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fox-the-artist-fruit-canid · 5 months

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defective lotus info{in spanish...} 1 out of 2

irk

el planeta de nacimiento de la raza irken antaño en la epoca prehistorica un planeta vivo lleno de toda clase de ecosistemas y muchos tipos de fauna e flora,ahora no es mas que una gigantesca pelota de metal.

irk como el nombre indica es el lugar de habitat de la especie irken una especie reptiloide,insectoide,semi anphibia inteligente que actualmente son una raza se podria decir de cyborgs,al ser una raza que usa bioingenieria para vivir.

irk con el paso de los años paso de ser un planeta errante en el sistema solar nova irkarus 720 a un planeta fijo en dicho sistema gracias a que en algun momento este se adirio al campo gravitacional del sol apodado como estrella alpha ikarus.

irk tiene alrededor de 3 lunas llamadas pendora,ignis y mortem,la principal siendo la apodada como ignis que brilla con un potente brillo rosa,mortem la segunda brilla de un fuerte morado y pendora de un tenue azul al ser la luna mas pequeña.

no se tienen muchos registros de la irk antigua por lo que no se suele tener mucho en cuenta a la hora de recapitular la historia del planeta.

mientras tanto el irk moderno es un tanto complicado.

el planeta con el paso de los años a pasado por muchos cambios,dese los campos de fuerza que rodean todo el planeta,asta el echo de que el planeta usa el nucleo del mismo como fuente de energia ademas de la electricidad.

irk podria dividirse por anillos cuales son tres la superficie,el subsuelo y el incinerador,el ultimo se explica un tanto por si solo pero es lo que a grandes rasgos esta antes que el nucleo al que se arroja toda la basura que produce irk para alimentar el nucleo del planeta y mantenerlo encendido.

los siguientes sin enbargo son un tanto mas complejos.

el segundo anillo es el subsuelo o tambien llamado la smeeteria principal,aqui es donde sucede todo el proceso de las incubadoras y la enseñanza academica basica para todos los irken.

el subsuelo esta equipado con miles y miles de maquinarias entre las que se incluyen las incubadoras y las maquinas de profesorado,ademas de otras maquinas que mantienen todo en orden como los sentinelas,tambien hay departamentos que son hogares provisionales para los smeets y sus tutores de piel y hueso.

algunas familias con smeets se quedan aqui asta que los smeet cumplan 10 y puedan salir a la superficie a su hogar actual mientras que en otras ocaciones los smeets son dejados aqui asta que los recogen a dicha edad.

eso al menos con los smeets no mutantes,ya que al los smeets mutantes ser de muy poca importancia estos pueden salir a la superficie siempre y cuando salgan con un irken adulto del subsuelo.

mas mayoritariamente estos se quedan bajo tierra asta que cumplen 10.

la superficie por su parte es donde se concentra la mayor poblacion tanto de irkens como de otras razas que viven alli ya que se les ha permitido hacerlo tras que perdieran sus planetas y tengan una poblacion menor a 50 o por ser mano de obra.

dichas razas son las 3 ramas de los artifex,los couwlek,los sraigo y los polum,estas habitan junto con los mutantes en la zona sur de irk denominada los barrios pobres o la zona sin amanecer al ser una zona que casi siempre esta en penumbra.

debido a la gran mezcla de especies hay una cultura echa a partir de todas las culturas mezcladas en una al igual,que hay un lenguaje comun conocido como joik ademas del irken y las otras lenguas que tambien da lugar al extraño acento sureño que algunas veces es algo dificil de seguir{el equivalente de unir escoces y chileno en uno}.

la zona norte tambien llamada o conocida como los barrios ricos o la zona del eterno dia debido a que siempre presenta fuertes luces neon en todos lados durante la noche que hacen parecer que es de dia.

es habitada unica y exclusivamente por irken no mutados o irkens con mutaciones de baja importancia como la variante linea linea y alis alis,mas sin ninguna otra raza presente.

en esta parte solo se habla irken y aunque tiene diversas formas de pronunciacion segun la zona,sigue siendo irken al fin y al cabo e no suele ser un acento pronunciado como el sureño.

luego esta el centro o la zona privilegiada donde solo estan los irkens de altos mandos,elites o famosos sin importar de que faccion si norte o sur,tambien es la zona donde se dan eventos importantes como la llegada de los mas altos.

irk tiene un clima particular mayormente ya que tecnicamente no hay viento como tal o al menos no vientos fuertes,mas si hay lluvia mucha lluvia,al menos el 60 porciento del tiempo esta lloviendo e cuando no llueve esta nublado o sopla el arido pero escaso viento que se levanta.

las temperaturas por lo general siempre son tibias mas pueden llegar a ser calurosas,aunque los periodos de frio son los que mas duran provocando la caida de nieve por la excesiva humedad.

la fauna y la flora son casi inexistententes en la jungla de cemento y metal mas aun hay ejemplares vivos que son resguardados o protegidos o mantenidos como mascota.

los ejemplos mas claros son los sabuesos tei tei,las aves qiwed algo similar al resultado de mezclar un alcon con un buitre y los grandes felinos xquima,ademas de los recurrentes rohedores roit-ei esto respecto a la fauna.

mientras que con la flora aun se conservan algunas especies de arboles y plantas,como la flor de las capañillas llamadoras de angeles o flor angelis,flores que florecen usualmente si alguien de la familia en la casa que se encuentra la planta muere.

otro tipo de flora son algunos tipos de frutales y vegetales autoctonos que se cultivan en la luna pendora al ser la mas apta para el cultivo de estas especies de ortalizas que son las que abastecen a gran parte del planeta.

tambien existen especies de ganado como lo son las kiba una especie de mezcla entre cerdo,vaca,cabra y oveja cuales producen todo lo que estos 4 animales dan en uno y los fei fam una especie de mezcla de pavo,ganso y gallina que dan huevos,estos son criados en mortem.

y por ultimos hay una especie de especie de pez angilla y una mezcla de salmon y atun o rifem que son criados tambien en mortem para el consumo,estos productos luego son exportados y vendidos en los mercados o tiendas.

mientras ignis es una luna que se usa para todo lo industrial siendo basicamente miles de fabricas y almacenes entre los que se encuentra la primer estacion de cuarentena aun funcional.

en ignis mayormente es donde se fabrica toda forma de tecnologia desde naves,armas y armaduras asta simples electrodomesticos,aqui tambien hay una pequeña fabrica de PAK´s que es controlada 24-7.

irk es rodeado por dos fuertes campos de fuerza que lo mantiene lejos de todo peligro,que vienen de un gigantesco anillo metalico artificial que projecta los escudos como una segunda exosfera y una segunda estratosfera,siendo el segundo campo el mas fuerte entre ambos escudos.

estos escudos permiten la entrada y salidas de naves siempre y cuando tengan un sello especial que funciona para que las naves puedan pasar,al los escudos tener una especie de detector que impiden que nada que no tenga el sello pueda ingresar.

el pasar del tiempo y los meses

el pasar del tiempo en irk es ciertamente lento con un dia que dura alrededor de 30 horas de los cuales 15 horas son de dia y las otras 15 son de noche durante ciertos periodos solo 7 horas de dia y las otras 23 horas restantes de noche o a la inversa dependiendo de la epoca.

con 12 meses de 40 dias y semanas de 10 dias e un año de aproximadamente 480 dias,cuales se dibiden en 120 dias en cada estacion,el periododetiempo en irk es bastante longevo.

de echo aunque para los irken y las razas que habitan en irk pase este tiempo fuera del planeta el tiempo es diferente por ejemplo para los humanos un año irken equivale alrededor de 12 años humanos al cada mes irken ser un año en la tierra.

los meses se llaman de la siguiente forma.premerc el mes que inicia el año,loter,shiofer,doika,okaltek,muna,kuna,irter,lunaria,soikot,jurtia y ultum el que termina el año.

Estaciones

las estaciones en irk al igual que en la tierra son cuatro mas no son del todo iguales ya que como tal no hay ni primavera ni otoño mas si algo parecido a invierno y verano.

la estacion nevada tambien llamada como crystel es carcaterizada por ser el equivalente invernal de irk,en esta estacion cae nieve a borbotones al igual que en algunas ocaciones hay granizo,las temperaturas bajan y el usualmente ausente viento sopla en una gelida brisa que cala asta el hueso.

los artifex son de las razas mas prpearadas para cuando esta temporada llega ya que son extremadamente resistentes al frio y al ambiente dificil,sin olvidar que son las unicas criaturas en irk que pueden 'nadar' en la nieve y el hielo sin dificultad alguna.

los irkens al llegar esta estacion por lo general estan mas somnolientos y son mucho mas lentos,sin olvidar que su temperatura corporal por lo general alta aumenta,muchos teorizan que si los irkens fueran una razamas pacifica seguramente hibernarian durante este periodo de tiempo.

y es que los irkens alteran su periodo de sueño y duermen muchas mas horas durante esta epoca,ademas de sufrir otras adaptaciones,como por ejemplo los irkens con pelaje crecen uno mas denso contra el frio,aquellos con alas mas insectoides que no son del tipo polilla o mariposa se caen ya que no resisten el frio muy bien.

los irkens mutados sin las carcteristicas mencionadas no suelen pasar un buen invierno en especial los de caracteristicas reptilicas,amphibias y insectoides sin pelaje,ya que por alguna razon los mutantes son mas suceptibles al frio.

la estacion que le sigue es la temporada de lluvias llamada lacrimus,como se sugiere durante toda esta estacion llueve sin descanso a veces llevando a inundaciones,el aire es humedo y hay niebla,sorpresivamente esta es la unica estacion en la que hay vientos fuertes a la par que continuamente caen rayos.

durante toda esta estacion suelen haber apagones por lo que todos los irkens y razas subyacentes tienen generadores de emergencia en caso de apagones en especial en la zona sur donde tambien hay altos riesgos de inundaciones al ser la zona tecnicamente una cuenca donde se reune el agua.

los irkens muchas veces tienen permitido quedarse en casa y no trabajar debido a los riesgos que trae esta temporada extrema de lluvias mas que nada por el riesgo de una repentina ola de agua que suelen suceder a veces,la caida de una rayo o no poder salir del domicilio por una inundacion.

los mutantes con rasgos acuaticos y los polum son los que estan mejor preparados para esta temporada al tener adaptaciones acuaticas son de los unicos que no tienes grandes dificultades durante toda la temporada.

esta es por lo general la temporada mas odiada por los irkens y demas razas en general debido a todos los problemas que trae consigo al ser una de las estaciones mas pesadas de sobrellevar.

la siguiente estacion es el contrario a una estacion humeda y es la estacion fercius esta es el equivalente a verano,se carecteriza por una intensa sequia y solo un 10 porciento de lluvia durante los 3 meses con probabilidad muy baja,es una estacion seca y arida de temperaturas insoportablemente calurosas.

los irken mutados de caracteristicas reptilicas y insectoides sin pelaje,ademas de la raza de los couwlek lo pasan bien durante esta epoca al estar preparados para combatir el calor.

mientras tanto los irkens normales y otras mutaciones la suelen pasar un tanto mal al no estar echos para el intenso calor e la casi nula pero devastadora brisa caliente e el sol intenso de esta epoca.

no es raro ver gente usando sombrillas y sombreros contra el sol o gente desvaneciendose en el medio del camino debido a las temperaturas atrosmente calientes de estas epocas.

la noche por el contrario como si se tratara de un desierto son frias y frescas aunque duran muy poco siendo esta epoca en donde sucede que el dia dura 23 horas y la noche solo 7.

y por ultimo la cuarta e ultima estacion nocturnia o tambien llamada la estacion de la noche eterna ya que aqui es el contrario de fercius ya que la noche dura 23 horas y el dia 7 dandole asi su nombre y haciendo relevante su caracteristica principal.

durante esta temporada irk esta casi por completo en penunbra al no ser casi alumbrado por el sol,aqui los irkens prevalecen gracias a su vision nocturna y a las intensas luces neon de la gigantesca metropolis.

esta temporada es la unica de irk que no presenta cambios extremos como lluvias,frio o calor y es tibia con el porcentaje normal de lluvias en irk siendo tecnicamente la primavera de irk solo que sin plantas e alergias.

los irken mutantes al haber desarrollado en algunos casos marcas que brillan en la oscuridad tecnicamente la tienen mas facil que los irken promedio durante esta estacion,al igual que los sraigo con su bioluminescencia.

durante esta temporada hay constantes lluvias de estrellas que iluminan el cielo irkeano casi eternamente nocturno durante toda la temporada haciendo el cielo de un vibrante color rosa similar al cielo diurno de irk.

durante la duracion de nocturnia tambien ocurre un fenomeno similar a la aurora boreal que se presenta cada ciertas noches ademas del siempre esperado triple eclipse lunar que vuelve las lunas amarilla para pendora,rojo naranjo a mortem y verde a ignis por una noche.

#defective lotus au #iz au #four for the price of one au #a promising future au #a tale of blood petals au #invader zim au

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risuola · 27 days

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ENTRY #1 ♡ F. READER X GOJO SATORU

My crystal tears and my heart’s beat, And all the pieces of my soul’s depths, I lay my dreams upon your feet, Please be careful taking your steps.

cw: angst-ish, arranged marriage!au, slight age gap (reader's around 22, Satoru is 28), loveless marriage, brief mentions of blood and toxicity — 1,9k words

a/n: starting a new series while two other are hanging in the air and hundreds of wips are waiting for being written? yeah, that's me, but hey, I needed to start something new to get my creative juices flowin'. this one's gonna be a series of entries, a diary if you will.

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When you were younger, a girl innocent and little, blissfully unaware of the world around you, you wished to marry a prince. Influenced by tales told by your mother and tv shows you watched with big and curious eyes, you had a vision of the ceremony straight out of a dream. A magical display of love and the path of rose petals and feathers through which you were meant to stride in a dress made of satin and lace – white and elegant. You also saw him, the man that your heart would choose and desire. A prince handsome and kind, who would love and protect you even if by doing so, his life would be on the line. You were too little to be aware of the naivety of the dreamy pictures in your head.

Sometimes you wished to turn back time and once again step into the shoes of the innocent you who never got to know sadness and fear. Sometimes you think of it with a bittersweet smile, reminiscing the way you used to go about your days without care about the world around. With mild regret you reminiscence the moment you learned that everything around you was–

“I’m talking to you. God damn it, are you deaf?”

“I heard you.”

–a lie.

You were a late bloomer but besides the judgmental looks you were receiving left and right from the elders of your clan, you also owe it the beauty of your prolonged childhood. Few years of freedom that you lost the memory of how it tasted and yet, you like to go back to it and drown in the pictures it left in your mind. Whilst all of your siblings were training and learning, fighting and risking their lives against the cursed spirits, you brought shame to your family. There was no place for someone without a cursed technique in a world of sorcery and you were made painfully aware of it at the day of your tenth birthday. That was also the end of your childhood and the day you wish to forget. You remember how the smiles of your parents turned into frowns and the soft, melodic tone of your mother became harsh and never got back to how it used to be. The tales and cookies vanished and what was left was nothing but suffering and degradation.

“Oh, did you?”

It took you six years of training to awaken the technique that later on was called the most powerful in the history of your clan. Six years of days and nights filled with sweat and tears, six years of bloody knuckles and bruises but also, it took six years of your determination to prove all of them wrong. Despite being the youngest of four siblings, you were able to stand against the worst of curses with nothing but a sword and raw power when everyone else relied heavily on the cursed techniques. You were strong and skilled, you were trained and fearless but still, you were looked down. A shame. To your family you were nothing but a shame.

And then, suddenly, you became a pride. You were on everyone’s mouths; you were talked about as if you were the most expensive and rare diamond. Years of harsh treatment you received suddenly became forgotten because once your technique awakened, you became the strongest in your clan, surpassing your siblings, your parents and everyone else who bore the same name as you. Suddenly other clans were talking about you too, with curiosity and fear. Suddenly, you became someone. But somehow, it didn’t make you happy. Once you realized that the world you were born into wasn’t a tale you always thought it is, you lost the ability to enjoy it. Maybe the pain of what you had given to become a true sorcerer rendered you unable to fully appreciate the adulthood, but you found it hard to see the light, when the darkness seemed to embed itself into your soul.

“You know what? Fuck that. I’m leaving.”

Ah yes, the marriage. With years that had passed since you were young and naïve, you stripped yourself of the dreams of sharing a life with a prince, but a part of you still hoped for love and calm. A part of your heart wished to settle with someone you’ll trust and care for. Someone who will ground you in the world of constant danger and for years you thought that you will find a man with whom the stressful life of sorcery will be a little kinder, a little less scary, a little more bearable. It was a child in you, a faint spark of juvenile carelessness that never died down, even in the darkest of days you endured.

You let out a deep sigh and allowed your lids to close. Your head leaned forward, forehead restless against the cold doors of the kitchen cabinet. The loud thud of doors snapping shut echoed in your ears for few moments and then it became silent. An earie cacophony of nothing but your own breath and soft ticking of the clock on the wall next to you. For a moment you thought about how many times you relived this very same situation already. The cold detachment, harsh exchange of words and then he’s gone. A salve of ruthless stabs that never seem to hurt less and the sound of your own voice forming sentences you wouldn’t think of if the circumstances were different.

First time you saw Satoru Gojo was many years before you truly knew who he is. It was a picture that you noticed by accident, somewhere in the papers your parents had spread out on the coffee table. He was a young boy back then. You remember the impression he made on you. He looked cold, intimidating, unapproachable. He looked like someone you’d never think of becoming friends with. You were young, just barely nine years old and he was already fifteen. He was already the strongest and even though you weren’t actively involved in the world of sorcery, you knew his name.

And then, many years later you sat in front of him. While the elders of your clans discussed the importance of the arrangement that was planned within the sorcerer’s society, Satoru was resting on a couch unamused, with his legs crossed and eyes covered by a layer of white bandages. You watched him, analyzed his lack of interest and the veil of cold arrogance with realization that everything you wished for was never on the table for you. During the two long hours of conversations that were about you and yet no one asked for your opinion, you and Satoru didn’t exchange one word.

You heard his voice actively directed at you for the first time during the wedding ceremony. It was small, very private and filled with people that you mostly didn’t know. It was far from perfect, though pretty in a way. Under the cautious watch of the most important figures of sorcery, you said the vows that made you feel nothing and yet meant so much. The words of promise, that for anyone else meant love and safe future, to you meant status and the name. You became Gojo. You became a wife to the strongest man in the world.

Now it’s seven months after the wedding and the day you and him moved together. The apartment you shared was filled with both yours and his belongings and yet it didn’t feel like home. It lacked the atmosphere of love and understanding and on days like this, you were losing hope it will ever feel different than miserable.

That day was nothing out of ordinary when it came to your marriage. Yet another fight, yet another beeline he made to leave you alone in the empty house. You always argue. There was no warmth between the walls of the apartment, there was no care and respect. Instead, there were snaps and insults, there was silence and avoidance. The large bed in what was meant to be a shared bedroom was occupied only by you, while Satoru preferred to sleep on a couch even though his tall frame was way too big for it. Besides one very brief and formal kiss you shared during the wedding day, you never kissed again. There was no holding hands, no incidental touches, no nothing that would convey any sort of feeling and only times your bodies made contact was when he grabbed your wrists in anger or when your shoulder hit his arm while you were passing by.

Truth is, you had no idea what Satoru was talking about that morning before he left. You were lost in thoughts, but you could only imagine he was mentioning the meeting he needed to attempt in the evening. He probably won’t be home until late and once he’ll come back, he’ll be annoyed by elders and for that, you couldn’t blame him. Whenever you face the elders of jujutsu community, your blood pressure raises as well and you’re quite calm by nature. That being said, if unlucky, you’ll be the one to take the hit of his anger.

Your fingers run across the golden band that adorned your finger. It was an absentminded motion that became a habit of sorts, helping you gather the thoughts, calming your mind. The cold feel of metal allowed you to let go of the stress and forced you to suck it up yet again.

Two hours after the morning fight, you found yourself surrounded by the familiar buildings in the Jujutsu tech area, watching your husband from afar. Satoru was in the middle of teaching students, if whatever the hell he was doing could be called teaching. Megumi was resting next to him as some other kids were fighting on the training field. The sound of wooden swords colliding echoed between the woods that surrounded the expanse of the school zones. Gojo was looking as careless as ever, calm and smiling – a sight that you almost never see unless he’s facing someone else. He was chatting with his almost-son, shouting some advice to the sparing students and going about his day as he usually does, but one thing was different.

“Satoru,” you called his name as you went down the stairs to reach the spot where he was standing. He noticed you, you knew that. He most likely knew about your appearance way before you even got to see him, but now he chose to actively ignore your presence as his light blue eyes stayed focused on the field instead of landing on you.

“What brings you here?” He asked and you could tell how the tone of his voice changed from the friendly sensei to your husband’s rough approach. He wasn’t happy with your visit; you weren’t welcome near him and everyone knew that. The fact of your marriage being arranged wasn’t a secret and it also wasn’t a secret that it was Gojo’s clan decision, not his own. Satoru felt some sort of humiliation that despite him being the strongest, he was stripped of a choice who to spend his life with and you, as his wife, were paying for his resentment.

“I brought you this,” you replied, reaching your hand towards him. His eyes landed on your palm and you noticed a ghost of relief that washed over his features when he took the band of black fabric from your hold. His blindfold, that you realized was ripped – he left at home in the morning. That was most likely what he was talking to you about because once you cleaned up after the breakfast, you noticed the band and his broken glasses left on the coffee table.

“So you were listening,” Satoru said quietly and securely covered his eyes.

“I wasn’t.”

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rookthorne · 7 months

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⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐧𝐤

Fairy Tales and stories always had one ending, that the prince would find his princess and all would be well; a masterful, happily ever after. You had never believed that would be you, not in your wildest dreams. Until the day that two knights in inked armour walked through the door of your castle and made themselves at home in your heart.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𖠺 Tattoo Artist!CW!Bucky Barnes x Florist!F!Reader x Tattoo Artist!Nomad!Steve Rogers

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 𖠺 6.7k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𖠺 Fluff, light show of dom/sub

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 𖠺 I sincerely blame my hype squad for this, but a very special thank you to SC for her genius mind for helping me build this world, and to @sebstanwhore for putting up with my screaming about it constantly. 𖠺 This is officially my longest published fic as of September 2023!

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒔 𖠺 So This Is Love by Ilene Woods, Mike Douglas 𖠺 I See The Light by Mandy Moore, Zachary Levi

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒂 𖠺 @smutconnoisseur

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 𖠺 @stuckybingo 𝗚𝟰 — Tattoo Shop AU (September Adoptable) — Masterlist 𖠺 @allcapsbingo 𝗕𝟰 — Old Married Couple — Masterlist 𖠺 @anyfandomfluffbingo 𝗕𝟭 — Florist AU — Masterlist 𖠺 @mcukinkbingo 𝗚𝟱 — Poly Relationship Negotiation — Masterlist

𝐆𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐈𝐧𝐤 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Sunlight streamed through the window as you stood behind the shop counter. It was a bright, clear day, and the possibilities that a new day could bring excited you.

The perfume of freshly bloomed buds and bouquets filled your senses, each petal of the flowers that surrounded you just as pretty as the last. Walking into the place you built from the ground up since botany had run in your blood for generations. The love for floristry, specifically, had been passed down from your mother, then her mother before her, and her mother before her.

As a child, with their guidance, you grew up with such kindness and compassion for all flora and fauna, and you were an avid daydreamer.

Your daydreams of fairy tales, of wonder and love through the petals and veins of the ages, was how you came to affectionately name your haven and shop Fantasy Floristry.

Lanterns softly lit the way between the rows of bouquets and arrangements in the shadier corners of your store, and the walls, which were devoid of shelves with bouquets, were covered with pencil drawings of fantasy creatures and characters from many Disney movies – all signed by a local artist. That of which, was you.

It was a slow morning, customers sparse and fairly few between. Which, in itself, was never unusual, and afforded you the opportunity to potter about. Each bud you passed had a loving caress and gentle touch before they were spritzed with a soft spray of water, and you hummed along to the music playing over the speakers, a classic, timeless Disney tune.

You smiled as you looked upon the shelves fit to burst with blooms – each bunch set to a theme of a movie. Red and yellow matched with a brown ribbon for Simba and his mane, black and white with a red ribbon for Patch and his collar, and your most popular theme, one for Rapunzel; purple and yellow, with a gold ribbon to tie it in.

The chime of the doorbell sounded at the front of the store, and you looked up just in time to see your best friend and employee walk in, steaming to-go cups in hand. “Late again,” you scolded, and she smiled sheepishly.

“I brought us coffees to make up for it, darling,” Wanda simpered, holding out one of the coffees and a small brown bag. “And I bought you a bagel. Don’t say I never do anything for you.”

You rolled your eyes and took the coffee. “Thanks, Wands.”

“I’ll be out back,” Wanda called as she strode to the cool room. “See you later!”

Things progressed as usual after that – customers came and went with bright smiles as they left with small or big bouquets.

You were behind the counter working away on the store’s social media when the bell chimed loudly, followed by two sets of heavy footfalls and low voices. “She’s off with Ma, you know that, punk,” one of them said, almost as though they were exasperated. “It’ll be nice for them to come back to something, don’t you think?”

“Alright, alright,” the other voice replied placatingly. The door closed behind the newcomers with another chime, and their boots thumped quietly over the tiled floor. “Which do you think- Oh, wow. They’re beautiful.”

You looked up from your phone just in time to see two men approaching, only they had stopped at the Rapunzel and Simba bouquets, the blond one of the two pointing at the purple roses and yellow lilies. His other hand… was holding the other’s – interlocked so their tattoos aligned, and a wedding band shone brightly on his ring finger.

They were beautiful – far more so than any bouquet you could imagine or conjure. The blond was broad and lithe, his long hair swept back and beard neatly trimmed. A black plaid shirt covered his frame, and the top two buttons were undone, revealing coloured ink creeping up his collarbones. A bright, intricate yellow sunflower was tattooed along the contours of his neck, from the back to the front of the pale skin.

It seemed to match the other man’s, who, in place of a sunflower, had a bunch of purple daisies arranged in a loosely assembled heart. His hair was dark and long, down to the top of his shoulders, and he was bigger, broader than the blond man, though they stood at the same height. His skin was covered in ink – visible under the rolled up sleeves and open collar of his navy henley.

“Oh, lord,” you whispered, blinking rapidly to try and discern if you were dreaming.

You were, in fact, not dreaming.

The dark-haired man looked up at the counter and sent you a charming grin, pointing at the flowers himself. “Did you do these?”

Don’t make a fool of yourself, you chastised silently. “Yeah, they–yeah, I did them,” you stammered in reply.

“They’re stunning,” the blond offered, awestruck. “You’ve done an amazing job, doll.”

The two men walked to the counter, hands still interlocked as they neared, and you gulped – they were married, keep it together.

“I’m Steve,” the blond said happily, holding his hand out to shake, which you accepted politely, with an added bonus of being able to look at his tattoos. “And this is my husband, Bucky.” He pointed at the dark-haired man who also offered his hand, only he brought it to his lips and kissed your knuckles – just like a prince would. Your stomach and heart swooped at the gesture when Steve continued, “We own the tattoo shop next door.”

“Oh!” you chirped, immediately cringing internally. You offered your name, then, “I’ve seen the art in the windows, and it’s all so beautiful. Have you been here long? I know I’ve only recently set up shop, but business has been so busy I haven’t had a chance to come and say hello.”

Bucky grinned. “Too long, we would say,” he chuckled and glanced at Steve. “We saw you set up shop back when you moved in, and I have to say, we were very intrigued.” Both men looked around your store before their focus was back on you. “It’s a beautiful set up, nice ‘n cosy.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, shy but proud.

Steve smirked and nodded to the display of Rapunzel flowers. “What would a professional recommend for two hovering mother hens–just to remind them that we love ‘em.”

“Oh, that is so sweet,” you rushed before you could clamp your jaw shut, and Bucky snorted. “What? What’s so wrong with that?”

“Nothing,” Bucky rushed, still grinning. “It’s just–if you met them, you wouldn’t be saying that.”

A loud smack sounded as Steve slapped Bucky’s shoulder and shoved him away. “Stop being such an ungrateful son, honey,” he teased as Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Anyway,” you said haltingly, making your way around the counter. More to yourself, you mumbled, “You can do this, it’s fine, they’re just handsome men, keep it together.”

Coming to a stop at the far corner, you stopped and watched both of them as they bickered, much like an old married couple, “You know Ma would like that more. She likes teddies and shit-” Bucky emphasised, but Steve raised a brow.

“You’re telling me that you want to shell out for a damn bear–well, aren’t you son of the year,” Steve teased, staring at the shelf full of small, soft stuffies. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.”

“Oh, now he agrees with me-” Bucky was cut off by Steve’s hand, who covered his mouth and held his thumb under his chin to keep his mouth shut. The display made your lips part in surprise, though it went unnoticed. Bucky’s brows furrowed, and it looked as though he was pouting. You made out a muffled but determined huff of, “Lemme go.”

“Do as you’re told then, boy,” Steve whispered harshly.

Internally, you were screaming at the show of intimacy – albeit restrained, and you couldn’t help the shiver that crawled up your spine at the sound of Steve’s command. You shook your head and cleared your throat to get their attention.

Both of their gazes snapped towards you as though they had forgotten where they were. “D-Do you still want–want help?” you stuttered.

“Yes, please, doll,” Steve said happily, and he wandered over. Bucky followed soon after and rested his chin on Steve’s shoulder, wrapping his arms from behind – the creak of leather made you look down to see Bucky on his toes to have the slight height advantage.

You realised a second too late that you were still staring at them because they chuckled and winked at you when you glanced back up at their faces.

A sudden shyness blanketed your mind at their undivided attention, but you pushed through the murky waters of confused intrigue and desire – the latter a shock to your system. “So, we have these, especially for motherly bouquets,” you explained, pointing at the purple, pink, and yellow hues of petals. “Otherwise…”

The tour of the shop was an eventful encounter. Both men were enraptured and entranced by the beauty of the flowers, and each compliment to any arrangement made your heart soar with pride. It was only when you made it back to the Disney themed arrangements did Steve’s eyes light up.

“Mom would love these,” he breathed, gently brushing the petals of a yellow lily before doing the same to a purple rose. “She loves this movie. It’s a job to convince her to watch anything else.”

You giggled and nodded in agreement. “I have to say it’s one of my favourites, too. So beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said suddenly, and you looked at him. He was already staring at you. “Really beautiful.”

The humming of Ilene Woods came over the speaker at that moment: “So this is love, so this is what makes life divine.” Steve nodded in agreement and looked at you with a fond smile.

It was surreal, and it was all you could do to hold in a squeak of shock. On autopilot, while you recovered from such an insinuation, you blurted quickly, “I saw the tattoos on your necks. What do they mean? They’re so beautiful, and I adore them.”

“Oh, these?” Bucky pointed at his and then Steve’s, the flower tattoos bright in the sunlight from the window. “My Ma loves purple daisies, loved ‘em since she was young. I always bring her some each time I visit, and since she and Steve’s Mom are best friends, it’s only natural that this punk has to get Sarah some of her own. Don’t want him lookin’ like the bad son, after all.”

Steve shoved Bucky off and sighed heavily. “Yeah, shut it, jerk.” He rubbed at the tattoo, smiling absently. “Mom loves sunflowers. Dad used to get her a bunch every Friday night.”

You smiled softly at his words, feeling the pain of them. “That’s beautiful, Steve.” Bucky’s hand found Steve’s, and you saw him squeeze once. “Would you like two Rapunzel bouquets, then? I can add a sunflower and a daisy to each at no charge–I want to make your mothers smile. They deserve it.”

“Sweetheart, we can’t ask you to do that,” Bucky interjected. Steve hummed an ascension as you grabbed a bouquet. “Seriously. Your arrangements are stunning. We can’t ask for anymore.”

“You’re not asking,” you whispered quietly, looking at the bouquet in your arms. The beat of your heart thundered as you wondered if what you were about to say would spook them off, but their presence had flourished something inside of you – a boisterous and courageous thing. “I am offering, and I want those who leave my shop to be happy, to smile. If I can do that for your mothers too? You bet I will.”

You turned your back and walked towards the counter, entirely missing the look Bucky and Steve shared – one of adoration and affection.

The bouquet sat proudly on the counter as you turned to grab the next one, when you gasped in shock. Bucky had grabbed the second one, while Steve had picked up one of the largest and most expensive arrangements.

“Oh, Steve! Bucky, wait, I-”

“Nope,” Bucky cut in, and he placed the Rapunzel bouquet down next to the other one. Then he turned to Steve to help him lift the bigger arrangement onto the counter. “How about this–would you make us something for our shop? We want something on the front desk. This big one,” he pointed to the elaborate piece, “is going in our home–away from Alpine.”

“Alpine?” you quizzed. Steve nodded, and Bucky pulled out his phone before turning the screen to you – a photo of a fluffy white cat with piercing blue eyes as his lock screen. “They are beautiful!”

“She’s an attention whore, but she’s our baby,” Bucky said fondly, a small smile on his lips. He looked up at you and that smile morphed into a grin. “Now, how ‘bout it, sweetheart?”

You blinked. “Sorry?”

“The arrangement for our shop, doll,” Steve answered, and you started – how had you forgotten that?

“Right!” you rushed, flustered. They watched you, but their gazes were gentle, almost coaxing. “Sure–I, uh, I can do that for sure. When do you need it by?” Your trusty paper pad and pen felt comforting in your hands, and you looked between them expectantly.

They shared a look, and then Steve spoke up, “Are you busy now, honey?”

Mentally, you catalogued the tasks for the day. There were no urgent appointments to meet nor any commissions, and Wanda was around… “No, I am–I am free, today, that is.” You cursed the softness of your voice. They’d see your shyness, your absurd ability to become flustered with the slightest push.

Bucky grinned and then winked. “Perfect, why don’t we take you to the shop? See how quick our clever girl can whip something up.”

By heaven and earth, how you were unprepared for such a statement. Your mouth opened and closed as the words settled in the cogs of your brain, jamming them with the assurance and praise.

“That’s a good idea, doll. You can get a sense for the colours and contrasts.” Steve turned to you more fully. “We can walk you back–do you have someone to watch the store…?”

“Yeah–I, there’s-” You squeaked, gesturing over your shoulder. “I’ll just- Um, go get her.”

The back cooler room couldn’t have been further away at that moment. You rushed towards it, arm outstretched when you heard Steve whisper behind you, “She’s so sweet, don’t you think?”

“She is,” Bucky agreed easily. The words made your heart thump, and you didn’t linger, pushing open the door to the blast of the cool back room air.

“There you are-” Wanda greeted, but she fell short.

You shut the door and rested against it, holding a hand over your hammering heart.

“What the–? Are you alright?” she hurriedly asked, her face pulled taut and brows furrowed. “You look like you’ve… Wait, are you-”

“I need you to watch the shop for me,” you barrelled, breathing deeply in an effort to calm your racing heart. “Please–just look.” The door creaked open to reveal a slither of the front counter where Bucky and Steve stood, conversing and looking around the store. “They want me to make a–a bouquet for their shop, the tattoo–?”

“Oh, babe,” Wanda whispered, pushing the door closed gently. There was an impish smile curling her lips. “Go on, I’ve got this. If you don’t come back tonight, I’ll close up.”

“What do you mean not come back–?” You stared at her, unable to comprehend her secret, double meaning.

“Don’t you worry, sweet summer child,” she said, winking. “I’ll see you later.”

Before you could protest or question why everyone kept winking at you, Wanda had undone the bow of your apron, whisked it off of your uniform, and forced you out the door ahead of her.

“There she is!” Bucky called, his signature grin curling his lips. “Are you set to go?”

Wanda stood beside you, her hand on your shoulder, and she surreptitiously pushed you closer to the counter. She had that same coy smirk on her lips. Both Bucky and Steve waved and greeted her. “Just take care of my girl–she’s going to make you the best arrangement,” Wanda said.

“We will,” Steve assured, and he pulled out his wallet. “I’ll pay for these now, ladies.”

After completing the transaction for the two bouquets and singular larger arrangement, Wanda’s hand found your back, and she forced you forward, closer to Bucky. “See you three later.”

Steve saluted and walked forward, and you followed, your footsteps quick compared to the heavy boot falls of your companions. As you walked behind Steve, Bucky pointed up to a canvas on the wall – a scene painted straight from the movie Tangled, the beautiful soft hues of yellow and gold of the lanterns in the sky. “Who did this?”

“A local artist,” you whispered, glancing between the canvas and Bucky. “She sells her work here–I wanted to help an old friend.”

Bucky stepped closer to the canvas, and by doing so, he stood right next to you. The smell of his cologne and close proximity made your heart skip a beat – even his voice sounded deeper this close. “Whoever she is, she’s very talented. Pass that on for us, yeah?”

“Okay,” you squeaked, and you cleared your throat. “Yeah, I- I will pass that on for you. She would appreciate it.”

“I would be tempted to hire her,” Steve said quietly, voice awestruck. “Her colour work and ability to capture the moment is beautiful. She has a gift.”

Do not faint, you repeated in a mantra.

“Alright, c’mon,” Bucky urged. “Let’s take our Petal to the shop, or we’ll never leave.”

“Petal?” you whispered, and Bucky rested his hand on your lower back, gently encouraging you forward.

“Yeah, that’s you,” he said softly. “Precious and pretty–jus’ like a petal of a flower.”

The outside air was a reprieve from the stifling tension of your shop, and Steve turned around and looked at you, then Bucky, and he slowed to walk beside you – opposite to Bucky. You were walking between them, and could not calm your heart’s thunderous beat.

It was a short walk, but nonetheless, it left an impression. People had hastened to move out of your way as you walked between the two men, both brooding and you had guessed intimidating – if the shocked and double-takes of all passers by were anything to go by.

A dark brick building came into view – black awnings and dark accents made it feel rustic, paired with the striking art on the windows of a star and a set of wings set just below the artistic calligraphy of Quartet’s Tattoo.

“Here we are,” Steve said, gesturing at the front door. “Come on in, Petal–Buck, babe, you picked a nice one. I love the way it sounds.”

“What?” you sputtered. “I-”

‘Yeah,” Bucky breathed, then slung an arm over your shoulder, pulling you close. His lips were suddenly on your temple, a soft kiss that left you reeling. “I agree.”

The door, artfully carved with more stars and in place of wings were skulls, opened with a creak to reveal a dark and moody waiting area. Wooden beams were visible over the ceiling where lights with black shades hung in increments, and designs were all over the walls, each as intricate as the last. Dark slats of wood lined the floor until they reached an open space towards the back of the shop where you guessed the booths were situated.

“Take a seat, sweetheart,” Bucky said, pointing to a black leather couch that seated three, a glass table in front of it. “Do you want a drink–?”

“Water, please,” you replied, sitting down. You suspected you’d need something stronger to dull the nerves, but you refrained from mentioning that aloud. “This is beautiful.”

Art was everywhere, in every nook and cranny. You could see four booths, and managed a peak at the names lining the walls – Steve, ‘Cap’; Bucky, ‘Sarge’; Nat, ‘Widow’; Sam, ‘Falcon’.

“Thanks, doll,” Steve said happily, and he took the seat opposite you. “It’s our pride and joy.”

Bucky appeared with a glass of water and sat on the other end of the couch, tucking his leg up so he could face you. It was silent for a moment as you took the space in. Choices flooded your mind the more you stared around – reds and burgundies to compliment the dark stained wood, but then, whites and yellows would contrast against the deep, rich hues of the mahogany.

You blinked and looked back at Bucky and Steve, only they were already watching you. “Oh, I’m sorry,” you breathed, smiling nervously as you placed the glass of water on a coaster on the table. “I- I was just looking so I could, um, get a feel for the arrangement for you.”

“Oh yeah? And what are you thinking?” Bucky asked, his tone teasing.

Frowning slightly, deep in thought, you looked around the shop once more before finally settling on the reception desk.

The wood was stained dark, like the rest of the shop, but the accents of lightened, bleached knots and ridges caught your attention. Whites and yellows would bring that to light, and then, a fiery arrangement for the glass coffee table… “Uh- Well, I have two ideas,” you began.

Both Bucky and Steve raised their brows, and placed their drinks on the table. Steve leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and letting his hands fall between his thighs. Bucky, back still against the arm of the couch, leaned against it and put a heavily tattooed arm over the back of it.

“Let’s hear it then,” Bucky said, his grey eyes bright with curiosity. “What’s our clever girl imagined?”

“Let her talk, Buck,” Steve chastised.

You took a deep breath and fought against the urge to run and hide – it was strange to feel so safe and attended to by these two strangers, but they had done nothing to warrant suspicion, at least, not that you had thought.

“Well,” you began, fidgeting in your seat as you nodded to the reception desk. “I thought a lighter arrangement would work. See how the wood is stained dark, but there are lighter streaks and knots?” You pointed at the spots you could see from your vantage point. “Whites and yellows would soften the–I think saturation is the right word?”

There was an affirming hum from one of them, and you continued. “Then it would make the entry feel lighter, as the room feels broody–it isn’t a bad thing,” you rushed to assure, looking at the two men with wide eyes. “The space is beautiful, and I love it–just, some softness might brighten it a bit.”

“Huh, you’re right, doll,” Steve considered, his hand now rubbing his chin as he stared at the desk. “I think we’d do better–maybe attract more clients. What do you think, babe?”

“It would work well, yeah,” Bucky agreed.

He shifted closer, almost imperceptibly, but your keen, anxious senses saw it immediately. What frightened you more was the fact you were not scared of it. The thought of him being close made your body heat up from some depth that had been untouched. They were married, you intoned. They were married to one another, no less.

“What would be even better, though,” Bucky continued, his tone impish. “Is if you told us the second idea.”

“Oranges and reds–fiery colours to bring attention to the mahogany wood and dark stain,” you said in one breath. Nerves had started to make your stomach roil and flutter with butterflies. As you stared at your hands while breathing shallowly, a tattooed hand rested over your fingers, effectively stopping your bad habit of picking at the skin. “I-”

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” Bucky said quietly, squeezing your hands. “You’re alright. It’s cute that you're so shy, but trust us, you’re okay. If we are comin’ on too strong for you, we will stop.”

The world stopped. Time froze, your place in the expansive universe suddenly too much to comprehend. “Coming on too strong–?” you asked hoarsely, unable to take in the words. “Are you- You two are flirting with me?”

There was a chuckle from the seat across from you, and you looked at Steve sharply. A bright smile was on his face, one of which conveyed affection, not patronisation. “Yeah, we are, doll. Do you want us to stop?”

You blinked, looked at Bucky, then back to Steve. “But you’re married!”

“We are, happily so,” Bucky said, and he took his hand away. You suddenly missed the warmth of it. “And we know what we want. We were in your shop today for more than just flowers, sweetheart. I wasn’t lying when I said we’ve been curious–a pretty Petal like you, clever and downright beautiful, both generous and kind… Well, we were intrigued.”

The words flushed your system and left you hollow with shock, akin to an overwhelming giddiness. “I don’t understand,” you breathed, staring at Bucky. “You want- What do you want?”

“We want to take you on a date. If you are interested, and want to,” Bucky offered gently. “You can say no, and we won’t think any different of you, don’t you worry ‘bout that. Like hell would we skip on your skills as a florist, and we’d still be friends. If you wanted to be, of course.”

“A date?”

“A date,” Steve affirmed. “We know polyamorous relationships aren’t everyone’s cup of tea-”

Bucky snorted a laugh and shook his head. “You sound ridiculous saying that, Stevie.”

“Shut up, punk,” Steve sighed. Then he looked at you again. “As I was saying, yes, it’s not everyone’s favourite. We just- We became smitten with you, doll. So, if you would be interested, we’d like to take you on a date.”

“Oh.”

The world, still tilted on its axis, started spinning once more, taking your insides with it as it moved. You blinked rapidly, and your hands curled and relaxed on your knees.

Truly, the offer didn’t scare you, per se. It was the reality shaking thought that not one, but two men found you intriguing enough that they wanted to take you out on a date–a traditional date.

A truly old fashioned notion, you thought.

Their presence seemed to bring out your reckless, wild side, and you took a deep breath. They said they would still care for you as a friend, even if you said no, and it comforted your heart and screaming, anxious mind. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Bucky asked, brow raised. “Do you want some time-”

“I’ll go on a date with you two,” you interrupted before you could stop yourself. “I would love that.”

Bucky beamed at you while Steve rose from his seat to lean down and kiss the crown of your head. “Perfect, doll. Why don’t you do both of your ideas, and we can pick ‘em up when you’re done?”

Feeling emboldened, you grinned up at Steve and then at Bucky. “I will have them done in a few hours. Walk me back?”

“You heard the lady,” Bucky murmured, his eyes slightly wide at your eagerness. “Someone’s excited to get to work.”

“Well, you have me motivated,” you explained with a shrug and a shy smile. “I won’t let you two down.”

Steve shook his head and helped you up before leading you to the door. “You could never let us down, honey–remember that.”

The two of them walked you back to your shop, opening and holding the door for you. “Such gentlemen,” you teased quietly. They only winked.

“There you are,” Wanda called happily as she rounded the counter to greet you. “Have you organised a theme?”

“Two,” you supplied, chipper. Wanda’s brows raised at your enthusiasm. “I’m going to be doing a light arrangement and a fiery toned one, too. It’ll set the colours off nicely, I think.”

Wanda nodded and grabbed your hand. “You’re the expert,” she said, leading you towards the cooler room. “See you boys later!”

“No, wait,” you rushed, looking back at Steve and Bucky as you pulled away from Wanda’s grip. “Can–can I have your number? So I can text you when they’re done–?”

The smiles on their faces could have made the toughest rose bloom, you swore. Once their numbers were in your phone, they walked from the store, arrangements in hand for their mothers.

As you worked on the bouquets while Wanda minded the store, you thought long and hard about their proposition. They were grown men. It was not like you were dealing with the decisions and minds of growing boys – marriage was a big deal, and opening it to a stranger was even more risky. Did they truly want to risk all of what they had built?

Thoughts spiralled, and your mind whirled with all the possibilities – rational thought long cast out of the equation. Until, “You keep pulling a face like that, babe, and it’ll get stuck.”

You looked up to see Wanda standing in the doorway, hair tied up and a soft, kind smile on her face. Her eyes were bright, glinting in the way that told you she knew something was amiss. “What’s got you all tied up, love?”

The stem of the rose was smooth against your fingers, and you considered the thorns that adorned it – helpfully comparing it to your current predicament. “I just, I don’t know. It seems so sudden–doesn’t it? Them just waltzing in here–”

“Hold on.” Wanda glanced back to the store and then stepped into the room, her arms crossed over her chest. “You will not second guess this. I have seen those two make heart eyes at you for the longest time.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, astonished.

“I meant what I said,” Wanda said a little too easily, and she shrugged. “Have you not seen how those puppies look for you as they walk by the store window almost every single day?”

Your mouth parted in shock. Had they? “No…”

Wanda shook her head slowly, a slow smile pulling the corner of her lips up. It wasn’t a condescending expression, but rather, one of an older sister who cared beyond words for the one they loved. “Babe, you… You have to give this a shot. Give them a chance. I do not know them well, but I know they are kind, and gentle–gentle giants, if you will.”

A strong feeling of ease settled in your gut and over your mind, cancelling out the cacophony of nerves that screamed and pitched their fits. If Wanda, the one you trusted the most, could see something, maybe, just maybe, it would be worth it.

You looked at the bouquets before you, one of angelic and pure white to sunny, happy yellow; the other bright, cheerful orange and fiery, passionate red. It was symbolistic of the clash in your mind; resemblances to the possible opportunities. White for the softness of your soul, and reds to Bucky and Steve’s desire.

“Alright,” you said aloud, voice firm and unwavering. “I’ll do it. I- I want this.”

Wanda grinned, a blindingly prideful smile. “‘Atta girl. Now, get to it!”

A few hours later, as the sun had started to begin its descent, you stood in the back room of your shop filled with awe. The bouquets had turned out perfect – each petal and leaf in place. You snapped a few photos with your phone and then sent a text to Bucky’s number, asking if they would come around after they closed up.

Your ringtone made you jump in place, and Bucky’s name flashed across the screen.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Bucky greeted, the low hum of a tattoo machine in the background with the lull of quiet music. “Did you finish the flowers?”

“Yeah, I- I did, do you think you could–?”

There was a huff of breath, a chuckle, and then a sudden yell of “Babe!” before another voice came through the speaker.

“We’ll be round in about twenty minutes–that okay, doll?” Steve asked.

“That’s perfect,” you replied, looking at the clock. “I’ll be here–I’ll close up, so just knock when you get here.”

“Alright, see you soon.” The line clicked, and you put your phone back in your pocket.

Closing the shop went quickly, and after you had said goodnight to Wanda, you were on your own in the office, waiting as the minutes went by until you heard a knock on the store’s door. “Coming!”

Steve and Bucky were waiting on the sidewalk, huddled in coats as they watched you walk to the door. “Hey, come in, come in,” you rushed, stepping aside. “Thank you for coming and picking them up so late.”

“It’s nothin’, sweetheart,” Bucky yawned. “If we’re honest–we wanted to see you before we headed home.”

You smiled and looked at the floor, unable to look him in the eye after such sincerity. There was suddenly a hand gripping your chin gently, and you automatically moved in tandem with it until you were staring into Steve’s handsome face. “That we did.”

Blinking rapidly, you pulled back with a shaky laugh. “Did you guys have a good rest of your day?”

“Yeah,” Steve answered, looking around happily. “Normal shit with walk-ins and then we got started on a back piece. Poor bastard had to tap out.”

“We warned him.” Bucky shrugged. “Not like the poor fool didn’t know what he was gettin’ into. Anyway–how about those flowers?”

You led the two of them to the counter, where you heard two sharp intakes of breath as the arrangements came into view. They were extraordinary, and you had gone above and beyond for them – using flowers and buds that were yet to bloom to fill the spaces, each and every one placed with care and consideration. All of the colours complimented; a true masterpiece.

“Holy shit,” Steve gasped, and Bucky rushed forward to look at the bundles closer. “Petal– look at them!”

“You are amazing,” Bucky said quietly, his fingers brushing the petals of a white rose. “Absolutely fuckin’ amazing, look at this. You did this.”

“Oh, my gosh,” you whispered, hiding behind your hands. “It’s just two bouquets-”

Steve looked at you, aghast. “No.”

Both of them stepped towards you, and the next thing you knew, you were between them, squished to their chests and their arms around you. “Don’t you dare discount yourself, sweetheart,” Bucky murmured. “Be proud of yourself–it’s not a bad thing to be proud of what you create. And what you created is fuckin’ stunning.”

Many emotions swirled through your mind until you sniffled, pushing back against the burn of tears in your eyes. “O-Okay, thank you,” you whispered. Steve pulled away from the embrace to look at the flowers again, his face slack with awe, and Bucky held you tighter to his chest.

You felt a kiss at your temple suddenly. “Don’t you listen to those voices, alright? We’re louder and you’re gonna learn to love what you do, no matter what.” Unable to answer, you just nodded jerkily, wiping your eyes. Bucky’s thumb brushed your cheek, and he smiled softly as he pulled back.

“Why don’t we get dinner?” Steve asked suddenly, and you looked at him. “This isn’t our date, Petal, don’t you worry. Let’s just get dinner. How do you get home–drive, walk?”

“I walk-” You tried, but Steve shook his head.

“Not anymore, can’t have our Petal walking home on your own, okay?”

Ordinarily, you would have grimaced and grumbled at the commanding nature of such a statement, but somehow, this didn’t feel out of place. They cared, they just wanted you safe, you reasoned. “Okay, but Wanda normally walks with me, so–”

“That’s fine, we’ve got you both,” Bucky said simply, as though giving you both a lift was, in fact, not a big deal.

“If you’re sure,” you said quietly, and Bucky squeezed your shoulder.

“Let’s go, I’m starved,” Steve said loudly, almost obnoxiously. Bucky rolled his eyes and grumbled under his breath. “Don’t start with me, babe. You know how I get when I’m hungry.”

Bucky looked at you. “Yeah, he becomes more of a pain in my ass.”

“Literally,” Steve chortled, and you gasped in quiet shock as Bucky hit Steve on the shoulder.

“We are in polite company, you fucker!” Bucky shoved Steve, and the two of them bickered as they arranged the flowers in their arms to better carry them out of the store.

Finally, Bucky huffed and stuck his tongue out at Steve. “Let’s get these in the shop, then we can go to that diner.”

The three of you wandered out of your store, bouquets in hand, and Bucky took them into the shop. “How about here?” he wondered aloud, placing the red bouquet on the table, and adjusting it slightly.

You strode forward and adjusted it again, turning the vases and humming to yourself as you righted it. When you were satisfied, you stepped back and nodded. “How ‘bout that?”

Steve hummed approvingly as he placed the white arrangement on the reception desk – perfectly, you may add. Bucky looked between you and the flowers once, twice, then, “You’re decorating from now on, sweetheart.”

“If you say so.”

“We know so.” Steve’s hand was warm on your shoulder, and you briefly glanced down at the intricate designs that covered the back of his hand, the swirls stopping at the gold wedding and engagement bands. He flexed his hand and raised a brow. “What is it, doll?”

You considered your answer, and then ploughed on. “How long have you been married?”

“Feels like our whole lives at this point,” Bucky answered before Steve could open his mouth. “I’ve been with this punk since, what–college? Before that, even.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Steve said. “We’ve been partners for a lifetime, and all those before-”

“Don’t go gettin’ all poetic on me, honey,” Bucky hushed, and he kissed Steve on the lips, then the cheek. “You said you were starved.”

“Can’t I be soft on my love?”

Bucky laughed and shook his head. “You’re a punk–c’mon, Petal, let’s go.” He grabbed your hand and pulled you along – it was hard to ignore how warm his hand was or how your hand fit so perfectly in his. “And, just so you know, we’ve been married for nearly a decade now.”

“Wow,” you breathed, impressed. Neither gave the impression of being much older than yourself, but you supposed they were youthful in attitude, and that was one thing they had in abundance.

“So, what about that old diner on the corner–?”

“Yes!” you cried, brightening at the mention of your favourite spot to eat. “I love it there.”

Steve came up behind you and took hold of your other hand. “Alright, that’s settled then–off we go.”

They led you to a sleek, luxurious looking car parked a few feet from Quartet’s Tattoo. Bucky opened the back door for you, and you slipped into the leather seats with an awestruck gasp. The interior was immaculate and, for lack of a better word, rich. “Whoa–”

“We figured rather than letting that money sit and collect dust, we thought we should spend some of it,” Steve explained as he turned the ignition, and all the screens along the dash lit up. “Bucky spent more on his bike.”

You quickly looked at Bucky, who grinned proudly. “You have a bike?”

“Sure do, sweetheart. I’ll take you out one day,” he promised with another wink.

Steve sighed. “That’s enough, you. Don’t want her passing out before dinner, at least.”

Bucky snorted a laugh, and Steve backed the car up before you were on your way to the diner. For dinner, with the two men that had asked you out on a date. The two married men. Wow, you thought to yourself.

There was a slither of hesitance, but it was nothing next to the bounding hope of your heartbeat. For too long had you been shy and hesitant to take life by the reins, to take control and make something for yourself – your shop being the only proof that you could indeed take risks.

That would end now, you intoned, promising yourself. Maybe this would be okay, maybe it would work.

You could only try.

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

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hellbornsworld · 7 months

Text

JUNGKOOK WATTPAD RECOMMENDATIONS(3)₊˚✧ ﾟ.🐈‍⬛˚₊‧꒰ა ‧₊˚

˖°࿐ •⁀➷˖°࿐ •⁀➷˖°࿐ •⁀➷˖°࿐ •⁀➷˖°࿐ •⁀

"Would you dare to go inside?"

❝The moment I put this ring on your finger, you became my property.❞

🫧 𝐒𝐄𝐗 & 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 | CEO!Jungkook X Employee!Reader | Fuckboy JK | Completed | Re-Uploaded in inkitt

"Do me Jungkook, p-please."

"With all the pleasure. I will fuck you, only fuck you with everything I have."

"I'm just 2 % straight y/n, but I can love you more than a hundred percent straight man"

"Admit it Jungkook, she'd rather sleep with me." Jimin Vs Jungkook

"fuck yourself... and let me watch"

❝She's a delicate little flower, hyung,❞ Jungkook grabs his leather jacket and slips it on. ❝And if anyone is going to hear sinful moans pass those innocent lips, it'll be me.❞

"i have died everyday waiting for you."

"i should be the one lying next to you at night."

What's wrong with being a little chaotic? -J JK

🫧 𝗥𝗲𝗱 | Mafia+Ceo!JK X Reader | 53 Chapters | Duration-8h 18m | Ongoing

"That dress-" he says, eyes raking down your body. "-is 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘯 fucking distracting."

🫧 A Little Burden | Jungkook X Reader | 36 Chapters | Duration-3h 35m | Completed

I still remember that day clearly.....every night it comes back to me like a nightmare. The small fragile human getting pushed into my arms. Tears streaming down my face as I looked at her....Doctors storming in from everywhere trying everything they could to keep her alive. The look in her eyes she gave me made me break inside.

She knew she wasn't going to make it.

She smiled at me and took one last look at her child before speaking.

" notice me senpai " - jjk

A child must be sacrificed in order for the city to gain its happiness. a tale when doom and love are two sides of the same coin.

When the doctor tells the Jeon's that their newborn Jungsoo could die due to his premature birth, Mr. Jeon decides to clone him as soon as possible.

To their surprise, Jungsoo is able to grow up happy and healthy along with his clone, Jungkook, who's the total opposite of him.

❝ -How much is your daughter? ❞

Jungkook loves food and computer games, but compare to those two you are his favorite thing in this world.

He is the spitting image of an Angel but the blood in his veins is that of the Devil's.

❝Your son, he looks very similar to Jungkook...❞

Leave it to a 3-year-old to bring two parents back together.

❝ she slipped away the same way the velvet box slipped in my hand ❞ she was oddly peculiar and pure mystery yet, he still finds the refuge of feeling at "home" to the mute girl whom he met at the seaside.

A prince and servant girl grew up together in a castle. Best friends for life until that love as friends changed to something more. All was well until the prince was to be married and everything changed. Forever forbidden to be together but can one fateful reunion change everything?

"Jeon Jungkook, I like you." You said, your eyes wide and cheeks on fire. You finally had the guts to tell your long time crush what you feel about him. Jungkook smiled, giving you a spark of hope and a wash of relief. Or maybe it was a false hope or just him being kind as he says, "I'm sorry but I'm already in a relationship."

"...Kookie" she calls that's when Kookie's small little hands tugged onto his mother's sleeve's pulling her to look at him.

"what's wrong Kookie?"

❝I want to buy her❞

"You smell very nice."

"Are you...trying to flirt or something?"

A socially awkard witch has to struggle with being the sudden love (?) interest of a wolf shifter

"If they catch us, they will kill us."

"I don't give a fuck right now, baby."

"I don't call myself a pornstar, but I'm pretty famous on Live Babes (LB). I make money doing what people ask from me and they are mainly men, married man. Some even gave a wife or kids. But I don't care about that at all. The only thing I want is to continue earn their money. Oh! It's already 9PM! Don't forget to watch the show!"

"I can't wait, princess." -J.JK

What would you do if one day you woke up as Jeon Jungkook?

🫧His Gangster Girl | Jungkook X Gangster!Reader | 68 Chapters | Duration-8h 57m | completed

'She is a maze with no escape.'

🫧 Fuck It List | BFF!Jungkook X Reader | 60 Chapters | Duration-5h 30m | Completed

• Go skinny-dipping

• Have a make-out session

• Try foreplay with ice .....

˖°࿐ •⁀➷˖°࿐ •⁀➷˖°࿐ •⁀➷˖°࿐ •⁀➷˖°࿐ •⁀

MASTERLIST is here for other recommendations

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halfmoth-halfman · 8 months

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the willow maid

Pairing: Kyle “Gaz” Garrick x F!Reader Word Count: 5.2k Warnings: implied smut, blood, death, loss, bittersweet ending Prompt: Fairytale!AU & “It was the biggest mistake I ever made.” & the song, the willow maid by erutan Disclaimer: I do not own modern warfare or any of the modern warfare characters. A/N: here it is!!! the final fic for @glitterypirateduck’s GazFest 2023!! i hope you guys had as much fun with gazfest as i did!!! and thank you to the amazing glitterypirateduck for putting it all together!!!!! 💜

The tavern is nestled on the far edge of town, a barely held-together building run by an even more decrepit barkeep. Half resting on the edge of the forest, half consumed by the rich greenery, vines and roots split through the walls and upend the cracking cobblestones around it. The windows are covered in a layer of dust, door hanging on by a single bolt, entrance covered in years of muddy boot prints. Every imperfection is only amplified under the light of the early morning sun.

They’re given bread while they wait, circled around the lopsided table pressed up against the clean window, and MacTavish is the only one brave enough to try it. It’s good, if a bit off in a way he can’t fully describe; it’s sweet and light, but there’s a bitterness lurking on his tongue when he swallows.

The ale arrives and, with it, their long-awaited companion.

He’s quiet, Simon notices. There are only two other people in this tavern, a shifty-eyed child with no shoes and fidgeting hands and a cloaked figure lying with their head on the bar, but Simon hadn’t seen their newfound friend approach. It sets him on edge, more than usual.

(It had been MacTavish who found him, bursting into the inn they'd been staying at with a wide grin and a piece of torn parchment.

“Got a lead on the flower,” he’d said, handing Price the scrap to let him examine the hastily drawn map. “Met a man who claimed t’ have seen th’ bloom himself. Said to meet him there in three days’ time, jus’ after sunrise.”

Price had been skeptical, but it’d been weeks since their last lead dried up, and their gold was beginning to run low.. Desperate times, and all that.)

MacTavish told them everything he knew about his mysterious contact, but they hadn’t expected him to be so young.

Barely a year older than MacTavish, the man sits across from them with a polite smile and his hands clasped on the table where everyone can see them.

Everything about him is dark. His skin, his hair, his eyes. Even his cloak is a deep plum material, unpatterned and plain.

There’s nothing particularly special about him at first glance, but they know something’s not quite right about this man.

He’s too…clean, too put together. There’s no mud on his boots, no signs of hardship or travel, and his clothes are too purposefully plain despite the high quality of the stitching. His movements are too practiced, too elegant, as he takes a slice of bread and fills his cup with manners befitting someone of a far higher station. There’s not a mark or scratch on him, save for the single scratch across is left cheek.

This man is not what he seems.

“Your friend tells me you’re looking for the Willow’s Wail,” the man speaks, polished, measured, curious.

The three straighten at the mention of the flower.

It was supposed to be a myth, an old wives tale to tell your children when you put them to sleep. A story about a powerful Fae and a cunning boy who outfoxed her, obtaining a single seed from her garden as a reward.

But the boy, in his excitement at besting the Fair Fae, didn’t notice he’d dropped the seed just before leaving the fae realm. When the boy finally realized and returned to retrieve it, it was too late. The seed had fallen on the wrong side of the barrier between his world and theirs and he was forced to watch it grow until it bloomed a beautiful, glowing white.

The boy had one night to admire its beauty before its petals began to fall and the flower wilted. The wind carried the drifting petals, spreading them far and wide to bloom across the mortal realm. The boy was lucky enough to catch one, and it was said that the magic from that single petal granted the boy his heart's desire.

There were countless names for it.

Moondrop. Angel’s Kiss. Ghostheart. Star Rose.

It changed over the centuries, varying region by region, along with the story, but the details stayed the same.

A glowing, white flower that blooms for one night with enough potent magic in a single petal to keep you safe and sated for the rest of your life.

So many had claimed to have seen it, to have picked an entire bloom and reveled in its sweet scent. How many of the rich and mighty claimed to have one hidden in their vaults? How many urchins kept themselves going with the hope of one day finding a bloom, and pulling themselves from poverty?

How many rumors had their own merry little group chased, claiming to know where to find a moondrop or angel’s kiss or ghostheart?

Though, Simon’s never heard someone refer to it as the Willow’s Wail before.

“You know where to find one, I take it?” Price asks. The man nods through a mouthful of bread, taking a sip of the spiced honey ale before he answers.

“Not just where to find it,” he hums, picking at the crust of his bread. “I know how to grow one.”

That’s new.

There have been plenty who claimed to have found a petal. Even some who’ve said they’ve made their own deal with the Fae from the story.

But there’s never been someone who claimed to have a seed before.

The man says it so casually, Simon is almost inclined to believe him.

“S’pose ye’ll be wantin’ a trade for it?” MacTavish chuckles, already bracing himself for what will either be an absurd amount of coin or a request for a near-impossible task.

“Of sorts,” the man shrugs.

Simon does not like this, and one glance at Price tells him that the older man feels the same.

Price folds his arms across his chest, metal bracers clinking against his chest piece. “What’s your price?”

“A story,” the man simply says.

“You want us to tell you a story?” Even through the shrouded mask, the disbelief is clear in Simon’s voice.

This has to be a trick. The man is clearly a swindler, wasting their time to get a free meal.

“Quite the opposite,” the man laughs. “I’d like to tell you a story. One about how I came across this flower, and, if you manage to make it to the end, I’ll tell you how to grow the flower for yourselves.”

The trio shares a look of wary skepticism, knowing they all share the same thought. Something isn’t right here. It can’t be this simple, this easy. Not when they’ve spent months exhausting every resource, every contact–from officials in the high courts to the lowest of street urchins–available only to come up empty-handed.

This man is bold, brazen, and a liar. On that, they can all agree.

But there’s something about the way he’s so casually confident in his words. Something simmers just beneath the surface with this man. Something strange. Something…sad.

He may not be telling the truth about the flower, but they’re sure he has some information that could be valuable to them.

Price looks to the other two, brows raised in question. Simon and MacTavish each give him a single, reaffirming nod.

“Alright,” Price sighs, leaning back in his crooked chair. “Tell us your story, Mr…”

There’s an awkward pause when Price realizes MacTavish never gave him this man’s name, made only more awkward when MacTavish’s eyes widen as he realizes he doesn’t know the name, either.

The man takes it in stride, a soft chuckle as he tells them, “Garrick. Kyle Garrick.”

An old name. A rich name. A name written in royal histories about the first kings.

The name of a family that’s been dead for over a century.

There’s a hum around the table, a low buzz that sinks deep into their bones and weighs down their limbs.

Kyle sets his plate aside, staring them down with a toothy grin that doesn’t reach his eyes. Something flashes across his face, a brief flicker of silver barely caught in the sunlight. There are no words spoken, but they all know–

They are trapped here.

“We’ll start with something familiar, then,” Kyle hums, sharp eyes sliding over to MacTavish. The look of someone who’s obtained a victory.

“Once upon a time…”

…There were no kings or queens to rule over the land.

No kingdoms, or even cities.

There was simply the Village and the Forest.

It was a simple exchange, a simple harmony between the two. The Forest would provide food, lumber, livestock, and protection so that the village could thrive, and the villagers would take only what they needed. No more, no less.

The villagers did not ask where these things came from. They did not demand to know the name of their benevolent caretaker. They said their thanks, made their offerings, created festivals to celebrate their Forest.

They were grateful.

Until the night of the full moon, when a young man, drunk from a week of celebrating the harvest, wandered into the trees. It had been a dare, a test of bravery from the woman whose hand he sought.

“Name your price, and I swear to you, I’ll provide it!” the man had foolishly declared, loud enough for all of his friends to hear.

The woman had no intention of marrying him, desperate to be rid of his affections as she preferred another, richer man. She smirked at him, nose high in the air as she told him, “I’ll take your hand and name, but three things you must bring me. First, a ring made from the brightest star in the sky. Second, a dress sewn from the silk of the sea spider queen that resides in the lake–”

Already an impossible task, a joke made of the proposal and the man.

But the woman was not finished, her grin cruel as she spoke her final request, “And last, a cloak made from the hide of the rarest creature to dwell in the Forest.”

Where there had been laughter, silence now loomed.

To go into the Forest…

It had never been done, an unspoken rule passed down through generations. They were only meant to take, to thank, to leave. Never to enter.

But the man would not be deterred, a dangerous mix of love and liquid courage coursing through his veins.

He turned on his heels, picked up his bow, and marched straight into the Forest.

It didn’t take long for the noises of the village to fade behind him, and the world to grow dark. The trees were too thick for the moonlight to reach, plunging him into unfamiliar darkness.

But the man would not be discouraged. He pressed forward, walking until his legs shook and the drink wore off, determined to find his rare creature.

And a rare creature he did find.

After hours in the black of the Forest, the man heard a voice. A sweet song, drifting through the leaves to reach down into his very soul. He felt light, the pain in his muscles fading as it lured him deeper and deeper and deeper.

–Into the very heart of the Forest.

A weeping willow larger than any tree he’d ever seen resting in a ring of red toadstools. So large was it, it broke the canopy of the Forest, its weeping white blooms glowing in the pale moonlight. Soft petals and catkins drifted in the gentle breeze, littering the pale blue grass beneath his feet.

And there, in the gold of its branches laid her.

Skin textured like bark, clothed in a dress of draping pale petals, hair so long it wound high into the branches, the Willow Maid sang into the warm, night air.

Entranced by her voice, her beauty, her presence, the man abandoned his bow. His proposal forgotten, he stepped forward eager to hear more of the maiden’s song.

Unable to keep his arms from her ethereal form, he unwittingly stepped over the threshold of toadstools. A gust of wind carried the last of her song, as she turned in her branches to stare down at him.

A piercing gaze, ever-shifting through the colors of the rarest gems. She watched him, staring into him, around him, through him.

Cautious. Curious.

So overcome by her beauty was he, the man spoke without thought, “Fair Willow Maid, I would seek forgiveness for interrupting your lovely song.”

A dangerous thing, to be indebted to her, but the man did not care.

“Then my forgiveness is granted,” she said, voice echoing in the drifting of leaves and waves of the grass. “But it is not forgiveness which brought you to my willow bed. You seek the hand of a woman. A love to be bought and born of my demise.”

“A hide,” he corrected, flinching under her accusation. “Of the rarest creature to dwell in this Forest.”

“What is rarer than the Forest’s own master?”

The man could not answer, stunned by this revelation.

Master of the forest, of beasts, and of men. And he had sought to kill her for a love unrequited.

“You will return to the object of your desires, a failure. My hide is mine own, and I will not allow it to be taken by a love-sickened hunter.”

Foolish and guilty the man may have been, but he was also clever, and a solution quickly came to his mind.

He could not return with the hide, but that did not mean he had to return empty-handed.

“Come with me, dear maiden,” he called into the branches. “Come from thy willow bed, and meet those who would worship at your feet.”

There was no anger in her, no offense at the thought she would be so vain as to want of worship, but instead peace.

Calm.

Serenity.

A gentle, pitying smile, her voice soft as the moonlight, “I cannot leave this place, daring hunter. Instead, I may present you with a parting gift.”

The winds shifted, drooping branches caressed his face.

The man blinked and found himself at the Forest’s edge, staring out at the sun rising over his village with his bow in hand. Around his neck hung a locket of pure gold, a glowing white willow carved into the center.

“I give you this gift,” her voice drifted into his ears, faint and distant. “Proof that you have been blessed by my forest. You may return if you’d like, but I warn you. Don’t ask me to follow where you lead.”

Kyle pauses to take a drink, his attention elsewhere long enough for their limbs to loosen slightly.

“Tha’s quite the tale ye have,” MacTavish says once he regains control of his mouth.

“So, the flowers are Fae magic,” Price hums. “Guess the stories were right about that.”

“More than you’d think,” Kyle sighs, a bitter chuckle as he sets down his cup.

“Forests are all cut down and contained now,” Simon says, cold, calculating eyes kept on Kyle.

“Aye, and th’ Fae Folk are all but gone,” MacTavish adds. There’s a grimace on Kyle’s face, a flinch that he covers by pretending to rub at his eyes.

“The flowers must be left over from the willows, then?” Price deduces, his head tilted towards their storyteller. Kyle shrugs, with a noncommittal nod that sets off alarms in Simon’s head.

“Where did you hear this story?” the masked mask asks. “We’ve heard all of the tales, the bedtime stories, the songs. Yet, I don’t think we’ve ever heard of a Willow Maid.”

“Very few have,” Kyle says simply. “For good reason.”

“And we’re supposed to believe you?” Simon scoffs. “A man we hardly know, telling a story no one else has heard of, about a flower that might not even exist.” He looks to Price, the request clear in his eyes.

This is a waste of time. We should leave.

“The deal wasn’t for you to believe me.” Kyle’s voice is sharp, a dangerous edge laced across the tight smile on his face. “The deal was for you to listen.”

The word hisses from his mouth, and Simon feels his muscles tighten painfully. MacTavish groans next to him, and Simon knows he and Price are feeling the same. A weight holds them down, keeps them in their chairs, unable to move or look at anything other than Kyle.

Kyle simply smiles.

“If I may continue?”

…The village had hailed him a hero.

To have gone into the Forest, and emerged with its blessing? There was no higher achievement, no feat more accomplished.

They showered him in gifts, in favors, in endless wealth.

The woman whose hand he sought all but threw herself into his arms, so proud to accept his proposal now.

Yet, he denied it all. He did not want gold nor gems nor silks. He did not care if he had the biggest house, the fattest livestock, the fullest larder.

His heart’s true desire rested in the heart of the Forest, nestled safely in her tree.

He visited the Willow Maid often, disappearing into the Forest trees for weeks at a time. Others tried to follow him, tried to gain the Forest’s favor just as he had. All but him were spurned, led into the depth of the trees only to be twisted and turned and led back to where they had started.

The woman he once sought grew so green with jealousy, she marched into the Forest promising to find what had stolen his affections with a sharp knife and bundle of matchsticks. She never returned, and the Forest refused to provide until the man visited again to apologize on the village’s behalf.

They stopped following him after that.

The man was not bothered, content to be left alone with his Willow Maid. He enjoyed his time, resting in the shade of her tree, listening to her sing or telling her tales from his childhood. He spoke with her, laughed with her, learned about her and her Forest and her creatures.

Years passed, and his visits grew. He had befriended her, treasured her, loved her.

And she loved him in return.

The village was alight with rumor and speculation when the man walked into the Forest, dressed in his finest with a bundle of fresh sunflowers in hand.

Unwavering faith. Admiration. Sincerity.

To love until the end.

A proposal with the highest affections.

He stood beneath her willow and wrapped the flowers in the moonlit branches. They carried the fresh blooms to his love, his declaration loud for all of the Forest to hear–

“You’ve captured my heart, my sweet Willow Maid. With your Forest’s blessing, I would be honored to be your groom.”

She smelled the sunflowers, cradling them in her arms like the most precious of gifts. She released them to the branches, watching them drift high into the willow, out of her sight and out of his.

The wind whispered across his cheek, blossoms shrouding the maiden before she appeared before him at the base of the tree. He took her into his arms, holding her close against him. Everything about her was perfect, the velvet soft petals of her gown, the radiating warmth of her skin, the smell of ambrosia in her hair.

There would be no other for him, in this life and every life.

His heart was completely hers, just as hers was his.

“My dear, darling hunter,” she spoke, her hands a soft caress on his cheeks. “I can wed you never. Not near, nor far, nor soon.”

A heart-shattering rejection that would have ruined him for love eternally had she not looked so mournful. So regretful.

“Why?” he begged. “What is it that keeps you from me?”

A hand on his heart, the other on her tree he feels the pulse–the life–thrum through her fingertips. “I told you, I cannot leave this place.”

He grasped her hand in his, his voice a sweet murmur as he gave her his solution. “Then don’t.”

A long-awaited kiss, and an even longer-awaited night possessed by the feel, the touch, the love of one another. A promise of dedication, of ever-lasting love. Whispers sewn into the infinite roots of her willow.

They rested against her tree after, pressed against one another as she traced along his chest, a glowing willow forever marked over his heart.

“The Forest is not your home, my lovely hunter, and I would not be so cruel as to bind you to it. You may come and go as you please. I will always be here, awaiting your visits, but you cannot ask me to follow where you lead.”

A plea unheard, falling deaf on sleeping ears.

The barkeep comes to refill the ale, and the pressure releases as Kyle thanks him with a smile.

“This is startin’ to sound…personal,” MacTavish jokes, and Price is thankful for the man’s sharp eyes and unrestrained tongue.

Kyle murmurs something they don’t catch, lips quirking up at the corners.

“Perhaps it is,” he shrugs. There’s something playful in his tone. Mischievous. As if he's proud of their keen attentions.

“Laying with the Fae’s an awfully bold thing to do, but promising yourself to one?” Price lets out a low whistle.

“Foolish, more like,” MacTavish chuckles.

It wasn’t unheard of. There were stories of humans being whisked away in the night to live a life of comfort and luxury among their Fae lovers. They were mostly fairytales, told to satisfy young children and hopeless romantics, as most of those who’d grown already knew of the dangers of the Fae.

They knew the true nature of the Fae, and that a mortal’s comfort often went hand in hand with servitude. Wealth and luxury were rewards for proper entertainment and could be stripped away at a moment’s notice. The Fae were as cruel as they were kind, and their promises were not to be taken lightly.

“Maybe a little of both,” Kyle hums. “Love makes fools of even the best of us.”

“I’ll drink t’ tha’!” MacTavish laughs, and the pressure in his limbs loosens enough to allow him to toast his cup against Kyle’s.

“So,” Simon speaks up, flexing his hands as a test of mobility. When he’s given range, he leans back his chair, one hand resting around his cup. “What happened next?”

There’s something mournful in Kyle’s smile. A pained regret they very easily recognize.

They’ve all known that sting of loss.

“What happened next…”

…It was the tree.

The willow–her willow–kept her bound to the Forest, away from her love. She had tried everything in her power to make it see reason, to let her wander from its ring of toadstools.

She made offerings, formed new creatures to take her stead, begged at its roots.

It denied her every time.

The man tried to stay with her, but I–he could not thrive in the moonlight alone. He could not live off of Forest’s magic as she could. He had to return to the village.

They were resigned to spend their years as often apart as with each other. Not a moment together was wasted. Their joinings were beautiful–soft and tender and full of love–and their partings were miserable. They mourned in their time away, grief-stricken and sick with yearning for their other half.

Five years of this unending misery, and the man had had enough.

He stormed through the forest, a fury of determination. The trees parted for him, in fear of the sharpness of his eyes and of the axe in his hands.

He was going to take his faerie—his wife—and free her from her prison. They were going to be happy together, raise their children together, live their lives together as they were meant to.

He did not waste time when he reached the clearing, did not give her warning before his first swing.

The roots sprung forth, ripping through the earth to lash at the hunter, striking across his face to draw blood from his cheek.

Still, he did not stop.

Neither did the tree.

The Willow Maid dove from its branches, shielding her hunter’s body with her own, taking the strike in his place.

The willow halted its assault, axe planted firmly in its trunk.

She stumbled to her feet, the split across her back dripping into the pale grass, staining its blades a shimmering gold. She stepped a sure foot forward, crushing the toadstools beneath her bare feet, and took the axe in hand.

The echoes of her wailing melted into the cracking of the wood.

The cry of her willow as it fell would haunt the forest for a millennium.

She collapsed into sobs, but it was not for her willow that she cried. She cradled the bloodied body of her poor, dear hunter close to her chest. Hair falling around them, its long tendrils soaked by the sweet smelling blood-sap oozing from her tree.

She wept.

For him, for her, for their freedom and love.

She wept.

Her willow personified.

She waited until he was strong enough to stand, to face her, to hold her. A kiss over the cold corpse of her once caretaker.

He led her back through the forest, hand clasped tightly around hers, ready to bring her home. His home, her home, their home.

When they came to the forest edge, she gasped at the sight of the village. The burning orange sunset streaked across the fields, the speckle of lights from their windows against the darkening land, the sound of cheer and laughter and freedom.

Her smile was bright enough to rival the stars, eager to start her new life with her love eternal.

Two steps past the forest edge.

That was as far as she got.

Two steps beyond the threshold and her knees buckled beneath her. Her hunter held onto her, lowering her into the warm grass. Her body seized in his arms, barkskin peeling and flaking into thin wood chips. Cheeks sinking in, hair thinning into long blades of grass, petal clothes wilting against her body.

She pawed at his face, eyes wild with fear and confusion. Her whimpers and wordless pleas broke his heart, begging every god he could think of to fix his sweet Willow Maid.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

She was supposed to be safe. They were supposed to be happy. Together.

He felt her fade, her body melting in his arms, and a shrieking lament tore from his throat as he lost his one and only love, left with only her dim golden blood sliding through his fingers.

The sun set, the moon taking its place high in the sky.

The wind whispered across his skin, a fresh sting against the cut on his cheek, carrying with it the voice of her fallen willow.

“You’ve stolen from me that which is most precious. Don’t you know that pain you sow is pain you reap?”

The Forest murmurs, trees rustled in the growing moonlight. Shimmering silver growing and growing from the dense woods, until it was almost blinding.

“You have taken but you have not given in return, and so I make this trade instead. I will take from you what you took from me.”

The golden blood began to glow on his hands, glow on the ground, glow in the moonlight, light rising and rising and rising. It skimmed petal-soft across his hands, slinking into the grass where the dirt drank and digested it.

There was shouting from the village as the lights crescendoed into one final, blinding beam then faded entirely. Everything was left in muted, dull tones as if the color was stripped from the world, the Forest silent and still for the first time since its conception.

He knew that the Forest would provide for them no longer.

All that remained was a beautiful, glowing flower. A moon-white blossom, a cruel reminder of what he had done.

The earth rumbled beneath his feet, one last biting sentence from the willow.

“You can not take from the Forest what was never meant to leave.”

Kyle finishes his tale with a sigh of longing.

“It was the biggest mistake I ever made,” he says, eyes cast down at the table.

“A cruel lesson,” Price laments, eyes full of sympathy for the young man.

“And one repaid in blood,” Kyle sighs grimly. He takes a deep swig, setting his cup aside as the pressure lifts entirely from the group across from him.

“The flower wilted by morning, taken from me forever, and I…did not respond kindly. I took up arms against the Forest’s creatures, hunted them to near extinction, and cut down every tree in sight. The magic was gone, but my people rejoiced. They named me Garrick, Spear King.”

The table goes still.

They’ve heard of the Great Spear King. There’s not a soul alive who hasn’t. The story of how he founded the kingdoms, brought the world to rule under one benevolent ruler, was taught to every child, passed on through every generation.

There were holidays named for him. Parades in his honor.

Respects paid to his burial chambers every year.

Kyle watches the realization wash over them, the skepticism, the caution. He stands from the table, a small gesture out the window.

“The ruins of my village lie a tenday’s walk in that direction. Just beyond the flooded river, in a deep valley. There are remnants, sometimes, when the moon is brightest. You may not get everything you wished for, but there is power in that soil.”

“And that’s what the others found? Is it truly soil that they keep hidden in their vaults? Is it dirt that they credit their wealth and power to?” Simon scoffs.

“If it is, it’s not from the Fae,” Kyle shrugs. “There’s nothing left of their magic in this world. I made sure of it.”

“Then, why tell us?” MacTavish questions. The once-king shrugs again, adjusting the fastening of his cloak.

“Curiosity? Boredom? Or perhaps, I just wanted someone to know the truth, and you lot seemed trustworthy enough.”

It should be a compliment, the highest honor given from the man who founded their nation, but it feels…sad.

“I wish you luck, travelers. It is a rare day indeed that I find myself so open to sharing secrets.”

Kyle doesn’t wait for them to say their goodbyes, or say anything really. He gives them a curt nod, and turns to head up the stairs to the tavern’s second floor.

They wait until nightfall to leave, making their way down the path under the shroud of darkness.

Kyle watches from the window of his room, sitting tucked in the windowsill. His cloak abandoned on the uneven bed, he smooths his thumb over the well-worn metal of the locket around his neck. The tree’s glow is dim, barely noticeable unless he cups his hands around it, but it’s there.

He waits until the trio fades from his vision, shifting against the rotting wood to sit up straight. The moonlight casts its shine down through the foggy panes, but it’s enough light to satisfy him.

Pressing his fingers into the sides of locket, he holds it under the light as it opens with a soft click.

Petals burst from the seams, throwing the locket open to release a beautiful, bountiful white bloom. The flower soaks up the moonlight, waves of golden light pulsing over its velvet petals.

For one moment, he is that young man again, no longer carrying the burden of loss in his eyes, or the torment of a man who has been granted the curse of eternal life.

He presses a tender kiss to the flower. “I’ve missed you, my love.”

The flower glows just a bit brighter.

#gazfest #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #gaz #mw fics #moth writes #tw: blood #tw: death #tw: loss #private

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violettduchess · 5 months

Note

Cyran gangster spice ^^

A/N: Here you go, anon! I hope you like it!

Cyran x Reader, Gangster AU/ Gangster x Doctor AU

TW: blood, injury, needles

WC:~2.2 k

The ringing cracks the silence of your darkened bedroom like a sledgehammer on ice. You push yourself up, still bleary with sleep, one hand fumbling through the gloom for your phone which should be sleeping too, well-behaved and quiet on your nightstand. It takes another second of angry ringing before you realize it’s not your personal phone. It’s the other phone. The one in the top drawer, rattling the items inside of it as it vibrates in time to the ringing, demanding attention. The phone you don’t want to hear going off, especially not in the heart of nighttime.

Sleep evaporates like frost on a sunny morning as you yank the drawer open and grab the small, nondescript black device. Caller unknown. But you know who it is. Only one person has this number.

“Hello?” Your voice is fuzzy with sleep.

“Good evening. Does your store sell copies of fairy tales? I’m looking for Little Red Riding Hood, the Rosenbrand edition. I hear there are only 10 copies left in circulation.”

Your heart sinks. Red Riding Hood means a serious injury, something bloody. Rosenbrand means the flower shop location. Ten copies means be there in 10 minutes.

“I’m afraid you have the wrong number.” The standard response. Your code for I’ll be there.

On the other end, the voice you know to be Nokto’s hangs up and you leap out of bed, changing into dark jeans and a black sweater, yanking open the closet to grab your medical kit and then you’re off, dashing out of your apartment and into the deceptively calm night.

You slip into the dark flower shop via the backdoor and immediately the velvet scent of roses overwhelms you. It is their specialty after all. And their symbol. Anywhere the Rhodolite Mafia goes, roses follow in their wake, their dark red petals scattered across crime scenes like little calling cards. Their members all bear the same rose tattoo on their bodies. You don’t have a tattoo. You’re not a member, officially but you are on their payroll and under their protection. So says the delicate golden rose and chain that hangs around your neck, resting against your heart.

You punch in the security code and a door at the back slides open, revealing a set of cement steps that lead down, down, down until you reach the bottom and step into the large room that the mafia uses for all medical emergencies. Your own private little examination room. And if necessary, OR.

For the second time that night, your heart stops. Laying back on the examination table is the one person whose name flashed through your mind like a neon sign the entire moonlit dash here, the one who you were silently hoping wouldn’t be your patient.

Cyran.

His shirt has been unbuttoned and he has bloodied gauze pressed against his arm, his dark eyes closed as he focuses on keeping pressure on his own wound. Clavis turns, golden eyes bright as an owl’s in the dim light.

“What happened?” Your tone is short, brisk. Every nerve in your body is on high alert as you pull on your latex gloves, moving towards Cyran.

“Blade, not a bullet.” Clavis steps back as you move in, the next steps of assessment as automatic to you as breathing. Cyran’s eyes open, only now aware you are there and you notice the flash of something across his features, some light in the depths of the fog of pain that he’s in. Your name passes his lips, a rough whisper.

“Altercation at the docks. Obsidian thugs thought they would be able to disrupt an important shipment.” Clavis’s phone chirps and he turns away from where you are working, removing Cyran’s shirt, cleaning up the bloody mess so you can get a better idea of what you’re dealing with.

You glance over your shoulder at him, the slight frown on his face as he reads whatever message he’s received.

“You ok, Lelouch?”

He fixes a bright smile on his face, but the light never reaches his eyes.

“I have to go.” No explanation. You are too low on the food chain for those. “Take good care of my right-hand man. I need him back in action soon and in one piece.”

You flick him a two-fingered salute and he nods, knowing Cyran is in good hands. As he jogs up the stairs, you hear him on his phone.

“....On my way, Chev….” The door at the top of the stairs closes with a heavy thunk and you are left alone with somewhat less bloody, very tense Cyran.

His shirt has been cast away, banished to a red and white heap on the floor which you casually kick to one side as you lean in to get a better look at his upper arm, where an ugly gash cuts across his deltoid. Reaching up to adjust the overhead lamp, you open your medical kit and begin the careful process of stitching the taunt skin back together. He hasn’t said a word since Clavis left, stoically staring straight ahead, intensely focused on the concrete wall opposite him.

Your head is bowed down, gaze following the rise and fall of your curved needle, the rational, medical part of your mind tightening its grip on the reins of your imagination. After all, there is an entire landscape of shirtless Cyran laid out in front of you. Curves of hard muscle that dip and bulge, secret places usually hidden by austere suits or leather jackets.

You’re close enough to hear the coarse sound of his inhale as you grip his arm. Clearing your throat you make an attempt to pierce the thick fog of tension that has settled over the room.

“Why is it always blades with you? Other members have the decency to just get shot.”

Your comment is so unexpected and honestly, so intentionally ludicrous that he turns his head involuntarily. Now his face is mere inches away from yours and you can feel his gaze on you as strongly as sunshine on a summer’s morning. And just like the sun, it brings a warmth to your cheeks that you hope he doesn’t notice.

He grunts as you finish suturing the injury, glancing down to take in your handiwork. You straighten up, adjusting your weight on the small padded stool you’ve been sitting on.

“And? Do I pass inspection, Mr. Rose?”

Something about the tone of your voice, an attempt at lightheartedness that skims over the jagged peaks of anxiety, has him finally meet your gaze and the corner of his mouth lifts in a small smile.

“You always do, doc.”

Those words settle across your mind like a silken sheet across a bed. You’re about to pull off your gloves, searching for something to say when you notice the blood staining the top of his gray slacks.

“What’s this…..?” You lean forward, glancing at him for permission to reach into the hem of his pants and take a look. An expression you don’t expect crosses his face: he looks almost sheepish.

“I….I was involved in a scuffle last week.”

You motion for him to lower his pants, trying to ignore what the sight of Cyran’s large, rough hands pulling down his zipper does to your body temperature. He slides his pants down slowly, just low enough for you to be given a tantalizing glimpse of that alluring line where the obliques meet the transversus abdominis muscle.

Medical professionalism trumps lust as you take in the shoddy stitching at his hip.

“What quack did this?” You’re already preparing another needle and thread, brow furrowed in annoyance.

“I did it myself.”

You glance up sharply, hands pausing for a moment.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

You return to the work of fixing his on-the-fly patch job. He’s silent a moment and you wait, knowing he heard you. It takes him until you’re nearly done to answer.

“You know I couldn’t.”

Your work is finished and yet somehow you can’t move you away, one hand resting on the hard plane of his lower stomach, the other pressed lightly under the wound you’ve just finished re-stitching. Slowly you tilt your head up to look at him. He’s backlit by the overhead lamplight, his red hair almost black because of it. Shadow falls across the angles of his face and all you can see clearly is the brightness of his eyes. As if pulled by a magnet, your upper body rises slowly, your face coming closer to his. Carefully, with every other part of you crystallized in place, you remove your gloves, then return your hands to where they were, touching the now warm skin of his body.

Your lips are scant inches apart and your heart slams into your breastbone as if urging you forward to close the gap.

Cyran’s beautiful eyes close and his head turns ever so slightly away from you.

“We can’t.”

The words are tight in a way that tells you he doesn’t want to say them, that he’s forcing them out between clenched teeth.

Still so close, you breathe outward and you know he feels the warmth on his cheek. Your nose brushes his, your lips ache at how close they are to the paradise of his kiss.

“We already have,” you whisper in return, forgetting everything: the phone calls in the dead of night. The hiding in secret rooms tricked out with medical equipment. The heart-stopping anxiety every time you think you hear gunshots. All that you know right now is that he’s here, warm to your touch, so close you can count every individual eyelash.

His eyes flutter open and he meets your gaze.

“And it can never happen again.”

It’s there, in the depths of his soulful eyes. The memory of….

….that night, the one where he escorted you home under a black sky, raging with thunder and pent up clouds. Your skirt was stained with blood that wasn’t yours, your fingers trembling with a fear that definitely was. Your car, several streets away, gasping with bullet holes. Cyran had been there, had whisked you away in an armored vehicle and insisted on seeing you to your apartment, on coming inside and making sure everything was secure.

When he turned to go, every nerve in your body screamed at once at the loss. You launched yourself towards him, a wild bird in flight, and he had welcomed you into the sky of his arms, pulling you against the safety of his hard body. He held you until the trembling stopped.

And then the world exploded as the clouds released their pent-up rain and you had lifted yourself up to press your mouth to his. Cyran pushed his fingers into your hair with a groan, allowing himself to fall, a raindrop from heaven, a soul giving in, into you and your sweetness, your want, your heated kisses.

The wild storm had nothing on the two of you, that night.

You see the way the memory is reaching for you both at once, has you both angling your heads so that only the slightest movement will have your mouths touch once again. Your lips actually hurt with need. Your body practically thrums with the desire to taste him again.

He shifts and suddenly the metal pan holding the needle and thread and gauze clatters to the ground, his thigh having bumped it off the table’s edge. The loud crash shatters the moment and you both jump apart, hearts racing. Cyran clears his throat, his head shaking as if waking himself from a dream. When he speaks, the same words you have heard too many times since that night fall from his lips.

His life is dangerous.

You are already way too involved.

The reality of being with him is nothing but heartache and worry.

You need to remain as innocent and ignorant as possible, for plausibility, deniability, for your own damn safety.

He could never live with himself if anything happened to you…..

The flow of words stops as you press your finger to his lips. A sigh like the storm-buffeted waves of the ocean escapes him, shaky and uninhibited. The touch turns into the kiss you’ve been hungering for, except it's not the crush of his mouth on yours, the stampede of desire come to call, but rather the softest press to your fingertip, the fleeting caress of a butterfly’s wing.

Your heart both sinks and lifts, a paradox of emotion flowing through you.

He turns his face into your hand, his usual stoicism bled out by the force of his feelings for you. Pain, longing, tenderness bow his shoulders, pull kiss after kiss from his lips to your palm. You slide your hand across the line of his cheekbone, thumb stroking the rough stubble there. And then you lean down, pressing a petal-soft kiss to his forehead.

Cyran is still as a winter’s night, frozen despite the thundering of his heart. He knows this is for the best….but how much longer can he continue to do the right thing?

You start to pull away, turning towards the stairs that lead up and away, back into the night and its bright, cold stars, when something clamps around your wrist, stopping you.

You turn to see him, eyes flashing with something hot and bright, his strong fingers wrapped around you, holding you. He whispers your name, an echo of the rough whisper from earlier, when he first realized you were there, and you capitulate, crumbling into the shelter of his embrace even as your mouths seek and find each other.

If not doing this, if not kissing you desperately, touching you, claiming you, if not doing these things is the right thing…..then Cyran is tired of it.

Forget the right thing. He lives a life that blossoms in the shadows of right and wrong anyway. Right and wrong are shades of gray in his world. And now as he drags his mouth down the smooth line of your neck, revels in the sting of your fingernails digging into his shoulder, he knows that he can deny this, and you, no longer.

He sinks into dark temptation, caring for nothing other than right here and now.

Tagging: @xbalayage @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @rhodoliteschaos @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @myonlyjknight @portrait-ninja @ikesimpleton @ikemenlibrary @mastering-procrastinating @namine-somebodies-nobody @greatstarlightstarfish @queen-dahlia @scorchieart @nightghoul381 @bubblexly @wordycheesecake

#ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri cyran #cyran rose #ikemen cyran #gangster au #doctor au #ikepri costume challenge #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen fanfic #otome fanfic #violettwrites

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theharrowing · 6 months

Text

Carnival of Terror 🎪 2: Get lost!

The carnival is in town, and it is unlike anything you have ever experienced. Will you make it out alive?

🎪 Yoongi x Female Reader, Yoongi x Jungkook

🎪 word count: 9.2k

🎪 choose your own adventure, lovers and friends to ???, carnival and circus au, dead dove, horror, possible minor & major character injury & death, supernatural elements & magic realism, nsfw, 21+

🎪 warnings: You remember everything; general feelings of discomfort and creepiness; (fake) graphic gore (the illusion of a body being torn in half and blood flying everywhere); anxiety; Yoongi is a handsy menace; semi-public smut (fingering, cunnilingus, sloppy vaginal sex, cum eating, multiple orgasms); assumption of infidelity (on Yoongi's part); momentary loss of time & disorientation; dubiously consensual hypnosis; magical realism; relationship drama; a bit of a physical altercation; He who has been wronged has been granted a wish. Just one wish.

🎪 note: all of the above details and warnings are subject to change as the story progresses & the readers vote. check the master post for an updated version of the details. although this fic does not deal directly with infidelity, if you are sensitive to that topic, the themes in this chapter might make you uncomfortable.

🎪 beta read by @neoneunnajimin!

🎪 posted oct. 2023 | read on ao3

PREVIOUS | INDEX | NEXT

Welcome back to the Greatest Show in the World!

We left off in the Illusions performance, with Ringmaster Namjoon spinning a terrifying tale, and you choosing heads to remember everything.

Music comes into sharp focus, and your head droops low and then shoots up, eyes focusing on the stage show before you. The song that plays is sensual, and there are three women in white leotards with short, flowing skirts that dance around a man wearing only black pants. They reach for one another, but every time the man almost touches one of the women, she is pulled away by long elastic bands connected to a white harness around their hips, and she spins somewhere high above.

Briefly, you consider turning to Yoongi or Jeongguk to remark on the blend of ballet and acrobatics as the women elongate their limbs and twirl high above your head with grace and fluidity. But you find that all you can do is watch the performers, eyes only moving to follow the lifts, spins, and falls of the women, unable to look anywhere else.

It seems as if this dance is going to be one in which the man chases and chases and never catches, but then he jolts forward and takes one of the women by the wrists, causing you to gasp as the other two women spin high toward the ceiling and do not come back down.

The music swells and builds at an alarming speed as the man begins to spin, holding the woman by the wrist while his feet move in tight, quick circles, around and around and around to the cacophonic sounds of fingers slamming into ivory keys.

You feel dizzy as the woman becomes nothing but a white streak, and you think that you might be able to hear her scream. The pounding of your heart syncs with the quick tempo and rate at which the performers spin.

And then, in a horrifying display, the woman rips clear in half at the ribs. Her waist and legs, trapped in the harness, go flying high above while her top half continues to be spun by the man, and you watch as dark red blood sprays and sprays from her torso, painting the stark white floor in streaks. Your eyes only manage to tear away when Namjoon – who seems to appear in a blink just outside the center of the ring, right in front of you, holds his cane high, forcing your focus on the spinning legs above.

Although it appears to be blood that rains from the ceiling, as soon as it reaches you, you realize that it is blood-red glitter and sequins that shimmer in the light as they cascade down. And then the music bursts loud and abrupt and the legs that spin high above turn into white flower petals that float toward the crowd, dancing in the air as the music slows and slows.

The slow, somber melody gradually stops and you return your gaze to the center of the stage, where the dancers all stand hand in hand. The man and all three women are in a line, and all intact, and they bow and spin and bow over and over, facing each side of the tent, while members of the audience begin to clap.

You feel too stunned to move and yet, your hands lift and clap with the rest, unable to resist joining in. And then Namjoon shouts something you are unable to understand, and with a loud single smack of his hands, you jump, heavy-blinking and looking around you as everyone else seems to be getting their bearings, as well.

"What the fuck was that?" you ask, turning first toward Jeongguk on your right, to glance down at the others, and then to Yoongi on your left.

"Pretty amazing, huh?" Yoongi asks, and although you nod, you are not sure exactly how you feel.

Everything looked so real, and try as you might, you cannot figure out how they managed to rip the woman in half like that. And what was up with the trance-like state you felt? Nothing seems to add up, including Jack appearing out of nowhere and asking you to choose heads or tails.

Heads, you see all; tails, you only remember what feels good.

You chose heads without giving it any thought, despite not fully understanding what his proposition meant. To your right, you can hear Jimin and Taehyung talking about falling glitter, and you wonder if they also chose heads, since they also seem to remember what they just saw.

"Where to, next?" Yoongi asks, voice low and deep, and so close to your ear that it makes you jump.

Yoongi laughs at you, and you shake your head, fixing him with side-eye before turning to the rest of the group and leaning forward to see the others, past Jeongguk.

"Where to, next?" you repeat for the group, waiting for Taehyung and Jimin to finish muttering and turn their attention to you.

"Hall of mirrors!" Jeongguk shouts but he is outnumbered by Jimin and Taehyung who say, "Tunnel of Love!"

"I also vote for Tunnel of Love," Yoongi responds too close for comfort, but this time you ignore him, focusing on how your friends watch you anticipatorily.

"Well," you say, looking to Jeongguk, "since you're outnumbered anyway, how about Tunnel of Love first, then Hall of Mirrors?"

Jeongguk shrugs, for which you are relieved, murmuring, "Whatever. That sounds fine."

All around you, audience members are standing and making their way out, and before you know it, your group is some of the last people in the tent. Instinctively, you glance to the center of the ring, and you are surprised to find Jack – this time dressed in the same black outfit he wore at the rubber ducky game – standing in the center of the floor, facing you.

"So weird," you mutter to yourself, feeling a chill work down your spine as you tear your eyes away from the man in the black jester outfit. You are sure it is just part of their job to be creepy, in order to immerse audience members in the experience, but the way he watches you feels almost menacing.

Yoongi begins to stand, and so you do the same, followed by the rest of the guys. You walk out the way you came in, to the left, past the bleachers, then to the right, and along the back. The inside of the tent is dark enough that when you reach the exit, you find yourself squinting against the sun.

Shimmering in the bright sunlight, covering Yoongi's overgrown, dark hair, are little bits of red glitter, and you chuckle as you reach up and rub your hand over it, causing glitter to burst and fall around his shoulders like dust.

"Whoa!" Jeongguk exclaims, "where did all this come from?"

You turn to find Jeongguk running his hand through his own hair and then looking at the glitter as if he has never seen it before.

"What are you talking about?" you ask, realizing Jimin and Taehyung are also looking at each other's glitter-reddened hair with puzzled expressions.

"I thought it was blue," Taehyung murmurs, to which Jimin says, "Yeah, wasn't the glitter blue? Like rain?"

"Rain?" you ask, confused, trying to remember which part of the show had rain. Could there have been something that you missed while Jack was standing in front of you? But you are sure that he could not have distracted you from too much of the performance.

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out, and you find your lips moving around silent vowels and consonants. Too many sentences fight to be voiced, but you struggle to speak.

"Tunnel of Love is this way," Taehyung says, turning the group's attention to the right.

Although your body moves in line with the others, you almost feel tugged along by some kind of thread, partially dissociated from your skin. Your limbs feel heavy, the sun is hotter than you remember, and you worry you might be on the verge of a panic attack.

An arm slots around your waist from the left, and you breathe in a familiar musk, hoping that it will assist with centering you a little. Yoongi reaches over with his other hand to tap the bird keychain at your hip.

"Such a cute little ducky," he mutters.

You hum in response but feel suddenly snapped out of whatever weird trance you felt under. Perhaps it is the deep, comforting cadence of Yoongi's voice, or the weight of his arm over your shoulder, but you take in a deep breath of fresh air, and when you exhale, you feel much clearer.

"I like it," you respond belatedly, turning your head to smile at Yoongi, who smiles back.

He leans close, lips nearly touching your ear as he says, "I wonder if the Tunnel of Love will be nice and dark."

"Yoongi," you groan, leaning your hip into his as if to push him away, but putting hardly any weight into it. "Can't go one day without being a perv?"

Yoongi chuckles, shaking you with the rise and fall of his shoulders. "Never. I would have my hands and lips on you constantly, if I could."

Although Yoongi speaks quietly, you still clear your throat and look at the three in front of you. Sure, your friends are aware by now that you and Yoongi hook up – you may not have an official title beyond being friends, but there is no question that there are certain benefits the two of you provide one another that are not provided to the others.

At least, as far as you know. There does seem to be some kind of history between Yoongi and Jeongguk, but Yoongi has never mentioned what it entails and you do not feel it is your place to pry.

Still, you wish he would refrain from being so forward in public. If one of the others were to overhear it, you would feel really fucking embarrassed.

As you approach the Tunnel of Love, you see a short queue of people waiting outside. Luckily, there is a little awning over the entrance that provides shade, which you look forward to waiting under. As you approach, you realize this is a water ride, and you feel anxious at the prospect of getting wet.

On the left side of the building is an archway over which the words Tunnel of Love glow in bright red lights, where couples are lined up. As a small canoe-looking boat painted bright blue and pink comes out of a similar tunnel on the far right side of the building, in which a couple sits holding hands and giggling, you watch as the boat pulls around to the entrance and the couple gets out.

A new couple walks up three short steps and gets into the boat with the assistance of an attendant wearing all black, standing on the other side of the narrow water track that loops around.

"I wonder if the three of us will fit in one seat," Jimin says as he turns to assess the odd number of people in your group with a frown.

"I can go alone," Jeongguk responds with a shrug, eyes cast down.

"Tunnel of self love, eh?" Yoongi asks.

Jimin, Taehyung, and Jeongguk all turn in time to watch Yoongi do a jerk-off motion with his hand, and they all roll their eyes. Of the three, Jeongguk seems the least amused.

There is one more couple ahead of your group, and you notice that several minutes pass until another boat comes from the exit. The boats seem to travel rather slowly, but you struggle to figure out how long the ride is. How big could this attraction possibly be?

As the couple in the boat exits and the couple at the front of the line boards, Jimin and Taehyung step up to be next. Jeongguk shifts on his feet, and you consider asking if the group would rather just do Hall of Mirrors, instead.

“Need another?” a friendly voice asks, and you turn to gaze past Yoongi, to where Jack stands in all black. He holds his hands up, causing long, loose black sleeves to fall to his wrists, fabric dangling to the ground as he wiggles his fingers and adds, “I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

Jeongguk chuckles and shakes his head but says, “Sure, fuck it.” When he turns, smile brightening his face, you are a bit surprised to see how welcoming he is. He holds out a hand and says, “Name is Jeongguk.”

Jack lifts his hand and, to your surprise, says, “You can call me Hoseok.”

“Hoseok?” you ask as confusion and discomfort settle in your guts. “I thought you were called Jack.”

Jack or Hoseok, or whoever the man is, turns to you, cocking his head while grinning. The smudged black makeup around his eyes make them seem bright – menacing, almost.

“Jack..” he says, putting emphasis on the k, “…in the box?”

You swallow thickly, looking around at your friends, who watch Hoseok with amused smiles.

“I was going for a jester look,” Hoseok reaches for the long black ears dangling from his hat and tugs them outward, “but that works, too.”

Slowly, he begins to circle you, Yoongi, and Jeongguk, skipping while singing in a nursery rhyme fashion, “Round and round the tarpaulin pole, his hypnosis is feeble—“

You watch as a boat comes out of the tunnel, and briefly, you think there is a look of fear in the eyes of the couple sitting inside. “—but one deep quake is all it takes—“

Hoseok grips onto your shoulders, causing you to jump and scream at the same time he shouts, “—POP! Goes the weasel!”

Your friends laugh. Jimin and Taehyung at least have the decency to give you sympathetic smiles as the couple disembarks the boat and they ready themselves to get on next. You feel the urge to tell your friends not to go on the ride, but decide against it; they would probably think you sound paranoid.

“So jumpy,” Yoongi teases, and you close your eyes tight while taking in a slow, deep breath, resisting the urge to let your anger rise. Of course, you are jumpy; everything about this situation is fucking weird.

“Sorry for causing you a fright, ducky,” Hoseok says, and you exhale, body becoming instantly relaxed.

“It’s fine,” you slur, almost feeling momentarily drunk before everything comes into clear focus.

As Jimin and Taehyung get onto a little yellow and pink wooden boat, Hoseok and Jeongguk step forward, followed by you and Yoongi. Hoseok and Jeongguk talk about something lowly with their heads tilted toward one another, which you are unable to make out.

The sun is hot, making you feel somewhat heavy. "I should get some water," you mumble as you look around, only finding one nearby refreshments stand with a long line.

"We'll get you something when we get out of the ride," Yoongi responds, also glancing around the space as he wraps his arms around you.

Despite Yoongi's heavy arms caging your arms to your sides and his warm body pressing against you, it feels calming to be in his embrace. You tuck your chin in an attempt to curl further into him, both to block yourself from the sun and to inhale more of the familiar musk that soothes you.

Hoseok's voice calls, "Catch you on the other side," and you somewhat lift your head in an attempt to see whether he is on the boat, but even as Yoongi lifts an arm to wave them off, his other holds onto you tight enough that it is difficult for you to move.

"Have fun, lover boys!" Yoongi responds, making you snicker, and when he finally releases his hold on you to step forward in the line, into the shade, you rotate and find the backs of their heads disappearing into the dark entrance.

"What even is a Tunnel of Love?" you ask, getting on your toes to attempt to see into the building. Now that you are closer, you can see that there is a curtain of thin red shimmering strips that hang just past the opening of the entrance, blocking your view. You can, however, make out the fact that in the water, there is a sort of track that must be guiding the small wooden boats, which is how they seem to be moving at a slow, controlled speed.

"It's typically just some stupid animatronics ride, like something you would see at Disney," Yoongi responds in a tone that suggests he is too old for this sort of thing.

You turn to him with your brow knit, playfully glaring as you ask, "Then why did you want to go on it so badly?"

Yoongi's mouth turns sharp and devious, making your eyes widen, "Because…" he drawls slowly, stepping close as if he has a secret that only you are allowed to hear, but then his eyes drift upward, and his smirk turns to a grin.

Before Yoongi has a chance to say, "Whoa!" you have already caught onto the fact that he is distracted by something behind you, and you spin in time to see a boat exit the ride that looks different from the others.

This new boat is white with pink accents and has a sort of awning covering the back, sides, and top of it. You do not see anyone sitting inside until it comes around the little bend and the front of it points toward you. Two women sit very close to one another, appearing somewhat giddy as the boat pulls up to the steps and the two begin to exit.

"We even got a boat with some privacy," Yoongi mutters close enough to send a shiver running down your spine, making you hesitate before walking up the three wooden steps to get onto the ride.

On the other side of the track, the attendant is looking down at his phone. When you come into view, he glances up and says, "Step into the very center and then slowly scoot to the side," before looking down at his device again, as if he cannot be bothered that you are there.

You do as you are told, tentatively at first, feeling your pulse spike when the boat very slightly rocks from your weight. But then you realize it is actually rather steady – held in place, undoubtedly, by the track, and you take a couple slow steps to the center and lower yourself onto the seat.

Yoongi is beside you before you are able to settle in, arm slung over your shoulder and lips already finding your ear lobe with a welcoming groan. The attendant says, "Keep your hands and feet inside the ride at all times," monotone and practiced, and then the boat jerks before you are slowly entering the tunnel.

As the red shimmering strips part around the boat's awning, Yoongi's hand slides up from your knee, not stopping as it slides between your thighs, roughly cupping you over the fabric of your pants.

"Yoongi!" you half whisper, half moan as his fingers rub up and down, pressing firmly enough that you can feel every movement. Your thighs spread instinctively, and you look around at the Alice in Wonderland style scenery of bushes shaped like hearts, dripping with red, pink and white, as if paint had just been splattered over them moments ago. Faux flowers cover the ground and walls, some spinning and swaying to an upbeat song, but all you can hear is the rush of your pulse as Yoongi's fingers begin to undo your pants.

"Need to touch you," Yoongi groans as his teeth gently clamp down on your earlobe and his hand snakes into your pants.

"What if someone sees us?" you whimper, but as you glance around, you realize that there is nobody around to see you but animatronic animals that scurry behind and around all the love-shaped foliage. The lights are dim, and the awning gives you a surprising amount of coverage.

"Who?" Yoongi asks against your neck as his fingers rub circles over the thin fabric of your panties. The sensation makes you tense up and then relax, and although you can see that you are alone, you still feel anxious about being caught.

The boat approaches another doorway, this one covered in strips of shimmering black, and as you enter the even darker room, Yoongi's fingertips push past the hem of your panties, parting your lips as he begins to slowly tease your clit.

"Fuck," you whisper, eyes fluttering closed before you widen them in an attempt to stay aware of your surroundings.

This new room is dark with shimmering stars and an aurora borealis glowing in greens, blues, and yellows on the ceiling. You are unable to clearly make out the rest of the decorations, but there appear to be silhouettes of bushes and trees, only faintly lit up by the lights overhead.

"Mmm, so wet for me," Yoongi groans as his hand forces your thighs to spread just a little more and he plunges two fingers inside you. You whimper as arousal simmers throughout your body, lighting you up like the faux sky above. "Wish I could fucking taste you," he practically growls against your neck, causing you to let out a soft moan.

With a jolt, the boat stops, causing the two of you to gasp. Music still plays overhead, and Yoongi's fingers begin a nice steady pace of fucking into you. Although concern spikes, you settle back against the wooden seat and flutter your eyes closed, attempting to spread your legs a little more.

"Please stay seated," a somewhat robotic female-sounding voice announces, surrounding you from all sides and from above, "the ride will resume momentarily."

Yoongi's fingers leave you, making you whine, and then he sides off the seat and onto the floor. "Get these down to your knees," he instructs, yanking on your pants so forcefully that you squeal and slide nearly off the seat.

"Oh my god," you laugh as your garments are pulled to your knees as promised, and your bare ass settles on the wooden seat. "Yoongi, we can't—" you begin, despite not putting up any resistance and allowing him to hook your legs over his shoulders as his head slides between your thighs, caged in by your pants.

Yoongi's mouth is warm, wet, and heavenly as his tongue rakes over your clit and his lips close in. He sucks hard as his fingers find your entrance and slide in, wasting no time to fuck into you roughly.

You shudder and sigh, doing your best not to make a sound as one hand grips onto the edge of the seat and the other finds purchase in his soft, dark hair. "Yoongi," you whimper as softly as you can, feeling pleasure build and build at breakneck speeds. You're still sensitive from how hard Yoongi fucked you against the shower wall, this morning. Still sore from how he pressed you into your mattress and fucked you until you babbled absolute nonsense for hours last night.

"Please stay seated," the robotic voice calls, once more, "the ride will resume momentarily."

You listen for any voices – any sign that Hoseok and Jeongguk may also be in this room with you – but all you can hear are the twinkling sounds of the soft music playing. Yoongi's fingers and mouth are far too talented, and you chase your high quickly, squelching around him as your hands dig and press desperately.

"Gonna cum?" Yoongi asks, muffled and teasing.

"Yes," you whimper, eager for release as your body sinks further into the seat. "Yes, yes, yes, don't stop."

Yoongi groans and growls between your legs, sounds just loud enough for you to hear – just loud enough to make you shy. Never before has someone absolutely devoured you the way Yoongi does, and you practically feel drunk on how good he is at making you cum. You still find it insane that he has gotten this well-versed with your body after only being friends for a couple of months – only fuck buddies for about three weeks.

The memory of Yoongi's crooked smile luring you into the bathroom at Jimin's end of semester house party flashes through your mind – him pressing you against the tall mirror, hips digging uncomfortably into the sink as you watch his face twist with pleasure while he stretches you on his cock for the first time. The thought of how good he felt has your thighs squeezing around his head and you tremble through an intense wave of orgasm.

Yoongi sucks your clit as you cum, pounding his fingers into you. Above, the robotic voice instructs you to please stay in your seats, but the sound is clouded by your pulse pounding in your ears – covered behind the huffs of air you let out as you desperately attempt not to make a sound.

“Get down here and ride me,” Yoongi groans as he slides his fingers out.

The overhead music suddenly fills your ears, twinkling and melodic, as if the volume has been cranked up. Yoongi yanks on your pants, pulling your right shoe off in a rush.

“What?” you ask, feeling dazed from pleasure. “Yoongi, we can’t—“

“It’s fine,” Yoongi insists, sitting high to slot his lips against yours. “Come on, ducky; be a good girl and sit on my cock.”

Confused by Yoongi calling you ducky, you begin to mutter, “What did you just call—“ but everything feels hazy and twisted, and your body shimmers with desire.

Please stay seated; the ride will resume momentarily.

“Come on, baby,” Yoongi insists, fingers digging into your hips. “I’ll be quick. Just need to feel you.”

“What did you call me?” you ask, head spinning as you slide to the floor of the little wooden boat, no longer partially hidden – not that you care.

Yoongi holds onto your thighs as he lifts you enough to line you up with his cock, right knee digging into the floor of the boat while the left is still covered by your pants. You groan in tandem as he loosens his hold, allowing gravity to assist him in spearing you deep.

“Fuck,” he grits, fingers digging painfully into your sides. “Called you baby. Don’t you like it?”

You want to protest and explain that you don't mean when he called you baby, but your body feels electric, and you lift and drop your hips eagerly, feeling Yoongi stretch your already aching cunt. The little wooden boat creaks and whines with each of your movements, but it only slightly sways; whatever track it is attached to holds it tightly in place.

"This is exactly what I need," Yoongi mutters, head lolling back. "Your pussy is so good, baby."

Although his voice is barely above a whisper, you feel shy at the thought that someone could be able to see or hear you. You have already surmised that there does not seem to be another boat in the same room, but what if there is an attendant somewhere in the shadows?

You even glance around in the dark, feeling paranoia spike. Yoongi drives his hips upward hard enough to make you gasp – nearly making you moan before you catch yourself and swallow back the sound.

Please stay seated; the ride will resume momentarily.

Yoongi wraps his arms around you, clinging tight and burying his face against your neck. You hardly hear him say, "Won't last, baby," muffled against your skin.

"Wait," you moan, suddenly hit with the realization that Yoongi is going to cum soon. "You're not wearing a condom."

"It's fine," Yoongi slurs, shaking his head.

"Yoongi!" you whisper-shout, slowing your hips uselessly as he bucks his upward to make up for lost movement. "I don't want to be gushing with cum all day."

With a low moan, Yoongi's arms squeeze you tighter. "Love your filthy fucking mouth, baby."

You smack Yoongi on the shoulder and somewhat weakly attempt to lift your hips all the way up. You are not trying to stop him, so much as slow him down, but he seems too lost in bliss to get the hint as his hands slide down and grip onto your thighs, lifting you and pushing you down in time with his upward thrusts.

"Swallow it, then," Yoongi suggests with a crooked smile.

With one more smack to his shoulder, you lift your hips all the way up. Yoongi groans impatiently and makes a feeble attempt to push you back down, but does not put up a real fight.

"Jerk off into your hand and throw it in the water," you suggest through a bit of laughter.

"Swallow it," Yoongi tries once more, whining through his words while his hands work over his slick length.

Please stay seated; the ride will resume momentarily.

Your legs feel weak as you get back up onto the seat – bare ass on wood that has begun to go cold in the absence of your warmth. Yoongi continues to jerk himself off with one hand, while he leans forward and spreads your thighs with his other.

"Look how messy you are," he says as his fingertips probe at your lips and hole, making you tremble as you only spread enough for him to see. You want to put your clothing back in order before the ride resumes again; there is no telling how many more weird rooms there are to this attraction, and you do not want to be caught with your ass out. Yoongi leans forward, stumbling on his knees as his head falls between your thighs. "Need one more taste."

"Yoongi," you groan through a smile, looking around nervously, seeing nothing in the dark but shimmering stars.

Yoongi's lips and tongue make sloppy work on your cunt, but it feels good. Not good enough to make you cum, but good enough to make you melt back into the seat and spread just a little further for him.

You close your eyes and melt a little deeper into the feeling. For just a moment, you even allow yourself to imagine that you could really be his. Not just his fuck buddy who is kept at arm's length despite how openly flirtatious he is around his friends. No more hearing, "We can't keep doing this, baby," and, "This has to be the last time."

There is definitely someone else in Yoongi's life. Nobody has so much as said it, but you have suspected it, all along. You wonder how he manages to get away with fucking you without your mutual friends knowing about it when he makes his attraction to you so obvious.

Please stay seated; the ride will resume momentarily.

You are penetrated once more, and it takes a moment for you to realize Yoongi is standing over you with your legs slung over his hips. He leans at a strange angle, with his hands gripping onto the sides of the wooden awning.

How Yoongi managed to change positions confuses you, but the feeling of his cock makes it difficult for you to dwell too much. From here, you can somewhat see his face in the dark, and his chin is so slick with your release that a new tingle of excitement works through you.

"I wonder if they can hear us," Yoongi says somewhat loudly before slamming his hips against yours hard enough for the sound to echo.

"Huh?" you ask, but it turns to a moan as Yoongi sets a punishing pace. There is absolutely no way the sounds are not traveling to the other rooms, but you are so lost in bliss, all you can manage is to cover your face. Your head digs into the wood of the seat back, and your body is scrunched and lifted uncomfortably, but you allow yourself to be handled roughly because his cock feels so good.

"Jeongguk and Hoseok. I wonder if they can hear us."

The thought of it makes you recoil. "I hope not."

"Hmm, why not?" Yoongi groans, head tilted downward with his dark hair hanging over his eyes, casting a menacing shadow. "Jeonggukie loves to listen and watch."

Unsure why Yoongi is so intent on discussing Jeongguk's sexual habits at a time like this – and puzzled by how he would know such a detail, in the first place – you refrain from responding to his claim, squeezing your eyes closed.

Please stay seated; the ride will resume momentarily.

The music suddenly sounds much louder, and you feel yourself melt further. Yoongi's movements are loud and forceful, and you can tell by his deep, quick huffs of air that he is close to blowing his load. You open your mouth to warn Yoongi not to cum in or on you, but two fingers press down on your tongue, and you clamp your lips shut, instinctively.

Hands rub over your hair, down your neck, along the curves of your thighs. Hands squeeze your breasts, touch your clit, tighten around your throat, and hug you close. Caught in a strange liminal space between panic and bliss, you only have a split moment to comprehend how any of it could be possible – how it could feel like so many different fingertips on you at once.

And then you are jumping with a start, sitting on the little wooden seat beside Yoongi. The boat seems to have jolted and is now moving forward; the twinkling music is soft and romantic; your clothing is all in place. Neither of you appear as if you just had sex, as far as you can tell, but your pussy is wet and throbbing as if Yoongi only pulled out seconds ago.

"Finally," Yoongi mutters with a chuckle. "I thought we were going to be stuck sitting on this ride for the rest of the day."

You hum in response, rubbing your palms over your thighs, allowing the soft fabric of your slacks to wick the sweat that has begun to form on your tingling palms. What the fuck just happened?

Although you are certain you and Yoongi just fucked on this little wooden boat, you have no explanation for the lost time, and you feel nervous to ask. Yoongi will definitely think you have lost your mind.

As you reach the end of the twinkling star room, you see Hoseok step into view near the exit, standing just to the right of the curtain, wearing all white. This jars you, causing you to sit up quickly; surely, he has to have seen and heard everything. And if he is there, then does that mean he and Jeongguk have somehow managed to get off the ride while you and Yoongi were stuck inside?

"Crazy how much that guy looks like Hoseok," Yoongi says as his hand snakes under your left palm and he intertwines your fingers together.

"What do you mean?" you ask, but as soon as the words settle, and you pass the man standing in white, you begin to spot differences. They are slight, but they are there.

Jack does not have a piercing on the bridge of his nose, and his bangs are straight and sort of fan out over his brow, from under his white hat, whereas you remember Hoseok's bangs having a slight curl to them. At least…you think you recall him looking that way. Jack also does not appear to be wearing much makeup, whereas Hoseok's is always smudged around his eyes.

Yoongi only chuckles beside you and squeezes your hand as the boat parts another shimmering curtain. Ahead, you can actually see Jeongguk and Hoseok's boat passing through a curtain on the opposite end of the room. This room is a large, open square with the track snaking through it, decorated with fake fields of flowers and robotic butterflies, bright with a fake, sunny sky, and no dividers to keep you from seeing through to the very end, allowing you to notice the backs of their heads as they disappear from the room.

"See?" Yoongi says, lips grazing against your neck and giving you chills. "Two different people."

There is more evidence that Hoseok and Jack are different men when you think back to interactions between the two of them – Jack commenting on the bird keychain, and Hoseok responding like an absolute maniac when you called him Jack.

"Creepy," you respond, feeling inexplicably unsettled. The prospect of two identical men potentially pretending to be the same one all along, unbeknownst to you, makes you uncomfortable. Especially given their behavior all day.

How is Jack always right in front of you? And how many times has he been there without you realizing it?

This room is much shorter than the last two, and as the boat reaches the curtains, Yoongi presses a kiss against your neck and mutters, "Wonder if he saw anything in there?"

The boat exits the final curtain, and the bright, hot sun hits you, causing you to recoil and squint. You question whether Yoongi just confirmed that something did, indeed, just happen inside the tunnel, but the sound of Jimin shouting for your attention pulls it away, and you glance up in time to see him taking a picture of you and Yoongi.

Hoseok is still around, standing with Jeongguk, just off to the side from Jimin and Taehyung. Although he appears to be speaking directly to Jeongguk, his eyes find you, and he grins. Your cheeks warm as you look away, becoming embarrassed by the thought that the two of them definitely heard something.

Jack is near the stopping point, where the boat docks, so to speak, standing to the right of the track, closest to you. He reaches over the wooden wall that divides you with a golden card that has Lost & Found scrawled on it in raised black text. You hesitate to take the card, and he pushes it closer.

"Seems you have lost something in there," Jack prompts, mouth pulled into a smile. "Take this to the smallest tent, where the older of the two Kim brothers will assist you in retrieving what has been lost."

"What—" you begin, as Jack cocks his head and says, "You chose heads, ducky. Heads, you remember everything. Please take this card to Kim Seokjin-hyung, and he will assist you in retrieving the time you seem to have lost inside the Tunnel of Love."

How the fuck Jack must know what you experienced in the ride fills you with dread and annoyance, and you begin to wonder if perhaps it had all been a trick – an illusion. But how on earth could someone create the illusion of you having sex? You can still feel your arousal wet between your legs.

You take the card from Jack's hand when Yoongi calls your name from outside the ride. You had not noticed him get up or exit the boat, and you sit there alone while the next two people in line stare at you with impatience in their eyes.

"Sorry," you mutter to nobody in particular as you duck your head and stand up.

Your legs feel somewhat weak as you step onto the wooden platform and take the three steps down to the gravel path.

"That ride was short and kind of boring," Jeongguk complains, kicking at small rocks and seemingly avoiding making eye contact with you or Yoongi.

"That's weird," Yoongi says, wrapping an arm around your lower back and rubbing his hand up the path of your spine, "it felt to me like it went on forever."

Yoongi's hand falls away and Jimin begins to hop impatiently in the direction of the Hall of Mirrors. "Let's go," he whines, elongating that last vowel, making you chuckle as you walk with the crew toward the attraction.

Hoseok walks in the same direction before veering off, toward the three red and white tents, and you lift the Lost & Found card in your hand, rubbing your thumb over the raised text.

"Hey guys," you say, lifting the card higher when everyone turns to look at you. "You, uh…you go ahead and I'll meet you in there. Jack gave me this card, and I want to go see what it means."

You expect the vagueness of your explanation to raise alarms and cause your friends to interrogate you, and you are surprised when Taehyung simply nods, and Jimin shrugs.

"See you there," Yoongi says, planting a kiss against your forehead once everyone has turned their attention away from you. "Don't be too long, yeah?"

"Sure," you mutter, eyes trailing to Hoseok, who enters the smaller of the three tents, smack in the center of all the chaos. "Yeah. See you in a bit."

The moment Yoongi leaves your side, you become acutely aware of how loud everything is. Creepy chiptune music plays from various booths, shouted over by booth attendants and the occasional scream or cheer from a customer. With each shrill sound, your feet walk a little faster and your shoulders hunch a little higher.

Somewhat desperately, you reach the entrance to the smaller of the three tents, and you fling the heavy plastic red and white striped flap open without giving it a moment of thought. Hoseok stands near a wooden desk on the far end of the space, and when you realize you have just entered someone's personal quarters, you gasp and leap backward, toward the exit.

"Shit," you mutter as your hand fails to find the tent flap, and you spin quickly in an attempt to avoid seeing whatever transpires in the center of the space.

"Don't worry, little darling," you hear a familiar voice call, halting your movements. "I was expecting you. Come, sit."

When you turn back around, Seokjin is standing with his arms crossed over his chest, wearing a wide, welcoming smile. Hoseok bows his head and walks past, toward the exit. You hear the sound of the tent flap rising and then falling, and you approach a small wooden chair with a low back and thin armrests, and you slowly take a seat.

"Nobody enters this tent who is not meant to," Seokjin says as he rounds his desk and steps close. "Now, in order to retrieve what has been lost, you will need to consent to hypnosis."

"Hyp—" you begin, wiggling uncomfortably in your seat as your hands grip onto the armrests.

"You will be cognizant of every little thing, I promise."

The prospect of hypnosis seems too grand, and you shake your head, feeling a wave of discomfort settle over you. With a sigh, Seokjin uncrosses his arms, and he sits on the corner of his desk, just to your right. Even with him seated, you have to crane your neck to look up at him.

Seokjin taps the nails of his fingers quickly against the surface of his desk – taptaptap, taptaptap, taptaptap – while he appears to choose his next words. You watch his fingers, eyes stuck on a large emerald green ring that rises and falls melodically. Taptaptap, taptaptap, taptaptap.

"Hmm, yes, I understand," Seokjin responds. Taptaptap, taptaptap, taptaptap. "The unknown can be quite intimidating." Taptaptap, taptaptap, taptaptap. "But the hypnosis we do here is only to calm and dull the senses, allowing us to reach into the mind and rearrange things a little so that what has been lost can be found." Taptaptap, taptaptap, taptaptap. "You understand…don't you, ducky?"

You do understand, and you sigh as you relax into the chair and slowly nod your head, muttering, "I understand."

"Good," Seokjin responds, grinning. "Now sink nice and deep for me."

Seokjin reaches forward with his emerald clad hand and taps two fingers to the underside of your chin. Suddenly, the room melts away, and you feel heavy, dragged down into what can only be described as dark oblivion, while Seokjin drifts up, up, up – further and further away.

Then, suddenly, you are back on the Tunnel of Love ride, seated somewhat haphazardly, and Yoongi's cock is buried deep. His hands travel slowly over your body – fingers press down on your tongue, then slide away to rub over your neck while he touches along your hairline. He fucks you hard and fast and deep, making you scream and moan as orgasm rushes over you, and although your eyes are squeezed tight, you know that it is only him who touches you.

Only him who touches your breasts, rubs your clit, grips your throat. You have two crashing, intense orgasms while the robotic voice urges you to stay seated, and you are loud and unabashed, nails digging into the wooden seat of the ride.

Yoongi pulls out and cums on your pussy – rubs the head of his cock over your outer labia and moans loudly as he makes a mess. Your eyes open as he trembles through his high, and you watch as he sinks to his knees and begins to lick his own release off you.

"Yoongi, what are you—" you ask before his tongue and lips slurping at your messy cunt cuts you off and makes you moan.

"Fuck, you taste like heaven," Yoongi groans as he sits back and rubs the back of his hand against his face. "But we should put our clothes back on before the ride starts again.”

You feel fucked out and exhausted, panting through each breath as you sit up and begin to make sense of your clothing. Your slacks are still on your left leg, but your right leg is completely bare, and your shoe has managed to end up past where Yoongi sits high on his knees and buttons his tight black jeans.

Yoongi hands you your shoe while you slide your leg back into your panties and pants, and you stand just enough off the wooden seat to pull up your garments, lightly bonking your head on the wooden awning as you struggle to get yourself put back together. The two of you giggle and sit for only about a minute before the ride jolts forward and begins to move again, causing you to jump.

"Find what you were searching for?" Seokjin asks.

You gasp as your eyes fly open, and you find yourself in his tent, right where you should be. Paperwork covers his desk in stacks, and there are wooden bookshelves covered in books and trinkets behind it. You wonder how practical it is for him to have so many belongings in a traveling circus tent, but do not question it. There is something unfathomably wrong with this entire situation, and you feel the sudden urge to get the fuck out.

"I did, thank you," you say as you stand in a rush, pushing the chair back roughly against the grassy floor.

Seokjin smiles kindly and waves as you spin and rush to the exit, yanking open the tent flap once more and finding yourself back out in the loud, hot afternoon. How you could possibly feel so claustrophobic out in the open is beyond you, but you run toward the Hall of Mirrors, relieved to find no line at the entrance.

Just as you approach the attraction, Jack steps in your way and you brace yourself as you nearly pummel into him, stopping just in time.

"Shit," you complain, side-stepping to move past him, but Jack steps along with you, and holds up his hands.

"He who has been wronged has been granted a wish. Just one wish."

Impatient and exasperated, you huff, "What are you talking about?"

"You chose heads, ducky. Heads, you remember everything. This may include premonitions and changes in the continuum. The Tower crumbles, but change is good."

"Get the fuck away from me," you grit through your teeth as you shove past Jack and run up the metal stairs that lead into the mouth of the Hall of Mirrors.

As soon as you run into the entrance, multiple yous stare back at you, and you halt in your tracks, turning slowly to find the way out of this area and on to the next. You really just want to find your friends.

You feel disoriented and dizzy as you press forward, holding your hands at chest-height as you step in circles and around sharp corners. Reflections stretched and squeezed and twisted cause your anxiety to rise, and you do your best to steady your breathing.

Then you come out into a hallway of sorts, and feel equally thrown off by the lack of strangeness. The black stretch of space has violet string lights along the floor and ceiling, broken by squares of space that you realize are entrances to other rooms.

To the right, you think you hear Jimin's giggle, and you begin to step in that direction before you hear the unmistakable sound of Jeongguk shouting, "That's fucking bullshit, and you know it, Yoongi!"

The sound of his voice is coming from your immediate left, and you slowly turn and get closer. Thin black strings create a door of sorts, and as you approach, you can see through the strips, finding Yoongi leaning against a mirror with his fingers hooked into the waistband of Jeongguk's jeans. You are unable to make out what Yoongi says in response, but you can see the unmistakable smirk and fuck-me-eyes that you are so used to having directed at you.

The room they are in is so small – an almost circular space with mirrors on every wall, on the floor, and on the ceiling. There appears to be a sliver of black to Yoongi's left that someone may be able to squeeze through, and the two of them are only about six feet away from where you stand.

"It's been weeks, Yoongi," Jeongguk huffs, attempting to step back but getting caught on Yoongi's hold of him. "When are you going to break it off? Have you even told her?"

Yoongi bites his bottom lip and reaches with his other hand to cup Jeongguk's crotch, squeezing until Jeongguk shudders and finally takes a step back.

"Let's find a dark corner, love," Yoongi offers with a bat of his lashes and a sweet, wide smile, making your heart sink like a brick. "Let me make it up to you. Then we'll tell her together."

"Fuck you," Jeongguk responds sharply, swatting Yoongi's hand away. "I don't want you to make it up to me. I'm not playing your games anymore."

"Ggukie—" Yoongi tries, and Jeongguk shoves at him, causing Yoongi to stumble back into a mirror and press his palm against it.

"No," Jeongguk snaps. "We're not speaking anymore. I wish you would fucking get lost!"

Yoongi shakes his head and stumbles as Jeongguk turns toward the exit – to where you are frozen in place. Then Yoongi takes a step forward and seems to fall backward but Jeongguk quickly walks forward and slams into you, obstructing your view and causing you to scramble away from the room, bump into Hoseok, and scream with surprise and frustration. You wish you could shrink in on yourself and disappear as Jeongguk looks at you and snickers.

"Oh, great," he snaps, rolling his eyes. "It's you. How much did you hear, hmm?"

It is shocking the way Jeongguk speaks to you, voice laced with anger and madder than you have ever seen him. But what is more alarming is that Yoongi is nowhere to be found.

"Where did Yoongi go?" you ask.

Jeongguk snickers and shakes his head. "All you fucking care about is Yoongi," he says under his breath. "You know he was playing you, right? He and I are dating; have been for almost a year."

"What?" you mutter, looking around frantically for Yoongi, who seems to have disappeared in thin air.

"We're somewhat open," Jeongguk huffs, running a hand through his hair, sending red glitter to his shoulders and to the floor. "We fuck other people sometimes. But never more than once; you were just meant to be another easy mark on his long list. He was supposed to tell you."

"Oh," you respond, feeling defeated and more worried with every second that passes.

"Yeah, oh," Jeongguk mocks, making your frustration rise. He has every right to be angry, but taking it out on you right now of all fucking times is not going to do anyone any good. "Let me guess, he stayed at your place last night?"

"Can we do this later?" you ask, panting as sweat breaks on your forehead. "I need to get out of here; I feel—"

"Yeah, whatever," Jeongguk responds while he turns, adding, "I don't give a fuck how you feel," under his breath as he walks off.

Ordinarily, you would want to run after Jeongguk and attempt to assuage his anger, but you feel desperate to find Yoongi. You remember the sliver of a possible doorway in the small room, and wonder if maybe Yoongi is taking a breather in there while the dust settles.

"Lovers quarrels are never any fun to witness," Hoseok says, and you sigh angrily as you step into the room Jeongguk just exited from. "Which is why I granted him the wish."

"Can you fuck off?" you ask angrily as you spin on your toes and face a smiling Hoseok. "Leave me alone, please!"

"You won't find him," Hoseok calls, but you ignore him, walking through the small space and pushing away the black strings that hang over the narrow passage. Only there is no room to walk in that direction; it opens into a much smaller mirrored space that is lit up with bright, disorienting flashing lights and does not appear as if it is meant to be entered.

"Where did he go?" you demand as you turn. You are angry at Yoongi, and he has a lot to answer for, but your priority is finding him.

Hoseok, who stands just inside the entrance of the room with his arms crossed over his chest, shrugs and says, "He's lost."

"What does that mean, he's lost?"

Jack appears in the entrance beside Hoseok, obstructing your way out and holding yet another gold Lost & Found card. "He's lost," Jack says, voice nearly identical to Hoseok's – just slightly more nasally. Seeing the two of them standing side-by-side makes you feel nauseous with unease. "Meaning, he needs to be found."

"But not immediately," Hoseok adds, taking the card from Jack's hand and turning it over in his fingers before pocketing it. "Seokjin-hyung isn't in his tent at the moment."

"When will he be in his tent?" you ask, desperate. How Seokjin and his fucking parlor tricks will help you find Yoongi is beyond you, but so is everything else you have experienced since entering this cursed fucking carnival.

"When the time comes, you'll know," Hoseok responds.

"When the time comes, the flap to his tent will reappear," Jack says.

"Until then, you should really find your friends, little ducky," Hoseok suggests, tilting his head.

A wave of dizziness hits you and you sway somewhat before feeling calm and clarity take over in a blink.

"Don't want to lose them, too," Jack adds.

You feel exhausted as you rub your hands over your eyes and squeeze them shut, taking in a deep, fortifying breath. When you open your eyes, the only thing you see is your own multiplied reflection and the black strings in the entryway swaying. With a sigh, you shake your head and begin to navigate the Hall of Mirrors once more, listening for a familiar voice.

🎵 visit the playlist!

note: some of the magic that occurs will have explanations, but some will not! keep an open mind to the idea that not all of the magical realism will be explained, as we move further into the story.

are we having fun, yet???

i said i would be a little mean about Yoongi being chosen as the love interest, because i have a lot of Yoongi-focused fics going on at all times. and, don't worry, you will get to vote on who, if anyone, catches the attention of our vulnerable mc next! (polls coming soon! keep an eye out for the tags!)

thank you so much for reading!!! comments and reblogs mean the world, and likes are appreciated, too!!! stay hydrated and i will be back to torment you soon! 🤍 polls will begin to go up in the next 12-24 hours for chapter 3!

🤹‍♀️ tag list: @agustdsciggy @andreargu @bangtan-tee-86 @eoieopda @idkjustlovingbts @itsshaydeekaydee @kiki-zb @mamidescarada @manuosorioh @melancholy-of-nadia @mgthecat @moonleeai @secfir @sweetestofchaos @unsureofwhathappens @violetsiren90 🎪 visit the master post to read the disclaimer & request to be tagged!

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Carnival of Terror is a Goosebumps-inspired fic, copyright theharrowing 2023. no translations or reposting allowed!

#yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi angst #bts angst #bts horror #choose your own adventure #fic: carnival of terror #Spotify

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ghostlyyraccoon · 7 months

Text

Rational Chapter 1 (Kavetham Hanahaki AU)

Warning: Graphic depictions of violence, blood, injury, explicit content in ch2

Ship: Kaveh/Alhaitham

Chapter: 1/2

Summary:

Have you heard what they’ve been saying about the Academiya’s Scribe? Rumour has it he’s come down with a lung disease of the most curious kind! The whole House of Daena has witnessed him coughing up leaves and petals like crazy! Apparently, it’s been going on for several weeks, yet the Scribe refused to go see a doctor until his health took a sudden turn for the worse. Yesterday, he was found unconscious at his desk! Fortunately, the General Mahamatra and Light of Kshahrewar were closeby and able to bring him to the Bimarstan before anything worse could happen.

“Have you heard what they’ve been saying about the Academiya’s Scribe? Rumour has it he’s come down with a lung disease of the most curious kind! The whole House of Daena has witnessed him coughing up leaves and petals like crazy! Apparently, it’s been going on for several weeks, yet the Scribe refused to go see a doctor until his health took a sudden turn for the worse.Yesterday, he was found unconscious at his desk! Fortunately, the General Mahamatra and Light of Kshahrewar were closeby and able to bring him to the Bimarstan before anything worse could happen.”

“Come on now, stop lying. I can see the General Mahamatra helping out like that, but the Light of Kshahrewar? Why would he care about the Scribe? Aren’t they constantly on a warpath with one another? The messaging boards are filled to the brim with their arguments and rumour has it they’ve been rivals since their Academiya days.”

“I swear I'm telling nothing but the truth! The Scribe is in the process of getting the treatment now, they say.”

“Treatment? But wouldn’t that mean he would lose the ability to love forever? There aren't many other treatments for that kind of disease. Unless his feelings are requited, of course, but I assume the problem wouldn’t be ours to discuss right now if that were the case.”

“Come on now, we’re talking about the Scribe here. You can’t expect those insane academics to care about much more than their research. For people like him, feelings are nothing but an obstacle. Who knows, maybe he’s even glad to lose the ability to love. One less thing to worry about.”

“You're right, you're right. Still, it's a bit of a shame, don't you think so?”

When Cyno and Kaveh found him in his office, he was slumped over his desk next to several documents now ruined by his blood and the petals that were stuck to each and every page. If you were to ask Alhaitham about it, he would most certainly tell you that little was lost that day as all applications present were both poorly written and hardly remarkable. Alhaitham was just about conscious enough to tell Cyno and Kaveh exactly so while they tried to pry him off his chair. They ended up carrying him to the Bimarstan, Alhaitham’s right arm slung over Cyno’s shoulder, the left one over Kaveh’s as he drifted in and out of consciousness.

Now, several hours later, he was lying on a hospital bed, book in hand and nose buried inside. He was hooked to a machine that monitored his heartbeat and filled the room with a steady beeping sound. The blanket had been discarded and he was lying on the bare mattress, one leg crossed over the other, as if the sole usage of it would be an admittance of vulnerability he didn’t care to make. His relaxed pose made him look much more like a man enjoying his day off rather than a patient in dire need of care. And perhaps that was exactly how he wanted to be perceived. The only sign telling tales of Alhaitham’s sickness was his appearance. The bags under his eyes were pronounced and whenever he spoke, there was a harsh rasp to his voice.

After all, the rumours were true. Alhaitham’s lungs were infected with sharp roots ready to tighten their hold. The disease was rare, but certainly not unheard of. It was of a fantastical kind, illogical and unforgiving in the eye of hidden love; an ailment that tended to befall those blessed with dendro visions.

The curtain hiding the hospital bed from the public eye was pulled to the side with care, the rattling of the hooks loud in the otherwise silent room. A blond head of hair came into view and Kaveh threw Alhaitham a strange look as he thrust a glass of water towards him. Before Alhaitham’s fingers could come to touch it, the words already started to tumble out of Kaveh's mouth.

“So you’re finally awake again, huh?”

For a short moment Alhaitham lifted his eyes off the page to muster him, one eyebrow raised. “Clearly,” he simply stated before turning his gaze back towards the book. Admittedly, he had stopped paying attention to the words on the page the moment Kaveh entered the room. Not that he could stay focused with the way his head was pulsating anyway.

“Don’t you have anything else to say, Alhaitham? Really, nothing?!”

When he received no answer, Kaveh let out a breath of air, collecting himself as he straightened his shoulders. “Sure, if you insist on staying quiet, then I can talk to myself just fine. Not like that’s anything new,” he muttered to himself. Kaveh placed the glass he was still holding down and for a moment, his gaze wandered across the hospital bed, a pensive expression on his face until he decided to sit down on the edge of the bed. “I know we’ve had our share of ups and downs, but I at least expected you to tell me when you’re… oh, I don’t know, actively dying?! You should’ve told me, but for some reason you didn’t. Why?” His voice was loud enough to sound throughout the entire room. A few nurses who were just passing by turned their heads, whispering to one another.

“We live together, for god's sake,” he added, a bit softer this time. “Have I not asked time and time again what's been going on with you? You could’ve just told me! But no, you once again decided to keep me in the dark. Am I that much of a stranger to you?”

Alhaitham exhaled through his nose and snapped his book shut. Ignoring Kaveh was not the way to go and his chest was starting to ache. Unfortunately for him, the roots were starting to shift again.

“What good would it have done me? I planned on getting rid of it the moment I found out, my plans simply got derailed by my workload.” Alhaitham finally took the glass of water from where Kaveh had dropped it off and emptied it halfway. The liquid did little to soothe his raw throat and only made him more aware of the problem at hand. “There's no need to make my problem another one of your countless concerns.”

“But…! I could’ve…”

“Done absolutely nothing. The disease is still in the early stages and very treatable. No need to lose sleep over it,” Alhaitham threw in. Quickly, he lifted his arm and coughed into the crook of his elbow. It was quite the uncomfortable feeling, but at least there was no blood this time around.

Kaveh watched him intently and opened his mouth, his words carefully considered. “Well then, will you at least tell me who caused it? You can’t fault me for being curious about what kind of person it takes to unfreeze your stony heart.” It was obvious from his crossed arms to the tight line of his lips that he was feeling bothered by the topic at hand.

Alhaitham’s answer was lying on the tip of his tongue, ready to dart out and cause mayhem. However before he could retort, he was hit by another coughing fit, quickly followed by a sudden wave of dizziness. This time, he was forced to cough harder and for much longer. When he breathed in, there was a rumbling in his chest that he knew far too well. He dropped his book and placed one hand against the mattress to straighten his back and steady himself when suddenly, a thick stream of blood started to run down his nose. Alhaitham coughed again, one hand darting up to cover both his nose and mouth for damage control. The glass of water tipped over and shattered on the ground.

“Oh gods, did I make you think of them? I wasn’t-” Kaveh looked towards the door, eyes wide with panic. “Doesn’t matter,” he chided himself before hurrying towards the door and sticking his head out into the hallway. “Doctor! We need a doctor in here!”

“I’m fine,” Alhaitham said slowly, his voice muffled by the hand he was still holding over his nose. The blood was dripping down his hand and a droplet escaped, dirtying the white sheets.

“What do you mean you’re fine?! You're bleeding! Shut it and leave the assessment to the experts!” Kaveh hurried over to Alhaitham’s side, his steps hurried yet certain as he began digging through his pockets. Finally, he pulled out a clean handkerchief and leaned down. With one hand, he pulled Alhaitham’s hand away from his face and quickly pressed the handkerchief under his nose instead. His grip on Alhaitham's hand was as reassuring as it was painful and Alhaitham just let him do as he pleased, far too aware of the way Kaveh’s thumb pressed into his palm. The warmth of his hand was soothing against the coldness of his own digits.

A minute passed until Kaveh cleared his throat. “Let them do their job, get the surgery and come back home,” he mumbled. “You've never been one to hesitate.” It was uttered so softly Alhaitham wouldn’t have been able to make it out if it weren’t for their close proximity.

“Look out Kaveh, you almost sounded worried there,” Alhaitham teased, earning him a vexed look. “People might start to think you care for me. We can’t have that now, can we?”

Kaveh pressed the handkerchief harder against Alhaitham’s nose, who shut his eyes tight and made a small sound in response.

“You are infuriating,” Kaveh simply replied. “But for the sake of your health we’ll continue this discussion once you’re feeling better again.”

“Will we now? How kind of you.”

Kaveh took a deep breath. “I am trying to be the bigger person here, so stop trying to rile me up!”

Alhaitham almost had to laugh out loud when the realization hit him. Just like everyone else, Kaveh too was certain he would simply get the roots removed, willing to move on with his life as if nothing ever happened. As if he would never even consider any other choice. And why would anyone assume otherwise? Alhaitham rarely ever portrayed himself to be sentimental or particularly romantic. He was rarely perceived as what could be considered a regular human being. A cold man devoid of emotion, driven purely by undeniable logic, that's what they called him. Of course everyone would assume he’d simply rid himself of the ability to love at the drop of a hat.

Alhaitham lifted his head and mustered Kaveh, taking note of the vibrant colour of his eyes, committing them to memory. “The surgery,” he started, allowing truth to bleed through his words. “Let’s play devil's advocate and assume I come back changed, different. What would you do then?”

Kaveh tilted his head and lifted an eyebrow. “Because of the love thing? Come on Alhaitham, it’s not like you’ve ever had any of that left for me. Or anyone else, if we’re being honest now.” Kaveh threw him a small smile. “What are you doing, trying to discuss rhetoric with me? You’ll be fine. Not even a disease like this could change your ill temper. You'll be right back to your regular unbearable self.” He dappled the tissue under Alhaitham's nose again and sighed when it still came back bloody. For a moment, Alhaitham selfishly allowed himself to be fretted over.

They were interrupted by the door being pushed open and finally, a doctor entered the room.

“You called?”

“Thank god! Yes, I did. I don’t know what happened, he suddenly started coughing and bleeding from his nose again!“

The doctor mustered Alhaitham over the top of his moon-shaped glasses. “Let me take a look, Sir. Please, step aside.”

“Of course!” Quickly, Kaveh pulled back. His hands were hanging by his sides, now useless, the bloodied handkerchief crumpled up in his fist. Kaveh found himself unsure of what to do now that he couldn't help anymore, but found himself even more so unable to step away.

The doctor took out a stethoscope, pushing it past the hospital gown against Alhaitham's chest. While he listened to his breathing, he threw Kaveh a quick glance. “Spouse?”

“Who? Me?!” Kaveh’s eyes were darting from Alhaitham to the doctor and back. “No, I'm his…” The awkwardness hung heavy in the air when he paused to think. “I’m his…”

“Friend,” Alhaitham offered. “He's an old friend.”

Kaveh's eyes widened and the doctor simply nodded. “Please leave the room then. I would like to go over the treatment plan with the patient now. I can assure you that for now, he is doing okay. He’s in capable hands after all.”

Kaveh took an uncertain step away from them. “Of course,” he said politely. Then, he threw Alhaitham one last look and opened his mouth before closing it again.

“Go home, Kaveh.”

After having taken several steps towards the door, he turned around one last time. “You get well soon,” he finally settled on before leaving.

Alhaitham turned towards the doctor. A bone-stirring cough rippled through his body as soon as the door had fallen shut again. After a moment, he managed to calm his breathing. “Well. What's the plan, doctor?”

The doctor threw Alhaitham a knowing look before putting aside the stethoscope and reaching for Alhaitham's chart, thumbing through page after page. “I come with good news. We can squeeze you in for an early appointment to get the roots cleared tomorrow. Of course we'd explain the whole procedure in detail to you beforehand, but I assume you're familiar with the side effects of the surgery already? Nausea, brain fog, difficulties breathing, numbing of emotions towards the illness's source.”

Alhaitham propped himself up further and stared at the wall opposite him, slowly following all the little cracks and bumps with his eyes as he came to his final decision. “That won’t be necessary,” he said slowly. “I changed my mind. I’m not doing it.”

The doctor’s expression was a mask, cool and undisturbed, still like a painting. He opened his mouth. “Sir, it’s a rather safe procedure, are you certain that-”

“I am very certain. I am perfectly aware of the repercussions, so there's no need to explain them to me again.”

“As your doctor I have a duty-”

“That I’m relieving you of. I will agree to stay another two days for monitoring, but that is all I will allow to happen. I'm not getting the procedure, that is my final decision.” Alhaitham crossed his arms and let his gaze wander. Now that he'd put his decision out in the world, for a moment he felt a certain kind of serenity soothe his mind. A bird flew past the window and for Alhaitham the conversation was over, buried five feet under.

There was nothing beautiful about death. Undeniably, it would be a painful affair for him, while others were rewarded a quick ending instead. Perhaps someone as romantically inclined as Kaveh would be able to find a kind of beauty in it that Alhaitham’s pragmatic mind was unable to see. This thought was as much a joke as it was a lifeline to him.

When Alhaitham was released from the hospital, he felt worse for wear. There was little the doctors could do without his consent for the surgery, so they'd surveyed his state, estimated the time he had left and given him pain-soothing meds. He had a month, maybe three left if he was lucky and were to keep his distance. Considering how Kaveh was his roommate and around him more often than not, he assumed one month was the more realistic estimation out of the two.

One month. One month was all he had left to keep living with Kaveh. One more month of arming his words with jabs and pricks, since that was the only language Kaveh trusted enough to remain in place, his need to run satiated by carrot and stick.

Alhaitham was standing in front of their front door, key in hand. For a moment, he pondered about what to say, how to explain a decision that would seem idiotic to anyone who couldn't take a peek inside his mind. Would Kaveh come to accept it or would he start yelling at him for his stubbornness?

Eventually, Alhaitham lifted his key, ready to unlock the door and let himself in. Just as he was about to do so, the door swung open by itself and he was pulled inside, suddenly finding himself face to face with his frazzled looking roommate.

Kaveh's hair was a mess and the bags under his eyes were deep-set and more pronounced than usual. Presumably, he'd spent the night chipping away at another one of his projects, desperate to hit an impossible deadline just so he didn’t have to ask for an extension. He mustered Alhaitham from head to toe, his hands planted firmly on his shoulders. “You don't look all that different,” he said in lieu of a greeting, sounding a bit out of breath.

“A good morning to you too,” Alhaitham replied as he pushed past him. “Well, what did you expect me to look like? I'm curious, enlighten me.” He walked over to the kitchen and sat down. There was a pot of coffee already waiting for him and he poured himself a generous amount. Kaveh must have prepared it for him.

The chair scraped roughly against the kitchen floor as Kaveh pulled it back to sit down next to him. Without having to look, Alhaitham already knew he was watching him, head cocked and leaning on one hand, his gaze probing. “Why are you asking me that? Didn’t I ask you a question? Just answer me!”

Alhaitham sipped on his coffee. It wasn't bitter enough. Kaveh rarely ever used enough beans, insisting on how the package would last longer that way. Sometimes Alhaitham would end up using more beans than usual, thus eradicating all of Kaveh’s efforts. They’d had the same argument over it for the past six months.

When Kaveh realized that he had no intent to answer him, he sighed loudly. His tone softened and he put his right hand flat onto the table, leaning forward ever so slightly. “I guess you just look… more tired than usual.” There was uncertainty in his eyes. “Are you alright?”

Alhatham scoffed as he watched Kaveh from behind his coffee cup. “I couldn’t be better.“

“You just got out of major surgery! How could you be fine? Why did they think it was a good idea to release you this early to begin with?!”

Alhaitham took another sip and decided to let Kaveh’s assumption remain incorrect. He shouldn't have to burden himself with the knowledge that Alhaitham’s time was running out with every touch, every breath shared in the same vicinity. Kaveh had already carried enough burdens for a lifetime.

He didn't know how much more his sturdy shoulders could take.

“Well,” he started. “A feeling of fatigue was to be expected, but I should be good to go in no time. I believe Lesser Lord Kusanali has been waiting for me already. It seems like the Sage’s seat has remained empty for the time being.”

Kaveh shifted his head to the other side as if a new angle would give him some fresh insight into Alhaitham‘s mind. Finally, he tutted his teeth.

“Aren't you the one who always insists that I shouldn't overwork myself? But when you do it it's suddenly fine. Ugh, whatever! Why should I spend even more energy worrying about someone who doesn't even appreciate it! Your dismissive behaviour drives me up the wall!“

He stormed out of the room and Alhaitham coughed into the crook of his elbow.

This was how he wanted to remember Kaveh. Emotional, short-tempered when in Alhaitham’s presence, and most of all, free from the burden of Alhaitham’s feelings on his conscience. After all, solely Alhaitham could be blamed for them. In combination with his uncanny bluntness, they were the only thing keeping Kaveh by his side. It would have to do. Alhaitham thought back to the way Kaveh’s eyes widened when he called him his friend and coughed harder. It would simply have to do.

Alhaitham shot up from his bed, his forehead beading with sweat and his heart thumping viciously. The dream he'd just awoken from hadn't been a nightmare per se, but had been uncalled for nonetheless. It was an unruly thing, incomprehensible and jumpy in nature. Visions of carmine eyes and blonde hair were still fresh in his mind, haunting both waking and sleeping hours. This wasn't the first time he'd dreamed of Kaveh, and realistically speaking, it wouldn't be the last time.

It seemed like not even his dreams were kind enough to spare him from what he could never attempt to pursue.

Was sharing a home not enough? He'd certainly hoped it would be.

Slowly, Alhaitham sat up. He was nauseous. An unhinged part of his brain tried to urge him to get up and cross the distance between their rooms so he could wake Kaveh and ask to be cared for and pampered before it was too late. This, however, he would never attempt.

So Alhaitham rose from his bed and went to the bathroom instead. After several handfuls of water, he lifted his head from the sink, pearls of water dripping down his chin. His reflection in the mirror looked quite the mess.

For a moment, he imagined Kaveh would walk up to him and hug him from behind, his lips a whisper against the nape of his neck. But that was all it was, wishful thinking. Slowly, he gritted his teeth, one hand rising to rub the hallucinations out of his eyes. Alhaitham felt his lungs tighten again. He lowered his hand until it came to cover his mouth and took a deep breath through his nose. His skin felt sickly warm against the palm of his hand.

It would take him several hours until he was able to return to his room again.

There was a knock on their front door.

“Alhaitham! Door!” Kaveh shouted from his room. “The door! Go get it!”

Alhaitham was sitting on the bathroom floor, one hand gripping onto the sink as he spilled flowers and leaves into the toilet bowl, quiet enough for Kaveh to miss. Their guest would have to wait. It's not like he was expecting anyone, so it was really their fault for arriving without prior notice. His nose was bleeding again and even paper towels did little to stop the flow.

“Alhaitham! You know damn well I-” He could hear Kaveh cursing quietly, followed by hurried steps crossing the living room. The sound of their front door being opened came shortly after.

“Hello? Oh! It's you! What are you doing here?”

A voice Alhaitham could barely make out, followed by quick conversation.

“I'll go get him, come on in.” Kaveh again.

Alhaitham spit the remaining bits of petals into the bowl and flushed them down. He wiped the blood off to his best abilities before opening the bathroom door. He almost collided with Kaveh, who already had one hand raised ready to knock. His hair was pulled into a makeshift ponytail and there were streaks of paint splattered all over his face.

“You have a visitor,” he said, slightly out of breath. “He's waiting in the living room.” Kaveh took a quick look at Alhaitham and his expression dropped. “Alhaitham, you-”

Alhaitham nodded and pushed past him without saying another word, hoping the scent of flowers wasn't clinging to his skin. The scent seemed to be permanently stuck in his nose, inescapable and nauseating.

Kaveh threw him a searching look before slowly retreating towards his own room again. If he wanted to comment on Alhaitham's silent refusal to get the door, he most definitely pushed it aside for when they were alone again.

When Alhaitham entered the living room, he was faced with someone he'd never expected to see infiltrating the comfort of his home.

“Well, well, well. Look who’s still kicking. Acting Grand Sage, how has the surgery been treating you? Not all that well considering how you haven't actually gone through with it,” the young man taunted. He was lounging on one of the divans, one arm leaning against the backrest, his hat discarded on his lap and his head tipped back, never one to sugarcoat his words.

Alhaitham's mood soured on impact. “Wanderer. Did Lesser Lord Kusanali send you?”

In the grand scheme of things, Wanderer was something akin to a coworker once removed, as they had been made to work together under Nahida’s kind rule numerous times before.

“What do you think? That I came for the ravishing talks and your enjoyable personality? I believe you're aware that I’m not one for pleasantries.”

“No one is forcing you to be here. The door is right there. I’d offer you tea, but I really don't see why i should do that.”

“Don't bother, Grand Sage.”

“Acting Grand Sage,” Alhaitham threw in.

“I'm only here to survey your state and give Nahida a report. She has also given me a message to deliver.”

“And what would that be?”

“Stop screwing around,” Wanderer said, his gaze probing.

“Your words, not hers, I assume?” Alhaitham retorted. “Well, you can tell her that this is none of her business regardless.”

A frown, snarky and cold, made its way onto Wanderer’s face. “You think Nahida doesn't care that her favourite little pawn has set off on a suicide mission for the sake of love? It’s almost charming how far you underestimate her levels of meddling.” Wanderer let himself fall back onto the divan, his eyes set on the ceiling. “To think that you of all people would fall for such lowly affections. Maybe you are more ordinary than first expected after all.” He blew out a breath of air and rolled his eyes. “How boring.”

Alhaitham crossed his arms and stared down at Wanderer, who was staring right back up at him. Neither said another word.

Wanderer was the first to break the silence. “You really think your little architect will reciprocate your feelings before it's too late? Are you dense or just stupid? Fate is rarely known to be generous.”

“It's quite easy, actually. I don't,” he answered, his voice firm with conviction. “Are you finished now?”

“As finished as you'll soon be.” A short bark escaped the Wanderer’s lips and Alhaitham realized belatedly that the sound must've been laughter.

“There are many people after you. If they find out how impaired you really are, pray tell what will happen then? Count yourself warned.” A moment passed by and he sat upright again, tutting his teeth. “Perhaps this is farewell, Grand Sage? And by the way, you reek of mourning flowers. Do something about it.”

With that he jumped up and headed for the door. He turned around one last time, his hand hovering near the doorknob. “I never took you for a fool, but it seems I was wrong.”

“And you are invested in human affairs since when?”

“I am not. I simply do as I’m told.”

With that, he left. As soon as the door fell shut, Alhaitham heard Kaveh emerge from his room again. He peered past the doorway and mustered Alhaitham with crossed arms.

“What was that about? I didn't think you had anything to do with that guy after the Interdarshan Championships passed.”

“Lesser Lord Kusanali sent him,” Alhaitham explained shortly.

Kaveh's eyebrows knit together in confusion. “You're trying to tell me Lesser Lord Kusanali sent Hat Guy? Have you taken leave of your senses?”

“Oh, you didn't know? He's her little henchman.”

Kaveh's mouth fell open in surprise. “And you didn't think to tell me?! For how long have you- You know what, nevermind! I won't even bother!” Kaveh shook his head and pushed his fists into his hips. “Well, what did he want?”

“Nahida sent him to check up on my recovery. I told him I'm fine.”

“Are you though?” The words came out clipped, but Kaveh's eyes looked strangely honest. “Are you really fine, Alhaitham? You were pale as a ghost when you left the bathroom.”

“Why shouldn't I be?” he replied casually, his tone nonchalant. Then, he decided to poke the bear. “Maybe you should worry about yet another person having found out about your living arrangements rather than think about trivialities.”

Kaveh’s eyes widened and he leaned back a bit. “You think he'd tell?!” His voice rose several pitches and his cheeks turned lively. It was fun seeing him huff and puff.

“He is quite the malicious soul. Who knows what he might do,” he finally concluded as he leaned his chin against his hand, the slight pull of the corner of his mouth hidden behind his hand. The teasing seemed to serve its purpose. Kaveh breathed in deeply, one accusing finger lifted to go off at his roommate. Alhaitham tasted mourning flowers on his tongue as he slipped on his soundproof earpieces, carefully massaging his sternum.

Whatever insult Kaveh chose to hurl his way was drowned out by the familiar sound of pink noise.

Alhaitham was sorting through proposal after proposal, putting the scarce good ones on a pile to his left, the insultingly bad ones on a pile to his right. Work today was quiet, mundane. Nobody had tried to push their bad proposal in person just yet, which was a win in his books. He was glad to be able to do what was expected from him as the Akademiya’s Scribe rather than be stuck in another stuffy meeting representing the Acting Grand Sage. Alternating between the jobs was demanding, yet exactly what he needed to keep his thoughts clear and his mind occupied.

The brain fog caused by his illness was quickly starting to become an issue. Hiding it however, was an easy affair as Kaveh chose to interpret his newfound forgetfulness as deliberate malice. After all, deceiving someone who tended to find hostility and ill will in each and every one of your actions was quite the simple feat.

The roots in his chest shifted slowly, painfully and he rubbed his collarbone. Alhaitham opened yet another proposal, the letter opener cutting through the envelope smoothly. As he pulled out a letter instead of a proposal sticking to the strict Akademiya guidelines, all correct fonts and paragraph spacings, he stopped in his tracks. There were letters, taken from newspaper cuttings, spelling out two simple sentences.

“Do not consider yourself safe, Grand Sage. Our eyes are everywhere, and they are trained on you.” There was a photo attached to it with a paperclip. The picture was a snapshot, presumably taken of him right as he left the Bimarstan, patient file in hand. Alhaitham sighed as he put down both letter and photo, turning them over to look for any hint that could tip him off as to who had sent the threatening letter. There was nothing else to take note of. He leaned his head against his hand and sighed.

Although he hated to admit it, it seemed like Wanderer had been right after all. For a moment, Alhaitham considered bringing it to Nahida, but swiftly decided against it. He would deal with this by himself. Unnecessary coddling and worrying was the last thing he needed right now. All he wanted to do was go home and enjoy a cup of coffee brewed too lightly.

The roots in his lungs had been behaving quite well today. Perhaps the distance to Kaveh was what his body relished in, yet his mind failed to strive for after all. A quick look at the clock told him that finally, it was time to leave. Alhaitham pulled on his coat, the proposals long forgotten on the table already, delayed for yet another day to come. After a moment of consideration, he pocketed the letter. This was an issue for another day, yet he couldn't risk his replacement finding it.

Alhaitham was quick to leave his office on time before anybody could even think about bothering him past his work hours.

The bazaar was bustling with the sounds of the people of Sumeru, excited with the end of corporate hours and the beginning of their dearly awaited free time, accompanied by the cooling winds of night.

Alhaitham’s walking slowed as he passed a stall selling little trinkets, decorative items that would look good against the backdrop of his library. If he were to buy one or two, Kaveh would certainly have a fit. A smile lingered on his lips as he considered taking a little wood carving home to add to his collection. He turned it over in his hands and came to the conclusion that Kaveh would despise it. Alhaitham pulled out his coin pouch and rewarded the seller accordingly. As soon as the transaction was complete and the wood carving safely stored away, his chest tightened and a wet cough broke free, only suppressed by his elbow pressed tightly against his mouth to muffle the sounds. The vendor threw him a worried look.

Alhaitham’s breathing refused to calm. As soon as he tasted blood on his tongue, he retreated into a deserted alley where he would be free to cough his heart out. It wasn't pretty, but he’d certainly had worse attacks. There was a flower stuck in his throat, and he found himself struggling for air. Only removing it would soothe his bruised lungs. When he finally managed to pull it free it fell to the ground with a loud splat. Finally, he was able to breathe again.

“Well look at this,” a voice suddenly growled, rough yet quiet. “If it isn't the Grand Sage.”

He felt something sharp press into his side.

“So the rumours are true, you are sick after all.”

“Perhaps you shouldn't occupy yourself with the people's talk so much if you still don't know that I am not more than the Acting Grand Sage,” Alhaitham replied coolly.

“Cocky, aren't we? Let's see how long that will last.” The woman leaned closer, her lips inches away from Alhaitham's ear. Her whisper was callous, cruel. She smelled like earth and gunpowder. “Maybe we’ll go to your home and pay that precious little architect friend of yours a visit right after. I wonder if he bleeds red just like the rest of us.”

Although his expression did not show it, Alhaitham's blood ran cold. “You're really insistent on ruining my evening, aren't you? Guess I'll have to make things uncomfortable for you now too.”

The woman pushed the knife harder against his side and Alhaitham could feel it breaking skin. Apparently, she didn't appreciate his answer very much. Perhaps she'd expected a more fearful response.

“Ambush him!” she then yelled, her eyes never leaving Alhaitham to stand unsupervised. There was a sudden and sharp push against his abdomen as the woman darted forward.

All of a sudden, five other people emerged from the shadows.

Treasure Hoarders.

Alhaitham spat out a mouthful of blood before he summoned his swords and straightened his stance.

Slowly, Alhaitham lifted his key to the lock, his hand straining under the effort of trying to keep the shaking to a minimum.

The fight had been long and unfair, as fights in Sumeru often tended to be. If Alhaitham had been at the peak of his health, perhaps he wouldn't have gotten hurt. Now, his abdomen felt like someone had tried to set it aflame. There was nothing more than a single door keeping him separated from the safety of his own home where he’d finally be able to patch himself up in peace. The knowledge that Kaveh wouldn't be there to witness his pitiful arrival soothed at least one of his ever mutiplying worries. It was Friday night and there was no way he'd miss the happy hour at Lambad’s Tavern, not when Tighnari and Cyno had invited them both out. Naturally, Alhaitham had been quick to decline, leaving Kaveh to go by himself.

Finally, he managed to unlock the door and stumbled inside. While one hand remained pressed to his abdomen, he was using the other to lean onto the wall for support. Alhaitham breathed out through his nose and braced himself for the pain that was certain to follow. He straightened his back and pushed himself up again, clenching his teeth. After he managed to pull the door shut, his ring of keys slipped from his hold. The sound it made when hitting the ground echoed through the entire house.

“Alhaitham?” With a click, the light turned on and Alhaitham found himself standing face to face with Kaveh, who was right in front of him with crossed arms and an unreadable expression. He was wearing a tank top covered in splashes of paint and a smear of green ran across his cheek. Alhaitham had the sudden urge to trace it with his fingertips, smudge it against his cheekbone down towards the corner of his mouth. Perhaps that was the blood loss speaking after all. It seemed like Kaveh hadn’t noticed the state he was in just yet, and he’d prefer to keep it that way.

For once, Alhaitham had nothing to say, so he simply ignored his roommate and walked further into the room.

“Where have you been?” Kaveh’s voice echoed through the hall. His tone was guarded and for once, Alhaitham couldn’t take it. He simply passed his roommate, one hand ghosting past his shoulder for the smallest of moments. His knuckles brushed over the bone connecting Kaveh’s shoulder to his collarbone. “Work,” he replied curtly. The word came out sounding much more quiet than intended. Alhaitham couldn't tell anymore how much time had passed between Kaveh’s question and his answer. The blood loss was making his head dizzy, his thoughts uncharacteristically jumbled. Hopefully, Kaveh would be too invested in his project to notice.

Before he could pass him, Kaveh’s hand wrapped around his wrist, successfully pulling it away from his abdomen. “Hey. You really think I’d believe you of all people would be putting in the work when you’re already off the clock? Try again.”

“I don’t recall being obligated to report my whereabouts to you.”

Kaveh tutted his tongue. “You don’t think I can tell that something is going on? I know y-”

Now that there was nothing left to stop the bleeding, it began to drip further down until it hit the ground. Without wanting to, Alhaitham’s gaze followed the traces it left. Kaveh stopped in his tracks, his eyes wandering down towards the ground as well. For a second, neither of them moved. Kaveh’s eyes wandered up to Alhaitham’s face and his lips parted in shock.

“This is..” Before he could finish his sentence, Alhaitham began to falter. Thankfully, Kaveh was quick enough to support him before he could hit the ground. “What the hell! What happened?!”

“Small wound. Hardly worth mention- ugh!” Alhaitham doubled over and Kaveh slid one arm around his back to pull him further up.

“What do you mean hardly worth mentioning, you're bleeding profusely! Come on, let's get you to the bathroom.”

One hand closed around Kaveh's bicep. “It's fine,” he grunted out.

“Fine my ass. Do you really want me to start discussing semantics with you now?!”

Alhaitham made a noncommittal noise in reply and let himself be led. Not that he had much of a choice now that the cat was out of the bag.

Once they reached the bathroom Kaveh carefully lowered him onto the ground, propping him up against the side of the bathtub. He turned on the light and rummaged through one of the cabinets for their first aid supplies.

When he turned back around again, Alhaitham’s head was tilted towards the ceiling, his breathing heavy.

“Hey.” Kaveh snapped his fingers to get his roommate's attention. “Show me the wound.”

Wordlessly, Alhaitham shrugged his coat aside to reveal the deep stab wound. “It's not that bad-”

Kaveh pushed the palm of his hand against his forehead, applying pressure. “Not as bad?! Take it off.”

“Take what off? You have got to be more specific.”

“Your shirt. Off with it.”

Alhaitham was feeling more loopy with every second that passed. “Do it for me if you need it off that badly.” A small smile spread over his lips. It was easier to taunt than to admit that he was very close to passing out and couldn't handle the wound by himself.

“You are infuriating,” Kaveh murmured, an annoyed tone to his voice as he grabbed the underside of Alhaitham's shirt and carefully pulled it up. It made a squelching sound when he pulled it past the deep gash and Kaveh flinched.

“Lift your arms.”

Alhaitham did as he was told and not soon after, he was sitting shirtless, the cold air of the night almost soothing where it hit his sickly warm skin.

“Good grief,” Kaveh mumbled, letting his fingertips run along Alhaitham's torso. “This isn't just a small nick, somebody stabbed you!”

Kaveh's eyes went from the wound back to their first aid kit. “I have to call Tighnari,” he decided quickly. Strangely, it seemed like he was starting to panic.

“It's the middle of the night.”

“And he's our best bet. He's at Cyno’s right now. You stay right here.”

With that, Kaveh was gone. The afterthought of his fingertips still lingered against Alhaitham's skin and he sighed. Slowly, he looked down. The wound was angry and red, the memory of a rusty dagger sliding in still fairly vivid in his mind. Carefully, he tried to prop himself up. When the pain had him doubling over and the wound leaked even more blood, he gave up.

Kaveh returned a few minutes later, the look in his eyes panicked as he quickly washed and disinfected his hands before turning back around to his roommate. He pressed one hand against Alhaitham's cheek. The touch felt soothing against his clammy skin and he pressed his cheek into it.

“I need you to lie down,” Kaveh mumbled and Alhaitham noticed the way his hands were shaking like leaves.

Kaveh grabbed onto his shoulders and pulled him down slowly, carefully. He shielded the back of his head with his hand to prevent any further injuries. Once he was down, he pushed a pillow under Alhaitham's feet to elevate them.

Alhaitham looked up at him. “You surely do realize this is all unnecessary?” he wheezed out.

“Just stop talking,” Kaveh answered, teeth clenched as he put on a pair of gloves. “I'm going to apply pressure to your wound,” he said in warning.

Alhaitham let out a groan as Kaveh's hand pushed against the sensitive skin. “Playing nurse, are we? Perhaps you missed your calling after all.”

“I’ll kill you once you feel better again.”

“Oh, I believe you will.” The words slipped out of his mouth as he had no intention of keeping them there. There was no way for Kaveh to know just how right he was.

“What's that supposed to mean?!”

Slowly, Alhaitham closed his eyes, letting out a shallow breath. “Nothing for you to worry about,” he mumbled to himself.”

“Oh god, you're dying. The Alhaitham I know would never say something like that. How many fingers am I holding up?”

Quickly, Kaveh lifted his hand. Alhaitham let out a ragged breath and lifted his own hand shakily as well, tapping his pointer against each and every finger. “Five,” he answered, then intertwined his fingers with Kaveh’s before he even had the chance to realise what was going on.

There was one good thing about bleeding out from a stab wound: For once, Alhaitham didn't feel the strain in his lungs as his breathing was shallow regardless. He opened his eyes again and thought that if he were to make it through the night, he would most certainly regret a lot of the things he said while on the brink of unconsciousness.

Kaveh's left hand was still putting pressure on the wound, while the right was all Alhaitham's. He pulled it closer to his chest and held it right where his lungs tended to strain the most. A small smile ran past his lips and unexpectedly, he began to laugh until the sound turned into several bloody coughs. It was a weak thing, and Kaveh startled.

“Just hold on a little longer, I- I've got you,” he said, tightening his grip on Alhaitham's hand where he kept it pressed against his chest, his voice breaking. “Wait, I think I heard something. That must be Tighnari, just-”

Alhaitham's world faded to black. The last thing he saw were Kaveh’s glassy eyes, flitting nervously from side to side. When he opened his mouth again, the words he was trying to convey remained unheard.

When Alhaitham came back to his senses, his body felt heavy and sluggish.There was a familiar weight pressed against his side, which would at least explain why he was feeling particularly weighed down. Slowly, he opened his eyes.

To his left was a window. It was currently dark out, the room illuminated by several small candles. In the warm light, the next thing he saw was a golden head of hair by his side, knocked out cold on the mattress. Kaveh was still kneeling on the ground, however his upper body was draped across the mattress, his cheek resting against Alhaitham's thigh. One of his hands was wrapped around his wrist, the hold on Alhaitham's hand warm and reassuring. Alhaitham didn't understand how anyone could fall asleep in a position like that in the first place.

Slowly, he let his gaze drop. His stomach was wrapped in clean bandages and through the heavy veil of medicine, he reached out his hand. His chest ached with a want he had grown used to over the years. Today however, it seemed to be particularly strong.

Alhaitham reached out and put his free hand on top of Kaveh's head, rubbing it from left to right and effectively messing up his hair. Kaveh awoke with a grumble, his cheek now squished even closer against Alhaitham's thigh as he turned his head, his eyes still shut tight. “What do you think you're doing?” he grumbled. “Hands off.” He lazily swatted at Alhaitham’s hand, then raised his head frantically when he finally came back to his senses.

“You're awake!” he exclaimed.

Alhaitham pressed his hand further against Kaveh's head, rubbing it from side to side again as he complained. Kaveh grabbed his hand by the wrist and lifted his head, cheeks red and eyes glistening. “You! I have some choice words for you! What were you thinking?!” His pointer was placed right over Alhaitham's pulse point and he was certain if he were to pay proper attention to it, he would be able to feel it thrumming against his skin. Wildly, vividly, longingly.

“It wasn't as bad as you make it out to be. Let's not act like this is the first time I've been stabbed.”

“Not as bad?!” His voice rose several octaves. “You were delirious from blood loss! You could've died!! You could be dead now you stupid ape of a man and you would’ve bled out on our living room floor!”

Another voice joined him, much calmer in tone. “Kaveh, calm down and let him live. You still have ample time to hold this over his head.” Tighnari entered the room, the expression on his face bemused. “Alhaitham,” he said in lieu of a greeting.

“How are you feeling?”

Kaveh rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes angrily.

Alhaitham nodded his head. “Considering the circumstances, I'm feeling fine.”

Kaveh dropped his hand again to pinch the bridge of his nose instead. “Tighnari! He has lost all senses, say something to him,” he forced out, irritation barely hidden.

At a second glance, Kaveh looked exhausted. His eyes were puffy and his hair was a mess. The clothes he was wearing were unfamiliar, consisting of dark pants and a loose blouse that Tighnari and Cyno had probably lent to him.

Tighnari walked over to the fully stocked shelves and grabbed a vial of dark ointment.

“I'm sure you can do that perfectly well for me, considering how I'm putting him on bedrest until further notice.”

Alhaitham raised an eyebrow. “Now why would that be necessary?”

Before Kaveh could open his mouth again, Tighari returned to them, a finger lifted. “It's necessary,” he unwrapped the bandages to expose the gnarly cut. “Because you just got stabbed. That's your first reason right there. The second reason would be because the knife barely missed your liver. You should be grateful you made it out alive. That's plenty of reasons if you ask me.”

It seemed like his diagnosis wasn't news to Kaveh. While tightening his hold on Alhaitham's hand, he shot him an indecipherable look and nodded. “He will rest Tighnari, I’ll make sure of that.”

“Not if you end up breaking my hand as well.”

Kaveh gasped and turned back around to Tighnari, dropping Alhaitham's hand as if it were hot coal. “Do you see how he behaves around me? This is what I’m always talking about!”

A deep sigh left Tighnari's lips. “Kaveh…” he simply said before turning back around to his bottles and tinctures.

Alhaitham raised an eyebrow at Kaveh and stuck out his tongue.

“Tighnari! You must’ve seen that!”

“How old are you two again?” He returned to Alhaitham and Kaveh, now several bottles in hand. “Here's his medicine. Just make sure he takes it and gets some proper rest.” When he found Kaveh still staring at Alhaitham, arms crossed, he repeated his name. “Kaveh.”

“Yes. I'll look after him.”

Perhaps, fate was trying to meddle in their affairs after all. Whether that would be a blessing or a curse, only time would be able to tell.

#fanfiction #my writing #genshin impact #haikaveh #kavetham #kaveh x alhaitham #angst #hurt/comfort #hanahaki disease #alhaitham gets stabbed #the usual #sorry for possibly shitty formatting this was posted on mobile

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asimpforhotpixels · 2 years

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Title: The Creator's Guardian (Chapter 1)

Summary: a tale of Teyvat's creator's adventure as she tries to retrieve what she lost and hopefully purge her world of the corruption that plagues it. a tale told by a very overworked guardian as they try to save their beloved creator from her own stupidity and flirtiness

Series Warnings: Spoilers probably, Blood, Violence (a lot less than most impostor fics but still pretty gory) Overlooked trauma, Bottled emotions. will add more as the series progress

Additional Tags: Semi-Canon compliant, Women-centric as hell, OOC characters, Self-Indulgent series, Kinda SAGAU, the more accurate tag would be semi-soft! impostor cult AU. Creator/Guardian!Reader/Genshin Women. A very flirty, stubborn, "humor is my coping mechanism" Divine God. Omnipotent Characters. (A very sleep-deprived author so if you're confused, don't worry I am too.)

Reader Pronouns: They/Them

Word Count: 3541 words

Author’s Note: I...might've been too self-indulgent in this one- constructive criticism is welcomed <3, have fun loves <3

Taglist: @chocoenvy @moorzy

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“Have you decided on a name for yourself yet?” she asked you in an affectionate tone

She’s standing right beside you as you walked together in her garden. Your sense of smell is overwhelmed by the scent of countless flowers as your hands brush their petals. You opened your legs slightly as you walked when you felt the little fox cubs with their squirrel friends running between them.

“I still don’t see why that’s necessary, Your Grace.” you replied, carefully picking a flower to place behind your creator’s ear

“Why not? Aleizal (Ah-Ley-Zuhl) already chose hers.” she chuckles, caressing the Calla Lily that you placed

“Oh please, I rather not you compare me to…whatever she is.” You scoffed

“Is this jealousy?” Your creator teased, poking your cheek while giggling like a child

“I simply prefer offering everything I have and am to my one and only creator, is that perhaps too much to ask Your Grace?” You smirked, which made her lift an eyebrow with a slight red tint adorning her flower-framed face.

“My, my, my. You’ve been spending too much time with the Kitsunes haven’t you?” She pats your cheek before walking away with you right on her tail

“Have you ever heard of the saying ‘It is only with the heart that one can see rightly, what is essential is invisible to the eye?’ “ She speaks after a few minutes of silence

“Yes?” You ask, confused as to what exactly she’s implying

“Well, it is important for my heart that you gain a little autonomy. After all, whatever would you do when I’m gone if you’re too dependent on me?”

“My sole purpose is to be your guardian, your sword and shield. That’s all I-” your words got cut off when she unleashed a strong jet of hydro right into your mouth

“I created you as my companion. My friend if you will, perhaps even more.” She winks at you, enjoying the way ores began to appear on your face, your body’s way of expressing embarrassment

“I never wanted you to discard your own safety for my sake. But that’s exactly what you did, didn’t you? You threw yourself right in front of me when he attacked me, rendering you completely useless. Useless. You’re the reason I died in the first place.”

What? This wasn’t how it went-

“Of course, it wasn’t how it went.” Someone chuckled right on your ear as the scene in front of you faded into pitch black

“Poor little guardian~ So pathetic.” That voice reverberated around your head as you frantically searched for the source

You then felt a hand grip your jaw, forcing it to stay in place as she played the most painful memory that you keep so deeply hidden inside your brain.

The Creator’s downfall.

You are forced to watch as the same Gods that your beloved Creator made barged into her domain, an eerie-looking device in their hands and leaving no time for talking automatically activated it. Deep, evil smirks on their face as you realized that whatever it is, it posed a great threat to your Creator. You only managed to push her aside, taking the hit that was meant for her.

The last sight you saw was her. Her beautiful galaxy-embedded eyes filled with pure fear and despair. And with that, you remained unconscious and inactive. Until The Tsaritsa along with the First and Third Harbinger, Pierro and Columbina managed to set you free.

Since that night, it was all you could ever remember as you gazed up into the night sky. The moment where you failed to protect Teyvat’s true Goddess.

“Hmmm… Such a deliciously pitiful expression you have there.” She says as she finally comes into your line of sight

“Aleizal.” You growled out, attempting to summon your double-bladed polearm, your signature weapon, only for it to not heed your call

“Oh dear, have the years corroded your brain, or did you just desperately try to forget everything that is connected to me? I must say, that hurts. Whatever that is you are doing? It won’t work” She sighs in faux hurt

“Cease with the hollow and flawed speech and tell me what it is you truly want.” You stared at her annoyingly beautiful eyes.

“My, If I were truly the Creator herself, you wouldn’t even dare to speak like this. Too bad I just wear the same face.” She tilts your chin upwards with such force as she languidly runs her fingers on the seal she placed right on your throat

She hums in satisfaction before walking away, allowing you to look around. You know in yourself that you’re still somewhere in Snezhnaya since you can still feel the presence of Tsaritsa’s gnosis. However, you’re somewhere in-

“You’re in my domain. You are as powerless as when you were merely a bunch of ores and flowers when the creator made you in here so don’t even bother fighting the ropes around your wrists.” She nonchalantly says as she sits in an elevated chair. You refuse to call it a throne because she doesn’t deserve that.

“Since when did you have a domain?”

“Since I learned to be independent of course”

“You mean when you betrayed our Benevolent Goddess?” as soon as those words escaped she fixed a cold hard glare right to your eyes as an invisible force pulled you close to her,

“I never betrayed her.” She calmly stated. However, you can see the anger in her eyes, the anger that was slowly boiling over

“I simply… explored other choices. Found other methods to become much more powerful than what our Goddess would’ve allowed” You sarcastically smiled at her

“Ah yes. Did that option involve sucking his-”

“OH YOU-” She tried to grip the collar of your Fatui Uniform but it only passed through as you feel yourself fading away

“Aww, have you been growing weak lately? Not enough divine presence I presume? Can’t even keep your domain up for 15 minutes.” You teased her, knowing full well that in terms of divine presence, you have your reserves running lower than hers since she’s been hanging with false Gods.

“I suggest keeping your mouth shut. The only reason I was able to drag you here was that you were vulnerable to the sudden influx of divine presence. Get off your high horse because I will soon snuff that source out like I’ve done thousands of years ago. Mark. My. Words.”

You woke up with a sharp gasp and with a sharp jolt as you sat up quickly. Only when you felt a cold hand on your shoulder did you release yourself from your stupor, slowly calming down as you took in the familiar surroundings.

“You gave us quite the fright little one.” Tsaritsa guides you back into a laying position as she caresses your hair

“I am significantly older than you, Tsaritsa. Besides, how long was I unconscious?” You groaned, still feeling a slight headache

“3 weeks. We already possess the Geo gnosis, which in turn gives us possession of 3 gnoses. La Signora has secured that and is on her way home with Tartaglia. Lumine has also started searching for the Creator, however, she always seems to be a step too late.” The Tsaritsa recounted as she gives you a glass of water followed by a tray of mysterious medicine

“Dottore dropped these before he left with Pantalone for Liyue, Pantalone appears to have something to fix within the affairs of the Northland Bank. He says that these should help stabilize your body and reduce the headaches, however, you must seek the Creator as soon as possible. Not just for your sake but hers as well. That wretched impostor has issued another decree…” The Tsaritsa walks toward the large window you have in your chambers, it oversees the southwest part of her kingdom, admiring the way the snowflakes glow in her vicinity.

The temperature in your room gets colder, defeating your fireplace’s warmth. The Tsaritsa was never one to express emotions clearly. You must first get to know her intimately, if she lets you that is before you are able to accurately identify her tells. The temperature phenomenon only happens when she’s in a state of red hot anger.

The Tsaritsa explains that the decree was supposedly made after the countless reports of an impostor running around and actively hurting people through suspicious means such as controlling monsters to attack knights etc. Due to that, the ever-so-merciful Creator has ordered a detainment for said impostor in order for a trial to happen.

“Are you implying that everyone in Teyvat is hunting down Her Ladyship?” You stood up, your body’s regeneration skills partnered with Dottore’s medicine have worked wonders and you feel as good as new

“Yes.”

Suddenly a strong quake shook the ground as your fireplace fought to keep your fires contained, Your body shook with the earthquake and a frown adorned your face.

“I will be walking myself down into the abyss first before they try to harm a single hair on her grace’s hair.”

“Yes, yes. I would appreciate it if you do so without either burying my castle under an avalanche, crumbling it, or melting it down. Thank you very much.” She says as she plucks a flaming flower from your head, encasing it in cryo to prevent it from harming anyone

You shook yourself out of your small fit and began dressing, ready for travel as you plan on journeying to Inazuma as soon as possible.

“Well, look on the bright side of everything, Dear Guardian. One of Arlecchino’s children has intel and evidence that Her Ladyship is heading towards Inazuma. Apparently, The Abyss Princess’ twin brother has managed to smuggle her in the Crux.”

“I see. His name is Aether. if you forgot.”

“Oh, I know.”

“You just-”

It was then that you felt a very familiar disturbance in the air, it felt eerie, yet comforting. A gentle prickle on your skin.

“It seems that Lumine is coming bearing some news,” Tsaritsa says as she waits for Lumine to step through

However, Lumine didn’t, instead only her hand came through. As if sensing your direction, the hand darted towards you, grabbing you and pulling you towards the abyss portal.

“Hey! Lumi what gives…” Your voice fades as your entire being rearranges itself.

You are quite used to this since Lumine used to bring you along in her travels but the experience never ceases to be so…disorienting.

Somewhere in Inazuma…

“Oh fuck fuck fuck putangina fuck shit fuck fuck shit pussy cunt fucking goddamnit.” A certain outlander cusses out loud as she is chased by a horde of angry people, quite a lot of them are vision holders, in fact, they were the very same characters she knows and loves, even the fucking archons are chasing her

“This looks like a scene from a movie where there’s a witch hunt, but I’m not a witch. I mean, I don’t think I am, do witches even exist in Genshin? OH SHIT- Barsibatoes’ arrow nearly hit me there woohoo. I guess we leaning and rocking here.” She spoke her thoughts with a breathless huff

“What did I do to deserve this honestly! I should’ve pet more cats since obviously the cat molecules on me isn’t triggering Venti’s allergy-”

“Cease running at once and face your punishment impostor!” Her words were cut by some random shogunate soldier

“Rude! I was trying to monologue here. This reminds me of high school days honestly, only I never remember being so…athletic.” and just as she says that, she trips on a pebble and lands flat on her face

“Fuck. I have read far too many SAGAU fics to know that this happening with 3 archons right on my ass is never a good sign,” she tells herself as she scrambles to get up as she always did.

The fall scraped her skin, thus allowing an inky black substance to trickle down the wound. She knew that these people were right. If she truly fell into Teyvat, then she would be the true God had she had golden blood. But no, hers was pitch black as if the Abyss itself is in her. However what confused her the most is the fact that with every tired step she made, grass would grow so tall as if hiding her from her pursuers. And should she encounter any mob or animal on her way, they would attack those who are chasing her

It was all too confusing for her, however, she doesn’t have even a single second to think because Raiden Shogun, Zhongli, and Venti were sending attack upon attack right at her as she tries her best to avoid it all. She noticed that they had this animalistic gaze fixed on her, their eyes have this flickering reddish-purple tint. Which would’ve been normal on Ei or rather, The Shogun since she is the Electro Archon, however for Zhongli and Venti to have the same? It was suspicious, but she can’t afford to worry about that on top of her own safety.

And then her luck runs out.

She skidded to a stop as she realized that she was chased to the edge of a cliff. Which mountain cliff is she in? She doesn’t know and she doesn’t care to find out. With her heart pounding with adrenaline and fear, her breathing faster than Lightning McQueen, she turned to face her assailants.

“I know I said that I would’ve loved to be stuck down by your booba sword but I meant it in a sexy way, not in a murderous way.” She nervously chuckled at the Shogun who was slowly advancing towards her, with Zhongli and Venti shadowing her.

“I will pay no mind to your distasteful nonsense impostor, so long as you let yourself be tied, arrested, and punished for your crimes!” The Shogun declares as she points her polearm at her

“What crimes?! I simply just woke up in this world with an arrow pointed to my face by that tone-deaf bard over there?! What? Is being this attractive a crime now?! I haven’t done a single thing that would be considered “evil” when compared to the deeds you all have done in your past. Makoto, Guizhong, and whoever the fuck’s body that is you’re wearing would all be so disappointed-” Her words were yet again interrupted as The Shogun slashed her throat with such rage in her animalistic eyes

Her hands quickly went up her throat in an effort to stop the disgusting black blood she now possesses. It overflowed so ominously, threatening. She felt lightheaded as she staggers back. She then gazes up at the people in front of her as if to mock them. She felt how the air crackled with electricity, how the wind picked up speed as the ground shook.

She failed to notice how the non-vision wielders have now fainted.

She failed to notice the pain and confusion in the archon’s eyes

She did notice the very fact that as she struggles to breathe, the skies opened up, a figure gliding down with grace as the crowd parted. They radiate power, elegance, and knowledge.

It was then she realized, that this was Teyvat’s Goddess… and that it is really weird seeing your face on another body. This must be how Venti’s friend felt.

In her brain’s last-ditch effort for safety, she figured that death by heights is a much better way to die rather than be a spectacle and die while being gawked at like some animal at a zoo.

And so she allowed herself to fall backward, feeling that familiar tug in your stomach, similar to the feeling you feel when you ride a rollercoaster.

She enjoyed the last bits of life, she always enjoyed the wind rushing through her body, the thrill of it made her laugh bitterly

“I hope this is all just a fucking dream.” As soon as she uttered those words, she felt herself slam into something hard.

It was hard, yes. But it was…softer than what she thought it would be.

“Your Eminence!” she heard someone exclaim, it was then followed by frantic shouts as she felt wave after wave of relief pass through her

Soon enough, she felt good enough that she managed to open her eyes and what greeted her were warm pairs of eyes, so vibrant and comforting that in a haze she clung unto whoever this was.

“Pretty eyes and warm…” and with that, she succumbed to the darkness that was tempting her since ages ago

You, on the other hand, couldn’t stop the rage that was now boiling over.

“Herald.”

“Yes, my liege?” Answered the Abyss Herald that Lumine has by her side

“Stay here and guard our Creator. If even the smallest scratch adorns her body while I go and deal with some pest, your head will be on a stick. Is that clear?” You threatened in an eerily calm tone as you carefully set your beloved creator down on the huge comfy leaf that you have conjured up

“Yes, my liege.” He replies with a slight quiver

Take a deep breath in and close your eyes in order to remind yourself that the creator would definitely punish you for killing off every single being in this world.

Well, what the creator doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

And with that, you manipulated the strings of fate, tying each and everyone present as of this moment in an intricately designed web of despair. Their screams echoed into the night, the trees shook as if laughing and the animals watched in morbid curiosity.

“[NAME!]” She angrily shouted, desperately struggling to get out of the chains binding her, cutting her as golden droplets escape her flesh bag.

“I have warned you countless times Aleizal. Harm me all you want for your sadistic pleasure, but never harm Her Grace. It was quite simple, isn’t it? I let you play around, parading as Her Grace for your entertainment while I focused on looking for ways to revive Her Grace. This is the last bit of my patience Alei. Do. Not. Make. Me. Your. Enemy.“ You gripped her jar the same way she did yours, frowning deeply as you resent the malicious and brutish expression on her face.

You resent the fact that she dares taint her eminence’s face and honor with her repulsive personality, expression, and actions.

You suddenly let her go as you stumbled back away from her, scratching your throat with your claws as the sigil embedded there lit up

You’re running out of time.

As much as you’re enjoying this scenery in front of you right now, there are much more pressing matters to attend to. So without a word, you jumped from the cliff and landed right in front of Lumine and Her Grace as you quickly picked up while the Herald conjured up a portal.

“Lumine!” a masculine voice shouts, his head peeking down into the cliff

“Aether…” Lumine whispered, looking over her shoulder

“You can stay, however, I have no guarantee as to how long that rope will last so you have to make your decision… leave him once again, or drag him to Snezhnaya.” You state

Leaving Lumine alone to make her decision you hurriedly step into the portal. While you may have healed Her Grace from her superficial wounds, you sense that her soul has yet to completely pierce herself together, thus letting such uncontrollable streams of divine power and presence escape. She must’ve been so tired.

You heaved a sigh as you realized that not everything is as it seems. The world created by the woman in your arms still has so many secrets that you have yet to discover.

Your eyes then widened as the events that happened today due to your impulses crashed down on you. Walking forward as soon as you felt the cold and the crystal floors at your feet, droplets of red, gold, and black blood drip down from you, a sour look on your face as fatui agents look at you in shock while they fall down to their knees

It was either because of the feeling of awe they felt upon seeing their Goddess…or the despair upon seeing you dirty the floors, either way, all the ruckus has managed to drag all the harbingers and the Tsaritsa out of their chambers.

“[Name]?”

“I think I just started another war.”

You got your creator back…but at what cost?

#genshin sagau #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin women x reader #fatui harbinger women x reader #la signora x reader #rosalyne kruzchka lohefalter #la signora #arlecchino x reader #the knave x reader #columbina x reader #damselette x reader #sandrone x reader #marionette x reader #sagau #I don't know what else to tag this with hhhhh #this was supposed to be a soft fic?

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bloodynereid · 1 year

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BLOODYNEREID'S MULTIFANDOM MASTERLIST ✭

"she had literature inside her heart that she couldn't sometimes write." - juansen dixon

requests are currently closed but feel free to message me if you want to chat ꨄ︎

-> HOUSE OF THE DRAGON:

RHAENYRA TARGARYEN:

Tinsel, Gold and Dragons - one-shot - modern au! - fem! reader x rhaenyra targaryen

OTHER:

Eye of Madness/Eye of Greatness - part 1 part 2 part 3?? (not yet finished) fem! oc x aemond targaryen but mostly platonic! oc with the targaryens

Zaldrītsos - Little Dragon - part 1 part 2 (requested) sickly fem! sister reader x targaryen/velaryon family

-> WEDNESDAY:

WEDNESDAY ADDAMS:

Donec mors nos separaverit - Love and Death - one-shot fem! necromancer reader x wednesday addams

Dancing In Green - one-shot (requested) fem! reader x wednesday addams

Platform Mary Janes - headcanons (requested) gn! shorter reader x wednesday addams

-> DAISY JONES & THE SIX:

WARREN ROJAS/RHODES:

Rulebreaker - one-shot fem! reader x warren rojas

Rhythm of Our Love - one-shot (requested) fem! reader x warren rojas

Notes on a Rockstar and a Bookstore Owner - headcanons (requested) fem! booksmart reader x warren rojas

The Language of Love - one-shot (requested) fem! reader x warren rojas

Innervated Love - one-shot (requested) fem! reader x warren rojas

Comets Ricochet - one-shot (requested) fem! reader x warren rojas

GRAHAM DUNNE:

Here's to the Fools Who Dream - one-shot (requested) fem! actor reader x graham dunne

Tucked Away in the Ocean - one-shot (requested) fem! reader x graham dunne

KAREN SIRKO:

Radiance - one-shot (requested) fem! gf reader x karen sirko

Echoes of Pain & Love - one-shot (requested) fem! reader x karen sirko

Intertwined Heartbeats - one-shot (requested) fem! reader x karen sirko

OTHER:

Reconciliation - one-shot (requested) warren rojas x eddie roundtree

Dissected Blush - one-shot (requested) the band x reader (platonic) (reader x fem!oc)

-> GEN V & THE BOYS UNIVERSE:

JORDAN LI:

Reapers & Ravens - multi-chaptered fic - chapter i chapter ii chapter iii chapter iv chapter v chapter vi chapter vii chapter viii - fem! oc x jordan li (s1 of gen v completed!)

Time and Space - drabble (requested) gn! reader x jordan li (platonic ish)

Whiskey in the Shadows - one-shot (requested) gn! reader x jordan li

Kisses Under the Moon's Eye - one-shot (requested) fem! reader x jordan li

Psych Classes & Lakes - headcanons (requested) fem! reader x jordan li

Falling Grand Pianos - headcanons (requested) gn! reader x jordan li

Heartstrings - one-shot (requested) fem! rival reader x jordan li

Inked Souls - drabble (requested) gn! human reader x jordan li

Seeds of Jealousy - one-shot (requested) fem! reader x jordan li

Ice Crystals & Hot Chocolate - drabble (requested) gn! reader x jordan li

Stained Glass - one-shot (requested) fem! reader x jordan li

Stolen Kisses - headcanons (requested) gn! reader x jordan li

CATE DUNLAP:

Forgotten Snows - one-shot - fem! reader x cate dunlap

LUKE RIORDAN:

Double Sided - one-shot (requested) fem! reader x luke riordan

OTHER:

Paws of Darkness - one-shot - a gen v mystery (part 2 of my halloween double feature) - limoreau, sam x emma, cate x andre

Brewing Love - one-shot - limoreau - coffee shop au

Paper Petals - one-shot (requested) gn! reader x marie moreau x jordan li

Love (A Tale of Two Souls) - one-shot (requested) gn! reader x oc, x jordan li

A Gen V Christmas - headcanons (requested) - limoreau, sam x emma, cate x luke

-> SUCCESSION:

ROMAN ROY:

Lunch Confessions - one-shot (requested) fem! reader x roman roy

-> SCREAM FRANCHISE:

OTHER:

Scream for Me - headcanons (part 1 of halloween double feature) my fav scream killers x reader (there are fem & gender neutral readers)

Of Flowers Flooded With Blood - drabble (requested) fem! adopted reader x tara x sam carpenter (platonic)

-> TOP GUN:

BRADLEY 'ROOSTER' BRADSHAW:

Sorrys & I Love Yous - drabble (requested) gn! reader x rooster

House of Cards - one-shot (requested) gn! reader x rooster

OTHER:

Bundled Up - headcanons (requested) gn! reader x rooster/gn! reader x phoenix/gn! reader x hangman

-> MASTERS OF THE AIR:

MAJOR JOHN 'BUCKY' EGAN:

Navy Blue Ink - part 1 part 2 fem! reader x john egan

Strangers in the Night - one-shot fem! reader x john egan

MAJOR ROBERT 'ROSIE' ROSENTHAL:

Zodiac Suite - one-shot fem! reader x rosie rosenthal

Those Sunlit Kisses Universe - part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 fem! oc (lucy everett) x rosie rosenthal (not yet finished)

MARJORIE 'MARGE' SPENCER:

Melted Gold - one-shot fem! reader x marge spencer

navigation

#maria's masterlist #masterlist #house of the dragon #fanfic #wednesday #fanfics #updates #djats #daisy jones and the six #gen v #masters of the air

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fox-the-artist-fruit-canid · 6 months

Text

¡Happy Hallowen!

Also late cringetober day 31 (i have to post the rest of the event here)

Also the earth people in my au.

Gaz in this au is actually a demon spawn that membrane adopted afther fighting with a demon that tried to kill gaz mom for carriying her in her belly,sadly gaz mom didn't survive childs birth and the dad aka the demon was desintegrated by membrane.

So becuse of this membrane ended with a new child on his care,gaz only reveals her true form during eclupses both solar and lunar,new and full moons and in the night of hallowen and during the period of dia de muertos.

Dib in this au is both a honey and normal vampire so thats why he has pointy ears and sharp fangs.

In this au has passed 4 earthen years since zims arrival and dib is 16 and gaz 15 and are now in highschool,both continue to be themselfs only by the diference dib is not as intense as he was in his 12's mostly since he kinda gave up.

Also despite still being into the paranormal dib now takes it more seriously using a mixture of normal science and paranormal science to investigate,he also uses magic but that is unrelated.

Meanwhile zim has given up afther 2 years or the equivalent of 2 irken month knowing perfectly his mission was fake and decided to live a calm life on earth afther coming out of the denial.

Skoodge started to live with zim afther he escaped to earth watching for a place to be at and not die in the cold space and he stayed with zim since then.

Tak is a similar case to skoodge only by the diference she surrounded the area for a while before asking zim to stay in his house,afther some apologies she got to stay.

Minimoose and gir are themselfs simply.

#my art #defective lotus au #iz au #four for the price of one au #a promising future au #a tale of blood petals au #dib membrane #gaz membrane #invader zim #invader zim au #invader skoodge #invader tak #gir #minimoose #cringetober

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acerathia · 8 months

Text

two birds || Act V

Summary:

Hanahaki: A disease stemming from bottling up romantic feelings, as these decide to grow inside the lungs and the blood system of the sick person, resulting in flowers. Thus the first symptoms are the coughing up of flower petals accompanied by pain and breathlessness, as the flower continues to grow as long as the affected does not confess their feelings. Alternatively, the growing flower can be removed via surgery, but it may affect the ill person’s ability to feel love in various forms. Or How do you react with falling in love with no real chance? Simple, a tragedy in five acts.

Wordcount: 0.7k

Read on AO3 || Masterlist

Pairing:

Obito Uchiha / Reader

Tags/CW:

features of a tragedy, hanahaki disease, childhood friends, some degree of isolation, No War AU,

Note:

Please note that I choose to not tag some stuff, as it contains heavy spoilers, proceed with caution and with the knowledge that everything is either connected to the tragedy aspect, or the hanahaki disease itself. last chapter, enjoy!!

Scene I. – OBITO UCHIHA, your home, dust settled into their new home, boards creaking with and echo of ‘i miss you’

He hadn't entered this place in such a long time, he couldn't bear the sight of the creaky floors, singing the tales of your past, of the dusty curtain, unmoving when the wind should be blowing through its threads. And despite the old air, or especially because of the rotting air, everything smells like flowers, sickeningly sweet with a tingle of iron embracing it. The smell covers everything, the faint wisps of tea of the past, the fresh paint cracking.

A wave of nausea threatens to spill into his insides, but he gulps and pulls through. He has to, his honor as a ninja demands a cool head (he had to, or else he wouldn't know what to do with himself). Still, he enters the kitchen, not the bedroom, never the bedroom, filled with blooming, rotting flowers, and opens a window to at least allow a tiny breeze in, in hopes to get rid of that clogging smell. He's almost inclined to just stick his head out of it, but pulls himself together before doing so and takes a seat, his seat at the table.

For a moment he expects to smell warm tea, to hear the clacking of the utensils. But there's nothing but his own strained breath. Silence in front of him. And before he can think too much about it, he pulls some crumbled paper out of his pocket, putting it on the table, smoothing it down as best as he can.

He hadn't opened the letter yet, had been waiting for some calm space, for the right time, even if in truth he had been pushing it away, trying to not think about it. But he's aware of his need for closure.

That's why he's sitting there, fingers slowly opening the heavy paper, carefully. Unfolding it he averts his gaze lest he skips over the text in his slow haste.

An Inhale. And exhale. A gaze upon the paper.

Hello Obito, honestly, I don’t know what to write, what to tell you, but if you’re reading this, it means I’m dead. I barely remember a time when I wasn’t by your side, when we hadn’t talked for hours, or simply sat in silence. And this changed of course, like everything else had to. We grew up and our routines changed, time squeezed tight. Still, that didn’t take from the joy of being in your presence, the laughter deep in my lungs. That laughter didn’t stop this, though. The disease settling there. The Hanahaki Disease, apparently. The flowers were beautiful, and they kept blooming inside me, the love unfurling and killing me slowly. The first time it happened, I knew there was something wrong with me. Why did this happen to me? Did I not deserve to love, to be loved? But I realized that despite the deep ache, I loved, and I loved too much, everything, and nothing. And love was such an ingrained part of me, I could hardly get rid of it, only to survive. So I allowed it to consume me. Doesn’t it sound romantic? To be consumed by your own immense love… And you’re probably asking yourself, why, or rather who. Well, I’m taking the seeds of that secret to my grave. They shouldn’t carry the guilt, the burden, as they have no responsibility in this. It’s my fault, and mine alone. I’m the one who refused to get rid of that all-consuming love, as in a way I loved it too… I’m getting off-topic, as usual. I’m writing you this letter to apologize, I’m sorry, wholeheartedly. I never wanted to leave, I never wanted to avoid you, I never wanted to hurt you like this. Writing this hurts more than the roots inside of me; I keep thinking of everything we've ever done together, your dreams, our hopes, and the giggles as Sensei broke you and Kakashi apart. I miss you, with every breath I take. And you’re always going to be in my heart, the dearest and closest to me, for eternity and beyond. I hope I can rest in yours, never forgotten. Take care of yourself, as I will be always watching over you, in the sunshine tickling your nose, the whispers of the wind, listen closely.

Again, I’m sorry, for everything I left behind. Yours, dearly

#obito x reader #obito x you #obito x yn #obito uchiha x reader #obito uchiha x you #obito uchiha x yn #uchiha obito x reader #uchiha obito x you #uchiha obito x yn

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junosmindpalace · 2 years

Note

Can you do dr stone angst?? preferrably senku x reader and the reader experiencing one-sided/unrequited love 🏃🏃 pls no happy ending i need to suffer 🏃🏃🏃 [though if you do know how to write a hanahaki au, pls do that instead] 🏃🏃🏃

"What a silly way to die. Death by flowers,” is what you thought to yourself when you first heard of the illness. “there’s no way such a thing could exist."

~ Hi anon! Thank you so much for your request! Im not very familiar with the hanahaki trope but i wanted to give it a shot - i hope it’s okay! Hopefully none of the characters are too ooc </3

P.s., yellow tulips represent one-sided love in japanese :)

warnings: death, vomiting (flowers), talk of sickness, blood, some swearing. there are no manga spoilers :)

words: over 4k holy this is long

Constructive feedback is always welcome! I’m always looking to improve!

Requests are open! (check my pinned post!)

The Hanahaki disease was vaguely mentioned in one of Ishigami Village’s 100 tales. A woman, in love with a man who didn’t love her back, had suffocated on yellow tulips that she could not stop throwing up. Nobody knew much else about the mysterious illness- no origins were stated, no cure, and there was no record of anyone in the village ever experiencing such an ailment. Maybe it was a metaphor of some kind?

‘What a silly way to die. Death by flowers,” is what you thought to yourself when you first heard of the illness. “there’s no way such a thing could exist.

But if Chrome has his sorcery, then maybe it wasn’t so improbable. Who knows how much Ishigami Village has yet to discover? Besides, the 100 tales are the reason we know so much already."

When Ruri first fell ill, some speculated she had the mysterious disease. Since they were young, people had always known that Chrome and Ruri shared a strong bond- perhaps Ruri’s feelings were strong enough to make her sick. As time went on however, Ruri never once coughed up flowers or flower petals, so the idea was eliminated.

But Ruri was still ill, and nobody knew how to cure her for good. No one was certain that the hot spring water Kohaku brought for baths had healing properties, and nobody even knew what it was that was ailing her.

That was until one day, Kohaku told you about a stranger she had brought to the village with the hot spring water for her older sister. Her ponytail was tied differently, and she was late to retrieve the hot spring water, which was very unlike her. Just who exactly was this stranger, and what were their intentions? If Kohaku trusts them enough to bring them back to the village, however, you had reasoned with yourself, maybe they weren’t all that dangerous.

The stranger was a boy your age who introduced himself as Senku, and you had eyed him with a raised brow. Chrome stood not too far behind him, running his mouth about some minerals he had in his shed, but not in the arrogant way he usually did. It was a surprise to see how outgoing your friend was with a foreigner. Chrome and Kohaku explained to you that Senku was a sorcerer- sorry, scientist- able to cure Ruri of her sickness, and upon hearing this, you were excited but reluctant to trust him.

You wanted to be cold at first. Unattached, uneasy to sway, but god did Senku make it difficult. Even when he was an asshole, you couldn’t help but hook on to his every word, enthralled with everything he had to say and offer. You’d observe him in the midst of an experiment with curiosity and stare in amazement over the incredible results he was able to produce. It seemed supernatural to you.

It didn’t take long for you to become a citizen of the Kingdom of Science, aiding your friends in creating the panacea that would help Ruri beat her sickness. After obtaining magnets with iron and gaining some help from the villagers and outsider, Gen Asagiri, it was time for the final test, with Kinro and Ginro helping to generate the electricity you worked so hard to create. You were on the roof of the shed with Senku and Chrome, waiting in anticipation.

“Y/N, does the night scare you?” Senku asked you suddenly as he concentrated his eyes on the bamboo fiber in front of him with a small frown.

“Huh? Well…sure. Everything gets all dark.” You replied, studying his face. “Why do you ask?”

“Back in my day, there was no darkness. With old man Edison’s incandescent light bulb, humanity beat back the night, conquering all twenty four hours of the day. Through the power of science, mankind defeated the darkness, and now we’re gonna do it again.” Your eyes trailed down to watch Senku bring the wires closer to the ends of the fiber. “For the first time in 3700 years, the flame of science will burn.”

The ends met, and a brilliant white light brightly illuminated your faces. You stared in awe of the artificial light, amazed by how Senku was able to make such a thing happen. You realized how loud your heart was pounding, partly because of the incredible power of science and the excitement you felt over this invention and the progress you were making with the Kingdom of Science, but mostly because of the slow smile that spread across Senku’s face, a determined glint in his eye dancing in the warm light. His smile widened when the light fizzed out and he met your eyes, and the world around you seemed to grow quiet.

Multiple windows of opportunity opened as you continued to gather materials and gain allies. It was only after Senku won the grand bout that your feelings began nagging at you.

Sitting around a fire with your friends at Senku’s celebration party, you tuned out the conversation and let your mind drift to the scientist.

You felt a strong sense of pride knowing Senku and how far he’s come in such a short amount of time, starting off as merely a stranger you and many others were weary of to becoming a leader. Your heart raced every time you watched him fall again in love with his passion, and you found yourself wanting to be near him always; to indulge in what he does, to know of every crazy concept he lived out 3700 years ago. And then you realized what was happening and started thinking very fast.

Without realizing it, you had slowly been falling in love with Senku. With his mind, his passion and persistence, his wit and cunningness. With him. And with every new hurdle you cleared with the Kingdom of Science, with every thrilling experiment and development, you fell further.

But you knew how Senku was. Romance didn’t interest him in the slightest- in fact, he was actually disgusted by the idea of being romantically involved with someone. So how the hell were you to go about this?

He was never going to return your feelings, and you had no idea if your own feelings would fade. You would never be involved with Senku in the way that you wanted to be and were horrified at the idea of him finding out about your feelings and being repulsed by you, terrified of losing the friendship you had with him. Right in the midst of your panic, you felt your chest tighten and you started coughing uncontrollably, covering your mouth with your hand. You and the others were taken aback, and you did everything you could to seize your fit.

“Y/N! Are you okay?!” Kohaku cried out and put a hand on your shoulder, while the others around you stared in concern.

“I’m…fine…” you coughed out, taking sharp inhales and moving your hands away from your face, balling them into fists. “Something just got caught…in my throat…”

“You sure you're okay?”

“Yup…! No worries!” You straightened up and gave your friend a tight-lipped smile as she reluctantly brought her hand away from you. I need to pull myself together. Senku is outrageously observant. You were grateful that he hadn’t yet joined the party and noticed the yellow flower petal you tucked away into your pocket.

After Ruri was healed and Senku became chief, the Kingdom of Science’s top priority was defeating the Tsukasa Empire, and there was no time to waste.

Only ten minutes after your incident, Senku had returned to the village, and Gen revealed that Tsukasa was planning to strike. Everything moved quickly from there.

After Hyoga and Homura’s attack on the village, the citizens were working to rebuild what was lost as well as create an invention that would give the Kingdom of Science the upper hand against the Tsukasa Empire. Senku revealed that the next painstaking project the Kingdom of Science would undergo would be to create something called a cellphone, a device that allowed one to communicate with others over long distances. You and everyone else could hardly wrap your minds around such a thing (including the modern-timer, Gen, but for different reasons). This is the kind of technology Senku’s people possessed? Was such a thing really possible?

And Senku smiled his signature smile with that determined glint in his eye, and you were reminded that this was Senku we were talking about. With his brilliance and resilience and the help of the villagers, he could absolutely pull something like that off. Your heart skipped a beat as his eyes met yours, and he nodded in sincerity upon seeing the skeptic look on your face. A cell phone, huh?

During the project, your condition didn’t get any better. You had started developing frequent pains in your chest and you couldn’t stop coughing up flower petals. It started with one or two once or twice a day, and over time increased to four or five petals up to three times a day. Luckily, you were able to sense the petals rise painfully up your throat, and it gave you enough time to make a hurried excuse to get away from the others before being thrown into a coughing fit.

Even with the pain, there was no chance in hell you were going to tell anyone about the disease. It was your fault for being so emotional, especially during such a busy period. Nobody had the time to look out for you and worry, you could make it through this on your own.

But you found that the heartache you felt over Senku only grew with time. Unfortunately, your feelings didn’t fade in the slightest, but only grew stronger and stronger. I mean how could they not? Watching him sprawled over blueprints with a slight pout, listening to him ramble about the science behind this and that- it was all so endearing. You wanted desperately to tell him how you felt and to have your feelings reciprocated, but that wasn’t an option. You could never be intimate in the way you wanted to be with Senku.

You were painfully reminded of this on days where Senku was a bit more reserved than usual. When he would retreat into the observatory or the lab for hours, or when he seemed particularly serious about the mission, avoiding jokes and keeping conversation outside of the cell phone to a minimum. You felt like you were straying away from him, and on these days, your condition worsened and was became increasingly more difficult to hide.

Soft touches you initiated had him feigning ignorance, moving away from you and continuing his work. Questions you asked about himself were quickly shut down and maneuvered to more science talk, and you'd retreat from him after failing to be further let into his heart throwing up more and more pretty yellow petals.

After months of hard work, the cell phones (yes, phone(s). Can you believe Senku didn’t tell anyone that TWO were needed?) were complete. A plan was formed to send Gen, Chrome and Magma to hand off one of the phones to Taiju and Yuzuriha, Senku’s modern day friends who were spies within the Tsukasa Empire, and get them to convince other members to join the Kingdom of Science by telling an elaborate lie.

It was the evening prior to Gen, Chrome and Magma’s departure. Everyone was asleep except for you, who sat under a tree staring at the stars, coughing up more petals here and there. The hanahaki disease didn’t make it easy to sleep and on a good night, you’d only wake up once. You collected every flower petal you threw up and kept them all in small, secret pouches you had sewn into your clothing. You were miserable. Nothing you tried was helping cure this illness that, only a year ago, you were certain was fictional. You knew nothing about the sickness either, working with barely any information on how to rid yourself of this wretched sickness.

The only cure you could think of was the most straightforward one- your romantic feelings needed to be returned. The illness seemed to be connected to one-sided love, so surely if Senku returned your feelings, you would be cured, right?

But that was never going to happen. Senku hadn’t once expressed any romantic interest in you or anyone else. And if you were to tell him that the only way you could avoid death was by having your feelings returned, that’d put a massive weight on him. You couldn’t do that. You couldn’t let Senku feel like he had killed you.

You coughed again, this time a little more violently, and covered your mouth. God, you hated this.

“You sure do have quite the asty-nay cough there.” A voice sang and cut through the still air.

You quickly put your hands down and turned your head toward the owner. Only a distance away was the mentalist, a small smile dancing on his face as he approached you and took a seat at the foot of the tree beside you.

“It’s quite chilly. Wish spring would come already.”

“What are you doing out here?”

Gen chuckled and craned his neck to look at you. “Couldn’t sleep and decided to come out to get some fresh air. I have quite the role in this scheme, it’s stressful, you know?”

You rolled your eyes at his whining, continuing to gaze up at the stars.

“It must also be stressful covering up that dreadful hanahaki disease.”

Your eyes widened and you quickly whipped your head to look at him, but his gaze had left your face, now staring off into the same sky. Shit, I’m figured out. Do I play dumb?

“No point in trying to hide it from me, dear Y/N. I’ve been observing you. Your symptoms are all too familiar.” Gen sang again. Damn. It’s like he read my mind. And in a way he did. He is a mentalist after all. But how would he know of the hanahaki disease? It must’ve existed in his time.

“Yes, us modern-timers also dealt with hanahaki. Lots of lives were lost over it. It’s quite poetic, honestly. Death by flowers.” Gen commented in an airy tone. “The more pressing question is, how do you know of it? You didn’t recognize pneumonia but know of this?”

“It was briefly mentioned in one of the 100 tales. Nobody in the village had ever borne the sickness, so I assumed it wasn’t real. Well, that was until…”

The light-heartedness of the conversation quickly faded away. Gen’s face was now hard, mouth formed into a frown, and you sighed.

“Of course you would’ve been the first to get suspicious.”

“You mean dear Senku hasn’t figured you out yet? That’s surprising, but you know better than anyone that our Senku is no idiot. He’ll find out soon enough. And what do you plan to do when he confronts you?”

“He won’t. I’ll cover it up so he has no need to get suspicious and investigate me.”

Gen shrugged his shoulders and an airy smile formed on his face yet again. “I’m sure you already figured out that to cure the hanahaki disease, your beloved needs to return your feelings. But this is Senku we’re talking about, so that seems highly unlikely.”

He even knew that Senku was the person you fell for. How obvious were you? Then again, Gen is a mentalist.

“There is…another way, but it’s impossible in this stone world. You could get surgery to remove the flowers from your lungs, but that’d mean losing the feelings you have for Senku. Even if you were willing to give that up, nobody could help with the operation, certainly not me.”

“So that’s it? I’m out of options?”

Gen’s smile was sour now, and he seemed to be reflecting on something, but his train of thought was interrupted when you started coughing again, not being quick enough to cover your mouth and doubling over to throw up more yellow tulip flower petals onto the grass. Gen stared in horror. You stared in horror.

“I don’t want you to worry about me, Gen. I’ll…I’ll figure something out. I refuse to die. I can’t die. I just can’t leave my friends with that grief and guilt. Plus, they’re busy preparing for the battle against the Tsukasa Empire. I can’t distract them from our goal. I feel horrible putting this on you but please don’t tell anyone.”

Gen stared at you, very obviously having some internal conflict in his head. Eventually he sighed again and his shoulders sagged. “Don’t die, dear Y/N, or else I’ll feel partly responsible.”

Nothing was working.

You were convinced you had tried every healing method you could possibly think of. In the summer, you would take hot spring baths. In the winter, you wore layers. You forced yourself to eat and drink plenty (even though the disease gave you a lack of appetite), you trained on the daily (despite being tired), and you kept yourself busy. The coughing would seize for a little while though, and you found that better than being hunched over 24/7.

It had become increasingly more difficult to randomly leave and throw up flower petals though. Someone else will soon figure it out, but you couldn’t predict if that would be before or after the disease had claimed your life.

Gen helped cover for you and you appreciated it beyond belief, but soon enough, it was time for him to take on his task of delivering the cellphone to Taiju and Yuzuriha.

“Don’t start throwing up flowers while I’m gone, dear Y/N.” You also appreciated his lightheartedness throughout the whole thing. It was a bit easier to manage with the mentalist being able to cheer you up just a slight bit.

You were thankful that you and the others had Homura to focus on instead of just sitting and waiting around for the phone to be delivered the entire time, but you were also getting increasingly weaker. You definitely weren’t a prominent fighter however, so nobody was really looking to you for much assistance in the strength department. In lots of ways, things could've been worse.

Senku could’ve found out a lot faster, for example. But he didn’t, and you’ve been able to remain by his side.

In all honesty, you were scared when you first found out you had Hanahaki disease. When you coughed up that first flower petal, a million thoughts rushed into your head and you felt faint, both possibly from your coughing fit and your stress.

You were the only one to have ever endured the Hanahaki disease. Nobody else had ever experienced it, and you didn’t even believe it was real! So when you continued throwing up petals, you were sent spiralling. You were overthinking everything you knew, and while it may have been dramatic, you felt lost and scared. It made you think about your relationship with Senku as well. You feel guilty for accidentally putting this weight on him without his knowledge, for putting this weight on the entirety of Ishigami Village.

The sickness seemed to subside while working alongside Senku and Gen in convincing members of the Tsukasa Empire to join over to the Kingdom of Science, at least for a little while. You were close with Senku, and you didn’t need to grieve over anything for a little while. You could just focus on the present. You could simply be content with the little nods of affirmation he'd give you accompanied with a small smile.

If this was how you were to meet your end, you’ll be happy just to have known this incredible man.

The rest seemed like a blur after getting Ukyo to join Senku. The Kingdom of Science was starting to prepare its infiltration of the miracle cave after Chrome had returned safe from his capture, and the battle was a haze. There were many close calls, many times you thought you wouldn’t be able to uphold the agreement that no blood would be shed. You were scared you were going to lose the people you love.

But in the end, you reigned victorious. Tsukasa had teamed with Senku to take down Hyoga, and the rest of you had worked to capture Homura. As you were all making your way back to your base, you stopped to stare at the sun approaching the horizon.

“It’s hard to believe but finally...it’s over.”

A laugh you were all too familiar with. You turned around to see Senku climbing up to join you at your side. “Are you making a joke or what? That’s backwards. Right now, we’re finally getting started. We got all these people to work together with us, to build a real kingdom of science.”

You looked over at him in all his glory as the rising sun basked you both in its glow. Another chapter was beginning, another with Senku in it, another promised to be just as exciting and eventful as the last. Your heart soared.

Senku is upset. Obviously he’s upset, he has to kill his dying friend. You had seen the more colder and distant parts of Senku before, but you had never imagined him being so emotional, so delicate. Your heart had wings just a while ago, and now it was as if you had flown too close to the sun, getting your hopes up that everything would work itself out.

It was around this time that everyone was coming together that you were entering the final stages of your sickness. Flowers were blooming in your lungs, and it was now permanently difficult to breathe. It became near impossible to disguise your wheeze and sharp inhales, not being able to explain to the people who love and care for you that you were slowly dying.

You knew you didn’t have much time left, and you were getting panicked. You didn’t have any time to think of other possible cures, and you didn’t have the strength to pursue any projects. Were you seriously doomed?

“Maybe not, dear Y/N.” Gen. What did he mean by that? “I just so happened to find some leftover panacea while clearing out the lab,” and at that, your eyes widened as Gen held up a leaf with the drug. Of course. The cure all sulfa drug. How did you not think of this sooner?

“The thing is, I have no idea if this’ll work. I’ve never heard of a drug being able to cure hanahaki. Hell, it may even kill you immediately! But, if it’s meant to be a cure-all drug, why not give it a try?”

There was no time to waste. Gen immediately gave you the medicine to take, and you two waited anxiously to see what happened. A minute passed. Two. Five. Okay, so you weren’t dead, that was a good sign.

Hours passed, and you didnt cough up a single flower or petal. By the end of the day, you had nothing to stuff your pockets with. You had never hugged anyone harder in your life.

By morning the next day however, Gen found you in your tent limp and unmoving. His eyes widened at the scene in front of him and tears formed, rushing off to call for help and being forced to tell everyone about your condition. Tulips. Yellow tulips drenched in blood, some sticking to your face and arm, some on the ground.

The drug had gotten rid of your symptoms for a little while, but didn’t actually cure you. Neither you nor Gen were medical professionals in the slightest and had no idea how to go about using the antibiotic on the hanahaki disease. Maybe if you took it regularly, you would've lived. Maybe if you had taken it earlier. Maybe.

The feeling was bittersweet. In your last moments, you could see your life flash before your eyes, and you internally laughed at the cliché. You saw yourself grow up in the village, befriending Kohaku, Chrome, Ruri, Kaseki and Suika. You saw yourself hunched over Senku to watch him experiment with something, a smile on his face and your eyes wide with awe. You saw many memories with Senku, some of them being times where you felt like you had a chance. Times when you caught Senku staring at you, rare times where Senku showed a bit more vulnerability and talked more openly about his past. He grew just like you did, and you did it together.

You hoped he would forgive you. You hoped everyone would, because in the end, you didn’t regret loving Senku Ishigami. Hopefully in the next life, you were able to start that next chapter with him.

#senku ishigami #dr stone oneshot #dr stone x reader #dr stone headcanons #dr stone hcs #dr stone #gen asagiri #dr stone fanfiction #senku x reader #dcst senku #senku x y/n #senku x you #senku headcanons #senku ishigami x reader #senku ishigami oneshot #senku ishigami headcanons #gen asagiri x reader #gen asagiri oneshot

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inukag-archive · 1 year

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Do you know of any beauty and the beast-esque inukag fics? I’ve read the beauty of the beast by ashmish111 on ao3 and I’m looking for similar fairytale type fics 💖

Hi anon! We found a handful Beauty and the Beast-esque InuKag fics for you, ranging from direct adaptations to a few that just have vaguely similar vibes. Also, for anyone who may not know of the story you mentioned in your ask, we’ve included it in the list below. Happy reading! 💕

Beauty of the Beast by @mrfeenysmustache (T)

She’s an outcast, and so is he. Thrown together under unusual circumstances, two lonely souls find a little common ground, and a little acceptance where they never expected. Beauty and the Beast AU... with a twist!

Someone to Love Me by Hikari Dreams (T)

AU. Remake of Beauty and the Beast. Kagome is a young villager who is named prisoner inside the forgotten castle in the Forest of Inuyasha. Inuyasha and his sevents are under a cures and Kaogme must break it. But will she fail or prevail?

Beauty and the Hanyou by Mishelledor23 (M)

Inspired by Beauty and the Beast, but Inuyasha style! The terrible half-demon prince Inuyasha is under a fifty-year old curse that keeps him trapped inside his castle. Can Kagome, the reluctant miko-in-training become his friend? Maybe even his love? InuXKag, MirXSan. Lemons and language in later chapters!

684 Concord Rd by @shnuggletea (T)

Kagome needs money for a lot of things; school, her family, medical bills, as well as a debt her father left behind. So when a job comes along with a big paycheck that fits her schedule, she doesn't hesitate. That is, until the house she's supposed to clean turns out to be occupied by an angry beast.

Beauty and the Hanyou by BlueMoon Goddess (T)

Based on Disney's Beauty and the Beast. Can Kagome teach Inuyasha how to love and can Inuyasha learn to love before the last petal falls? Or will he be doomed to reamin a hanyou for all eternity?

Beauty and the Beast by Inuismyhomeboi (T)

She is the daughter of a deceased Inventor, who finds solace in her books. He is a cursed Prince who needs to find love before the last petal falls. Sound familiar? It should. Its beauty and the beast done Inuyasha style.

Beauty and the Beast Inuyasha Style! by Chris-San (T)

Inuyasha is a prince, cursed to live a life of solitude in the body of a demon, unless he can learn to love.

The Tale of the Magic Prince by Lord Wolfe (M)

The tale of the Magic Prince, the one folk tale her father never finished before he died. Kagome set out to a distant land to find the origin of the fairy tale. She never expected the story to turn out to be true and that the fabled Prince was actually a magically empowered tyrant that uses transfiguration to rule his people. Can she reach his hate filled heart?

The Warlord’s Tribute by @omgitscharlie (E)

With a kingdom built upon the blood of his enemies, Inuyasha is the leader of the Taisho Clan. A vicious warlord who scours the lands for power and has made a name for himself amongst his rivals. Even as a hanyou, he is revered and looked upon as a king amongst the neighboring villages. Elders near and far come to give their offerings, one of them bringing a young woman with a fiery spirit. Another beauty to add to his ever-growing harem of women. Little does he know, she is more than he bargained for.

Only the Right Medicine by @dawnrider (M)

Modern AU: Kagome is new to the small town where humans and youkai live in relative peace. But there is a disruption of that peace in the late daiyoukai's hanyou son who is at risk of being overcome. Maybe the new addition to town is exactly what he needs...

#inukag archive #inukag fanfic #beauty and the beast #fairytale adaptations

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sunlightwoo · 2 years

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blooming days

✁ pairing: soulmate!wooyoung x g.n reader

✁ genre: h…hana….hanahaki au… childhood friends to almost lovers trope, angst, slight fluff, sad ending warnings: mentions of death, descriptions of blood but it’s not explicitly mentioned, reader throws/coughs up a lot of petals | rated: 16+

✁ wc: 2027

✁ plot: if you could be a flower, you wouldn’t be any but rather the thorns that are often adorned on the stems of beautiful scarlet roses. the thorn could symbolize anything, but for you, it’s a constant reminder of the unlucky bond that you have with your soulmate; especially when you can do nothing but cough out petals in secret.

✁ a/n: hello welcome to the halfway point of the desire [rewritten] collection!! this specific piece is actually my part in @th84u‘s a sad smile collab i’m technically late on (i’m so sorry) however i hope you guys enjoyed this piece, even though it’s not a happy ending!! i hope to see you guys on the next part, and please be sure to check out the other authors participating in this collab also!!!

desire [rewritten] navi | ateez masterlist | main navi

“Y/N, hurry up! You’re gonna be late to your own graduation!”

The sound of your best friend’s voice rings out throughout the air as you are rushing out of your room with your cap barely hanging on at the ends of your fingertips. There was a lot of clamor going on in the small living room of your shared apartment, but you knew that it was because of the events that were going on today as you were all struggling to make sure that you would get to your college graduation on time.

After years of struggling together in college, and even through the different phases that you each went through before that, you and your best friend, Wooyoung were finally getting your diplomas and getting away from the hellhole that would mark a new chapter in your lives.

“I’m coming! Am I carpooling with you or what?” You say while putting on your cap for a moment, making sure that you’d look okay in the moment that you were about to head towards the large football field, but he gives you a look before shaking his head in response.

“I’m taking Gaeul with me, but I know Mingi still has room in his car. Besides, we’ll still meet up to take pictures and get food after to celebrate, right?” He offers, making you nod in response as you grin at the very thought of finally being at the finish line of your academic career.

“Of course! We always make sure to celebrate together!”

However, the next couple hours were adamant on proving you wrong as you must’ve lost him in the crowd. In the midst of cheering and celebrating with your mutual best friends such as San, Mingi, Yunho and Yeosang, you couldn’t find the dark haired male that you were dying to celebrate this big milestone in your life with. It wasn’t until your eyes scan across the field to see him embracing his girlfriend in his arms that makes your heart sink for a moment as you watch him spin her around before kissing her with all the love in him.

There’s a bitter feeling that settles in your heart that you wished that maybe he had gone to you first since the two of you had always talked about this moment for as long as you could remember. All the memories building up to this moment such as sharing meals late at night, talking about the professors you had hated and the courses that you were so terribly suffering in; you felt some strange feeling in your heart as you could feel something heavy in your lungs.

A petal falls from the sky as it lands onto the palm of your hand gently and you look to see that it was a petal of a white lily. Little did you know what that had meant for you, for the rest of your life.

You’ve always heard about the tales of the hanahaki disease.

It was one in which you had always felt sadness, pain for those that had suffered because of this rare disease, that just so happened to be a soulmate bond. There were stories that you have heard where the only reason that you would have hanahaki is because your soulmate had not reciprocated the bond’s powers. You think that it could never be you in the chances that this happens, because you couldn’t be bothered to be in love with someone knowing the slim possibilities of them being your soulmate.

You think that it was absurd even, that a soulmate could have that much power over someone’s well being that it could cause for them to have some sort of flower rooting inside of their hearts. However, you were sadly a victim to the hanahaki disease, as sad as it may seem, and the younger version of you would’ve been ecstatic at the fact that you had finally found your soulmate.

You and Wooyoung had always been you and Wooyoung, up until the point that he had gotten together with his now girlfriend in your third year of college. You weren’t sure when these feelings had existed in the first place, when you had always been fond of the said boy platonically.

Was it when he had taken you home from a bad date that made your heart flutter, because it was so late in the night? Was it maybe during that time when you were suffering from a horrible sickness that he somehow was immune to, nursing you back to health when you were bed ridden for over a week? Or was it him always finding a way to take care of you when you were at the lowest points in life, because he knew the right things to say and do so that the smile would somehow still appear on your face at the end of the day.

Whatever it was, you cursed yourself for it as you had slowly been suffering for the past four years of the hanahaki disease.

You had found out that the night of your graduation was the first day that the roots were blossoming in your lungs. Every so often, you would cough up a petal or two of white lilies, it wasn’t until recently that the disease had gotten worse and that you could only take deep breaths in order to live properly. The only person that has ever known about this disease was San, however even with his encouragement these past few years had led to you never doing it, because now you were both sitting in the aisles of a wedding ceremony, watching the said individual get married.

It seemed so torturous, as you were struggling to hold down the white lilies that were almost at full blossom, and you knew that at any given moment, you could die because you never treated the hanahaki.

You watch painfully as the others have given your speech, a sad smile on your lips and you slightly turn to tug on San’s sleeve to point over towards where the bathroom was. He frowns at your state, seeing as though all the colors that were previously on your face were gone and he motions for you to wait for a moment, not realizing that it was your turn to finally give your speech to the happy couple.

“Here Y/N.” Yunho smiles softly, handing you the microphone gently as you take it into your hands. For a moment, you just stared at everyone who was staring back at you in the reception, until your eyes landed on Wooyoung’s calming ones.

You pitied your own heart and the universe for this.

“To the happy couple, I can only wish you the best from here on out. I’ve known you both since our college days, and I couldn’t even imagine how happy the two of you make each other,” You say breathlessly, feeling your own tears pool at the corners of your eyes but you looked at the ceiling to push them away, knowing that you could only blame yourself for never telling him.

“I hope that Wooyoung treats you with all the love that the world has to offer, Gaeul. He’s the most loving, hardworking, but also amazing person in the world, and I’m even honored to call him my other half. I hope your marriage lives as long as the night stars in the sky.”

You give the microphone back to Yunho and turn to leave the reception, heading for the gardens that were just outside of the glass windows. The moment that the night breeze hits your skin, so do the tears that you had been struggling to keep in as you start to cough up more white lily petals into your hands the moment that you found a bench to sit on. Ironically, you were surrounded by orchids and other arrangements of flowers, making you wonder if this was the universe’s cruel way of joking with you.

You had just watched your best friend, and your soulmate, get married to someone else that wasn’t you. It was getting harder to breathe as there were stained lilies in your hands, but you couldn’t see anything else as your tears blurred your vision, and apparently your hearing too, because you didn’t even hear the footsteps that were slowly approaching your shaking figure.

“Y/N…”

You instantly freeze before turning to see Wooyoung standing underneath the moonlight, noticing how he was frozen in his place as well just seconds until he approaches you slowly. His eyes trail down to the lily petals that were in your hands and it doesn’t take long for him to connect the dots, making him wonder how long you had kept this a secret from him.

“I’ve loved you for five years, Wooyoung; five years that I’ve been in love with you from afar, and there wasn’t anything that I could do to prevent this without the factor that I would forget who you are if I got them removed.” You say, releasing the petals onto the ground in front of you and you couldn’t stop the tears that were streaming down your face.

Wooyoung felt like he was slapped in the face as he took a seat on the bench beside you before taking your hands into his warm ones, but you removed them almost immediately, missing the pang of hurt that was obvious on his face. You couldn’t be like this with him, on today of all days, because he was now married, and there wasn’t anything you could do, except blame yourself for not telling him sooner.

“Sometimes, I think about what we could be and what would’ve happened if we turned back time… Like what if I had told you that we were actually soulmates-”

“Y/N, stop.”

His voice quivers for a moment and you turn your head for the first time tonight to look at him as you notice the tears that were pooling in his eyes. Had you been selfish keeping this information from him, knowing that the two of you were soulmates the whole time? Probably, but right now you had nothing else to lose as you knew that there was no other cure for you, because as you looked at the boy in front of you, you could feel the flowers slowly starting to burn in your chest, but not for the reason that you had liked.

“Why… Why couldn’t you just tell me back when you knew?” He asks you in disbelief, standing up to look at you and you shrug for a moment as you thought about it as well, but you knew what the answer was anyways deep down.

“Because I knew that you would never look at me then, the same way that you look at her now,” You bitterly smile, letting out a short laugh before standing up from the bench as if the hanahaki had never existed, “Wooyoung, you’re married now… I’ll be okay, I promise.”

There��s another figure that enters the scenery unfolding in front of you, and you think that maybe the reason he had stuck by you was the same reason that you had been staying by Wooyoung the entire time. Maybe the feeling of your chest feeling lighter from the moment that you confessed to him about the truth was the universe’s second chance for you. You realized in this moment that maybe it was okay that you were now broken soulmates, because you didn’t lose the love that you had for him, nor did you forget about the memories that you two had.

They’d just have to be filled with another soulmate that the universe will give to you, and you wonder if it was the male that had been watching you the whole time from afar; hoping that you don’t die on him the same way that he might on you if you didn’t realize it sooner.

“Maybe we weren’t meant to be soulmates, but deep down, I’ll still love you. Just not in the way that we might want it to be overall in the end.”

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#ateezlovenet #8makes1teamnet #ficscafe #kvanity #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez oneshots #ateez x reader #ateez #jung wooyoung #wooyoung imagines #wooyoung scenarios #wooyoung fluff #wooyoung angst #wooyoung x reader #desire [rewritten]

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