Hanahaki Disease, the text read, seemingly originating from Inazuma. You read with great interest, carefully going over the contents.

There wasn’t as much information on hanahaki disease as there was on others, but with what you had to work with, it was sufficient.

It was a condition that slowly killed someone whose affection for another was not returned. Your eyes widened, your breath growing heavy. You were right— it was tied to these hopeless feelings.

Then… what were you supposed to do? Unrequited love couldn’t be fixed with medicine— not any surgery, or antidote could help. Love is controlled solely by the heart of the beholder.

You gather your initial thoughts before continuing.

Hanahaki Disease, a chronic condition caused by deep, pristine love which is not returned. These unreciprocated feelings are the root of blooming flowers in the bearer’s lungs, slowly killing them until it becomes too much for the body to handle.

You continue reading on, flipping the page curiously. You let out a relieved sigh once you see that the remaining information is about possible ways to make the condition go away.

The text read, “With today’s known information, two solutions are available; the safest option is allowing the patient to let go of their feelings before they are killed,”

Right, as if you could do that. Much easier said than done. But it’s not like the author would’ve known about your love’s severity.

Sighing, you continued, “whilst the other option includes a surgical procedure, in which the blooming Hanahaki flowers will be removed directly from the patient’s lungs.”

Your heart sank. “The surgical removal is a dangerous procedure that must be taken with caution. Following the removal, the victim will also lose their romantic love for the object of affection.”

Seriously— this was your other option? You can’t go through with that! You’d probably die anyway… there's no trustworthy surgeon you know who could do it privately for you. Especially considering the after effect, it just didn’t seem like a doable solution. Love is something you hold so closely. The concept that turns existence into life. But did that really mean that it’s something to die for?

Your emotions swelled, causing a fevered feeling in your stomach.

What would Wanderer do if you died?

You flinch as you ask yourself that repulsive question, immediately beginning to cough. Hastily, you bring an arm up to cover your mouth. Ragged breaths leave your mouth as you cough up a few petals, a bitter taste on your tongue despite its sweet appearance.

Although you were alone in a secluded space, you don’t want to disturb anybody else. Covering your mouth, you let out a few little coughs before regaining your composure and cleaning up the sickeningly beautiful flower petals.

Your fingers carefully turn the page, hoping for more information, but there was nothing. Unfortunately, it seems like the disease didn’t have as much research done.

With lots of heavy feelings on your shoulders, you close the book. An uneasy sensation swirled in your stomach knowing you had a big choice ahead of you— a choice of life or death.

As you put the book away, you realize you got a bit too busy with your findings to acknowledge your body’s needs. Your eyes are tired after being glued to the book for so long, and your stomach feels empty. It was time to get food.

It was as if an aura of misery surrounded you as you walked through Sumeru City. It was only evening, and the sky was painted with orange hues, but the feelings towering over you made the air around you feel gloomy.

And yet, you try to think positively. Wanderer and the traveller aren’t completely official… so you might still have a chance! If you could just be a bit more charming— do a bit more, maybe there was a small possibility that he could think of you more fondly?

…

You plague yourself with these unconvincing thoughts, squeezing out all the hope you have left.

After all, you only had two other options that wouldn’t even suffice.

A familiar scent grabs your attention as you’re walking— a delicious aroma surrounding you. Your eyes find the same restaurant you considered stopping at earlier, a reminder of your mission for food.

Languidly, your legs drag on as you enter.

“Hello, there! What’ll you be having today?” The tavern owner, Lambad exclaims. His voice is warm and friendly.

The environment helps you relax— the energy is cozy and comfortable, soothing as you think about what to get as you sit down. “Hmm…” Your eyes scan the menu, looking for something easy to eat while staying within your budget. “I’ll just have a shawarma wrap.”

With a nod, Lambad leaves to begin preparing your food. You relax into your chair, finally being able to decompress in the flavourful aromatic atmosphere. You’ve always enjoyed eating here, because not only did they serve amazing food, but the tavern itself was like a cozy, inviting home space.

However, it did feel a bit lonely. You notice these odd feelings of isolation once you listen in on others conversations— academics, gossip, small talk, the usual. Normally, you would also be here with at least one other friend, happily chatting it up. Occasionally, even with Wanderer. But right now, you were filled with bittersweet feelings of lonesome comfort. Bittersweet because he wasn’t here with you, and comfort because it’d also be painful to have him near.

Lost in your thoughts, you ease into your surroundings, until you hear a particular jingle in the air.

It’s an immediately recognizable sound which makes you sit upright. Turning your eyes to the restaurant’s entryway, you see just what you suspected. The perfect, breathtaking Wanderer, alongside an equally as desirable blonde traveler. He holds the door open for Lumine, trailing her as he walks in before taking her side.

It’s a small action, and yet it has an effect. Such simple mannerisms make you reflect– has he ever held a door open for you? Follow you like he follows her? No, it’s the little things that are different. Different because of his love for Lumine.

You’ve always been taking the lead, so he hasn’t had to go out of his way for you at all. In that way, he has been following you, but not like he follows her.

When the Wanderer accompanies you, he’s focused on anything else in front of him– the area’s surroundings, any enemies, or events. It’s not at all like the way his eyes follow Lumine’s presence. Or how he tries to hide his enamoured gaze. How he goes along with her no matter the occasion, compared to mostly hanging around you because he was asked to.

Such a simple sight was enough to make your stomach swirl. You quietly get up, forgetting about your food as a bad feeling of turmoil begins churning. The two don’t even notice as you scurry past them– too involved with each other to concern themselves with the busy atmosphere.

The late evening’s cold air hits your face as you hastily run out the door. It’s refreshing. It’s the perfect renewal of fresh air after feeling so suddenly alert. Another sigh leaves you feeling breathless as you begin walking through Sumeru City’s uncommonly calm streets.

Aside from the occasional hum of vendors or laughter from children staying out too late, you’re once again left with your thoughts. Love was consuming you badly, destroying you as it whirled around your insides– literally.

A nauseous feeling circulated from your head towards your stomach, making the environment spin.

Not wanting to make a displeasing scene in the middle of the city, you make your way out of civilization, retreating to the forest. As if your body had a cue, flowers began expelling out of your stomach through your mouth.

Everything feels dizzy— you can’t tell if that little squelching sound is you or the greenery you’re destroying as you grip the ground beneath for support.

It feels gross. A sharp taste burns on the back of your throat while bittersweet petals continue passing up.

The rush advances quickly, leaving you breathless and panting on the ground. You crouch over the ground, barely able to hold yourself up.

The exhaustion is too much, making you simply lay on your back, having only the day’s late stars to comfort you. A rustle of wind passes, which makes you feel a bit better. Still, the remaining unsatisfactory taste and burning in your throat doesn’t ease up much.

—————

i’m sorryuuyyyyy.,, i seriously don’t know where to go with this and i’m lwk tired of it cuz i wanna write some fluff :’D

so kind of an open ending but i’m also up to writing any suggestions!!

[b3ach-bunn7]

THE CUT THAT ALWAYS BLEEDS

Keigo Takami is in love with you, and you don't love him back

Hanahaki disease, angst, fluff, workplace romance

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Keigo starts his morning the same way he has for the past two months, by coughing up a handful of bloody petals.

It splatters against the pure white of his toilet bowl, and he watches, knees digging into the floor and hands grasping the lid as they wash away, the water turning pink as the red petals disappear. It’s disgusting, really, the way he’s sprawled on the toilet floor, and on any other day he wouldn’t even consider touching the lid of any toilet, even his. But he doesn’t care, because the pain in his chest is aching, and his lungs burn as tries to breathe in, and Keigo cannot stop thinking about you.

The first time he’d coughed up a petal, it was after a week of pain. He thought it might just be the flu, or some other illness he’d caught from flying around in the cold winter winds. But then one night it had reached its peak, and Keigo was in slight disbelief at the red rose remains in his hand after he’d coughed his lungs out. It was small and bloody. He didn’t know what to think of it, so he didn’t. Maybe he swallowed something when he was flying, who knows. It wasn’t anything to worry about, he decided.

And then it happened again. And again. And it’s been happening ever since, now two months later, only getting worse and worse as the days go by. It was only after a week that he looked up his symptoms, the flowers and the blood and the constant pain in his chest, and the internet said there was only one thing it could be. 

Hanahaki disease. It originated in Japan, apparently, and was rare, but real. Keigo skipped past all the useless information to find what he really needed. He found it’s a disease where someone coughs up flowers due to unrequited feelings for somebody. And he knew, the minute he read those words, that his unrequited feelings were for you.

Keigo had never loved anyone in his life. Not his parents, for obvious reasons, and his training at the Hero commission had meant that he had no time for it anywhere else. Not that there was anybody in there to love, anyway. And now, as a Pro hero with his own agency, he didn’t want love. It complicated things, and he was in no position for a relationship anyway. He barely had time for himself, so how could he deal with a relationship? So Keigo filled the empty parts of himself with meaningless sex with whoever he found. At parties, at award evenings. It was just the physicality of it, skin on his own. He craved it and got it where he could. It pissed his publicist to no end, but they usually kept quiet, and scandals always did good for the agency. 

And then he met you.

His assistant had quit. Something about better opportunities, work closer to home. He had flashed her his best smile, sent flowers to her home, and waited dutifully in his office for you to walk in the next day. And you did, perfectly pressed shirt and black skirt, smiling so sweetly at him and introducing yourself, and he knew it was over. 

It’s not his fault. What couldn’t he love about you? You were funny, you were kind. You brought him breakfast every morning and started leaving a pillow and a blanket in his office when you knew he’d come off a night shift. You actually spoke to him like he was a person, not Hawks, not the Number two hero. It didn’t take long for the feelings to start but he thought he was pushing them down well enough.

These flowers tell him he’s not. 

He flirts with you, and the two of you joke around, but nothing ever comes of it because he knows you don’t like him back. And even if you did, Keigo would never do you the horrible favour of burdening you with loving somebody like him.

Keigo sighs, pushing himself gingerly to his feet. He clears his throat and it stings from the acidity of throwing up. He moves on autopilot, shrugging on his coat and typing the laces on his boots. His mind races with thoughts of you, of how long he has left. The final stages are apparently whole flowers and he ignores the voice in the back of his mind that says judging by what he just coughed up, he’s getting dangerously close to the end.

The weather outside is cold and bitter. Keigo hates winter, hates how he has to bundle to avoid the sharp, piercing wind whenever he flies. It’s harder to patrol in the dark and you’re less likely to leave the agency for your lunch break, so it also means he can’t use it as an excuse to take you out. He steps out on his balcony, sliding the door behind him, and he shuts his eyes.

Sometimes he thinks in another life, he’d tell you. In another life maybe he was just an assistant like you, someone normal, someone you deserved. That after his shift he’d get to come home and you’d have cooked dinner or he’d bring home takeout. He craves normalcy, to have a home with someone, and he can’t help but dream it’s with you.

He slips his goggles on and pulls up the gaiter around his neck. He steps forward and with one strong flap of his wings he’s in the air. 

The flight to the agency doesn’t take long. Nothing really does, to be honest. He’s not patrolling today but he still keeps an eye on the ground, the sky still dark as the world wakes up around him. He lands deftly in his own office, and the wide windows being pushed open already lets him know you’re in the building too. He runs a hand through his hair, quickly checking his reflection to make sure he looks good. He does, obviously, but he can’t help but worry. There’s a familiar knock on his door, and you don’t wait for him to let you in before you enter.

Today, you’re wearing a long pair of trousers that hug your legs, the white blouse you have on buttoned up apart from the top two, a small sliver of skin exposed to show a small gold necklace he got for you at a Christmas party, holding two coffees.

His heart pounds and he coughs into his sleeve. Your eyebrows furrow and you step forward, empty hand reaching out.

“Are you okay, Hawks?” You ask, and he nods.

He clears his throat, swallowing away the feeling prickling it. He nods, flashing you a toothy grin. “Yeah, now that you’re here.”

You roll your eyes but he doesn’t miss the small smile on your face as you set his drink down on the table. He takes a long drink of it and you wince.

“God, I don’t know how you drink that. It’s more sugar than coffee.” You scrunch your nose and he shrugs.

“I need the energy, babe, you know that. All that flying around burns calories quickly.”

One of his feathers shuts the window, another two hanging up his coat. Your eyes follow quickly. He might be trying to impress you a little, but it’s been a long enough time of you watching this show that he’s sure it doesn’t do much. The skin tight thermal might, though. He may or may not be flexing a little when he stretches, but he doesn’t see any harm in that. 

You nod, pulling out your phone, eyes quickly averting away from him. “Okay, so. Luckily for you, today is just paperwork. No energy necessary.” You sigh, sitting down heavily. “I hate paperwork days.”

He knows exactly why. The long, tired hours of writing and reading. Anyone would hate it, but Keigo? Keigo loves paperwork days. A whole day with the two of you in a room? What couldn’t he love about that?

He sits down across from you. It feels a little weird, too formal, with you across his desk. He doesn’t use it much. His office is pretty empty. There's no decorations, no plants, nothing. It's empty because Keigo doesn’t care. He doesn’t like this office. The only thing he likes about it is that it’s the place he spends the most time with you. He wishes you were closer.

He coughs. There's a familiar feeling itching in his lungs and he begs to a God he doesn’t know that he won’t throw up flowers in front of you.

“Aw, come on. Paper days are fine. And I’ll order food for us later.”

You perk up at that. “Really? Let’s get yakitori.”

“And this is why I love you.” He coughs again and you peer at him.

“Are you okay? You keep coughing today.”

He nods. “Don’t worry about it, babe, I’m good.”

You keep looking at him. “If you’re sick, go home.”

“No, I’m fine. The number two hero doesn’t get sick.”

You don’t look convinced but you hold up the first set of papers. His fingers brush against yours as he grabs them. The two of you sit in silence for all of five minutes before Keigo groans. You look up, amused.

“I’m bored.”

You sigh. “Me too. But as your assistant I have to tell you to keep going.”

Keigo pouts. You tap the pen in your hand against the desk.

“No way to get out of this?” He says. “Nope.”

“No work parties I can look forward to?”

You shake your head. Then you sit up suddenly. “Wait. Oh my god.”

Keigo sits up too, immediately mirroring your panic. His wings curl out behind him. You cover your face with your hands.

“What? You’re freaking me out, Y/N.”

“There is a work party! Tonight. That I’m supposed to be planning. And I completely forgot!” You groan.

Oh. That’s easier to deal with. “It’s fine, don’’t worry. We’ll sort it.” You shake your head and it ruffles your hair, and he wishes he could reach forward and brush it behind your ear. “No, I don't know what to do. It’s for Kaylee’s birthday! Everyone loves Kaylee, I love Kaylee, that’s why I offered to plan this for her.” You ramble.

Keigo catches most of your babble. He quickly moves off from behind his desk to stand in front of you, his hands coming to rest at your shoulders. “Breathe, girl.”

You do, chest moving up and down slowly. Like this, with you still seated and him standing, he towers over you. He thinks for a moment.

“Let’s just go now.”

“What?”

“We’ll just go get the stuff you need right now. Shouldn't be too much, right?”

Your eyes glance at the paperwork on the desk. “What about all that?”

He hums, and you look up at him again. This close, Keigo can see you so much clearer, so much brighter. Another cough rumbles in his chest and he ignores it. “We can do it another day. Blame it on me.”

You bite at your bottom lip, considering his offer. You stand up and nod, determined.

“Okay. Okay, let me get my coat. I’ll meet you at the front desk.”

And then you’re out before he can say another word.

—----------

Keigo thinks this is torture. Real, honest to God torture.

You’d refused his offer to fly to the marketplace, so now the two of you were just walking down the street. He’d left his feathers at work, and changed into the most civilian outfit in the agency. It always felt weird without them on his back, the heavy weight something he’d been used to since he was born. But for you, Keigo thinks he might set them all on fire. 

What makes everything worse is that you’re walking with your arm linked in his. You had been since you’d walked out the agency, animatedly talking and pointing at the things around you. It was hard to focus on much when your fingers squeezed his bicep every time you saw something you liked. 

“Okay, so. I need a cake, and decorations. And like, snack food.”

He nods. “Yes, ma’am. Can we squeeze lunch in there?”

“There’s always time for lunch, Hawks.” 

The first stop the two of you end up at is a supermarket. You pass him a coin to grab a shopping cart and he immediately starts running around with it, and you tut.

“Hawks, enough. People are looking.”

Your words should sound annoyed, but there’s a soft fondness behind them that has his head reeling. You take the cart from his hands and he lets you walk ahead, because the feeling that he’s started to dread builds in his torso, and he grabs the tissue out of his pocket and he coughs.

It’s loud and grating and it scratches the back of his throat. He’s lucky that there’s nobody around to see him gag into his hand, the petals tickling as he spits, blood splattering against it. He breathes heavily, once, twice, and tears prick at his eyes. He curses, eyes screwed shut. Not today, not like this. Not when he finally has a day alone with you. He throws the tissue in the trash outside the shop, and goes in to find you.

He finds that grocery shopping is fun. He’s never actually been before. His groceries are kindly delivered by the Commission straight to his front door, so he’s never actually done this before. It’s exciting. He likes the little line you get between your eyebrows whenever you get annoyed at him for putting random things in the basket.

“Hawks, enough! We don’t need six loaves of bread!”

“We do! We can make those little hors d’oeuvres with like, pesto on them.”

You mumble some choice words under your breath, putting them all back. “Hawks, this isn’t some Hero commission party. We’re getting a bag of Doritos and dip and calling it a day.”

Keigo pouts and you drag him over to the basket. “Here, you push this.”

You take him to the produce aisle and he boos as your throw in a few vegetables sticks. Keigo gags again, holding up the celery sticks. You snatch them out his hand and toss them back in the car.

“Stop. We need something healthy so we can eat a carrot stick and feel good about the cake I’m going to buy.” You tap your head knowingly and he grins.

“I don’t look healthy enough as is?” He stretches out his arm and the windblower you’d found for him in the agency billows around his arms.

You snort, patting him on the chest. “Oh, yeah. You look great.” 

It leaves him winded, just for a second, and then he’s back.

The cake aisle is his favourite one. You steer him clearly away from the children’s cakes, because he’s sure you saw the light in his eyes when he noticed the Marvel cake. 

“Can we get chocolate?” He asks, and you shrug.

“I don’t know. You know what Kaylee likes?” You step a bit closer to the shelves, peering at the different boxes.

Keigo hums, tapping the corner of his chin. He walks around the cart until he’s right next to you. “How about that? Red velvet. And it looks cute.” He points to the one near you, arm reaching over and brushing against yours.

“Hm. Yes. That’s- Yes. Red velvet.” You nod.

Keigo glances at you and he finds the two of you are closer than he realised. He thinks if he leans in just slightly you’ll be kissing. He smiles, soft and sweet. 

“You look pretty this close.”

“So I look ugly from afar?” You joke, but you sound nervous.

Keigo's eyes dart to your lips. It’s so quick but he sees the way your cheeks flush. “You never look ugly. Don’t I compliment you enough?”

You shove him away softly, reaching for the red velvet cake.

“Enough out of you. Go grab candles.”

And Keigo does, in the next aisle over, and hopes you can’t hear him coughing up another handful of petals. 

———

The two of you finish up quickly, despite Keigo’s efforts to long out the day as much as he can. The coughing only gets worse, and he’s surprised you haven’t noticed the amount of times he disappears to hack up his lungs around the nearest corner.

But it’s fine, he tells himself. This is about you, about helping you. He can deal with this problem later. 

You, who are sitting across from him in the tiniest table known to man at his favourite yakitori place. Part of him is a little annoyed about the whole ‘civilian disguise’, because whenever the owner sees it’s him he always gets a few extra sticks. But he can’t complain. Your legs are touching his, seeing as you’d shoved the both of you in the farthest corner of the shop possible. Which also happens to be the smallest in the shop.

“Okay, so, when we get back I’ll set up everything and we’re done!” You speak around a mouthful of food, chicken almost falling onto the table.

He nods, mouth also full. “Perfect. And you’re sure you don’t need help setting up?”

You shake your head. “I should be good, there’s not that much to do.”

You place the now empty stick on the table, dusting your hands. “Thanks for this, Hawks. Really.” 

He just smiles. “Don't mention it. Anything for my favourite assistant.”

“Aren’t I your only assistant?”

“So? You’d still be my favourite if I had more.” 

You snort, picking up another stick. “Sure, sure.”

The grocery bags crinkle beneath the table. And like this, without his wings and without any eyes on him Keigo can be selfish and pretend like this is real. 

You glance around the restaurant. “I like this place. Why haven’t we come here before?”

Keigo shrugs, polishing off another two sticks. “It’s usually busy around our lunch time. We should come more though.”

You nod. “Definitely. There’s this ramen place too, we should go there. It’s by that supermarket we went to.”

It’s so casual, so calm, and his heart is racing. 

“Oh! I found this song. I think you’ll like it.”

You dig in your purse and pull out the same ratty wired earphones he makes fun of you for everyday. He rolls his eyes and you glare at him.

“No. Shut up.”

“Just let me buy you a nice pair of AirPods, babe. Seriously, these are dying.” He flicks the wire that’s covered in tape and you tut, pushing his hands away.

“Never. I'm a wired earphone supporter till I die. Come here.”

You scoot your chair closer to the table, but they don’t really reach. “Fuck. Okay, wait.”

You stand up, dragging your chair so it’s right up next to his. You sit down, and your hand comes up to brush his hair out of the way so you can press the earphone in his ear. And if you see his breath hitch you don’t say anything. Just hit play, your own earphone in.

And the pure bliss of having you this close, close enough that he can smell the sweet scent of your perfume, lasts about a minute before he starts coughing.

He reels it back as much as he can, wincing as he swallows the petals that try to crawl their way out his throat. He drinks water, washing away the taste of metal from his mouth and he barely even registers your hand on his shoulder.

“Hawks? Are you alright?” There’s panic clear as day on your face, and he nods.

“Y-Yes. Don’t worry, I think I just swallowed a piece of chicken wrong.”

You’re not convinced as easily as before. “That didn’t sound normal, Hawks. Should we take you to the doctor?”

“No, it’s fine, babe. I promise.” 

He holds up his pinkie. You just stare at him for a moment, eyes searching for a lie. But you seem to believe him, because your hand comes up and your finger curls around his.

——-

The party is going well, he thinks.

Kaylee looks happy. You did well with the decorations, as best as you could do with an office room and an hour. There’s pink balloons and streamers that Keigo wants to scream that he bought with you. But that’s stupid and desperate, so he doesn’t. 

You’d all sang and cheered as she blew out her candles. She looked nice but Keigo couldn’t keep his eyes off you, grinning so hard it was like your face was about to split in half. People were milling about now. Keigo likes to think he knows all his employees but he’d be lying if he said he recognised every face that had come to greet him.

There is one face he could recognise anywhere.

“Birdbrain! What are you doing here?”

Rumi’s voice is loud and full of energy, and he can’t help but mirror the grin on her face the second she claps him on the back.

“It’s almost like this is my agency.” He raises his eyebrows. “What are you doing here?”

“Kaylee and I know each other from ages ago. She used to intern when I was working with Best Jeanist.”

Keigo nods. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a guy approaching you. One of the office workers he can’t name. His wings are back on his body and he wishes he could send one over to listen to what you’re talking about.

“But- Are you even listening to me?” Rumi says.

“Yes. I am.”

“No. You’re not.” 

Rumi follows his eyeline, to where you’re handing out slices of cake. She nods, understandingly. “I see. Have you asked her out?”

“What? No. Why would I- She’s my assistant.” Keigo splutters.

Rumi laughs, clapping him on the shoulder once more. “Oh, Hawks. Has positions of power ever stopped you before?”

Keigo frowns. “No, it’s not like that. I’m not trying to just hook up with her.”

“Oh.” Rumi looks at you again. “You actually like her?”

“Yes. No. It’s- It’s complicated.”

Rumi hums thoughtfully. The two of them were quite blatantly staring at you now, and Keigo is sure you’d be quite weirded out if you caught them. But he doesn’t need to worry about that, because your attention is stolen away by some guy. Keigo doesn’t even know his name because he’s some irrelevant worker that doesn’t even matter.

But he seems to matter to you. Because you are smiling and laughing, and you nudge his shoulder when he says something Keigo itches to hear.

“Well. Maybe try telling her. She won’t wait around forever.” Rumi nods towards you and he shakes his head.

“That’s… I don’t- Just leave it.” Keigo’s voice sounds bitter in a way he’s not used to, and Rumi peers at him.

“Birdbrain? You doing okay there?”

He’s not. How could Keigo be doing okay, when Rumi is annoyingly right? You won’t wait forever. Keigo doesn’t even have forever. He has a few weeks left if his research is correct. And for some dumb reason Keigo didn’t seem to think about the fact that he might live to see you with someone else.

You move slightly closer to him, and Keigo’s fist clenches. 

He doesn’t even know the guy, but can he be surprised? You’re perfect, you’re you. It makes sense that he’s not the only one in love with you. Keigo sees the hand this guy places on your elbow, the way he smiles at you whenever you laugh. He knows that look because it’s how he looks at you everyday. 

And then it starts. Slow and slight. It stirs in his lungs, just a tickle, but he knows, he knows what comes next.

Rumi notices the way his face pales, and she shakes his arm. “Hawks? You’re freaking me out, what’s wrong?”

And he tries to answer, but all that comes out is a choking noise he can’t even recognise as a sound his own body made. And the feeling builds up all too quickly, and Keigo thinks he might be dying. He’s rushing out the room to try and make it to the bathroom, but he doesn’t make it further than out the door, because the pain in his chest is splitting, like somebody is trying to push their way out of his skin. He drops to the knees and he clutches at his stomach, and he coughs and coughs and there’s blood, and there’s flowers now, fully grown flowers-

And then everything goes dark.

——————

Keigo opens his eyes to the bright white ceiling of a hospital room. It’s not something he hasn’t seen before, and the slow blink back to life and the few seconds of peace before the pain kicks in are always the worst. He blinks harshly before slowly, slowly sitting up, arms almost buckling from his weight. 

He hates the weakness that comes with injury, the embarrassment. If he was still training at the commission they would’ve sent him back on the field before he’d even gotten up. But, he doubts he’d have gotten a disease quite like this over there.

It’s only after he’s pushed himself into a sitting position that he sees you. 

Arms crossed as your head leans back against the wall behind you, asleep. He has no idea how long it’s been, but judging by the fact you’re still wearing the clothes you were wearing in the office, he assumes it’s the same day. He glances out the window and its pitch black.

And you look beautiful. Even with the mascara smudged beneath your eyes, the worry on your face even visible in your sleep. Keigo looks away, but not before you wake up and catch him staring. You blink like you might be dreaming, before you bring your chair closer to him.

“Hawks. You’re- You’re awake.” You whisper the words like if you say them too loudly they might not be true.

He smiles as best as he can. “Hey, pretty. The party still going on without me?” He tries for a joke but your eyes prick with tears. 

“Don’t. Don’t joke right now. Nothing about this is funny.” You sound serious in a way he’s never heard before, and some sick, twisted part of himself is giddy that it’s all for him.

“You promised you were fine.”

Keigo wants to turn away because the hurt on your face is his fault.

“I’m sorry. I just-“ He sighs. “Did you see?”

“Yes.”

“Did anyone else see?”

“No. Rumi stopped them from coming out into the hall.”

He nods. You shake your head, hand coming up to rub at your eyes. 

“How long has it been?” He asks.

You check your watch. “It’s one in the morning so. About six hours.”

Keigo falters. “Wait- You’ve been here for six hours?”

You frown. “Well obviously. I- They said I’m your emergency contact. And someone had to be here to tell you what the doctor said.”

He knows already. From the sharp pain in his chest he knows.

“I’m assuming you know it’s Hanahaki?”

He nods. You nod.

“You-“ You curse. It takes a few moments for you to get the words out.

“He said you don’t have long. The petals, he said they’re starting to look like flowers. Fully grown ones. And that means you’re in the final stages.” Your voice cracks and Keigo thinks he might throw up again.

“Okay.”

You pause. “Okay? Is that all you have to say? Okay?”

Keigo frowns. “Y/N, I-“

“Do you not get it, Hawks? You’re going to die. He says you’re going to die if you don’t either tell the person or- get the surgery done.”

Keigo shakes his head immediately. “I’m not doing the surgery.”

Your lip quivers and you pull yourself even closer. Your hand grabs his and it’s cold where his is warm, and you squeeze. 

“You have to, Hawks. The world can’t lose you. I can’t lose you.” You whisper.

And your words sound so raw, so vulnerable, and it tears at his inside more than the roses growing inside them.

“Just try. Try, okay? Tell them how you feel and see. It- It might be reciprocated. It definitely will be. I mean, who wouldn’t be in love with you?” You laugh wetly, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

But there’s something else behind them.

Jealousy.

And there’s a small flicker of hope that grows beneath his bones. And he looks at you then, at the tears that gather on the bottom of those fluttering eyelashes. And he reaches up, brushes the curve of your cheek.

And your breath hitches. He feels the heat on your face from how close he is, and he thinks he might cry.

“It’s not fair.” His voice sounds so weak, so awfully weak and he wants to scream. 

“What is? What’s not fair?” You ask.

“I can’t tell her. I don’t deserve her.”

You look so confused. Like he’s said the dumbest thing in the world. “What?”

“I’m not- I work almost everyday, and when I am off I’m too tired to do anything. My place is more of a prison cell than an apartment. I- I’ve never even been in a relationship before. Never even thought about it. I can’t- I’m not allowed, Y/N.”

And now his voice cracks and your hand squeezes tighter. And his voice sounds unfamiliar. This desperation, the frantic panic that fights against his words is so unlike him. Keigo has never been vulnerable with anybody in his life, but that look in your eyes makes him feel like he can tell you everything. All the dirty horrible secrets he keeps locked inside himself.

“It’s not fair. I don’t know if I can even be there for someone. It’s why I never said anything, I didn’t want to mess up a relationship that’s so important for me for one I can’t even commit to. It’s not fair on you, Y/N. You deserve better.”

He feels like there’s a weight that’s left his shoulder when he finishes speaking, rambled words he can barely remember. He’s out of breath when he’s done. Waiting anxiously for you to say something. Maybe this real version of Keigo is too much for you. He has half a mind to tell you it was just a joke, he didn’t mean it if it means you’ll stop looking so shocked. Keigo just needs you to say something.

“I deserve better?”

He doesn’t expect that. “What?” He says, confused.

You swallow roughly and he watches the sharp lines of your throat as you do so. “You said ‘you deserve better’. You as in, me. As in… I’m the one you have feelings for?”

Shit.

“I- Did I say that? I think it’s the medicine, it’s making me all-“

“Are you in love with me, Hawks?”

The room isn’t silent. The machines he’s hooked up to all make a low humming noise, and he can hear people and nurses walking and talking outside. But when you say those words it feels like the world has stopped. 

He could lie. But Keigo won’t get the surgery, so he figures he might as well let you know how he feels before he dies.

“Yes.”

You freeze for a moment. Then your hands come up to cover your face and he immediately misses the contact. And then your shoulders start shaking and he thinks you're crying.

Keigo sighs. “It’s not that awful of a thing. No reason to cry.”

“I’m not crying. I’m laughing.”

When you look back up at him there are in fact tears running down your face, but you look happy. And hope claws its way out of him.

“This funny to you?”

“No. Your stupidity is, though.” 

Keigo is quiet for a moment, confused. “Do you mind elaborating on that?”

“Hawks, do you think it’s normal that I do all your paperwork with you? Or that we get lunch together almost everyday? Do you think any other assistant in all of Japan would stay as late as their boss, especially when he’s a top ten Pro hero who rarely finishes before ten in the evening?”

“I-“

“Do you think it’s normal that I wear this necklace you bought me everyday?” And you reach into your shirt and pull it out, the gold catching against the light.

“Hawks, I spend every waking second I’m in that agency with you if I can help it. I’ve had job offers a million times better than what I do for you, and I’ve rejected every single one because I wanted to be with you.”

Keigo doesn’t say anything. You grab his hand again, but it feels a little more threatening this time.

“You don’t get to decide if I deserve you or not, I do. It’s- I can’t believe you. I don’t care about all that. We’ll figure it out together.”

And Keigo just closes his eyes, because this can’t be real. He must be dreaming, because Keigo doesn’t get things like this. Love. Nothing like that look on your face that’s all for him.

“You sure you're not just saying this because I’m dying?”

And you laugh, and let your tears fall freely, and Keigo can finally breathe clearly for the first time in months.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

this is for lysa if ur anyone else stop reading...?

JKKKKK guys i love hawks so much i can't explain... he was my lover for so long i miss him

also i loved writing this i literally did it in ONE NIGHT?? plz give me more ideas pookas

LOVE U ALLL HAVE A GOOD NIGHT

[sinnabarmoth]

These Roses Have Thorns

Pairing: Sylus x Fem|Reader

Summary: Reader has feelings for a man she met at the arcade named Sylus. There are two major problems though. 1. He has feelings for someone else. 2. This means you've contracted Hanahaki disease. Could having a crush be any worse?

Content Warnings: Adult language. Kidnapping. Descriptions of coughing up flowers.

Length: 6k

So you had worked at the arcade for a while now. It was a pretty easy job as jobs went. You restocked claw machines, vending machines, disinfecting joysticks, made sure floors stayed swept and that kids weren’t climbing into through the claw machine flaps to steal toys. For the most part you were behind a desk just people watching.

You saw a lot of couples come in and out, playing games and acting all adorable. It made you long for something like that. You had been single for a while now and the desire for a boyfriend got stronger and stronger every time you saw another ridiculously cute couple come in.

There was this one girl you saw come in a lot. She was always with a different guy though. All of them good-looking. You thought that maybe she was a serial dater or maybe she just had three different boyfriends that she was cheating on. Maybe she was just friends with all of them and you were reading too much into it. It was hard to know for sure because she was so stinking cute and the guys she came in with her were all drop dead handsome.

They spent most of their time at the claw machines winning prizes. After a while you stopped blinking an eye when she came in with the blond then the purple haired guy then the serious looking dark haired man every week. Whatever their relationship was, it was none of your business.

Then one day someone new walked in. You were sure you had never seen this man before. He had silver hair, blood red eyes, and had on dark clothes that stood in stark contrast to the peachy pink interior of the arcade. He spotted you staring and walked up. He was also tall as could be, easily dwarfing you by a good few inches.

“Can you exchange these bills for tokens?” his voice was a smooth and rich baritone that made your toes curl in your shoes.

“Oh uh,” you forced yourself to stop staring and take the bills he held out for you. “Yes. Right away.” You turned, heart hammering hard in your chest as you stuck the bills in the coin machine behind you and exchanged them for a huge bucket of tokens.

“There you are.” You set the bucket on the counter. “Sure is a lot of tokens, planning on playing a lot of games?”

“There’s a certain plushie that a friend of mine wants. It’s apparently a limited supply stock so she was adamant about getting it, but she also got called away on work suddenly. So here I am.”

“Oh! The cake bunny one? Yeah, we don’t get them in very often.” You couldn’t deny you weren’t tempted to steal one for your own plushie collection back home. “Well, sounds like you’re a very good friend. I wish the best of luck to you.”

“Thanks.” he took the bucket and went over to the claw machines. From where you were stood you could keep an eye on him, and you were more than thankful for that. He was definitely not bad to look at.

You watched him for a while, trying and failing over and over to get the plush he desired. He was having good luck accidentally grabbing other ones though. You did end up having to go over and talk to him when you noticed him use an evol on the machine.

“Sorry sir, no evol influence with the machines.” you said, scampering up to him. “Company policy.”

He sighed, looking in at the glass case and recalled his evol. “This bunny is proving far more difficult to get than I anticipated.”

“You got a lot of others though.” you picked up one of the little stuffed bumblebees. “Even if you don’t get the bunny you can shower your friend in all these.”

“She has most of them already.” he poked the bee you were holding. “If you want any of them, feel free to take them. I’ll have no use for them.”

“Really?” you squeezed the bee plushie to your chest.

He smirked. “Of course,” he leaned in closer so he was almost nose to nose, “If you can do me a favor and look the other way on this evol business. What do you say?”

Your face flushed and your heart went racing again. “Oh uh…” you looked away. “I mean, it isn’t like I’m losing money if you end up getting the toy. Just don’t be obvious about it, okay?”

He chucked you under the chin. “You’ll see that I can be very stealthy, no one will ever know about this. Your understanding is greatly appreciated, have your pick of the lot, honey bee.”

Did he just call you honey bee?

He turned back to the game, his evol re-emerging to help move the cake bunny plush into a better position. You were stuck for a moment before remembering yourself and grabbing two other plushes from down by his feet and carrying them back to the desk.

You glanced back over your shoulder and saw that he was watching you with a satisfied smile. A tickle fluttered in the back of your throat and you coughed lightly to dislodge it, though it did nothing of the sort.

The day continued on and soon it was time for you to start locking up. Unfortunately for him, that guy was still at the claw machine. He was hitting his head off the glass and looked about two seconds from breaking it and just grabbing the plush.

“There is no way that this isn’t rigged somehow.” he said. “There just isn’t a way I can be this bad at getting one stupid toy.”

“Well, you got one more token.” you handed it to him. “One last chance and then I gotta lock up.”

“Lock up?” He looked around at the abandoned arcade. “How long have I been at this?”

“Long enough that it’s night now.” you gave him a little pat on the back. “Come on, one last try. You got it.”

He sighed and put in the last token. “You can do it! I believe in you!” Maybe a little cheering would help.

He gave a wry smile and moved the joystick so the claw was over the toy once again. He hit the button and lo and behold the plushie stayed! It dropped down into the chute and the lights flashed as he finally won.

“Three hours…” he took the plush out of the machine. “She had better appreciate what I went through for her.”

“I’m sure your friend will. Now come on, I was supposed to have this place locked up a half hour ago.”

“If you closed half an hour ago why didn’t you kick me out sooner?”

“You had been at it for so long and you didn’t have that many tokens left so I decided to just leave you to it while I did some cleaning.” you shrugged.

You left the arcade and locked the door behind you. Then cursed when you realized it was raining. Walking back to your apartment was going to suck. Why hadn’t you brought an umbrella?

The man went to a motorcycle parked by the curb and got on. “You waiting for someone?” he asked.

“No. I think I’ll just wait to see if the rain lets up any.”

“Do you need a ride?”

“Oh no, I couldn’t impose.”

“You let me cheat at the game and kept the arcade open late for me. I can give you a ride home, I have an extra helmet.” he opened the seat and fished out a helmet.

Your heart did another pitter patter in your chest. “You don’t mind? I don’t want you to have to go out of your way.”

He rolled his eyes and tossed you the helmet. “Get on the bike, honey bee.”

“Okay. Thank you.” you pulled the helmet on. He sat you on the seat of the motorcycle and told you to hold on tight so you didn’t fall off.

You gave him the address for your apartment building and he drove straight there. It was nice getting a ride but because it was on a motorcycle you were still getting drenched by the rain. Finally you made it back to your apartment and got off the bike. “Thanks again,” you said. “Um…sorry I don’t know your name.”

“Sylus.” he held a hand out.

You shook it. “It was a pleasure.” A crack of thunder made you jump. At the same time your phone beeped with an alert. Automatically the emergency alert started playing.

“Severe and unsafe weather conditions. All citizens are encouraged to stay inside. Roads experiencing flooding. Drivers are advised to pull over and remain where they are until the storm has lightened at eleven PM tonight.” the automated voice said.

“Sheesh.” you looked at Sylus as he prepared to get back on his bike. “Hey! You heard that alert the same as me. You shouldn’t be driving.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Famous last words.” you stormed back into the downpour and grabbed his arm. “It’s not safe. Please. Come inside, just until the rain lessens.”

He considered you for a moment. Something in your eyes must have resonated with him or maybe he was pitying your pleading look but he got off the bike. “Lead the way.”

This…probably wasn’t a good idea. Then again none of the choices you were making tonight were necessarily good considering that you didn’t know this guy. You watched him fail at a claw machine for a couple hours, that was it. And from that you decided to keep the arcade open late, got on his motorcycle, trusted him with your actual home address, and were now inviting him in. You didn’t get a vibe that he was someone who was going to hurt you but if your friends could see you right now they would yell at you for letting a strange man into your apartment for an indefinite amount of time!

Well too late. You were in it now.

You walked up to your apartment and let him. Your immediate course of action was to change out of your wet clothes and into dry ones. When you came back out of your room Sylus was still standing in the entry way dripping wet.

“Oh shoot, I forgot you were also still soaked.” you shoved your wet clothes in the laundry. “I think I have something you can change into while I put those clothes in the dryer.”

“And what do you have that you think will fit me?” he asked.

“I’m pretty sure my ex-boyfriend left some of his sweats here when we broke up. Let me go find them. If you want you can go to the bathroom and dry yourself off, I’ll set the clothes outside the door.”

He nodded and went into the room you pointed to. You fished around in your drawers finally finding a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt your ex had missed when he was packing. The pants may be a little short on Sylus and the shirt was definitely going to be a bit snug since his chest was a lot broader but it was better than nothing. You set the clothes outside the door to the bathroom and went about wiping up the puddles of water while you got the kettle boiling. Rainy nights were a good time for hot tea and instant ramen.

The door to the bathroom creaked open and Sylus came out wearing the dry clothes. Like you thought, they weren’t a perfect fit but he didn’t look uncomfortable in them.

“I’ll just take those.” you grabbed the wet clothes and tossed them in the dryer. “Do you want anything to eat or drink? I was making some tea and ramen for myself if you wanted anything. Pretty sure I have some leftover curry too, some snacks, anything sound good?”

“Tea is fine.” he said.

You nodded and poured both of you cups of tea. There was a bit of an awkward air around you two as silence descended. You decided to have mercy and turn on the TV to distract yourself. After your ramen was done you both went to sit on the couch and watch whatever was playing.

As the storm raged on outside you found yourself becoming more and more at ease with your guest. The conversation wasn’t groundbreaking or anything but it was pleasant. He was pretty funny when he wanted to be. Time passed and you barely even noticed when the rain finally let up. It was nearly midnight when your phone alerted you that the streets were safe for drivers again.

“I’ll be taking my leave then.” Sylus said, “Thank you for inviting me in.”

“No problem. Thanks for the ride home.” you pulled his clothes out of the dryer and handed them to him. “Did you want to change back before you left?”

He shrugged on the jacket. “No. This will be fine. I need to get going sooner rather than later.”

You walked him to the door. “This has been a pleasant evening, more so than I was expecting.”

“Glad to know I was a good host.” you beamed. That tickle in the back of your throat had been getting more persistent all evening and you cursed as you turned to hack into your elbow again.

“Sounds like you should have gotten a hot shower when you came home instead of playing hostess.” Sylus said. “Can’t have you getting sick.”

“I’m not sick, I just think there’s some dust in my throat or something.” you wiped at your watering eyes. “Stay dry out there. Good night.”

“Good night.” he nodded and left.

Once the door had closed a large dopey smile had grown across your face. This evening had been so nice! He was really cool and kind and interesting. Not to mention pretty darn handsome. You were afraid you had made your mooning over him obvious by the end but he didn’t seem to have noticed. Probably too distracted by your annoying cough to realize you were gazing at him like a lovestruck school girl.

Maybe fate would lead him back to your arcade another day. You’d be brave and ask for his number if that happened.

You went to bed with your head full of fuzzy warm dreams. You were probably asleep for an hour or two before you woke up again coughing like mad. You could feel something caught in your throat. You know you could! Oh god, were you going to puke?

You swung out of bed and ran to the bathroom coughing and coughing and coughing until your throat was raw and your eyes watered so much you couldn’t see. When you peered down into the toilet bowl you saw a splash of red and your blood went cold. Oh no…was that blood? Were you coughing up blood?

You wiped the tears from your eyes and saw the red spot was not blood at all but instead a bright red rose petal. “Oh shit…”

~~~

The next couple days you could not stop thinking about that damn flower petal. Of course the second you developed a crush on a guy it would turn into Hanahaki disease! Hanahaki was annoying disease that was caused by a metaflux fluctuation hundreds of years ago that had permanently altered human DNA. So now, anytime someone fell for someone who did not reciprocate that feeling they coughed up flowers.

Your life wasn’t in danger. Hanahaki was an annoying chronic disease that lasted so long as you had feelings. You could opt for surgery to have it removed but it was still experimental. You knew that early surgeries had resulted in the patients being unable to fall in love at all after completion. Newer surgeries had seen progress where it just removed the inability to ever develop romantic feelings for the person you previously liked again which was a lot more doable.

Most people just lived with it until they finally had their hearts move on or if their unrequited love turned into an actual love match. The ratio of people who contracted Hanahaki and those who actually got with the person they had feelings for was not great. Then again, you checked five different medical websites and numerous forums and results varied wildly from place to place.

So you were just stuck with this. Coughing up stupid red rose petals again and again, all because you had the gall to like a guy. What a cruel world you lived in. It was absurd! You met the guy once! Spent a couple hours chatting while watching TV and that was it. What were the chances you were ever going to see him again? You just had to wait this out until your heart forgot about him.

Did suck to know that he must not have felt anything for you either. You had really thought you had some kind of connection.

A few more days went by and the cough wasn’t letting up. You didn’t want anyone at work knowing so you lied about having a slight cold and wore a mask to avoid questions. It was another normal day when you heard the door open. Glancing up from your notebook you saw who had walked in. Sylus!

The tickle in your throat started up again. A faint ray of hope shone down on you before being immediately crushed. Right behind him was that girl. The one that you saw coming in all the time with the other good looking guys. She was all oblivious smiles as she tugged on his arm towards one of the claw machines and you watched as Sylus’s expression softened at her touch, letting her pull on him toward the line of machines. It was the same look you had seen on every other guy that came in with this girl. You had seen enough love struck couples walk in and out of here to know exactly what was happening. He liked her.

She was the one that he had spent all that time and money on to win that stupid cake bunny plushie, wasn’t she? Fuck!

This girl had four different guys falling all over themselves and you couldn’t get one guy to look at you! This was beyond unfair! Why did it have to be this guy? Why did she have to add Sylus to her little harem? Would she not be satiated until she had every single good looking guy in the city fawning over her?

You took a deep breath in through the nose. You needed to stop. She was just a girl. Not her fault she’s cute and pretty and stuff. And Sylus didn’t owe you anything. He was just a stranger who had given you a ride home and made small talk with you for a couple hours. That was it. Still, it hurt. You turned around, coughing violently until you felt the wet velvet of a flower petal on your tongue. You tugged the mask down to spit out the petals and dropped them in the trash. This was a nightmare.

“Um…” you turned around at the sound of someone clearing their throat. It was the girl again. She gave you a bright smile. “Can I get some tokens please?”

“Yeah. Sorry about that.” you pulled the mask back up and exchanged the bills she gave you for tokens.

For the next hour or so you watched as Sylus and this girl went around winning prizes and playing games. You heard them mention getting lunch somewhere as they strolled to the exit. At least you didn’t have watch them any more.

As they were leaving though you saw Sylus turn his head and made direct eye contact with you. You straightened automatically. He gave you a polite smile and then he was gone with the girl.

You sighed. “I’m just an idiot, aren’t I?”

The day came to an end and you locked up the arcade. When you turned around you noticed a motorcycle pull up by the curb. He driver lifted the helmet off and you saw it was Sylus. “Glad I caught you.” he said. He fished something out of the storage compartment of the bike and held a bag out to you. “I washed the clothes you lent me. Here you go.”

“Oh,” you took the bag. “You really didn’t need to give them back. Not like I was going to miss them.”

He shrugged. “I don’t like being indebted to others.”

“Well, thanks.” you rocked on your heels. As he was pulling his helmet back on you felt a question flying off your tongue before you could swallow it back down. “I saw you come into the arcade earlier with a girl. Is she the friend you spent all that time winning that prize for?”

He looked up surprised. “Yes. She was very happy to have the toy but thought me ridiculous for spending so long to get it.”

“It just shows you’re persistent.” you forced a saccharine smile but realized he couldn’t see it behind the mask. “So is she like your girlfriend?”

“No.”

“Oh.” That made you feel a little better. “Then is she dating someone?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“It’s nothing. I just see her come in a lot with other guys and I figured one of them had to be her boyfriend.”

“Ah,” he nodded, “I have a feeling I know who you are talking about.”

Silence descended again. You wished he would just drive off so you could stop yourself from asking questions you knew would hurt you. “So…do you like her?”

“Yes.”

You swallowed back the urge to cough and throw up an entire bouquet of red roses. It felt like the roses in your lungs had spread to your heart and were constricting it with their thorny vines. One word from him and he had devastated you in ways you didn’t even know possible.

“Cool.” you said, your voice tight with control. “Well, good luck with that.”

You turned and started walking down the street, needing away from him before you did or said something else idiotic. Unfortunately he was not letting you off that easy.

“Do you need a lift home?” he called after you.

“No thank you. It isn’t raining tonight.” you said.

“But it is late and you don’t exactly live in the best part of the city.” he said, keeping pace with you on his motorcycle.

“Not as bad as the N109 zone at least.”

You could sense him watching you and when you turned to look at him he had the visor open and was giving you an unimpressed look.

“What?”

“I live in the N109 zone.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It isn’t for the weak.” he parked. “Now hop on already.”

Despite your best judgement you found yourself replying, “Fine.”

He dug the spare helmet out and passed it to you. You hopped on the back of the bike and held onto him as he drive you home once again. Without the rain pouring down on you, you could focus on the ride more. The lights of the city flashed by you so fast they looked like ribbons trailing behind you. Then there was Sylus who was so warm against you. You wanted this drive to never end.

When you got to your apartment building you handed him the helmet back. “Thanks again for the ride. Now I owe you one.”

“I’ll be sure to cash in in the form of you looking the other way when I use my evol to win arcade games.” he said with that smirk that made your insides melt and your lungs constrict. “Now go inside, turn on your light so I know you got in.”

“How like a mother hen of you.” you teased. “See you.” You bounded up the steps and got to your apartment. You turned on the light and went to the window. You saw Sylus down below give you a thumbs up and then he drove off.

The moment he was gone you doubled over and started coughing again, more petals falling from your lips. “These feelings aren’t going away any time soon, aren’t they?”

You were right. Your feelings did not go away as you had hoped they might have. After that night he drove you home again your feelings only continued to grow. This strange little thing became a more common occurrence.

Sylus would come by the arcade with the pretty girl every once in a while to play games and such. Then when evening came and you were locking up, he’d be waiting on the curb to drive you home. You tried not to think anything about it. Tried to tell yourself that he was just being kind. That he was just doing it to keep you in his good graces so you didn’t fine him for using his evol on the machines.

But the hopeless romantic in you saw something else in all his little gestures. Sometimes you would invite him in for coffee or tea and he’d join you for a bit inside. You’d chat as you sipped and then he’d have to leave. Most of the time when you got back to the apartment he’d stay outside and wait for you to turn on the light before driving off. But even that little act of making sure you got inside safely made your heart flutter.

Your weird little friendship was only making you fall harder and harder. And the harder you fell the worse the Hanahaki got. You had finally hit the stage where instead of a couple of petals you were coughing up entire rose heads. Thankfully they were small buds and not huge in full bloom blossoms but it didn’t make them hurt less.

Somehow you had gotten away with keeping your Hanahaki a secret from Sylus. You knew it was only a matter of time till he figured it out though. You had barely been able to cover your tracks and you could tell he was getting suspicious.

Finally you realized that you had to just bite the bullet and tell him about your feelings and the Hanahaki. You knew the chances of him reciprocating were slim to none. He had feelings for someone else but at least it would be off your chest. Maybe then you could finally move on.

It was another day and once again Sylus had driven you home. You turned to go inside but stopped and steeled yourself to tell him how you felt. When you looked back at him though he was tapping his finger quickly on the handle of the bike. “Something wrong? You look antsy.” you said.

“I’m just in a bit of a hurry.” he said.

Your heart clenched painfully, or maybe that was your lungs. “Going to meet your little girlfriend?” you teased, despite the ache in your chest.

He scoffed, “You don’t want to know my business, honey bee. Now head inside.”

“Alright. You get going if you’re in such a hurry.” you ushered him off.

He glanced at his watch and sighed. “Yeah. See you later.”

He took off down the street going far faster than the speed limit allowed. One of these days you were going to have to talk to him about not speeding. Even if he did have some kind of weird advanced healing factor it wasn’t safe for others for him to be going that fast.

You sighed. Your lungs ached as another flower decided it wanted to pop out. Fuck!

You coughed your way up the stairs to your apartment, finally spitting out the little red bulb. Did it look more in bloom than normal? “Well that’s just great.” you muttered. “Guess that’s my punishment for not saying anything. Maybe next time.”

You automatically reached to grab your key from your bag and immediately realized you had left your purse in the storage compartment of Sylus’s bike! Damn it! You grabbed the knob of your apartment door, knowing it wouldn’t open but frustration wanted you to try. You turned the knob and…the door opened! Did you forget to lock it before you left? That was careless but fortunate.

You stepped inside trying to figure out a way to tell Sylus he had your purse if you didn’t have your phone. It was probably why you didn’t notice the shadows at first. Not until you kicked off your shoes and your brain caught up, making out three large figures clad in black standing in your living room.

“Don’t make a fuss and this won’t be a problem.” one of them said.

You immediately turned to run back out the door but the figures lunged, grabbing hold of you before you could turn the handle. Someone hit the back of your head and it made you so dizzy you pitched forward, eyes rolling back into your head.

You couldn’t say when you came to again. There was some kind of bag over your head and you were aware you were in a car, could feel it bumping along down a road. Your head ached and you felt a stickiness at the back of your neck that you couldn’t discern as being blood or sweat. When the car came to a stop you were pulled out and walked somewhere. Even with the bag over your head you felt yourself swaying with dizziness.

Why was this happening? Were you being kidnapped? Trafficked? For what reason could someone want to kidnap you from your home?

You were sat down and tied to chair before the hood finally came off. You could tell pretty instantly you were in some abandoned old factory building. The figures that had kidnapped you were standing around you, two were men and one was a woman.

“What…what is going on?” you said, forcing your thoughts to stay straight. “Why did you kidnap me?”

“Don’t worry,” the woman said, “We’ll let you go once your boyfriend pays the ransom we send.”

“Boyfriend? I don’t have a boyfriend.” you told them.

“You do.” one of them, a burly building of a man, gruffed at you. “No point trying to play dumb.”

“I’m not playing dumb. I don’t have a boyfriend. Whoever you think I am, I’m not the person you’re looking for.” you snapped at them. “Please, just let me go.”

“We saw him drop you off.” the woman said. “The leader of Onychinus.”

You wanted to question what they meant by Onychinus, you were sure you heard the name before. You were bad about keeping up with the news so you couldn’t say what it meant at the time. It was the other part that caught your attention though, they said they saw your boyfriend drop you off at your house.

Oh dear god above! “You mean Sylus?” you asked. Their gazes hardened.

“See. You do know who we are talking about.” the woman nodded to the more wiry man on her left. “And you wanted to grab the other girl.”

“Sylus isn’t my boyfriend you idiots!” you seethed. At the same time the statement made your lungs spasm. Shit! Not this too!

“We’ve been tracking him for a while and we have noticed time and time again that he drives you home, even comes inside. There’s no point denying it.”

“I’m not denying him taking me home. I’m denying him being my boyfriend. We’re just friends.” coughs wracked your body. You gasped around the flower pushing itself up your throat. “We’re--we--” more coughs shook you, “are nothing. I mean nothing to him.”

“You can say that as many times as you want but we know--”

The woman was cut off as you finally coughed up the flower and spit it onto the floor. All three of them froze as you took in ragged breaths.

“What the fuck is this?” the wiry one kicked the flower. “Do you have Hanahaki?”

“What gave it away, dumbass?” you muttered. “I told you. He’s not my boyfriend. I like him but…but he doesn’t like me. He has feelings for someone else.”

“Shit!” the woman continued to curse. “We grabbed the wrong one?”

“Told you.” the wiry man said.

“Shut it!” the woman snapped at him.

“What now, boss?” the burly man asked. “We can still try ransoming her if they’re friends.”

“You think he’s going to care that much about her worthless little life? There’s every chance he’ll just let us kill her if we send him a ransom.” the woman tsked. “Might as well keep ourselves off his radar until we get the right girl. Let’s just kill her now and move on.”

“Wait!” you screeched, “Wait please! You don’t have to kill me! I promise I won’t say anything if you let me go. Please!”

“We’re not taking that chance.” she leveled the gun she was carrying at you and a loud bang echoed in the room.

You closed your eyes, tears streaming down your face as the realization hit you that you were going to die in the moment. Was this really how it ended? Executed over a case of mistaken identity and a crush on a guy you met at work?

You waited and waited for the bullet to strike but you didn’t feel any pain. Maybe she shot you through the head and didn’t even get a chance to feel the pain. Maybe your brain was stretching out these last couple of seconds of your life. Maybe you were already dead.

Then you heard more loud bangs and your eyes snapped open. You were still in the warehouse. You weren’t dead! But then what--

You looked up and saw that Sylus and the pretty girl from the arcade were there. The three people who had kidnapped you laid on the floor, whether they were unconscious or dead was unclear. There was a tiny clink of metal and you saw a bullet fall to the ground and roll towards your feet. Had it just stopped halfway?

“You check her, I’ll get these guys.” the girl said and leaned down to check the kidnappers for a pulse. You really needed to learn her name at some point.

You felt the restraints holding you loosen and fall. Sylus walked over and knelt down in front of you. “You alright?”

“I…” without the restraints keeping you up you fell forward. Sylus caught you and sat you down on the ground. You relaxed into his arms, taking several deep breaths to still the shaking. “Sorry. What happened? How did you know I was here?”

He held up your purse. “You forgot this in my bike. I turned around to run it back to you and saw a van careen away from the apartment building. When I went up to your apartment the door was open and the inside looked like it had been ransacked. So, I called in some back up and found where that van had taken off to.”

“She a co-worker of yours or something too?” you asked.

“We actually operate on opposite sides of the law.” he shrugged. His gaze went to the flower on the floor. “What was this for?”

Your face burned. There was too much going on right now.

“Honey bee,” he turned your face to his, “Why did they kidnap you?”

“They thought I was your girlfriend. They wanted to ransom me back to you.” you said. “And the flower…I coughed it up.”

“You have--”

“Yes.” you almost wished the bullet had killed you so you didn’t need to have this conversation. “We don’t need to get into it.”

“Hanahaki is nothing to be embarrassed about.” he said. He glanced over at the girl who was stepping away to make a call for backup to come arrest the kidnappers. Sylus looked back at you, talking quietly. “I had it too.”

“Really?” you should have guessed as much considering how much he seemed to like this girl.

“I was coughing up bleeding hearts for months.” he sighed. “They’re small but still not fun to constantly be coughing up flowers.”

“You said you ‘had’ it. Does that mean pretty girl finally returned your feelings?” you could feel an entire bouquet of flowers about to erupt from your throat just thinking about it.

“No.” Sylus answered.

Your eyebrows shot up on your forehead. “Then, you got the surgery?”

“Also no.”

“Then what happened?”

“I…” he held you a little tighter, “I started coughing up pink peony petals instead.”

“Hanahaki can just change flowers in the middle of the disease?”

Sylus shook his head with a dry laugh. “No. As far as I am aware, the flowers are individual to the person the unrequited love is for.”

“Then who is it that you…” realization and a spark of hope started to rise in you.

He gave you a small smile. “I think we have a lot to talk about, honey bee.”

[valeriele3]

Yellow Carnations

A Hanahaki disease + SAGAU/Cult AU

Notes: Wanderer will be called Wanderer, or you can imagine the name you gave him, and Traveler will be referred to as Traveler since no one knows their real name except their sibling (and maybe Paimon?). Sorry this is rushed

A story where ones hope to love another turns hopeless.

"Traveler, can I.. tell you something?"

"Hm? Of course!"

You whip your head around to make sure no one else but the traveler can hear and whisper to their ear, "I like Wanderer."

The Traveler's eyes widen at your sudden confession and excitedly say, or rather, exclaim, "You do!?" She laughs bubbly. "I knew it! Sooo, when are you planning to confess?" They ask, their eyes practically sparkling.

"C-Confess!? No, no, no. I can't do that. Or at least, not yet!"

"And why not?"

"I don't even know him that well; I doubt he even remembers me."

"As if. you're practically hovering around him 24/7. I'm sure he remembers you. I would even go as far as to say that he likes you back!"

"Really? You think so.?"

"Mhm! If he didn't like you, he would've told you so, harshly, or even ignored your entire existence."

"Then..do you think I have a chance? You're really, really~ close to him, right?"

"Hmm~..Yeah?"

"Wha, so I really don't have a chance..!"

"Kidding, kidding, I think you have a high chance."

You continue to panic inside and overthink the possible endings if you were to confess. The traveler, noticing this, tells you, "How about this? I ask him if he's currently into anyone and maybe even pry enough to get him to say the name, ahem, your name, ahem."

"Really? You would do that for me?"

"Of course, you're my best friend."

"Of course I like, no, I love them. That isn't even a question worth answering; it's a given." Wanderer rolls his eyes and walks away to who knows where.

After waiting until the man was gone, you slowly walk out of your hiding spot, bubbling with joy. You and the traveler share a look and high-five each other.

After finding out about Wanderer's feelings for you, you consistently hung around him more; he always acted annoyed, but it wasn't any different from past interactions you've had with him.

You figured that this truly is just how he shows affection, somehow, like a tsundere!

And so you bid your time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to confess.

And when the time came, you faced a great humiliation.

It turns out he wasn't in love with you at all. No, he could never fall in love with someone like you; he said it himself after all.

You felt sick in your stomach, like it was churning, your throat was aching, and it felt dry.

While it was true he loved a Y/N, the Y/N he loved was not you. He loved the Creator.

How did you not know about this Creator? They even have the same name as you.

Wait, no, something's weird. What's this about a creator? You don't remember Teyvat having anything like that.

But before you could ponder anymore, your train of thoughts was interrupted by a coughing fit, covering your mouth with your hands. You tried to stop coughing, but the itching feeling was too much to handle.

Cough

Cough

You pause, 'petals?', where did the petals come from? There's no flowers around you

Clutching your hand, you began to spiral in your thoughts.

D̵̢̟͔̱͕͑̍͒̋̔̊̽́͝ǫ̷̧̧̜͍͖͎͕͉́̓́̍͜ ̶̻̲͛̀͛͑̒̾̕͝y̵̹̮̖͊͊̍̄̔͠ơ̵͇̺̯͓̗̫̜̝̆̌̏͜͝ú̵̪͚̫̬͈̙̭͈̙̈́́̌͗̐̂͋̓̔̈́͑̓͠͝ ̷̨̧̩̠̱̘̳̜̝́̐̉̅̐͗͒̏͗͝r̵̛͉̃̂̎̾̋̎͆̎ę̴̧̧̛̛̪̱̜̞͚̦̘̳̙͙͉̄̇̋͋́͑̓̎̌͜͠͝͠ṁ̶̡̢̬̤͖͙̪̟̰̹͇͕̹̼̿͒̋̄̈̽̂̔̑͌̃̒̒͜͝e̵̖̻͚̝̦̘̤̓̒̉m̴̢̝̝͈̭͙̯͚͊̀͐̍̊̈́̚͘ḇ̶͉̬̖̅͒̂̽̔̆̊̆́͒͑ͅe̸͙̞̭̮̽͌̀̓̈́̎͂r̷̻͓̠̬̖̙̗̺̥̹̺̠͕̄͊̀̀̑̔͛̃̀͋͗̀͘͝ ̶͔͕̽͒̓̈́͋́̒̒̓̚í̶͍̺̣̞̟͐͐ͅt̴̹͐̎̾̃̚͝ͅ?̴̘̥̫̲͈͉̊͗̉̇̆͆͛͑̾͘͝ ̷̹̝̝̳͔̪̖̩̜͍͚͇̀̀͘H̶̫̺̿̅̍́̽̃̇͋͗a̸̧̢̢̢̛̯̮̫̩͙̠̫͔͙͔̔̀͊͒̾̆̽́n̴̨̞̬̾͜ą̶͙̥̥̻͎̼͂̓h̵̫̤͚͖̙̐á̷̧̧̪̥̭͖̂̂̐̔́̊̐͜͜ͅk̵̘̰̎̓̇͗͆͗́̿̈͛̀͠͝ͅi̶̛̳̍̈́̚ ̸̧̲̘̰̯͓̈́̓́͊͂́͊Ḑ̶̼̰̰͍̫̗͔̩̣̤̻̝̮̲͛̾̑͠i̶̧͖̪̋͌͌̒̔̉͐͋́́͗̿͆̅͠ş̶̲̬̦̺̖̀̒͒͂̆͛ę̴̡̝̳̩̝̹̥̯͇̮̻̪̟̬͑̑͐ằ̴̡̡͎͓̬̱͚͎͈̯̦̇͒̅͊ś̸̢̧̺̘̜͇̰̯͚̦̉̉e̵̡̡̤̙͖͉͍̝̭̞̝̓

"Y/N?"

The traveler spoke

"Are you alright..?"

Silence

The Traveler kept calling out to you but received no response.

'Ah..'

'My head..it hurts..throat..water..'

"Y/N?"

'Is someone calling me..?'

"He— Y/N!"

Thud

Opening your eyes, you see an unfamiliar ceiling above you.

Now on alert, you begin scanning your surroundings.

Creak

Surprised by the sudden sound of the door, as if by reflex, you quickly pretended to be asleep, just like the times you pretended to be asleep when you still stayed at your parents house when you were younger.

"Oh, you're awake."

They begin to move closer to you, and your breath hitches, but you remain unmoved.

"Chill Y/N. It's just me."

Now able to listen to the voice more clearly, you realize it's the Traveler.

Slowly opening your eyes, you're greeted by the sight of Traveler smiling at you beside your bed.

'I knew the traveler was good-looking, but damn. Imagine waking up to this sight.'

"Here, drink some water." The traveler offers, and you reach for the water in their hands, of course, saying thank you in the exchange.

"What happened?" you ask.

"You passed out out of nowhere; oh, don't worry, I made sure to get you checked out by a doctor, and they said that you probably just overworked yourself."

"I see.."

"Oh! The petals..! Did the doctor say anything about it?" You inquire.

"Petals? What petals?" the Traveler tilts their head in confusion.

"Before I passed out, I think I coughed up some flower petals."

"Ah..you must still be a bit dazed. Don't worry, you didn't cough up any petals. And if you did, well, that's a bit worrying. We can get you checked again if you want."

You shake your head, "No, its alright, I trust you. I probably just imagined it or something.."

Deciding to trust your friend, you try to move onto another subject, "By the way, where are we? I don't recognize this place."

"Oh! We're at my teapot."

"Hmm~ You decorated this place wel—I mean, what?! Teapot!?" Realizing that the Traveler might find it odd if you don't question how being inside a teapot works, you acted surprised in the middle, hoping that the Traveler would fall for your clumsy acting.

The Traveler stares at you for a second or two before answering. "Yup! I got this as a... gift of friendship. It uses adeptal energy to maintain the place, I guess? I don't really know the complexities about this place, so you can just ask Tubby about any questions regarding this place." The Traveler explains

"Hmm..Adeptal energy, huh? I've heard of that before..Liyue, right?"

"That's right!"

As you and the Traveler engage in casual conversation, you start to feel an itch in your throat, but you decide to ignore it. It's probably just a common cold about to come.

After resting for a few days in the teapot at the behest of the Traveler, you began engaging in your normal everyday life, or as normal as it could; you no longer hang around the Wanderer and try your absolute best to avoid ever running into him. Some people either look at you mockingly or with pity. But it's fine. You don't care about them; they won't have an effect on your life.

Another thing that's different from normal, though, is the fact that you're coughing up blood-stained flowers.

You didn't know the cause; you didn't want to worry other people, so you didn't tell anyone, but you did go see a doctor secretly, although not even they could provide the cause.

All you knew was that, upon looking back, it all started with a small cough, flower petals, and then as time went on, you started coughing up petals with blood.

You were worried that the next thing that might come out of your mouth might be full-grown flowers, but surely that's not possible, right?

A/N: SO..This was supposed to be an idea post like Live Stream, but the past me decided to write about it at the time with no planning whatsoever. Even the character chosen (Wanderer) was not planned. It was originally Xiao, but I couldn't do it since the dialogue didn't feel "Xiao," so I just swapped it with Wanderer since he has a very veryyy blunt personality.

So yes, this is technically unfinished, and I don't think I'll ever get back to it if I just continue to leave it inside my drafts.

Feel free to make a fic out of this, and if you do..PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE TAG ME. I'VE BEEN CRAVING SAGAU + HANAHAKI DISEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

Additional notes regarding this fic are in the comments

[frostedclock-writes]

Crimson Magnolias

----

Alastor x F! Reader

Warnings: one-sided love, Hanahaki disease, R rated as mature themes mentioned, eventual flashbacks to Human life, Ace Alastor,

----

Part 1 (Part 2)

Whistling filled the air like a scream.

" Shit the tea!" You get off the couch and rush to the stove, though it took you a moment to tear your eyes from the T.V. screen.

You flip the dial on your gas stove and it clicked off, the whistling slowly faded. You spun and look back at the 666 News, but it barely fazed you. You could have sworn. Right before it interrupted with the 'breaking news' , a commercial. Something in the corner. A distortion.

You tasted ginger in the back of your throat.

Seven years.

It had been seven years in hell since you last saw him. No word, no explanation.

Alastor.

Your heart fluttered at the thought. He was alive. Maybe. You wished the commercial would have been let to play after the news faded away. You run your fingers through your hair as you try to recall what the commercial had been for. It had been so quick, and your attention was immediately drawn to the corner of the screen.

You took a small breath.

Some hotel....

Wasn't there some hotel that cropped up a few months ago? Happy Hotel? No that's a stupid name. Hazbin?

You pour tea into the prepared porcelain cup, it mixed the sugar and lemon juice together with the over steeped black tea. You lifted the cup up to your lips and blew softly, thoughts swirled around your head. Your throat tickled a little.

You should be pissed. He left without a word to you. Made you and most of hell believe he had been killed. Double dead. Fucking toast. You should hate him.

An image of him laughing over a cup of rye whisky was brought to mind. Back when you both were still....

He was so handsome, and knew exactly how to make you laugh. His silly puns that made you smile. The way he glided across the dancefloor and would bring you along for the ride.

You set the cup down quickly. A floating white petal with bits of crimson stained in it floated on the top.

You cover your mouth and shake your head, swallowing down the taste of iron mixing with ginger. The taste of the sweet tea long gone.

It shouldn't matter. Doesn't matter. Matters.

Fuck.

You walked into your bedroom and grabbed at the coat hanging up. You slipped it on, it covering the simple ankle length dress and button up blouse you had worn for the days errands. You sinched the tie around your waist as you stepped into your slip on flats. You moved quickly out of your house, not even nothing to lock the door behind you as you traveled down the sidewalk. You dodged sinners and imps alike on the streets, moving beneath a few swings of fists and weapons.

The streets were crazier then normal. But to be expected.

You knew this part of the Pentagram like the back of your hand, so it made it at least marginally easier to get to that strange broken down hotel. The flickering neon became visible by the time your lungs stung a little from the walk and your feet ached a little from the thin flats. You let out breaths in quick succession as you gaze up at the tall building behind walls that were tall enough to block off the view of the yard surrounding the dilapidated hotel.

Hazbin Hotel.

You stopped at the open archway that was the gate to what might look more like an old cinema building on the outside with the old ticket booth and the illuminated board that could hold the plastic letters. A little tower attachment on the side seemed haphazardly attached and like it didn't quite belong. A sign flashed in the window. It made your stomach clench.

On Air.

You slowly walked up the cobblestone path up the the doors of the hotel. You hold your breath as you reach for the handle. Maybe this was a mistake. Fuck, your already here. If he wanted to see you wouldn't he have come found you? Told you he was back?

Your throat tickled a little.

Just do it! Go!

The door opened, and came swinging out. The sting of your nose was quick, and painful as the gold painted metal trim of the door hit you square in the face. You reeled back and gripped your nose, warmth touched your lips. Great.

" Oh shit! Whatcha doin' out here, just standin' behind that door? Fuck, ya bleedin' and everythin'. "

You blink to clear the tears pricking hour eyes and you see a tall spider... Man? Very feminine man. Pretty. Was the word that came to mind. Tall, pink and dressed to the nines with heart shaped sunglasses resting above their mismatched eyes. He was digging around in a sparkly purse, he held out a wadded up napkin.

" It's .. it's fine I'm fine. Sorry. " You took the napkin and brought it up to your nose. " Ugh, gross, " you pulled it away and looked at the clotted blood. You look back up at the spider person. " I came looking for someone..."

" Oh?" He wiggled his shoulders and put one set of his hands on his hips. " Who are ya lookin' for, doll? A booty call maybe? " He cooed the last words.

You brought the napkin back up to your nose. You hoped it covered up the heat rising up to your cheeks. " No, no, nothing like that," you cough a few times, covering it up by blowing your nose shortly after. " I know this must seem odd, but I'm looking for Alastor."

He laughed. Gaffawed even. " No, really. Who ya lookin' for? Husk? He seems like he had a bad past love or two in his books, if ya know what I mean."

Husk, you remembered the gruff ex-overlord. He was kind behind that bottle of whiskey. If he was here, then Alastor...

The spider looked down at his phone as it began to go off several times in a row. He cursed under his breath and then shoved his phone back into his purse. " Look, if ya are looking for tall, dark and red flags, he was in tha parlor room last I saw him. I gotta get ta work. " He put his sunglasses down. " See ya. "

You watch him stride off, you blink and look back at the door. You step inside and the door slowly slid closed behind you. The inside was a little nicer looking then you expected, but some of the wallpaper was peeling and the carpet held stains that made you question what caused them to take such unique shapes. The faint glow of green drew your attention over towards a part of the hotel that was clearly an addition like the broadcast tower.

A bar. Neon lights flashed Jackpot and Beezlejuice on the dark wooden walls. A familiar face cleaned glasses behind the bar countertop and placed them in the shelf. His ear twitched as your footsteps approached. He looked up and at first his face held a look of irritation, then it melted into half of a smirk. A laugh escaped under his breath and he put the rag back down on the table.

" Y/N, what in the fuck are you doing here?" Husk asked.

You crack a smile. " Would you believe me if I said I came to get a drink?" You joked.

He made a scoff and rolled his eyes. The smirk faded to his usual expression. A near scowl. " I know for damn sure you didn't come here for me. " He picked up a glass and put it down hard on the counter. " You came for him."

You took a seat at the bar as the glass began to fill with a dark amber liquor. Whiskey you assumed. Or maybe a dark rum. " He's my best friend, what can I say? Though, I should be mad at him. Leaving me in the lurch like he did. Even sweet Rosie had no clue where he had gone off to."

Even the bite of the liquor didn't help with the swallowing of the lump in your throat.

Husk rolled his eyes and slid the glass over to you. " Who the hell knows, and someone like you should just stay away from him or you'll end up used like everyone else. He didn't even notice that-"

" Husk. " You snapped a little at him. Husk was always so observant.

" Look. " He set the bottle down then growled. " You know what, whatever. Why should I care if you like to torture yourself? Just shouldn't make your friends watch you do it. "

" I.... It's nothing. " You put on a smile and take another drink. " Nothing I can't handle and haven't been dealing with...."

" Heh, yeah, well someone like ya deserves better then a -"

" Y/N?"

You felt goosebumps rise to your skin at the sound of a voice you hadn't heard in seven years.

Alastor.

You spun on the stool and looked over to the source of the voice. He looked just as he always had. He strode over and you rose to your feet. You met him halfway and he put his arms around you in a warm embrace. You return it with your face planted firmly in his chest. He smelled of a mix of iron and damp wood.

"Alastor!"

You heard a gruff huff behind you and you assumed Husk was watching with that disapproving gaze you had come to expect from the winged cat sinner. Alastor's hand rubbed the small of your back before he placed both hands on your shoulders and pulled you away just enough to look down at you.

You silently begged for him to stop looking at you like that. It made your stomach flutter and your throat clench.

" It is a pleasure to see your smiling face again, my dear, quite a pleasure. " His gaze shot over towards husk, his eye twitched a moment. " How long have you been waiting down here?"

" What? Don't look at me, I'm not your fuckin' secretary. " Husk snarled and you kinda felt sorry for the glass he was cleaning. It was getting thoroughly cleaned.

" I haven't been here long! " You tell him quickly, bringing the Radio Demons attention back down to you. " Only a couple of minutes."

His body language changed and he spun on his heels, one arm around your shoulders and leading you off in the direction of the large staircase. " Ah! In that case! Let me show you this fun little project I've been working on! I think you will find the notion as amusing as I do. "

" You work at this hotel now? Didn't peg you for the hospitality type. " You tease.

His chuckles were like a radio flipping through stations. " Oh, dear, this project is mainly for my own amusement! The Princess of Hell is the one who is encouraging this notion of redemption for sinners. "

You cock an eyebrow. " Redemption like... Do well and get let out for good behavior?"

Seemed silly.

You followed him up the staircase and watched your hand as it slid up the railing for splinters from the chipped wood of the banisters. Alastor thew one hand out in a grand gesture at the lobby, his microphone materialized and landed in his hand and he smoothly used it to point.

" Exactly! But what better way to amuse myself then to watch her struggle to have sinners ditch their ways?" He tapped a finger on your shoulder.

He lead the way down one of the hallways, gold and red covered most of the hotel it seemed. Though you could tell where Alastor had began to leave his own touch behind. The hotel was grand, although from years of neglect before the current owner, there was things that would have made you cringe when you were alive. Mildew in the flooring and walls, roaches crawled out every once in a while and then sprinted off under another table in the long hallways, creaking steps going up, and bulbs that flickered in a way that hurt your eyes at times.

" Are you still working as a singer?"

You look at Alastor out of the corner of your eyes. " From time to time, Mimzy hires me most nights when I need money. Otherwise, I pick up whatever jobs I can find nowadays. " You admit. " What have you been doing these past seven years?"

Alastor seemed to grip his microphone a little tighter, though he put a laugh in the air. " Oh, I just took a small vacation. A well deserved one. "

A vacation. You didn't believe that for a moment.

" Ah, well... You could have told me some of us. I thought someone might have finally gotten he upper hand on you." You joke.

" Ahahah! Don't be silly, " Alastor shook his head and a smirk grew on his lips. " A simple sinner couldn't get the best of me. " His steps paused in front of a door, he tapped his microphone cane's end on the ground. His hand left your space and he opened the door up.

Alastor turned with the door and let you inside the room. The smell of swamp was in the air. A dank wetness with the soft smell of pines and cattails. The room turned from a study to a swamp, though you were unsurprised - Alastor knew how to manipulate a lot of things. And spaces were no different. A green fire burned in the fireplace near the two armchairs within the space of the study, it made the shadows dance on the wall as it flickered.

Alastor walked across the wooden floor towards the chair, he turned in a swift motion and leaned his hand and held his weight on the back of one of the armchairs. That smile. Does he even know what he does to you? He went to offer you a seat when his shadow grew across the ground and then swirled up. The cracked smile in the shadow brought a laugh to your lips.

Like a mist, Alastor's Shadow swirled around you. Then shifted into mostly solidness. "Shade. " You cooed the petname for the creature and reached out, it felt like cupping thick smoke, " Are you watching after Alastor for me? Such a sweet thing..."

Crackles like a dead station full the air.

You felt safer showing this part of Alastor affection. The being made of shadows and magic seemed to be something of its own and yet part of its master. You sometimes wished, just for a moment, that perhaps you wouldn't ruin the friendship between you and Alastor by just touching his cheek like this.

" Well I missed you too."

Alastor made a sigh and rolled his eyes, though the soft smile that graces his lips lead you to believe he was amused. He cleared his throat abd Shade sank back against the floorboards and rejoined his master. He gestured for you to sit in the chair he leaned against and you make your way to the plush armchair.

" Now, you have to tell me what Ive missed these past years. " He took his own seat across from you, waving his hand and two coffee appeared. His own red cup and yours a black one.

'Oh, deer!'

' Doe- re- mi '

You coughed a little and covered your mouth up. You clear your throat and bring your cup up to your lips to cover up the bitter ginger with dark black coffee.

This was going to be a lot harder than before. You thought the years apart would have lessoned the feeling you held in your soul.

He hates it. You remember him going on and on about ladies throwing themselves at his feet when the both of you were alive. You saw the disgust on his face when he mentioned it. He would hate you too. Would throw you away if you did.

You swallowed the hot liquid down hard with the lump in your throat.

He can't know. Won't know.

Ever.

Tag list: @boldlyenchantingfox22 @sirens-and-moonflowers

[lorelune]

(minors dni)

sorta hanahaki with jing yuan.

he’s caught spitting up ginkgo leaves (he has already had them in his throat, on his tongue, for quite awhile, but it’s these episodes are becoming more frequent—) tabloids run wild with rumors about the general succumbing to mara.

only he knows that he’ll die long before mara eats his mind. the gingko will never grow roots in his muscles and skin. it'll come up from his lungs and stomach far sooner.

jing yuan, as one can expect of someone so keen, is deeply aware of where his affliction stems from.

you’re a a recently-retired vagabond, a traveler. you've returned the luofu to settle down after a centuries away. you’re as enigmatic as you are charming. you've charmed him, certainly. he knows you’re settling into a new life.

there's a vivacity to you. regardless of his affection for you, it makes your life and way of living seem so out of reach for him. you feel out of reach for him. you humor him on little outings and frivolous appointments, but jing yuan never asks for more than that. not even when his gaze lingers with you for too long, or when you he itches to call you when he’s too deep in his cups. the itch under his skin blossoms into gingko flowers and third-moon leaves.

he has accepted the nature of his own affections, and the immutable truth that they couldn’t be returned. never mind how they continue to blossom within him, more and more whenever he sees you regardless of his reality.

you worry for him when the rumors start. you dote him on (you never have before, not like this—) you follow him around some days, helping wherever you decide he needs it. sometimes it's with desk work, other times training with yanqing. you even help him tend to his gardens and stock his seldom-used kitchen with easy meals.

he doesn’t think much of it, really. you’re not the only one to attempt to lend him a hand. it's just a kindness for an old man.

(in retrospect, he feels very foolish.)

one day in his gardens, after you so thoughtfully offered yourself up to tend it with him— you fall to the dirt, like you've been cut in the back of the knees. you make a sound like you're dying.

panic hits him so quickly he feels sick, a wretch working up his throat along with a mouthful of half-formed leaves.

it’s worrisome, how quickly his heart lurches and how the distance he’s maintained with you disappears. he’s at your side, a palm on your back as you cough and choke, a hand cups over your mouth.

with a final wet cough, your hand comes away to reveal a palmful of pink camellia petals, dappled with blood.

[faetima]

THE AVEN + HANAHAKI THING YESSS I'VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS FOR SO LONG BECAUSE LIKE. I know it's always super angsty when it's the reader that gets hanahaki but rine having it. imagine pushing your s/o away because you don't think you can do a relationship rn just to get hit by the stupid idiot in love disease. damn sucks to be you man

(tbh hanahaki as fun as the angst is I love aventurine so much and usually just alter hanahaki to be like less deadly because a) I DONT WANT TO BE SAD and b) the whole guilt of "I developed hanahaki because of you now love me or I WILL die" feels strange to me)(but also yum angst and the consequences of pushing someone away) ((sorry I talk a lot teehee okay bye))

𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫. 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠. .

. . too bad he wasn't your darling anymore.

// tws ; slight cursing, blood ; gn reader ; modern au, hanahaki au 

a/n: finally wrote the aventurine exes hanahaki au lol ,, had no idea how to finish this but i might make a part 2 !! :3

ever since you had started dating aventurine, you felt like you were a burden to him in some way. but you were never sure if you were actually a burden to him, or if that was your mind playing tricks on you.

but last week had just solidified your beliefs.

you both had fought over something petty--you couldn't be bothered to remember what it was--and harsh words had been thrown around in the process.

words that cut deep into you, practically making you bleed out.

and after that?

aventurine had ignored you for the rest of the entire week. he hadn't even glanced in your direction. it was fine if he needed some space to think, but he didn't even tell you, he just started fucking ignoring you.

your efforts to talk to him had just been met by blank uninterested violet eyes.

everything that happened in the last week had all led up to yesterday.

you stood in front of his door, swallowing your nerves. why were you so nervous?

after everything that happened, everything you felt, everything he said, you didn't think you could handle a relationship at that point.

so, when aventurine answered the door, his blonde hair unruly and lavender eyes tired, you took a deep breath and finally said the words you had been so scared of saying.

"i want to break up."

--

now, you were rethinking your decision.

on one hand, it felt like a large weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

on the other hand, breaking up with him had left you in your current predicament: crouched on the cold tiled floor of your apartment, hurling up bright yellow marigolds. you coughed them up, unwillingly watching as they hit your newly polished floor. they hit the ground ungracefully, clumped together with a disgusting mixture of mucus and blood. you gagged on the flowers as the sickly sweet smell of the marigolds hit you, making you feel lightheaded and sick to your stomach.

you didn't think you would get the disease again after aventurine asked you out.

you had it once, albeit briefly. it was before you had even talked to aventurine, too scared to do so. maybe it had been your shyness, or maybe you were just scared of rejection. you weren't too sure which, but it had caused you to cough out a few lemon yellow petals.

but, as quickly as the disease had started, it had ended. aventurine talked to you and started getting close to you, and your hanahaki had eventually diminished into nothing. after that, you thought it would never start again.

but you guessed you were wrong, since the disease decided to plague you.

marigold petals--slick with mucus--fell out your mouth as you coughed your lungs out. they fell almost gracefully onto the small flower pile.

you took fast and shaky breaths, collapsing. you were too exhausted to move, the hanahaki sucking all the life out of you.

--

it had been a week now, and the disease had just gotten worse. at this rate, it would only take a month or two until you suffocated on the fucking marigolds.

you could talk to aventurine, but he would probably just ignore you again.

you could get the surgery, but you would rather die than forget aventurine. you still loved him.

at this point, you couldn't do anything but hope that the disease would just somehow go away.

--

aventurine was growing increasingly worried as the days passed.

he hadn't seen you at all after you had broken up. sure, that was normal, but his gut told him something was wrong.

horrible thoughts of what could've happened to you plagued his mind, and he couldn't take it anymore.

he grabbed his keys, his coat, and headed towards your apartment.

maybe it was an invasion of privacy, but even your friends felt as if something were terribly wrong. he'd just check on you once, and never speak to you again. you'd be okay with that, right?

--

aventurine had knocked about a dozen times by now, but had received no answer.

he swallowed. he still had a spare key to your apartment, but what if you didn't want him to come in? what if you were just busy? what if he was breaching your privacy?

he took a shaky inhale.

fuck it.

--

he stepped inside your apartment, and was hit by the extremely potent smell of marigolds.

he glanced around, and froze at what he saw.

[noctxj]

hanahaki 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…”

part i / part ii / part iii / part iv

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

agent who slowly withdraws from poly!tf141 after the first episode of bloodied flowers (realising they’re in love), from declining offers to relax in the rec room, accompany them to the local pub, or even working out in the gym to sparring.

agent knows that they’re not being subtle, see’s the guys try and figure what is going on with them. but agent refuses to let them find out—never.

agent who finally manages (after ensuring they wouldn’t hack up another flower) to file a notice, a formality really, to john— captain price, for their absence in the oncoming month or two. as there are no current operations needing agents’ immediate attention, its an opportunity for agent to get their other affairs in order after months being on base with the taskforce. 

john— captain price, briefly glancing at the document before focusing his ocean blue eyes to search agents (tired) face, a frown creasing between his full brows.

pleasedontlookatme—

whatdoyousee—?

the captain getting up from his seat to circle around his desk to stand before agent, his scrutinising gaze trying to catch agents downcast eyes.

pleasejohndont—

“this wouldn’t be about you pulling away from us recently hm?”

bullseye— 

agent could feel a thorn piercing the walls of her throat, their jaw tightening in response. a reaction john notices, his face softening as he reaches out to tip agents chin back to finally see his now gentle imploring eyes.

soblue—

“just don’t forget to come back to us, okay little love?”

little love. a pet name that simon (proudly) started to refer to agent amongst the taskforce (and no one else, lest they meet ghost in the middle of the night) while the others also followed suit—

“or would you rather shorty? or tiny even?” simon had smugly responded after seeing agents offended (blushing) face.

ugh that big oaf of a man, not everyone needs to be the size of an industrial fridge—!!

johnny and kyle chortling in the background, seemingly forgetting they’re suppose to be supervising the recruits’ training.

the pinch of another thorn dragging up their throat throwing agent back into the present.

“of course, captain.”

lies.lies.lies.

⋆.✧̣̇˚.

agent whose kept a mental list of contacts who owe them favours, a debt that is finally being repaid: to find a cure for hanahaki disease. from the highest level of power and prestige in society, to the lowest trenches of the underworld. over the course of a few weeks, one by one, each contact falls short of delivering. but agent keeps digging. keeps searching.

there is never nothing. there has to be something somewhere. someone must have at least thought— until finally a contact (old friend) provides them with a lead. 

a doctor whose dedicated their life in medical research of hanahaki disease, searching for a cure— whispers that there is a cure. they’re located halfway across the world. but that doesn’t matter to agent, they’re leaving within an hour; flight booked and travel bag already packed.

washing the remnants of blood down the sink drain, tears wet on their cheeks. the episodes were happening more frequently.

agent is running out of time.

⋆.✧̣̇˚.

“… it can be cured through surgical removal, but when the infection is removed, the victim's romantic feelings for their love also disappear…”

agent feels drained as the doctors words echo in their mind even hours after agents abrupt appearance in the doctors office. one look into agents (desperate) eyes and the doctor already knew why they had come, offered tea to soothe their throat (wash the metallic taste away, even if temporarily).

agent immediately coughing out both the tea, then one bloodied rose— then two— three— and finally four, as agent reaches to rip the tangled thorns from the back of their throat, ignoring the screaming pain of thorns dragging out of their mouth and past their stinging pale lips. 

the doctors face stricken with worry and sadness, trying to wipe the blood from agents face and hands; disposing of the thorny flowers in a sterile bin. the doctor concluding that agent does not have much time to deliberate if they wish to proceed with the experimental procedure. an incredibly invasive surgery that may not completely cure the victim; follow up surgery’s may be required. 

being split open from larynx to diaphragm, sown back together, only to be split open again if a single flower is coughed back up.

agent acknowledges this. pain is pain after all—

whats more to add to the pile?

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

tric’s notes

added some dialogue in this part compared to the first part. unedited, also like the first part. i know nothing about the complexities of surgery (google images my saviour) so don’t try to make sense of it haha.

thanks for reading!! ♡︎♡︎

crossposted on ao3 (same username!)

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Stars That Shine

So it was supposed to be normal angst. And then I don't know what happened. But back to school assignments I go.

Summary: Bucky visits a grave for the last time.

The skies are grey today. Rain falls to the ground, turning the soil beneath his feet a dark brown. Still he trudges on, ignoring the way his dark brown locks plaster to his face until he reaches his destination.

He stares at the simple grey slate that is before him, inscribed with words you had chosen and traces over the grooves with a finger. His heart clenches, the words ringing in his ears, your voice whispering softly in the wind. Shakily placing the flower he had brought along on the ground, he sits in the pouring rain, hugging his knees to his chest. Silent salty tears mingle with the rainwater, streaming down his cheeks and dripping onto the dirt that swallows it all up. His throat feels raw, itchy even and he swallows a cough.

All words escape him, now that he's here. Everything he had planned to say, lost to the howling winds so he sits there, mind blank with grief. The chill bites his flesh now that you're no longer here to keep him warm, the cold seeps in and he shivers. He wants to go back to cryofreeze, to forget any of this happened but he knows you won't forgive him if he does that. You'd fought so hard to keep Hydra's tentacles from him, willingly going back would only sully your memory.

"I don't understand. You should hate me, I killed your brother."

"I don't hate you. I hate what the Winter Soldier did, but you're not him anymore. You're a different person now, for what that's worth."

He doesn't know why that memory surfaces now. It clogs his throat, causes him to tremble, causes more tears to flow unbidden and he feels himself unravel.

You were everything to him, even if he never outrightly told you that. You were his world, the single unwavering light in the darkness, the anchor that kept him grounded to the present. He'd fallen for you the moment he saw the fire in your eyes, the way you protected those you loved. Your loyalty and devotion had stolen his breath away, your kindness and gentleness had put the stars in his eyes. He'd melted every time your gazes met, frozen in time until you turned away.

Despite it all, he'd convinced himself that you hated him. He'd taken everything away from you, ripped your last living family from you. You had every reason to despise him, but even so you'd stood up for him. Sure your words were always had an edge to them, your wits as sharp as your blade but it had never truly been hurtful. You still treated him like a teammate, albeit reluctantly, and he had caught glimpses of concern sent his way before on missions that you always vehemently denied.

He never could stop his heart from yearning for you, Sam said as much. Sam enjoyed teasing him about his crush on you, intricately describing the stars in his eyes that appeared whenever he laid eyes on you until Bucky's cheeks were hot with embarrassment and the tips of his ears burned red. That always ended in Bucky threatening to give Redwing a free makeover and Steve intervening before things got out of hand.

He had never been safe from Steve's teasing either, although Steve's was more bearable. His best friend had pointed out that he was always grumpy until you showed up and suddenly he would light up. Steve had loved the way you made Bucky feel, the hope you gave him of a brighter future, although Bucky swore Steve kept talking about you like he was a matchmaker.

Bucky exhales shakily, grasping the pendant hanging around his neck tightly. You'd given it to him, saying that you wanted it back once you finished the mission. He was only to help you keep it safe until you returned, and the only reason you had chosen him for that task was because he was the only one with a brain cell who wasn't going on the mission with you.

He'd lorded that fact over Tony for the next week.

But you never came back to reclaim it. You were only supposed to be gone for a week, but one week turned to two, and then to a month and there was still no sign of you. The others had returned without you and search parties were sent out but to no avail. Anxiety gnawed away at him with each passing day, tearing him apart from the inside until he could stand it no more. He'd slipped away in the dead of night, stealing a jet to go to where you were last seen, hoping to catch a glimpse of you, to find you, return the pendant and bring you back home.

He'd gotten his wish, only not in the way he'd envisioned. He'd found you, but instead of sharp witty one liners he'd gotten the cruel howling of the snowy wind over a lifeless husk. Instead of a warm punch to the chest he'd gotten a freezing stab to the heart. Instead of hope he'd found despair.

He'd screamed his anger and grief to the heavens amidst the snow storm, tears freezing on his face the moment they were shed. He'd punched the snow so hard it left a deep indent the size of his fist, kicked the nearest tree and left his boot mark on its trunk but the agony still remained, threatening to overwhelm him. He'd cursed until he had no more curses to give, begged until his throat went hoarse but your body still lay there, as cold and unmoving as the moment he found you. He'd clawed at his own skin, drawing blood as he desperately attempted to alleviate the pain he was feeling but it only bit back harder.

He'd collapsed right next to you after that, passing out and the only reason the two of you were found in that blizzard was because Natasha had tracked the jet. He'd wished the Avengers had never found him just so that he could escape from the pain that was eating him alive but here he was — alive while you were dead. He'd have given everything to switch places with you, he deserved it after what he'd done but fate laughed cruelly at him with each passing moment, watching as a shell of a man took breath after breath even though he had nothing to live for anymore.

He didn't show up for your funeral. He'd disappeared for the days leading up to it and the week after, vanishing somewhere even Steve and Sam didn't know. He hadn't known what words were to be engraved on your tombstone but apparently you'd written them in your will.

"Not a party type?" His footsteps sound way too loud in the quiet stillness of the night.

"I love parties, that's why I'm here on the balcony instead of down there on the dance floor." Sarcasm drips from your words, making him chuckle.

"Unfortunate. Mind if I join you?" He moves to stand next to you, holding out a glass of champagne.

"You've bought however long I take to drain this glass." You start drinking, not even giving him a chance to prepare.

"Do you only ever wear black?" He blurts out, unable to formulate a proper conversation topic with the pressure nipping at his heels. It work, however, because you pause, lowering the glass from your lips to stare at him incredulously.

"Amazing conversation starter, Barnes. And no, I do not. Black is however the easiest colour to work with so it's the main colour in my wardrobe." With that you resume your drinking, draining the glass of every single drop.

"Gold would look nice on you. Or a brighter colour, at the very least." He watches you turn to leave, empty glass in hand.

"I'd look like gaudy star," you snort in reply.

"Even gaudy stars shine brilliantly in the night sky." You'd stopped in your tracks at his words, turning to look over your shoulder. That was the first time he'd gotten you to smile at something he said.

"That's cheesy, Barnes. Try again next time. Until we meet again."

He couldn't bring himself to try again. The words always got stuck in his throat and something or someone always interrupted him whenever he thought about it. So he'd watched from afar, suppressing the feeling whenever it threatened to boil over. You'd danced around him, showing hints of softness but never quite committing and he'd followed your lead, teetering on the edge until he fell.

You were the only one who saw him as James Buchanan Barnes, not the Winter Soldier, not Sergeant Barnes, not Bucky. Just plain old James, and it made him feel something he couldn't quite explain. You'd seen through the cracks in his armour, seen the real him, not the facade he put up to try and fit in with the world. He never knew what you thought of the real him, and would never know. It's too late to ask now, but somehow, he's sure he already knows the answer. After all, the answer always laid in the looks you shot him during those moments of vulnerability.

Even gaudy stars shine brilliantly in the night sky.

He traces those words carved into your tombstone once more, feeling the grooves in the otherwise smooth grey slab and coughs, bloodstained petals floating onto the damp ground.

Until we meet again.