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harksness · 13 days

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Coffee Cake

A/N: ok i don't know a ton about whats going on in the show ive mostly just watched the trailers but i did hear rio is apparently gonna be agathas ex? so that's kinda what i based this around lol if i'm missing any other info thats why tho,, i dont really care for spoilers i just havent been seeking them out yk so i hope this is good!!! im nervous i missed something important but i hope yall like it aidhsjdj :')

the request!

Warnings: None I think?

WC: 3.7K

Agatha Harkness is a greedy, selfish woman who will do anything for power. You know this much about her is true.

It’s what made you so cautious of her at first. So reluctant to agree to join her and her little band of misfit mages when she sought you out in your dingy little magic shop.

She approached you with a sly grin and praise, telling you that she could see the potential in you. How strong your magic could be and how she can help you harness it.. If you let her.

Everyone that’s remotely aware of the magical world knows about the cruel and crazy Agatha Harkness. But for you, she’s never just been a story to be gossiped about. She’s been a semi-regular customer since you inherited the shop. She’s stopped by for your services once every few months, except for that long gap recently where she was trapped, since you’re able to provide supplies and books for spells that aren’t so easily attainable.

You know she was also an avid customer of your fathers, but he wouldn’t let you around if he knew someone dangerous would be dropping by. So it wasn’t until your father passed away five years ago and you inherited the shop that you really met Agatha. Ever since, she’s been a cautious acquaintance. Someone vaguely on your radar.

You didn’t even consider the possibility of you being on her radar too.

After dwelling on her offer for a few days, reluctantly, you agreed to it. And even more reluctantly, you allowed them all to meet up in the basement of your little magic shop once in a while.

But you remained wary of the older witch. She followed up on her promise to help you grow your knowledge of magic and expand your abilities. But as the two of you spent more time together, you began to warm up to her and she started opening up to you. Her smooth sense of humor and jokes didn’t all seem like a ploy to get you to let your guard down anymore.. You could tell by her soft smiles that weren’t there before that she just enjoyed making you laugh.

And after some time, Agatha started to show a genuine curiosity in you outside of magic. Your life, interests, family, and she even went out of her way to compliment you. She had never done that before. She was putting a lot of effort into really helping you grow, and you were becoming rather grateful for her.

Your father always pushed the importance of knowing how to supply witches properly. Knowing everything you could possibly know about herbs, potions, crystals, tarot, spells and how to attain them, but not much practice or knowledge in the way of making it all work effortlessly together by yourself. Or even much in the ways of wielding your own magic, for that matter. You’ve always wanted to know more, but your father was adamant against it. So you just settled until now.

You would have late nights spent alone amongst the dust and boxes in the basement of your shop, her hands running over yours to adjust the way you wield your magic during different spells. How close the two of you would get under the bright, fluorescent lights hanging over your head.. And how inevitably, you’d long forget about the lessons and would favor sitting and chatting about anything and everything into the early hours of the morning, perched on an uncomfortable fold out chair that makes your ass hurt but every second was worth it to be with her.

Agatha Harkness is all of those horrible things that you mentioned before. But she’s also so genuinely funny and effortlessly charming, intensely passionate and caring despite those flaws.

You were warming up to her more than you realized. You would frantically practice magic in your time apart, desperate to impress her and earn her praise. Laughing just a bit louder at her jokes and wearing your hair the way she complimented. Picking out more clothes like the ones she said look lovely on you..

You weren’t simply warming up to her. The obvious soon smacked you in the face that you were tumbling down a rabbit hole of romantic feelings for the woman. The realization came in the simplest of ways, Agatha brought you coffee from your favorite cafe down the road that you pass every day on your way to work. She remembered your favorite order and your favorite treat, a proud little smile on her face as she handed you the food. And everything about your developing feelings smacked into you like a semi truck.

Panic coursed through you. You didn’t know what to do, you couldn’t hide these feelings forever. It would become obvious eventually with the amount of time you were spending together and gosh, what then? How would you deal with the suffocating embarrassment of being turned down by her?

She’s the Agatha Harkness. One of the most infamous and influential witches in history, hundreds of years old and a historic icon.. She would never want someone like you. She’s important. She commands powerful, intense magic, goes on great adventures. Her daily life is what great legends and myths are composed of. Agatha’s leaving her mark on the world.

While you’re just here in your rundown store.. Taking orders at your shop, helping people select which crystals they need and counting your register.

You’re lucky enough to play a part in her story, even if it’s just a small one. Even if it’s just supplying her with what she needs and supporting her. Hopefully, when the legend of Agatha Harkness is told for years to come, your name can be mentioned in a brief line.

As if all of those self deprecating, existential feelings weren’t bad enough, Rio soon waltzed into your little group and things were made even more complicated.

It was impossible not to notice the tension between Agatha and Rio. the way their gazes lingered on each other.. Words exchanged that seemed flirty but you couldn’t really tell if that was the case or if you were just jealous, the constant sneaking off together and being found passionately exchanging soft words. And you just felt shoved to the side, pushed out.

No more did you and Agatha have long nights spent in the basement of your shop. You’d slink away from the group the second you got the chance and gave up trying to get Agatha’s attention. Or when you had to stick around, you’d cling to Billy or the lovely Mrs. Hart. The few moments you were able to finally get to Agatha, Rio would always conveniently swoop in and steal her attention away, so you didn’t even bother after long. You felt defeated.

But once in a while, you’d catch her bright blue eyes catching on you. Gaze lingering, features creased with conflict. Once in a while, it seemed as if Agatha was trying to work her way over to you and Rio would conveniently step in the way. Or maybe you’re just being too hopeful.

Already having felt unworthy of Agatha’s attention, you quickly accepted your fate. Rio is so much more powerful and worth Agatha’s time, it makes sense why she’d ditch you for her. But that doesn’t take away from the fact that it feels like a knife was planted in your gut, and it twists every time you see the two of them lingering together.

Eventually, you were so overwhelmed that you just needed a break. So you locked yourself in your little apartment and slept in as late as you could, just wanting to ignore your complicated feelings and problems for one day.

But then you made the mistake of deciding that a little treat would be the best way to give yourself some comfort. So, you exited your little apartment a bit after eleven in the morning, desperately craving your favorite coffee and regular breakfast treat.

Walking back home, you were happily sipping on your coffee but disappointed that your favorite breakfast was all out by the time you got there. So instead you grabbed a coffee cake, happy with it but some of your excitement was stomped out at the fact that it’s not what you were craving, but it will do. You have to eat something.

Your steps come to a sudden halt when you see Agatha a few buildings ahead of you, and you notice she’s at your apartment door. Peeking in your window and taking a step back to do her best to look into the windows of your home situated above the little store.

You’re so surprised that you’re not able to act quickly enough to avoid her eyes inevitably falling onto you when she turns her head. The street is vacant of any other people, presumably all at their regular nine to fives instead of in the back streets of the city with little stores that aren’t needed much at this time of day.

Her stressed features relax when she sees you, and she’s immediately moving down the sidewalk towards you. The wind catches her long braid and the end of her open black coat, and she’s wearing a white button up and skinny jeans underneath. She bobs with the intensity of each step she takes towards you, and you notice a coffee and a little brown bag pinched between her fingers.

Well. Deciding that there’s no avoiding it, you begin to nervously walk towards her, eventually meeting her almost halfway.

“Where have you been!?”

Agatha exclaims, almost a shout but not quite. It takes you a bit off guard, her features stern with worry and frustration.

“I just decided to stay home today, I needed a day off..”

You speak softly, feeling yourself growing anxious under her gaze. You glance around nervously, unable to decide whether to settle your eyes on the cracked pavement beneath your feet, the large “for sale” sign hanging from a window of an abandoned store across the road, or the trash can sitting outside of the little sandwich shop to your left that closes too early in the day.

“I feel like I haven’t seen much of you lately, I’ve been worried..”

Agatha’s voice drops into something softer when she says that. Your chest tightens at her words, concern heavy in her stunning blue eyes as she regards you for a moment, silence overtaking the two of you. You want to grab her and shake her and yell at her because it’s her fault you haven’t seen each other much, but from the tenderness in her voice and her eyes you don’t have the heart to be angry right now.

“Let’s go up to my apartment and we can talk.”

You gesture back to the door she was just standing outside of. Agatha glances behind her before nodding her head, silence overtaking the two of you as you walk back towards your home. You walk by the barber shop that’s already closed for the day, it’s run by the sweetest little old man that doesn’t have much energy for it anymore, and find your front door.

You fumble with the lock for a moment before it opens and you begin leading her up the narrow, lopsided stairs of the old apartment building. She closes and locks the door behind her as she does so, and once you reach the top of the stairs, you unlock the second door and hold it open for her as she steps into your little old one bedroom apartment.

It’s nice and cheap enough to keep you happy and living comfortably. It has a sizable living room and kitchen, a big bedroom and a bathroom with a washer and dryer crammed into it. There’s no dishwasher, but air conditioning and more than enough space for you and all of your stuff so you absolutely can’t complain. Luckily enough, you do know enough magic to make doing the dishes a lot less of a task.

And with the barber shop below you being closed most of your time home, anyways, you don’t have to worry much about being disturbed or disturbing any neighbors. It’s quiet, cute, and it has everything you need. It’s decorated with everything you love, it feels so homey and comfortable and.. You.

Agatha seems to notice that right away, all of your negative feelings momentarily being forgotten and a warmth spreading throughout your chest as a soft smile spreads on her face at the sight of your little home.

She’s looking around as she sets her bag on your dining room chair, abandoning her food from the cafe on your table before she starts to look around. She looks over all the pictures on your fridge, and you can tell she’s really stopping to take them in as her smiles shift with each photo she looks over and she lets out little laughs through her nose at some of them.

Agatha looks over all of your little decor strewn about, and any pictures you have hung up on the walls as she takes a step into your living room.

“Your place is so.. You. I love it.”

She speaks softly as she approaches the little table under the window that’s overflowing with your own collection of herbs. She leans down, peering at them and smiling at the little trinkets and crystals that you have planted in the soil of the pots.

You feel your face beginning to flush red at that, everything feeling so sweet and intimate suddenly. You fidget with your coffee as she turns around and continues to poke around your apartment, a look of pure adoration on her features.

“Uh.. Why did you say you were worried about me earlier?”

You speak up suddenly, the words tumbling out of your lips as you hope to distract her from looking around further right now. This moment is too sweet, you need to put a stop to it before you have to spend the rest of your life longingly reflecting on it.

Her gaze flickers towards you. Agatha straightens up, clearing her throat as she moves to sit on your couch, perching gracefully on the edge of her seat.

“I feel like we haven’t seen as much of each other lately... I’m just.. Worried.”

You feel yourself getting gassed up at her words. She’s been pushing you out, spending quality time with Rio and she has the audacity to say that? A deep sigh escapes your lips as you set down your cup of coffee a little more firmly than you would have liked.

“Agatha.. We used to be close. I thought we’d build a really strong…”

You pause awkwardly, a frustrated huff of breath pushing past your closed lips as you try to think of the right word to explain the relationship between the two of you. Agatha quirks an eyebrow curiously at the action.

“...Bond.. But then Rio waltzes in and I’m just forgotten about. You’ve barely talked to me, that’s why you haven’t seen much of me lately. You’ve just been too busy sneaking off and flirting with your green witch."

Your eyes narrow, anger seeping into your words as you spit them at her, folding your arms over your chest and huffing angrily. Agatha stares at you for a moment.

“I like you, Agatha! Fuck! I thought we had something!”

She seems surprised when you shout those words out, silence deafening around your angry words as you gesture between the two of you, doing your best to emphasize what you’re trying to say. Your frustration is boiling over, not caring anymore about the embarrassment of your feelings getting out when she’s being so damn oblivious about how she’s treated you.

“But it’s like you’ve just forgotten all about me.”

Those words are soft and quiet, contrasting your previous ones. A smile quickly breaks out on Agatha’s face, her head tilting back as she laughs, her obnoxiously witchy cackle escaping her lips. You feel your face flush, lips pursing in anger as her laughter crescendos.

“Okay, if my feelings are so funny you can just get out!”

You’re shouting over her laughter now, anger bubbling forward as she immediately stands, smile still on her face as she crosses your apartment over to you.

“Sweetheart, I’m laughing because Rio is my ex. There’s no way in hell I’d ever get back with her. We’ve got a long, complicated history, and I’ve been trying to smooth some things out and figure out the best way to explain everything to you. I felt.. Awkward that my ex barged in on everything.. And I didn’t know what to do.”

Agatha gestures around vaguely as she explains. You feel dumbstruck, your mind numb at the information that was just dumped onto you.

“Especially when I do like you so much… Your ex barging in on everything like that can be a bit of a romance killer..”

You blink dumbly at her, shocked at her first admission of having any sort of romantic feelings for you. She sighs as she begins to walk around the table, analyzing your features for any signs of discomfort as she speaks.

“I like you. A lot. I think you’re such a pretty, sweet little thing that swooped in so unexpectedly and stole my heart in a way I’ve never experienced before..”

You feel your anger and frustration ebbing away at her words, instead your chest fills with excitement. She approaches you, cautiously reaching for your hands. You let her take them, her long, soft fingers wrapping around yours as she tilts her head downwards slightly to meet your gaze, soft smile toying on the edge of her lips.

“I haven’t had my eyes set on anyone but you for a long time. And I’m..”

You can’t help the little smile that forces its way onto your lips as she stumbles through her apology. You think how hard she’s trying is cute, especially with how sincerely she’s trying to make things right for you.

“I’m really sorry about how I dealt with everything.”

The words eventually tumble past her lips, and you squeeze her hands softly as you tilt your head up towards her.

“Thank you.. And yeah, knowing she’s your ex.. That’s pretty awkward. You don’t have to explain everything to me right away, what you’ve said is more than enough.. But.. You’re sure, I mean, about me?”

You ask nervously and she looks confused at your words.

“I mean.. I’m not something great, amazing or infamous like you are. Or Rio.. I’m just some girl who runs a store.”

You simply shrug and she stares at you dumbly for a moment before letting out a noise of disbelief.

“Sweetheart, you’re so much more than that. You have to be extraordinary to catch my eye. Trust me.. You’re something special.”

She speaks the last part softly, the most sincere and adoring gleam lighting up her already bright eyes.

“I don’t want her.”

Agatha gestures vaguely, and you know she’s talking about Rio, and you're appreciative that she’s trying to focus more on this moment being about you.

“I don’t want anyone else.. I just want you. Only you.. And I have for a while now.”

She’s smiling down at you, a soft, fond tone lining her voice that’s going to make you turn to mush any second now. You feel as if your heart is going to burst right out of its chest.

After a pause, you can’t help but lean forward and press your lips against hers, a surge of bravery washing over you at her words. You feel her smiling against your lips as she returns the kiss, her soft mouth moving against yours sweetly as she lets go of one of your hands, raising it to cup your jaw.

Your skin feels electric under her touch, and you crave more of it. Your mouth widens into a big smile, leaning further into her as your head grows fuzzy at her attention, desperately craving more of her.

Her other hand trails up your arm to hold your shoulder, digging her fingers into your skin as she holds you softly, pulling you closer to her. You’re grinning like an idiot against her lips, raising your arms to wrap around the back of her neck to pull her even closer.

She pulls away for a moment to laugh softly against your lips, the two of your eyes meeting for a moment as you smile softly at one another. Her eyes crinkle around the edges in the cutest way. Overwhelming excitement washes over you, the room tense with the giddy-ness of new love and the sweet moment. You lean in to kiss her again, but she speaks before your lips can connect with hers.

“I grabbed your favorite coffee and your favorite treat for you.. But I see you already went out and got some..”

Agatha sounds a bit disappointed that she couldn’t surprise you. But your smile widens at her words, a soft laugh escaping your lips.

“Well.. They were all out of my usual food when I got there, so if you really were able to snatch up my favorite treat I just might have to thank you.”

You wink suggestively at her, and a look of excitement crosses her features.

“Oh? And how would you do that?”

She speaks lowly, teasingly as she leans down towards you.

“It’s your prize, I think you need to tell me what you’d want from me, hm?”

You fight the urge to giggle at the excited grin that grows on her features. Leaning down, her eyes catch on your lips before she softly brushes her nose against yours. The sweetness of the action leaves your mind spinning, dizzy off of the romantic that is Agatha Harkness.

“How about one of these, for starters..”

She’s pressing her lips against yours again. Eagerly, you meet her, pushing your lips into hers. Your arms tighten around her neck, her hands moving downwards to wrap around your waist and you feel like a lovestruck teenager at how your insides turn to mush at the action. Deciding to tease her just a bit, you pull back, just slightly enough to where you can feel the heat of her warm breath brushing against your lips.

“Do you like coffee cake?”

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness/reader #agatha harkness reader insert #agatha harkness #agatha all along #kathryn hahn #wlw fanfiction

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thatsonemorbidcorvid · 5 months

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“An 11-year-old girl who was misdiagnosed with sickness bugs and migraines was assessed by doctors about 30 times before they found that she had a brain tumour, according to her mother.

Tia Gordon, from Northampton, was admitted to hospital as an emergency despite previous visits to GPs, A&E and calls to 111.

Imogen Darby, Tia’s mother, said her daughter’s glasses prescription had also been changed four times before the tumour was found.

Darby had sought help regarding Tia’s migraines and vomiting for more than three years, before being told that the wait for an MRI scan would be at least eight months. It was only when Tia’s balance and ability to walk were affected that she was given an emergency scan, which found a brain tumour measuring about 3.5cm.”

Darby said: “I was told Tia had stomach bugs and migraines. The first thing I was told, because it was the summer, [was that] she just needed to drink more water.

“After probably a year, she got diagnosed with migraines and they gave her paracetamol for that. She was also given another medication for that and her final diagnosis in January from paediatrics was migraine with sickness.

“Over more than three years, I took Tia to doctors, she was refused MRIs, she was refused to be seen by emergency paediatrics, I called 111, I went to A&E. She had her glasses changed four times, she was given medication and she had a consultant, but it took for her to be unable to walk for her to get the care she needed.”

Darby first noticed Tia’s symptoms in March 2020 when she started vomiting with increasing frequency. Darby twice tried to get her daughter referred to emergency paediatrics, but was declined both times and told it was not an emergency.

Later, Tia began holding her neck in an unusual way and complained about stiffness, for which she was referred to a physiotherapist.

Despite several visits to A&E and calls to GPs and the NHS’s 111 service, Tia’s remained undiagnosed. From November 2023 to January 2024, Tia was vomiting violently every day, and began to lose her balance. “She was tipping her milk out in the kitchen sink,” Darby said. “She was standing there and … she didn’t notice she was doing it at all.”

After a phone call from Tia’s school, which said Tia was holding her neck and was off balance, Darby took her to Northampton General Hospital. While there, Tia was unable to walk in a straight line, and a CT scan revealed a pilocytic astrocytoma — the most common type of brain tumour in children.

Tia was taken to Queen’s Medical Centre in Nottingham, where she had a ten-hour operation to remove the tumour. “It was quite a horrendous day,” Darby said. “They managed to get 96 per cent of it out.”

Tia called the growth her “astronaut tumour”. Since the procedure, she gets very tired and can sometimes lose her balance. Her recovery will consist of an MRI scan every three months for the next five years, and she is having regular physiotherapy and meetings with neurologists.

She is keen to get back to her hobbies. Darby calls her “Dr Doolittle” due to her love for animals, and added that Tia is a keen reader and enjoys playing dodgeball.

Cameron Miller, director of external affairs and strategy at the Brain Tumour Charity, said “We wish Tia all the best with her continuing treatment and thank Imogen for sharing her story.

“Sadly, it’s one that we often hear. For many brain tumour patients, it simply takes too long to be diagnosed — and this is one of the reasons why we’re calling for a National Brain Tumour Strategy.”

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ac3may · 1 year

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“ the wag diaries ”

How You Met

~ Alessia Russo ~

~~~~~~~~~~

Alessia would never make any claim to know anything about ice hockey before she met you

but if interrogated she couldn't deny that Y/N L/N was a prominent face in her mind since she was a teen

most people had only recently began to recognise you with your increasing sponsorships

Alessia however had known of you from your college days

she had been dragged to a UNC friends hometown in Minnesota where she attended her first ever ice hockey game

it was an unfamiliar sport to the Brit, the violence definitely shocked her

she thought football was physical enough

number 23 immediately drew her attention though

the way she managed to dominate the rink while still gliding so gracefully was addicting

it wasn't until four years later when your face was plastered across all the sporting outlets that Alessia was reminded just how attractive she found the sport

or maybe it really was just you

the next time you crossed Alessia’s path you were a lot more physical, a lot more real, and a lot more directly in front of her

both being sponsored by Beats by Dre you had been invited to their rooftop event in LA, launching a new product

laying eyes on the blonde from across the dance floor you knew immediately you had to meet her

approaching her at the bar it was evident that she was shocked to see you

although that did nothing but spur your ego

the cocky glint appearing in your eye only attracted Alessia more

"hey, pretty lady. any chance I can interest you in drink? some company perhaps?”

"well I'm pretty sure it's an open bar, so drinks are free"

*eyes widen in rejection*

*she touches your arm*

she TOUCHES your arm!!

"but I could do with some company"

you then spend the following many drinks sat a little too close to be friendly

talking, giggling, and flirting around the fire pit

within an hour the pair of you had abandoned the groups you arrived with and tumbled into whoever's hotel room was closest

the following morning of room service in bed and further extra-circicular activities had Alessia thinking maybe something more would come

but after watching your broad shoulders walk away from her, freshly showered back buried in her duvet, there was no contact to follow

after several months of teasing from Ella about her new interest in hockey you appeared again

you had been visiting England to complete several press and media requirements, one of which being a photoshoot campaign with Beats

grumbling to your best friend and manager after a long train ride and cramped Uber to the studio in Manchester the last person you expected to be faced with was Alessia

not learning her lesson, again Alessia ended up in the same bed as you by the end of the night

as well as a supply closet, restaurant bathroom and hotel pool before that

this time though she was the one to walk away, and not without the promise of a regular arrangement

you were by no means in a relationship

but every time you were in the same country you sought each other out

neither of you had time for that anyway

a year later when Alessia joined her team in the Euros final you made the decision to fly out and surprise her in the stands

As soon as she made eye contact with you Alessia lost all interest in the impending afterparty

staying only as long as was polite before dragging you off to yet another hotel room

You were more than happy to accommodate her wishes though

the entire trip being made to celebrate her achievements in the first place

Alessia is demanding in physically wrapping your arms around her naked body when you try to stand and leave

on the high of the win she is extra confident

and the exhaustion catching up to her reigns her filterless

"why do you always leave me, am I just a warm body to you?"

*you gape, too stunned to speak*

*her pout is dramatically adorable*

"Alessia you are SO much more than a warm body to me! how could you even think that?!"

holding her tighter in your arms you listen as she explains her insecurity

all the while she played with your tangled fingers, resting on her stomach

hearing her out you admitted your intimidation of her being too good for you

the simple solution, that pleased both of you, came when she finally asked you to be her girlfriend

of course you agreed immediately

sealing it with a kiss

~~~~~~~~~~

Okay, question for anyone enjoying/invested in the wag diaries. Does anyone have suggestions for different nicknames we could maybe call the “characters”? I feel like mixing all the Y/N’s is already getting pretty confusing….

#ace writes stuff #wag diaries #alessia russo #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo blurb #arsenal women #lionesses #woso blurb #woso x reader

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qettleqorn · 23 days

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*Slams fists on table* THESE HEIRS for the wip ask game pls 😤

These Heirs | Multi-Ships | JJK | Consort AU

So, as you and the whole of the Anxiety Anonymous crew know, we have a charming little AU for the JJK verse. Which, I have shared this a little on the Group Discord but I'll reshare it again.

Specifically, it was about how Sukuna as we know it does want to be considered the Prince Consort, more so the Emperor, even though that title does go to Shiu-Kong by technicality as he did father the first heir. (Yi Jeong, the firstborn child and son) But it starts off basically with Sukuna outright demanding he too should be able to have an heir with the empress. Pushing her up against a brick wall to show that he is very willing to provide his services still despite her not having visited him in some time other than to talk.

Which she quickly replies with a-

"You wish to be emperor, my prince consort, not out of love or loyalty, but out of desire to be seen as the all-powerful."

Because at this point as we all know the two know one another more than just between the sheets. By this point, he has been by her side for the better part of a decade. Izumi has already had their baby boy Yuuji approximately ten years ago as well. (How he hasn't managed to get an heir, well, Kin is just a very busy woman and is still trying to train him well enough for her cousin.) But the empire still only has one true ruler and every day she's getting pressured to pick, and every day it's looking less and less like it will be him.

Which of course, annoys the ever-loving crap out of him especially when he believes they both know he'd be the better option since they can even one another out. They have a good balance of level-headedness between them.

But she doesn't view it as such, it also doesn't help that she favors Shiu Kong and then also Nanami- a man who is not her consort.

Again, this annoys and pisses him off because- what is he doing wrong to not make her see he is good for the empire. As he is not just a brilliant mastermind of tactics, he's a man of the arts, he's driven with passion! Sure he can be brutish, but that's where she would come in!

Well, some time passes and he's lounging in the bath as Uraume scrubs him down. When they ask him a question,

"May I ask a question Lord Sukuna?" Digging their nails into the cloth as it scrubbed into Sukuna's tan skin. It was a thought that had only recently plagued them, but one they thought would not bother their lord. Shifting up as the still warm water drained from off his abdomen, dripping down his biceps and back. A crack in his neck as he stretched out the muscles. Sukuna gave an agreeable hum knowing it was not often Uraume asked much of him. Something he liked from the dual-hair-toned monk. Not holding back or stopping their efforts to clean the highly sought-after consort. Uraume was inwardly delighted to get permission to speak somewhat freely. "We have all heard how Lord Shiu Kong was brought on, Lady Manami, & Lady Yuki as well." Putting their weight into their scrubbing as they got to his shoulder blades, Uraume made a small hmph as they caught their breath. "Well, it left us curious of you. Not even the empress speaks on it."

It would lead to Sukuna dismissing them so he could finish his bath alone. Not answering their question outright, but just saying that he was the most expensive and skilled just as he still is. Which left him to think about how they really met the first time.

"As you know you may not disclose that the royal highness is here nor what it is that goes on between you both." The lanky old woman who presented herself as Mae-Hui's aid. "Yeah, yeah." With his client not yet before him, the pink-haired youth dismissed the old woman with a wave.

He thinks it's just another job, he'll pop her cherry, and then- boom. Another satisfied customer.

The reason why she was here was not for the sins of the flesh. Not as if it truly mattered what she was here for, she was paying for his time as it was. So what did it matter if she chose to just talk?

Except, she isn't, Mae-Hui Kim is the first client to actually try and talk with him. To get to know him and doesn't even sleep with him that night.

"Where are you from?" "A place far from here, it does not matter my lady." "But it does matter." Her fingers brushed over his knuckles, wrapping them around the tattoo markings on his wrists. "I wish to know of it so it does matter." The word pressed into his palm like a secret he desperately wanted to keep. But the alcohol he had spilt between his lips made it drip like a faucet during the winter months. "Megijima." Its name alone flooded his mind with memories. Pulling his wrists from her grasp, he wrung them around her own hands, thick and pristine fingers keeping them in a tight hold and pushing them back to her chest. The look of a dull moment written on his face. "Megijima?" "It's the island where I was born." "I've heard stories about-." "Peaches and ogres I'm sure, the peaches are delicious but there are no ogres beyond what you see before you." Shaking her head as she shut her eyes as if saying that he was wrong about the assumption he made- which he was. "The most famous poets get their best works from resting there." Despite the rather flat-face reaction, he was giving her. Sukuna was surprised she mentioned that. Before he had been sold off he could recall the poems the madam of the brothel had read to him and the other unfortunate children born of the dissolute harlots of her halls. The wench was brash, crude, and all around he knew she'd be in hell waiting for him with all the other sinners he had cursed. "I heard a retired general once visited and had come back with an abundance of treasure." Her lips curled as she lay there. She was actually enjoying this and he could not believe it. "About forty or so years ago from what I recall is when it took place, my father use to read me his writings. A rare chance encounter I know." He knew exactly who she was talking about. That man was the reason why he was here now.

So, when she denies him the opportunity to aid her, it hurts oddly enough.

Sukuna may not love her, but he respects her and he wants to make the empire an even stronger place. Wants to elevate its status on a worldwide spread just as she has with him to some degree.

She of course would then introduce him to her cousin. Who is absolutely enamored by him. They would have Yuuji but she'd have to give it away. Due to societal views.

This is then where Kin of course buys Sukuna's contract and begins to try and tame his feral ways so Izumi can have the man. This is where Sukuna would begin falling in love with Izumi from the constant predicaments Kin manages to put them into.

He likes her rabbit-like qualities, not just for a breeding kink joke, but the way she gets flustered. How she gives him something to make her work on and tease. She's a cute little thing that has enchanted him.

But sometimes loyalty and love can not mix. Sukuna feels a great loyalty to Kin and wishes to prove that he can be what they all "need". As I had stated before. BUT, but, this would later bring us to The Bug Hunt chapter. In which afterwards. Kin makes the ultimate decision to release Sukuna from her care and into Izumi's against his desires. Practically naming Shiu Kong as her Prince Consort in the process because Sukuna nearly gets Yi Jeong killed. Even though it was an unintentional accident that led the young prince to fall down a cliff.

This is of course when Sukuna and Izumi would get to grow closer and they'd actually get to properly know one another. He'd still be sour regardless of course, but somewhere along the line, she'd tell him about how she wishes she- well they, could meet their child.

He knows Yuuji is alive, they both do, especially after the winter party event. What she didn't know (and this is where I adlib a little because I'm not sure if it'll be group-approved) is that Yaga had messaged him about Yuuji sometime ago after Sayuri found the boy. After all Sukuna and Yuuji are practically the spitting image of one another.

MEANING!

Izumi and Sukuna might have a chance to meet their son.

It was one of those secrets that Mae-Hui didn't know about because he didn't want her to. Since he figured it would make him lose his chance even more. Just to later find out she knew Yuuji was alive because she had gone back to his old employer to hook up with some other consort.

Mae-Hui in this time though has also unintentionally pushed aside her favored cousin since giving Sukuna to her. Because now she is worried about her eldest child and less about her outer family.

This is where we get into Yuuta's portion of the story!

AND AND AND! DSFSDG- anyways, it's basically just about the drama of the royal family. How Sukuna gets kicked out of the palace, Yuuta and Yi Jeong are almost killed, Izumi and Kin get a little rift in their friendship, and just DRAMA!

#JJK | Consort AU #Anxiety Anonymous #I bet you weren't prepared for this ramble #Thank you Al! sdfsfs

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maaarshieee · 2 years

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₊˚✧꒰"INTO THE SCRIBE'S MIND"꒱₊˚✧

⎯⎯ ୨ Chapter 1: Unspoken Truths ୧ ⎯⎯

ੈ📜˳ Alhaitham x Gn!Reader *ೃ༄

ੈ📜˳ 4.0k words ┊ Fluff *ೃ༄

ੈ📜˳ Masterlist | ITSM Masterlist *ೃ༄

bulletin board: from the author ˚ ༘🔖 ⋆｡˚

I love cherry magic! so much HDJSAD,, it has such a good plot imo,, so why not give the reader who has a hard time reading alhaitham to be able to read minds! the goddess of love saw their intense tension and alhaitham's crush and she decided to give them a push 😭😭 anyways i hope you like this series! i think im very fond of the idea,, have a great day/night!! also i hope you like the reader's personality... ty @baeshijima for the motivation, inspo and alhaitham brainrot.. oh yeah reader rlly hates alhaitham so uh, but dw relationship gets better in the few few chapters,, SORRY IF ITS BAD BUT I PROMISE THE NEXT CHAPTERS ARE BETTER,, I STRUGGLED WITH THE INTRO CHAP SO BAD, CHAP 2-5 HAS BETTER STRUCTURE

Out of all the people, it just had to be you.

You, who was just a mere matra servicing the people of Sumeru, a student who fairly did well in your first year at the Akademiya, only for your grades to plummet and barely, barely, passing enough to graduate, known for your sarcastic personality and your tendency to have abrupt outbursts, caught the attention of the Grand Scribe. Yes, you heard it right. Alhaitham likes you. Loves you.

Pause. How would you know? Let's run it back.

It was just another day doing your job, roaming around Sumeru City and keeping track of shady researchers here and there, then doing the occasional paperwork back at your office. Truthfully, it was boring. But since you graduated on unpleasant terms, with grades holding onto a thin thread, the Matra was the only work you could only apply to. If it wasn't the Matra, then you could've been working as a simple server at a restaurant or something. You've devoted your life to the path of knowledge and research, not ringing up orders in a café.

The sun was setting by the time you reached the House of Daena, the last stop for your daily patrols. There were only a few stragglers left in the spacious library, the lights dim, but bright enough to let people see and read. Only your footsteps can be heard through the massive shelves, doing the library a favor by rearranging the books and returning them to their proper shelves by category. The library has always been one of your favorite places throughout the entirety of Sumeru. It holds ancient information from all across Teyvat, despite books being the least sought resource these days.

But if there was one thing you hate about the House of Daena, it would be a certain someone who frequents the library and spends hours just roaming around, hiding behind shelves and reading in the most secluded spots. He just ruins the beautiful visage of the library with his unwanted presence and infuriating face.

People who know of the Grand Scribe, Alhaitham, would often complain about how he's so hard to find. That they'd have to ask around, only to be hit with dead ends since not a lot of people knew he exists. Well, you think they're just not looking hard enough. You see him everywhere! And you knew how much he disliked being outside and how he favored being inside isolated places, but somehow, you'd spot him here and there wherever you went. From the Grand Bazaar, where he's buying groceries, to Puspa Café, where he's eating lunch with his roommate, Kaveh (who would suspiciously spare you many glances while you take your order)— seriously, it's eerie to see him so much.

Or perhaps your deep hatred for him was so engraved in your brain that it made it easy for you to discern him in the midst of a crowd. But you refuse that fact and chose to believe that it was the gods punishing you for whatever you've done with his mere existence.

Only a select few have heard about him, and they would only give comments about his displeasing bluntness, but then praise him for his academic prowess. And unfortunately, you were one of them, graduating in the same batch as Alhaitham's and sharing most of your classes, though only seeing him briefly since he preferred to 'self-study'. So a lot of students who wanted to squeeze a few words from Alhaitham would come to you, asking for the scribe's location. You would roll your eyes, and shake your head but comply without any complaints, for it is your job to service the citizens of Sumeru, including the growing minds of the Akademiya.

And you absolutely abhor the fact that you'd always be right where he would be at every time of the day, as well as correctly assuming what he'd be doing at that place at that time. Reading, eating, doing paperwork— what the hell were you!? You're not his significant other, how the fuck do you know these things!? It's useful sometimes, yes, there are times when your boss would require your assistance in finding him for whatever he needed with the scribe, or you wanting to avoid him at all costs so you'd keep a mental note to not even step foot near where he'd be located at, you swear you could hear students whispering behind your back about a 'secret relationship' with him.

Absolutely not! Anyone who gets caught by your wrathful watch, spreading baseless rumors would get the scolding of their lives. Unfortunately, you can't arrest people with just rumors. That's just not a big offense.

Oh how much you loathed him, your jaw tensing immediately and your brows furrowed as soon as you saw him, sitting at his usual spot, piles of books on the table. Hearing your slow approach, eyeing the multitude of books on his table, he let you take what you could into your arms and begin your trek on returning them to their respective shelves. It was routine at this point. Alhaitham knew you dislike big piles of messes in places where messes shouldn't exist, and yet here he is, carelessly placing books wherever he could. So he made a habit of separating books he's finished reading, and books he's yet to read, so you could start putting them back right before you've made your way to the House of Daena, the last stop of your patrols.

Not a single word was exchanged between you, only a few glances at one another. At times like these, you wished you knew what was going through his head. Was he making fun of you inside his mind? Thinking of your past failures? Scheming something to simply ruin your day? The possibilities were incredibly endless, and it honestly gets under your skin how he could maintain such a neutral face when he could have the worst possible thoughts ever.

That night, you made an unconscious wish to the stars above; I wish I could read minds. You thought exasperatedly, observing Alhaitham in your peripheral vision, shuddering a little when you spot a small smile on his lips when he glances at you once more. Just so I could know if he's up to no good.

The next day, you awoke with a killer headache. It was so painful that you doubled over and fell off the comfort of your bed, groaning at the aching pains whilst you tried to blink away the sleepiness that clung to your eyes. Pressing on and getting on with your morning routine, putting on your uniform, and walking outside of your house, only to be fully awoken by a myriad of voices suddenly surging into your mind, shrieking and falling to your knees at the intense volumes, catching the attention of the people passing by your home.

Well, it just so happened that you acquired a rather special (not) ability from the gods! The power of telepathy! You'd think that having telepathy can increase your capabilities to be able to arrest more criminals since now you've got the capacity to read minds. While that is true, you've suspiciously become a much better detective for the past few days and it even caught the attention of General Mahatamra, who commended you for your exemplary performance, the cons of having telepathy completely overshadowed the pros. Going outside of your own home gives you endless headaches, hearing so many voices speaking over one another inside your head; louder and louder! It's so damn painful that you just want to squeeze your eyes shut, but you couldn't really do that since being a Matra literally requires you to be alert at all times.

Though the voices were merely hushed whispers of thoughts that were supposed to be unheard by everyone, secrets kept to themselves, whenever your eyes stare into a person's face for even a mere second, you would immediately intrude into one's thoughts and know every single thing they'd think in that moment, as well as past thoughts and memories if ever the person thought about it while you were peeking. So your 'exemplary performance' quickly dropped as the days went by, trying (and failing) to adapt to your newly attained power. It was hard to do your job while hearing so many voices while you did your patrols. You even started bringing a blindfold to help soothe your headache and gain a short moment of silence.

This brings us to your sudden revelations of Alhaitham ever since you've gained telepathy.

Heaving a heavy sigh, you held a stack of books in your arms, struggling a little due to its weight. You were to return the books to the House of Daena, seeing them being left in random places around the Akademiya, and the dates on the return cards were way overdue. Seriously, whoever left these out in the open, without care nor consideration to the library they borrowed them from will never hear the end of you once you get your hands on them. Just because hardback books were now considered not much of use now due to the Akasha System, it's still filled with valuable knowledge and information; a vast sea of resources that can be used for research! Relying on such a convenient device too much would just lose the integrity of pursuing wisdom! Sadly, not a lot share your views, nor even want to respect your opinion, so they would shun you for even mentioning it.

A small groan slipped from your lips as your arms and lower back began to ache, slightly wobbling your way to the House of Daena. The headache that refused to give you any relief never left you, only dissipating for brief moments before returning once you've stepped into an area where there was a person in your sight. Yeah, you were not fond of your telepathy. For some reason, the library was bustling with students tonight, even when the sun was beginning to set. Was it exam week already? Archons, your skull was practically rattling at the hundreds of whispers as you picked up your pace, attempting to avoid the many faces ahead of you. And as if your day couldn't get any worse, you bumped into him.

"You shouldn't be carrying all those by yourself."

As soon as his voice reached your ears, your eye twitched, refusing to even spare him a glimpse, and walked right past him, hoping that he'd just leave you alone for today. Of course, you'd happen to cross paths with the scribe, after all, he spends an awful lot of his time in the library, reading away. Honestly, the most you see of him is during his free time. Is he always that free? How come it seemed like he absolutely does nothing? It just makes your blood boil even further. But you could hear his footsteps trailing behind you, following you on your way to the House of Daena. Irritated, you huffed through your nose. "Leave me alone."

"You look like you could use some help," Alhaitham commented, eyeing the tall stack of thick books in your arms, a slight frown that you didn't notice tugging at his lips. You missed the way he put away the book he was reading back into his belt pouch and instead went closer to you, oblivious to the concern written all over his face. "You look like you're about to topple over."

A scoff was all you could muster as you scowled at his words, stopping in your tracks and turning to shoot him a glare, the grip on the books in your arms tightening so hard that your hands began to tremble, becoming further difficult for you to hold. Him, offering help? As if! If you didn't know better, he must've been thinking of some scheme inside his head, in the guise of trying to simply lend you a hand. You aren't weak. Not at all. Sure, the headache was unbearable, but you aren't completely helpless to it. Without further hesitation, your eyes bore into him, invading his most private thoughts.

"They look awfully tired. More than usual."

That caught you off guard so bad that shock overtook your features, and the anger that was always so prominent on your face vanished so fast that even Alhaitham was startled, only to blink and see your ever-so-furious expression back. Seeing him shake his head, he glanced back at the books, and back to your face, an unreadable look in his eyes. You... expected something else, honestly. The tone of his voice was gentle, laced with... worry? Wait, was that genuine?

"But they still look nice." A pause and you held your breath. "I guess I've grown fond of it ever since those bags under their eyes became more apparent during our days at the Akademiya. It completes their look." Then you noticed it. The subtle shift of his eyes, holding a sense of affection as he stares back at your glare, with hints of slight amusement at your temperament.

You almost dropped the stack of books you held in your arms, but Alhaitham caught them just in time, taking half of the stack with ease. Glancing at you for your reaction, you could tell that he was expecting you to shout at him, for getting mad at pitying you but you stayed quiet, weirdly staring at his face. Deep inside, you indeed did want to scream at him, growing envious at how he was carrying those heavy books like it was nothing, while you struggled to make your way to the House of Daena holding all of them. But you bit back your tongue, only giving him a curt nod of acknowledgement before turning your back on him once again, and rushing to the damn library. You realized he never had bad intentions in the first place, only approaching you due to honest consideration towards you.

Truly, you can't blame him for actually getting worried. You looked absolutely horrible, and your headaches were making it difficult to sleep through the pain. No matter how much pain reliever you take, it doesn't work. Staying at home for long periods of time would probably help, but you were not going to ask your boss for a leave without a proper reason.

Instead of insulting you, just as you suspected, he was complimenting you, reminiscing how you looked when you were both younger. Flashes of images of yourself halfway through your years studying at the Akademiya filled your head when you peered into the deep crevices of his mind, you and your silly student beret, growing bags under your eyes and messy hair.

That image left a bitter taste in your mouth as it has undesirable memories attached to it, though you were more curious as to why Alhaitham could vividly remember how you looked back then. The image even projected you holding a book you usually had with you, a book that you still had on your own shelves of books at your home.

Finally, you've found a better use for your telepathy: Figuring out Alhaitham.

For the next few days, you've been with Alhaitham a lot more than usual. At first, the thought of being with him and conversing with him made you shudder, but you convinced yourself it would be worth it if it meant finding out what really goes through the arrogant scribe's head, and using it against him to get back at him after all those miserable years.

You wore different clothing, and accessories, cut your hair, and many more, and he would notice right away. "It looks nice on them and matches their eyes.", "It fits well with their physique.", "Oh, they look stunning.", "They got their nails painted. It's their favorite color." "That necklace... I think I can buy matching earrings...", or anything along those lines. It was truly startling to hear all of those coming from his mind whilst he had a blank face, but now that you could hear his thoughts, you're suddenly hyperaware of everything he does. From his closeness, the lingering gazes, and the rather fondness of his smile when his lips curve up, watching you scold a student breaking the rules in the middle of your walk towards the House of Daena.

Alhaitham was also very confused at your sudden increase in interactions for the past few days, but he was visibly pleased with it.

His thoughts were nothing but pure. Nothing dirty, nor any stains of malice. It was either him pondering what he'd do after he's finished with his responsibilities as the scribe, admiring you, or nothing at all. He was that simple. His mind was like a minimalistic room, bare and plain, but organized. A total reflection of who Alhaitham really was. Sure, he'd have speculations in his mind here and there, his thoughts churning and ticking like gears that were all connected and functioning flawlessly whenever he's approached with a problem, but everything else was very clean.

In other words; you were completely wrong about him. Whenever he speaks to a person, and would bluntly say something about them, it was just that. The honest truth, his general views, and beliefs. Cutting to the chase because he thinks that adding unnecessary words would hinder true progress, so he speaks his truth, and his truth only.

This completely shattered your view of him. Not once he had thought anything bad about you, just undoubtedly in love with you. Of course, it was such a difficult thing for you to process. You've hated Alhaitham for as long as you could remember, after what happened that day, he was the leading cause of your downfall. Can you really let it slide now you know one of his biggest weaknesses?

Mind in shambles (and still aching with grievous pain), you had to consult with one of your closest friends.

"So, let me summarize. You wished to have the ability to read minds for the sole reason to figure out what's going through Alhaitham's head, only for it to be granted the next day, which is why you look like you haven't slept in centuries. And now you found out that Alhaitham is just some guy who acts mysterious so people would leave him alone and that he's in love with you?"

Taking a sip from your tea, you nodded. "Yup," You saw Tighnari's ears twitch at your nonchalant response, brows furrowing with concern as he leaned towards you from across the table, pressing the back of his ungloved hand on your forehead. "Are you feeling okay? You know, not enough sleep would cause you to hallucinate—" Tighnari says, and you almost choke on your tea as he continues to speak, "Did you eat any suspicious-looking mushrooms on your way here?"

The faint smell of various flora wafted into your nose, your tense shoulders relaxing. It was very comfortable inside Tighnari's office. Homey and littered with organized messes all across the room. A basket filled with flora and mushrooms was on the table, an open book of records where Tighnari was recently writing, only to be left forgotten by your absurd words.

"Tighnari," Your stern tone made the fox pause, his eyes now focused on you as you pinch the bridge of his nose, a sigh leaving your lips. "I'm telling the truth. I can read minds just by looking at people." Tighnari's skepticism was reasonable, it's not every day you hear that one of your friends suddenly gained the ability to read minds due to their deep hatred of someone, so you'll just have to prove it to him. Disregarding the incredulous look on his face, you crossed your arms with a smug smirk on your lips.

A faint ringing noise crosses your mind as you read Tighnari's thoughts. "You were going to ask me to buy you some ingredients because you wanted to cook Cyno's favorite dish for tonight's dinner but you're missing some—"

Tighanri's ears flattened as his face was quick to flush, glaring at you as he swatted at your smug expression, soliciting a chuckle from you. "Okay, okay! You can read minds!" He huffed, shaking his head and hiding his reddening cheeks from you, glancing at the small list he had already pre-written and was about to give to you before you left. "How in Celestia did you manage to get that kind of power?" He frowned, grabbing his cup of tea and taking a long lip with a contemplative look on his face. You merely shrugged your chin on your palm.

"I'm stumped, I've been reading tirelessly about mind reading, even looking into the Akasha System for any clues, but I've got nothing to explain such a bizarre phenomenon." You grunted, obviously displeased at the results of your research, but gladly accepting the cookie Tighnari has offered to you.

"It's not as good as people make it in novels," A groan left you, rubbing your forehead to ease the pain. The tea Tighnari had prepared you helped a little bit, and being in his office, you were experiencing a rare moment of serenity. "At least I know what Alhaitham's thinking now. Makes it easier to get along with him, but doesn't make him less annoying though."

But Tighnari felt that something didn't feel right about you today. There was a mischievous glint in your eyes whenever you were lost in thought, a smirk on your lips that would instantly disappear once you remember you were not alone. Tighnari trusted his instincts and his instincts told him that you were up to no good.

With a soft tone of his voice, he called out your name, snapping you out of your thoughts. "Whatever you're planning, don't try." He warns, putting up a face you're rather familiar with. A face he always has whenever he's about to scold a reckless adventurer who ended up eating a poisonous mushroom in the forest. "You'll just end up hurting yourself even more in the end."

In the depths of your heart, you knew that Tighnari was correct. After all, as one of your friends, he only wants the best for you. And after discovering that Alhaitham wasn't some prick who thrives at other's struggles, it really made you hesitate on what you were planning to do. But at the back of your head, something dark festered throughout your mind, the anger you held slowly engulfing your thoughts completely. Your hatred towards Alhaitham was truly greater than anything you've felt.

Not taking his warning seriously, you rolled your eyes. "To be fair, he ruined my life." You defended yourself, narrowing your eyes at Tighnari, who could only frown at your statement. It was a grudge you could never let go of, a sore spot that you desperately wanted gone by getting back at Alhaitham in any way possible. And now you've been given an opportunity, surely, you'll never let it go, right? "Besides, if I did end up hurting Alhaitham, it wouldn't be that bad. He can find another love after he moved on from me, he's good-looking enough to get anyone he could ever want."

Your plans were simple enough. Play with his feelings, break his heart and finally gain the satisfaction you've been starved of for years. While it was truly malicious, you couldn't care less. You wanted to rid of that stone-cold visage of his and be replaced with something else. Would he even feel heartbroken once you reveal that you truly didn't love him back? Or would he just walk it off? Nevertheless, you just wanted to have a bit of entertainment for a little while. What's the harm in that?

Tighnari, who was very troubled by your decision, couldn't help but feel like something horribly bad was bound to unfold in the near future. He knew he should've tried harder to discourage your intentions towards Alhaitham, but there was no changing your mind at that point.

He just hopes it won't crash and burn in flames.

If you want to be tagged in this series, please fill out this form! Remember that usernames are only lowercase and have no spaces!

Taglist: @hhaithamos, @blackblossomquren, @nqctre, @hakunonn, @salvationprodigy, @gvnnhildrs, @unknown-izumi, @venuslovep, @baelloraa, @tanspostsblog, @hh0pe, @artemfication, @simpcreator, @prefesro, @radicallrileyyy, @edagawasatoru, @vvyeislazzy, @chopid, @thesmolestsage

- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛❛ If you like this a lot, consider reblogging! I’ll appreciate it very very much! Don’t repost and/or translate my work anywhere. ❜❜ ┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌

#yaepublishinghouse #alhaitham x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #:;marshie.writes #:;oneshots #:;alhaitham #:;marshie's.series:mindreading #HELP I THINK THIS SUCKS SO BAD #this series really focuses on alhatham's and reader's strained friendshipand #i think not a lot of people would like it #SOBS #WHATEVER ILL JUST FINISH THIS FUCKING SERIES

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alaynasansa · 1 year

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‘ She is beginning to at least try to understand how she can play the Game of Thrones and be not a piece but a player. With her own goals, and moving other pieces around ’

George R. R. Martin

“Father asked if there were any knights in the hall who would do honor to their houses by taking the black, but no one came forward, so he gave this Yoren his pick of the king's dungeons and sent him on his way. And later these two brothers came before him, freeriders from the Dornish Marches, and pledged their swords to the service of the king. Father accepted their oaths...”

Ser Loras is a Tyrell, Sansa reminded herself. That other knight was only a Toyne. His brothers had no armies, no way to avenge him but with swords. Yet the more she thought about it all, the more she wondered. Joff might restrain himself for a few turns, perhaps as long as a year, but soon or late he will show his claws, and when he does... The realm might have a second Kingslayer, and there would be war inside the city, as the men of the lion and the men of the rose made the gutters run red

He saved Alayne, his daughter, a voice within her whispered. But she was Sansa too... and sometimes it seemed to her that the Lord Protector was two people as well. He was Petyr, her protector, warm and funny and gentle... but he was also Littlefinger, the lord she'd known at King's Landing, smiling slyly and stroking his beard as he whispered in Queen Cersei's ear. And Littlefinger was no friend of hers. When Joff had her beaten, the Imp defended her, not Littlefinger. When the mob sought to rape her, the Hound carried her to safety, not Littlefinger. When the Lannisters wed her to Tyrion against her will, Ser Garlan the Gallant gave her comfort, not Littlefinger. Littlefinger never lifted so much as his little finger for her.

Except to get me out. He did that for me. I thought it was Ser Dontos, my poor old drunken Florian, but it was Petyr all the while. Littlefinger was only a mask he had to wear. Only sometimes Sansa found it hard to tell where the man ended and the mask began. Littlefinger and Lord Petyr looked so very much alike. She would have fled them both, perhaps, but there was nowhere for her to go

Though his hair was grey and his face lined, Lord Yohn still looked as though he could break most younger men like twigs in those huge gnarled hands. His seamed and solemn face brought back all of Sansa's memories of his time at Winterfell. She remembered him at table, speaking quietly with her mother. She heard his voice booming off the walls when he rode back from a hunt with a buck behind his saddle. She could see him in the yard, a practice sword in hand, hammering her father to the ground and turning to defeat Ser Rodrik as well. He will know me. How could he not ? She considered throwing herself at his feet to beg for his protection. He never fought for Robb, why should he fight for me ? The war is finished and Winterfell is fallen. “Lord Royce,” she asked timidly, “will you have a cup of wine, to take the chill off ?”

Bronze Yohn had slate-grey eyes, half-hidden beneath the bushiest eyebrows she had ever seen. They crinkled when he looked down at her. “Do I know you, girl ?”

Sansa Month 2023 : day sixteen - politics

#sansa stark #alayne stone #bronze yohn royce #source: a game of thrones #source: a storm of swords #source: a feast for crows #source: game of thrones #asoiaf edits #made by me #sansamonth2023 #sansastarkappreciationfest2023

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slusheeduck · 5 months

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Champion

No one ever told you what happened to daedric champions after their task.

With good reason, of course, because for the most part, they just didn’t survive it. The forces of good would often triumph, typically with aedric glory. But, more often, it was because the average daedric champion was an idiot. They get one taste, one tiny taste, of power gifted by their patron, and suddenly they’re beset with visions of godhood and total dominion over all, including the powers of Oblivion. And then, on top of that, they have the audacity to be shocked when their Prince throws them out like the bad apple they are.

Taranil, however, had not been an idiot. He had not been stupid enough to believe that he was better than she who literally toyed with the strings of fate. And, while he’d thrown out a lot of his noble upbringing to survive the most hellish year of his life, he’d held on to the fact that gratitude was a must–especially when dealing with someone more powerful than you. It wasn’t lip service, of course; he was genuinely devoted, obsessively devoted to her. After all, she was the reason he was alive at all.

“You silly boy, you didn’t even ask for a boon! You did all this yourself. Color me impressed.”

“I didn’t need one. You’ve already given me what I asked for, and I offered my service in return.”

The temple, squirreled away underground where it couldn’t be found by those who didn’t know of it, lay in ruins as he picked his way back to a familiar grotto. Abandoned for years now, the altars remained–subjects waiting for new fools to come up to them and bargain their way into Oblivion. He knelt in front of the one he sought, still humble, still obedient. Invisible hands roamed over him–grazing his scarred cheek, down his back, over his thighs, and one wrapping a strand of bright silver hair around a clawed finger.

“Still. You could have asked for something if you wanted it. Unmatched power…”

“I’ve never been good with magic.”

“Unparalleled influence…”

“I won that myself.”

“Not even an artifact!”

“It would have ruined the plot. It would have given me away before it was time.”

“Oh, Taranil. You are such a funny thing. I suppose that’s why I like you enough to name you my Champion. Well, then I suppose the best boon I can give you now is your freedom.”

“What? But…but you must have more need of me. You must have more tasks that need doing. Please, I offered my service.”

“And I may have need of it in the future. But for now? You wanted your freedom and your fortune. You can have it now. Go, live. Enjoy what you did actually ask for.”

“No! No, I…” But the hands were gone, and so was she.

There really isn’t a rush that matches being named Champion, especially when it’s given by someone like her. Before his bargain, before the bite, before Vvardenfell, Taranil had always seen himself as a stupid, pretty thing, because that’s all anyone had ever seen him as.

But not her.

She called him clever. She called him beautiful. She made him stronger, made him ruthless, made sense of all the threads he’d seen–connections, betrayals, love and hate and convenience–and taught him how to weave them together and snap them in half. What boon had he ever needed? She’d unlocked his potential, and that was more than a gift than any title or estate could be.

And what highs, what spectacular highs, came with a purpose like this. Carrying out the will of his Prince, using what she had taught him to bind and cut and weave the threads of this silly cult together to serve his purpose. How satisfying to see their priestess, so hubristic in her position, crumble as she realized what he was, what he’d done, and how powerless she was to stop the stitches being ripped out in front of her.

“How awful that this is how we meet again, Lor–Kinlord. My deepest condolences.”

“Very kind of you, cerum.”

“To be killed so viciously…and right before you came back from your wretched year abroad. You must be devastated.”

It had been so quick. The return home, and the immediate disowning. As if it had been his fault he’d been shipped away to Vvardenfell. One look at his parents had confirmed his worst fears: they had wished he was dead.

“Yes, well. You know as well as I that they never strayed from the path of Alaxon. I imagine in some ways, death must have been a relief. Imagine, getting to finally reach Aetherius. It’s the culmination of praxis, isn’t it?”

“Beautifully put, Kinlord.”

He’d gotten his mother first. There was a savage satisfaction as his teeth tore into her throat, finally silencing every sharp word, every disparaging hiss, every curse toward him and the gods that of all the children to be stuck with, she had him. As she fell back in her seat, blood seeped into the golden hair she’d been so proud of–he laughed, despite himself. After years of hating his red hair, she was stuck with it in her last moments.

His father had tried fighting back, but all it earned was sharp claws tearing into his chest. A black eye had been his parting gift to Taranil a year before; tradition said that the gift brought home should be twice as valuable, after all. And it certainly was–at least to him.

And just like that, the Caemorin family had a new Kinlord.

He’d expected to die. He’d wanted to die. How wonderful, how noble an end, to die in service to his beloved Prince. And, he was frightened, of course. He wasn’t immune to begging her to spare his life as his own thread came dangerously close to snapping. But he knew how these things always ended. Someone would strike down the Champion and save the day.

But no one did. He lived. And now, he had to endure the agony of it. He’d known Mephala was one of the crueler Princes, but this? This was more than any mortal–or a rough approximation of one, anyway–should be forced to bear.

Go, live, she had told him. It was nearly enough to make him hate her. Talking about treaties, going to soirees, managing books–this wasn’t living. Living was dancing along the razor’s edge. Living was frantically stitching a plot as dozens of hands tried to unravel it. Living was standing among the rubble of a powerful cult and knowing every toppled wall and mangled corpse had his hand to blame.

All the money, all the prestige, all the sex and skooma and drink and blood in the world couldn’t match that high, not even remotely.

“Kinlord?”

Taranil was brought out of his reverie by a knock on his office door. He turned to see his chatelaine, a serious-faced, grey-furred Khajiit, poke her face in.

“Yes, Zirithi?”

“This one would just like to remind you that Kinlady Avinisse will be here to discuss borders. Again.” She rolled her eyes. “Zirithi would typically suggest an escape plan, but…”

“But I’ve already delayed this three times,” Taranil said with a sigh. He waved his hand. “I’ll be ready. Just give me a bit of warning once she’s here.”

Zirithi nodded, slipping back out. Taranil gave a long sigh, then turned to look out the window again.

He thought he’d been clever, managing to survive Mephala’s task to get his reward. Now, he realized, he was her most foolish champion yet. No reward was worth an existence like this.

#tes #tes oc #oc fic #I'm introducing Taranil to a new enclosure and I figure I might as well drop some content on him here because I adore him #There's a lot of patricide in here #Just as a warning #Tearing rending etc #You know #Just girly things #Taranil Caemorin

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misfitwashere · 26 days

Text

Friends,

What might otherwise be considered a minor error of judgment can blow up into a big issue in a political campaign when the error evokes a candidate’s deeper flaws.

Yesterday, the U.S. Army issued a stern rebuke to the Trump campaign over his visit on Monday to the Arlington National Cemetery, where Trump sought to score political points by marking the third anniversary of a deadly attack on U.S. troops in Afghanistan as American forces withdrew from the country. Thirteen American service members were killed in the attack at Kabul airport’s Abbey Gate.

A video of the visit posted by the Trump campaign on TikTok shows Trump visiting grave sites, with audio of him blasting Biden’s “disaster” of the Afghanistan withdrawal.

The Army said in its statement that participants in the ceremony “were made aware of federal laws” which “clearly prohibit political activities on cemetery grounds.” The statement also noted that an Arlington National Cemetery official “who attempted to ensure adherence” to these rules “was abruptly pushed aside.”

Reportedly, when the cemetery official — a woman — tried to prevent Trump and his staff from entering the prohibited area, Trump’s staff verbally abused her and pushed her out of the way so Trump could enter.

The Army statement went on to say: “It is unfortunate that the ANC employee and her professionalism has been unfairly attacked. ANC is a national shrine to the honored dead of the Armed Forces, and its dedicated staff will continue to ensure public ceremonies are conducted with the dignity and respect the nation’s fallen deserve.”

The incident has blown up into a big issue, but not because the Trump campaign erroneously held a political event at the Arlington National Cemetery.

It’s blown up because it’s a microcosm of Donald Trump’s moral squalor.

Trump has repeatedly shown contempt for military heroism. He claimed that the late John McCain, who had been a prisoner of war, was “not a war hero. He was a war hero because he was captured. I like people who weren’t captured.”

When General Mark Milley invited a wounded, wheelchair-bound soldier to sing “God Bless America” at Milley’s welcoming ceremony as Trump’s chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Trump admonished him, “Why do you bring people like that here? No one wants to see that, the wounded.”

On a trip to France in 2018, Trump refused to visit the Aisne-Marne American Cemetery, where more than 2,200 U.S. service members are buried. “Why should I go to that cemetery?” he asked staff members. “It’s filled with losers.”

According to Trump’s then-chief of staff John Kelly, Trump called the Marines who died at Belleau Wood “suckers” for getting killed.

Trump recently said that the Congressional Medal of Freedom he’d awarded to Republican donor Miriam Adelson was “much better” than the Medal of Honor because Medal of Honor recipients are “either in very bad shape because they’ve been hit so many times by bullets or they are dead.”

It’s not only Trump’s disdain for military heroism that’s brought to mind by what happened at Arlington National Cemetery. It’s also Trump’s disdain for the law, suggesting other occasions when Trump and his henchmen have disregarded legal rules, including their attempt to reverse the outcome of the 2020 election.

Verbally abusing and pushing the cemetery employee who was trying to enforce the law, after she notified Trump and his staff that it was illegal to stage political events at the ceremony, recalls other instances when Trump and gang have pushed people aside, using violence to try to get their way. Think January 6, 2021.

That the employee in question is a woman brings to mind the multitude of ways Trump has employed violence against women, from grabbing their genitals to raping them to stirring up his followers to threaten them. She declined to press charges because, according to military officials, she feared retaliation by Trump supporters.

The entire incident is also a microcosm of Trump’s utter disdain for morality, honor, and patriotism — the public virtues, the common good. The cemetery is a sacred, hallowed ground. It is considered to be a national shrine. Trump sullied it to achieve his personal goal of the moment: to get a news clip in which he could bash Biden and, indirectly, Kamala Harris.

The incident rings the warning bells, rekindles the dark memories, revives the fears.

What happened at Arlington National Cemetery earlier this week was much more than an erroneous photo op. It was Trump on full display.

***********************************************************************

It was a crime.

#robert reich

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sanfangirl-cynicalromantic · 7 months

Text

Blue Oleander

It's the last day of @httydhiccstridweek, and it's been crazy, enjoyable ride. Thank you so much @sorushing for hosting it! I hope we can do it again next year!

Summary:

“You again,” Hiccup greeted her. “Still think we’re lying?” She stopped in front of the counter, eyes stony but the fear behind them wasn’t well concealed. She was clutching each of her elbows with the opposite hand. Her blonde hair was loose and a little wild, like she had run her fingers through it quite a few times since she had done it. “How - how long does it take?” she asked quietly. “To - how long do I have?” Hiccup pushed himself upright and ambled over to the shelves behind him. “Without this? Usually around a couple months. With this?” He shook the bottle gently. “Um. Longest the patient ever lasted was up to a year.” The blonde stared at the bottle in his hands bleakly. “A year at most?” she asked faintly. ~ Of course, the universe hated him, so the person he’d fall for s would be a girl who was already dying because she was in love with someone else.

Read on AO3

He was often surprised at the patients that came in, but none had surprised him as much as the stunning blonde fidgeting in front of him.

“Yes?” he asked as she stood staring at him. “Are you lost?”

“No,” she said, frowning. “This is Blue Oleander, right? The sign was a little . . . faded.” He quirked one side of his mouth into a grimace of apology. Their sign was faded and overgrown with plants, but the desperate people always found them anyway.

“That’s correct,” Hiccup replied. “At your service. What do you need?” He didn’t know why he asked. Blue Oleander sold a few concoctions, the gray blue walls covered in unfinished gray wooden shelves lined with bottles, boxes, and pills. They were also a certified pharmacy, with a little extra kick, not that the customers really cared. People only came here for one thing.

“My doctor told me to come here,” she shared. “She said you’re the best.” Hiccup nodded and checked his clipboard sitting on the cluttered desk.

“Come this way, Miss . . .?”

“Astrid Hofferson,” she answered promptly. Hiccup nodded and wrote the name down. He’d probably never see that name again. There was no way a girl like her had any cause to be here.

“Why’d your doctor send you?” he asked. “Can you tell me what kind of symptoms you’ve been having?”

“Nothing, really,” she said. “Mostly short breath, but that’s weird because I exercise, and I don’t smoke, I have a nutritious diet, and I’ve never had respiratory problems before.”

“Hmm,” he frowned. “You said you went to your doctor first?” People usually had glaringly obvious symptoms before they sought out help from them.

“Yeah,” she said. “I was just going for my checkup, and she asked me if I had been experiencing anything unusual, and I remembered, yeah, actually, I was having trouble breathing. It’s - I’m an athlete. I need to get enough oxygen when I compete.”

“Yeah,” he hummed non committedly. “But that doesn’t sound like the abnormal illnesses we usually deal with. Was there no physical evidence of any type of disease? You sure it couldn’t be a cold? What made her certain it was an abnormal malady?”

“She, um, she asked me if I had any . . . romantic feelings for anyone,” she admitted. Hiccup raised an eyebrow.

“Do you?” he asked.

“Is that really a necessary question?” she snapped, frowning.

“It is, actually,” he said, not missing a beat. She blinked, taken about. “Do you?” he prompted.

She hesitated, her face twisting ruefully. “Yes,” she hissed, annoyed by such a personal question and his clinical detachment.

“Okay,” he made another note. “I’m going to check your throat and put you through an X-ray even if it’s too early to see anything, and then the doctor can diagnose you.”

A while later she sat stonily on the cot as she processed Dr. Ingerman’s words.

“I have . . . what?” she asked faintly.

“Better known as Hanahaki,” Fishlegs clarified. “It’s a disease one develops in the lungs when they suffer from unrequited love, causing them to cough up flower petals that may or may not develop into full grown flowers until the love is requited, or until the afflicted dies.”

Astrid looked horrified. “It’s fatal?” she demanded.

“Yes,” Fishlegs admitted.

“Okay, but you can cure it, right?” she asked, laughing disbelievingly. “I mean, there’s no way I could actually die from this?”

“Not really,” Fishlegs sighed. “It’s something the patient kind of has to cure. There are cases where it can be removed at the expense of the feelings towards the object of their affections-”

“Perfect. When can I schedule one of those?” she interrupted briskly.

“- But they are very dangerous, have a long recovery period, extremely expensive, and um, we don’t offer them.”

“What!” she cried.

“We can’t afford to pay a surgeon-” Fishlegs tried to protest, his voice growing smaller as she wagged her finger angrily.

“Listen here,” she began dangerously, rising from the cot, paper rustling ominously. “Dr. Winger said you were the best, but -”

“Atali?” Hiccup interrupted from the corner of the room. He shook his head sadly. “She was lucky. We were able to hold off the Hanahaki for a while until she got the person to fall in love with her.” Astrid snapped her head towards him.

“You can hold it off?” she asked hopefully. “Why didn’t you say so? I -”

“It’s not permanent,” Hiccup said sternly. Fishlegs had retreated to the doorway nervously. Fishlegs may have been the authority in name, but it was Hiccup who dealt with the patients after the initial diagnosis. “It just puts off the inevitable, and it reacts to people differently. Sometimes it has horrendous side effects, and sometimes it speeds up the process of dying after being consumed. It was compatible enough with Atali that it bought her enough time to cure herself, but there is no guarantee, and the longer it takes the more you have to consume. It can only be cured by love, or you die.”

“No,” she said abruptly. “This is - this is ridiculous! Diseases like this don’t exist! You guys must be scammers and I’m - I’m out of here!”

“First stage, denial,” he commented flatly. She glared at him as he followed her out of the room back into the lobby.

“You’re wrong!” she insisted. “This is stupid. I - I - this isn’t real.”

“Come back when you cough up a bloody petal,” Hiccup suggested dryly. “That should be real enough.” She spun on her heel and marched out the door, slamming it behind her.

She was back in three days.

“How - how long does it take?” she asked quietly. “To - how long do I have?” Hiccup pushed himself upright and ambled over to the shelves behind him.

“Without this? Usually around a couple months. With this?” He shook the bottle gently. “Um. Longest the patient ever lasted was up to a year.” The blonde stared at the bottle in his hands bleakly.

“A year at most?” she asked faintly. She blinked a few times and gazed at the low ceiling.

“Yep,” he nodded as he grabbed a notepad and scribbled three pens on it before finding one that worked. “How many petals have you coughed up?” he checked.

“Two,” she replied. “One, um, one a few hours after I saw you guys the first time and the second one this morning.”

“Okay,” Hiccup said, calculating. “You don’t need much of this for now. I would say take a tablespoon - or five milliliters if you want to be exact - twice a week.”

“Only twice a week?” she repeated.

“We don’t know how you’re going to react to it,” he explained. “For some it speeds the process up while it negates the effects of, well, coughing until you either suffocate on petals or drown in your own blood.” She cringed.

“Um, okay. You aren’t pulling any punches here,” she commented.

“You seem like the type of person who likes everything up front,” he replied. “And I’m not going to sugarcoat it for you. It’s not pretty. The mortality rate is high, and from what I’ve witnessed over the years the coughing can be a pain.”

“I was just going to ask when I should come back?” Astrid asked.

“If it gets worse, or, if it doesn’t, in two weeks,” he told her. “Although ideally you wouldn’t come back if you got him to love you back.” She looked stricken at the reminder of how to cure herself.

“There really is no other way?” she pleaded. Hiccup frowned at her.

“Unless you can get the surgery, no,” he answered frankly. “Why are you so against that method, though? Don’t you want them to love you back? You’re a beautiful woman, it wouldn’t be that hard.” Her pretty blue eyes stared at the ground blankly.

“Because . . . because he’s my best friend’s boyfriend.”

Three weeks later found her standing at the counter again.

“I - couldn’t,” she confessed ashamedly as she signed her name on the obligatory forms. “I just - Eret’s my best friend’s boyfriend, I can't just steal him like that. I could never do that to her, she’s my best friend, like a sister.”

“This is your life we’re talking about,” Hiccup said sternly as he wrapped the bottles up. “Surely she’d rather lose her boyfriend than have her best friend die. Especially if you guys are like sisters. You need to get him to fall in love with you or you don’t have a chance.”

“But she loves him,” Astrid said helplessly, taking the parcel and digging through her purse for payment.

“It’s your choice,” Hiccup sighed. “I’m just telling you how I see it.”

“I don’t want to die,” she said resolutely. Hiccup found his mouth twisting unpleasantly. She seemed pretty against doing the one thing to survive.

“You won’t see me again,” she promised as she swiped her card. “Probably.”

“Next,” Hiccup said boredly before he looked up at the next customer. A semi familiar head of blonde hair over bashful big blue eyes met his on the other side of the counter. “Oh,” he raised a sardonic eyebrow at her.

“Hi,” she waved shyly.

“Look, I tried, okay?” she argued as Hiccup returned with her X-rays. She had been silent as he had let her to the back and scanned her, unable to meet his disapproving frown. “I tried for a little bit, but seducing him behind my friend’s back is sleazy, and I just couldn’t live with myself.”

“Well why do you have to do it behind her back?” Hiccup asked. “Wouldn’t it be better if you got her on board? Less hurt feelings and guilt, more support?”

“Oh yeah,” she scoffed. “I’ll just go up to her and say, ‘Hey, Heather! So I’m in love with your boyfriend and actually dying because of that, can you get your soulmate to fall in love with me instead? Thanks!’” Hiccup glanced at his clipboard tiredly.

“You say it’s settled further in your chest now instead of your throat?” he checked. Astrid nodded, biting her lip. He looked at her seriously. “You should up your dosage to every other day,” he instructed. “If that doesn’t keep it at bay, come back in and we can get you on the stronger stuff.”

“Thank you,” she said gratefully.

“You’re welcome,” he replied.

“It’s only getting worse,” he said tightly. “Do you need help raising money or something? I know people - we could help.” Astrid shook her head.

“That surgery isn’t a guaranteed result, and the recovery process - I’d lose all my grants,” she grimaced.

“You could lose your life if you don’t do anything now,” Hiccup pressed.

“I’ll find a way out of it,” she insisted. She cleared her throat and reached for the package, covering her mouth with her other hand. Hiccup watched as she left, worry creasing his brow. One of these days, he’d see her walk away for the last time.

The next time she came in she had an attack right at the counter.

“Astrid!” he cried concernedly as she burst into a fit of coughing in the middle of her sentence. He hurried around the counter and patted her back, rubbing soothing circles until a lone petal surrounded by spittle and fluid fell out of her mouth onto a (thankfully) clear part of the table. He frowned.

“Hmm,” he picked the slick pink petal to examine it. “There’s blood now. Is this new?”

“Yeah,” she rasped. “Since last week.”

It was a pink anemone flower. It had slightly different meanings in different cultures, but he remembered the Ancient Greeks believed it had sprung from the blood of a slain lover, and in Japan the flower was also used for funeral arrangements. How fitting, a flower that came from blood and represented death. The pink was pale verging on white, making the bright specks of blood stand out like fresh rubies on white sheets.

“Why didn’t you come in then?” he demanded. “We can’t treat you if we don’t know how the illness is progressing.”

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, wiping her mouth with a tissue. “I just - if you guys didn’t tell me it was worse it wasn’t true.” Hiccup felt a pang at the pain in her voice, and reached out unthinkingly for her hand. She squeezed it automatically.

“You shouldn’t be coughing that hard then,” Hiccup frowned. “I’ll see if we can treat the cough separately. Let’s get you X-rayed again,” he said as he led her to the back.

“I’m not even going to say it,” he shook his head as he entered the room. Her face drew together angrily. “But, you know, I was starting to be relieved you weren’t coming back. I thought maybe you’d cured yourself.”

“I don’t want to break them up,” she insisted. “They love each other; they don’t deserve this.”

“And you do?” Hiccup asked keenly. She looked away.

“This way it’s only hurting one person,” she whispered. Hiccup felt panic bob in his throat painfully. How dare she feel this way? Could she not see there were people who cared for her and would feel her loss acutely. And he wasn’t talking about himself, no. He just could tell every time she came in and he got to know her better that she was special, and the world would be so much worse in her absence. His heart clenched at the thought. No, he wanted to say. It’ll hurt more than just you.

“Have you thought about getting it removed?” he asked desperately.

“From the research I’ve done, the surgery is very taxing on the person - I mean, they have to cut you open and try to scrape the disease out of your lungs - and once it reaches the heart you’re done for. I would never be able to breathe without help and could no longer overexert myself, and the surgery might take away all of my memories about Eret, sure, but so many of them are good - I was friends with him first, you know? And he and Heather are always together. I’m afraid that, I don’t know, but I don’t want to lose her, too. Plus it’s extraordinarily expensive,” she laughed humorously.

“The potion doesn’t put it off forever,” Hiccup warned. “The disease has finished transferring to the lungs and the petals will become more painful and frequent unless you do something about it. And you don’t know if it might get worse faster, depending on how Eret and Heather’s relationship evolves.”

“I know,” she said dully and reached for the parcel he’d brought, bigger than ever before.

So do something about it, he pleaded silently as he set her prescription. But he could see the dwindling light in her eyes. It was growing steadily. She had already given up on the endeavor before she really began..

She stormed into the office and slammed her purse on the desk. Hiccup looked up from his notebook, startled. Her eyes were brighter than before, but with the feverish gloss to them, not the healthy shine. “I need more,” she said simply. She shouldn't have been here so soon - she must have been consuming the potions more than she ought, but Hiccup wordlessly guided her to the back of the office to a waiting room. She took a bottle out of her bag and took a swig, throwing her head back like it was a shot of alcohol.

“Hey,” he caught her wrist as it came down. “Careful. You don’t need to drink that much. You should save it.”

“If you don’t let go of me I’m going to throw it,” she threatened in a low voice. He released her wrist quickly.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “If I could have the bottle please?” She handed it to him reluctantly. “How often do you get petals now?” he asked her. She slumped and rubbed her eyes.

“A lot,” she said. “Usually at least three a day, sometimes double that. They don’t come one at a time anymore, either. They usually come as two or three still attached petals.” Hiccup cringed. She caught his expression.

“It’s bad,” she stated. He hesitated.

“It is,” he relented. “But not impossible.” Not yet. She could live if she just tried, but it seemed she’d rather die before she did that.

“I’ve tried to distance myself,” she told him, her shiny eyes pleading. “I was hoping I could just . . . fall out of love.” Hiccup sighed.

“I don’t think that’s ever worked for Hanahaki,” he said sorrowfully. “The absence of requited love is what’s killing you.” She slammed her fist against the cot and he jumped.

“Dammit. Dammit!” she cried. “This is so unfair! I never asked for this! I didn’t want to be in love! I had - I had plans! I have a life! I can’t just die,” her voice broke. “Please don’t let me die.” The corners of her blue eyes glimmered as she begged him silently, tears threatening to fall despite her valiant efforts.

Hiccup swallowed. This was always the worst part. The part where he had to look these desperate, dying people in the eyes and tell them there was nothing he could do. He couldn't make people love each other - oh, but if only he could.

“I’ll do my best,” he said gravely. “But there isn’t much I can do.” Astrid’s face crumpled. “Have you thought about getting it removed?” he asked tentatively.

“Yes,” she said, her mouth twisting upwards into a grimace. “I wish I could, but it’s so expensive and I can’t afford it! Even if I had the money - my job, my lifestyle, I could never recover enough to go back to that! And the waiting list for the government to pay for the surgery and rehab is years long, which is stupid because this isn’t the kind of thing that waits.” Hiccup shook his head sadly.

“I’m sorry,” he said. Her face contorted and she screamed out loud in rage.

“How could this happen!” she cried. “I don’t want this! Why, why, why did this happen to me?” she sobbed. Hiccup stood there awkwardly, hating his life as he watched her helplessly. He got the feeling she didn’t cry often.

“What were your plans?” he asked when she’d quieted down a little later. Astrid wiped her eyes and squinted at him.

“What?” she asked, her voice still thick and hoarse.

“You said you had - plans. For your life. Before - What were they?” she scoffed.

“What, are you my therapist now?” she asked sardonically, her pretty lips twisting in a scowl. Hiccup shrugged. “I’m free for a couple hours, and it’s cathartic.”

“Fine,” she rolled her eyes. “I was, um. I was going to try to make it to the Olympics.”

“Oh!” he exclaimed. “Cool. What, ah, in what?”

“Gymnastics,” she replied. “A gold medal in vault, specifically.”

“Wow,” he commented. “That’d be really amazing. What do you do now?”

“I train, although that’s been getting harder with me coughing up flower petals as often as I do,” she smiled ruefully. “And when I’m not doing that I’m either working at the bookshop or studying.”

“You work at a bookshop?” Hiccup asked, surprised.

“Yeah, why?”

“Oh, I dunno. I just - figured you’d be a waitress or something like that.” She snorted. “Deal with those assholes all the time? I could never. Nah, a bookstore is quiet, and you don’t have to be nice to get paid”

“That’s fair,” Hiccup acknowledged.

“What about you?” Astrid asked.

“What?” he turned to her.

“What about you?” she waved a hand at him. “Tell me about yourself, you know, so this can be an actual conversation instead of awkward venting.” Her voice was nonchalant but her eyes sparkled with curiosity, a welcome change from the despair they had shown only a minute ago.

“Okay,” Hiccup said stupidly. “What do you want to know?”

“Why are you here?” she asked. “Isn’t it depressing, watching all these people dying because they’re too pathetic to get someone to love them?

“It’s not pathetic,” Hiccup responded. “It’s saddening. I mean, look at you,” he pointed at her. “You’re this beautiful woman, and yet you’re still here, dying from flower petals and unrequited love. It’s sad, yeah, but, I don’t know,” he cut himself off but she was looking at him intently, like she was interested in him as a person and he found himself continuing against his will.

“My dad - Hanahaki runs in the family,” he started over. Astrid cocked her head attentively. “And my dad, he caught Hanahaki. My Mom. She, uh, left us when I was a teenager and my Dad didn’t take it very well. He still loved her a lot, and then he caught Hanahaki and wasted away pretty quickly. I took care of him all those months, and it really left an impact on me, I guess. It’s become my kind of whole life’s work. He gestured around the room. “Here, I help people. I give them potions to keep them alive longer so they can make their other person fall in love with them. I - I track their cases and study them, finding the similarities and differences in hopes of finding a cure or at least a better counter effect. And yeah, most of them die but those who don’t? Those that succeed and get cured . . . they’re doing what my dad couldn’t, and I’m a part of that.” She stared at him for a few moments after he’d finished.

“Wow,” she said eventually. “That’s . . . powerful.”

“Yeah?” he asked hopefully. She nodded.

“I can’t imagine the bravery it must take to do this everyday,” she whispered, her eyes searching his face intently. He looked away, embarrassed and scratched the back of his neck bashfully.

“It’s nothing,” he laughed softly.

“No,” she insisted, reaching out to grab his hand. He stilled at the contact, his heart giving a flutter in his chest. “For us, it’s everything.” Hiccup’s throat tightened and he cleared it before he trusted himself to speak again.

“You have to try,” Hiccup told her, the lump in his throat that formed when he was around her forcing a bite in his voice. “What’s the point if you’re never going to try?”

“You don’t understand,” Astrid shook her head. “Heather is - she’s everything to me. She’s like my sister, sure, but she’s . . . she’s the one who’s been with me through thick and thin. I could never take away the one thing she values so much. She’s . . . relationships have never come easy. To either of us. And now she’s finally found her one - how could I possibly want to take that away from her.”

“Astrid,” Hiccup said in a low voice, crouching slightly to meet her downcast eyes. “If she’s been with you through thick and thin, don’t you think she’d support you now? Do you think she’d want to lose her best friend and isn’t even there to help through her chronic illness because you refused to tell her? This Eret guy, he sounds great, but is their love worth more than your life?”

“She would!” Astrid cried. “She would give him up for me, I know it. But she wouldn’t forgive me for it. And, even if she tried to make Eret fall in love with me - which she would - he genuinely loves her, he would never replicate my love with her around.”

“So you’d just never even try,” he scoffed, standing abruptly and pacing a few steps away from her.

“I -” she opened her mouth indignantly. “That’s not-”

“That’s exactly what this is!” Hiccup cried, spinning around to point at her angrily. A tight knot formed in his chest and rose to the bottom of his throat, uncomfortable as he tried to force his voice around it.

“Why are you angry?!” she cried.

“Because you’re supposed to be the one who’s successful!” he yelled at her. “You’re supposed to be the beautiful woman I was able to save!! You’re not supposed to give up when I’ve invested so much in you!”

“How dare you!” she cried. “I’m not just an investment you can show off!”

“No, no you’re not,” Hiccup spat. “You’re a person and I broke the rules of staying detached to cases because I started to care about you as a person, and now you’re forcing me to watch you die because you won’t even try to save yourself.”

“I-”

“And it’s not your fault for getting Hanahaki, but it is your fault for giving up here, and you’re not the one who has to suffer the consequences!”

“That’s - you’re wrong, okay! That’s not - you don’t understand or even know anything about me! We’re not friends! All you know about me is that I’m dying, but you have no idea who I am otherwise! And you have no right to make assumptions about something you know nothing about.”

“You may not have told me your whole sob story but I’m sure I could guess,” Hiccup sneered. “Let’s see; lonely successful girl. I’m guessing your parents were emotionally unavailable, and dropped you off at sports so you didn’t bother them. Never came to any of your games, and you tried to be the very best in a bid for their approval. You probably went through a rebellion phase in your late teenage years, but your friend Heather has been a steady rock for years now. So when you saw her enter a healthy and fulfilling relationship, you wanted one too. But instead of finding one for yourself, you latched onto the one right in front of you and fixated on Eret. And because of your emotional instability, you equated the ability to make Eret - a man happily taken and out of your reach - in love with you determine whether or not you were truly lovable, allowing the Hanahaki to take root because you’ve hinged your entire life and expectations on this unattainable goal. So now you’re dying, and you feel so guilty you’re willing to let that happen despite your desperate need to actually live life to its fullest.” His chest was heaving by the time he was finished, and Astrid mute in shock.

“You didn’t branch out with any of your relationships - romantic or platonic.” he continued. “And the awful thing is maybe you could have avoided this if you put yourself out there and made a few more meaningful relationships.” Astrid shook her head avidly and backed away. “I can’t -” she said, her voice so small it was hard to hear. “I-” she stumbled on the worn carpet and almost ran out the door, leaving Hiccup to sink in his seat and wonder what he had just done.

He slammed his hand on the desk, rustling the papers. His hand stung, and he filled himself a glass of water to soothe his throat, raw from yelling at her. An old vase caught his eye, the water in it long evaporated, leaving that disgusting brown sticky residue at the bottom, the long dead pink roses shriveled up forlornly. He and Fishlegs had tried to brighten up the space with flowers a while ago before stopping after realizing what a slap in the face it was. He threw the dried stalks out the window and washed the vase out. He hated pink flowers. He hated pretty girls who didn’t try to live. And most of all, he hated the fact he still cared when every person he cared about died from this stupid disease.

He was honestly surprised to see her again. He heard the click of her shoes on the stairs but didn’t dare look up to check who it was before she was standing in front of him.

“Hi,” she said quietly, and Hiccup snapped his head up to look at her.

“What?” he cried, scrambling upwards. “I, I - uh. I didn’t think you were coming back.”

“I still need the potions,” she said awkwardly, looking embarrassed. Hiccup deflated.

“Right. Yeah, sorry.” He turned to gather a few bottles - four, now, because she was starting to go through them unnervingly fast. “I also, um-”

“I want to apologize first,” Astrid interrupted.

“Wha-What?” Hiccup asked. “No, I’m the one-”

“I said some pretty awful things too,” Astrid insisted.

“Fine,” Hiccup rolled his eyes. “Go ahead.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I um. You were right. About me. I don’t know how because no one’s supposed to know about that. . . my inner feelings. I mean, I didn’t even know them. So also, thank you? For exposing me because I probably never would have confronted them on my own.”

“You’re - welcome? I am also sorry. I should never have yelled at you and presumed to know everything about you.”

“You said something about how this could have been avoided if I had more friends,” Astrid began. Hiccup opened his mouth to take those words back but she held up a hand. “And you’re kind of right,” she acknowledged. “Plus, I’m avoiding Heather and Eret so I’m lonely, and you’re the only one who really knows what’s going on with me and everything.”

“So you’re saying . . .” he trailed off.

“I’d like for us to be friends,” she clarified. “Like, outside of this clinic.”

“Really?” he asked. Hiccup’s heart skipped a beat.

“Yes,” she said, nonplussed. “I wouldn’t have mentioned it if I wasn’t serious.”

“I - yeah, I know that. Kinda. But I mean, you want to be friends? With me? After everything?”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “And not despite everything, but rather because of it. I mean, like you said, you’re already too emotionally invested and I could use an actual friend who knows what’s going on. Plus, you’re a pretty cool guy. I’m sure we’d have fun together.” Seeing his hesitation she added, “Please? Do it as my dying wish?” That brought a scowl to his face.

“Fine. I accept,” he pointed a finger at her. “Not because you’re dying, though, but rather in spite of it.”

“Great!” she smiled. “Would you be free to meet up sometime this weekend?” Hiccup sighed and nodded. Whatever he was getting himself into, he knew it wouldn’t be healthy for him. And yet, seeing the simple wish in her eyes for a friend, how could he possibly deny her? Besides, he’d always wanted a friend too.

Being Astrid’s friend was dangerous, because he got exposed to her magnetic force that had drawn him in when he only saw her with weeks in between, but she had latched onto him, seeking his company like her life depended on it, which was ironic. And he would get caught up in her lively laughter, her smiles, her dry perspective on life with that hint of whimsy underneath. She made him feel more alive than he had in years, but then he’d be privy to all her dosages of that damned potion. He’d watch as a thought of Eret crossed her mind and she’d double over, hacking so hard he’d have to wait before administering the potion so she could have a chance of digesting it, and each time he’d worry this would be the last cough and she’d die before he could pour that time-stealing liquid down her throat.

The disease had grown stronger. It thrived and originated off of unrequited love, yes, but that didn’t stop it from permeating every aspect of Astrid’s life - and now, his. He’d lost count of how many nights he’d stayed over at her place, holding back her hair as she drained her life out into the toilet, rubbing soothing circles along her back and whispering you’re gonna be okay. This isn’t it. Here, take this. Breathe. No - no, it’s alright. It’s okay. I’m still here. Yeah, I’ve got it right here. You’ll be okay, Astrid.

He told her he was the one who created the potion and why he wasn’t the official doctor instead of Fishlegs.

“But that’s amazing!” she exclaimed. “I mean, you made a successful remedy all on your own? And you were so young then, too. Surely that deserves a Nobel Prize or something.” He sighed.

“It doesn’t work like that,” he admitted. “I didn’t follow protocol . . . I did some pretty illegal things, and I went through a pretty shady testing process. And I don’t think they’d want to acknowledge someone like me was the one to come up with it and reveal how I was smart enough to go behind their backs, revealing them to be incompetent, or how Hanahaki wasn’t exactly as uncommon as they thought.” He usually had at least one customer every day, some of them from all over the world pleading for the tonic. He never had the heart to charge them, not when they had given up everything for this small chance.

He brought out his journals to show her one day when she felt too sick to get out of bed. “I didn’t document all of the cases, but, you know, most of them are there,” he shrugged as he dumped them on her plush duvet.

“How many years ago do they date back?” she asked.

“Since I was seventeen,” he replied. “Just over ten years now.” She flipped through the pages, complimenting his drawings of all the different flowers and crying sometimes at the struggles of the people recorded on the faded, cheap pages. So many had died, unable to stand a chance against the relentless flowers. There were few successful cases. She lingered particularly long on Dr. Atali’s.

“You know,” Hiccup said quietly after he cleaned her vomit up for the tenth time that day. “I have this theory that maybe Hanahaki could be cured by something other than the person you’re in love with.”

“Really?” Astrid asked weakly. “Do share.”

“I dunno,” he stared at her stained sheets. He hadn’t known how to clean them the first time she had gotten blood on them, but had since gotten better with lots and lots of practice. “From what I’ve observed, Hanahaki develops to literally fill a hole in your heart. I’d always hoped- I wondered if the cure is always that person’s requited love, or if it could ever be someone else’s.”

“What do you mean?” Astrid asked.

“Don’t get all excited,” Hiccup warned her. “But what if - what if the diseased could fall in love with someone else - someone who returned their love, and it cured them? I never had the courage to suggest it to a patient, but . . .” he swallowed. “You’re more than that now.” Astrid sat up slowly.

“You’re saying if I could fall in love with someone else I could cure myself?” she asked hopefully.

“No,” he corrected her. “I thought there might be a small possibility.”

“But if I could just like-”

“You have to love them,” he emphasized. “Probably more than you love Eret. And they’d have to love you back entirely. Not just some jerk who’s attracted to your looks and thinks your personality is just a nice bonus; it has to be unconditional. They’d have to love you just as much as you love them, with all their heart.” An unbidden seed sprouted and rose in his throat, but he forced the thought down. Like I do, he wanted to say, but no. No, he was already on dangerous ground. Yes, Astrid was already unlike everyone he’d ever met, but she was still just a friend. It wasn’t more than that. Hiccup knew he had a naturally caring nature and that was why he was so concerned about her, why on the nights he slept in his own rickety slat he woke up in a cold sweat, dreaming he’d wake up in the morning with Astrid gone, choking on her own bile or something equally horrific because he wasn’t there to help her to the bathroom. He cleared his throat, but it came out like a raspy cough.

“But if I found that?” she asked, her voice low, like the subject was sacred.

“There would still be no guarantee,” he said, wanting to swallow again to wet his dry throat.

“What do we have to lose though?” she persisted.

You, he thought.

She started to improve, little by little, but Hiccup did not get his hopes up. He had watched enough people to know the respite usually came before the last wave would hit the hardest. Winter came, and along with it a snuffling nose and cold mittens wrapped around his cracked mug. It was also the season for cough drops, and Hiccup consumed many to soothe his itchy, sore throat from the harsh wind, using honey instead of sugar for the time being to sweeten his coffee in the mornings.

“Hey!” a bright voice greeted him and he couldn’t help but smile even as his heart twisted in his chest. His theory had given her hope and it pained him to think of what would happen when it was proven wrong. There was also an ugly pain in the back of his mind at thinking of watching her try to fall in love with someone else. Whoever they were, they would never deserve her, and how could the undeserving twit possibly be the one to cure her of her affliction? It wasn’t fair, not with all those late nights and lunch breaks and early mornings he had put into taking care of her. For what would happen once she was free from the need of his stupid potions? None of his successful cases had ever stuck around, too caught up in their honeymoons of feelings and relief to care about him. He had used to wish he wouldn’t see her again when she’d first started to come in so he could believe she’d been successful in her cure, but now he couldn’t bear it. They were friends now, but that was because he was the only other person she had that wouldn’t cause her to die quicker.

“Wow,” she commented gently, bringing him out of his reverie. “You look like you’re thinking a lot.”

“No more than usual,” he replied blithely. “You look especially light hearted today, practically radiant.” He froze as his words registered. He hadn’t meant to compliment her. But then, maybe he could let it slide this time as Astrid’s cheeks warmed with a delicious pink not from the cold. She studied the dusty floor for a little bit, recovering her composure before she spoke again.

“I’ve been thinking,” she began.

“Thor help me,” he muttered. She smacked his arm lightly and he laughed. “Seriously,” she complained. “I’ve been thinking about your theory.” Hiccup’s smile dwindled.

“Astrid, it’s just a theory. There’s no research behind it. You can’t put too much hope in it; it’s never been tried before.”

“Well, then I can try it and you can add it to your research even if it’s a dead end -” she cut herself off with a laugh at the pun while Hiccup tried not to choke at the idea. “And refer to it with your other patients.”

“Astrid-” he began.

“You’re not going to stop me,” Astrid interrupted. “I think your idea has merit and I’m going to try it if it’s the last thing I do. Remember what you said four months ago before we were friends?”

“I said a lot of things,” he groaned, already knowing that Astrid had won the argument. A fond, tickling sensation made itself known in his esophagus and he tried to ignore it.

“You said you think I latched on to Eret because I just wanted a relationship for myself! So my Hanahaki isn’t even as emotionally tied to the subject of my affections the same way others might have been. I have a chance, Hiccup,” she pleaded. “And it’s given me hope. Besides, I’ve already chosen my guy.”

This time Hiccup did choke. “What?” he spluttered.

“I have a guy that I’m . . . developing feelings for,” she said breezily, like her words weren’t crawling into his chest like thorny roots and piercing his lungs. “And I think he would meet all the requirements if I got him to care for me, which I’m confident I can do.”

“Oh,” Hiccup said stupidly. His heart sank at the thought of her smiling at some unknown face with that sparkle in her eyes. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but it had, because, well, wasn’t she supposed to be in love with someone else already? He imagined her laughing over coffee with this unknown guy, bright blue eyes and pink cheeks with those adorable bangs falling into her eyes and making her toss her head endearingly. He was probably handsome and muscular and cleaned his room and didn’t run a slightly illegal rundown, decrepit pharmacy that had needed a new coat of paint for the last four years. He fought against a petulant frown.

Astrid rolled her eyes at him and he felt indignant. What else was he supposed to say? “Um, well let’s talk about this some more at lunch,” he suggested, feeling like an idiot.

“Perfect,” she flashed bright white teeth at him and bounced out of the room. He followed her with his eyes and then his ears until he heard the door close downstairs before he doubled over in a coughing fit. He coughed and coughed and coughed but that soft bit of mucus just wasn’t coming out so he staggered over to the sink to continue hacking. He felt something slimy on the back of his tongue and frantically tried to spit it out. It was a large glob that . . . didn’t feel like a glob. As he wagged his tongue, a feeling of dread settled in his stomach. He spit, and it landed in the sink, clear in its condemnation.

A blue oleander petal lay starkly against the stained steel of the sink. He stared at it unblinkingly, his mind running through all the coughs from his cold in the past weeks, the itches from the weeks before. The tickling sensations all those months ago. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He was supposed to be the one who caught himself before this happened!!

A blue oleander. Sometimes he had tried to find amusement in the bleak stream of dying patients and had rated the different flowers that came out of their mouth. Cherry blossoms were the most common, followed by roses, and boy, were those horrific. Cherry blossoms were small enough, and while they killed just as easily, there was something particularly gruesome about roses. They were huge, and of the three people he’d watched hack roses out of their throats, the flowers had been whole. With stems. And thorns. He remembered the first time he had seen someone reach into their mouth and tug the rose out, sobbing in pain as the thorns caught and shredded their throat. They hadn’t known whether to spit the blood out or try to swallow it. Hiccup had thrown up that night when he’d gone home.

But blue oleander. That was a new plant. Fitting, given that he had named his business after it. It was a simple plant with small, brightly colored flowers. He knew his oleanders well. The red ones were good for decorations while the purple ones had healing properties. But the blue ones, well. They were poisonous. To humans and other creatures. If the myths about dragons were true, the beasts couldn’t sniff one without being affected. Humans, on the other hand, would have to ingest a good amount of concentrate for the flowers to have any serious negative effect, but the fact he had poisonous flowers growing somewhere in his lungs? Well that didn’t fill him with dread at all.

He’d also never seen this flower up close. Due to their poisonous nature, blue oleanders were banned in multiple countries. The pictures had never done its color justice. The petals were a stark electric blue - rather like Astrid’s eyes, he realized.

“Is it contagious?” a patient had asked once. She had been a frail girl of twelve. She hadn’t lasted long. Hiccup remembered crouching down in front of her to meet her worried eyes and flashing her a crooked smile.

“No,” he had assured her kindly. “No, it’s not contagious.”

But at that moment, it felt like it was. He felt like he had kissed a hundred people with tuberculosis in one room and believed he was perfectly safe. He had exposed himself to her, and now he had caught the deadly disease. How ironic, that he had caught it now, after falling in love with a person who had it for someone else.

Oh, this was just his luck! He knew that he was particularly susceptible to Hanahaki, but as the lonely years had gone by he hadn’t ever thought he’d actually catch it! Not when he never got out enough to form attachments to anybody. Of course, the universe hated him, so the person he’d fall for so hard it’d cause him to die would be a girl who was already dying because she was in love with someone else.

And now she was trying to fall in love with someone else. People had never been successful in falling out of love to escape their Hanahaki, but he sincerely hoped that their method would just be more like a transfer, filling the requirement of reciprocation. But what guy could she mean? Who could she have possibly been seeing? It wasn’t jealousy that made him wonder, simply protectiveness. She was sick and ready to latch onto anyone who would help her - who was he to know if this other guy didn’t have alternate ambitions?

And, selfishly, he didn’t want to be the one to break his heart and give his life to cure her so she could bestow her love on another man. That was awful of him, he knew, but he was dying, couldn’t he think mean things?

But she’d never return his feelings. How could she? She was so far out of his league there was no way she could ever feel the same. She was a successful young woman, ambitious and hardworking. How could he and his run down business, peeling paint, and awkward self ever hope to match her?

His affliction progressed at an exponential rate. The thing about Hanahaki being tied to love was that the more he loved her, the more it hurt (the more he died). So he brought his own bottles of remedies and swigged a great gulp before he knocked on her door and she opened it with a smile. When she’d start coughing he’d jump out of his chair to get her a bottle, and take a sip as he was returning it to the medicine cabinet. She didn’t have much time left, as she was coughing all the time now, not just when she thought about Eret or maybe the other guy.

And it was painful, trying to support her while she talked about her new guy with shining eyes, catching her when she coughed so loudly she couldn’t stand.

“You know, even if this doesn’t work, at least you’ll have tried, right?” she’d said after she caught the worried look in his eyes. “I’ll go in your journal - you’ll make my portrait pretty, right?”

No, he thought. Because I probably won’t last long enough after you.

“Hey,” are you okay?” Astrid started asking as he was excusing himself from the room nearly every minute.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he assured her.

“Are you sure?” she checked. Her hair was falling distractingly over her shoulder, her pink lips pressed together in concern. He felt a flower start to build in his throat again. While Astrid’s Hanahaki had been petals upon petals - the type of illness where the infected usually died of suffocation instead of drowning - Hiccup had whole flowers coming out of his mouth. The stamens and filaments along with the petals. The full on stems and leaves had not yet arrived, so he had some time, but gods, it felt like he was already dead

“Mhm,” he smiled tightly at her. “Of course. I just - I just need the bathroom.” He backed away, trying to breath slowly as his throat clogged up with flower heads.

“Again?”

“Yes,” he bit out as gently as he could. “When you gotta go you gotta go!” He fled to the other room, refusing to be embarrassed by what he’d just said. Yes, he was dying, but did he really have to insinuate he had terrible bladder control in front of the gorgeous girl he liked? Part of him contemplated throwing up the flowers down the toilet but if one petal didn’t get flushed his secret would be out. He snuck to the pantry instead, grabbing paper towels that he carefully spit into, his stomach curling in disgust. He folded the towels and stuffed them into his back pocket, to be later hidden in his bag. He let out another cough and reached for a bottle, uncorking his and closing his eyes in relief as he took a sip.

“-Hiccup?” His eyes flew open in surprise and he inhaled the drink. “Oh no!” she reached for him and he shied away reflexively, ignoring the way her beautiful face fell.

“I’m fine!” he gasped as he coughed to clear his throat. “Really, just - went down the wrong pipe.”

“What are you doing?” she demanded, crossing her arms.

“I - I was just thirsty?” he tried.

“Why are you drinking that?” she asked sharply, jutting her chin towards the bottle still in his hand. His eyes widened in panic and he pretended they were widening in realization.

“What the - Whaaaat? Oh my God, this wasn’t what I meant to pick up! Ha ha . . . that explains why it tasted so funny.” Astrid grabbed the bottle from his hand.

“Stop lying to me,” she ordered, her voice growing thick with intimidation. “Why are you drinking your potion?”

“I wanted to see how it tasted?” he tried.

“The truth, Hiccup!” she yelled. She let out a cough, a couple light pink petals falling from her mouth, and Hiccup had the stupidest urge to cough with her.

“I-” his voice was strained from holding the cough in.

“Please, tell me what’s happening,” she said desperately. “Why are you always running away? Lying to me? Am I doing something - am I making you uncomfortable? I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry about all of this. I - trust me, I don’t want to do this either. I thought you wouldn’t mind - I mean. But this - you - don’t tell me -”

“Of course not,” Hiccup interrupted. The only thing he had left was the dignity of not being hopelessly in love with her. His hand went automatically to his back pocket. Her eyes followed his hand and he gave in to the unbearable suffocating itch in his throat. As he bent over she lunged for his pocket, dragging the bunched up paper towel. He cried out, trying to grab it back but she was quick, dancing out of his reach as he had to hack again, stiff leaves and petals scraping the raw insides of his throat. She undid the wad of paper towel just as he spit out his own plant. She dropped the package in horror, bright blue flowers falling onto the wooden floor next to Hiccup’s whole flower. It was a wet, drowned reminder of a romantic gesture. A part of him almost wanted to pick it off the floor and present it to Astrid, the way a suitor might pick a pretty, blooming flower for his lady.

“No,” she whispered brokenly. Her knees gave out from under her and she collapsed onto the floor. “No no no no nononono.”

“Astrid,” he reached a hand out to her shoulder but hesitated. She would probably push his touch away. “I’m sorry,” he told her. “I really - I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“How long?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

“Not long,” he sighed. “It’s just - powerful. Very powerful.” She let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh.

“Who is it?” she asked dangerously.

“Astrid-”

“Who is the bitch that got your love and never returned it!” she cried loudly. “Who? Who is the other person who is doubtless better than me? WHO is killing you?!!! Why -” her face crumpled and she tried to stifle a sob. “Why is it never me?”

“Astrid-”

“No!” she wailed. “You don’t understand! I was - you were my hope! It was supposed to work!! And all this time - all this time you were keeping this from me!”

“No, wait-”

“Who is it?” she demanded, grabbing the front of his shirt and his eyes fought to not flutter shut and imagine her kissing him. “I’ll storm over to them and demand they love you back-”

“That’s not necessary,” he assured her.

“You can’t die!” she exploded. “You’re not allowed! I’m not going to let you! Please! Live. If one of us has to go it should be me-”

“Hey,” Hiccup cupped her face, silencing her. “I - I know you don’t want me to die. And I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t want to tell you because I knew you’d feel bad and I want - I want you to be happy. I want you to make it out of this alive. Ever since - Even when I first met you I never wanted you to come back if it meant you were still alive. And every time you did, I wanted to cure you more and more. You have always been the one who deserves to live. And I - I had a crush on you, okay? I liked you so I was trying to help but then we became actual friends and - oh, this is so messed up,” he groaned.

She sank to the floor. “So the person you’re . . .” she trailed off.

“It’s you, Astrid,” he admitted, his eyes shut tightly. “I’m sorry.”

“Wh-”

“I know you already like someone else and you’re trying to get them to fall in love with you. I would never want to intrude on that.”

“Hiccu-”

“And I really didn’t want to offend you, because, I mean, who would want me? I’m just - it’s pathetic and I knew there was no hope so I didn’t want to worry you and-”

“HICCUP!” she shouted and he cringed. She grabbed him by the shirt again violently. “I’m going to need you to stop for one second because I just find it so incredibly rude that you think I wouldn’t be head over heels in love with you. You’re amazing! You’ve dedicated your life to helping people - strangers! And you’re smart and you’re funny and kind and handsome-” she broke off her rant with a wet laugh.

“Isn’t it obvious?” she asked, blinking back tears. “Why do you think I kept coughing more when you were around? Why - why do you think I told you about my plan to make a guy I’d been spending a lot of time with and had gotten feelings for to like me? Why do you think keeping the fact you were dying hurt me so much?”

Hiccup blinked.

“I love you, you stupid, dense brick of a man! I love you, Hiccup. I - I - I-” She smashed her lips onto his ferociously and his shoulders sagged in relief. Somehow - and he was most likely wrong - she had confessed her love for him and now they were kissing. This was beyond his wildest dreams - okay, maybe not his wildest - but, well, even if this was just a dream, why not take advantage of it? He brought a hand to cup the back of her head, tangling it in her golden hair and angling her face as she shifted herself into his lap on the floor.

“You love me?” he asked as they broke apart for air.

“You’re an idiot,” she snarled half heartedly, punching him in his left shoulder. But before he had time to wince she pulled him in for another kiss. Something loosened in his throat and suddenly all those petals that had been there, threatening to burst again seemed to disappear.

They were in a dark pantry, bloody flowers and wet paper towels littering the floor around them, and Hiccup was sure it was the most romantic scene he’d ever beheld.

“It worked,” Hiccup said, shaking his head in amazement as his pencil hovered above the journal’s page. “We actually transferred the Hanahaki subject to someone else. You were sick for me, not Eret.” How was it possible to feel smug about her having a deathly illness regarding him? He wouldn’t think it possible, but here he was.

“You were also sick,” Astrid reminded him. “It happened around the same time I decided to try to transfer it onto you.”

“What?” Hiccup exclaimed. “No way.”

“Yeah-huh,” Astrid nodded. “Coincidence? I think not.”

“You’re saying that in transferring the subject of your Hanahaki, so to speak, the disease infected the new subject too?”

“We are dealing with the unprecedented,” Astrid shrugged. “It’s entirely possible.”

“But I already had a crush on you,” Hiccup argued. “I just couldn’t admit it until I was spitting bloody flowers out.”

“Well, maybe it only affected you because you already had feelings for me,” she conceded. Her eyes sparkled. “But what we do know for sure is that we’ve successfully cured Hanahaki disease for someone else.” Hiccup’s head snapped up to meet hers.

“Do you know what this means?” he exclaimed, standing up from his chair to pace around the room.

“I think so,” she smiled softly.

“I mean,” he amended. “We were pretty lucky, it might not work again if the other person isn’t already in love, but -” he laughed disbelievingly.

“We have a cure for Hanahaki,” he repeated. “We can . . . people don’t have to die anymore.”

“As long as we pair them up well,” Astrid added. “Maybe we should add ‘matchmaking’ to our services.” Hiccup rolled his eyes at her teasingly.

“Well, I guess we’ll just have to see next time.” Astrid grinned.

#hiccstridweek2024 #Day 7 #love #love confessions #Hanahaki au #hanahaki disease #Hiccstrid #Hiccstrid au #my writing #Hiccup Haddock #Astrid Hofferson #angst #tw: blood #tw: discussions of death #how to train your dragon #HTTYD #HTTYD au #HTTYD fanfiction #blue oleander

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