#I HOPE THIS MAKES SENSE AAAA I wanted the angst
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Miles said: "i can't lose you again."
"What?" Clive thought himself unstoppable, determined to go down this path, no matter what. He was driven, the only thing that had kept him alive for so long had been that innate drive and yet, here he was... stopping on his tracks the moment the man addresses him in such a way.
Why? Why would he say that and why was it that Clive's heart sunk the moment he heard such words?
Timidly, he turns to Miles, confusion and sadness written across his face. A glint of a familiarity he is... not familiar with sending shivers down his spine. He doesn't know the meaning, but he's looking at Miles for answers, hoping he gives him something, unconsciously hoping he guides him once again.
"What do you mean by that? I--..." No, even speaking makes him shake... There's something his body knows that he does not and it terrifies him.
♞ @phoenix-flamed ♞
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i have no idea if you write for adam, but here i am
i am the ultimate angst asker, if you're okay with that
adam or lute(ilovewomenbumpersticker) x reader who does in the extermination without them knowing.
- FEED ME A BONE,
carcass
aaaa thank you so much for the request!! i am a fellow lover of women, so I will do Lute at a later date. i wasnt too sure about what you meant by 'does in'. i did give you a sad ending though, so hopefully that makes up for it!
how would adam or lute react to the reader finding out about the exterminations? Part 1
- Adam -
you and adam started dating before he started the exterminations
you're an amazing person - kind, sweet, innocent, everything an angel should be. and also everything Adam isn't.
adam is already so insecure about anything that has to do with hell bc lucifer stole his wives (cue pussy eating hand gesture)
so he doesn't even mention it when he starts thinking about the exterminations
you're suspicious, obviously, because he's going off on so many meetings and is becoming more distant
but you dont say anything because you love adam, and he would never lie to you.. would he?
when adam finally gets his extermination team approved, he's overjoyed
he comes home and immediately kisses the shit out of you
You whine as he pulls away from you, your lips swollen and your face flushed. You try to catch your breath. "Not that I'm complaining, but, uh, what exactly was that about?"
Adam grins widely, squeezing your hands. "What, am I not allowed to kiss my beautiful partner hello?" You sense a hint of deceit in his voice, but choose not to question him about it.
you and adam always sleep in the same bed at nights. you have practically since you started dating.
so when one night he doesn't come home, alarm bells immediately go off in your head
is he cheating on you? maybe he found someone else, someone better
no, you reason, surely he's just held up at work
your suspicions only intensify when he returns the following morning, hair tousled and clothing ruffled
he looks exhausted, like he didn't get any sleep. usually this would indicate a long day at work, but theres a smile on his face that paperwork could never cause
dread grows in your stomach
he greets you happily, like nothing's wrong, and you play along, not wanting to fight with your boyfriend about something that could very well have been a misunderstanding
next year, though, when he disappears again and comes back looking thoroughly satisfied, your suspicions are confirmed.
adam is cheating on you.
you're a very conflict-averse person, so these yearly meetings go on for nearly two decades (time works different in heaven ok just roll with it. 1 year = a month to them basically)
eventually, though, you come home from a hard day of work and Adam isn't there.
that pushes you over the edge. you pack a bag and store it in the closet before going back to your room.
you would look for an apartment in the morning. for now, you just want to sleep.
you wake up and join adam in the kitchen for breakfast. he looks like he always does after these meetings - ruffled, yet satisfied.
"Adam," you say simply, "we need to talk."
"Uh-oh," teases Adam, "am I in trouble?"
"Where were you last night?"
Adam swallows thickly. "What?"
You glare at him. "Where were you last night?"
"I was busy with a work thing - you know how it is, babe, they work me to the bone. It's ridiculous."
"Why do you look so happy, then, so fulfilled?" You sigh. "Look, Adam, I know you're cheating on me. I've known for years now. I guess I just hoped you'd have the balls to admit it."
adam tries to frantically explain that he's not cheating on you, that he's been leading a yearly extermination
he would never cheat on you, he loves you
you demand to know what an extermination is, and he tells you in more detail than you ever would have wanted
you listen in silence as he describes the joy he gets from killing demons - from killing human souls
you retrieve your bag and leave your shared apartment for good
adam begs you to stay, says he'll change, that he'll do anything
but you can't be with a murderer
#hazbin fanfic#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel adam#adam x reader#gn reader#x reader#reader#reader insert#angst#heavy angst#sad ending#no happy ending
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hi! happy 1k <3 may i request a piece with johnny x single mom reader + the prompt “will you stay?” “of course, i’m not planning on leaving anytime soon.”? i thought it’d be interesting if reader was formerly captured by the sawyer family, while she was on vacation with friends, but johnny relented and decided to let her go because of how badly she begged for her life & at the time her baby was only 2 months old, which she told him. so johnny being johnny as well, he was able to track her down a month later — at first just to check up on her, but he decided he wanted to help her raise her kid & kind of switch up his life since the baby’s father is (willingly) out of the picture. also reader is a young mom (early 20s), around the same age that johnny is, he’s just a lil older. they’re still warming up to each other/developing their relationship but to the reader’s surprise, johnny’s really good with kids & has done a lot to help reader out to give her a break? AAAA THIS IS A LOT OF INFO IM SORRY but i hope it makes sense & that you have fun with making something out of this <333
AAAA ok no but i love this, idk it makes sense for the sawyers to spare a victim if they have a kid?? the whole "family" motto would get to them lol. i love all your info but i apologise if i've missed out on anything. i've made this drabble more like a time passing sort of thing so i could include everything.
tags: angst. single-mum!reader. reformed!johnny. kid is gn (use of they/it). descriptions of trauma. johnny feels a lot of guilt. mild blood ment.
“Drop the god-damn knife, Johnny. She’s got a kid for crying out loud!” Drayton barked.
Johnny’s adrenaline shot through his body, tensing his muscles and trembling his hands. “Is that true?” He growled, eyes shot out at your petrified stare.
You pulled a Polaroid picture out of your pocket, your bloody hands staining the corners. You beheld it to Johnny, trying to steady your shakes. Johnny gazed at the picture, the newborn clouded in white, its eyes closed in a peaceful sleep.
“My baby . . . My baby. I need to go home to my baby,” You sob, begging on your knees, hysterics maddening all parts of your manner.
Johnny’s knife dropped to the floor, and he thought about every bad thing he had done. There was no coming back from this.
It had been a month of silence. A month of sleepless nights and looking over your shoulder. Breastfeeding became agonising. Your baby’s cries sent you into uncontrollable alertness. Your hair was brittle and your skin shallow, the stress shivering through your body like a ghost entering your soul.
The letters came around that time. Off-white envelopes with a few dollars in cash. All that was left was a note,
For the Baby,
I’m sorry.
Meeting him again after the kidnapping was an anxiety-driven step, bouncing your baby on your lap as you waited in the diner booth. You convinced yourself you lost your mind, wanting to rekindle with your kidnapper. But you hadn’t heard from anyone since the birth; the baby daddy became non-existent. Your family refuse to return your calls. The only person willing to help you was Johnny.
He was silent across from you for a while. The only words he uttered were to order from the menu. He shovelled down an apple pie while you bottle-fed your child, lulling them to their afternoon nap.
“Why are you helping me?” You remember asking. Visioning Johnny’s deep gaze, his subtle glances at your first-born, a tinge of sadness glazing his eyes.
He said he owed you too much. Your baby deserved to grow up with a male figure in its life, and you deserved someone to protect you. The sight of your youthful features withering away from stress, the permanent damage he inflicted on you, ached your eyes and down-turned your smile. It kept him up at night thinking about you, struggling with the fussing cries and flashes of his brute force. He wanted to step up. He was ready for redemption.
He drove you back home, watching over his new companions with careful eyes. His arm outstretched as he turned the wheel, hoping not to disturb the baby’s slumber. The rascal woke up eventually, full of energy the minute you invited him inside. “Would you like to hold them?” You asked, unable to ignore his loving stares.
He felt like crying, holding something so precious. Knowing he nearly orphaned this child, ridding it of a beautiful mother. He swore to protect the kid, holding its gentle head and leaning it into his chest. His gentleness surprised you, the warmth filling your smile for the first time in months.
Johnny never left the house. He hadn’t seen his family in months and had no plans on returning. Your little one was proliferating, and Johnny got used to using his strength to pry the ankle biter from dangerous objects. He ditched the knives and retired into swinging the kid until they were out of breath from laughter. He stepped up, got a job, and brought money in to keep you secure.
He was a different man, and he changed you as a mother. He repented for his sins. He begged for forgiveness with every stare your way, with every gentle touch. You finally forgave him, praying that his presence is destined to be everlasting.
“Will you stay?” He held you in his arms as you choked up, clinging to his body.
“I’m not plannin’ on leavin’ anytime soon.” Johnny kissed the top of your head, his arms around you. Your loving touch soothing the aching heart he’s adorned for decades.
#johnny slaughter x reader#johnny sawyer x reader#tcm game#texas chainsaw massacre#angst#creepling.1k
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I think you and 🍰 have mentioned it before, but I’d love to hear your thoughts about the way the musical portrays L. The concept album was my introduction to Death Note as well, but I feel like the L in the songs is a much more dramatic take on L? Which, y’know, makes sense, since it’s ✨musical theatre✨ and all. Like, “The Game Begins” is SO fun, but we’d never get a monologue like it from L in the manga or anime. Idk, the musical paints a bit of a different image of L to me. Not a bad one at all, just a different one.
-🎲
holy space cows 🎲 anon okay let's go! again answering this before my other asks because it's more me rambling than an actual story
GOOOOOD musical L when I first watched the musical I wanted to pick him up take him out of the screen and squeeze him like a stress ball. honestly I loved (love?) him maybe even more than anime L dhdhhdh
I'll put a break in here because I think I'm gonna say a lot
like. he did so many things like anime L (I've never read the manga so I see that L as "base" L) but also I feel had his own quirks. like how he hopped onto chairs (Teen Angst L did this too but because it was screen not stage it felt different. I've done stage acting before so maybe it's just me but screen doesn't feel as close, I just loooove stage acting, UGH. This was also why it was more dramatic in some places, you have to act for the whole audience but, I'm assuming you didn't see it live, WAIT have you even watched the recorded version?? It's on YouTube it's sooo good the subtitles are great too, you can sing along to the songs. it's in Japanese tho. Anyway my point was going to be, because you're acting for people really far away, your movements will be big and dramatic and you'll notice this if it's recorded up close).
HIS VOICE WAS SO NICE TOO like damn this is a fine ass man. His songs, I agree looking back at them they aren't all things anime L would say, especially not unprompted. But I don't think that it was so far out of character that it was unbelievable, you know? I actually think that though yes, the Game Begins was dramatic, that was just the song and not the tone of it, if that makes sense. I'd say songs like Playing His Game and (I can't remember the name but the one LawLight duet they sing at the college? not the tennis one. UGH I know the Japanese...) Anyway, I'd say those songs are more ooc. Cause I think L sees all of his cases as a game, his job as a game. Like yes he cares about human life but he also only takes on interesting cases. I've heard this is more like his manga version, which is kinda cool that this "headcanon" of mine is "canon."
AHAHA anyway the point I was actually going to make with that paragraph was: in the final song (a little ooc but in some lines very in character) L holds this one "O" note that makes me go WEAK IN THE KNEES and of course Light is singing over it at the same time, sobs. This is in the Japanese version. I prefer that version overall, but I like some of the English songs too, like Playing His Game and Requiem. So if you haven't listened to it YOU SHOULD!! It's on YouTube music, you can search up english song name + death note musical. A lot of them are by "LyricNear" I think. and you can ofc watch the full musical. but aaaa the final song breaks my heart but I have to listen to that goddamn note... you guys... you don't understand.
Uh, the musical did of course take some creative liberties. There was no Matsuda which I will always bring up because it is a crime, MUSICAL REMISA WAS THE BEST, the limited runtime cut plots and explanations (I kind of appreciated the ending, though I cried because I was hoping it would end differently), and I don't think they had a Watari. Actually thinking about that, that's probably the most ooc L thing in the whole movie: being able to take care of himself. (well presumably to some degree considering he's still alive at the start)
But yeah... I love musical L... I don't mind when he's ooc because it only disrupts soft headcanons of mine, not hard ones. I also haven't watched it for a while so I may be misremembering some things, but still. Gosh I really want to hug him... his clothes look so soft.... maybe I'll just steal his voice box/j
#lei chats#lei's lawliet#musical L is literally the sun and moon and stars to me#death note#death note musical#l lawliet#dn#death note headcanons#death note hc#death note l#rambles#death note the musical#so many thoughts#🎲 anon#anons
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Hello! I've got a quite angsty request bc- ALL I HAVE IN MIND IN ANGST IM SORRY
with Kaeya where f!reader (preferably, but idm gn!reader if you feel like writing that more) loses her/their vision after an injury in a fight? I'd love some fluff at the end if you want to ^^
I hope this wasnt requested before aaaa I might have overseen it maybe? and also pls don't write this if it doesnt inspire you or anything waaah ;v; (dang I write a lot I'm sorry urksjfll)
Listen with the new patch coming out and my coming out of retirement; I'd be happy to oblige bc I love me some good angst.
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"A Vision Does(n't) Make A Person"
Pairing: Kaeya X Vision holder (Knight) Reader (GN)
Warning: Angst (with a happy ending), mentions of violence, use of strong language, mentions of injuries, light fluff, and implied relationship with the reader
Word count: 1107
Authors note: This turned out WAYYY longer than I thought it was gonna be. I also didn't intend for this to be GN but no use of pronouns came up?? I hope the minimum amount of fluff was okay too! Please enjoy and remember my requests are open; I'm back baby 🤠
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The fight was rough. That's the only word you could conjure in your mind to describe it as you lay bloody bruised on the ground. You were walking back from Dragonspine in the late evening, when a group of at least a dozen treasure hoarders ambushed you leaving you completely blindsiding you.
You lay almost lifeless on the floor for a few seconds more, mustering the strength to stand. Once you finally do; you go to retrieve your weapon, which managed to completely break during the battle, and you pat your side to check your vision. Your blood runs ice cold and a sense of dread falls over you... Your vision wasn't where you had it normally. You know you had it during the fight but?? Did it get dislodged in the scuffle??
You drop to your hands and knees moving around the dirt and grass looking for any sign of your gleaming vision. Sensing nothing you become more frantic tearing through surrounding bushes until it finally dawns on you.
The fucking treasure hoarders took it.
Your pride and joy, something the Archons blessed you with someone else wrongfully ripped from your possession. Tears fill your eyes. "A vision doesn't make a person" is what Jean told you long ago when you first received yours but after having it for so long it felt like a piece of you. Right now you felt like your vision did make you a person.
Before being gifted your vision, you were lost, directionless in the world. You didn't know what you wanted to do with your life and you hit a low you don't care to ever relive.
After the Archons bestowed you with it in your lowest moments; your life rapidly improved... You joined the Knights, trained under some of the best, met the love of your life, and on top of all that helped the traveler save fucking Mondstat.
You hit the ground with your first, sobbing so loud you're sure all of Teyvet can hear you. You bury your face in the ground not caring about anything at this point.
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You're not sure how long you lay there crying on the side of the road but eventually you hear footsteps approaching rapidly. " (Y/N)??? Are you okay???" A familiar voice bounds towards you. "Hey look at me please?" Fuck, you forgot Kaeya was overseeing nighttime patrol.
You raise your head from the fetal position you had tucked yourself into, you know you probably looked awful covered in dirt and blood. The look on Kaeya's face didn't make matters any better, full of genuine concern. "Got ambushed..." You state flatly, your voice sounded foreign to you. His face contorts into a grimace. "It was the treasure hoarders Jean was worried about huh?" You nod dumbly and bury your head back into your chest.
"Not to sound like an asshole but you look like hell, how long have you been out here? We really need to take you to the church to get your wounds checked." Keaya was trying to lighten the mood, sensing you were obviously upset. "They took my vision Kae.." You can't help but to break out into sobs again. "They took my fucking vision, my fucking weapon is broken, why am I knight? I can't even defend myself from a bunch of stupid treasure hoarders! I'm fucking worthless!" You can't tell if it's from you yelling or the injuries you sustained but your head was pounding.
Keaya plops on the ground next to you and wraps his arms around you, gently of course so as to not hurt you. He hushes you softly as you cry into his chest. "We'll get it back, luckily Jean has a good idea where the hideout is, due to some recent intel we got this afternoon."
"Also..." He pauses for a moment. " For the record, you're not worthless. I never once thought that, from the first moment I saw you there was this fire surrounding you. A will to succeed."
You look up at him meekly." That's because in training I had a vision when some of the others didn't.. Not that makes those without it aren't strong I just... it made me stronger." He shakes his head. " No, before that too. You were just as strong. I know you've had a rough past, but you didn't give up. The Archons only give visions to those who need an extra shove, a wake up call... " His eyes glaze over for a moment before continuing. " Your stronger than you know, especially since you put up with me and my unruly habits." He chuckles.
You sniffle softly, finally cracking a smile. "Archons, I was worried I'd never see that smile of yours again." Kaeya sighs dramatically, but also lets a small smile of his own out. "I'd kiss you right now if you weren't covered in blood." He drawls as you roll your eyes.
"Can you stand? I know your adrenaline has probably died down at this point so the pain for your injuries will begin catching up to you." You give him a small nod however he assists you standing up regardless. "Let's get you cleaned up and to the church okay?After that I'll gather some of the knights and we'll get that vision back to you okay? I promise I'll take care of it personally." He says in the sickly sweet tone, for a moment you pity those thieves for what they're about to endure... Almost of course.
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Epilogue:
It wasn't until the next morning Kaeya returned.
For a brief moment you were even worried about him, Rosaria was no help in quelling those worries but Barbara definitely made you look on the bright side of things.
You sustained some pretty nasty injuries including broken bones and fractured in some places so Kaeya insisted you stay at the church until he returned. Thanks to Barbara you weren't in any pain and most if not all of your external injuries were healed.
Seeing Kaeya walk through the door however sent you over the moon. With his signature smirk plastered on his face and instead of flipping a coin he was holding something much more valuable, your vision.
"I believe this belongs to you?" He smirked, leaning in to place your vision in your hands. "Kea..." Your eyes brim with tears. "I cannot thank you enough, I'm eternally in debt to you." He smiles and leans in to leave a peck on your forehead. "I think buying me a couple rounds will do just fine."
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#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact#kaeya alberich#kaeya x reader#kaeya alberich x reader#kaeya x you#requests#kaeyahiya requests#my writing#kaeya fluff
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istg i read carousel as if it were the gc with my besties, i'll be reading an update and gasp audibly or go "no he didn't?????" or start giggling and kicking my feet or get so worked up i have to step away from the phone for a minute lmao 😭 the hold this fic has on me is crazy, you're doing amazing!!! thank you sm for writing it 🩷🩷🩷
there are so many things going on at once i don't even know where to start??? first of all im so glad my girl y/n finally came clean, i was rooting for her to own up to her actions and take accountability bc she deserves healing :-( and i feel like yuna was the right person for her to come clean to, i really wanted her to tell hyune about it first but she clearly trusts yuna unconditionally so it makes sense, i love their friendship and i don't think she'll drop her tbh bc she's witnessed y/n's growth and her true character firsthand but i do think she'll give her a reality check which is needed 😭 and about yeji girl.... i understand where she's coming from and she has many valid reasons to be bitter towards y/n, more than anyone else honestly and especially with everything going on with yeosang but girl time and place 😭 your best friend is missing and you're beefing with his girl over whether he likes the beach or not i need you to be soooo fr rn. also i need yeosang out of the picture IMMEDIATELY literally the party ended one hour ago and he's still here 💀 brother LET IT GO!!!! his ass really thinks he'll get the girl by being toxic to everyone around him and by threatening her and controlling her.. me when im in a delusional competition and my opponent is carousel!yeosang like omg 💀 and hyune leaving the hospital :-( i honestly don't know what could be going on there but i hope everything's fine
omg plsss i love that it's so cute the fact that you're so invested and your enthusiasm aaaa i love it sm cus lowkey i feel the same even though i wrote it? like i'll reread it and get worked up and stuff so i totally get it
i agree!! i think yn telling someone about the bet aside from woo and yeo is a step in the right direction specially since yuna is such a good influence on her so i think this is really positive!
Ahahaha i canttt the way you're writing everything is just so funny but i agree yeji is really going through it man its her angst arc rn
I enjoyed reading this so much omg i loved it i hope you write me more and tysm for writing <3 literally smiling so hard rn aa i love it ty ty
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Hi Bee.
Tis me again, ya boy, Tech, and I wanted to say thank you for responding. It was really helpful and I appreciate the input and reassurance a lot. Don't worry about the late response, it was worth it and I get that you have a life lol.
(I don't mind my tag being "tech anon", I understand!)
I am doing ok besides General Life Shit™, thank you :3
With all of that stuff out of my head and off of my chest, I just wanted to talk about your writing a bit!
Honestly I just love it all sm??? Like I knew I liked your writing style from the Clinic series, but you're so talented at writing for so many genres and it's just beautiful. I really really like how you write fantasy, like the fae, mermaid, and vampire stories you have. They're so creative and the worldbuilding is incredible!
I want to read more of your longer fics, but I noticed that they don't have happy ending tags? Like "The World Forgetting by The World Forgot", "Looking Through A Glass Divine", and "The Stars and Their Children" are all missing an "angst with a happy ending" or "happy ending" tag.
Does this mean that they don't have happy endings, or are they just not tagged that way for whatever reason? I'd really like to know since I can't read long fics without happy endings cause they make me too depressed.
Thank you for listening to my ramblings. Please lmk if I get annoying or anything TvT
-Tech
hey tech!! so glad my rambling was able to help you out a bit <3
aaaa this is so sweet thank you so much. while I love writing a lot of different genres, I really thrive with fantasy. it's my favorite genre to read so I suppose it makes sense why I'm drawn to it for writing as well. I just love exploring and fleshing out these worlds so different from our own
oh yeah I honestly just forgot about those tags hence why I stopped adding them to my longer fics. also because my endings got more complicated and felt like they couldn't exactly be classified as just happy or sad (or in the case of stars, I wasn't sure how happy the ending was going to be for most of the fic)
I will tell you though for stars it is a happy ending. through a glass divine I'd say is fairly happy though a tiny bit bittersweet. the world forgetting by the world forgot is probably my most controversial fic ending and the one I've gotten the most criticism over, although I wouldn't even think of it as a sad ending? I personally always thought of it as a hopeful ending, but a lot of people didn't like it so idk
take that as you will! if you want my personal recommendation, the stars and their children is definitely the one you should read if you want to read one of my long ones. not only is it the most solid happy ending out of the three, but I also think of it as the best fic I've ever written just overall. if you do read it I hope you enjoy!!
(and dw you're not annoying at all!)
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Man after reading the previous ask i just wanted to commiserate a bit.
Even though lukerosa is my otp since launch, i’ve always been most charmed by artem, who was so awkward and sincere and sweet. I adore how supportive artem and rosa have been of each other from the very beginning and in any version of events i like to imagine that they grow to become close friends and partners-in-crime-fighting. Their immense mutual respect and admiration is just a great foundation for a relationship.
Now, I have more of an attachment to the pre-1st anniv cards because i’m a sucker for mutual pining, but i’ve enjoyed the post-anniv cards too because it felt like a natural progression of their relationship. To find out that the writing quality for artem’s stories eventually gets worse and worse is very disheartening. When the writing starts out amazing but becomes terrible later on, it is always worse because it feels like a betrayal.
I’m going to keep playing ToT especially since he’s not my only fave, but I really hope the writing gets better again, artem deserves only the best, most tightly-written, and consistent characterisation. And I hope even more that his soon-to-be-announced 3rd anniv card is good — if it can redeem the previous bad cards… well that’s the dream.
Thank you for reading! I hope you’re having fun despite all this :)
so i was going to answer my asks in the morning (it's been a long day for me!) but this ask was literally the sweetest thing i have ever read, i had to respond asap ;_;
as a fellow lukerosa enjoyer (their interactions are always such a treat!!! they're the best genre of childhood friends to lovers due to that eight year time skip and the draaaama that comes with it. i still think about luke's personal story 4 to this day i SWEARRRR), genuinely thank you for the kind words, it really means a lot!! 😭😭
i totally agree with your thoughts on artem's earlier cards, you took the words right out of my mouth :,,) we're also on the exact same wavelength of the pre-1st anniversary cards - they're my absolute most cherished favorites. entwined fate, lost gold, sickness and in health, skadi, railroad, first birthday, aaaa..... some of my absolute favorites.. the original personal stories 1-4 are my favorites across the board too (my favorites definitely being artem's and luke's !!)
gosh yeah i think that's why i'm so upset! i genuinely and truly adore artem as a character, and i adore his older cards. this is to the point where i used all of my saved s-chips on the previous select-an-ssr banner to get his railroad card instead of his second anniversary card!!
to make it even more baffling, i haven't noticed a quality drop like this in the other boys?! if anyone reading is a fan of the other three, feel free to correct me if i'm wrong, but luke, marius, and vyn's cards all stay very consistent personality and plot wise imo. i can't help but wonder if something happened to artem's writing team?? the writing literally feels so different, i can't explain it. it's like. a lack of understanding of his charm. they dont understand why people liked him, or any of the more nuanced aspects to his character and his dynamic with rosa.
i miss them being Best Partners with artem's dry sense of humor and rosa cheering him on over the most mundane of a shit (like posing against a wall HAHA) and them taking their time and artem opening up and becomimg genuine friends who make jokes and tease each other and the strong mutual respect and consent and ;-;;; sniff
and aw thank you for the kind words!!!! i hope you're having fun too!! wishing for an absolutely touching card for lukerosa as well :) <3 year three has fantastic potential for some prime hurt/comfort angst and fluff for those two!!
#asks#eastrum#i do have fun!! recently i've been getting more into reading marius and luke's cards!#tears of themis#I HOPE YOU HAVE A LOVELY DAY!!!!!!!!!!! ;v; <3 <3
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HI OHMYGOSH I AM HERE TO RANT ABOUT HOW EXCITED I AM FOR YOUNG ROYALS SEASON 2! Like can you believe that IT’S ALMOST HERE??? Granted, we don’t really know WHEN this year it’ll come out BUT LIKE ITS COMING OUT /THIS/ YEAR! We’ll soon get more drama and sweet moments between everyone and I canT WAIT OH LORD. I hope there’s a lot of drama tbh, i want tension and angst but I also want those moments in between when it’s quiet and everyone can breathe and have beautiful, sweet, loving moments you know? IDK IF THIS MAKES ANY SENSE I REALLY AM RANTING. OK BYE.
HELLO HELLO HELLO
no no I COMPLTELY understand you make PERFECT sense darling!!
it's almost here and that's aaaaaaaaaaa omg I can't believe we'll really have new content in less than 6 months!!!!! that's the MAXIMUM wait time like MAN!!!!!!!
also YES I am so so looking forward to the angst and tension and all of the moments in between!! I cannot wait to see how Willem and Simon talk after the hug and confession at the end of ep6 AAAA
i also hadn't seen it ever it first came out so I'm REALLY looking forward to being able to see the faction in action when ots released eheh
#askers#anon#this made me smile so so much AAAAAAA#thank you for the rant sweeite im screaming#also please understand: I'm literally watching heartstopper rn as well jdjxjfjd#shh ac#young royals
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SEI IM GONNA CRY JESUS TAKE THE WHEEL 🤣
THAT WAS A RIDE UM CUPIDS LAW WAS TRULY PAIN INDUCING BUT I LOVED IT SM 🥲 THE WAY YOUR WRITE ANGST IS LIKE EATING SOMETHING YOU KNOW YOU SHOULDNT BUT YOU WANT MORE??? idk if that makes sense??
it was so good at first i was like 😋 🤩 and then when they did their little jacket exchange & the sticky notes i was in heaven enjoying my time 🤓
But then there was more tension growing and i was like 😱 and when we got to yeeun and the hat i was getting a bit excited but when we got to the party and the argument i was like at the edge of my seat because i was just in a happy place?? and before the attitude change from miss ma'am yeeun and i was also like 🤨?? girl wtf like the whole "your outfit wont overshadow mine" bs had me abt to scream
THEN THE KISS SCENE THAT YOU "COULDNT WRITE" LIKE IT WAS CUTE LIKE HAD A SMILE THE WHOLE ENTIRE TIME and the pinkies being interlaced made me so happy!!
AND THEN BOOM miss yeeun back on her bs was abt to start bawling when i read the text messages 🥱 but then the end :(( ive never felt so emotionally attached to an ending it was so sadd when hee started crying man 😭 BUT I LOVED THE ENDING YN FOLLOWING THE CUPIDS RULES WAS SUCH A NICE TOUCH
ALSO HEE CALLING HER MISS CUPID AHH 🤧 also sorry for this being so long i just had to share my excitement !!
ILY SEI !!
REIII HI MY LUV I HOPE YOU'VE BEEN WELL ♡♡♡ HELPPP TYSM FOR READING CLNFIL OMG😭😭
Omllll atp I cannot go on without angst fr 😭🤚🏼 but help yes the little actions between them (aka the only moments of fluff bYe) helped prepare y'all for the ending 😭 BUT HELPPP YEEUN WENT A LIL INSANE FR. LIKE SHES ONE OF THOSE OBSESSED TEENS WHO THINK THEIR LOVE INTEREST CAN BE WITH THEM AND ONLY THEM 💀 but yeah that whole dress thing with her was 🕳👩🦯 bye like wow rude okay :|||
HELP??? IM GLAD YOU ACC LIKED THE KISS SCENE, IDK HOW MANY TIMES I FELT SICK WHILE WRITING IT 👺 but oh em gee yeah Ms. Yeeun here really had to just step in and BOOM chaos. But yes hee at the end was just.... let's just say he got a taste of his own medicine 😭😭😭😭
HELPP MISS CUPID WAS AAAA YES 💖 but oml tysm for reading once again and I'm really glad you enjoyed it 🥺 it means so much to me ilyy
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Hi! I hope your having a good day, o have question for you.
How would the cult react to the reader(who actually is a god) say that they can't spend any time in teyvat because they have many wars to fight, to many rogue monsters to kill and basically has a schedule that won't go empty for the next three hundred years, Thiers to busy doing godly stuff.
Thank you for you time, remember to eat and sleep!
🍕🍜🍛🍡🌭🍟
gasps
let me do it!
obsessive worshiping, genshin cult, angst with comfort, religious themes, soft yandere theme.
zhongli
no no no! why why no why you? it could be anything else. hes begging on his knees. please please stay with your cult dear loving friends. let him tame care of you. hell he will take care of all the monsters! just please please dont leave him. if your reasoning is you have to with your godly duties he’ll fight beside you, by that i mean you’ll stay on your throne and he will do everything. if that doesnt make you want to stay then he has no choice then keeping you in the teapot. please dont leave. youll come to your senses eventually. after he’ll take of all the monsters and your duties… so just stay put and let him take care of everything. this is the least he can do for you after all the things youve done.
klee
their grace leaving to fight?!?! why? but we havent even went fish blasting yet! “i want to stay with you so ill do whatever it takes!!” thats what she says all the time. everyone else understands (for this specific work) but she, she does not. she always says this to you which scares you because you fear her life is in danger. so it forces you to stay with her. stay with her. and the safety of you acolytes. and maybe go fish blasting. so hug her as she squeezes you to make sure you dont leave.
fishcl
just after she sees her lovely beauty/handsomeness of a god. you want to leave? your duties.. on the outside she understands completely.. but on the inside shes a small child crying for her god. why would you leave her? just let someone else care for your duties why her? why you?! why cant it be some other god? she justs wishes she could take you away from all the monsters you fight!! but… that’ll never happen. your the reason why she feels happy. but your happiness is first. so if it makes you happy… do it <3
______________________________________________
aaaa this made my heart burn :(
THANK YOU VERY MUCH FOR THE REQUEST DEAR!! I WILL REMEMEBER TO EAT AND DRINK AND SLEEP!! HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY! <33
kirozai out’!
edited?: no (is anything ACTUALLY edited on kirozai’s page? no)
#genshin self aware#genshin cult au#self aware genshin#self awareness#soft yandere#yandere#fischl#genshin fischl#genshin zhongli#zhongli#genshin klee#klee
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I JUST FINISHED THE THIRD PART AND AAAA NOO DEAR READER NOO 😭😭
The Tsaritsa being so kind to us is just magnificent, truly resembles her past and it’s just so refreshing after being tormented by everything (except for Milo, the Abyss Mage and all the other friends Reader has, they deserve the world 😞). I truly hope that even if Reader goes to another region, they can always count with her!
I have some questions regarding some in-game mechanics, like for example friendship. Will the characters that had a high amount of friendship with the Reader suffer more when they learn the truth? (They literally were Reader’s favourites and they just didn’t do anything to stop the torture/helped with it) hmm yes so much angst it crushes my heart ❤️. Oh god, just thinking about them realizing that the love her god had for them was destroyed it’s so painful 🥲
Will Paimon be aware from the beginning of our true identity? I haven’t seen her in any of the SAGAU works I have read, and it would be sus to see her not recognizing us (she is literally the one that connects the Traveler with us if we think about it, and has all the necessary means to help us since she herself can help with out-of-game stuff, like with the wishes or the game settings)
Do new characters or characters that haven’t appeared yet (like Itto or Ayato) hate Reader too? It would make sense from a world view, but thinking that they weren’t present when Reader was traveling around Teyvat is a little bit strange (but not impossible since even the Archons who DEVOTED their lives and love to Reader couldn’t recognize them 😭)
Thanks again for your wonderful content and sorry if the ask was longer than expected, and also PLEASE SLEEP IT’S SO LATE (at least here) GO NOW GO TO ZZZ AND REMEMBER TO TAKE CARE!
Platonic kisses from Kitty Anon!
the amount of people calling me out on my unhealthy sleeping schedule-
You saying how it resembles the Tsaritsa's past
Me not knowing anything about the Tsaritsa'spast: 🧍
and to answer your questions!
the characters with the most friendship would definetely be crushed. Unfortunately, since everybody's friendship characters are different for each person i can't really include it in a general sagau fic. However, the traveler. Being the God's first vessel and the vessel they can most easily level up, being the vessel they use in cutscenes. The one vessel that no matter what sees their god everytime they log onto the game?
Imagine the hurt when they didn't reconginze you? they just went along with what the archons were saying. I mean, they were doing it for you! They were thinking of you! You were such an important person to capture, the traveler was sure if they got rid of you, the archons would give them plentiful rewards. You always look so happy when you have enough for a wish, they just wanted to see you happy-!
also i'd love to include reader getting their revenge and then going back to tsurumi island with Milo and seeing him all grown up. Idk if i'll have the time or room to include it in part four and i plan on that being the last part. i might include fluff scenarios connected to it just for my own self-indulgence :))
I ACTUALLY HAVE NO CLUE WHAT ROLE PAIMON WOULD PLAY she's definetely self-aware. i mean, on pc when you press escape, she's there floating around on the interface, looking at you. She knows you, what you look like. Was she just staying silent for her own gain? Out of fear? Or maybe she was actually none the wiser? Idk man, up to interpretation i suppose
also whether a character hates you or not changes person to person!
i assume that Ayato also hates you. He's connected to Inazuma very precariously, he has many relations and understands how important their god is. So the thought of you impersonating their god has his blood boiling and his sword at the ready.
Itto, though, is half oni. I don't know much about him, but he isn't too concerned with human politics as far as im aware. I like to think he heard about you being an imposter and thought "Well if they think their so good to impersonate the almighty god then let them fight me!" again, don't know much about him, but he'd be itching for a fight and/or doesn't care about you being an "imposter" he just wants to see this "godly power" or lack there of for himself
NOW YAE MIKO is one mysterious bitch! I feel like she wouldn't have much of a role in your capture, which makes her seem suspicious to everyone. But she's a friend of the Shogun, nobody can hurt her. I FEEL LIKE, she'd track you down and interract with you without hurting you. You're immediately attatched to her because she didn't jump to violence. She notices how pathetic you are and maybe investigates you further.
idk i feel like she'd either figure out the truth and/or try and get something from you. she's a sly fox <3
THANK YOU FOR THE ASK AND I WILL SLEEP SOON <3 ALSO IT'S LATE WHERE YOU ARE??? THEN SLEEP??? HYPOCRITE??? <3
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Normalcy
Request: aaaa can I ask for 36 with Donnie for the kissing thing? thank you, your writing makes me very happy ❤️
Prompt 36: Kissing away tears
Pairing: Donatello/Reader
Content Warnings: The first angst fic... Light angst with a happy ending!
Word Count: 1095
Donatello stretches in his bed, pulling his electric blanket closer to him. The heated fabric glides effortlessly over his shell, free of the hard metal and plastic of his battleshell and instead covered with a soft, purple hoodie. It’s a rare sight, to be sure. The neon purple lights of his room cast a cooling glow on his painted pixels, painting a scene that would put even the most devout purple-enthusiasts to shame. Any other time, he’d be sending you photos to capture the moment. Perhaps he’d attach some snarky, witty caption about how “God put him on the earth to serve looks.”
Although, today isn’t a normal day. He runs a lone finger over his phone’s screen, scrolling through long-lost social media. Yours, to be exact. Your profile is decorated with countless photos from different points in your life: friends, family, food, art… Although, most of the photos are old. Likely an abandoned account, or one that you use to keep in touch with family.
It’s hard to imagine being in a relationship when you’re so secluded from the world, Sure, he’s had thoughts: grand and fantastical thoughts of romance that sweep him away, even if they’re never voiced out loud. Oh, how his brothers would tease him if they had heard his lovesick thoughts in his youth. He’d tease himself about it too, honestly. But now, he’s here. He’s given his heart and soul and has been given anothers’ in return. Despite his confident demeanor, he never thought he’d be in an actual relationship, much less with a human, but… he’s here. He made it. And he couldn’t be happier about it! But his mind wanders back to all those nights spent alone in his thoughts, and he realizes something: he’ll never have those small, domestic displays of affection with you. No photos together on social media, no double dates on the surface, no shopping at malls for overpriced t-shirts, no...normalcy. He’s never wanted normalcy, but god, wouldn’t it be nice to spend time with you like that? Or hell, to even hold your hand like a normal person?
Oh, what he wouldn’t give to proclaim loud and proud that he’s your partner and vice versa. To put a face to the name, and for people to know that you’re as much his as he is yours. But... he can’t. And he knows that. But knowing doesn’t make it hurt any less.
You’re so perfect. And he’s so...different.
The tears are falling before he can stop them, and he rubs at the tracks roughly. “Fucking, shit,” he hisses, shooting up from under the covers. He doesn’t know why he’s fighting the tears, but fuck, they won’t stop coming and his heart hurts and he feels pathetic and why do you even stay and-
~~~
Your hand stills above the numpad, hesitating to punch in the last number. Something about the lair feels off. Not a sense of danger per say, but… something doesn’t feel right. Your fingers graze the final number, and the door slides open with a deafening hiss. And fuck, you swear that you can feel your heart shattering at the sight before you. You walk forward quietly, taking as big of strides as you can, and sit down by his side. He jumps when you graze your hand across his shell, as though he hadn’t realized you’d come in at all. His breath stills when your eyes meet, and the look on his face can only be described as pure fear and… vulnerability. He doesn’t breathe but his tears continue to fall, leaving trails of hurt as they run from his eyes, down to his jaw, and onto the plush covers. His eyes dart around your face for a moment before landing on your fallen hand. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t breathe. Your heart aches.
“What’s wrong?” You whisper.
He doesn’t respond, eyes still glued to your hand. The silence is deafening, and it only serves to fuel your worry. His fingers twitch before curling back into themselves: just as you’re about to press again, he speaks. It’s so quiet that you hardly catch it, but you catch it nonetheless. “It’s nothing,” comes his reply.
“Donnie, please,” you plead, “I want to help. I get it if you don’t want to talk about it, but please, let me help.”
“I just,” he sighs, “I don’t… Why? Why do you stay?”
“Why do I stay?” You ask, “What do you mean?”
“Why do you stay with me? I don’t- I don’t get it! You could be living some great, normal life with a human, and yet you choose me, and I don’t understand why. Like, I, I just…” He fumbles for a moment, trying to find the right words. “I… you’ll never have a normal life with me. And I want to give that to you so bad, but I’m not… I’m not human. I don’t know why you would want to stay with me.” He all but collapses into his hands as the last syllable leaves his lips, only to scratch at the new wave of tears running down his face.
“D, look at me.”
He does so, slowly, but does so nonetheless. You cup his face gently, wiping away his tears with your thumbs. “Donatello, I stay with you because I love you.” You kiss his cheek. “I don’t want a normal life, and I never have.”
Kiss.
“You’re smart.”
Kiss.
“Funny.”
Kiss.
“Brave as all hell.”
Kiss.
“When I see other couples in the street, I smile. Not because I want what they have, but it makes me excited to come back home to you! To listen to you talk about your newest discovery, or your newest invention. To dance among the stars with you, or to walk between worlds with you! I love the way my hand feels in yours, and I love curling up to you in the dead of winter. I love how fucking nerdy you sound when you talk about WoW, how your eyes light up when you get passionate, and the way you talk with your hands. I love your laugh, and the way you smirk when you’re trying really hard not to smile. I love you because you’re you, Donnie. I don’t want normalcy: I want you. ”
And this time, he kisses you. His hands move like lightning to cup your face, and he kisses you like a man possessed. And in between breaths, whispers of “I love you” float out to encircle you both, like down feathers in the wind.
[I hope this was okay!! I had a lot of fun writing this <3 Thank you for the kind words!]
#donatello x reader#tmnt imagine#TMNT x reader#rottmnt Donatello x reader#tmnt donatello x reader#rottmnt donnie x reader#tmnt donnie x reader#donatello hamato x reader#angst#fluff
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chasing the sun
synopsis: there’s something screaming in familiarity—in mourning—deep in his soul at the sight of you, a complete stranger. this is the price you pay for resurrection, the sun whispers as it rises.
pairing: takami keigo x fem!reader
genre: angst with a happy ending, reincarnation au
warnings: mentions and depictions of death, major character deaths, mentions of war (+ description of a battlefield scene), injuries, blood.
word count: 11.7k
a/n: happy (extremely belated) birthday, bird boy. and aaaa my baby’s here, she’s finally here! i’ve been working on this fic for a little over two months now, and i’m so happy to see it fully fleshed out! thank you to @dimplesum for beta reading, and the tumblr chaos server for listening to me yell all the time abt this fic :’) disclaimer, i did as much research as i could, but any historical depictions are not 100% historically accurate and i have taken some creative liberty, so please take the historical scenes with a grain of salt!
important: there will be songs linked throughout the fic to be played in accordance with the scene, i do hope you listen to them for the full experience! it is okay if the ost ends before the scene as that is also on purpose. the beginning of the song will start with 【 ☀︎ 】 with a link to the song. with that said, i hope you enjoy, and happy reading!
crossposted on Ao3
【 ☀︎ 】
Dawn finds Keigo, the youngest government official in the empire, stumbling upon a lone concubine in the eastern lotus garden.
He’d been searching for solitude, away from the viper’s nest of samurai-turned-aristocrats, strutting around the castle with their now-useless weapons strapped to their hips, discussing poetry and politics instead of battle and war tactics.
It’d been disgustingly easy for them to make the switch from warrior to bureaucrat, taking the status boost in stride. Those who couldn’t, they stayed with their lords if they were lucky. The warriors who weren’t… Keigo would need an abacus to count the ones who weren’t so lucky, the countless rumors and reports of wandering rōnin with familiar names never failing to reach over the palace walls to get to him.
(Oh, what he would give to join them.)
Of course, he’d been intending to brood ponder over this in the seclusion of the garden he’d discovered a few days ago, staring at the green buds of the young lotuses in the water until his head spun. The sight of the concubine sitting in his spot (that he was certain was too secluded to be found) told him fate had other plans, however.
He cleared his throat and forced down the grimace once he saw the concubine jump, startled, before trying her best to smoothly turn and bow without looking too flustered.
“Good morning, madam.”
“Good morning—”
He smiled through the static in his brain at the mention of his surname, messily tacked to the honorific that he would never get used to.
That name… it’s not mine. Don’t call me that.
A discordant mess of jumbled kanji that sounded nothing like the powerfully elegant names in the court. The ill-fitting characters standing out like an eyesore on his documents, the syllables falling awkwardly off the tongue in conversation.
Wholly fitting for an outsider like him, really.
The mention of that name grated something terrible in him, and he settled for keeping his teeth grit into a smile. A sheltered concubine wouldn’t know, of course she wouldn’t know. Practically no one did, so he had no one to fault but his own cursed sensitivity to a name he wanted to burn.
“Do you mind if I join you?” The slight twitch in her demure smile was answer enough, but he’d set aside time for this escape, and damn if he was going to let it go to waste.
“Of course not. Please, don’t mind me, my lord.”
He dipped his head in thanks and you bowed in return, the silence hanging in the air settling into something stiff and awkward.
A minute passed…
Then another…
Then five…
Keigo was going to go mad at this rate. Neither of you had any intention of leaving the rare pocket of seclusion, and the competitive whisper in the corner of his mind told him that leaving first meant conceding, meant losing.
(In his world, losing meant death.)
Keigo’s had enough of losing in life despite his dumb luck, thank you very much.
So, he did what he knew he did best. He talked. Shattering the awkward silence in an effort to coax the tranquil silence he was searching for back into the little gazebo by the pond. Maybe if he ran his mouth long enough, you’d get tired and leave.
“You’re a new face in the palace.”
With an expectant gaze, he watched the telltale shift from awkward to apprehensive, the rigidness of your stature sharply contrasting the flowing brocade of your kimono as you looked back at him with a too-sharp gaze before casting your eyes away to the green buds in the water. Had he been any slower, Keigo would’ve thought that the conflicted expression you quickly smoothed over was solemn (it was anything but).
“I would say the same to you, my lord, but every face in this castle is a new face to me.” You tilted your head with a thin-lipped smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Although… I’m sure an official who just arrived at the castle for his yearly residence would be an especially new face. Please excuse my rudeness.”
Keigo blinked. Once, twice, his jaw relaxing into a disbelieving smile at the sight of your steely gaze bright with a challenge and a smile sharper than the blades at his waist, the unsaid words ringing clearly.
Two could play at this game.
Well, now, this was new.
Perhaps it was your defiance that remained steadfast in this castle, or the blissful ignorance that made you one of the few to look at him straight on instead of down your nose. A little voice whispered that this would change in due time, the politics and power struggles confined within the castle never failing to break down even the most resilient. Those that didn’t know how to play the game correctly simply… vanished.
“Someone’s well-informed, I see.” He folded his hands behind his back, his wish for tranquility long forgotten. “I heard a new concubine has just entered the castle as well. A consolation prize, of sorts, from the farthest reaches of the country. Of course, as I’ve been gone for a year and have only been here for four, I’m not too sure.” He flicks his gaze to you, accepting your challenge with a knife-sharp smile of his own.
“I am curious as to what this concubine’s name is, however.”
You arched a brow, the thin-lipped smile widening into something sweet (that looked better on a fox rather than a beautiful concubine), and you bowed. Any trace of that stiff apprehensiveness dissolved into a graceful fluidity that seemed to disappear within the rippling silk of your kimono.
“Lady Y/N. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
To this day, he’ll never admit how surprised he was at your reverence, nor how his heart did a funny little flip in his chest when you giggled at his flustered response. What kind of fool gave respect to a commoner picked up from the slums?
You. Except you were no fool, and maybe that’s why he kept coming back like a moth to flame.
Time passed, and he found himself in that little garden day after day, morning after morning. Listening to the concubine who told vivid stories of lands he could only dream of, foods he found himself craving, and tales of warriors past.
The conversations at dawn soon turned into stories of the past, the laments of the present, and dreams of a bleak future. With delicate hands and gently prying words, you two unlocked every bar and lock you’d put over your souls and allowed yourselves to lay them bare for each other, the intimacy of a bond forged in secrets and solidarity far stronger than any alliance or contract.
You two confided in each other in that garden, staring at the dew on the lilypads as you two whispered how you didn’t belong in the palace. How the confines of grand walls with ears and eyes were no place for the adopted commoner and a concubine far from home. Two people in this big world who were just lucky enough, fortunate enough to end up within this lavish palace, your lives guaranteed splendor and comfort.
Then again—you two would share a conspiratorial laugh—maybe you two were unfortunate instead. What was splendor and comfort when you had to constantly watch for a knife in your back or poison in your cup? When a single misstep could cost you your life?
Conversations shared with you, the concubine with a sharp tongue and even sharper wit, were the most fulfilling he’s had in ages. Maybe it was the sense of formality that the intimacy of the waterside gazebo stripped away, or the unraveling realization that he hasn’t breathed this freely in ages, that he was looking forward to these moments in the morning. The intimacy shared in the garden he selfishly liked to call his own little world.
Keigo catches the smile you hide behind your sleeve when he steps into the gazebo, and he realizes you’re being selfish, too.
He didn’t know how the conversation got here, he didn’t know why he had a hairpin meant for you tucked into his sleeve. All he knew was that when it came to you, he was helpless to the whims of rambling and buying a pretty hairpin made of red jade because it reminded him of a sharp wit with a pretty smile.
“I live for this country and I die for this country. Well, not that there’s anything much to die for anyway.” Keigo’s laugh is empty, and your melancholic gaze even emptier. A fog had blown in that morning, covering the pond in a soft cover of white, and your soft voice and softer touch on his arm (careful, almost) silenced his dry laughter and left his throat even drier.
“What you would die for is also an excellent reason to live, is it not?”
Your words, whispered into the stillness of the moment, resonated so loudly within his soul and forced a shaky breath out of his lungs as he gazed in awe at you. At the soft, ethereal glow in the fog cast by the rising sun breaking through the clouds, the scent of bloomed lotuses wafting in on the breeze that rustles the dangling pieces of your hair ornaments. He is weak to whims when it comes to you, so he pulls out the hairpin burning a hole in his sleeve to slip into your hair with shaking hands unbefitting a swordsman. Keigo watches your eyes sparkle like the gem in your hair, and his heart lifts with hope as he whispers his devotion into the warm morning, carried by the wind into a sea of blooms.
“I’ll live for you, then.”
And with a smile, you fall in love.
(Keigo falls even harder.)
【 ☀︎ 】
He should have known.
“I don’t know what I was expecting from the son of a criminal.”
He really should have known.
“What was that fool thinking, taking a street rat like you in all those years ago?”
Honestly, he’d like an answer to that, too. Too bad the old man was dead and left him to inherit a position he didn’t even want. To think he’d agree with the emperor for once in his short life.
“Tsk, a son will follow in his father’s footsteps, after all. A grave in Kozukappara should suit him well.”
Keigo should be concerned that he couldn’t feel how the coarse dirt dug into his knees anymore, his cheek still aching from where the guard had punched him.
(Okay, yes, he deserved it, but he could’ve done without tasting iron.)
The sadistic glee in the guard’s face after he landed that “disciplinary strike” told him otherwise. With a bitter grimace, he spat red into the dirt.
How long has he been kneeling here? Minutes? Hours? The words echoing over and over in his head pulled him away from his present reality, bringing him back to the blur that was the past two days.
(Three? He couldn’t be sure, time passes oddly in a prison cell.)
The servants whispering about a concubine being expelled from the harem, the handmaid being promoted to concubine suspiciously quickly, and sudden memories of too-loud rustling coming from the treeline that he’d foolishly brushed off. All of it culminated in the form of palace guards dragging him from his study all the way to the harem to throw him at the emperor’s feet.
“Could the street rat not keep his hands off the women of the court? Plenty to pick back where you came from.”
Keigo wanted to vomit at the cloying stench of sake, unpleasant memories rushing to the forefront of his mind and forcing his limbs to lock from age-old fear. Not like he could use them anyway, with heavy hands on each shoulder pinning his knees to the tatami and his blades having long been tossed away in the struggle to drag him here.
“Oh, my lord, haven’t you heard?” A sickeningly saccharine voice pulled the man’s attention away to coo at the woman curled into his side, cradling a bottle of warmed sake. “Apparently the small-time nobleman who adopted him, did it knowing he was the son of that criminal you were having trouble with all that time ago.”
The grip forcing his head down loosened from the resounding laughter that rippled around the room, just enough to allow Keigo to glare at the loose-lipped concubine. Your opportunistic maidservant who’d been all too willing to take your place in the harem, having taken her chance and fleeing with it. Her tittering giggles and power-drunk grin grated his ears, and he kept glaring. Daring her to look back, to look him in the eye without feeling an ounce of guilt for what she had done.
Almost as if she heard his furious challenge, she took a glance at the man pinned to the floor (trying to look down her nose like she had been looked down on. Pathetic fool.) only to jump at the righteous fury burning in his gaze, fear clouding her conscience for a precious moment.
More, Keigo urged, rage bitter on his tongue, Guilt, shame, despair, all of it.
I hope you regret this for the rest of your life. Lament, as punishment for ruining hers—
“Don’t assume what I have and haven’t heard, woman,” The drunkard grunted, holding his cup out for her to pour with shaking hands and a meek surrender, “But, the man was losing his mind from age. What was that fool thinking, taking a dirty brat like this in all those years ago? Too useless to bear a son nor keep a wife, so he had to stoop low enough to take in a criminal’s son from the slums.”
Righteous fury welled up in his chest, and his body moved before his brain could catch up, spit landing at the emperor’s feet. Almost immediately thereafter, his head whipped to the side, cheek smarting from the sharp strike the guard’s knuckles had indented into his swelling cheek. He grit his teeth as that same cheek came down on the tatami, someone pressing his head into the ground.
“Years upon years of trying to force yourself into nobility, and you’d think you’d learn some respect along the way.”
Had he not been the one with his face pressed into the ground, Keigo would’ve laughed at the shade of fury-red the man’s face was turning. Sake did not treat him well. The concubines at his side, fearing for their lives, immediately rushed to whisper soothing words and calming pleas. Somehow, it worked, and he reclined back into his seat with a heavy sigh, draining the sake in one gulp.
“The son of a criminal shall inevitably become a criminal. Now that I think about it, this is a wonderful opportunity to get rid of an eyesore. A grave in Kozukappara should suit him well.” A sadistic grin split his lips around the cup, chortling with laughter at his own (terrible) wit. “Being buried next to his criminal father! What a filial son!”
The table shook from the force of a fine porcelain cup slamming down on it, as if the emperor were stamping his death certificate right then and there.
(He was.)
“Get him out of my sight. The next time I want to see his head is on the gates of Kozukappara.”
Keigo the official had died in that room, and the man that was dragged out by his shoulders left the castle as a criminal.
“Done saying your prayers?”
Slowly, he looked up from the white paper fan set in front of him in place of the tantō that should’ve been there for his use (obligatory seppuku, his muddled brain supplied with annoyingly familiar haughtiness, so the ex-warrior could die a warrior. What a joke—) to the man he’d chosen to be his executioner. Normally, he would’ve snapped back with something witty, something sharp, but going days without water wasn’t treating him well. A heavy sigh, and the man ran a frustrated thumb down the bright blue wrap of his katana hilt.
“The concubine, of all women? An imperial concubine, at that. I’d expect you to know better than that, my friend.”
Ah, the static in his head was a little stronger today. Wonderful.
“I thought I knew better, too. At least I get to die to someone with a steady hand.”
He scoffed, thumb running over the blue hilt again. Keigo idly remembered seeing the man rub his burn-leathered skin the same way countless times, the anxious habit having stubbornly ingrained itself into his being since childhood.
“Must you be so dark?”
“When am I not?” He managed to muster up a slow grin. “I’m hurt, I thought my closest companion would’ve known this after years of keeping swords out of each other’s backs.”
The heavy gong announcing his execution sounded, and he watched his best friend’s melancholic gaze glaze over into soulless steel that mirrored the blade drawn from its hilt. Keigo dipped his head with a solemn smile and shut his eyes in resignation.
I really… should’ve known…
“Keigo!”
Everything paused for a breath, in shock at your shout breaking the stillness of the moment. He didn’t have to lift his head to know who was crying out, trying to delay the inevitable certainty. A sharp smile and an even sharper tongue reduced to nothing but cries and desperation.
“...I’ll continue.” The executioner ignored your desperate “No!” as he shifted his stance, scarred hands steady as he placed the blade against the back of his neck despite the pain Keigo knew he was in.
It would’ve been nice to hold you in his arms, at least once—
No, for eternity.
The blade came down and, like a lotus facing the sun in supplication, you screamed your despair into the heavens.
That day, the blood red sunset matched the crimson pooling on the execution ground’s floor.
【 ☀︎ 】
Dawn finds Private First Class Takami Keigo marching into a small city on the way to the front lines, rifle slung over his shoulder and feet aching.
They’ve been marching through the night, and for the first time in his life, he found himself grateful for Japan’s humid summer nights. He’d take sweat over losing toes from frostbite any day.
But, he decides, sighing in relief along with the rest of the company at the sight of a town once they crested the hill, there was nothing like the relief of a warm bed and any food other than the tasteless military rations.
“Tired already?” The low voice beside him would’ve made him jump had it not been so familiar.
“Aw, what’s this? Is Touya-kun worried for little old me?” Keigo shot a grin at the man marching next to him and dodged the elbow that he aimed at his side with a short laugh.
“A tired soldier is a dead soldier.” A pause, and the next response came backed with a dry laugh. “Not like it’d affect you and your monstrous instincts, anyway.”
“Yes, as we’ve been told a thousand times, General.” The teasing tilt to his voice came easy, and he let his best friend elbow him this time, too busy laughing at his annoyance.
Should he have been a little more worried of the captain catching him messing around? Yes, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. Judging by the restless shifting rippling through the soldiers, no one was too worried about getting a scolding when they were so close to a warm meal and rest.
“Think the inn will be big enough to house all of us? Another night sleeping on the floor doesn’t sound all that nice to me.”
Touya scoffed as if his question was the stupidest thing he’d heard all day, keeping his gaze straight as he adjusted the rifle on his shoulder, the company shifting around them into formation as they approached the gates.
“You’re complaining like it’s anything new to us.”
“Harsh.”
The conversation faded after that, the rough dirt under his boots soon transitioning into the packed earth of the town’s main street as residents gathered to whisper and gawk at the soldiers passing through, the sight of their uniforms a jarring eyesore in this sleepy town.
A sleepy, familiar town.
Keigo’s mind was spinning. His restless gaze kept flicking around the too-familiar buildings and shops and people that remained after all these years. The restaurant with the broken kitchen window that was too easy to sneak into, the grocer who still kept his trash bin too close to the alley, the old woman sitting in front of her izakaya who always had ginger candy and a meal to give.
They slowed to a stop in front of the large inn, and he stared up at the building that looked much smaller than he remembered, the interior much less grand than he’d imagined it to be as they filed their way in, and he found himself in the room he once dreamed of sleeping in. There, Keigo sat in near disbelief, on the futon that wasn’t as soft as he thought it would’ve been.
“How time flies, huh?” He looked up to see Touya dropping his pack next to his futon and sitting down across from him with a melancholy grin.
There was too much Keigo wanted to say, nostalgia bitter in the back of his throat, so he settled for a matching smile.
“Old Man Yasutaro never got around to fixing that boarded up window.”
Touya barked out a surprised laugh, Keigo’s smile widening into a self-satisfied grin.
“You ever think he did that on purpose? He always did stock too much food.”
“Are you kidding?” Keigo shuddered at the phantom pain of the beatings he earned. “He was scary whenever he caught us, there’s no way mean ol’ Yasutaro would do all that just for a pair of orphans on the street.”
“Mm, I don’t know, he was always pretty sweet to Granny Tamayo, so anything that made him look good in her book.” Touya leaned back on his arms, the melancholy melting into the ease of bittersweet nostalgia. It was easier to smile through the painful memories rather than dwell on the past, so Keigo let himself toss his head back with a laugh.
“God, her ginger candy was the best.”
“You sure it was the candy? Or the granddaughter who always snuck an extra piece to you?” That earned Touya a frustrated noise of protest and a half-hearted kick he dodged.
“That was ages ago!”
“And you still react like a little boy!”
Keigo groaned, burying his face into his hands as if that would tune out Touya’s cackling laughter. It was short moments like this that took the weight off his shoulders, the murmurs of public dissent, the leaked plans of a planned riot, the magnitude of his actions tomorrow morning.
(Civilians. Of all things, why did it have to be civilians?)
He suddenly pushed himself to his feet, the heavy weight having pushed itself back onto his shoulders and slotting the familiar hum of alertness back into place. Touya gave him a knowing look that he, decidedly, ignored in favor of getting out before his mind swallowed him whole.
“Dinner is supposed to be in a bit, we should get going.”
“Wonderful job of changing the subject, really.”
“Wonderful job of being annoying.”
Touya dodged another swipe of the leg, laughing at his displeasure as he stood to follow.
“Why thank you, I try.” His grin widened with a certain glint in his eye that Keigo found himself dreading. “Now let’s get going, I heard some of the guys are at Granny Tamayo’s izakaya.”
“What?”
“My, isn’t that little Keigo? And little Touya?”
Keigo faltered halfway through the entrance, smoothing his grimace into a smile as he watched the old lady totter over from her seat with all the coddling of a grandmother. The soldiers within earshot (who were already drinking and eating away. It was barely sunset—) paused to gawk and grin at the endearing interaction.
“Not so little anymore, Granny.”
“I’ll say. Are you eating alright? Is the military treating you well?”
“Granny!”
“What’s this? Speedy and Torchface have some history here?” Keigo kept his smile smooth, only shifting it just the slightest bit into what he knew would look like a sheepish grin instead of the pained grimace underneath the surface. Boisterous laughter that only alcohol could bring rippled around the spacious izakaya, the men cracking jokes over drinks and food.
“Careful calling him Torchface, he has the temper to match.”
Ah, there it is. Touya shouldered past him to stalk towards the offending table with a scarily wide grin, pulling the loose-lipped rookie into a chokehold, his wide grin unmoving.
“‘Has a temper’ my ass, you’re just jealous that a guy with a bunch of burn scars has an easier time with women than you idiots.”
The laughter only grew louder, Granny Tamayo’s expression softening at the interaction before turning back to Keigo with a nostalgic smile.
“Not so little… I see.” She motioned to the table Touya had made a space for himself at, shoving the rookie (who was still in a chokehold, poor kid) aside to make room for him. “Take a seat, dear, and the drinks will be right out.”
The too-loud laughter and incessantly clinking glasses filled the space up with ear-grating noise, and Keigo wanted to leave. Search for peace and solitude in the quiet streets in a way that was strangely familiar.
(For a fleeting moment, he thought a quiet garden would be nice.)
However, he’d rather eat with the company of drunks rather than the void of his own mind and the horrors silence tended to bring, so the migraine starting to brew in the back of his head was a small price to pay. As was the heavy arm slung over his shoulder from some random soldier, alcohol-loosened and heavy, and the awkward conversation he found himself following along with perfectly tailored humor.
“Alright, I have two beers as well as a few rounds of edamame and—”
The familiar voice stopped short, and Keigo felt his heart stop in tandem. Slowly, he looked up and saw the girl who used to sneak out an extra candy when her grandmother wasn’t looking, now a woman in the izakaya uniform balancing trays in one hand and two mugs in the other.
“...Keigo?”
Almost as if the locked gates had been thrown open, a new rush of memories past had overcome him. Jaunts through the town disguised as adventures, clumsily dancing around an old gramophone and calling it a waltz, and the start of blossoming love. Keigo simply smiled, easygoing and familiar, like it hadn’t been years since you saw him run to the military with Touya the first chance they had, drawn by the promise of food and shelter. Like he hadn’t left a malnourished boy and come back a man with more scars than skin.
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
“‘Been a while.’” You rolled your eyes, setting down the mug in front of him with a huff. “The two most important people in my life run off to join the army without so much as a word, and that’s what you say?”
His words stopped halfway up his throat the moment he saw Granny Tamayo come up behind you to pinch you on the arm, the half-formed response morphing into a laugh as he watched you flinch back with a surprised (and betrayed) yelp.
“Y/N, darling, don’t be rude to the customers.” You pouted, rubbing at the sore spot on your upper arm.
“Yes, Grandmother.”
“It’s fine, Granny. Nothing new, right?” At the sight of his cheeky smile, the old woman scoffs, something endearing, before nudging him out of his seat despite your noise of protest.
“Well, since you two seem to be talking of nothing but the past, why don’t you go take a walk down memory lane?”
“Wha— Grandmother! There’s still customers—”
“Kaede can handle it just fine! Shoo, shoo, get out of my hair.”
Without missing a beat, Granny Tamayo smoothly plucked the trays from your hands and nudged you two towards the door as the soldiers watching roared with laughter and cooed jokes at the two “childhood lovers”. Keigo turned towards Touya, almost desperately, in a futile search for— what? Escape? Wasn’t he looking for escape in the first place?
“Wait, Granny, come on. Touya’s part of this too, isn’t he?”
“Don’t drag me into this, a trip down memory lane isn’t for me!” With an arm still slung over the now-wheezing rookie’s shoulder, Touya raised the cup of sake he’d ordered as if in toast. Whether it was to Keigo’s mortification, or to the potential opportunities this meant, Keigo didn’t want to know.
Probably both.
(...Probably the former, if he were to be honest with himself.)
A flurry of drunken laughter and lighthearted jokes, half-hearted protests that fell on deaf ears, and insistent pushing at his back later, he found himself standing outside the izakaya, blinking up at the full moon before looking over at you.
“...Did we just get kicked out?”
“I think we did.” You snorted, scuffing a mark into the dirt path with your heel, and Keigo wanted the earth to crack open and swallow him whole. What was he supposed to do? Stuck with the remnants of a rekindling love, the awkwardness that tended to come with years of estrangement and words that failed him when it came to you.
Well, there’s really only one thing he could do.
Talk.
“So, what’s new with you?” He immediately cringed at his choice of words, forcing himself to school his expression over into an easygoing smile instead of recoiling like he so desperately wanted to do.
Nice going there, Keigo, really.
“...Same old.” Your quiet answer snapped him out of his thoughts, and he tilted his head, almost like he was beckoning you to continue. “Same old town, same old job, same old life. I pretty much walked the path everyone knew I was going to go on as the granddaughter of the izakaya’s owner.”
You looked up with a sheepish grin, the bright moonlight casting the world (and you) in a silver glow, and Keigo felt his heart leap into his throat.
“Not the most exciting to a man from the military, huh?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say I’ve seen a lot—” Keigo rubbed at the identification tag hidden under his clothes by force of habit, the leather cord heavy around his neck. He has seen a lot. Too much, to be exact, but how would he even begin to explain the horrors of man to someone… “normal”? How could he?
For someone whose wit and silver tongue helped him survive all these years, he was awfully tongue-tied tonight. Or maybe it was just you, and the surreal lightness settling into his soul that had him stumbling over his words.
“But you’ve seen enough?” You finished his sentence with a wry grin, and the surprised laugh found itself past his lips before he could catch it. How could he forget? You were always, always a step ahead of him. Back then and even now.
“Enough of my barracks and Touya’s face? Yeah, definitely.” You swatted his arm with a huff, and the familiar action made the next laugh come a little easier, his chest a little lighter as the awkwardness slowly dissipated into something… comfortable. Normal.
“You know that’s not what I meant!”
“Well, that’s your answer, Y/N. Don’t know what else to tell you,” He shrugged in mock ignorance, and you groaned, going back to worrying at the deepening scuff in the dirt.
“What, so, we both had boring lives?”
Far from boring.
“...Yeah, I guess so.”
You pursed your lips and stared out at the quiet street, the beat of silence almost bordering on awkward by the time you broke it with a resolute sigh, starting to walk forward into the moonlight.
“Well, I guess we’ll have to make up for it somehow.”
“And how would you do that?”
“By going back to when life wasn’t so boring,” You hummed, spinning to face him and grandly spreading your arms, as if you were presenting the lantern-lit street to him, “C’mon! Tonight, this main street is memory lane!”
“Aren’t you taking me out of town at one point, though?”
“Oh, hush. Are you coming or not?”
“I’m coming, coming.”
Oh, your smile was radiant, and Keigo had to force himself to keep moving instead of gaping like a fool.
(Was it possible for him to make you smile like that all the time?)
For the next hour, time seemed to stop. The moon stood frozen in the sparkling sky, watching two star-crossed lovers go around town, laughing and reminiscing on what could’ve been. What could be, if Keigo were to be bold. You took him down Main Street as promised, and he found it hard to relate to the memories you spoke of, associating each store with scornful stares and pitiful ignorance. Eventually, you two looped around to the outskirts of town. To the river that looked more like a creek now, and the quaint houses and maze of alleyways. To familiarity.
He smiles as he watches you skip rocks in the creek, laughs when you wrinkle your nose at the dog that always seems to only bark when you two pass by Old Man Yasutaro’s gate, and revels in the memories.
“You still suck!”
“Hey! It’s not like we skip rocks all the time in the military.”
You merely rolled your eyes and continued to skip ahead, the slow and awkward trudge from before revived into the enthusiastic step he remembered, fueled by the joys of nostalgia and escape.
This, Keigo realizes, is nostalgia.
Not the pain of remembering a past he wanted to forget, not looking at alleyways to remember what used to be his childhood, not thinking of the shops as someplace otherworldly. Rather, it was this. The joy of reminiscing on good times. The joy of breathing new life into old memories.
The joy he now knew was to be found in you.
“Hey.” Your voice pulled him from his thoughts, and he looked up to see you grinning, the moonlight illuminating something akin to mischief in your eyes. “Remember that old gramophone we could never figure out when we were little?”
“You mean you could never figure out. I didn’t want to touch it because Granny Tamayo is a scary, scary woman.”
And a dirty street orphan’s hands had no place on such an expensive thing.
You rolled your eyes and he chuckled, following along anyway as you set off down the path with a new purpose. The route was familiar, and Keigo already had an idea of where this was going, but who was he to speak when you were nearly buzzing with excitement?
“What I mean to say is: I figured it out, so—” You spun in place again, taking his hand, and his heart damn near stopped, “—would you like this dance? To some actual music, this time.”
“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you? A proper lady needs the proper etiquette, after all.” His cheeky grin betrayed the politeness of his words, and you scoffed, tugging him along.
“Like you would ask me first.” Keigo’s tongue stalled around a response, scrambling for a proper comeback because you were right. Deep down, he knew that he still never would’ve asked you first for anything. It wasn’t his place. First, as a kid on the street compared to the granddaughter of the izakaya owner. Now, as a man with blood on his hands compared to an innocent civilian, untainted by the shadows of war.
Who was he to ask anything from a normal person?
“Lead the way, then.”
There was that radiant grin again, brimming with excitement and sending him reeling. Keigo couldn’t help but let your enthusiasm rub off on him as he followed you to the little communal courtyard behind Granny Tamayo’s home, where he knew that she liked to keep that Western gramophone to play for guests. You broke away to go and try and work the old machine, mumbling to yourself as you fiddled with the knobs and rifled through the records filed away in the ornate cabinet it was sitting on.
He took the chance to look around the empty courtyard, struck with the realization that it hadn’t changed at all in the years he was gone. He left all those years ago, only to return to a town that seemed almost frozen in time. It was too far from the cities for all the modern inventions to catch up with it, so the only things that changed were, well, the people. Keigo most of all. What if he hadn’t—
The sudden burst of music and your shout of victory cut off his wandering train of thought, and you walked back into his line of vision with a triumphant grin.
“I still don’t know how to fix the tempo, so the song’s a little slow. You’ll have to forgive me for that.” You offered up your hand and tilted your head, still smiling. “May I have this dance?”
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”
“Like you’d ask me first.”
【 ☀︎ 】
Keigo grinned in well-earned defeat, and his hand slipped into yours with the other on your waist. The music swelled, and he took the first step.
One, two, three, one, two, three…
With too-slow, clumsy steps, the two of you slowly began waltzing your way around the small courtyard. You still kind of didn’t know how to work the gramophone—the song almost eerily slow, despite the years of fiddling—but that didn’t matter in the face of the giddy smiles shared, your soft laughs when he spun you in a flash of spontaneity, and the nostalgia of old times.
Before, he was a scrawny kid on the street who clumsily tried to follow the steps of the pretty girl playing a song on her father’s gramophone. Tomorrow, he would be Private First Class Takami Keigo, fighting for his life on the battlefield. Tonight, he would be normal again, slow dancing to Clair de Lune playing off an old, off-beat gramophone with you in his arms, mourning a start he didn’t get to have.
(As normal as a kid scrounging for scraps on the street could’ve been.)
Your voice, soft and wavering, broke the stillness of the moment, as if it were something taboo that shouldn’t have been uttered into existence at all.
“Keigo?”
“Yes, beautiful?”
You flushed at the endearment, the next words shattering his illusion of happiness within nostalgia with the renewed vigor of confidence in the face of the impossible.
“Will you come home?”
Home.
A simple word, really. And yet it dropped like a stone in his chest. Home meant a roof over his head. Home meant warm food on the table. Home meant a simple life in a sleepy rural town. Home meant the promise of a new beginning.
To you, “home” probably meant nothing more than the place you had known all your life.
To him, “home” meant you.
So, like a dreamer in love, he answered with all the confidence of a fool.
“Yeah... I will. I don’t care how long it’ll take me, but I’ll come home.”
He thought the shaky lilt to his voice would’ve given him away, or the way his step faltered in the already clumsy waltz as if trying to step around what he knew should’ve been the answer.
Instead, you laughed. Something soft, and let him spin you once more.
“Well, I’ve already waited a couple years, what’s a little more waiting?”
Keigo had to keep himself from double checking if this was real. Dancing with you in the moonlight as he tried to step around the reality of that answer with all the awkward grace of a scared child.
One, two, three, one, two, three…
Truth be told, the both of you knew the answer long before you had pushed the question into desperate existence, searching for a shred of hope. That his simple answer should have been an realistic “I don’t know” or a pessimistic “no promises”, instead of a foolish “yes.”
Instead, he slowed the waltz to a sway, pulling you close to both ingrain the feeling of you into his soul and to hopefully hide the resigned melancholy of a soldier being carted off to uncertainty.
And, for a traitorous moment, Keigo wondered.
Dreamed, even.
What would it have been like to have a “normal” life? Instead of grasping the hand of desperation, would he have grown out of the side alleys and homes made of boxes into a “respectable” man? Maybe he could’ve gotten a job at the grocer’s, at Old Yasutaro’s restaurant, or maybe even Granny Tamayo’s izakaya. Could he have—he pulled you closer, pressing a ghost of a kiss to your temple—could he have courted you the “right” way? Brought you flowers and honey-sweet words of praise and promises of a happy future, instead of a single night dancing in the moonlight with a brittle promise hanging in the tense air that the both of you clung onto like a lifeline. A promise that Keigo wasn’t even sure he could fulfill.
He would later come to regret this single moment. Of this, he was sure.
(But, as you lifted your head from his chest with glassy eyes and a shaky smile, he knew he wasn’t alone in this regret.)
Keigo knew the words that you wished to let fall into the night air, in hopes of making that brittle promise tangible. Of giving life to a bright future with three little words. The reality crawled up his throat like poison, bitter and cloying, something that he knew shouldn’t be said. Keigo settled for gently wrapping his hand around your head to pull you closer, filtering the harsh truth into something a little softer, the bittersweet tone marking the unspoken truth as a reality instead of the dreams of a future.
One… two… three…
“Don’t,” He muttered, heart tightening as he felt you go rigid in his arms, “I know. Please, God, I know—”
You slowly relaxed in his arms with all the bitter acceptance of a night before battle, and he murmured the next words into another ghost of a kiss. A whisper against your lips, seen only by the fading notes of a song in the moonlight.
“—but don’t.”
【 ☀︎ 】
Keigo’s breath was rattling, ears ringing with war cries, death wails, and everything in between. The once-blue noon sky was now a startling haze of ash gray, thick with the choking scent of the world burning.
He couldn’t even tell where the carnage started or ended anymore.
(Would it ever end?)
How long has it been since the first shot?
(Too long.)
Would he live to see the sunset?
(Of all times to worry about this, why now?)
The incessant drill of artillery fire was nothing new to him, as was the stench of the battlefield that could only be described as death. What was new, was something that pushed his aching body to keep moving, the autopilot state he usually entered backed with something raw. Something like fear.
Something like the will to survive.
The pain that set his nerves on fire has long since faded, all the pain of countless wounds blending together into something numbed by the adrenaline of survival. Were the wet patches on his uniform sweat? Blood? Both? He couldn’t tell anymore, all he knew was survival and the persistent voice whispering deadly distraction in the back of his mind.
Civilians. You’re fighting civilians, you mur—
The skin of his back prickled, the telltale whistling of something flying screeched in his ears, and his reflexes yanked him to dive out of the way before his mind could catch up. Not even a second later, another explosive detonated behind him and heat blazed across his back. His nerves screamed fresh pain into his senses and he grit his teeth, ignoring the concerning sound of sizzling over the ringing in his ears in favor of ducking into cover, collapsing against the wall of a destroyed building.
Since when did regular people know how to make bombs?!
In the next breath, someone else had ducked into the small shelter he’d found in this hellscape of a city.
Well, the remains of one. All hell broke loose once the other side brought homemade explosives into the fray and now, as he stared at the burning and destruction, Keigo wondered if those Westerners who muttered meaningless blessings whenever they passed were right.
If this “Hell” they spoke of really was on Earth.
He turned his head, suddenly sluggish, to the man that had joined him in the makeshift cover, and grinned at the familiar face.
“Hey, man.”
(Maybe giving his body a chance to slow down was a mistake.)
Touya ignored his exhausted greeting, instead opting to yank a rag from his pouch as he pulled Keigo to sit up so he could press the rag into the deep gashes the shrapnel had gouged into his back. Keigo immediately groaned in protest at the stinging pain, despite how necessary he knew it was.
“Fucking— how did you even survive that?”
“Dunno,” He let out a weak laugh, “Don’t think I will—”
“Finish that sentence and I’ll kill you myself.” Despite his harsh threat, Touya pressed the slowly darkening rag deeper into his wound. A desperate (futile) attempt to stop the life pooling onto the floor underneath them, steadily flowing from the deep gashes in his back and all the other wounds peppering his body.
“Isn’t that the exact opposite—” He hissed in pain at the pressure on his wounds, “—of what you want?”
“Shut up.”
“You know you don’t want me doing that.”
(He was right. Keigo running his mouth meant that he was breathing. Meant that he was alive.)
Touya pressed his lips into a thin line, Keigo blearily tracking the way his burn scars pulled with the movement.
Grounding himself, that’s what he’s supposed to do during times like this, right? Hell, he didn’t know. Not every day he came so close to death. Touya really needed to look into something for those sc—
“For the love of the gods, I am begging you to shut up.”
Ah, he said all that out loud? He managed to muster up a sheepish grin, despite Touya’s grim expression.
“Ooh, Touya? Begging? That’s a first, I should stay awake to hear it.” Keigo didn’t have to look to know that the rag was soaked through and Touya was fighting against the inevitable at this point. Keigo? He… he was too tired to fight to keep his eyes open. Too cold.
“Maybe you should stay awake to go home, loverboy.”
“I should.” He fumbled to find purchase, pressing his palm into the ground and scooting his feet closer for leverage. “Can’t leave Y/N waiting after all.”
Maybe it was the delirium from the blood-loss, or the desperation of this cursed situation, but Keigo tried to pull himself up. To move, to get somewhere safer, somewhere where he could survive. His palm slipped on the blood-slick floor underneath him and he came crashing down once more, his strength disappearing along with it as he slumped against Touya.
“Ah—”
“Shit, I’ll get you to the medic.”
Keigo groaned at the pain of his wounds being jostled as Touya tried to haul the deadweight of his sluggish body up. The reality of the situation weighed heavy on his shoulders (or was it his strength leaving him?) and he licked his chapped lips, whispering the grim truth into the ash-hazy air.
“I’m not gonna make it to the medic.”
“How many times do I have to keep telling you to shut up?” Another attempt to pull him to his feet, and Keigo managed to push out a weak laugh.
“Just a couple more times.”
“Hey… hey, c’mon now, I still have to make fun of you and Y/N for being the most disgusting couple I’ve ever met.” He carefully shook Keigo, trying desperately to get him to keep his drooping eyes open.
“Aw, don’t tease Y/N too badly.”
Something changed in Touya’s voice, a block in his throat that he had to force his words through, and he clutched the dripping rag closer to his wounds as he muttered out his response.
“I won’t.”
“Good, good,” Keigo’s hands clumsily fumbled for the cord wrapped over his chest, tugging at it until it came loose. “Hey, can you tell Y/N that I’ll do my best to come home? In any way I can.”
“...Just do it yourself.”
“Mm, that would… that would be nice. Coming home, I mean. I promised… Y/N… I would…”
His words faded, and Touya froze, arms suspended in midair around the slumped form of his best friend, his stunned gaze locked on the identification tag hanging from a limp, bloody hand.
“Kei...go?”
【 ☀︎ 】
Waiting was agony.
You used to think you were a patient person, years of dealing with drunks, horrible customers, and everything in between training the patience of a saint into you.
Today, however, revealed that you were anything but. The moment the company had crested the hill and out of sight, your anxieties slowly overcame you the farther they went. Working in the izakaya helped, the constant flow of customers and orders kept you on your feet and your thoughts off the battle that was no doubt waging mere miles away. Every so often, a wandering patron would come in murmuring that they heard bits and pieces of the battle, and you forced yourself to forget again.
All that effort was lost once the company’s runner came barreling through the town, shouting that the soldiers were on their way back. That they needed spaces cleared for the wounded and their lodgings secured. They called for the doctor, they called for food, they called for supplies.
If you didn’t know any better, it would’ve sounded like a cry for help.
Word spread like wildfire, and the rush of serving customers turned into the rush of trying to help prepare for the soldiers’ return. None of it helped get your mind off the one thing you didn’t want to worry about. If anything, it just shoved all your worries to the forefront of your mind, accompanied by the dull headaches of something you hoped were just random fantasies.
(Fantasies of a lotus garden, a guarded grin, a red hairpin, a betrayal—)
Would he have to be wrapped in the bandages you were carrying? Would he have to rest in the bedding in your hands? Would he be able to eat the food your grandmother was preparing?
Then, they came.
A slow straggle of wounded and weary men, leaning and limping on each other as they slowly trickled in through the main street.
There were many things that wouldn’t happen, you would later realize, watching the company trudge back into the town. Their formation was shaky from the hobbling wounded, and you felt your heart drop as you desperately searched the noticeably thinner crowd, trying to peek through the uniforms and bandages and dented helmets for any sign that he had come home. That he had survived.
How many men did they lose?
(Too many.)
You watched the flow of soldiers slowly follow their commander to their lodgings and the doctor, the once boisterous crowd now silent and battle-worn. The rookie that had just been under a chokehold the other night was now cradling bandaged wounds and a gaunt expression that only told of his first brushes with death.
One soldier broke from the crowd to make his way towards you, and—for a fleeting moment—you hoped.
And just as quickly as it came, that hope you had soon sunk into despair once you saw who it was, and what he held in his scarred hands.
Across the street, a man broke rank, with a heavier burden than most would’ve thought and few would ever experience. He hoped that no one would have to experience this, a death and the task of delivering such news weighing heavy on his shoulders.
Life, Touya thinks, is cruel.
It left such a brilliant mind like Keigo to starve with him on the streets.
It forced him to run to the military in desperation, searching for steady food and shelter.
It snatched away the one man who had salvation waiting for him.
Death, Touya grieves, is even crueler.
Keigo would never get to go home.
He wouldn’t get to see the joy on your face once you welcomed him home with open arms.
(How could he? When your expression twists into something akin to dawning horror instead of joy, watching Touya make his way up to you with downcast eyes and a heavy bundle of fabric carefully cradled in his palm.)
He wouldn’t get to start the new life he deserved, in a sleepy rural town with the one he adored.
He wouldn’t get to fulfill his promise to you.
A promise that everyone knew was too risky a promise to make. Yet, he believed enough to make it to you.
A promise that Touya holds back on his tongue because he knew this—a little metal disc on a bloodstained cord—wouldn’t fulfill it, not when he hands you the neat square of scrap fabric and watches your tears flow before you even open it. Not when you slip out a worn identification tag, holding it up to the sunset to try and make out the letters you already knew were there.
A lantern illuminates what the fading sunlight could not, casting the stamped characters of Keigo’s bloodied name in an amber glow, and you crumble.
【 ☀︎ 】
Dawn finds Professor Takami, Head of the Sociology Department, first through the doors of the campus café with essays to be finished grading in one hand and his laptop bag in the other.
The cashier greets him with a familiar warmth as he steps up to the counter, his staple order already halfway punched into the register with a knowing smile that he forces himself to return. There’s a nervous energy simmering under his skin that he can’t seem to shake, and it shows. The barista (Touya. His name is Touya. He literally has one of the guy’s essays in his hand, fucking hell. Get it together, Keigo) shoots the normally easygoing professor a worried look as he slides the warmed pastry across the counter to him, the full sleeves of swirling blue and black ink a stark contrast against the smooth wood of the counter.
“Everything good with you, Professor?”
“Perfect, now that I got my pastry. Think I’ll be even better once I drink some coffee.”
Nothing was perfect, and he couldn’t even put a finger on what it was.
He plastered a convincing smile on his face as he picked up the too-heavy plate, careful to hold it steady before making a beeline for his usual table. The faster he got to sit down at his usual corner booth and sort himself out, the better.
He knew that he would just drown himself in grading papers instead of figuring out what was making him feel off, but it was the thought that counted.
The hum of energy under his skin was nothing new to him. Something deep inside that made him almost jumpy, wary of the peaceful days that had consumed his entire life, lying in wait for… something. For what? Keigo wished he knew.
(For battles yet started, for warcries yet sung, for survival yet fought for.)
All he knew was that the strange hum that threatened to vibrate him out of his own skin was different this time. Wrong. It didn’t help that his sleep had been suffering for the past week, plagued by dreams and nightmares both of eras past, the blurry picture of the same person a constant sight in the swirling mix of history. Images flickering between a secluded lotus garden and an elaborate kimono to an old izakaya and Clair de Lune at moonrise. Images of yearning and blood and tragedy and endings before the beginnings.
At least his conversations with the once-intimidating Japanese Literature professor got a smidge more interesting.
With the resolute click of a red pen, he swept away the thoughts clouding his mind as he resigned himself to his fate of just dealing with the strange mood for now, fully intent on getting to work. Years of repetition and muscle memory had him opening up his email with practiced ease, quietly sighing to himself as he waited for the doubtlessly endless emails from students and colleagues alike to load.
Would procrastinating just the tiniest bit by fiddling with the rolled cuffs of his sleeves or pushing up his glasses for the nth time help at all?
No, but it let Keigo expel the weirdly restless energy in what ways he could, the creeping sense of foreboding setting his nerves into overdrive. The page loaded and he frowned at the onslaught of emails he knew were going to flood his inbox.
Hell, he expected them to.
What he didn’t expect were the contents, the subject lines all variations of “Did you know?” and “There’s no way” and “I can’t believe it” from colleagues he didn’t even talk to regularly. Sure, the email from the cultural anthropology professor made sense, but the graphic design professor? The head of the business department?
Before he could open the first email of many, his laptop chirped out the familiar ‘ding!’ of a new email, the sound rippling through the café as everyone’s phones and laptops lit up with the same message.
A schoolwide email? Okay, th—
The world slowed to a crawl, everyone in the packed coffee shop silencing almost at once and the shocked whispers rippling throughout the space only serving to make the silence all the more deafening (“Hey, check your email.” and “Look at this.” and “No way.” and it was too loud someone please make it stop—), his ears near ringing as he struggled to tear his gaze away from the picture embedded at the top of the page.
“Looking a little rough there.” The cotton suddenly stuffing his ears muffled the barista’s voice and would’ve made him jump out of his skin had he been focused on anything but burning the email into his eyes. God, he’d barely even registered the guy coming up to serve his coffee, what was wrong with him? “Professor? Was it that email?”
“Y-Yeah, I just read it.” He cleared his throat and slid the mug closer to himself, taking a sip of the scalding hot coffee to ground himself as he stared at the picture of you.
The barista merely arched a pierced brow and muttered a soft “ah.” before going back to his spot behind the espresso machine, vibrant blue eyes tracking the rattled professor suspiciously. Keigo was too preoccupied to thank him as he usually would’ve. Too preoccupied with what was staring back at him from his laptop screen.
A picture placed right under the subject line plastering “Unfortunate news about Prof. L/N Y/N” across his screen, the few words in the body text (that he could pick out through the sudden tidal wave of memories past clicking into place) painted an image that he couldn’t help but mourn.
After being reported missing… remains found… will be missed.
Will be missed…
Well, now that he thought about it, Keigo had been missing you all his life, hadn’t he?
Both figuratively and literally, always arriving after you left and vice versa, never really seeming to connect in person. Any emails were shrouded with a veil of professionalism that he couldn’t pierce through. Yet, there were things so irrevocably you that he knew to pick out now. The jovial note at the end of your emails, the unapologetically confident sharpness to your words, the extra mug you left for the next person that passed through the faculty lounge (that somehow always ended up being him on the days he was rushing to his next lecture).
All these things, all these moments, and the fool had passed all of them by.
The restless energy humming under his skin through his entire being disappeared much quicker than it had come, its job done, leaving a gaping void in its wake that was shockingly familiar. Almost as if this wasn’t the first time this had happened, where the curtains never raised on the beginning you two could’ve had. He took a shuddering, stabilizing breath (that didn’t work), too numb to feel the freshly brewed coffee scalding his tongue that he had hoped would pull him back to reality, hoped the sweet taste would wash away the bitterness at the back of his throat and the splitting headache of years upon years of memories crashing into him like a tidal wave.
Professor Takami had work to get done.
Keigo could mourn later.
Even as he convinced himself of that, he couldn’t even bring himself to brush the dead lotus petals off his work, the sight of the wilted centerpiece only bringing more pain. The cruel coincidence of the once bloomed flowers now dead in his hands didn’t go unnoticed, and Keigo desperately tried to bore the printed words laid in front of him into his mind.
As if doing that would sear away the sudden onslaught of memories, dead lotus petals igniting a yearning for a long-demolished lotus garden and a pretty concubine who didn’t belong in the palace (or was it a small town and the life he could’ve had?) and the love that slipped through his fingers once more.
Did you go through this too? When he—
The half-graded essays lay untouched for the rest of the day, red ink disappearing in the crimson light cast by the setting sun.
【 ☀︎ 】
When did I…?
He blinked down at the concrete under his feet, stunned, before looking up to see an endless sea of trains passing in front of him. The incessant rushing of the trains around him had replaced the silence of the hotel room he was supposed to be sound asleep in, the too-rhythmic noise of the train tracks surrounding him in an almost ethereal white noise.
I had just gone to bed… How did I end up at a train station?
He winced at the glare of the midday sun reflecting off of the last car of the train passing in front of him, before stopping short at the sight of someone standing on the other side of the tracks—alone—revealed by the passing train. His heart leapt into his throat and pushed a name he didn’t know and wouldn’t remember out of his lips. There was no way he knew her, the multi-layered kimono and elegant hairpins looked like something out of a millenia-old ukiyo-e print and wholly out of place in a modern train station. But... something deep in his soul knew that it was right, and it sang as he watched the woman turn around.
“You’re dreaming right now, Keigo. Go back to sleep,”
“What…?”
“It’s true,” The woman tilted her head with the soft smile that he’d missed so much (missed? Wasn’t this his first time seeing it?) and the ancient hairpieces jingled and swayed with the movement, his gaze locking on a familiar crimson gemstone catching the sunlight, “Don’t believe me? Try to count some numbers, then. One… two…”
Another train hurtled past, blocking his view once more as her painted lips moved soundlessly around the final number.
“Three.”
Keigo sat up with a gasp, staring at the soft shafts of light the sunrise painted on the walls.
It was the start of a new day, and he found himself mourning something lost that he couldn’t even remember.
Dawn finds Hawks, the number two hero, leaping out of his Tokyo hotel window, wind catching on vermilion wings to buffer his descent to the sidewalk.
He was far from home, his current mission dragging him all the way to Tokyo from his agency in Fukuoka. Sneakers touched concrete, and he started down the path where he was supposed to meet with the last person he wanted to see right now. Especially after that mess with the High-End Nomu. He shuddered, spreading his wings as if to remind himself that they were all there, recovered after that hellish fight.
Come to the location on foot, he’d been told, and don’t be conspicuous.
Weird request, and it was kind of hard to remain inconspicuous when he was the number two hero and had a pair of bright red wings announcing his identity to the world. Alas, he needed to cooperate or else he’d end up jeopardizing the entire mission, so Keigo settled for ditching his hero costume in favor of casual clothes and a cap to hide his identity. He pulled a mask over his nose and tucked his wings closer to further help conceal himself as he walked down the street, dipping into the first alley he saw.
His path through the grid of alleyways and side streets had already been mapped out the days before, so it was just a matter of making the short trek there. Unfortunately, the area wasn’t the best, and Keigo found himself slowed by sidestepping trash and the occasional bottle of liquor. The scent of stale alcohol only brought unpleasant fragments of memories, and he pushed them aside in favor of quickening his pace.
“My, not every day I see such a bigshot hero pass by.”
He almost tripped over another bottle, wings ruffling in surprise as he cursed himself for being caught off guard.
There was an old woman sitting there, a steaming cup of tea in her hands as she sat outside her quaint little storefront.
A flower shop, in this secluded side street?
“Ah, sorry, ma’am, you have the wrong person. I mean, me? The number 2 pro hero?” He was quick to deny her, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. She merely hummed and took another sip of her tea.
“Do I? Well, this old woman’s eyes aren’t what they used to be after all.” She set down the cup and stepped out of her chair, shuffling over to the water feature on the other side of the doorway that served as an attraction. He could see why, the soft rush of the small waterfall and fragrant lotuses drawing his attention the more he stared.
Suddenly, the woman plucked one of the younger lotuses, patting the stem dry before handing it to him with a smile.
“Uh—”
“You saved my son that day, from the Nomu attack in Fukuoka. This is the least I could do.”
Against his better judgement—he really needed to get going to catch the train in time—he took the half-bloomed lotus in his hands and pulled down his mask to smile at her.
“Your eyes are… actually pretty sharp, ma’am. Thank you.”
She laughed, sitting back in her seat and sent him on his way. The rest of the walk went smoothly after that, and he soon found himself jogging up the stairs to the station, muttering under his breath as he checked his watch.
Right on time.
【 ☀︎ 】
A strange sense of deja vu creeped into his chest as he stepped onto the platform in Minami-senju station. He’d been feeling off all day, and the weird sense of familiarity that had been tugging at the back of his mind didn’t help. Luckily, he’d managed to arrive in time to catch the noon train so the rest of his schedule should hopefully go smoothly from here. A departing train screeched into motion, and he winced at the rippling glare of sunlight that reflected into his eyes, the strange deja vu rearing its head again.
Keigo stared at the train passing in front of him as he idly twirled the lotus stem in between his fingers. The words left his lips before he could catch himself.
“One… two…” He cut himself off with a sigh, dropping his head and dragging a hand over his face.
It was ridiculous. He was being ridiculous.
Keigo.
His head shot up at the sound of his name, the world darkening under the shade of a passing cloud. Did he just imagine that? He had to. The train station was practically stranded, and there was no one even close enough to call his name without shouting across the station (if they even knew his name in the first place). Despite his better judgement, he wet his lips and shut his eyes, the strangely familiar words passing his lips once more as he desperately tried to recall the familiarity he longed for.
“One…”
I want to see you.
“Two…”
I don’t even know who you are, but I miss you anyway.
“Three—”
Suddenly, the steady rhythm of the train tracks silenced and left him with the raging drum of his heartbeat, the blood rushing in his ears as he stared at the person standing on the other side of the tracks. The emerging sun smiled upon him, casting the world in light once more as his voice locked around a familiar name he’d never spoken.
It started as a hushed whisper, and he swallowed the lump in his throat to call the name thrice ingrained into his soul.
“Y/N!”
The familiar smile that bloomed across your lips was answer enough as he pushed through the newly arrived train to the other side, to you. He reached out, clawing through the rush hour crowd (why were there so many people? Why were you so far? Closer, closer, closer—) and he nearly sobbed in relief as you fell into his arms, clinging to each other as your souls finally, finally, melded together as one. Now and forevermore.
The questions could come later, but now... he had a promise to fulfill.
He was home.
notes: minami-senju train station is located in very close proximity (a two-minute walk) from what is left of the kozukappara execution grounds, where a temple now stands in its place. he’s made quite the journey to come full circle, hasn’t he?
#takami keigo x reader#keigo takami x reader#keigo x reader#hawks x reader#bnha oneshot#hawks x reader angst#mha oneshot#bnha reader insert#mha reader insert#reincarnation au#from the typewriter#pocuties#cw death#tw death#cw blood#tw blood#cw war#tw war#if you'd like me to add a warning please let me know!
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cake [c.s] [final part]
concept: Choi San x gender neutral reader (ft. Park Seonghwa)
warnings ⚠: smut, angst, choking, shitty behaviour
[Part 1]
A/N: aaaa it’s finally done!! I really like the endinggg I hope you enjoy part 2!! I’m sorry if I ever mention a gender on the reader, sometimes I get distracted but please let me know!! All criticism is appreciated :D
You thanked all of the gods in existance for the fact that the academic year would be over in a couple of days. You decided that missing them wouldn't be of much importance, since you couldn't bear the embsfassment. You didn't want to face San, and you weren't sure you could face anyone at all. You felt like everyone knew about what had happened, and like everyone was silently judging you for falling right onto his trap. You needed time away from everyone in that place, as everyone reminded you of him.
You spent days crying onto your pillow, because the unbearable heartbreak and weird sense of betrayal you couldn't help but to feel.
It had been about two weeks into summer vacation when you decided to pick yourself up from bed. You looked at yourself in the mirror: bloated face, massive eye bags, hair severely overgrown and your body looked unhealthy. Your heart broke at the sight, and you cursed yourself for getting to this point because of a man.
You decided that, from that point on, you'd get better. You'd treat yourself, and become someone new. But it's easier said than done of course... You sort of did that. At least you were happier...
When you finally emerged from the comfort of your bed you fixed yourself the best you could and made way towards the nearest non-suspicious looking bar. It was a nice medium-sized bar, that looked like it was straight from a gossip girl set. It was only 5pm, but as soon as you closed the door behind you, it felt like it was 1am. The music wasn't loud nor quiet, the decoration wasn't exaggerated, and the purple and pink neon lights lit up the bar nicely.
Despite not having any windows, the smell of smoke wasn't unbearable like most bars, it was almost as if it was just setting the ambient.
You sat at the bar and order a 'whatever you recommend here'. You actually had about 4 of those. You felt surprisingly well, that is, until you stood up to go to the bathroom. Your legs were wobbly and suddenly the room was spinning. Somehow you made it to the bathroom and came back, to find that your seat was taken. Yes, there were about 5 other seats, but slightly drunk you had decided that that was your seat. How dare guy-who-looked-handsome-from-the-back tke it from you?
You tapped his shoulder, a little too harshly but you couldn't control it really. The male turned around and you gasped loudly. He raised an eyebrow at your extreme reaction, but again, your emotions, actions and reactions were highly enhanced with the help of alcohol.
You recognized those deep dark eyes and eye-catching lips anywhere.
Seonghwa. He was one of San's 'og' friends. You saw him in San's ig pictures from years ago, and you'd never seen one without the other walking around the halls.
'Y/N?'
You could feel your face get hotter, out of anger. You turned around and wobbled towards the door, but Seonghwa was faster. He grabbed your wrist.
'Y/N, are you drunk? It's 7pm what are you doing here?'
You turned to face him and placed your index finger on his chest, pushing him back.
'None of your business. Don't talk to me.'
Seonghwa was smart, it didn't take him long to understand your behaviour. His grip on your wrist was steady and he didn't let you go.
'You know I'm not him, right? I didn't do it, and I would never do something like that.' He told you.
Tears immediately brimmed in your eyes and your furrowed your eyebrows angrily.
'So you know about it.'
Seonghwa sighed and nodded.
'He tells me about every single one...'
You fought his grip and ran outside, the best you could. Seonghwa followed you, not wanting to leave you alone, drunk and wobbling in the streets that had already gotten dark.
'Y/N please, I'm sorry he did that to you. I had no idea.' He tried to excuse himself.
'But you're still friends with him!' You yelled, earning a couple of looks from people passing by.
'I can't just drop him Y/N! I've been his friend since we were kids. I hate that he does this, and I hate that I'm associated with it even more. You don't see it, but I see the dirty looks I get from every girl he fucked and trashed away because they think I'm just like him.'
'Oh boo hoo poor you!' You mocked.
He placed his hands on his hips and sighed.
'Do you live nearby?' He asked.
'Why? So you can fuck me and dump me too?' You mocked.
'Because I'm driving you home before some idiot on the street picks you up and convinces you to fuck him.'
You felt a little shy for assuming anything about him when he meant to do something good. You just nodded and told him your address as you walked to his car. The drive was silent, the only sound being his finger tapping on the wheel.
Once he pulled up in your driveway, he turned off the engine and sighed.
'Y/N I'm genuinely worried for you. I'm not San, okay? He texted me after you left his house, and told me what happened. The days after he does that we usually get some nasty comments from whoever he fucks. I looked for you, I expected to see you breaking a couple pencils imagining it was his dick or shooting him death glares, but you didn't come to class. Neither did you the next day. And it's two weeks into summer vacation and I find you, completely different, getting drunk in a bar at 5pm. I don't want you to waste one of the best years in your life because of my friend. I don't know how he gets away with that façade, I guess no one believes that he's actually kind of an ass...'
You listened to him carefully. He sounded genuinely concerned, and you were touched by his words for a second.
'The deed is done.' You told him, coldly.
He sighed, a little sad at your disbelief in him.
'Let me give you my number. Text me if it gets to your head again, please.'
The next day, when you woke up, you felt a little embarrassed at the way you spoke to him. A couple days went by but you never texted him, your pride wouldn't let you. But you couldn't stop thinking about him. How sweet he had been to you even though he didn't know you at all. How genuine he seemed...
Still, you didn't text him. You got in some nice clothes, fixed the hair you still hadn't bother to get an appointment for, and went to the same bar you had seen him the other day. Except at a decent hour this time.
As soon as you walked in you spotted him. He was very hard to miss, as he always seemed to be the best mannered and best composed person in the room.
'Drink alone often?' He turned around, a little surprised to hear your voice again. Seonghwa smirked.
'Didn't think I'd see you again so soon.' He told you, setting down his drink.
You said nothing. Your ego stopped you from doing so, you'd never admit you felt bad for being so cold to him.
There wasn't much of a conversation between the two of you, only some small talk accompanied by one too many drinks.
You only realized how late it was when the music became louder and the dance floor started becoming full of drunk men and women. The bar around you was spinning a little, but not enough that you couldn’t grab Seonghwa’s hand and pull him to dance with you.
‘Who knew you could act normal for once instead of stone cold?’
You slapped his chest as you drunk-danced to a random trap song.
‘I’m not stone cold, I just wanted to make sure you weren’t like your dear friend.’ You explained, looking at him as if you meant an offense.
Seonghwa rolled his eyes and pulled close so you could see well his eyes under the flashing lights. He was dead serious.
‘Y/N, please stop. I’m not like him. I told this over and over, I hate what he does, so please stop comparing me to San.’
You looked at him for a second, not knowing what to do, or say. Up until this point you were the harsh one, but now his calm, soft side had turned into a serious person that you had never seen before.
As you thought about what he said, you gulped, rummaging through your brain, trying to find an adequate response.
‘Then help me take him down.’
Seonghwa tilted his head and frowned, not quite understanding what you meant.
‘If you hate it so much, help me do something about it. No one deserves to be treated that way and I want to make sure no other girl gets fooled by him.’
The male was a little mervous about it. A frienship with San was something he had known his whole life. Hell, he had a key to San’s house, he was on a first name basis with San’s parents... The male gulped and sighed.
He grabbed your wrist and took you outside, so you could speak properly without the banging sound of the music interrupting you.
‘Y/N you know I can’t do that, he’s my-’
‘Your friend? Is he though? Is he the person you became friends with? If a narcissistic asshole who lures in girls with a fake persona just to fuck them and trash them the second after came up to you and asked you to be ‘best friends’ would you happily take it?’ You interrupted him.
Seonghwa’s head was confused. It was torn between the comfort of a life-long friendship and what was morally correct. His head was trying to separate all the events, all the good memories and fun times, from the things that he didn’t like. And after a short minute, he came to a conclusion: you were right. All of the rainbows and flowers were buried in the past, all of the laughs and giggles he could remember was from little San, that went to church every Sunday and refused to kill any backyard bug because ‘bugs are friends’. Not new San. Not bubblegum-haired San that got Seonghwa in trouble over and over, not San that had Seonghwa pick him up from random girls’ houses at 2am because ‘he didn’t want to be in the same room as them after he fucked them’. Current San wasn’t Seonghwa’s friend.
‘Fine, I’ll help you. But how?’ He finally replied, earning a wide grin from you.
You didn’t exactly know how tho... You only knew that you wanted- no, you needed revenge. You thought for a while, before something came to mind.
‘Like this!’
You grabbed Seonghwa’s face and kissed his lips, for a brief second. When you pulled away his face was red and his eyeballs looked like they were going to pop out of the socket at any second.
‘By kissing me!? I’m not complaining Y/N but, what?’
‘No dumb dumb, pretend we’re dating. It’ll make him uncomfortable. At least enough until he throws a fit and I get a confession out of him. Plus, if I’m close to his best friend it adds credibility when I say that he’s an ass, and people won’t just take me for ‘another crazy bitch who was rejected by San’.’
Seonghwa just shrugged.
‘Fine by me, I don’t care.’
After saying that, Seonghwa grabbed your waist and pulled you close, close enough so he could close the gap between your lips, just for a second longer than you had before.
‘What was that for?’ You asked, a little shocked, once you two pulled away.
‘Would you believe my excuse if I told you it’s to make it seem more realistic and not because you look very fuckable right now?’ Whether it was the alcohol or a hidden desire speaking, he meant it.
You just laughed him off, thinking it was a joke. Quickly you understood it wasn’t, by taking a look at the way his eyes became even darker and the way he bit his lower lip.
You didn’t hesitate when Seonghwa gently grabbed your hair and intertwined your fingers with his, as he dragged you along to his flat.
As soon as you stepped inside, the male shut the door and pressed you against it, taking a second to appreciate the way you looked under the dim lights. Seonghwa crashed his lips against yours and began undressing you in his living room, too needy to even let you get to his bedroom.
Unlike San, Seonghwa was gentle with his touch. It was a nice mix of romantic and passionate. He removed your clothes as his lips moved down your neck, leving very light bites so it wouldn’t be shamelessly marked on your neck. As soon as he got to your chest, however, you could tell the purple spots would be lasting for weeks.
You undressed him just as quickly as he undressed you, and it was truly mesmerizing what clothes could hide. Seonghwa’s body was just perfectly: fit, but not in excess. Broad shoulders, thick thighs and toned torso, that you kept on admiring as he picked you up and laid you on the couch slowly.
Seonghwa’s tip grazed over your entrance and you moaned into the kiss.
‘O-oh wait!’ He said, and stood up, leaving you confused as he stepped away.
He soon came back with a little bottle of lube, causing you both to flush.
‘I didn’t... want it to hurt?’
You smiled a little, and watched as the light from the moon shined and reflected on his slightly sweaty body.
Seonghwa aligned his tip by your entrance once more, and hovered over you, allowing you to encircle his neck with your arms.
He filled you up, slowly. You bit down on his shoulder causing him to groan. He started slow, but you could see he wanted to do more.
‘D-do it.’
‘What?’ He asked.
‘Don’t hold back, please.’
Seonghwa stopped for a second and looked at you.
‘I don’t want to hurt you...’
‘You won’t.’
The male licked his lips and kissed your temple.
‘Fine by me.’
Seonghwa grabbed waist, snapping his hips rapidly against yours, causing you to grip onto the couch for dear life. He reached for your neck, encircling it with his hand in a way that you didn’t even know you liked.
There were so many groans and moans and noises echoing around the room, and you couldn’t even hear them. You were too focused on the way he fucked you.
‘You like that? Like when I fuck your pretty little head dumb?’
‘S-shit! Yes!’
Soon enough you came, but he kept thrusting into you. The overstimulation was painful, yet pleasurable.
‘Can y-you take it babydoll?’
‘Fuck- yes! Seonghwa!’
You came once more, with a yell for his name, and almost immediately he pulled out and came all over your torso.
He looked down at the mess he made.
‘Oh... Sorry about that. You look good though.’
You collected some of the cum on your finger, put it in your mouth, and winked at him.
‘Fuck... You’re golden.’
Weeks went by and the changes were slow. You wanted it to look natural. It started with a couple of selfies the two of you posted when you met from time to time, then the dates became more frequent, and more public, and then you became his lockscreen photo. Soon enough, academic year began once more, and you agreed to walk into the building holding hands, as if you truly were in love. It shocked everybody, even San. They all had seen you two, but people just assumed that it was a summer fling, not a serious thing.
San wouldn’t deny that it bothered him, because it did. Very much actually. It made him uncomfortable that he treated you like that, because to him you were nothing, and now you were hanging out with his best friend all the time, which meant you were hanging out with him. And you didn’t even look bothered, at all.
The day came when you and Seonghwa first kissed in front of everybody, it was about a week into it, and that’s when San lost it. You were sitting with Seonghwa, San and a couple other guys that often hung out with them in the cafeteria. San was desperately trying not to look at the two of you. How did this even happen? Seonghwa did tell him he was seeing somebody but... You? He usually never looked at any other person he fucked again and now not only did he have to look at you, but he also had to hang out with you.
You were sitting so close to your ‘boyfriend’ that you were nearly on his lap. Your head was resting on his shoulder as he caressed your thigh. Seonghwa said something funny, and as both of you laughed you looked at each other. Your lips were awfully close, and as you stared into each other’s eyes you couldn’t help but share a brief, innocent kiss. A kiss that triggered San.
‘Okay what the fuck is going on!?’ The irritated male finally asked, through gritted teeth, while looking at the two of you.
‘What do you mean?’ You asked, feigning ignorance.
Seonghwa squeezed your thigh, as a warning to take it easy.
‘You know exactly what I mean.’
‘No, I don’t. I met Seonghwa, we started talking, enjoying our time together and eventually... we fell for each other.’ You told him, looking at Seonghwa lovingly to sell the lie.
‘Is this a part of some fucking plan to make me jealous?’
‘You? Why would this be about you?’
‘You know why.’
‘I really don’t.’
San gripped his cutlery hard. The way you were pretending nothing had happened was pissing him off beyond belief.
‘Stop pretending you don’t remember.’
‘Did... Something happen between the two of you? Did you date or something?’ Yeosang, who had become a little awkward by the conversation asked.
A couple curious students that were eating in tables nearby were overeharing the conversation, and quickly stopped what they were doing to focus on the gossip.
‘No, we didn’t date.’ San told Yeosang.
‘We didn’t, but I think I seem to remember something... Oh! Right! It was the way you pretended to be interested in me, then fucked me, and kicked me out of your house to never speak to me again.’
Yeosang and Yunho looked at San, with disgust painted all over their faces.
‘Dude, you still do that!?’ Yunho asked.
‘He never stopped.’
Everyone was shocked, as Seonghwa said that. He didn’t look up from his sad chocolate pudding.
‘What the fuck Seonghwa!? Is that what you do now!? Screw my leftovers and then stab me in the back!?’ San exclaimed.
Seonghwa slammed his fist on the table and looked up at San to meet his eyes. It was an expression that the latter had never seen on his cute, kind, puppy-like best-friend, and he wasn’t so sure he ever wanted to see it.
‘I’ve had enough! I’ve had fucking enough of you and your shitty behaviour, I’ve had enough of you using our friendship as an excuse to make me run around like a dog doing whatever you need, and I’m tired of getting angry looks from all the girls you fucked and then trashed away in this school. All while putting up this angel boy façade! You wanna fuck random girls and leave them on the side of the road the next day!? Get a hooker. You’re disgusting for toying with people like that. I’ve had it!’
Murmurs and whispers could be heard in the cafeteria, after Seonghwa’s explosion. There was silence in the table, however.
Suddenly, San’s famously adored pink hair was stained by brown goo.
‘This is for screwing me and telling me to ‘skidaddle’ right after you came.’ A sobbing girl said, as she dumped another pudding on his head. ‘And this one is for running off and fucking my sister the next day.’
San looked around. There was an occasional ‘you go king’ face from some pathetic little man who seemed to love his behaviour, but those ones were hidden behind the dozens angry and disgusted faces of every single peer of his.
He panicked. A guy stood up and as he started to step towards San, the latter just ran away. He dashed out of the cafeteria to never be seen again, at least in that building.
You turned to Seonghwa and hugged him.
‘Thank you.’
He smiled at you, as he pet your head.
‘It’s alright honey, it needed to be done.’
Seonghwa leaned in to kiss you, a sweet victory kiss, but you backed away.
‘Woah, we did it, we don’t need to fake it anymore!’ You told him with a smile. Silly him, he had forgotten!
‘Oh... Yes sorry, it’s the habit. Excuse me I... I need to go to the bathroom.’
He stood up and walked away, and you were left to talk to his friends. But you missed the way tears pooled in his eyes. You missed the way his face grew red and the unstability in his voice. You missed the red, puffy eyes and the bruised knuckles he tried to hide once he came back from the bathroom.
Seonghwa cursed himself for forgetting that it was all fake.
----
taglist: @sansbun @haram-monbebe @beefpork @softvelvetkisses @palegardenrebel @swimmingkpopblog @mirror-juliet @mingismoon @raysanshine @staytinyy
#ateez#ateez smut#ateez scenario#ateez angst#ateez scenarios#ateez san#ateez san smut#san smut#seonghwa smut#seonghwa#angst#smut#ateez seonghwa#ateez seonghwa smut#seonghwa angst#seonghwa scenario#seonghwa scenarios#san scenario#san scenarios#ateez reader smut
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kalopsia; s. wb + reader + k. ty
pairing: seo woobin + reader + kim taeyoung
genre: angst, fluff, hanahaki au
word count: 10.4k
warnings: blood, hospital visit, light cursing, mentions of sickness, death, anxiety, and alcohol/drinking
summary: in each passing day that you grew fonder of taeyoung, more petals would come out of your lips. your heart, a garden of the most beautiful flowers, only that it was also a reminder of your unrequited love. and with the withering petals, woobin can't bear to simply watch.
-- video teaser; story playlist; masterlist; taglist form 🥀
a/n: my longest fic so far! aaaa this is for a fic exchange with the amazing @arieswonjin. ilysm <3 i enjoyed writing this a lot and i hope we can do more exchanges in the future! also, special thanks to @starrycrvty who helped me with the editing process and cheered me up while i was losing a braincell in the development of the scenes. you’re awesome and ily. <3
hope you will enjoy this ride. send me feedback through my ask/reblogs! i’ll appreciate it a lot :>
taglist: @bunnyseongmin
[ will edit this again in the future; ]
regardless of how the day was already ending, flowers seemed to not lose their vibrancy. whenever a gust of air blew by, it would dance along with the wind’s melody. you took a breath, the floral scent easing your body which was probably hugged with nothing but fatigue out of the ruthless writing sessions you gave yourself for hours.
a mélange of colors in the sky; the red hue engulfing the orange tint. it was funny how despite that war of colors, in the end, the sky will turn pitch-black with scattered twinkling stars.
sure, spring was one of the most beautiful seasons. but that small amount of fondness for the aforementioned season will never be enough to make you want to experience it for the whole year. life played favorites though— it was spring for you all year round.
you smiled to yourself, trying to shrug off the thought. good thing you weren’t in your room and the sidewalk wasn’t the quietest place to be at during this hour. it offered a space for distractions. most shops were closing, students were to go home from long hours of studying, workers with a weariness that yours couldn’t match walking to hubs for some sort of leisure activities. if you were in some kind of company work, you’d probably be in the same position. going for a drink or two with friends after working hours. but well, you weren’t.
instead of a bustling office requiring formal attire; you were usually in your pajamas, musing about life and writing about it through means of prose and poetry. a young published author who was known for having a great appreciation for flowers. in a few months, another book will be launched under your name. its spine holding all the papers inked by your love, not for flowers or anything else, but for a childhood friend who seemed to not have taken notice of the flower that began growing in your lungs— a rose.
reaching the convenience store, you contemplated which instant food would serve as your dinner tonight. ordered food seemed to have bored out your taste buds, a little change was needed. and to say, probably a more unhealthy choice. maybe a dosirak would do or a kimbap and peel sausage.
as you were to enter, a call of your name put your feet to a halt. you turned to look at the speaker. “oh hey, woobin?”
a weak smile graced his lips, opening the door for you. he spoke after the both of you had entered the store. “tired of ordered meals?”
“kind of,” you replied, a sigh punctuating your words. you walked up to the aisle of dosirak. the sight of it made you swiftly cross it out of your options. you wanted something else. “how about you?”
“craved for ice cream,” answered woobin who, unlike you, had made his mind in settling with a pint of almond ice cream.
grabbing some triangle kimbaps, you looked at him with a raised brow. “wouldn’t that harm your ever so majestic voice?”
if you made money through books, woobin earned his through singing. it ranged from covers to original song compositions. he was quite popular with all the ballad songs he covered that without a lie was a heart-melter. if home and serenity would be defined using a voice, woobin’s would be the perfect definition for it.
“not really.” a chuckle was heard from him as he watched you grab a cup of instant ramyun. “well, wouldn’t that harm your ever so wonderful brain?”
you shook your head but laughed at the remark. woobin had been your friend for quite a long time, probably one of the closest. light and playful banters seemed to have become a part of your usual talks.
walking towards the counter, you settled your items which the worker scanned quickly. the amount flashed by the small screen, and you pulled your wallet out to pay. woobin followed shortly.
“a healthy alternative after ice cream?” you asked, noticing a herbal medicine pouch being placed in his bag.
woobin hunched his shoulders up, and proceeded to go out of the store.
a soft breeze welcomed you as you stepped out. the sidewalk was no longer as busy as it was earlier and the sky was losing its colors bit by bit as if the flickering lights in the queued lampposts were sucking it all.
“so how is it coming out?” woobin asked as he walked beside you. your apartment and his were only a few blocks away. his apartment was inside a street, away from the main road filled with noises coming from horns and speeding cars, while yours was in a complex near the road. you liked watching people from up the balcony, it was like watching a film, only that everything that was happening was real and only the made-up dialogues of the strangers were sheer fiction.
“minor editings left,” you replied. “also, next week the possible art for the cover will be out. want to check it out with me?”
he didn’t reply right after as if he was mentally checking his schedule, weighing if he was free or not. though his answer indicated that the things he had to do had flexible deadlines. “sure, just tell me when.”
“i’ll call you once they message me about it.” a cough ended your sentence, you covered your mouth as you did so. something smooth touching your palm. it was happening… again.
“are you alright?” concern evident on woobin’s face, he went closer to you. his hand on your back, rubbing circles to ease your coughing.
but he was aware it would not be enough to stop it. a rub or any sort of medicine wouldn’t stop it. like how will those be enough to stop a flower from blooming in your lungs?
it was the reason why even though you admired the beauty of spring, you also disliked it.
flowers were in full bloom during spring. the way each petal was colored was pleasing to the eye. however, such beauty should have just stayed where they were supposed to be. on the ground, decorating the world with its vibrant color. it should only be there instead of clinging onto someone's lungs after failing to get their love returned.
hanahaki, a disease that causes someone to cough up flower petals when their love is one-sided.
there were different stages of it. at first, it was only a mere cough. something one would mistake for a regular cough. until petals come along with it on the next stage. followed by a mix of blood, acute chest pain, and shortness of breathing in the last.
two ways to resolve it. either undergo a surgery which will cost a fortune at the risk of wiping out not only your emotions but also the memory of all people you are close with or have your love reciprocated. inability to obtain any of the mentioned cures will result in the most unfortunate event. no more pain from the flower sprouting in your chest. no ache, coming from the bitter taste of being reminded every single night that your love wasn’t reciprocated— death.
“i’m alright.” it took quite a while before your coughing subsided. you were sure petals were already accumulated on your hand. bringing your hand down, you let go of the red petals. luckily, no blood. but you didn’t expect less. this disease had been giving you restless nights lately, worsening and worsening.
a sigh left woobin’s lips as he shook his head. “that’s not the look of someone alright for me.”
the rest of the walk was silent. woobin insisted on walking you home, to which you had no power to decline. even if you told him no, he still ended up doing so.
by the time you reached the front of your unit, night had already won the clash in the sky. the stars glimmering above at their triumph.
“don’t work up until late,” woobin reminded.
you smiled, wishing you could tell him that it wasn’t the writing that made you get less rest every evening. it was the rose that inhabited your lungs. “i will not.”
“here,” said woobin, handing you the bag of the things he bought earlier.
the ice cream was no longer of its same form as it was earlier. its mist soaked the insides of the plastic bag. “and why are you giving it to me?”
“just take it. you know in movies heartbroken people would eat ice cream as they mope around.”
the lighthearted remark made you laugh. woobin had his ways to make you feel better. “and what about the medicine?”
“you’re probably sad, but that won’t mean that you should not take care of yourself.” he was aware of your feelings for someone else. he was aware of the red roses in your chest. he was aware that your feelings weren’t reciprocated.
“makes sense.” you flashed him a smile, scrambling on your bag to take out one of the triangle kimbaps. the item tossed to his direction which he caught smoothly. “take that at least.”
“well, thank you?” he gazed at the food you gave him before returning the smile. “have a good night, y/n. call me if you need anything.”
you hummed as a response, watching woobin make his way to the stairs, descending afterward. another gust of wind passed by and you rushed to go inside. staring at the now melted ice cream, you shook your head. a laugh escaping your lips as you closed the door.
how long has it been? you thought.
collapsing on the bed, you stared at the ceiling. the coughing had already stopped, yet the burning pain in your chest remained.
what was the flower again?
a rose?
maybe the stabbing ache was caused by its thorns that came to hug your lungs. you sighed as if that would altogether pull out the suffocating sensation— of course, it wouldn’t. it would never.
a curt beep on your phone pulled you out of your cloudy thoughts, reaching for it to read the notification. a message from one of your friends which read,
it’s your debut book’s first anniversary today! congrats, y/n.
for a moment, your lips curled into a faint smile, so weak that it didn’t even last for a minute. sending a quick reply to show gratitude over the thought, you allowed yourself to drown over the same thoughts.
that book with inked poetry all meant to deliver a single message— your feelings for taeyoung. the words laced in each rhyme was a cover of the affection you had for him, and the petals you cough each night was his answer.
a childhood friend who you used to be neighbors with. he still lived under the comforts of his parents’ home, while you moved to live alone in an apartment, desperately seeking independence.
or maybe seeking for a way to not see his face every single day and be reminded that his favorite flower, a rose, had been blooming in your lungs.
the brightness taeyoung had never seemed to fade, his smile still carried sunlight of its own. a contagious one that would make anyone have the same smile (but maybe not as bright). his bubbliness was a comfort. whenever around him, the butterflies causing chaos in your stomach would make you forget about the evening ache he was subconsciously bringing.
taeyoung, ever since you were young, loved books and flowers. you preferred other things though, but somehow you found yourself conforming to what he liked. being the person you spent most of your time with, his interest became yours. whenever he would tell you about something he became inclined to, you would check it as quick, forcing yourself to like it. it was a repeated action that was implanted as a habit. in the process of trying to be his ideal person, your own identity was thrown away. a trap filled with nothing but thorns of his favorite flower.
shifting to your side, your eyes landed on the wall just above your working table. photographs of roses were stuck on it, along with verses other people might find painfully beautiful. you knew your words better though. its beauty was a mere delusion. hiding behind the pretty words were ugly cries— your reality.
another cough, a petal escaping from your lips. it danced in the air as it was freed, only to meet the cold floor of your room. with flowers blooming in the chest, you closed your eyes drifting to sleep. the pain no longer mattered as it was the usual sensation.
a soft instrumental had taken over your apartment. the sun was already up, its light filtering through the blinds. your potted plants were probably thankful for its generosity. you took a sip of your coffee, staring at the few words written in the new document reserved for a new manuscript. writing, or at least conceptualizing the main theme, of your next book was your top priority today. however, the continuous notifications coming from your close peers dragged you out of your bubble every single time.
with you celebrating the first anniversary of your debut book (which basically marked the day of your debut as a published writer), receiving messages was plain inevitable. your editor even asked if you’d be up for a drink later this night. an offer you turned down. silence and alone time this evening were everything you craved for.
putting your laptop on rest, you grabbed your own copy of withered roses, your book. it was silly how you decided to have perfectly blooming and lively roses as its cover when it contained the very title, your own withered roses hiding through beautiful verses.
flipping through the pages, you stopped on a certain poetry. undeniably, one of your favorites. it was one of the first poems that you wrote for this collection. grabbing a paper and a pen, you scribbled the words down, the same words still describing your situation perfectly. and maybe that was the reason why your condition was worsening.
you stuck the paper on the wall, just beside a photograph of a blue rose. for a moment, you stared at it, smiling at the words as if those were some kind of lost friends who rekindled with you. you smiled as if those were something that you should be smiling at.
three doorbells and a few knocks. a heavy sigh came out of your lips, tearing your eyes away from the poem. slow steps towards the door, the person on the other seemed rather impatient for the doorbell continuously made a sound. it was enough for another breath to escape the confines of your mouth.
swinging the door open, your eyes widened. the sight penetrating quickly to your senses and the sensation you hated the most overpowering you, your heartbeat loud. really loud. “taeyoung?”
for him to be able to give you the most wonderful feeling of warm cheeks and butterflies and still be able to poison you using his favorite flower lethal to your body, you wondered when it would end.
“it’s withered roses’ first anniversary!” his smile was a band-aid, too fleeting of a cure for you. he lifted a pot of cycnoches orchids, something that was probably from his parent’s flower shop. “here’s a gift for you.”
“thank you.” as he handed you the pot, you gave him enough space to enter your unit. placing it just beside the other plants you had, all coming from their shop, you turned to look at taeyoung. a pout appearing in your countenance. “you should have brought food.”
taeyoung scratched his head at your sudden words, a sheepish smile curving on his lips. “well, we can order.”
at the sight of a slightly flustered taeyoung, a string of laughter became your immediate response. “i was kidding.”
you went back to the couch to sit with taeyoung following you shortly. the music playing in your room had long ago stopped, something you only noticed after taeyoung came. after your awareness came to hug you once again.
his eyes wandered as if it was his first time in your unit. it was definitely not his first visit, to count how many times he’d been there was also impossible. just like how you frequented their flower shop, he was usually in your unit as well. maybe it was due to him being used to your company. childhood friends, former neighbors— inseparable, but in a manner that went nothing beyond romantic feelings. at least to his side.
glancing at him, you followed where his gaze was fixated on. it was focused on the wall that held photographs of roses and the poem you scribbled earlier from your book.
“wasn’t that the eighth poem in your book?” intrigued, he looked at you with a brow raised.
you didn't have to meet his gaze. a smile slowly crept out of your visage. it didn't hold an emotion though, more like a simple forced curve. "it is."
"i love it." it was a genuine remark, but somehow, instead of giving you a warm feeling, it did the opposite. standing up, he reached for the paper, detaching it from the wall. the words slipping out of his tongue as he read it out loud.
heat-haze;
sunrays visible at the nighttime daydream
under the cloud of deep distance
built a sensation of unrequited affection
innumerable actions--
satisfied, captured by mere existence.
nevertheless, the heart was jinxed
in a presence,
a love,
i cannot withdraw from.
as the final four lines were uttered, he looked at you in the eyes, a hint of gloom clouding his misty orbitals. he had the poem memorized, but it was only the words he had carved in his mind. the feelings sealed with it, unnoticed.
taeyoung was the reason why you began writing. a simple comment of his saying that you would make a good author and your words were all prettily laid out made you want to write.
or perhaps it was not the writing you were chasing for, rather the speaker who told you that he wished to see more of your writing.
for others, writing could be a form of escape. to be under a little spell that would pull someone out of their reality. you wished you were the same. you wished your writing wasn't your reality.
anywhere you go, you were surrounded by your reality. the potted plants you should not be taking care of if it wasn't for his interest in plants and flowers. the book that was published a year ago and the soon to be published one. the colors that accented your unit which he said was such a relaxing palette. the words in your head. the flower in your chest. it was the reality made out of nothing but the person you loved.
“wait.” taeyoung’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. he was peering over petals of red roses that were on your table.
it seemed like you forgot to clean it up earlier. well, you didn’t expect anyone to actually go to your house. such a realization was thought late.
“were you playing with roses?” taeyoung asked, frowning as he looked at it.
you’d consider that a stupid question, but taeyoung didn’t know a thing about your condition so you let it pass. there was no way in hell you’d tell him about it now. not yet. “yes.”
“so how was it?” the excitement and giddiness leaking in his tone as he plopped down next to you on the couch didn’t help. what was he even referring about? your hanahaki disease? what? as if hearing your question, he clarified his query, “does he love you?”
ah, the popular he loves me, he loves me not.
there was no need for that though, the petals you vomit each night was a clear answer. you smiled, leaning back to get seated more comfortably. “he doesn’t.”
the way those two words left your lips surprised you. no hint of hurt, sadness, or anything— it was laced with a calm tone as if retreating, surrendering, accepting. will it really be your fate?
taeyoung sighed, the smile he once had melting away. “don’t worry, it’s just a silly game anyway. the person you love probably loves you too.”
you turned to look at him. a mistake. kind eyes met yours, reassuring you of something you had already known for so long was false. there was no need to hang into that ray of hope when you were aware that it was not the case.
eyes glossy with the tears that never dared to fall, you offered him a tight-lipped smile. “thank you.”
he grinned, which you assumed was out of relief before he looked at your wall once again. “why use roses though? there are other flowers out there.”
“well, isn’t it the first flower you’d think of when you hear the word love?” you replied. “it means a lot more depending on its color, but in simple terms, it just means love and romance.”
“you seem to know a lot about it,” he remarked, not tearing his gaze away from the photograph. “why blue out of all colors?” he asked referring to the photograph you had on your wall.
“it stands for an impossible miracle.” a clear depiction of your situation. no word followed that sentence, and good thing taeyoung didn’t ask any further about why. maybe it was due to his perception that poetry writers had other symbolism hidden behind their verses, even when there was nothing and the message was just in front of their readers.
“roses are wonderful, aren’t they?”
not when they are blooming in your chest. not when its thorn embraces your lungs. not when it suffocates you. your thoughts were loud in your head. but you knew you can’t blame it for inhabiting your body. you can’t even have taeyoung blamed for it either. it was the universe’s fault for laying such a disease in humanity. “they truly are.”
“it’s my favorite,” taeyoung mused.
there was a smile that sat on your lips, a peck of gloom decorating its corners. “i know.”
how could you not when its petals were the ones that kept on coming out of your lips every evening?
a ringing coming from a device shattered the silence in your apartment. but this time, it wasn’t from yours. it was from taeyoung who was now about to leave your unit, his parents had called him to go and do his tasks in the flower shop. seemed like he had forgotten about it, considering that he’d been with you for almost an hour.
“take care and have fun for the rest of the day!” taeyoung ruffled your hair and left. his touch lingering.
your room suddenly felt empty. as if taeyoung had taken all the vibrancy it had after stepping out of it. taeyoung was your paradox— a home that housed nothing but emotions you shouldn’t regard as home, but you did. he was your home.
you coughed, a petal threatening to escape. the windpipe blocked, your chest tightening. a sorrowful smile was your only answer to the ache that was resurfacing. your gaze didn't falter, still locked on the photograph of the blue rose. to no one in particular, few words were whispered, “they are beautiful.”
“remind me again why i’m here with you?” woobin looked at the almost empty store; sleepwears displayed from the first showcase up to the last rack. it was a week after the first anniversary of your book, things had seemed to tranquil much more.
shopping during the working hours on weekdays was certainly one of the best things. the absence of people led to different advantages like having no long queue to the cashier, no people to deal with as you browse the clothes, and overall just serene shopping.
you didn’t mind it when a salesperson would go and ask you about what type or design you were looking for, they were probably getting bored having to stand for a long time and entertain just a few passing potential customers. the mall’s theme song was playing from a distant speaker, almost inaudible and muffled by the sweet piano music playing in the shop itself. keeping it up to the theme of the shop, if there was a bed in there, you’d probably be brought to sleep right after. something you weren’t sure to consider as a good aspect or bad aspect of the clothing store.
“well, you just finished posting another wonderful cover which hit a hundred thousand views in an hour, we must celebrate, right?” you replied as you picked up a pair of pastel plaid pajamas, checking the fabric quality to which you quickly marked as spandex.
woobin reached for the design next to what you picked up, eyeing it with less interest than you had. “but why are we buying pajamas?”
“because i need it.” a chuckle was heard from you after he let go of a sigh at your words. you stepped closer to him, peering over his shoulder to check the design he was checking.
“by the way,” he began, not wanting to ask more as he was aware of your love for comfortable clothes (pajamas being the top of it along with sweaters and hoodies). “i’m applying for a job in this pharmaceutical company located in another town as a medicinal chemist.”
“oh? the one you mentioned before?” you watched him go through another set of sleepwear.
it was a sudden reminder that before being known as the seo woobin who sang various songs in innumerable gigs and had built a name in the music side of youtube, he was the seo woobin who excelled in his major, organic chemistry. for years of him not applying for an actual job as a chemist anywhere and pursuing his dream career, that fact was swept out of your mind.
you met woobin in one of your electives— a chemistry class that you would probably have to retake only if he didn’t help you out. the limited slots in language classes were the ones you put your blame on, but it wasn’t completely that bad. after all, you had ended up making a good friend in the class you despised the most.
“are you going to quit singing?” worry was painted all over your face which earned a soft amused laughter from woobin. you adore his singing a lot, the comfort his mellifluous voice could bring was distinct, something you’d grown ever so fond of.
“you know, i just want to put my degree into proper use.” woobin smiled reassuringly as he tossed you a set of pajamas with the design he guessed was what you were searching for, the one with doodled roses decorating it from bottom to the top. “kind of had the urge to get a secured job.”
the clothing dumped to you went unnoticed as you fired off another question. “what about the album deal? i thought you already had one. what’s going to happen with that?”
“i will still sing.” there was no need to doubt woobin’s calm tone as he said those words. “don’t worry about it. i love singing and i’ll not stop doing it.”
“make sure to.” you walked towards another rack, finally noticing the pajamas woobin had thrown in your way earlier. staring at it for a moment, the initial thoughts about the flower easily came into your head. “this one’s cute. i’ll take it.”
unconvinced, woobin raised a brow at you. “are you sure you found it cute or there’s another reason behind you liking it?”
the other reason he was pertaining to was clear, enough to become a slap rather than a mere reminder. do you really like it or do you simply want the person you like to notice you for having something close to their favorite thing?
feeling lost to your own set of likes seemed like a normal thing. mind plagued with taeyoung’s interests that it mattered more than yours. at this point, you weren’t sure if you were doing it for him to like you back and finally get the fuzzy feeling of being loved back or you were simply desperate to stop the flowers from budding in your chest.
“i like it,” you answered after a long while of spacing out. you even nodded your head as if trying to convince yourself from a statement you weren’t sure whether to label as a lie or a truth.
“if you say so.” an indistinct sigh came across woobin, subtly shaking his head in disbelief. he didn’t go deeper into the topic though, instead uttered some words that made a bright smile grace your lips. “go and choose whichever you want. it’s on me today.”
wearing the new pair of a loose shirt and pajama, you gazed at your reflection. a curve spotted on your lips, satisfied with the new purchase. demeanor dropping as a familiar sensation crawled up to your senses. the calm night was taken aback when your chest began tightening. a petal quickly rising, stuck on your throat afterward as you tried to hold it in. however, it was a failed attempt. the urge strong that you had to run towards the bathroom to release all the petals of the vivid red rose that nurtured in your body, watered with nothing but unreturned affection.
just like any other night, the sickness came to do its visit. its terrible reminder playing in your mind. the blood that mingled with the petals was hard to discern as they were colored in the same hue; it tasted different though.
a ringing in your head as your vision started to blur, not noticing how tears had formed in your eyes as the pain emerged to be stronger than it usually was. the intensifying ache wasn’t the only one that made your tears fall. all your unnoticed efforts, regardless of how big they were, were the ones that brought salty tears. your knees buckled, allowing you to meet the ground unceremoniously. it was getting harder to breathe and the cold bathroom tiles were your only company.
it was a twisted melody. in each cough, petals would escape. it didn’t even take a long time for you to be surrounded by a sea of red petals. what a sickening view, you thought. how do people regard roses as something so beautiful?
a memory.
“dear, taeyoung is outside, waiting for you.” a few knocks on the door accompanied your mother’s call.
it was a hot summer, the sun giving no mercy with its ray as if angry with how it was neglected during the cold seasons. with a few remaining days before the start of a new quarter, you probably had spent most of your time in your room. oftentimes will you go out only at the call of a childhood friend.
“y/n.” as if stepping out of your thoughts, taeyoung had your name wrapped by his cheerful voice. “mom made homemade ice cream. come on, get out of your room already.”
if your own mother wasn’t able to pull you out of your room, taeyoung was. your feet quick to move as you checked on your reflection by the mirror, practicing a smile and some silent dialogues. all to which you weren’t really able to show when you opened the door. a faint blush crept on your cheeks as soon as your gaze landed on the bright smile taeyoung had on his own. butterflies flew free in your stomach, heart pounding.
maybe it was the way taeyoung would talk to you with an unmatched enthusiasm even if your words make no sense. maybe it was because of the vibrancy he had all around him that simply could bring comfort to anyone he was with. maybe it was due to the fact that he had been with you since you were a kid.
or maybe it was just because he was him, kim taeyoung, that your crush began budding as a love. and as soon as it did, his favorite flower, a rose, was caught in your lungs during middle school.
occupied by the sensation, your mind didn’t attend to the continuous doorbells ringing in your apartment. in a few, the door was opened, rushed footsteps along with your name uttered in sheer concern echoed in your unit. with the air knocked out by the relentless flower, from red your vision turned pitch black.
when dusk fell, woobin was already in the hospital with a drink in his hand, which was meant to be given to you. he’d been going back and forth to the hospital and his apartment to bring you food and some other items you needed.
the scene he witnessed last night was still fresh in his mind, the panic lingering. on your cold bathroom floor, you laid unconscious with petals of roses surrounding your figure. he was swift to get help, which ended up with you having to stay for almost a day in the lonely ward. your room making you feel sicker.
“oh, you’re back?” serim, the head nurse and a close friend of woobin, said as he walked towards the other.
woobin nodded, tracing the track he’d been stepping into since this morning. it was as if he could easily go to your room even with eyes closed. serim followed from behind and before he could say a word, woobin had already found your room empty. finally, he offered the nurse attention. “where’s y/n? already discharged?”
“yes, they just went to talk with their doctor for a few more reminders.” serim shook his head disapprovingly. “they should stay longer, but they seem like a very busy person.”
“y/n should just follow their doctor.” a sigh punctuated woobin’s sentence.
“and you should too,” said serim.
woobin began walking his way back to the nurse station reception to wait for you. “my case is different.”
“you’re slowly losing your voice because of your own sickness.” serim’s sigh was way heavier than woobin’s, his orbitals painted with worry. being one of woobin’s closest friends, he knew all about it. “orchids are blooming in your lungs, how are you different?”
a glare was darted to serim’s direction which became woobin’s sole reply since they both saw you approaching them. serim hunched his shoulders up, shaking his head once again before walking away.
“thank you for taking care of me,” you told woobin who handed you the drink he bought outside.
“of course,” woobin said, leading the way out.
there weren't a lot of people in the lobby. only a few were there, either the nurses turning for their night shifts or the relatives of those people staying in the hospital for the night.
“it’s getting worse, isn’t it?” woobin’s words slowed down your pace, your head turned to him as he continued. “shouldn’t you start trying to move on and finding someone who can actually love you back?”
“what do you mean?”
woobin shrugged. “it seems like it’s the only way for you to be properly healed.”
yes, moving on and falling for someone else was a considered cure as well. a change of feelings could remove the flower naturally. but doing so was easier said than done.
a sad smile became evident on your brim. how could you do that? you thought. “i can’t just fall in love with someone like it’s nothing, woobin.”
“give me a chance then.”
woobin’s words were powerful enough to make your feet stop from moving, to catch your breath and make it halt. it can’t be. you looked at him confused, wishing that you misunderstood what he said. you wished that it would be his regular sentences as he tried to make you feel better. you wished what you were thinking was a mere thought, an idea, a false gut feeling. “woobin?”
it was a question that didn’t need any elaboration. the simple call of his name with such perplexed tone was enough as a query. the same gloomy smile on his lips matched what you had earlier, accompanied by his faint chuckles. “yes,” to your horror, he confirmed. he let go of a breath, something that gave him a boost to finally utter the words he’d been meaning to say. “i’m in love with you and all i want is for the flowers in your chest to stop blossoming.”
“that means…”
to experience the same thing you had been experiencing. to give someone the same taste of your suffering. to plant a flower in someone’s chest and water it every day as you were failing to return their provided affection. it was something you didn’t wish to do, an extremely unfavorable idea which reminded you of how the universe had been unfair from the very start.
“yes, and they aren’t beautiful.” a tight-lipped smile became apparent on his countenance as he stared at the glass doors of the hospital. a few more steps and both of you will be out of the place the two of you frequented on different days, but for the same means— a fleeting cure for the ache caused by hanahaki. “the pain we’re both carrying out of unrequited love. it isn’t beautiful, y/n.”
a lump in your throat stopped any possible reply from coming out of your lips. you wanted to apologize, but an apology from taeyoung wasn’t the thing you’d want to hear from him after you confess and you assumed such wouldn’t give comfort to woobin as well. an apology wouldn’t be enough when you were already striping away someone with their lives.
rather untimely, the door opened, revealing taeyoung. he was holding a basket of flowers, probably for some kind of delivery. with hinted concern, he walked towards you and woobin. “what are you doing here?”
“stomach ache.” regardless of your mangled thoughts, it was a surprise that you were able to respond as soon. it was as if such sickness was a practiced lie.
“is that so?” taeyoung looked at woobin to confirm and the older just nodded not wanting to speak more. he turned to you, his worry dropping a few levels, but was still obvious. “let me just bring this flower to a friend and i’ll walk you home. will that be alright?”
you looked at woobin, silently asking if he would be okay with that. it was such a silly act, of course, he would be against it. but what can he do? just like him, the person you had grown fond of hasn't reciprocated your feelings yet. both of you probably wishing the same thing— for the flowers to wither and be gone. for the restless nights to end. to be loved back. the only difference was woobin was so focused on you that he had forgotten about his condition which was worsening at the same rate as yours.
he patted your shoulder. “sure, i need to head somewhere else anyway. get home safely?”
“i will, you too, woobin.” you gave woobin a smile, guilt sitting in your stomach which was continuously twisting.
woobin weakly mirrored the feature before turning his back to you and taeyoung. as he was stepping out of the establishment, he looked at the twinkling stars, hoping this night would be kinder. but he was certain he’d be the one coughing out orchids tonight, probably worse than your roses.
the stars from above watched you and taeyoung walk on the now empty sidewalk. even without the illumination coming from the lampposts, it was all so bright. all in gratitude for the moon which served as a ball of shining light in the clear night sky.
"you've been sick since we were kids, but you never told me what with." taeyoung broke the silence, uncertain if he should go further. “was it really because of stomach ache earlier?”
a chill ran down your spine, making you inwardly shiver. that wasn’t the talk you were so ready to face. and after what happened last night, you can’t simply bring another lie. however, telling taeyoung everything wasn’t something you planned to do as well. afraid that rejection would become the final straw.
taeyoung stopped dead on his tracks, looking at you with nothing but sheer concern. “is there anything bothering you?”
you gave him a smile which was obviously forced. “don’t worry about it.” you urged him to continue to walk and he did, but just as you thought that you were already safe from his questions, he asked another.
“it’s not a stomach ache wasn’t it?” hands on his back, his gaze was fixated on the road. “what was it, y/n?”
maybe it was time to tell taeyoung about it? maybe— “hanahaki.” the words subconsciously slipped out of your tongue.
“what?” surprised by the mention of the disease, his eyes were wide when he whipped his head to your direction. “you mean… your love is unrequited?”
taeyoung was quick to catch the gist of the disease. it was pretty much a popular sickness that had probably made some of his other friends suffer. the only thing he wasn’t quick to get was… who your feelings were for.
“woobin doesn’t like you back?” he asked, snapping you out of your thoughts which was purely of practicing the possible explanations if he ended up recognizing your feelings for him. and apparently, he didn’t.
it was your turn to shoot him a look. “what?”
“don’t you like woobin?” he averted his gaze and it trailed back to the road. “i mean the two of you seem like really close friends and you’re together most of the time.”
you didn’t know whether you should be relieved or not. but since you were still unprepared to offer any explanation, you just went with the flow. a bitter smile coming to your lips. your head had his name on your sentence, regardless of how you uttered another man’s name. “yes, i like woobin. but it seems like he doesn’t feel the same way.”
“maybe you should… try moving on?”
the way taeyoung suggested the same thing made you laugh, confusing the person beside you. to move on, huh? was that what the universe wanted you to do? to move on? a smile lingered on your visage, as you stepped on the stairs with taeyoung following you behind. it was just funny how he thought you were in love with woobin, when in fact the flower he adored the most was living in your lungs. that he was the person you were in love with, not any other person.
stopping at the front step, the worry that sat on his orbitals didn’t waver. the look asking if you’d be alright tonight— you already knew the answer. “take care, okay? if you need anything, just call me. good night.”
as soon as you closed the door, it began. the coughing that seemingly just waited for you to step into your unit came rushing. a petal waving in the air before meeting the ground. “i need your love, taeyoung. i badly need it.”
the smell of freshly done pancakes wafted up to your bed, a few noises coming from the kitchen followed. it was a gentle alarm that pushed you to wake up and get out of your bed. too groggy, a foot still on the dream you were having, you didn’t think that whoever was in the kitchen could be a thief or anything. well, who in their proper mind would cook food for the owner of the house if they were only to snatch things after?
a few days ago, you had an extreme case of hanahaki, something that led you to stay in the hospital overnight. after that, it had seemed to subside or at least be more gentle during the evening, resulting in more hours of sleep.
“woobin?” you called his name as you watched him turn off the stove, placing the fluffy pancakes onto a plate. there was already a hot chocolate ready for you to drink. you didn’t even question how he got inside. probably jungmo, the landowner, gave him the code to your room. oh, talk about privacy.
his smile was as warm as the morning sunrays. “good morning.” his voice was a little hoarse, normally you wouldn’t really pay attention to that. when he recorded songs too much in a day, he’d end up with such. but now that you knew he was experiencing hanahaki, a question hung in your head. was it because of the coughing? your thoughts dropped at the sound of his voice, still mellow regardless. “i’ve cooked you breakfast.”
“don’t you have work to do?” you asked, remembering how during the past days he’d been telling you about his new work— the slot in that pharmaceutical company as a medicinal chemist. you dragged a chair before occupying it, looking at him as he placed all the things he used in the sink. a curve became visible on your lips as your eyes fell to what he prepared. it was just pancakes, but it was woobin’s pancakes. he was such an amazing cook, you could vouch for that. “thank you by the way.”
“work? ah yeah.” he took the seat adjacent to yours, a cup of coffee in his hands. he grinned at you and you swore, your heart was in ultimate chaos when you heard his next words. “i took on the job of taking care of you for free starting today.”
sunlight filtered through the glass door of the flower shop, highlighting the wide variety of spring flowers. ranunculus, tulips, and calla lilies were all displayed along with other non-seasonal plants. there weren't a lot of customers coming, given that there were flowers available to be picked up in some public gardens. regardless, there were still a few who would come and get flowers arranged for some special occasions. but then again, it was just morning. it was rather too early to judge the possible count of customers later.
“jungmo’s coughing out petals now,” allen, one of the workers in the flower shop. said.
taeyoung looked at him, pausing his actions of tying a yellow ribbon in the bouquet of tulips. with a brow raised, he asked, “hanahaki?”
putting the freshly done arrangement of peonies, allen tapped on the counter which called the attention of the delivery man. he pointed out the card which contained the address and watched the other go out to deliver the item. dragging a stool to sit on, he stretched his arms. “seems to be. he’s coughing out petals of his crush’s favorite flower, crocus. i don’t think it’s a mere crush now though.”
“oh, so the flower that blooms in a body experiencing hanahaki would be the favorite flower of the person they like?” taeyoung asked as he finished the bouquet he was working on. he retrieved stems of roses and cut them nicely, removing the thorns and excess leaves.
“yes,” allen replied. “you like roses right?”
taeyoung only nodded, a memory alighting in his head. it can’t be—
“that means the person who likes you, but ends up with a one-sided love would end up having roses in their chest,” allen continued, causing taeyoung’s hand to stop from moving. the younger’s eyes fixated on the collection of red roses in his hands.
“it’s my favorite,” taeyoung mused.
there was a smile that sat on your lips, a peck of gloom decorating its corners. “i know.”
the flower growing in your chest was his favorite flower, roses?
it was him all this time?
right at that moment, there was one thing taeyoung would want to address himself as. an idiot. realizations came crashing to him like a powerful wave that held no mercy. it was ice cold, his body freezing at each thought that his mind welcomed.
the petals he found on your desk weren't there because of a silly game of he loves me, he loves me not. it was the petals you coughed out and forgot to clean.
“are you okay?” allen asked, momentarily snapping taeyoung out of his daze.
the twisting on taeyoung stomach was unbearable. his heart racing not with flutters, but rather with anxious thoughts. he was the cause of your pain?
with an almost inaudible voice, taeyoung let out of his horror. “y/n likes me.”
continuous taps on the keyboard, words appearing on the screen only for the flow to stop with punctuation. in sync, the doorbell rang. you no longer wondered who it was. it had always been him.
you stood up and shuffled towards the door, opening it before welcoming the male with a warm curve in your face. “it’s lunch already?”
woobin nodded, handing you a bag of still hot dishes he cooked probably not more than an hour ago. he followed you as you made your way to the dining area. when the male said he’d be taking care of you starting that specific breakfast, he stuck to his words, visiting you almost every day. the only exception was when he had to meet a producer. his own album was in the process of being finalized.
you placed the bag down and woobin walked towards your cupboard. where to find the things was already memorized. it was as if he was living in the very unit.
“so how’s your morning?” he asked as he placed two plates on the table.
“woke up a bit late, but i was able to finish the last set of poetry i’ve been meaning to write!” the spark in your eyes was a lot brighter than the past days. it was easily contagious as woobin found himself having the same amount of glee. “i’ll print the last parts and let you read, wait.”
woobin shook his head, a smile crossing his brim as he watched you go to your workspace to do what you said. as he finished setting up your lunch, he took a seat and waited for you. just like you, woobin was experiencing fewer symptoms. his voice was no longer that raspy and he was able to post new song covers almost every week regardless of his current busy schedule with other recordings.
“here!” with unwavering enthusiasm, you extended your hand for him to reach the printed papers. you sat on the seat across him, gazing at the food which only made your mouth water. eyes already feeding off the sight of the meat dishes.
“this is quite interesting,” woobin remarked. “is this the last one?”
you nodded at his words when he showed you the last page. “i figured that it could be the best way to end it.”
“it sure does.” woobin served you by putting meat on the top of your rice. “eat up.”
just like the past days, you enjoyed lunch with woobin. a few talks here and there, though most of the time the two of you were silent. not the terrible kind of silence, but a good one. something comforting. and maybe that kind of silence was all you needed.
after the meal, the two of you sat on the couch. the television served as background noise as you run down the things you have to do this afternoon.
“you seem to be happier the past days, did you get yourself another contract?” woobin asked once you were done telling him where to drive you today, the flower shop and to your editor’s place.
“i do?” you caught sight of the lone photograph of roses on your wall. the poetry that accompanied it once was now resting on your table. “i haven’t been coughing recently.” your cheerfulness evident when your eyes wrinkled into crescents as you turned your head towards the direction where woobin was sitting. “maybe he’s starting to like me!”
a soft beam hugged woobin’s visage, contented with the result you were having. for your own flower to stop blooming, that was all he wished for. his mind got him best though, speaking without much thought as he eyed the last poem you wrote once again. “or maybe you’re starting to like him less.”
blinking in confusion, woobin handed you back the printed papers you gave him earlier. it was on the last page. the words were probably a clear indication of your feelings.
zest gone.
pen dropped.
book closed.
lock kept.
no word
survived.
those words weren’t the most gleeful of words, but it carried freedom. something you’d been wishing you could get out of taeyoung’s labyrinth of roses. something you never knew would finally come to you.
“right?” woobin pulled you out of your own thoughts. “i’ve been coughing less as well and i can guarantee that you’re the only one i like.”
“that means…?”
“you’re slowly moving on, y/n.” woobin gave your head a light pat. his beam growing warmer as he looked at you. “you’re moving on.”
before going to the place where you were to meet your editor, you asked woobin to stop by the flower shop. knowing your editor, she’d probably love some dahlias and irises.
upon entering the shop, the same floral scent you had been accustomed to since you were younger embraced you. however, instead of taeyoung greeting you, the expression in his face— wide eyes after a gasp— was a little perplexing. you raised a brow at him, stepping closer to the counter with woobin following you from behind.
“dah—”
“can we have a moment?” taeyoung’s question interrupted your own set of words.
with a head tilted to the side, you didn’t make an effort to hide your confusion. the seemingly forced smile he had, which was quite too awkward for your liking was not a help at all. you turned to look at woobin, asking if it would be alright for him to wait. “will it be okay?”
“sure.” woobin shrugged, trying to act as nonchalant as he could. something he was successful in doing so. “i’ll buy you a drink while i wait. just send me a message if you’re done.”
“thank you, woobin.” and with those words said, you watched woobin leave the establishment. as soon as he did, your stomach sunk. there was no one else in the flower shop, it seemed like the other staff had already left.
taeyoung gestured to you to sit on an empty stool next to the counter, but you declined. instead, you leaned to it, urging him to speak what he wanted to talk about. he wasn’t the kind to be hesitant with such, but now, it was as if his tongue was tied in hundreds of knots and words can’t just be delivered.
“you’re experiencing hanahaki, right?” a stiff start. not only you, but taeyoung could feel how unnatural it sounded. no cheeky grins, no bright tone. it was flat and dripping with nervousness you weren’t aware taeyoung could be under the state of. “how are you?”
“i’m alright.” you chuckled at his words, letting loose of the already tensed atmosphere. as much as you were nervous for what was to come, you didn’t want it to spread on your formerly cheerful mood. “come on, taeyoung. i’m not going to be mad or anything.”
it partially helped taeyoung who had a small smile on his visage. but his eyes were still unable to meet yours as he locked his gaze on something else, the flowers healthily blooming inside the shop. “you were coughing out… roses, right?”
you hummed as a reply. finally taking the offer to sit. “yes, your favorite.”
“that means that you like me?” taeyoung took the seat next to your stool.
surprisingly, instead of worrying about how your little secret got figured out, you had an opposite feeling. you were relieved. there was no anxiety about him giving you the possibly worst rejection, no concern about how he could possibly shatter a thorned heart.
whatever made him realize such a thing, you were thankful. at least you no longer have to go through excessive explanations.
but there was something you would want to clarify.
“i used to like you a lot,” you said, giving an emphasis to the phrase: used to. a relieved sigh left your lips, satisfied with how everything was happening. it wasn’t as bad as you imagined. “you don’t have to worry now though, i’m gradually moving on.”
“still. you had to suffer from that for years,” he trailed. “i’m sorry.”
“it’s okay taeyoung.” your tight-lipped smile turned into a genuine one. the moment you shifted your gaze to look at taeyoung, you met his eyes. regardless of the pain it brought you, there was in no way you saw yourself blaming taeyoung. you liked him. and that summed it up. “your brightness was a blessing and never did i regret liking you despite the thorns and petals brought by it.”
his slightly soaked eyes were an indication of his former worry, which was slowly being washed away by a good amount of reassurance. “i’m glad.”
“you no longer have to worry about the roses, taeyoung.” stripping down the photographs on your wall for the past days, you replaced them with other photographs. you were sure the delusion was coming to an end. yes, the roses were indeed beautiful. but its thorn wasn’t as astonishing. “it’s withering.”
a stray tear slipped out of your eye and taeyoung didn’t only catch the tear, his arms were wrapped around you in such a warm hug. you were sure no petals would come out of your lips again. the warmth that embraced your body conveyed a closing home.
it’s time to move out and find a home that has no garden.
you no longer despised the spring. the beautiful flowers surrounding the town were no longer catching distasteful looks from you. your lungs free from spring. hand wrapped around woobin’s, the warm rays of the remaining afternoon sunlight filtered through the thick leaves of the trees the two of you would pass by.
another book was published, all containing the last words for your former muse. the title didn’t hide anything, quite an obvious choice: kalopsia.
three times a week you would go out for a book signing while woobin, now your boyfriend, would fetch you every time. he was busy himself with the recording of his album which was to be released by the end of the month. but he never missed going to the venue where your book signing would take place. by now, he probably had about nine signed copies of your book.
“you experienced hanahaki as well, right?” you asked woobin as you passed by a shop that had orchids hanging on the wall. petals of lush yellow, pink and purple decorating it.
woobin chuckled, taken aback by your unexpected question. “i did.”
“how was it?”
“it was weird. i mean coughing out petals so suddenly.” he looked at you, only to see your furrowed brows. something that made him laugh once again. “what do you expect me to answer?”
“that made you realize that you like me?”
“don’t be silly. even before the first petal left my lips, i knew i already liked you.” a contented smile graced his brim. even before that, the way his heart would thump in his chest as if it had run a marathon, the way a dumb smile would hang on his lips once he saw you, the way he would be subconsciously adoring you while you were busy writing, the way he wanted to be beside you, the way he wished to hold you closer— it all happened before a petal of orchid escaped the confines of his mouth.
a faint blush became apparent on your cheeks, giving it such a cute color. “and up until now you still like me…”
“correction, it’s liked. past tense,” woobin said, laughing at how your expression shifted. he took a big step and stopped right in front of you, he turned to face you with his hand still holding yours. “now, i love you.”
the weather wasn’t as hot since the sun was preparing for the twilight, but your cheeks were. it was accompanied by the wild flutters in your stomach. letting go of woobin’s hand (a reflex to hide how flustered his words got you), your ears were enveloped by his sweet, sweet chuckle. you walked past through him in such rushed footsteps, a peal of laughter escaping your lips as you did so. “i can’t believe you had to say that in that way.”
however, you were not even that far from him when woobin caught you. your steps halted when he locked you in a back hug, giving your cheek a light peck which simply made it more flushed. “i love you more than you’d ever know,” he carefully whispered to your ear.
you chuckled at the gestures, his words tickling you. regardless of how playful it seemed to be, you knew woobin was dead serious with it. he detached himself from you, only to hold your hand once more and walk beside you.
glancing at your interlaced fingers, you leaned your head to his shoulder. “i love you too, woobin.”
“i love you so much, y/n,” he replied, gently squeezing your hand.
to be able to look at the flowers without thinking about how they budded in your body, to rest every evening without worrying about the petals disrupting your serene night, to be right next to the person you love and loves you, there was nothing else you could wish for.
the flowers in your chest had long ago stopped blooming. it went the same way with woobin. but little did you know... orchids started blooming on someone else’s body, slowly growing on the chest of the person who once caused you to have roses hugging your lungs.
and just like how you first found those roses beautiful, taeyoung thought those orchids were too.
#cravity imagines#cravitywriters#cravity oneshots#cravity x reader#kpop imagines#seo woobin#kim taeyoung#woobin x reader#taeyoung x reader#cravity
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