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#hanahaki disease au
intriq · 7 months
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Daffodil
Part of my Hanahaki series
Character: Jason Todd
Theme: Angst
Daffodil: regard, unequalled love
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You've known Jason for awhile. You've been friends for a few years at this point.
You've seen him change and grow. Grieved him when he died, welcomed him back when he returned. Supported him when he needed it, because truthfully? He did need it. Even if he was a stubborn asshole about it.
But you also loved him throughout those years. Through all those changes.
You loved him when he died, loved him when you visited his headstone, and you loved him even when he came back. You just always did.
But you also knew he never loved you back. He was never quite capable of seeing of just how head over heels you were for him, even though his family could. To him, you were always just his "best friend".
You thought you could be happy like that, you truly did. You thought you could be content loving him from the sidelines, even if it was suffocating knowing he would never love you back. You thought you'd be okay.
Until you coughed up those flower petals.
You remember the exact day you first discovered you had Hanahaki Disease, too.
It'd been a cloudless night, the first one in a few days. Maybe weeks. Either way, for once Gotham was not shrouded by storm clouds. It was at most, calm. Peaceful. But perhaps that in of itself should have been an omen.
Because Gotham was never peaceful.
You don't remember exactly what was said that night, but you just remember how you'd started coughing the moment Jason was distracted. Had you two been on a stakeout that night? You were almost sure that you were.
You remember so vividly clutching those flower petals in your hands, staring at them before crushing them in your palm, letting them drift in the wind when Jason asks you if you were alright.
And now here you were, months later. Over time Jason would give you suspicious looks when you'd tried to hide your coughing fits, would always double check if you were really okay. But you always said you were.
Until today.
You and Jason are doing the last of your stakeout mission, gathering the last tiniest bits of intel to feed to the others so that way they could take out this newly fledged gang from right under their nose. It's cold, but that's fine. Gotham is always cold, especially in the autumn months.
"How much longer are we supposed to be out here for?"
You pause to think for a minute as your eyes scan the outside of the warehouse the gang had turned into their main base of operations. Taking in every detail, hoping it’d help piece together some of their behavior.
“Not that much longe—“ Your words are cut off by that feeling in your throat, hand flying up reflexively as you scramble to remove your mask just in time to violently begin coughing into the palm of your hand.
You hunch into yourself as you cough, your free hand clutching your mask desperately so you could put it back on at a moments notice. Next to you, Jason is concerned. Behind the red helmet he wears his face is a mixture of concern.
It takes awhile for you to stop coughing. The raw creeping pain that fills your throat and makes your lungs burn is something you’ve grown used to.
You pull your hand away when you feel that same familiar feeling of blood in your hands, wet and hot as it pairs with your spit and the flowers. You try to hide it from Jason, you really do. You try to clench your fist and let it drop to your side.
But Jason is faster. He’s got your hand snagged by the wrist the moment it drops. And he pries your hand open while he remains quiet. And when he sees the flowers and blood in your hands he knows he should’ve done so sooner.
You’d been hiding behind the coughing fits for awhile. Pulling excuses out of the air for each one. Making up reasons for your dwindling strength and stamina, for how your skin got progressively more sickly and pale.
Excuses each and every time that Jason now regrets not looking deeper into.
“Fucking Hanahaki Disease? Seriously?” Jason doesn’t hesitate to say your name in that same tone. He’s angry, but he’s worried. An angry kind of concerned and worried, because for months you’ve probably been suffering alone. And to him, he doesn’t want his best friend to suffer alone. He’s had to do that already, he knows it’s shitty.
“Why didn’t you tell me? Who is it?”
“It’s not important, Red. Doesn’t matter—“
Jason stops you, the grip on your wrist tightening for a moment as he seems to be trying at least a little bit to regulate his emotions.
“Screw that. It’s Jason your talking to right now, not Red Hood.”
“Jason—“
“No! It does fucking matter, okay? Your.. Fuck, you’re my friend, okay? I care about what’s happening to you.”
Your heart aches at the word friend, makes the suffocating feeling in your throat grow tighter. Friend. Of course. That was all you’d ever be to him.
“It’s just a little one sided love, Jason.”
“Little? You call coughing up blood and flowers little? Your dying!”
Your face scrunches up as you begin sputtering again, coughing as more specks of blood fly past your lips.
“If it’s one sided, you need to get the surgery. It’s the only option.”
Immediately your shaking your head, trying to refuse, but Jason’s already picking you up. He’s already died once, brought back by chance because of the Lazarus Pit. He’s not gonna have you die, because you matter to him.
He ignores your protesting pleas as you eventually fall unconscious from the lack of air you are able to get into your lungs because of the flowers growing there.
And Jason brings you to Gotham General.
But when you awaken from that lifesaving surgery, preventing you from dying on the operating table as you were seconds from death, Jason noticed your different with him.
He can see just how different you look at him. You aren’t the same you that he remembers growing up with. The look in your eyes is different, as is your smile.
You aren’t quite as warm, not quite that same ball of sunshine with him as you used to be. At first he thinks it’s because your mad at him for bringing you to the hospital against your wishes, but..
Even when months pass and you still don’t get that same energy you used to back is when he understands. It hits him when your suddenly looking at someone else the way you used to look at him and it hits him hard, like a smack to the face.
Oh. He thinks. He was the one you loved.
And that regret hits Jason hard, especially when he coughs up flower petals of his own.
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haykawas · 6 months
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✩•̩̩͙*˚ THORNS– GETO SUGURU.
summary : you knew you were doomed since he first smiled at you.
word count : 1.6K tags : gn!reader, hanahaki disease!au, mentions of blood, angst. just... angst. fluff if you squint.
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You knew you were doomed since he first smiled at you.
You had met at a little coffee shop, the kind of place where the barista knew your order by heart. You’d discovered this little haven of peace when you were in college, and since then, it had been the only constant in your life.
And then he had shown up, turning everything upside down and changing your whole world for the worse and for the better.
Suguru was the embodiment of enigma and allure, he had been since you first laid eyes on him, like a riddle you longed to solve. That day, he came and asked if he could sit across from you as there was no other seat available, and you agreed with a smile, your heart fluttering as he grinned in return. 
Going back, you could have sworn the Café had been pretty calm, that day.
The first petal slipped from your lips one evening when you arranged to meet at a cozy jazz bar in town that he particularly liked. Before you met him, you had never been much for jazz yourself, but you could now give an hour-long lecture on the spot if someone asked you to. Your eyes were on him as he talked about a book he had recently read with passion. You had always liked the way he delved into his interests, the way his eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, and the way he furrowed his brows when he playfully poked fun at the outlandish theories he had heard a few days prior, and formulated his own to emphasize the absurdity of some of them – and you’d never tell him, but his were often even more absurd than the ones he liked to poke fun at. The conversation went effortlessly, but as he reached across the table, leaning in close enough to remove a stray eyelash that had caught on your cheek, you felt it catch in your throat, just begging to crawl out and make itself known.
You swallowed it without a second thought, a smile gracing your lips as he made a joke you didn’t hear, his eyes locked onto yours, a warm, gentle light in their chocolate depths. You remembered how he’d noticed your mind had been somewhere else like it often was when you were with him, and he’d laughed, the noise being music to your ears.
He’d always loved jazz more than any other genre. As for yourself, you’d always found solace in the melodious timbre of his voice, a preference that held much more significance in your heart than any other music.
You dug your fingernails into your palms to direct the pain elsewhere, a soft laugh leaving your lips as he started telling you about the time his white-haired friend had almost burned his apartment down.
At first, it had been a mere tickle in the back of your throat, a subtle reminder of the love that could never be. You would always brush it off, finding all kinds of excuses as Suguru looked at you with worried eyes, and asked you if you were okay. However, as the days turned into weeks and months, the illness began to flourish within you. What had begun with you occasionally coughing up a petal or two when you thought he wasn’t looking became full-blown crises that even made it difficult for you to breathe.
By this time, you had already figured out what was causing your suffering.
Hanahaki. Of course.
He could never have loved you.
You thought that deep down, you had always known that you loved him, from the moment he’d asked if he could sit with you, when the café had definitely been practically empty.
It’d just taken a while for your mind to realize it, when your heart had always known. Then again, you didn’t want to change anything about your relationship, because you were content with what you had. So what if he sometimes met with other people, what if he spent the night with them, doted on them and asked you for advice? In the end, he always came back to you.
You didn’t need him to love you back, to cherish you like you cherished him, to see you and only you, to be the only person he’d want to touch and taste and worship– 
Until you did.
And yet, you could never tell him, burden him with your truth. He was too beautiful to have worry marring his delicate features, too precious to bear what was your pain and only yours. He had a soft heart, and you knew that if he ever learned of your predicament, he would never forgive himself, knowing he could have done something, anything, to save you.
But you couldn’t be saved, you couldn’t be helped. That love was too rooted in your heart to ever be unearthed. And deep down, you knew you didn’t want it to be. He had become a part of you and to give him up would also mean giving up a piece of your heart.
Somewhere along the way, you’d learned to live with it, knowing exactly when you’d need to excuse yourself to the bathroom to spit out what had first been petals, then had developed into whole flowers, and then into stems. Eventually, the thorns began to grow, causing you to start coughing out blood, requiring you to always have tissues at hand in case Suguru would ask questions. He was too clever not to notice, so you eventually started to avoid him on the days you felt worse than usual, the ones that would have you glued to bed, panting.
It was Shoko who had first figured out what you were going through, and how could she not? Your friend was a doctor, a doctor who had immediately called you stupid for not consulting her on the matter. She’d urged you to tell him, practically begging for you to come forward and stop this madness.
In hindsight, maybe she had been right. Perhaps you should have told him everything, to spare yourself from this situation. You closed your eyes in regret. 
What was supposed to be a simple movie night with Suguru, like you had every Friday, had just taken a completely different turn. Despite the pain you felt, you couldn’t help but blame yourself for what you were about to put him through. You’d been sitting on his couch as you two watched one of your favorite movies, because it had been your turn to pick, and he must have been starting to feel a bit tired, because he suddenly let out a small yawn, before gently resting his head on your shoulder. Feeling the weight on you, you’d turned your head and had found him already looking at you, a cheeky smile on his lips, before redirecting his gaze back to the movie.
It had been innocent on his end, but you were already too far gone. Your heart hadn’t been able to handle it, and you had to come up with an excuse to rush to the bathroom as soon as you felt it. This excruciating pain shooting through you, a pain so strong and sharp you didn’t even have time to close the door behind you before you’d collapsed on the cold floor of his bathroom. 
Pain clawed at your heart as you felt the thorns bore into your insides, your face contorting in hurt. Your breathing was frantic, your eyes glazed over and filled with unshed tears as you desperately gasped for air.
One minute you were lying on the ground alone, and the next you heard him rushing to you, cursing as he discovered you lying in a sea of petals in agony.
You tried to speak, but your voice came out hoarse and strained, the thorns piercing your throat.
“Don’t speak, you’re only going to hurt yourself more.” He murmured softly as he cradled you in his lap, one hand holding the back of your head as his eyes searched yours.
“How… Why didn’t you tell me you were hurting so badly?” His voice broke as he tried to comprehend the situation, the shock of seeing your body almost passed out on his floor mixed with the realization you’d been hiding your suffering from him for months. He’d immediately figured it out when his gaze had fallen on the bloody petals that now covered his bathroom. “I could have helped. I could have saved you.”
“Now you know that’s not true, I’m stubborn and you know that.” You laughed, your chest tightening and heaving painfully. You smiled sadly, placing a hand on Suguru’s cheek to cradle his face. In a heartbeat, he covered it with his own, intertwining your fingers and pressing your joined hands to his cheek.
“Love, Suguru, is a disease with no cure. I couldn’t save myself from it any more than you could have.” You managed a weak smile, and he watched in despair as the light slowly disappeared from your eyes, your hand suddenly laying limp and cold on his cheek.
He felt a violent pang in his chest.
He’d been too late to save you.
His slender hands tenderly rested on your cheek, while his fingers frantically swiped at your lips to wipe away the blood you’d coughed. Suguru laughed in disbelief, eyes crazed as his mind didn’t seem to process you weren’t just playing a trick on him, fooling him into believing you were no longer there when you had just been making fun of a stupid romcom character together.
When did it all go wrong? Why hadn't he noticed the spiral you'd lost yourself into, when all of this could have been resolved with just a few, simple words?
The man exhaled a shaky breath, his eyes still wide with shock. The pain in his chest grew unbearable, as if a thousand needles had suddenly pierced his heart, and he gasped, clutching his chest. His eyes shut tight as he started coughing uncontrollably, the pain blinding him momentarily.
When Suguru finally opened his eyes, they fell on a single delicate petal, painted crimson.
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AN : sorry . in my defense hanahaki is one of my absolute favorite tropes and i'm a sucker for unrequited love (even if it isn't the case here). so here we have flowers as a metaphor of unprofessed love, the petals representing the words you want to say but won't. i got inspired by one post i saw about hanahaki not being triggered by unrequieted love but instead by trapping your feelings inside, as "love needs growth". (also, even though i don't take requests you can always send me some suggestions!! so i can make bullet point fics, drabbles or even bigger works if i'm inspired! so yea just leaving this here since i don't have anywhere else to say it yet)
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kateaxelart · 5 months
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First time drawing Amy and it was for angst…
Amy’s flower - Black Dahlia
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astarlightsend · 11 months
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🍎Apple Blossom AU💔
[[Post Updated!]]
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So my idea so far for this Hanahaki Disease au is that Wally meets a charming man and is smitten over this man’s charming personality!
Except, the charming man was just being friendly towards Wally as he only sees Wally as a friend. Which slowly becomes more obvious to Wally and that slowly rips away any hopes that Wally held onto, that maybe one day he’ll be able to be more then just friends with Prince Charming.
And Yee :] Wally’s condition starts to worsen, bit after bit; which Charmer starts to notice (after Barnaby and Juile start to show signs of distress) and that’s when he takes action to help Wally with whatever he’s going through. :D
Anywho! That’s all mi noggin got! :]
🍎 🐛~~
EDIT!!!
Look who made more art of the au! :]
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inkytrashbin · 3 months
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Thank you to this lovely person for making this au and allowing me to draw one of my favorite pieces so far!
(If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have drawn my boy-)
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auideas · 8 months
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Can I use your hanahaki AU???? I promise I'll give you proper credits. I would be grateful if you'll agree.
Of course! Any and all prompts here on AUideas are fair game -- we've posted them with the intent to share and spark new ideas, so asking for permission is unnecessary. What we do ask, though, is that you make sure to credit us with the original concept so others can find us and be equally-excited about starting their own writing.
As a thank you, here's a list of some new and interesting Hanahaki Disease AUs!
Confused about what Hanahaki's is? Here's a link from Fanlore that explains it in more detail, but the TL;DR is that if Character A has an unrequited love / crush on Character B but Character B doesn't feel the same way, Character A's lungs will slowly fill with flowers until the petals expel from their mouth. Needless to say, this is usually deadly...
In a world where Hanahaki's Disease was spreading like wildfire, Character A watched the news as the CDC decreed a ban on social media for the safety of the public -- fans had been developing fatal cases of Hanahaki's Disease for celebrities and influencers who could never possibly love them back.
Character A has been inflicted with Hanahaki's Disease; they just couldn't control themselves, and when they see their crush (Character B) in public, Character A has an attack. When the petals are finally cleared away by passersby and they can draw in a strained breath, they look up from where they'd fallen and see that they're in the arms of Character B who stares down at them with conflicted eyes. Character B can't help but be concerned for Character A's safety, but the type of flower petal Character A is producing has their favorite scent, and it's taking everything they have to not see if Character A's mouth tastes as good as it smells.
As a divergence of the classic Hanahaki's Disease concept, this universe manifests certain flower types based on the quality of the crushee's heart; the worse a person they are, the more pain and torment the afflicted will experience (thorns, thick roots, putrid smells, etc.). This developed as a safety mechanism to help Hanahaki sufferers break off their obsession quickly, but some infatuations are hard to escape.
Characters A and B had been in a long, loving relationship with one another for years at this point, and they never thought they could be happier...that is, until Character B has a coughing attack in their bed. Character A rushes to their side and their eyes go wide when they see a single rose petal fall from their best friend's lips and into their palm. The room tenses.
As a last resort, some Hanahaki's Disease sufferers choose to sign up for a dating service that aims to specifically pair up Hanahaki's sufferers in the hopes they'll fall in love and be cured. Easier said than done, of course...
"Listen, officers, I know it's a CDC emergency, but whenever I fake a Hanahaki's attack in public, I just get so much sympathy from everyone around me. It's like...it's the only time I really feel loved, you know? I was about to fake another attack here on the street when I found them. I don't know if they're still breathing, but I tried to pull out as many petals as I could-- NO, I don't know their name, but LOOK! Their lips are even more blue than the stupid f*ckin' petals on the ground, so HELP THEM!!" AU
It was thought that when someone died with Hanahaki's Disease, they were all but cured since their love died with them. After the first few bodies were buried, though, flowers matching the ones that killed them always sprouted from their graves. Character A's job isn't to clean the stones or stop grave robbers -- their job is to monitor the Hanahaki remnants' growth, make observations, and categorize new flora.
Obsessed botanist and activist Character A purposefully infected themselves with Hanahaki's Disease, but not for sympathy. They sought out the off-chance that their blood, their body, and their very bones were special enough to warrant the growth of a rare, extinct plant that could save the world. And if they couldn't do it, well, then they'd just have to get creative.
Overseas factories were known for their poor conditions, but a whole new meaning was brought to the word when Hanahaki's Disease began spreading like wildfire. For a small paycheck, these factories would house Hanahaki's sufferers and collect their petals to use in perfumes, ceremonies, etc. With the fatality rate of the disease being so high, they have a hard time keeping their stock consistent (without some foul play, that is).
Looking for some more Hanahaki's Disease ideas? We've got you covered! Here, you'll find all our Hanahaki's Disease ideas; if you'd like even more, shoot us an ask.
Hope this helps out, and happy writing!
-- Admin M xx
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doodle-pops · 1 year
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Spare Me Your Sympathy
Fingon x reader
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A/N: A little something because I'm feeling quite angsty towards Fingon.
Warning: Hanahaki disease AU, unrequited love, blood, vomiting, heartbreak, argument, heavy angst
Word: 1.6k
Synopsis: Love was just another curse Fingon was doomed to suffer from the start.
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“They told me that you’re not getting any better…Your Highness,” your quiet voice slipped through the air and danced along to the melody of the lightly pouring rain. Tinkering its way and fighting for a chance to be properly heard by the one person who it meant the most to, the heavens almost felt sorry at that moment. Though, it did not soften the light harshness of the pita-patter of crystal drops against the windowsills and roofs.
White sheets covered the entire bed and him, wrapping them both in colours of innocence and purity to a first-time heartbreak and devastating grief. He wanted to see you again even though he knew that the truth was already known to him, there was hope in his heart. His rough fingers fidgeted with the soft cotton as he looked down at the never–ending blank canvas, waiting for his throat to tighten and spill his heart out. But Fingon could feel it, his heart was clenching and patiently waiting for him to walk that path so it could humiliate him for still believing. He didn’t want to look you in the eye but rather hear your voice as you asked the same question for the hundredth time, but never giving him the words he wanted to hear.
“Are you going to continue to ignore me, Your Highness? I travelled all this way to see you,” this time you leaned forward, challenging the rain, to communicate with him better. A hand from you rested upon his cold right arm and much to your surprise, he didn’t shift away from your touch. Fingon remained still while basking in your warmth. You on the other hand weren’t pleased with the lack of communication and gave him a light shake, “…Fingon, are you hearing me?”
Slithering his eyes to the right, he harshly stared at you with hollow eyes. “Why are you here Y/N? Not that I’m…unhappy, but why have you truly come?” he finally spoke, but with anger in his voice. Deep down, as much as he told himself that you could have been here at the possibility to confess your hidden love for him, he fought to suppress those horrid assumptions. You knew he loved you and your rejection led to his outcome, so why still come around and act guiltless.
Grinning, you knew he was already five steps ahead of you and saw your phoney attempts at being compassionate about your visit. Your grinning turned into a forced smile the longer you sat there thinking about how to break your news to him. Many would consider you a monster for your vile ways and others would understand your choice. Affairs of the heart were never anything simple as the experienced would state; it always left a sour taste in the hearts of the participants. Unfortunately, this wasn’t a sour taste you were leaving but death…of an important figure in your life and of many. You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the sheer atrocities you were about to commit with your simple one-liner.
Pulling yourself away from his personal space, you shuffled to stand beside the window and stare at the heavy downpour. The grey skies gazed at you in fury and disgust and the winds howled in agony. Casting a bleak look at your fingers as you twiddled them agitatedly, you flapped your lips wordlessly, still thinking of the right way to break his heart.
“I’m getting married in a fortnight.”
You were shameful to reveal your face to him, knowing that he wasn’t pleasant. In the distance, there was the faint sound of the bedsheets crumpling under his rage and his breathing stilling. Taking shallow, deep breaths through his mouth, tiny droplets of crimson stained his lips and gown. His eyes were distant as they grew blurry, drowning in his agony and heartbreak and cursing at the heavens for giving him unnecessary anguish. The cotton sheets were balled in his fist and being tugged on harshly as he tossed his head back against the pillows. His lips parted, revealing his bloodstained teeth and tongue, to let out a silent cry. His river of torment broke free and drenched his face— staining his flushed cheeks and creating trenches for the rest to flow. A pool of his torment settled in his clavicles; enough for him to swim in.
Turning his head away from you and hiding it in the shadows, his entire body followed. A few petals were silently coughed up and remained stuck to his palette, but he didn’t care for the discomfort. Fingon’s heart was already in anguish at your final declaration. He would have no choice but to remove the petals and lose his love for you forever. At least he wouldn’t be boiling in disgust every time he witnessed you and your chosen lover together— his misery would diminish. But he didn't want to. He didn't want to lose his love for you forever, not when he loved and cared for you so deeply.
You, on the other hand, had wrapped your arms around your midsection and curled yourself in at the known horror he was experiencing. You loved him, you truly did, but there was confusion stirring deep within that still didn’t answer your biggest question. Why? Why choose another when Fingon was there to willingly give you his heart and soul? There was no other who could replace his kind and enchanting spirit, and yet, how did you manage to reject him and turn to another. Surely, he could simply have the disease removed. That would exterminate his infatuation with me, and I'd be free of worrying over him. We would both be thrilled and comfortable.
“Fingon, I-I’m sor—”
“— drop the act Y/N!” he deeply spat, “you’re not sorry. Y-You keep saying that you c-…care for me but…but you don’t.” He was tired of being gentle and faking his hurt. How many times was he going to smile the anguish off and pretend that the world wasn't burning around him? He'd fallen into a considerable number of pits, gotten up, dusted his scraped knees and bruises and gleamed at the world as if it didn't set him there.
Finally whipping your head around to present him with a harsh glare, you were met with blood stains on his bedding turning your stare into concern. You rushed to his side, calling on his name but were met with an equally hateful glare. Flinching because it was an unusual sight from him, your hands gingerly reached out to meet his but was met with recoil and disgust. His mouth was covered in blood, his gown, his sheets and his hands. You could tell that he was attempting to catch the mixture. I'm sorry, you know I didn’t mean this.
“Fingon, please let me help—"
“— I don't want your help! You've done e-…enough,” he threw you a dangerous side eye as he raged, “I’ve helped you the entire time a-and gave you everything and you still chose him! I should be happy…but not when you played with my heart!”
Crying out, his hands shot out to cup his chest as he felt his heartstrings snapping one by one. The pain grew to become crippling urging him to groan as he doubled over, and face-planted into cotton sheets. This time, you ignored his warnings and reached out to touch him. Climbing onto the bed, you sat beside his thighs and gingerly pushed his shoulders back to rest him against his pillows. Shuffling the soft feathers, you padded them to allow for Fingon to sit upright should he decide to throw up again. I should call for the healers, but then our conversation would be cut short, and he wouldn’t want to see me again. Choosing to be selfish and dangerous at the same time, you stayed to speak with him despite what your attempts would do.
Tucking his raven strands behind his ear, you were able to see his face clearly. The bloodstained his face and gave him a sickeningly demonic appearance. You could see the life being sucked out of him. Even his tear stained face added to the hollowness his fëa radiated.
Refusing to let your eyes meet, he wheezed, “Just go Y/N. You made your choice giving me no other choice in return… Just leave…”
Inhaling, you flashed him a sorrowful frown and teared up, “F-Finno—”  
“— Don’t. Don’t use that name. It’s not for you…anymore,” he warned. “Just leave Y/N, there’s nothing more for you to say to me.”
“ …I just want to help you in any way that I can,” you cried.
Scoffing at your plead, he couldn’t believe how audacious you were willing to be. “What help…could you…possibly give…to me? Haven’t you done enough? I mean, look at me.” He snapped his head around to grin and bare his bloodstained teeth at you, “You did this to me, and now you want to help?”
Nodding your head like you were helplessly in love, you agreed. “Y-Yes!” But his following words were the furthest harshness you ever expected from him. They buried themselves deep within your stomach like a rusty blade that kept on turning and plunging itself farther. You never expected cruelty like this, nor did you expect to be cut as deeply as he was.
Shutting his eyes and casting his head down, there was the distinct echo of his dead laughter resonating in your ear. It chilled your bones and sent shivers up your spine the louder it grew until it became boisterous. Within seconds, two guards knocked and entered the room to inspect the root of the sound. Frozen in their footsteps at the murder scene of the Crown Prince covered in his blood, one motioned to rush to his side while the other rushed to alert the healers but was stopped by the wave of his hand. As they froze in their path, Fingon's head lifted and face your desperate one.
“If you truly wish to help, then start by staying away. You’re not good for me like I assumed you to be. Go live your happily ever after with him in peace while I deal with my own problems,” he stated before rolling away to escape the comfort of the bed. Standing tall and frail, he kept his head high with broken eyes before turning his back to your destroyed face. His heart crumpled further as he spilled his emotions at you. Those weren't the words he wanted to say, but they were his true emotions and they won over his tongue.
“The guards will see you out. Farewell Y/N.”
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Masterlist
Taglist: @spidergirla5 @lilmelily @eunoiaastralwings @noldorinpainter @ranhanabi777 @mysticmoomin @rain-on-my-umbrella @starborne0661 @floraroselaughter @singleteapot @asianbutnotjapanese @justellie17 @justjane @silverose365 @edensrose
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eloise175 · 1 year
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hanahaki disease AU where Callisto doesn’t realize his feelings for Penelope until bloodied flowers come out of his mouth one faithful day
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truly-morgan · 8 months
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[Hanahaki disease AU]
SongXueXiao | Mo Dao Zu Shi Hanahaki AU 17-04-2021
[#songxuexiao hanahaki disease] 
Where xy noticed he was coughing up petals only a couple of months after starting to really live in yi city with aq and xxc. He hates the purity of the white petals, because he knows to who they seem to connect and /no way/ he's in love, he hates him, he hates everyone. 
He figures hiding it from two blind people would be easy and he could pretend he just has a condition which makes him cough heavily sometimes (little does he know that aq did notice it and wonder who it could be at first). It takes months before he accepts that “ok, /maybe/ I fell in love". But he won't change his way just for that, he will still be xy (which anyone but him would notice how he did change, much gentler with both xxc and aq). 
He keeps hiding it and never tells xxc because he knows that whatever he does, the man would never see him that way anyway. Maybe dying by flower isn't so bad, he could die in the worst way than that. 
Then came sl. He isn't sure exactly how he actually managed to convince (or rather blackmail) sl to just not say anything and just live with them. It makes everything harder since sl does see, so he has to hide to cough out all the petals and flowers he manages to repress around him. And the growing is just overall worst now that sl is here because he can /see/ how the two men act around each other despite clearly not being sure what to do. 
He hates sl. Hence why he feels even worst when black petals join the mix, utterly confused as to why there was such a change (he also hates how easily he seems to fall in love with anyone slightly being good and affectionate to him). 
But he knows he cannot tell them, because there is no way either of them would accept him (especially sl). He knows he’s not enough for either of them and it would only make it worst to say it. 
So he hides it even more than before, always able to have his worst coughing moment away from them, since he can feel them coming. 
One day, as he’s supposed to stay down and heal from a rather bad injury, he feels it coming. And it feels like a bad one too. So he gets up to leave, only to have aq stop him, saying he needs to stay down to heal or else it could turn bad. 
He tries to shrug her off, but she keeps on gripping his robe tightly. He finally opens his mouth to argue back, to tell her to piss off. But it doesn’t happen. 
Instead, this is when flowers decide they can escape, sending him into a violent coughing fit, feeling himself choking on all the flowers and petals, his body shaking and hurting from all the coughing. It’s so bad that it attracts both cultivator attention, running out from the room where they were meditating. He can hear xxc asking worriedly what is happening, but all he focuses on is how his gripping at sl sleeve, making his fits worst. 
His lungs are burning and he’s honestly starting to believe he will die like this. 
He can feel sl eyes on him, seeing him kneeling in the mess of black and white flowers on the ground. He barely hears sl murmur what it is, describing the flowers for xxc by habit of describing anything to him (they truly got used to describing everything for xxc). He’s a bit too panicked to really register anything of that. He jumped when he felt hand grabbing his face, a voice trying to gently soothe him. It took a while before the coughing stopped and only then did sl ask what (or rather who) this was all about. The man probably already knew, seriously who did xy know other than them? Or at least, knew /and/ didn’t want to just kill on the spot? 
But xy was stubborn and he didn’t want to tell, because the pain of growing flowers was better than one of rejection, he didn’t want that. 
He only stopped arguing when he felt something hit his forehead, looking up at sl confused, only to look down at what had fallen into the mess of black and white petals and flowers. 
A dark red flower lay on his knee. 
He looked back up confused, sl saying nothing as he simply looked back down at xxc instead, who had reached into his sleeve to take out a flower similar to the one sl had just thrown at him. Xxc gently took his hand, placing the flower securely into it “Had we known about it we would have told you earlier”. 
Xy wanted to cry (and he did, but he would deny it if anyone were to try and remind him of it). He had never believed something like this would happen. He had imagined many outcomes, but never one where xxc (and sl!) would confess to him about also loving him. Only then did he allow himself to confess, still looking like a scared animal ready to flee at any sign of it being a bad joke. 
But this was not the kind of thing xxc would do. So he believed it. 
Of course, it was hard for something to settle down correctly between the three (especially since xxc and sl had already something going on from back in the days), coupled with xy insecurities about it (but again he would deny having any, abandonment and self-worth issue? Who's that). 
But they were getting somewhere and this is all that xy need to know, not coughing up flowers anymore.
(note: This hanahaki AU is more of a “you’ll cough them up until you finally confess or die” than a “the flower stops when the other person starts loving you too”. XY never had that before and he’s stubborn so it got bad, where sl and xxc already knew what it was like and could deal with it better).
Original
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intriq · 7 months
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‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Scabious
‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺
Theme: Angst
Character: Dick Grayson
Word Count: 855
scabious; unfortunate love
‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎┍━━━━━»•» 🌺 «•«━┑
Dick had always been your close friend. Your close best friend. The best friend you fell in love with.
But he didn't feel the same. He loved someone else, not you. He loved Kory. Not you.
Even though he'd rejected you, made it known he only ever thought of you as a friend, you still loved him. Loved him so much that it made your lungs hurt and fill with flowers.
Which is how it lead to now.
Your both on patrol together, like always. Except the only difference being your waning strength as the flowers in your lungs greedily consume you, growing off that suffocating love you've got for Dick Grayson himself.
One particularly nasty cough makes Dick turn to you, worry evident all across that pretty face of his. "You sure you are in any condition to be on patrol tonight?"
"I'm fine, trust me." You reply in return, crumpling those bloody flower petals in the palm of your hand that you'd just coughed up moments before. "Just allergies kickin' my ass."
"C'mon, there's something you aren't telling me here." Dick's gaze locks on your own, even if your gaze is focused on the city below. "What's wrong?"
"It's nothing, Dick. It's just a stupid cough from allergies, I'll be fine in a few weeks." You lie instantly, refusing to meet his gaze.
Dick is almost upset that you insist on lying to him. Did you really think he wouldn't notice the signs? The bloody flower petals that you've been coughing up?
"Do you think I'm an idiot?" Dick's tone is enough to make you flinch. "You think I didn't notice those flowers you've been coughing up?"
"Nothing get's past you, huh?" You weakly laugh, a pained smile on your face before you begin to cough again, more flowers stained a deep red by your blood falling into your waiting palm.
"How long?"
"Few months now, I think."
"There's a way to fix this, right? There has to be. I can't lose you."
Your face scrunches up, contorted into pain. You barely had any time life, really. Very little of it. Sure, it was selfish to keep on loving Dick, even if he was begging for you to keep living. But in order to keep living, you had to get rid of your feelings for him. And you, in all honestly, didn't wish to do so.
Dick doesn't say anything. He can tell from that saddened look on your face that there isn't a whole lot that can be done, a whole lot left to do. That you don't have time to do anything else about it.
So perhaps it's the desperation over the fact he doesn't want to lose his best friend that makes him take your hand and pull you closer and kiss you.
He doesn't quite like you the same way you like him, but it'll do something, right? It has to. Dick doesn't want to accept any other answer for it. He needs it to account for something, to do something.
You pull away almost instantly, violently coughing up more flowers. Because Dick's desperate attempt to fix you, only worsens the problem. And when you can finally breath again after coughing more flowers into your own lap, speckled in crimson, you speak.
"Dick, please. Don't force yourself. Don't force yourself to pretend as if you feel the same way I do. Please."
"I may not love you, but god! You're my family, okay? I care about you. I don't want you to die, especially not because of me!" Dick pleads, holding your hand with both of his at this point. Voice shrill and desperate.
"I know it's selfish but.. God, I can't lose you. You've saved me more times than I can count. I can't lose you. I can't.. Please, please don't leave me alone."
Dick's voice is pitiful, pathetic. Selfish, but pathetic. Weak. And not only that, but he's crying. Sobbing, even. All because you're dying.
"Dick, please. Either way you'd wind up alone and without me. I love you. But not in the way you love me.”
Dick opens his mouth, as if to protest what is you’re saying, but he pauses when you continue to speak.
“You don't love me the way I wish you would. I love you. Not a friends kind of love. You don't love me the way I wish you would."
You're the one who should be crying. You're the one whose dying, after all. But yet here you are, hands reaching up to wipe away Dick's tears instead.
After a bit more back and forth, begging from Dick, your answer stays the same. You refuse to get the surgery, no matter how hard it makes Dick cry over this revelation.
But when weeks pass, and your final day is dawning upon you, Dick is there. Even if he can't stand to watch you die, you deserved someone by your side, at least.
So you die while Dick holds your hand with both of his. You grow cold and limp in his grasp as the final flower in your lungs bloom a beautifully macabre shade of deep, dark crimson.
A flower that blooms as a result of your pitiful and unfortunate affection.
‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎┕━»•» 🌺 «•«━━━━━┙
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starwarspurgefan · 2 months
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Crowscare and inmimb swap au
Misfit mansion horror and human swap au.
Birthday kid by livisart pepper and rascal swap au.
Ann rpg maker.Ann and security swap au.
Arcadekitten Star Wars au.
Arcadekitten dc au
Arcadekitten marvel au
cinder and Alexis swap au.note cinder would still have a romantic relationship with fawntine.
Tad and stello swap au.
Necrotary and ryo swap au.
Ingram and ryo swap au
BBirthday Star Wars or marvel or dc au
Ann rpg maker marvel.Star Wars and dc au.
purrfect apawcalypse Star Wars.marvel.dc au.
Pokemon au
Ghost hunter au
Demon au
Cult au
Collage au
Batim au
Backrooms au
Detective au
Pirate au
Scp au
Beetlejuice au
Fnaf au
Arcadekitten and kay davault and epic book hanahaki disease au
And other
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kateaxelart · 5 months
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I felt like drawing a simple sad brim art <3
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lifeonthemurdersim · 5 months
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Pspspspsps the smut chapter is up-
I'm so sorry it took so long, my mind was elsewhere entirely, I will of course be continuing, just at a slower pace from now on so I don't burn out again 😊
Chapter 1 is here:
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randomlyexisting · 1 year
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Color Me Blue
Aemond Targaryen x Jace Velaryon
Hanahaki Disease Au
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Jace falls in love with a boy whose heart beats slow and lives in a world of black and white. Jace is willing to paint the sky and himself blue so the boy could love him back.
Jace grows flowers in his lungs for Aemond.
———————————————————————
“I love you.” Jace whispers. He hates how his voice shakes. Jace reaches for Aemond’s free hand just in case he tries to make an escape.
Aemond looks at him . Disappointment in his features. Jace bottom lip wobbles. Aemond’s thumb presses down Jace bottom lip for a moment before pulling away. “It will pass.” He whispers back. His eye turn sad when Jace own eyes turn glossy.
It won’t. Jace knows it won’t.
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Inspired : Blue by Troye Sivan .
I realized I haven’t done one happy moodboard. Did you know blue roses symbolizes for unrequited love? That what Google said lol.
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baatarthefirst · 7 months
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Hanahaki au for Janaya
It'd been a rather...untrusting way to keep peace between their once warring nations, but it was effective. Each nation sent their best warriors to the apposing nation, they would protect the royal family with their lives, and end the royal family if they showed any sign of treachery. Their ancestors agreed that they would make peace or die, but on nothing else.
Janai grew up around humans in their grey ugly armor, some she loathed, some she liked. They were were like elves in that, but at least with elves she loathed, there wasn't always the knowledge that they were her jailers. She was born with a knife to her throat,
'The guards who protect your life will end it as well, never forget this.'
To be fair, the Katolian royals had the same lot in life. Each nation cheated a little, marrying their strong warriors whenever they could to avoid losing them. Janai's father had been one such warrior, and King Harrow's wife was one as well. That is how Janai ended up in her current predicament.
They'd sent the new princess's little sister to replace Janai's aging bodyguard, and it hadn't taken long for Janai to grow fond of her. Amaya was amazing, strong, fierce, clever, loyal, amusing...her positive traits would take all day for the Golden Knight to list. They became friends, spending more time together than necessary, learning from and leaning on each other; fighting together and depending on each other.
They had tea nearly every night, and tonight, Janai returned to her room and started coughing. It was no surprise to her when she felt something solid come up her throat. She could even guess what type it was;
a crimson orchid: love, respect, desire. A flower representing an elf who found a love with a harmonious mind and heart, their match. And now Janai had officially taken too long to admit it.
She spent all night researching how to stop it. Two options presented themselves, admit her feelings, or have the priests burn it out (along with the feelings themselves) at the sunforge. She found herself lacking the strength to do either.
Janai hid it, and hid it well. She would excuse herself to cough up the orchids, then burn them in her hand. Her daily tasks still done, her nightly tea still observed, though the coughing fit she had after was becoming more tiresome.
A book dropped on her desk, spilling the ink and ruining her work, "I'm deaf, not blind."
"What do you mean?" she got a pointed finger at the book....oh... Amaya had looked up Hanahaki Disease.
"Tell her." She ordered, crossing her arms.
"That's not an option." Even if she did, it wasn't like she would ever have her. She had been content to have Amaya in the way she had her, the disease wasn't being fair.
"You shouldn't live without love, Janai" Amaya signed with a soft look on her face, Janai could feel the flowers growing in her lungs.
"I can't."
"Then why don't you go to the priests?"
"I can't lose her."
"You don't even have her, Janai! Either grow the horns and tell her how you feel or cut her off!" Amaya glared, challenging her. Janai seethed, jumping to her feet so she could glare down at her.
"Don't tell me what to do, bodyguard!"
"Fine, pull rank. I guess I'll have make it easier for you." Janai's mind came up with a very clever response that never left her mouth, it was too occupied. Amaya pulled her down and kissed her. It was everything Janai could hope for...then she pulled away and had the worst coughing fit of her life. Amaya rubbed her back the whole time... which only served to grow more orchids.
She finally pulled away, Amaya wiped away the tears caused by the coughing, "How did you know it was you?"
"Deaf, not blind, Princess." she rolled her eyes, "Just tell me, Janai."
Strange, even knowing Amaya had feelings for her, it was still hard to choak out those three little words, "I love you."
"I love you, too." With Amaya's admission, Janai felt her lungs clear for the first time in weeks. She felt relief, but was not at all relived,
"It doesn't matter, we can't be together."
"No we can't." the human agreed, "Officially. Luckily as your bodyguard, no one will question if I watch over you tonight."
Janai blushed deeper than she ever had before, "...May the sun go down quickly."
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winterzsurprise · 1 year
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Thorned Exhales
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Pairing: Namor of Talokan x Shuri
Summary: The people of Talokan believe in the concept of soulmates. However, even after years of this tradition, nobody has ever seen the result of an unaccepted mate moreso, a fated partner who's another species from you until their King met the Wakandan Princess, Shuri.
Words: 2.4k
Tags: Stubborn Namor, Hanahaki Disease AU, Soulmate AU, Namor flirts with Shuri to change the subject lmao, Blood, Post-Canon.
had a random thought one day and wrote it down. It's not everyone's cup of tea but they fit the scenario better.
The people of Talokan believe in the concept of soulmates. 
After ingesting the luminescent flower their ancestors crushed centuries ago, the remnants of the petals sometimes resonate with another part of it from someone's stomach. And when it does, it forms a soulmate bond.
It activates the moment a Talokanil sees their fated mate for the first time and then they shall go through the typical period of courting, offering their hunts, fetching the shiniest and prettiest conch shell or giving out crystals found in the deep sea.
However, even after years of this tradition spiralling around their country, nobody has ever seen the result of an unaccepted mate moreso, a fated partner who's another species from you.
A violent hacks of coughs echoed in the empty hall as Namor faltered in his step, the burn on his lungs fresh and agonising with every wheeze. 
Everything hurts, from his throat, his chest and even down to his abdomen. Yet even then, he smiled at his cousin who stood beside him, worry marrying her face while he hacked his guts out.
There was something lodging itself at the back of his air pipe restricting his ability to breathe, even with no more coughs to bark out he continued, the apparent block in his throat a nuisance for such a busy day.
Then that's when he saw it.
In his palm lies a pretty blue petal, glowing lightly under the bioluminescent lights above them. It looked soft and innocent with its color and texture, only if it didn't have blood staining half of it.
Namora gasped beside him, her hands reaching to stop his palms from closing.
"K'uk'ulkan, this is a matter to be taken seriously."
It was, without a doubt, an important matter to discuss with the council. But if word spreads about their king weakening after their fight with the surface dwellers, it might spark a war between them and their reluctant ally. Not to mention, the possibility of bold fiends who'd dare challenge him for the throne.
The moment the petal fell into his palm, Namor knew it was best to keep it hidden for now.
He can't afford losing the only alliance they have, can't risk the only connection he has with her.
Closing a fist, he turned to her with a small smile. "A single petal won't hurt me, child."
"But this is not a mere common disease. This stems from the flower our ancestors—"
Namor stood up straight, crushing the petal in his grasp before disposing of it on the side as if it offended him personally and disrespected his mother. 
He couldn't deny his cousin's claims because he, too, grew concerned for his well-being after seeing him spit out a bloodied petal. It wasn't unusual for him to get sick as he catches a cold every century at least so he paid no heed to his coughs before. Turned a blind eye to the relentless tug of string at the back of his mind leading him into the direction where the Black Panther herself is.
He has felt the unusual tightness and heaviness on his chest ever since he met the noble princess of Wakanda's gaze full of hatred and felt her bloodthirst from outside the ruined throne room. One of the factors that helped her win against him at the beach.
He realised many things in that one moment, where she held his spear over her head, ready to take his life. Yet the biggest conclusion out of them all was his soul being tethered to hers.
The soulmate bond is nothing but a distracting one, he always thinks as he watches everyone around him become fools on chains following the hymn of the ocean. Drawn like the crew of the ship walking into the sea to pursue the sirens' sweet lullabies.
Everyone thinks he's immune to the soulmate bonds due to his godship, imagine their shock once they find out who he's tethered to.
"My king, you must inform the council of this! We must find a cur—"
It was a relief that all of Talokan knows not of the consequences of being rejected by their soulmate but if his cousin continued to nag, it won't take long for somebody to realize the secret he wishes to keep.
No one must know that his soul hooked itself with the Panther of the surface.
Namor brings a finger to her lips. "Not a word of this encounter shall escape between us."
"But—"
"It is unprecedented, yes, but I am a god who has lived for hundreds of years, I will not die from a simple illness."
Nobody has ever seen the results of a mate being rejected in all of those five hundred years Talokan has existed, much less than a Talokan's soul being tethered to a human. This event is something to be written down for research, to be overjoyed for, but with the life of their king involved, not a soul would rejoice.
Namor didn't want his cousin to feel pity for him nor did he want her to worry, so he kept his other symptoms hidden away.
He smiled at her, his pink bottom lips stained with crimson and Namora's body prickled with goosebumps, the crease between her eyebrows deepening.
He reaches to iron them down with his thumb, there was no use for worrying for him. As he said before, he has lived through wars and famine throughout those five centuries of living, a petal won't kill a god.
"Believe in your king, I am alright."
He launches into another hacking fit and Namora could only stand and run her hand up and down his back. She doesn't shed tears often, she's a soldier and the king's closest aid, she wasn't allowed to show weakness for the fear of disappointing Namor.
But for this one time, she let a single droplet fall from her eyes. 
"Aiii, what did I say about worrying about me?" He says, voice hoarse from sore throat as he wiped her tears away.
"Talokan can't bear the loss of its king, I cannot think of a future where you don't get to lead it."
He laughed but was abruptly stopped by a couple of coughs. "I'll be fine, child. Don't cry, I will not die of any illness."
He repeated them to console the woman but in truth, he was also convincing himself. Namor didn't like the mystery of his illness, scared of it even but like any other hardships he has went through, he'll live.
With that, Namor continues down the hall leaving his cousin alone in the corridor, staring at his retreating back. Wide shoulders that used to look firm whenever she stared at it at every battle were now slumping as his body shook with another fit.
Namora felt helpless, stuck between following her king's orders of not uttering a single word of his condition outside the two of them and running to their reluctant ally, Wakanda, for help.
Their technologies are more advanced than any other nation, despite both having access to vibranium, it was them who handled and mastered the ore to aid them and fit it to satiate their nation's needs.
With the brain of the current Black Panther, Namora is sure she'd find help and medicine for her king from the princess. 
Other than her pride and loyalty as a Talokanil getting shattered by telling their previously-enemy nation of their king's illness, Namor's orders weighed on her shoulders like chains connected to the ground, his words are concrete, she had no choice but to follow his whims. 
But once it all becomes too grim, Namora pledged to herself to shed all pride and approach the princess for help.
She stayed silent, trusting her leader a little more as she guarded him whenever he performed his daily task of patrolling the borders and when he surfaced to meet the royalties of Wakanda to discuss their reluctant alliance and the Americans continued threats on the nation and its resources.
‘‘Why can’t we attack their vehicles before they enter Wakandan territory? Or eliminate the whole country altogether to remove the headache once and for all?” Namor suggested nonchalantly as he sat comfortably on the cushioned seats of the new throne room, paying no mind to the stink eyes he received from the other royals.
The Wakandan King scowled. "Why do we even bother inviting you in here when all your mouth can spout is war?”
Shuri waved M’baku off. “Let us not fight here like childrens. We need a solution as soon as possible. I don’t think agent Ross can—”
Then the most horrible chances happened and Namor started coughing violently. Namora arose to her feet in muted panic and in a blink, she’s supporting his body that shook with his coughs, standing in between him and the eyes of the panther if he ever barked petals once more.
This earned the Wakandan royalties’ attention, eyebrows knitting as they awaited for him to calm down. But when it relented after a few seconds passed, Shuri spoke up with her eyebrows knitted.
“Namor, do you need medical help? I can fix you up in my lab.”
But the feathered serpent king waved her worries off. His ribs constricting around his laboured heart at the call of his second name, he has never minded the use of it until it was the Wakandan princess who uses it. His heart throbs as he's once reminded of her distaste for him.
If only he wasn't driven by anger, he wouldn't have to suffer as much as he does now.
He coughed out another bloodied petal and he closed his palm around it, thankful for Namora's body blocking their sight. They mustn’t know.
“There is nothing to worry about here, princess.” He grinned. “Iron that creases between your eyebrows. If not, I would start mistaking it as your concern for me.”
Instantly, the princess’ worried expression crumpled into disgust and he laughed boisterously, an ache in his chest resurfaced and launching him into a small fit. He rose to his feet, not noticing how worry graced Shuri’s face once more as he wiped the blood from his lips discreetly.
But he wasn't fast enough when the smell of iron reached Shuri’s sharp nose and the hair on her nape stood at attention, no doubt alerted by it.
She wasn’t foreign to its smell and the symptoms the Talokan king displayed, if anything, she thinks he caught the same sickness her brother had. Seeing the concern from her face, King M’Baku spoke up from beside her.
“Are you sure you don’t need our aid?”
“I am worried about those coughs, I can smell the blood from here, Namor.” Shuri added.
He froze. Of course, the panther could smell it.
He doesn’t want to discuss his well-being further, he needs to retreat back into the ocean with Namora, the pain blooming in his chest almost unbearable as it shears another long line into his chest, its seams burning deep into his lungs.
“It’s been months already, princess. How about calling me by my real name?”
Shuri groaned. “By Bast’s name—”
“We are thankful for your offer but we must get going.” Namora butts in, foreseeing the path the current conversation will take. A frustrating scene of push and pull between a stubborn princess who only wants to help and a stubborn king who doesn't want it.
With a bow from her, she subtly held up Namor as they exited the throne room.
The apparent worry and panic in her face wasn’t missed by their allies. When M’baku heard the mention of blood, despite all of the horrors their reluctant ally had rained upon their nation, he felt uneasy for letting him off when they knew the symptoms all too well since it was the same illness that took their previous king, T’Challa.
The Feathered Serpent god might've cost their previous Queen's life and destroyed their city but they're merely humans who felt sympathy for others, an ugly feature of their mortality no matter what angle Shuri looks at it.
The princess doesn’t know how to react. She should be overjoyed at the timed life her mother’s murderer has yet here she is, worried beyond belief. Shuri could see the wicked grin N'Jadaka is giving her from the ancestral plane, could feel it even and her blood pressure arose once more.
She doubted her ancestors and the late queen would be enthusiastic to hear such a thing from her. 
“Are you sure you smelled blood from him?”
She turned to M’baku. “Yes, it worries me.”
If the man was surprised at her admission, he didn’t express it, nodding soundlessly instead as he stood up from his throne, taking his staff with him.
“Let us watch where it’ll lead us for now, it seems that god doesn't want us to meddle. But I am sure that cousin of his will soon find us if anything were to happen."
Shuri couldn't find it in herself to deny his words yet the worry settled deep in her gut remained unmoved. She massaged her fingers as she stared at the setting sun outside floor to ceiling glass panes behind the throne, thoughts muddled with possibilities and needless worries.
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