#but then today. she asked me again if i already had my watercolors and i told her ”oh I don't. but I'll work with my color pencils today” | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

d1xonss · 6 months

Text

Desert Rose

Chapter 22 ~ Scars

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Rose

✧ Era : Season 2

✧ Word Count : 5.4k

⚠️ TW : Mentions of attempted suicide & SH scars

In this chapter ~ When Rick and Shane decide to take Randall away from their people to drop him and fend for himself, things seem to go wrong on the other end. Beth becomes suicidal after witnessing the death of her mother just days prior, leading Rose to comfort her in a time of need. However, the heaviness that followed was a lot more than she anticipated, though luckily for her, Daryl helps her pick up the pieces.

It had been about two days since they brought Randall back, and he eventually woke from his unconscious state. Since then the place had been chaotic.

The group was constantly going around and around in circles about what to do with this guy, so much so it gave me a pounding headache. Because most of the time the arguments wouldn't go anywhere. People would just repeat the same things that had already been said, causing us to feel stuck in the same place as no one really had a solution.

Until Rick just made the final decision to do what he wanted to since the beginning, take the man far away from the farm and drop him off on his own.

So now that the man was finally able to walk and balance decently on his own, Rick and Shane took a car to drive him out in the middle of nowhere, leaving the rest of us nervously waiting for their return. Everyone eventually seemed to agree with the plan despite the possibilities of him coming back, but it's not like we had much of a choice.

I for one was trying to keep myself busy all day, helping Lori with some laundry, staying to keep watch on top of the RV, I even made a run into town earlier that morning with Glenn. We had found a few different stores in a small part of town that had some useful things in them. But there was a little something else I found that I was extra excited about besides the food and supplies.

When we walked into the last store, I saw it. The perfect thing to give to Daryl. I had never gotten him something in return when he gave me my sketchbook and watercolors, but now I had something that I thought would suit him quite nicely. It was a black leather vest with stitched angel wings on the back.

In my mind, I hoped he would really like it and I had planned to give it to him later that night. Once we all knew Randall was taken care of.

Currently I was washing dishes with Maggie, occasionally talking about random things, trying to get our minds off of what was happening today. I could easily tell she hadn't stopped thinking about it since it happened either, the anxious feeling of the man somehow making his way back to her own home couldn't have been easy to deal with. But I had hope that everything would work out just fine and things would begin to move smoothly again.

She wordlessly handed me the last plate that was in the sink, water dripping off of the edges as I took the towel in my hands to dry it. She leaned her back up against the counter as she stared down at her shoes, the sound of me stacking the final plate in the cabinet brining her out of her thoughts as she glanced back up to me nervously.

"Can I talk to you about something... more serious?" she asked.

I only nodded my head as I listened, throwing the towel back down on the counter to give her my full attention as I copied her stance.

"Well, Glenn's been avoiding me lately, and he told me that when he was out there trying to fight those guys, he froze at one point. He was saying that since I told him I loved him... that's the reason he froze, and my dad had to save his life. He said he was afraid to die... thinking about how it would affect me." she finished almost a little shamefully.

My eyes widened a bit as I was a little thrown off and not expecting that, but I was still quick to respond and reassure her. "Listen, I know that it might not feel too great that he's avoiding you, but the truth is he loves you too. I don't think he should be avoiding you, I think he should be cherishing these moments he has with you, but y'know he's a guy." I pointed out, giving her a look she would be able to read.

She laughed quietly to herself as she nodded her head in silent understanding, "But he'll come around, I promise. You just gotta give him a little time." I finished.

She pressed her lips together and nodded gratefully, "Thank you." she said, "I feel like I can really talk to you ya know? I'm glad you're here."

I smiled, "Yeah, me too." I spoke, opening my mouth again before closing it back up quickly. My dumbass almost slipped up and said something about how I was glad that I stayed, but I bit my tongue before it could come out.

My eyes then absentmindedly panned over towards the tray of food that Maggie had set off to the side a few minutes ago, "Is this for Beth?" I asked, quickly changing the subject.

She followed my gaze and nodded, "Oh yeah, I was about to bring that up to her when we were done."

"Oh I got it, I was going to check on her soon anyways." I said, moving towards the counter.

She smiled gratefully, "Thank you. You know Beth really likes you. Ever since you taught her how to play those few songs on the guitar it's really all she can really talk about. I think seeing you would cheer her up."

"Yeah, I had fun teaching her, I'm sure she'll be ready to learn some more in no time." I reassured her.

Maggie nodded her head and I fully picked up the tray in my hands, walking out of the kitchen to head upstairs and into Beth's room. It seemed quieter than usual as I made my way up the familiar stairs, something seeming a little off. But I mostly blamed it on Rick and Shane's absence, still not here even after leaving early this morning.

For some reason the whole thing left a bad taste in my mouth, sensing something might go wrong out there, not necessarily with Randall. But with each other.

After what happened with the barn and the whole fight that came after that, the two had been at each other's throats ever since. It was way far off from how they used to act around each other, seeming more like brothers than friends. But something just clicked and now they almost acted like strangers. Though it was none of my business, I still noticed.

Pushing my thoughts aside, I made it up the long staircase and lingered by the closed door, knocking softly a few times before I entered. To my surprise, I heard her soft voice from the other side invite me in, causing me to open the door as best as I could with the tray still balanced in my hands.

"Hey hon, it's just me." I announced as I walked in, "I brought you something to eat, and to see how you were doing."

Her gaze panned over towards me, and my breath hitched slightly in the back of my throat. I knew that familiar look all too well. I tried to not let it affect me too much in case I was wrong, but I had a feeling I wasn't. She looked utterly broken and depressed, much more pale with bags under her eyes from the lack of sleep. She had just lost her mom, I came to find out that she was the walker Beth ran to after everything happened. I'm pretty sure I couldn't have felt worse for her after finding that out, now more than ever seeing her like this.

"You can just set it down here." she said, pointing over towards the side table next to her bed.

I did what she asked and stood there for a moment as she stared at the sandwich on the plate, "Do you want me to stay, or do you want some space."

"Some space. If that's okay?" she asked.

"Yeah of course," I said immediately, "Just...call if you need anything." I finished with a smile.

She barely gave me a noticeable nod before I turned on my heel to give her some time alone, but I couldn't just brush off the vibe I picked up. It again could be nothing, just being paranoid over something I was reading too much into. But in case I was right, I didn't just want to keep it to myself.

I ventured back down the stairs, peeking in the kitchen again to see if Maggie was around, but the room was empty by the time I got back. A sigh left my lips as I turned back around to try and find her, but I managed to spot Lori entering the house right as I was about to come down the hall.

"Oh hey, Lori?" I called out as I approached her.

She turned towards me with a small smile, hanging up her jacket, "Hey, what's up?" she asked.

My eyes glanced back up the stairs momentarily before turning back to her, slightly lowering my voice, "I just...I'm worried about Beth. She just seems a little off and I was going to find Maggie to let her know but-"

"I can tell her." she offered with a nod, "I'll keep an eye on her until she comes back."

"Yeah that would be great." I spoke gratefully, "She's just up in her room and wanted to be left alone... but I don't know I think Maggie should know."

"Absolutely." she agreed instantly, "I'll tell her the next time I see her, okay?"

I nodded, "Thanks." I said with a small smile, passing her as I moved to exit the house.

I felt a little bad not telling Maggie about it myself, but knowing someone else would keep an eye out for Beth gave me a little piece of mind. I didn't want to hover over her or pick up any overprotective instincts even though in the back of my mind I knew it was inevitable. I just wanted her to be okay.

The rest of the day passed by slowly, leaving nothing much to do around camp and everyone simply doing their own thing for the day. After not being able to find Maggie, looping around the farm a couple of times, I assumed she was back in the house at this point. So I took the much needed time to myself.

A few hours passed by with me just laying down in the yellow tent trying to relax as best as I could. Spending most of the time reading the book Daryl had stolen from me when he got hurt and it actually turned out to be pretty good, only drawing me more in with each chapter. The details were amazing and I loved the plot. I didn't plan on giving this back to him anytime soon.

I hadn't seen him for most of the day because he decided to go out hunting fairly early in the morning, leaving camp before the sun even rose. He offered for me to come with him, but I declined as I needed to go out on that run with Glenn to get some things for myself, and he understood. I just hoped he would be back soon along with Rick and Shane who continued to be gone for far too long.

Damn it was like everyone was missing today.

After closing in on the last chapter, I finally shut the book after what felt like forever, blinking my eyes a few times to adjust them. For hours I had been reading tiny words on these pages and I felt that it was time for a break. So, I placed the book back in my bag, standing to leave the tent and walked outside a little to stretch my legs, leaning from side to side as I was hunched over for many hours.

I glanced around the small camp to see who was around, before my eyes suddenly stopped on Carl sitting by the RV. He seemed distant as he glanced at the comic book sitting in his lap, barely reading over the pages as he sloppily flipped through them. A pain in my chest suddenly dispersed upon seeing him like this, knowing that he hadn't been the same since he witnessed Sophia coming out of that barn. But who could blame him?

He was grieving in his own way, separating himself from the others as much as he could for just some time alone to think. I hadn't had a proper conversation with him since that day everything went wrong, keeping my distance as that's what he seemed to wish for. But I shook my head as I began to walk over towards him, wanting to talk to him for the first time in what felt like too long.

"Hey kid." I greeted him.

He glanced up and gave me a slight smile, "Hey." he spoke as he closed the book to give me his attention.

I moved to take a seat next to him on the ground, "So, what're you reading? Tell me about it." I said.

His eyes lit up "Really?"

I chuckled a little, "Yeah, why not. Who's this?" I asked, pointing to some sort of superhero.

His excited demeanor never faltered as he went on to tell me everything that was happening in this comic book. Who all of the characters were, what their powers were, and what their mission was. This was one of the first times I had seen him get excited about something in what felt like forever, and it warmed my heart at just the sight. He began to slowly open up a little bit more the longer we talked, changing the subject a few times to talk about his favorite cartoons he used to watch before the outbreak.

I enjoyed watching him smile, it felt like it had been some time since it last happened, and I was just glad to distract him even if it was only for a few minutes. A kid his age should never have to go through half the shit that's he's been through, though he was tougher than I ever could've imagined.

After we finished talking for a while, I left him to read it in peace after that. I wanted him to have his space too, and I never wanted to overstep any boundaries, especially when it came time to grieve someone.

I found myself heading back into the house to grab something to eat afterwards, but as soon as I walked in, I jumped a little as I suddenly heard screaming from just up the stairs. I didn't hesitate for a second before I was rushing up the steps two at a time, jogging into Beth's room to see Maggie and Lori were yelling and banging on the bathroom door.

"Woah, woah, what's happening?" I asked.

Maggie's head whipped around to face me, "Beth...Beth tried to kill herself and now locked herself in the bathroom, I heard glass." she spoke quickly, continuing to pound on the door, pleading with Beth to listen.

Panic flooded through me. She tried to kill herself? And was now attempting again? I stood in the doorway frozen in shock as I felt as though I couldn't move a thing. But then my eyes quickly darted around the room, looking for something to get the door open. Lori had moved to search the room for the key, frantically looking through her drawers as fast as she could, but I spotted a metal rod sitting in the corner of the room. I didn't think twice about it as I stepped forward, picking it up in my hands before telling Maggie to move out of the way quickly and she jumped back.

Sticking the thing in between the lock and the wood, I pushed on it as hard as I could in an attempt to pry it open. There was a sudden crack after a few seconds before the wooden door suddenly flew open, revealing Beth standing there with her hand over her wrist, blood pouring out of it. Her head whipped over to us frantically as soon as she heard the door breaking, tears streaming down her face and her heart no doubt racing out of her chest.

"I'm sorry." she sobbed, and Maggie didn't waste anymore time as she went in to pull her close.

I ditched the metal rod in my hands, stepping inside the bathroom only to realize how severe the cut actually was. Blood was now running down her arm and onto the tile floor, the amount of pressure she was putting on it clearly wasn't enough. I quickly placed my hand on Maggie's shoulder to get her attention, gently pulling Beth out of her hold.

"Go get your dad, he's going to need to stitch this up." I said, trying to hide the panic in my tone.

But she caught it even though it was disguised, quickly nodding her head as she left right along with Lori to try and find Hershel as fast as possible. Beth looked up at me and opened her mouth to speak, but only a sob came out as she ducked her head, causing me to immediately shush her and bring her into a hug.

We all had different experiences with mental health, everything was dealt with differently, but I somewhat knew how she was feeling. I had been in her position not that long ago and seeing her standing there when I first opened the door, brought all the memories back, so fast it was like a tidal wave. The whole situation nearly knocked me off my goddamn feet.

After standing in place for a while as she sobbed into my arms, I slowly started to bring her back into her attached bedroom, sitting her down on the bed so she could try to relax and focus on her breathing as she put more pressure on the wound.

Hershel frantically came in soon after that with a needle and thread and started to stitch his daughter up as she cried. I stayed by her side the whole time, holding her hand to offer her some type of comfort I was able to give. Though it was heartbreaking hearing her cry, and even more heartbreaking seeing Hershel try to pull himself together as he worked. I tried to think over the right things to say to her when the time came, but I felt that there was no right thing to say. What could you say after something like this?

After Hershel was done he said he would talk to her later and soon left the room in a hurry to no doubt let a few tears fall, leaving Beth and I alone again. She slowly laid down on the mattress after he left, her cheeks still stained with tears as she tried to calm herself down, with me rubbing her back towards the end of the bed. The silence slowly becoming deafening.

"Are you mad at me too?" she suddenly asked. I could feel the pain in her voice.

I whipped my head to look at her, "Oh my God honey no, I'm not mad at all. And neither is Maggie or your dad, they just love you so much. Seeing you like this... it hurts them, you know?"

She sighed as she shook her head, "I just feel so alone in this, like they don't even understand. Nobody does." she muttered.

"You're not alone." I said with a shake of my head, "I can promise you that."

"How do you know?" she was quick to ask.

My breath caught in my throat as I thought back to my own experiences, so different, yet so similar to hers. I debated in my head for a long time in the dead silence, letting the seconds turn into minutes if I really wanted to do this. I had never dared to show anyone the things I kept only to myself, ashamed of what others might think if they caught a glimpse of them. It made me feel vulnerable, weak, and that was something that I hated, but I needed to show her that someone here understood what she was going through.

So with a heavy breath, I hesitantly lifted my shirt sleeves to reveal my deeper scars on my wrists, trying to ignore the twist in my stomach as the cold air hit my arms. Her eyes followed my movements, immediately seeing them and I watched her eyes get wider with each passing second.

"I know." I assured after the agonizing silence.

She shook her head in disbelief, "You-"

"Yeah." I interrupted her, almost like I didn't want to hear her say it.

"It was uh... at a really hard time in my life. I won't bore you with the details but someone in my life was making me feel worthless. He told me that so much I started to believe it myself, and I got really depressed. Eventually I thought that... doing this was my only option so I... tried. But I regretted it as soon as I saw the blood, kind of like you did. So I called for help and I... saved my own life that night."

She stared at me so intently, listening carefully to every word that came out of my mouth. I knew I could trust her to not say anything to anyone, just as she knew I wouldn't judge her for trying to do what she did. It was like a silent agreement that we had at that moment.

"Look, my point is I don't know exactly how you feel and I never will. But we were in the same boat you and me, we're fighters and I know you'll make it through this. You just proved that today when you stopped yourself." I said.

Her eyes refilled with tears as she looked at me with utter sadness, "I didn't realize...I'm so sorry Rose."

I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, not wanting her to see me cry as I smiled sadly, "I'm sorry too." I whispered before bringing her into a hug.

She clung onto me tightly as the new fresh tears fell down her face, sobs erupting from her lungs. All the emotions mixed with the exhaustion was truly taking a toll on her body, but I was prepared to hold her for as long as she needed. Just like I wished someone had held me.

Once her cries quieted down after a few minutes, I spoke quietly to her, "I am always going to be here for you, okay? You're never alone in this. Never." I assured as I held her tighter.

"Okay." she whispered, hiccups building in the back of her throat.

Although I couldn't see her face as she spoke, I knew now that she believed me, and knew that I wasn't going anywhere. Hell, I would be at her beck and call always if that meant saving her life. I somehow knew then that everything would be okay, maybe not at first but it would be. Beth was strong and I could see that so clearly, even if she couldn't see it yet herself, she was going to be okay.

After I knew for sure she was okay for the night, her assuring me multiple times, I said my goodbyes and walked out to send Hershel back in the room to talk to her. Nothing could've probably prepared him for the things that man had to do today, but I just couldn't get over the look on his face. It was like he had seen a ghost when he first burst into the room, and it was devastating.

After I walked out of her bedroom, I found him just sitting a few feet away outside, telling him he was good to head in, but before I could walk away he caught my arm to stop me.

"Thank you for...comforting her at a time like this. I just... I don't know what to say to her once I go in there. But just know I appreciate you Rose, thank you so much." he said with visible tears in his eyes.

I took his hand off my arm, squeezing it tightly, "Just be there for her, okay? Let her do the talking first. And it's no problem, I care about all of you so much."

He nodded and then suddenly did something I didn't expect, he hugged me. I sighed to myself before I was soon hugging him back for a few moments before letting him go after a few short seconds so he could talk to Beth. After watching him go, shutting the door behind him to leave only a crack, I made a beeline down the stairs and out of the house. I practically jogged all the way back to the tent, tears threatening to fall from my eyes as I desperately tried to keep myself together. But the moment I zipped up the entrance, finding myself completely alone, I let it all out.

Seeing Beth like that was too much for me, but I wouldn't dare let her know that. She needed me and I was going to be there for her, however it just brought back painful memories from my past that I so desperately tried to avoid. I just sat there and cried quietly as I hugged my arms around my middle from the slight chill in the night. Rethinking everything that had happened today, I couldn't help but wonder how it could've been different if I had just stayed inside that damn house. How I could've prevented something from happening if I had tracked down Maggie myself. Maybe things could've been different.

But suddenly the zipper of the tent was being opened quickly, and Daryl was making his way inside as he finally returned from his hunt. I quickly looked away from him while frantically wiping my eyes, knowing he hadn't heard me crying, not even noticing I was in here at all at first from how silent I had been.

"Oh, hey." he greeted once his eyes raised from his boots, "I was bout to look for-" he then stopped himself noticing immediately the state that I was in, "Rose? Hey, what's wrong?" he asked, coming to kneel in front of me.

I tried to pull myself together, "Nothing, I'm okay." I said as I looked to the side, basically anywhere but his face.

I couldn't look at him, I just knew I would break down if I did. I could already feel the new tears building up in my eyes as I felt him gently take my hand in his and rub the back of it lightly with his thumb.

"Talk to me." he said in a soft voice.

I didn't say anything. I didn't even know where to start, today had just been painfully long and all I wanted was to go to sleep so it would be finally over. It seemed like we couldn't catch a break. And as if it couldn't get any worse, I saw out of the corner of my eye Daryl's eyes were staring down at my wrist as he still held my hand in his. I froze with widened eyes and suddenly didn't know what to do, I couldn't move.

"Rose." he said softly while looking at the scar, moving to take my opposite hand to see the other. But I quickly pulled both hands away from his grasp so he couldn't get a better look.

"Damn it." I cursed silently as I pulled my sleeves back down harshly, wiping my eyes with them as I tried desperately not to look him in the eye. I didn't know what I wanted, for him to leave or stay, when all I could feel now was just utter embarrassment.

He made no sudden movements for what felt like years, until I felt his finger and thumb gripping my chin gently to lift my head to look at him. His thumb rubbed softly on my chin as I finally brought myself to look into his blue eyes.

"Talk to me." he repeated.

That's when the sudden floodgate broke loose, my tears only falling more freely than they did before. I couldn't stop them, there was just so many emotions I was feeling about everything, and I couldn't get all of it out before he came back, so now he was witnessing it firsthand. I felt mortified about crying so much lately, it seemed like all I was able to do, like it was all I was good for these days.

His hands then moved to my cheeks when it began to be too much, his thumbs gently wiping my fresh tears away. He leaned in close to place a soft kiss on my forehead, waiting patiently for me to start talking whenever I was ready. And I did.

I told him what happened with Beth and how she tried to end her life. I ranted about how I should've been there sooner and not just sitting in the tent all damn day, but I didn't know. I should've known, the feeling I had alone was a good enough reason to stay close, but I truly didn't know. Regrettably I also when on to explain my situation as well, seeing as I couldn't really avoid it because of what he barely saw through the darkness.

I told him almost every bit of the conversation I had with her, though it made me the most uncomfortable, I didn't want her to believe she was alone in this. Informing him also that seeing her like that brought back too many memories for me and that's why I had been crying in the first place...and then we sat there. There was just silence. He didn't try to talk one time. He just listened.

After seeing that I was done, not having anything else to say, he finally broke the silence, "Yer one of the greatest people to walk on this earth, ya know that?" he asked.

I was slightly taken aback at what he said, a scoff leaving my lips as I shook my head, "Believe me I'm far from that." I responded, no longer looking at him.

"Look at me." he said softly.

I slowly tore my eyes away from my hands and met his again, almost burning under his gaze. I almost couldn't believe how much I was cowering away from someone I truly trusted, but then again this conversation was one that I didn't want to be having with anyone.

"What ya did for Beth, bein there for her, that's the best thing you can do for her. And showin her she isn't alone through all this, it's amazin what ya did for her today...now about you..." he trailed off, looking back down at my hands sitting in my lap.

He then gently grabbed both of them and slowly rolled both of my sleeves all the way up to the middle of my arm. I tensed when he did this and he noticed, but yet he didn't stop. He raised my left wrist up to his lips, and began to leave soft kisses over every inch of the scar. Then moved to my right wrist and did the same exact thing, leaving goosebumps on my skin, but a warmth in my heart.

He held both of my hands tightly once he was done, looking back up at me as he spoke again, "Yer so strong, and ya never have to be ashamed of these. They're just marks on yer body to show that ya made it, even when things were really hard. I get yer ashamed of showin em, but you don't have to be. Not with me." he finished.

I stared at the man in front of me in awe. Nobody had ever spoken so beautifully about me like this before. Nobody had ever complimented the thing that I was the most insecure about. No one had ever kissed the places I had once hurt so badly. Nobody except him.

Tears built up back in my eyes, but this time for a completely different reason. I was quick to take my hands out of his, wrapping my arms around his shoulders to bring him into a hug as I felt I could finally breathe.

I heard what sounded like a sigh of relief come from him as he quickly wrapped his arms around me as well. Maybe he was worried about what he had said upset me, but it did quite the opposite. It made me relieved. Relieved that someone cared enough for me to not only see the good side of me but also the bad.

But with the way he spoke, and the way he was hugging me back so tightly, it almost made me question if he knew the feeling as well. The feeling of being ashamed or insecure because of something marking you from your past. And maybe he did. But I wasn't going to ask. I would wait until he felt comfortable enough to tell me, like he did for me just moments ago.

~ Thanks for reading!

54 notes · View notes

britany1997 · 1 year

Note

Hello friend! My birthday is on Thursday and I was wondering if it would be possible for a birthday request with me x Paul x Dwayne? Thank you so so much💛 I’ve also been loving your recent fics! Well wishes!!!

Celebration Collaboration

Hey friend! Hope you have an amazing birthday! Of course I can write this for you!!

(I usually try to post these the night before y’all’s actual birthday so you can enjoy it all day long on your birthday🥳) update: alt ending

Dwayne x Mick x Paul (she/they pronouns used)

Warnings: no actual smut but implied, spicy moments and references throughout

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

Dwayne lifted the couch in the main cave alcove and glanced under it. Nothing.

He had already tore his room apart in his search and now that he’d turned the living room upside down, he had half a mind to dig through the other boys’ rooms as well.

Luckily Dwayne abandoned the idea when he caught sight of Paul strolling into the lobby.

Paul cringed at the wreckage of their living room, “whatcha doing bud? Remodeling?” Paul asked cautiously.

Dwayne glared at him, “I got her the the perfect gift for tonight, this amazing set of watercolors and some colored pencils,” he pinched the bridge of his nose, “and I got them ages ago so I wouldn’t be shopping last minute.”

Paul beamed, “that’s great man! What’s the problem?”

Dwayne groaned, “I can’t remember where I hid them.” He sighed, “and the art store’s already closed for today, I can’t even buy new ones!”

Paul sucked in a breath, “sorry bud, that sucks. I’ll let you sign your name onto my gift though,” he proposed shooting Dwayne finger guns.

“Ok well what’d you get them?” Dwayne asked.

“Come into my office,” Paul motioned for Dwayne to follow him as he sped into his room.

Paul smirked as he bent down and dug around under his bed before pulling out a box. He opened the box and pulled out a lacy piece of lingerie by its straps. “Nice right?” Paul nudged Dwayne while wiggling his eyebrows.

Dwayne held his head in his hands and sighed. “Is that for her or is that for you?” He asked with eyebrow raised.

Paul shrugged, “I don’t see why it can’t be both.”

“No no no, you’re not doing that,” Dwayne sighed, “now we have nothing.”

“Maybe not!” Paul exclaimed, “I wrote a poem for them too!”

“Alright let me see it then,” Dwayne replied cautiously.

Paul crawled under his bed again, his tongue poking out of his mouth as he searched for the poem. Once he found it, he placed the folded piece of paper in Dwayne’s hand.

Dwayne unfolded the poem and began to read aloud. “Roses are red / violets are blue / being with you is perfect / I can’t believe my luck, / after this I’d like to take you home / for a birthday-” Dwayne crumpled up the poem, “no.”

Paul’s jaw dropped in exasperation, “this is my best stuff dude, you should have seen the six I wrote before I came up with that one.”

“Dude, why’d you even say ‘roses are red, violets are blue,’ you didn’t even rhyme it with anything.” Dwayne asked.

Paul shot him a look of disbelief, “you’re supposed to put that in every poem,” paul shook his head, “man I thought you were the smart one.”

Dwayne pinched the bridge of his nose, “oh god, what are we gonna do”

Paul’s face twisted as he thought, “I might have an idea…”

You shimmied down the ladder into the main alcove of the cave, where you were immediately pulled into a tight hug by your favorite blond vampire.

“Happy birthday baby!” Paul exclaimed as he peppered sloppy kisses all over your face.

You giggled as he pressed his lips to your lips and cheeks again and again.

Eventually he pulled away to pass you off to your other boyfriend.

“Happy birthday my love,” Dwayne said as he took your hand in his to kiss it softly, “you look amazing, you always do.”

You blushed, Dwayne always had a way of making your skin crawl in the best way possible.

“Thank you baby,” you whispered as you placed your hands on either side of his face and pulled him in for a romantic kiss.

He smiled into the kiss as his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you into his chest.

Paul cleared his throat to garner your attention.

You smirked at him, “feeling left out Paulie?” You teased.

He returned your smirk, “you know I’m happiest with my hands full babe,” he said while pulling you out of Dwayne’s arms and into his own.

Dwayne rolled his eyes but smiled at Paul’s antics. He fished around in the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a little wrapped box.

Your eyebrows raised in curiosity as you turned to face Dwayne, still wrapped in Paul’s arms, and he placed the box in your hands.

Dwayne blushed, “we um…we have something for you,” he told you nervously, “it’s not much, but we hope you like it.”

You smiled as you pulled at the ribbon holding the box together. Once unwrapped, you opened the box to reveal a handmade coupon book.

Dwayne bit his lip as he watched you flip through it.

“One coupon for a quiet night in watching movies, one coupon for a spot at the barricade at a concert of my choosing, one coupon for breakfast in bed…” you read aloud, “you guys made this? For me?”

“Yeah babe,” Paul kissed your cheek, “do you like it?”

Tears welled in the corners of your eyes, “I love it,” you assured them.

Dwayne peered at the book over your shoulder, “You can redeem them to any one of us, or both,” he explained, “like I can take you out for a joyride on my bike if you want.”

“And I can spend a quiet night in with you!” Paul chimed in, “I may have to smoke a little to calm myself down first, but I can totally do it babe.”

“This is the most thoughtful gift I’ve ever received, it’s perfect,” you told them as you pulled them into a group hug.

After you pulled away, you continued to flip through the coupons until you found one that caught your eye.

“Coupon for a threesome,” you laughed, “oh look, this one says unlimited uses.”

Paul winked at you while Dwayne held his head in his hands. “I knew I should’ve proof read the ones Paul wrote,” he groaned.

You tore the coupon from the book and handed it to Paul with a smirk on your face, “can I redeem this one now?” You asked.

Paul’s eyes widened and he threw you over his shoulder, “hell. yes.” he said, walking towards his room as Dwayne followed closely behind.

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

Taglist❤️:

@pixielostboy @riz-coolgirl @bloodywickedvamp @flower-crowned-lady @sidefanficaccounttohidemyshame @cryptic-michael

(Sorry if you wanted to be tagged in birthday requests and I didn’t tag you😖 I just wanna be super clear for these since they’re personalized. So if you wanna be tagged you in these you gotta be specific lol)

#the lost boys #paul lost boys #the lost boys fic #tlb #tlb 1987 #the lost boys 1987 #dwayne lost boys #lost boys #lost boys 1987 #Paul x reader x Dwayne #Paul x reader #Dwayne x reader #vampires #birthday requests #vampire

115 notes · View notes

yukikogazingthestars · 2 months

Text

"Will you give me the same look when the time comes?"

Mori Ougai × reader

TW:Angst/ Mention of death/ Dark Era Spoiler/ Angst with more Angst/ just a little comfort at the end

The Life of the Leader of the Port Mafia is never easy.Mori Ougai, that manipulative and calculating man is targeted by almost everyone in every way. Power, Authority, Wealth and Intelligence makes this man so intoxicating. Everything about him is so breathtaking and amazing. A former military surgeon, a former underground doctor who also worked as an information broker, the man who assassinated the tyrant former Mafia boss, the man who uses everyone for the gain…

Everything about him is so bloody and so astonishing. To be the sweetheart of this kind of man is something that someone can't even imagine,right? Even a terrifying man like him has someone who can make his life delightful and charming.In the world of bloody games, she is the healing pill of his miserable days.

“Mori san, You're making that face again~”

He was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't notice his lovely girl approaching until she whispered to him. The fruity and floral fragrance of “Miss Dior” visited his olfactory system and Mori smiled while he was hugging her waist. He absolutely loves playing with her love handle.

Y/N was a bit tickly so she couldn't help but giggle while Mori was playing with her cute love handle.

“Awww,I can do it all day long.My girl dresses so well, You wish to go somewhere today?”

“No, it's just I love showing off,”answered Y/N while she was trying to move a little since Mori’s still grabbing her waist.

Finally, Mori let her go and led her to the couch where they could sit comfortably. He didn't start the conversation, he just gazed at his S/O who was sitting beside him.

The sweet fragrance,the soft and silky hair,the glowing skin, the plump lips with cherry color,foxy eyes under them are mysteries, light make-up to show off the best figures of her face and the face which he can remember even if he goes blind, that elegant posture, that lovely body figure, everything about her is so intoxicating.She smiled and stared at him with thoses eyes filled with warmth and calm.

“Something bothers you?”

She asked while she was pushing the tea cup towards Mori.

“The way you stare at me right now,...Mori san , I know that look, you have something in your mind.Would you let it out? I am all ears if you want”

She asked again and this time she gently led Mori to put his head on her laps to relax. Mori laid and put his head on her laps and she gently brushed and massaged his scalp.

“Much better?”

“Thanks to my lovely girl…”answered Mori and his purple orbs met with his lovely girl watercolor orbs.

Her eyes may be so mysterious and even hide a malice but she always gave a warmth and comfort vibe to him whenever their eyes met.

“It’s just the Special Division “

Mori finally let his guard down, closed his eyes and started to talk about what is bothering him.She replied with a hum while she was gently touching the wrinkles under his eyes.

“They have already made a move,I doubt that there's a double agent in the Port Mafia”

“Again? That's really a troublesome case” replied Y/N while she was massaging his temples.Her gaze was softened and she looked so sad. Mori knows that she can't completely move on from the death of Oda and his Orphans since Y/N had a great relationship with them.

The only fear Mori has is that Y/N finding out the Death of Oda and his Orphans was his plan. The last thing Mori wants her to know is that he is the mastermind of that tragic event. Bringing Mimic to Japan, Giving the information about Orphans to Mimic,Putting the Special Division in the Crisis, leaving them no choice but to give him the business permit, indirectly killing Oda to get rid of Dazai.

He doesn't want her to find out. He doesn't want those eyes of her giving him a disgusting look, a hateful look.He doesn't want to lose all her caring and love for him. He sighed.

"We still don't know who …”

“Ango's betrayal….it led us to heartbrokening events. I don't want that again”

For the first time in a while, Mori felt a little guilty. But, all his doings are for the sake of the organization. He is both a slave and the leader of the organization, it's his duty to bear this sin. All his sins are forgiven by his lovely goddess. She accepted him, she granted him healing, comfort and love. But, in his deepest mind, he knows that his lovely S/O will never forgive him that one sin if she knows.

He secretly wishes that his S/O will never find out about it.

“Mori san,.....you’re losing in your thoughts again”

She gently reminded him. When his consciousness returned to her, she gently smiled and gave a warm kiss on his forehead.

She stared at him with thoses eyes filled with warmth and comfort again.

“My Dear, will you give me the same look when the time comes?"

She doesn't know what those words mean but she also doesn't try to think hard to find out too. She somehow feels a glimpse of Mori’s guilt towards her. But, she doesn't use her smart brain to see the whole picture and the whole reason as she doesn't have to hate Mori Ougai.

“Mori San, that time will never come and I will always be here with you.”

Mori was stunned by her words and His eyes widened. He saw Y/N staring at the glass window opposite of her. Her gaze was soft and somehow seemed a little sad too. Her hands on his shoulders were a little shaky. She sighed as if she was taking out all of her grief through that sigh.

“I don't want to know your guilt and your sins but I won't let you suffer alone. In order to be with you with all my heart, I mustn't know what you did.Please do not confess what you think I should not know. Please Mori san, I beg you”

Warm tears dropped onto his cheeks.Y/N was crying.She was crying with guilt and pain.

The guilt she held for her friends’ death, the guilt she held for not wanting to know the truth, the sin of being the sweetheart of the Port Mafia Boss…

Mori got up and hugged her crying form tightly.His girl hugged him back tightly.

"Please don't let me know... please"

I am so sorry….for choosing this man.I am so sorry for choosing to give him the same look he wants everyday.I am so sorry.

She silently apologized for her sin…

#bungo stray dogs #bsd x reader #mori ougai #bsd mori #bsd mori x reader #mori ougai × y/n #mori ougai × reader #bsd mori ougai #mori x reader #bsd odasaku #odasaku sakunosuke

16 notes · View notes

swanhild · 2 months

Note

Your art is freaking amazing! I am so shocked and awed every time I see it and remember that one of my mutuals is so talented and creative 💕 How did you learn? What mediums do you usually use? Semding yiu happiness today 😄

Aaah omg, thank you! What a sweet ask 😭💗 I'm blushing now, but I'm very happy to hear you like my art!💕

I've been drawing my whole life, ever since I can remember basically, and I did go to an art-focused school (for graduation, I had to paint a series of self portraits and it nearly drove me insane 😅). Then life got in the way and I didn't draw or paint as much anymore for years (and only traditional art if I did), but I've always wanted to try digital art, so getting sucked into the Silm fandom and having an urge to draw blorbos (plus some work-related stuff) finally made me buy a graphic tablet. And ever since I've just been trying to get the hang of it, watching tutorials, experimenting with different styles and ways of doing things etc. For my digital art, I use Adobe Photoshop because that's what I'm most familiar with, but I'd also like to try out Procreate one of these days (I have a friend who uses it for her art and she loves it). I use a lot of the brushes that already came with my version of Photoshop, plus a bunch of custom ones that I downloaded from all over the place, often watercolor and charcoal type brushes over solid base layers of color because I like the way they blend.

Anyway, sending lots of love and happiness back your way! And thank you again for the lovely ask, you made me smile and I needed that today! 💕

#asks #lovely people #<3

6 notes · View notes

miraculousnathmarcjulesrose · 1 year

Text

Marcaniel short story!!! MLB

I got board at 10:30 PM, so enjoy this Marcaniel story!!!

Marc and Nathaniel are in Marc's room, talking about ideas for their next comic.

"What about one that's focused around Cat Noir?" Marc suggested. "Our last one was mostly focused around Ladybug, so why not do one about him?" Nathaniel nodded.

"I like that idea." He said. "How about it's him trying to figure out his feelings for Ladybug?"

"Yeah!" Marc agreed and then got up to retrieve a notebook from his desk drawer to write down ideas. "Aw, shoot. I have no notebook paper left. My sister's going to the store today, but she's busy right now."

"It's ok, I have spare sketch paper we can use." Nathaniel said, reaching into his drawstring bag he had brought with him that had his sketch pad, a water bottle, and a few different pencils. As he pulled the sketch pad out, a piece of paper slid out and over to Marc's feet.

"Wait!" Nathaniel warned, but it was too late. Marc had picked up the paper and looked at it already. Marc studied the paper. On it was a very good, detailed drawing of him. The lines and colors were perfect, along with the color blending of what looked like watercolor pencils. On the bottom of the drawing, Nathaniel had signed his name and at the top was a short headline/title.

❤Marc❤

Could he like me back? But... I'm never that lucky, It can't be! But... This drawing...

Marc turned to Nathaniel questioningly.

"Do you... Like me...?" He asked. Nathaniel blushed and nodded. "Wow..."

"You think it's ridiculous, right? That you no longer wanna work with me cuz I like you. Or because I'm queer." Nathaniel gets up and walks toward the door.

"Wait." Marc said, grabbing Nathaniel's hand (Causing both boys to blush) to stop him from leaving. "I like you too. Ever since I met you. It's just... You're so beautiful and kind... and... your hair, your face, your lips-" He suddenly stopped, realizing what he had said. Both boys looked away from each other, red faced, hands still linked. Suddenly Nathaniel pulls Marc into him, so their faces are mere inches apart. They look into each other's eyes and Marc glances at Nath's lips then back up at his eyes.

"You're really cute." Nath says, before pulling Marc closer and kissing him. No words come from either of them for about the next five minutes.

Nathaniel and Marc pull away from each other.

"So you like me romantically? Marc asks.

"Heck, yeah."

"Do you like me sexually?" Nathaniel was a little shocked by the question. He wasn't sure if Marc was flirting or being serious, but whatever he was doing, Nath knew the honest answer.

"Yes." With that response, Marc pushes Nathaniel onto the bed that was a couple feet away. Nath doesn't resist. They start making out again, and move farther onto the bed.

Let's just say, the boys had a lot of fun that night... 😉

Thank you for reading!!! Let me know of any more MLB, ZOMS, or HSM short stories that you guys want!!!

#Marc x Nathaniel #Miraculous Ladybug #LGBTQ+#GayBoyShip #Short story #gay pride #gay love

18 notes · View notes

gilthairpins · 1 year

Text

Book 1 Chapter 11: Advise You to Cherish Your Youth

It is an April day in the world. Butterflies and swallows dance, the flowers bloom, and grass grows. The mountains and rivers are smiling and full of vitality. During this time, Beijing isn’t troubled by the sand and dust of the desert.

The sky is clear and blue, and the colors were bright and pure- translucent, like a fresh watercolor painting. The winds swirls and you can hear the laughter of leaves playing in the forest. The leaves are growing green in the sun, this lightens the heart and brightens the gaze.

This is the season of lilacs, branches covered thickly with purple blossoms. The fragrance is far traveled. They are good for many things: seasoning vegetables, bathing, moisturizing skin, and relieving itch. I picked lilacs to dry, but they are small. You have to pick the ones in full bloom, not half or partially bloomed. I have already picked through them and my basket is only half full.

My back is sore from standing and there are fine beads of sweat on my forehead. I was wiping my face when Tenth and Fourteenth show up with smiles. I quickly bow in greeting and they notice my basket.

“Why do you have to do these jobs all by yourself? The eunuchs can’t do it?” Tenth asked, his face red.

I laughed and answered, “Let them do it? They don’t even know whether the flowers are good or not, they would stuff all in a basket. I don’t trust them.”

“You have so many tricks.” Fourteenth sighed and smiled. I smiled back but didn’t reply.

When I saw they had no intention of leaving, I asked, “Are you both so free today? Did you want to watch me pick flowers?”

“We were thinking about it. I had come specifically to find you. Yutan had said you were out picking lilacs, and here there are lilacs.” Tenth said.

Fourteenth looked at the blooms behind me. “These lilacs were planted by hand by Empress Wen of Xiaozhuang.” I couldn’t help turning to look at the flowers. “Ah.” Da Yu’er! I couldn’t help feeling desolate. She was a legendary woman from the grasslands!

‘Lilac still laughs in the breeze, but her human face has disappeared with the wind.’

Focusing my attention again, I asked, “Looking especially for me? Why?”

“Was I right? She has forgotten again.” Fourteenth glanced over at Tenth.

Tenth nodded, “She remembers everyone else’s birthdays clearly except for her own.”

After hearing this I suddenly recalled my birthday was in three days. Martai Ruoxi’s 18th birthday and Zhang Xiao’s 30th birthday. Coincidentally we shared the same birthdate. Maybe that coincidence is why I am here.

Feeling old for a moment I couldn’t help but retort, “Which girl patiently remembers her own life? Remind yourself to grow older every year!”

“Listen, it’s our fault.” Fourteenth grinned at Tenth.

“Don’t worry about if you’re old or not. Do you have any special requests? What would you like?” Tenth also grinned.

“Just buy me small things like last year.” “I didn’t pass by last year, but this year I will send something special.” Tenth said.

“What I really want, but can’t get- just buy me some fresh ones outside the palace. Fun stuff will do.” I said casually.

Tenth and Fourteenth exchanged a look. “We’ll see if it can be done.” Fourteenth said seriously. Tenth watched me eagerly.

I turned my head thoughtfully. Although I could see my sister every year and at every festival, I haven’t been able to talk to her in private since entering the palace. If she could accompany me on my birthday, that would be the best present. But palace rules are strict. How could we get together so casually when there are others here who cannot speak with family members outside? I am already very lucky. Besides, Eighth rarely walks in the palace, especially after the incident with the crown prince. How could I speak to him about my own selfish wish?

“It’s just a birthday. You can give it away for fun.” I finally said.

Tenth and Fourteenth fell silent. Finally Fourteenth said, “You have been in the palace a long time and learned to be cautious in your speech. There is no more the coolness of the year.”

I thought to myself, ‘Where is the imperial palace? No matter how rough the person, once you enter the palace you have to become cautious.’ I didn’t want to explain myself to them and said in a serious tone, “What is so important about birthdays? The most important thing is that you are well. That we are all well.”

Fourteenth watched me silently. Tenth also seemed to recall the turmoil of the past year and stood to the side, thoughtful.

Although I had seen them twice since the recent incidents, they both pretended like nothing had happened. They acted as usual and never brought it up. I didn’t want to stir things up.

I quickly drove the sadness away from my heart. Smiling I said, “If you don’t leave, I will ignore you! I still have to pick blossoms. I have to do it on my off time or I will miss them and have to wait again until next year.”

“Let’s go. I won’t waste your time.” Tenth said with a laugh. Fourteenth was taken aback by this and stared at us for a long time. Both Tenth and I were confused.

Tenth patted Fourteenth’s shoulder. “Fourteenth, what are you thinking about?”

“Nothing. I was thinking about a poem I remembered.” He smiled at Tenth. “You’re always afraid that others will not know what you have read. All your books… after reading what are you thinking about?” Tenth laughed.

Fourteenth looked at me and slowly recited, “I advise you not to cherish the golden threaded clothes, and I advise you to cherish the youth; the flowers can be broken when they bloom and branches will be broken when there are no flowers.”

I smiled and didn’t reply. I leaned over them and began picking flowers again, ignoring them. Tenth sighed after a moment watching me.

After they had left, my smile vanished, leaving a bitter taste. I had already passed marriageable age- whether here or in modern times. I still hoped there would be someone who was willing to entrust his true feelings to me and peal back the layers of my protection, to be my love interest. I asked God, where was he?

Even though I have been hurt in the past, I buried that hurt in the deepest part of my heart. I don’t want to be a legend. I want to be an ordinary woman.

Looking at the face in the mirror my fingers lightly trace my face. My skin fair and smooth, lips rouged and rosy, eyes crystal clear: this was still a young face, but my heart felt old and desolate.

I wasn’t supposed to be on duty today. How should I celebrate my birthday. When I was in Beijing, my mother would make me a cake every year. And when I was in Shenzhen she would ask my brother to order one online to express love and blessings for the coming year.

It’s been four years now and all hopes of going back have disappeared. It seems in this life, I can only be Martai Ruoxi. I lie on the table not wanting to think about it any more.

Suddenly I was seized with an uncontrollable sadness; thinking about my mother and her giving birth to me. I couldn’t help it. Feeling restless, I got up and took a book from a shelf.

Leaning back in my seat, I found I had grabbed a book of Tang poetry. I didn’t care. I flipped open to a page that had Meng’s poem ‘Wandering Zi Yin in the suburbs’ I threw the book down on the table with a snap, but the poem still ran through my head.

Mother hand line, wandering clothing. Departure thick seam, meaning fear of delay in return. Whoever says the grass-inch heart will get three Chunhui

I flopped on the couch with a sigh and closed my eyes. Just as my depression hit, there was a knock on the door. I quickly sat up and straightened my clothes. “Come in!”

An unfamiliar palace maid entered with a smile on her face. I watched her as she greeted me and she said, “Ms Ruoxi is auspicious. This servant, Caixia, is a maid to a good master. My master had seen a handkerchief with a unique pattern of yours and has invited you to assist with some designs.”

After a long moment I agreed. She led the way to Concubine Liang’s palace. I had only met her several times previously and not since I had entered the palace. She is Eighth’s mother in law and thereby related to my sister, but she has always been indifferent to me. I normally greet and salute according to the rules.

In the past four years my attitude has completely changed from being suspicious and indifferent to kind and amiable. Amongst the others serving Kangxi, I am the most trusted, besides Li Dequan. Even during the abolishment of the crown prince, when everyone thought I might be implicated because of Bei’le’s household, Kangxi still treated me the same. And the people in the palace were even more interested.

Caixia held open the curtain and motioned for me to enter, “Please go in by yourself, young miss.” On the other side, Caiqin, the head palace maid, parted the interior curtain.

I took a few steps inside and smiled. “I’m sorry to trouble my sister.” Caiqin returned my salute with a smile of her own and motioned me further in. I found Concubine Liang lounging on a couch and my sister, in palace attire, seated below her. My heart warmed as I quickly greeted them. “Concubine Liang is auspicious. Fujin is auspicious.”

Concubine Liang waved her hand allowing me to straighten up. “I’ve seen some of your flower designs and sent someone to ask you to paint some for me.”

“It is this servant’s honor to paint for my lady.”

She had her maid move an embroidery pier and gave me a seat beside her. I quickly declined causing her to ask if I would rather stand and paint.

Aside from Concubine Liang and my sister, only Caiqin was in the room, guarding the door. I sat down and smiled at my sister.

Concubine Liang glanced at us. “Ruolan rarely enters the palace. What a coincidence that you two should meet.” Caiqin arraigned paper, paints, and brushes for us. And Concubine Liang stood.

“Ruoxi, you can draw here. Ruolan, you can advise her on what style and my preferences.” We quickly stood and listened respectfully. She then went into the main hall with her colorful zither.

My sister came over and lightly touched my face. “It’s your fault again. Two days ago the master sent someone to have me come visit and pay my respects to my mother. I was confused since I had been in recently for New Years. But when I thought about it, I remembered it was your birthday and knew I would definitely see you.”

“Don’t tell me, you didn’t want to see me?” I asked coquettishly. She didn’t answer but hugged me. We snuggled together a moment before I got up and took her hand. I had her sit next to me as I picked up a brush and asked her, “What flowers does Madam like?”

“The color is light and elegant.”

I thought about it and nodded. I started drawing pear blossoms. I painted a few blossoms densely packed, no leaves.

My sister watched me draw, quietly. Once I had finished she said, “You’ve learned a lot in the palace these last few years. At first I had thought this was just an excuse. I hadn’t expected you to draw so beautifully. It makes one want to see them too.”

I had put my brush down with a smile. “That’s not how much I want, it’s how much I have. I’ll have someone bring it to you once I have finished the drawing.”

I learned to draw while young, not too good, but enough to draw something. There is no real entertainment items in the palace so I had to work hard on this. So I have become more refined. My sister smiled and didn’t answer me.

We sat side by side and my heart was full of joy. It was like when I was back at Bei’le manor. Those first few days I didn’t have anything to pass the time, so boring. In time, the most important thing every day was how to play. I leaned against my sister, a smile tugging the corner of my mouth.

Singing, fighting, bickering with old Ten, being teased by Fourteenth, kicking the shuttle cock with the maids. These scenes flashed by as if they were only yesterday. But it has been four years. Turns out my happiest days were ones spent in Bei’le’s manor.

After a while, my sister said softly, “Already eighteen. You’ve been with Royal Father for four years. What are your plans?” I said um as she straightened and looked into my face. “Do you have anyone in your heart?”

This sister! She really was like a mother. A few years ago I was afraid of falling in love early and later worried about not having a boyfriend yet. I was both uncomfortable and touched, but didn’t change my expression.

“Didn’t sister tell me a few years ago not to think about such things?”

“A few years ago you were to enter the palace. Who knew then whether Royal Father would have picked you or given you to some son of a noble family. So why bother then? But now, you’re someone that Royal Father values and you’re so old now. You can speak for yourself in front of him. You need to make plans for yourself. You cannot be a maid forever.”

I just smiled and didn’t respond.

She picked up my hand and saw the bracelet on my wrist. “You still have it on!” I nervously removed my hand from her grasp. She didn’t care and said, “If you really still care about Thirteenth, the let him ask Royal Father for you. But I still think Tenth still cares for you. It would be okay for him, but I’d be worried about Tenth Fujin…” She paused and then continued, “You’re temper may still get the best of you. She may try to take advantage of that. That’s not too bad.”

I listened and thought that for a man and a woman living under one roof, how much love is needed to support a lifetime of intrigue?

“I think Fourteenth treats you well.” Elder sister said after a long pause.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “So well? Is there more?” This was supposed to be a joke, but my sister stared at me with a serious expression. “My father is also very good to you.” [possible reference to Kangxi] My smile froze and I turned my head to force myself to relax my face. “Go ahead and say it again. Almost all my elder brothers are good to me. I didn’t know when I had become a favorite sister.”

“All of those people are married except you, Thirteenth and Fourteenth.And you have played with them and know their temperament and nature. In my opinion, marrying them is better than marrying someone you don’t know.” She smiled at me.

When I didn’t reply, she asked “What kind of person do you want Ruoxi?”

“If I marry, I want someone who will treat me wholeheartedly. You understand sister.” I said quietly.

She fell silent and I watched her. She may not have cared for Eighth so I asked softly, “Let’s not talk about me. How have you been these last four years? Even though we have seen each other, we haven’t been able to talk, this is quite the opportunity.”

Sister stared at the pear blossoms and said lightly, “Nothing has changed much, still the same.”

“Why can’t you forget?” I couldn’t help but blurt out.

She stiffened. “Even if I want to forget, I must never forget.” “Why can’t you cherish the person in front of you?”

We stared at each other for a very long time. Eventually she smiled at me again, but sadly and turned her head. “I don’t hate him. But I cannot forgive him either. If it wasn’t for me… if he hadn’t inquired… then… how could…how could he have died?” Her voice cracked and trembled.

“But he didn’t mean for that to happen.” It was a weak argument.

She refused to engage. My heart was heavy. Their relationship was a mess and I just couldn’t figure it out.

We all have our own obsessions that we would rather guard alone rather than letting them go, even at the price of loneliness. I watched her for a while before picking my brush up again. I quietly drew photinia argentina in full bloom. [may not be an actual plant- the ones I’ve located have a slightly different name and can be either a tree or bush with red blooms] Once I had finished, I felt the sadness lift. I had vented my heart.

As soon as the ink had dried Caiqin came in to ask, “Is the painting finished, Miss?” I had smiled and handed her the finished work and headed into the main hall with my sister.

Concubine Liang looked at the pattern. “It’s rare to see people embroider pear blossoms on silk.”

I quickly explained, “It’s from Qiu Chuji’s No Worldly Thoughts and Nian Lingxu Palace Pear Blossom. ‘I don’t dare to be a natural beauty, a noble spirit.’”

She looked at the next drawing. “What kind of flower is this? I have never seen it before.”

When I came to my senses, I was screaming in my heart. Not good! At the time I was thinking of the flower language heather being loneliness and drew it in a moment of agitation. I had forgotten that it grows in the Scottish wilderness! I hadn’t thought about the flowers that grew exclusively in China. After a moment I responded to her, “This is a kind of Rhododendron.” Heather is part of the rhododendronaceae. “I happened to see it once, on the way to Beijing.”

Concubine Liang nodded looking at me. “You have the charm of being independent of the world. You really are a person with seven apertures and an exquisite heart.” She noticed my bracelet and startled. I subconsciously tried to hide my hand in panic, but her face returned to normal. She had Ciaqin put away the paintings and ordered her embroidery accordingly.

My sister and I exchanged smiles. I had gotten what I wanted so I bowed and left.

Unintentionally while walking, I ended up in front of the Hall of Supreme Harmony. I hid in a corner and watched the hall from afar. I wasn’t sure how long I stood there, but eventually court was over. Officials big and small came out, one after another.

I saw a familiar figure in court attire slowly exit. He appeared to have lost weight but his demeanor was still graceful and elegant. I couldn’t see his face clearly from this distance, but I swear I felt the smile that didn’t quit reach his eyes.

My mind blanked as I watched him cross the square in front of the hall. Although there were plenty of other officials, it felt like he was all alone. Though the sun shone down, it couldn’t enter his heart. Just like the heather on the Scottish wilderness: the surface is gorgeous, but cannot conceal the lonely soul.

He suddenly stopped and turned his head in my direction. I quickly backed up, hiding on the other side of the wall. My heart was pounding. After several moments I peeked out again and saw his retreating back. He moved further away and slowly disappeared out of the gate.

I couldn’t help but trot along the white marble corridor. The standing eunuchs and guards were a bit surprised to see me, but they recognized me on sight. I thought how the Qing Dynasty stipulated that ministers of civil and military affairs would go out the left door of the Meridian Gate and clan members and princes exit to the right. I ran along a shortcut to a high place with pillars and watched as the royal clan members and the brothers exited off the right.

I saw him from the back laughing and chatting with those around him. Gradually he arrived at the Meridian Gate where he paused and turned to look in the direction I was hiding in. I froze behind the pillar.

After a while, I poked my head out, but there was no one there. Only the afternoon sun reflecting light off the white stones. It hurt my eyes when I stared down there. I leaned against the pillar and slid down it, sitting on the ground.

I had lamented that my sister couldn’t give up her obsession, refusing to let go. Why couldn’t I? If I hadn’t kept in mind the final outcome of history and been braver would that have been any better? Wouldn’t it be better if I had shared a husband with other women? Wouldn’t it be better if I were simple and simply believed that he was the only one who loved me? If I hadn’t been so introverted and asked less, I would have accepted it.

A eunuch had walked past me and scrambled back to greet me properly. I quickly had him get up. I got up, collecting my thoughts and returned to my hall.

As I was returning I caught sight of Fourteenth. I hurried my pace and called out to him. He turned and saw me and slowed his steps. “Shou Xing, where did you come from?”

“Where are you going?” I didn’t respond to him, but asked back.

“After court I went to greet my mother and was going to go see you.” He said with a smile.

“Why didn’t you spend more time with your mother?”

When he didn’t reply, I couldn’t help but think it was difficult to answer. After a while he said, “I won’t hide it from you. Fourth and Thirteenth were also there, so I didn’t stay there long.”

I thought about this as we walked to my courtyard. Once there I said, “Wait, I’ll move a small table and make you some tea.”

He followed after me to help move the table, but I quickly shoo’d him out. “It’s fine if you are seen drinking tea. If you are seen moving furniture then it’s a big deal!” He had no choice but to go out and wait.

I placed the table with two chairs under the sweet-scented osmanthus tree. I used a purple sand tea set and placed a small burner stove next to the table to boil the water. I decided to leave the doors to the gate open.

While I was fanning the the stove with a cattail fan, Fourteenth was playing with the tea set.

“This was the set you asked me to find two years ago. You asked me to help you find it. I had entrusted someone to head south to Fujian. Things were definitely different in the south. The tea cups are so small, it only takes one mouthful and the teapot is about the same size as the sancai bowls commonly used in the palace.”

I smiled. “Yes, people in Fujian and Guangdong love to drink gongfu tea. They want to sip it slowly in those small cups. They spend a lot of effort so it is called gongfu tea.”

Seeing the water boil, I quickly removed the pot and heated the teapot, added tea leaves and poured water until it overflowed. The first round of tea was to wash the cups. The second round was for drinking.

First Guan Gong patrolled the city and then Han Xin ordered the troops.

After that, I made a gesture of invitation. Fourteenth smiled and picked up a cup and took a small sip of tea. I sipped it quietly and then took a big gulp. “It’s really bitter.”

I picked up another glass and drank it slowly. “This is Dahongpao, you usually drink green tea. This should taste lighter.”

He smiled and picked up another glass and drank.

“Are you annoyed with Fourth because of what happened last time?” I asked.

Fourteenth looked at the cup in his hand. “It’s not annoyance, but a chill. At that time Royal Father had a saber pointed at me and the person who rushed up to hug on Royal Father was Fifth. Fifth who doesn’t usually associate with any of us. But just like that, he was begging Royal Father to spare me.”

He paused to drink. “Fourth is my real brother [they share a same mother]. Although I have always played with Mynah when I was younger and I wasn’t as close to him. He…but he…” He trailed off abruptly not wanting to continue. After a moment he continued. “Mynah was named Bei’le together with him back then and now he is a prince. No one could do better than him in seeking advantages and avoiding disadvantages.”

“But I had heard that Fourth had also knelt and begged for mercy.” I said.

Fourteenth shook his head. “Which of my brothers didn’t kneel later?”

I didn’t know what to say. They were two very different people. They didn’t get to grow up together. Fourth was raised by Empress Xiaocheng and Concubine De raised Fourteenth personally and so would naturally favor him. Plus the secret love from the 42nd year of Kangxi to the present in the fight for the crown prince position- Fourth has always favored the crown prince [Second], and Fourteenth has always followed Eighth in planning to abolish the crown prince. They could only drift further apart. In the future they would go head to head for the throne. I couldn’t help but sigh.

I made another pot of tea and raised my cup to him. “I saw my sister today and I got to talk to you for a long while. So I offer a toast with tea instead of wine. Thank you.”

“It’s my turn to pay respects to the birthday star.” He smiled. “But really, I am not the one you should be thanking.”

I watched him silently. Fourteenth sighed and asked, “Ruoxi, what are you thinking of in your heart? Hasn’t Mynah done much for you these past few years? My family Aisin Gioro has always been infatuated, and Mynah is like this now.”

I was taken aback and sighed in my heart. Eighth is not Dorgon or Shunzhi that they gave up a country for a beauty could he?

“Before you entered the palace, Eighth had me ask my mother to try and exclude you from the list and have you serve in her palace. He was limited by his status and had to do this secretly. I don’t expect to take credit for this. Fourth also begged mother for Thirteenth. It was rare for both of us to agree on something so mother readily agreed.” He snorted coldly.

“Then why did Concubine Hui want me?” I couldn’t help but ask.

“I thought you really didn’t intend to ask these things in your life.” I just smiled at him.

“It was Tenth. It was most likely the idea of Eight and Tenth as they didn’t want you to be chosen by Royal Father. But this was a blessing in disguise. Concubine Hui asked for you. It asked mother a lot of time. I just didn’t expect that you would have ended up serving Royal Father because of that.”

It was only then that I understood. When Fourteenth saw the clarity breaking on my face he couldn’t help but laugh at me.

“You don’t know this, but when Mynah heard you were to serve the emperor, he was so angry! He hadn’t gone to visit Fujin for half a year. I was also afraid I wouldn’t have been able to control my temper. It didn’t get better until I had seen how Royal Father didn’t care for you at all and you were so cautious.”

I stayed silent a moment. “Is that why Concubine Hui didn’t feel sorry for me? Was that also related to Eighth?”

Fourteenth nodded, “Eighth was raised by Concubine Hui for a while. It wasn’t that difficult to ask for mercy, besides…” He frowned and stopped. I knew it was because later he gave up his bid for the throne and decided to throw his support behind Eighth in the fight against the crown prince. Naturally there would be no embarrassment. Then I thought about the current situation and what he had dealt with in the imperial court. What was said above, “My son is willing to help Eighth wholeheartedly,” I couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable.

We sat in silence. He took another cup of tea. I quickly said, “The tea is cool. Let me make another pot.” While talking I poured another pot.

Fourteenth watched my movements. “Ruoxi, do you have Mynah in your heart?”

I quietly poured the tea and finished the cup. Because it was the fourth pour, it was weak and bitter. After a long while, I hardened my heart. I wanted to say no, but what came out somehow became, “I don’t know.”

When Fourteenth heard this, he jumped up suddenly, angry. “You still don’t know? Over the years, Mynah has secretly arraigned for you in the palace, afraid you would be wronged. So many things! Or did you really think things would be so smooth? I won’t bother explaining this to you in detail. But think about it. Mynah has been surrounded by Di Fujin, your sister, and two concubines serving him. Which brother has such a one? I have only have four now. I have a Fujin and a concubine. Thirteenth has three fujins. Tenth also took in two concubines in the past two years. Do you know the men of the Forbidden City say that Eighth doesn’t marry in due to a fierce wife? But is Eighth such a person? Could our brothers follow a person afraid of women?” As he spoke he ran out of breath. He took a deep breath. “Martai Ruoxi, what exactly do you want?”

I faced the gate, staring out. Hearing Fourteenth made me feel miserable. What do I want? Even if I told you, would you understand? Could he give it?

Suddenly Fourth and Thirteenth were looking in, not so far away. They had heard Fourteenth’s question to me ‘Martai Ruoxi, what exactly do you want?’

Fourth and Thirteenth listened intently and paused. I got up quickly and said to him, “Fourth and Thirteenth are here.”

He glanced coldly over his shoulder. “No wonder you don’t know how to finish speaking. You just wipe it off.” He flung his sleeves and got up to leave. He didn’t pay any attention to Fourth or Thirteenth, just walked past them with a quick glance back over his shoulder.

They looked at each other and stopped. Thirteenth called out to Fourteenth. “Fourteenth brother!” But he pretended not to hear and hurried away.

I greeted them.

Thirteenth looked at the tea set on the table and glanced about the yard. He put a wooden box on the table and sat down. “We also came to drink tea with the birthday star.”

I had no choice but to smile wryly and asked Fourth to sit. I squatted down to pour the remaining tea in the pot and scaled the cups in boiling water, added new leaves and brewed another pot.

After pouring out the tea I straightened and said, “Fourth, Thirteenth, please drink.”

Thirteenth watched me with a smile but didn’t drink. “You find a chair and sit with us.”

“I dare not.” I said respectfully.

Thirteenth got up abruptly. Before he could speak, Fourth stood up. “She is too reserved as I am here. I’ll go first.”

He was about to leave when Thirteenth caught him, and shot me a lazy smile. “I want you to sit today.” He went and retrieved another stool.

I didn’t want to refute him as he came especially to celebrate my birthday. But I also couldn’t let him give up his seat. Unhappily I bowed to Fourth. “Thank you my lord for my seat.” Once I sat down, Thirteenth picked up his cup and took a slow sip.

“The Dahongpao on the rock wall of the anime Dragons in Wuyi Mountain has always been a tribute for generations. The output is small. The highest year was only seven or eight currency.” He opened his eye and looked at me. “No wonder Fourteenth was drinking tea here. It’s really good tea! Royal Father really treats you very well. Even the tea leaves he awards are top quality.”

He looked at the tea set. “You really put a lot of thought and effort into this. Even the tea sets used by Fujian and Guangdong people have been collected. But to drink Dahongpao tea you really need to follow the formula of gongfu tea in a small pot, a small cup and drink slowly. Only then can you really taste the charm of the top rock tea.”

I saw that he knew the good and smiled knowingly.

Drinking another cup, Thirteenth had put his cup down and asked tentatively, “Martai Ruoxi, what exactly do you want?”

Fourteenth had asked this question in anger, but Thirteenth asked softly, which was quite funny to me. I couldn’t help but smile, even though I felt bitter. “I want a birthday present.” I reached out towards him, glancing at the wooden box.

“You’ve drunk my tea and gift me woolen cloth?”

“No.” He smiled and reached out to smack my hands.

“No? How dare you come to ask for tea?” I moved my hands back as he ignored me.

I was silent for a bit and looked at him. “Thank you.”

“You have a lot to thank me for, but I don’t know what to do today. What was the reason for the thanks?” He was taken aback.

I pouted. “For recommending me to Concubine De.”

He glanced over to Fourth and smiled. “Then you should thank Fourth. I wasn’t the one who spoke.”

I stood and turned to Fourth. “Thank you, my lord.”

Fourth looked indifferent, only asking me to get up. Thirteenth was stunned speechless as I was unexpectedly so solemn. I sat back down staring at Thirteenth.

“It’s because of you that the prince [referring to Fourth] spoke for me, so I still have to thank you.” I lifted my teacup to him. He smiled as I served the tea.

“It’s okay if I don’t help you speak. You even said ‘I would rather be broken than broken’ I can’t just watch it.” He smiled slightly.

I recalled what had happened. While I was waiting on the selection, when I had first entered the palace, Thirteenth had come and asked what would happen if I had been favored by the emperor. I had said ‘It is better to have broken pieces of jade than to have everything broken.’ Thinking about this warmed my heart.

We exchanged smiles and laughed. We both toasted each other, touching glasses and gulping tea.

I sighed. It’s not about personal relationships, but they do treat me like this. Back then, he didn’t have much influence, but he didn’t hesitate to ask the only reliable person he knew to help for me. It is enough to have such confidant in this life!

Fourth watched our exchange with a trace of amusement. I went to make another pot of tea when I caught sight of Yutan just outside the courtyard. She had paused in surprise when she saw who was there.

I placed the kettle on the small stove and looked at her. She quickly stepped in and bowed in greeting to Fourth and Thirteenth. Fourth waved her up. “Get up.” I saw she was still at a loss for what to do, so I said, “You can go in and rest first.” Yutan turned quickly and curtsied. She hurried into the back room.

Fourth and Thirteenth got up. Thirteenth smiled at me, “After drinking tea, we will leave.” He picked up the box on the table and handed it to me.

I held it and smiled in thanks. He returned my smile and glanced back at Fourth. “Fourth asked Li Wei to bring this back while he was on a business trip to the northwest. I also had gotten a share. I didn’t want to give it away and decided to give this to you too.”

I glanced over at Fourth and wanted to say ‘thank you’ but nothing came out when I tried to speak. Instead I ended up nodding. Thirteenth laughed and followed Fourth out of the courtyard.

I stood there a long while after, holding the box. It was quite ordinary. Peach wood with no carving or inlay. I looked it over and then opened it. Inside lay three glass bottles, all different colors. While quite common in modern day, they were an extraordinary achievement in this era.

Unable to suppress my excitement, I sat down and uncorked the white bottle to sniff. I was surprised. The first one held Yili’s gum. I quickly opened the red bottle. It held juice of Hinaiguli. [unclear, unable to find source of what this is] Opening the black bottle last, I had guessed it held Ottoman’s juice, and couldn’t help but smelling it. It smelled good! [possible fruit syrup- such as pomegranate] My mood fluctuated from joy to sadness after seeing these items again after so long. These were from my childhood. From the moment Uyghur girls are born, their mothers paint their eyebrows with Ottoman’s juice to give them crescent-like black brows. And Hinaiguli was a favorite of young girls. It is wrapped on the nails and removed after a few days to reveal pretty red nails. Yili is indispensable when dealing with our pigtails. When I was younger, styling gel was a rare thing. The gum was used in our braids and they stayed neat and beautiful even after twirling and jumping.

I stared at these bottles, my emotions in turmoil. When I thought about it, Fourth had put a lot of thought into this gift. Martai Ruoxi had grown up on the northwest border. He couldn’t have known how nostalgic they would make me. They are not very expensive, but these items have come thousands of miles for this kind thought. After a while I returned the bottles to the box and put them away in my room.

After putting them away I set to work putting away the table and stools. Yutan came out to help me. By now she was able to calm down and since we were both composed there really wasn’t much to talk about.

During dinner I said to Yutan, “Today is my eighteenth birthday. Thirteenth had stopped by with a small gadget.” She smiled and squeezed my hand.

“My sister and I really are destined! I didn’t expect us to share the same birthday. Congratulations to my sister on her birthday!” She bowed and smiled.

“What a coincidence!” I laughed.

After we ate, I wanted to go out and walk. Yutan agreed as she felt she had ate a bit too much. Together we went out to walk off our dinner. Because it was the end of the month there was only a waning moon hanging in the sky, but the light was very clear. Yutan and I shared a flower brush and Liu Di followed along quietly.

“Yutan, what are you thinking about?” I had asked after a while.

“I was thinking about my mother and my siblings.” She replied softly.

“No wonder you are so prudent. You are the eldest daughter in your family.” Back then, she had always been more mature than other maids, with quick hands, a meticulous heart, and tight mouth in ordinary situations. She had never discussed other’s faults with the other court ladies so I had always kept her with me.

“My sister is so well respected. As a child of a poor family, without my father to head the family, I have had to step in and take care of everyone.”

I couldn’t help but glance over at her. I had always maintained the habit of not inquiring into other people’s affairs, even from modern times. So even though Yutan and I had been together for more than a year, I had only known she was Manchurian and was born in Baoyi. Although Baoyi status lowly, there was a history of dignitaries that appeared from time to time. For example: Eighth’s mother, Liangfei is Baoyi. The famous Nian Gengyao is also Yongzheng’s slave of Baoyi. Qin’s ancestors were also from Baoyi of the Han army in Zhengbai Banner.

This is the first time I am hearing about her family and realizing that she was not only humble, but very poor. Whether in modern times or in this era, the word ‘poverty’ was very far away from me. I didn’t know how to comfort her and so could only accompany her in silence.

Seeing me like this, Yutan quickly laughed and said, “Today is such a happy day for you and I ruined it by saying irrelevant things. I should be beaten.”

“Saying these things brings us closer. If you don’t mind, just treat me as your true sister.” I force a smile. Although it is difficult, she would be able to see her family when she is released from the palace. But I am afraid I will never see mine again. “I miss my parents very much.”

“Since entering the palace it is rare for families to meet up.” Yutan sighed and looked at me. “To tell the truth, I am not afraid of your anger. You are much better than us. Lord Bei’le is your brother in law, and the brothers treat you very well, everyone remembered your birthday. Who could remember a slave’s birthday?” I was speechless hearing this.

We both walked to the edge of a man made lake in a daze and stared at the moon’s reflection. I looked up to the moon in the sky and said, “We are under the same moon as our parents.”

Yutan also looked up at the moon. After a moment she said, “Sister, I want to kowtow to the moon. I should also kowtow to my parents.” I nodded. We both knelt and bowed three times.

While prostrating ourselves, there was a dense rustling sound behind us. When we turned we saw Li Dequan approaching with a lantern and ox horns followed by Kangxi. Both Yutan and I startled and quickly retreated to the side of the pathway and knelt again on the ground.

He caught sight of us and waved us up. “Get up,” he said gently. “I wanted some quiet for a while. No one is clearing the paths in front. I don’t blame you for being here.” We both kowtowed and stood up.

“What were you worshiping just now?” He asked.

I quickly replied, “These servants were thinking of their parents and how we were under the same moon together. So we worshiped the moon as though in front of our parents.”

Kangxi stared up at the moon thoughtfully. I sighed thinking I had made him feel uncomfortable. I wouldn’t have been able to make up any lies. But if I hadn’t told the truth, with Yutan here, I would be accused of deceiving the emperor. A serious crime.

After a while, Kangxi asked Li Dequan to light the path ahead with a lantern. He walked away slowly with his hands clasped behind his back. Yutan and I knelt until he had walked far off. And then we stood to return back to our courtyard.

I couldn’t help but look back. I couldn’t see the candlelight anymore. I sighed. An ordinary old man would maybe walk with his son or grandson, but this lonely old man walked accompanied by a eunuch and the dragon chair.

Just like the queen mother’s jade hairpin, with a casual stroke, he and his twenty-odd sons have been drawn at both ends of the river. [there is a separation of father and sons, the emperor will always be above and never have a normal family relationship with them]

After I had returned to my room, I rummaged through my jewelry box. Some proceeds were prepared by General Martai for Ruoxi, others were given to me by my sister over the years. They should all be of the highest quality. I eventually found a carved jasper hairpin with matching earrings. I wrapped them and went to the jade sandalwood hall.

Yutan was unloading her clothes and her hair was loose. I handed her the package with a smile. “Happy late birthday! Sister please don’t blame me.”

She was quick to say she wouldn’t dare and held her hand up in refusal.

“Since you have called me ‘sister’ how can you refuse my gift?” I said with a straight face.

She put it away without opening. “It is also your birthday and I haven’t prepared anything for you.”

I smiled and said, “I don’t know how to embroider. Please show me some patterns and when you muster up your energy, embroider some handkerchiefs for me. I just want that.” Yutan quickly agreed.

Yutan and I walked to the door, she was about to send me out when I stopped her with another smile.

“The door is just next door, do you want to sit in my room a while? I’m going to rest.”

She just watched me return, standing still.

0 notes

littlewalken · 2 years

Text

Sep 5

20 pages to go with the retyping, could be finished today. Keep in mind I'm trimming and condensing at this stage.

Taking some serious thought time now if I really do want to even bother doing color pencil comparison videos. Plenty of people already do them.

Hear me out, and this has to do with why I closed down my doll comparison website too.

Started with a D, had naked dolls posing, a lot of people liked to image link to it. Had someone claiming my Phantom of the Paradise (with my Sears dollhouse clearly behind him) was theirs and I changed that image to cop dolls calling him a thief.

If you are running a doll comparison site I still have all the old photos and would let you have and post them.

Again it was something else other people got in to doing, and better in many cases, and like I'm thinking with the pencils, I'm never gonna keep/catch up.

I am quite certain that of all my dolls on that site the non Mattel ones still being made exactly the same can be counted on one had.

Somewhere between having dolls I was making pattern books for be discontinued just as I published and deciding if I wanted to wait for a delayed doll again, you're not a Big Chief Dr Elebenty get over your plastic self, it wasn't fun. And I had to put them somewhere when I got them.

So I stopped.

With the colored pencils most of them I bought because I wanted them, like I wanted an oil set or skin tone set, and not many fell in to the 'I don't have that brand' because I still had standards. A few were curious about the line. I have no idea in hell how I got the SoHo ones. The one set was because I had their watercolor pencils. Some were will this work, nope, better get a different one.

And there was that girl who sold me a shit load of Derwent pencils for $20 I don't care why but I did sent her some pics of my art so she knows they will be used for pure ebil. Heh heh heh.

So I need to ask myself then if you don't like working with those pencils why not just get rid of them, by which I mean put them aside until I find a home that needs them, and concentrate on using the ones you like and making art the thing you do so you don't kill people.

I was sitting there looking at the Castle Art stuff, took a bath and began to think why do I even want those, and didn't get them.

Like looking up the reviews of the 520 color set. There's enough reviews out there to tell me I don't need them and have to make a review because no one else it. Their reviews tell me all I need to know. Looking at the comments it's a Pandora's art box.

Art Gear Guide guy there is a difference with some (amount of) oil (in their blends) pencils Irojitan and Derwent Colourfast behave differently than Luminance. It's a transparency and layering thing troost meh.

But perhaps to satisfy that part of my brain I should do one last round, for myself, with notes on the back, for myself, of why I parted with that pencil, for myself.

If you come over with some Castle Art or a brand I don't have and let me color with them I'll give you the SoHo set.

And if the question is what artist quality set I'd recommend for general all around work? I really like the Caran d'Ache Pablo. But if you can't afford those then the Goldfaber.

1 note · View note

filmrrys · 2 years

Text

Birthdays and Flowers

Harry Styles x reader

summary: you buy harry flowers for his birthday!

warnings: fluff!!!

word count: 378

It’s Harry’s 28th birthday! You were both out in Malibu to celebrate. There was a small farmer’s market and you wanted to spoil Harry in any small possible way.

“I’m going to go see the flowers” you say as Harry is looking at all the different jams they had.

“Okay lovie” he says letting go of your waist.

You walk up to the flower post and are greeted by an old lady.

“Good afternoon” you say as she gives you a warm smile. “You’re flowers are beautiful”

“Thank you dear I arrange them myself”

“In that case will you help me pick out your best bouquet? It’s my boyfriends birthday today and I wanted to get him some”

“Oh yes dear I have this exquisite arrangement here” she walks over to her biggest and brightest. It had every shade of pink and purple surrounded by the most radiant greens and tiny white flowers to compliment the whole thing. The flowers came wrapped in brown paper with a thick white rope wrapped around it.

“How much will this one be?” you ask reaching for your purse.

“Twenty-four and i’ll also throw in this hand painted card for your boyfriend” she says handing you a small card with what looked like it was done in watercolor, a girl holding four balloons.

“That’s so kind of you. Thank you again”

You take a pen out of your purse and scribble really quickly, “I love you more than words can describe” inside of it before putting it on top of the flowers.

You make your way to your boyfriend already holding a bag of jams and tap him on the shoulder.

“What do we have here?” he says.

“Oh you know just a little something for the birthday boy who I love the most” you say handing him the bouquet trading it with the bag of jams.

“These are gorgeous… just like you y/n thank you love” he leans in to kiss you.

You laughed into the kiss. “That was so cheesy Harry”

“What can I say i’m a very cheesy man” he says holding up a bag of cheese your purchased earlier in the day.

“Happy birthday” you say to him smiling continuing to walk hand in hand down the rest of the farmers market.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #fanfic #harry x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry #styles #harry styles smut #fine line #hs1 #hslot #love on tour

139 notes · View notes

nagipops · 3 years

Note

hii I love your blogs sooo much you're really talented (I just needed to say it sorry) so straight to the point, I already made 2 requests to you and I really enjoyed your writing so I would like to make another again. As I'm clueless about what to request I'll just ask for random hcs for konoha 11, idk if it's too much but if so then you can do with Neji (I love him so much), Kakashi and Naruto. Thank you in advance and sorry anything ^^

RANDOM KONOHA 11 HEADCANONS!

FEATURING: naruto, sakura, shikamaru, ino, choji, neji, rock lee, tenten, kiba, hinata, and shino

WARNINGS: mentions alcohol, drugs, food, bugs, and the tiniest nsfw mention if you get the joke. hehe

A/N: AHHHH ANONN this seriously made my day, im so so glad you enjoy my work!! 💖

NARUTO

you know how we all have “the chair”, where we throw all of our dirty clothes onto?

yeah, imagine that, but from the seat to the fricking ceiling

its just a GINORMOUS MOUND of clothes, you wonder how he even goes through that many clothes so quickly???

definitely shoves it under his bed whenever guests come over (somehow)

holds chopsticks really weirdly. but it works.

asked tenten to put his hair into space buns to mimic his sexy jutsu and went around flirting with the village

jiraiya was so proud of him T-T

comes up with the WORST pickup lines

they’re so bad, its almost charming. almost

has gone AWOL multiple times, disappearing from everywhere, just everywhere

it scared you a little, so you searched the entire village for him

you finally found him sitting on the ledge of a cliff, gazing out at the vast sea

concerned and panicked, you cried out to ask him what was wrong

he turned to you with a crestfallen, devastated look on his face and said,

“i bought shrimp ramen instead of chicken ramen.”

you’ve never searched for him after his disappearance ever again.

SAKURA

100% makes origami shurikens and chucks them at you

they are deathly precise and deathly sharp. seriously, how are these not illegal weapons yet???

writes threatening motivational notes to herself on the mirror

“u got this!” “make sure to smack naruto today!” “ino sucks!”

her backpack would always be way too high up on her back. idk why but. it would

does her hair all nice and pretty before she goes out but once she arrives to her destination SHE KEEP. TAKING. IT OUT. and redoing it over and over and over again

like it’s impossible to make eye contact with her because she’s holding a bobby pin between her teeth while braiding her hair

her guilty pleasure would be hostess treats

ding dongs are her favorite. don’t ask me how i know, i just know.

eats the yellow starbursts just to spite naruto and all her haters

loves small lap dogs, she think’s they’re so cute and cuddly

but she especially loves chihuahuas

they’re so feisty and naruto HATES them, so of course she had to go and get one for herself

dresses the poor dog up in little bonnets and jackets and ties its tiny fuzzy hairs into pigtails

she and the chihuahua are not that much unlike <3

SHIKAMARU

this man is a god at shogi but he absolutely SUCKSSSS at cup pong.

is this an ick? idk. but he is absolute trash at this game.

it gets even worse when he’s got a couple drinks in him

tries to calculate the velocity and acceleration and angle and shit but his shot is always a good two feet off BYE 😭

just mutters an “aw, shit” before awaiting his turn again

hates checkers, loves chess

“checkers is for WUSSIES” - shikamaru nara

i said this in another post, but he is Very Good at whistling

like that’s his hidden talent

can copy any tune with the perfect pitch and rhythm

speaking of, he can do really cool tricks with his tongue

like making a four leaf clover, touching the bridge of his nose with it, flipping it upside down, you name it

he has slanted, scrawled handwriting, to the point where it’s almost illegible

wbk he cheats in school SO OFTEN. but he never gets caught. he’s not stupid, he just couldn’t care less about his classes.

thinks weed and e-cigs are stupid, cigarettes are where it’s at

you just can’t replicate the feeling of taking a drag from a cig after a long, tiring day

plus he looks hella cool while doing it B)

INO

teaches the boyz™️ how to braid their hair

like they all gather in a circle around this feisty fashionista and fail attempt to braid their hair

sakura was just fuming in the sidelines

“OI, INO-PIG, THAT’S A DUTCH BRAID, NOT A FRENCH BRAID!!”

yeah, ino 🙄

the only one that can actually do it is neji because a) this man is talented af and b) he’s got the long hairrr

ino probably envies his thick, sleek hair because hE’S a bOy

also asks everyone for their blood type and zodiac signs and tells them if they’re compatible with her or not

and definitely judges you for your sign 😣

“oh, you’re a gemini? hmm, what a shame...”

makes bouquets for her favorite people and kin assigns everyone a flower

only assigns the pretty nice ones to the people she likes (sorry sakura, you’re out of luck)

one of her favorite hobbies is crafting! she’s really good with details and small things so she loves making those miniature dollhouses and stuff

also really good at watercoloring. especially painting flowers and landscapes

also i feel like she would be really good at playing any instrument because of her skilled hands

can play a badass flute solo. period.

CHOJI

would honestly rather die than get anywhere NEAR an asparagus

he just thinks they’re so gross and bitter and NOT SALTY

he always eats his yakiniku a little bit undercooked because he’s way too impatient to wait for it to cook fully. who do you think he is??

whenever he cloud gazes with shikamaru, when asked what he thinks a cloud looks like, he just says some sort of food

“oi, choji, what does that one look like to you?”

“a... yakiniku grill... with... pineapple rings on it! ooh, and a wagyu steak right there!”

he thinks pringles are an abomination to society. where’s the crisp? where’s the grease? where’s the saltiness?!!!

asks ino to teach him how to do his hair all fancy and the two of them devote an entire day learning different hairstyles

it’s his new favorite thing to do now :D

he really likes crayons!!!!

like he’ll write with them, draw with them, color with them, do everything with them

he’s even tried to eat them. he said they tasted good.

definitely had the 128 crayon pack WITH THE BUILT-IN SHARPENER, and everyone thought he was the coolest kid in town

he ate it UP, he even scored some bbq dates with the ladies

i also feel like he loves basketball, and he has a MEAN slam dunk

like his vertical isn’t that high, but the man can REACH

he loves when people laugh at him when he challenges them to a 1v1 and then proceeds to absolutely destroy them <3

NEJI

he seems like a cucumber kind of guy.

just cucumber

like i feel like he puts it in everything; soba, salads, sandwiches, his face, yeah

it’s mellow and cool, just like him!

speaking of, i feel like he lives for spa days and facials

it just lets him be alone in his little cucumber scented world for an hour or two and he gets damn clear skin from it as well

seriously he has PERFECT skin. flawless. not a single blemish. his cheeks feel like baby butts they’re so smooth.

i feel like he’d be a god at solving rubik’s cubes, don’t ask me why

like if anyone scrambled theirs on accident they would just take it to neji and he’d solve it in the blink of an eye

CAT PERSON!!! loves the little meow meows

who are we kidding, neji basically is a cat; agile, aloof, does silly things without trying to, very cute

he just feels akin to the little fuzzballs and he thinks petting cats are extremely therapeutic. good for the soul

he is a golf man. he would take his juniors golfing and everyone thinks he’s uncool. cmon neji let them go to the skate park at least T-T

also very good at karaoke, definitely surprised everyone once he got a few drinks in him since he started serenading you

LIGHTWEIGHT!!! do not get more than one shot of alcohol in him. he will go berserk.

i also feel like he’d really love photography; not taking pictures of people, but of nature

he loves taking a quiet stroll through a pretty forest and snapping pictures of all the unique flora and fauna

it’s so serene ︶ ‿ ︶

ROCK LEE

100% milly rocks everywhere

gai got in on it too once he asked what lee was doing

“is that what all the youthful cool kids do these days!”

they also dab together. a lot

DO NOT BE SEEN WITH THESE TWO!!! you are not associated with them.

definitely is the one breakdancing in the middle of the dance circle at a high school party

he’s mad skilled at it too

headspins and windmills galore

challenged naruto to a dance-off and completely OBLITERATED him

lee then asked if naruto wanted a rematch, this time with one hand tied behind lee’s back

naruto obliged, and he STILL lost

RIP naruto and his fangirls, they all scrambled to lee afterwards T-T

i feel like his favorite subject is science

not the boring physics equations and laws and theories but the fun EXPERIMENTS

definitely has singed all of his hair off one time and he went to gai blubbering to help him grow back his precious hair

but he loves experimenting with different combinations and chemicals to get different reactions each time

created a potent love potion and carried it around with him all day one day

and it was actually working

girls were flocking to him left and right, staring at his lips and his face

he was so abashed at the sudden attention

heck, it even worked on sakura

“oi, lee-san!”

“hehe, yes, sakura-san?”

her eyes shifted downwards to his lips and his heart thumped harder

“hey... lee-san?”

“what is it?”

“you have something on your lip. we’ve been trying to tell you all day but you just winked and blew kisses at us.”

legend has it lee has still not recovered to this day.

TENTEN

has THE prettiest handwriting. and she can write SUPER fast

it’s like a superpower

like she transcribed five pages of a report in less than two minutes with perfect handwriting

naruto is so jealous.

she is also super good at origami! those diligent, accurate hands aren’t just for throwing things

taught sakura how to make shurikens but does NOT endorse any violent uses of them

she can replicate all of her weapons with paper and they can actually function, it’s so cool

made paper kunai knives one day and the wholeee village wanted to get their hands on them

i feel like she’d listen to mitski. idk i just get those vibes

LOVES BIG DOGS!! especially fluffy wuffy samoyeds

like man’s best friend?? no, GIRL’S BEST FRIEND!!

hugs and cuddles and squishes all the big dogs

she thinks small dogs are spawns of satan

sakura and her have definitely quarreled over this

but at the end of the day, all dogs are adorable fur babies, so she lets it slide :,)

KIBA

kiba always looks SO GOOD in photos you take of him, candid or not

like you could just whip out a camera and snap a photo of him at any given moment and he would look perfect

you framed a picture of him yelling at akamaru for peeing inside the house

it’s pure artwork

i feel like he tries to swagger around with his hands shoved in his pockets but it fails MISERABLY and the girls are wondering if he broke his leg or something 😭

kiba just walk normally. for the love of god please just walk normally.

he tries to slump back in his chair really low but one time he slouched way too low so he slipped off of his chair and onto the ground LMFAOOOO

he just wallowed there... in shame...

also.. he LOVES when the girls put makeup on him!!

he tries to act like he hates it. but it secretly gives him so much confidence

not to mention the girls hyping him up are a huge ego boost

okay the inside of his jacket hood is the warmest. thing. EVER!!!

seriously, no wonder this dude is so happy-go-lucky all the time, he’s living in literal heaven 24/7

it’s like you’re sleeping on a cloud inside a warm, cozy bed during a cold winter morning

10/10 would recommend letting him give you his sweatshirt when you’re chillin with a hair tie ❤️

HINATA

always smells like lavender soap. always

also has the cutest pencil pouches with little puppy faces and kawaii things

oH and she has those mini yoobi highlighters, she thinks they’re so cute (and functional!)

everyone flocks to her to try them out and marvel at the cute tiny highlighters

and they try to steal them from her but she doesn’t even stop them because she’s too timid to 😭

naruto goes BALLISTIC over them

she lets him have all of them <3

tennis girl!!! tennis girl.

all of her opponents always underestimate her because she’s so timid and shy and quiet

but she has a KILLER serve

and then she takes her opponents to the slaughterhouse with a complete shutout ;)

she’s really athletic believe it or not, she can beat most of the boys in a mile run and she has incredible endurance

i feel like she really loves velvet scrunchies

she just thinks they’re so pretty and they keep her hair soft so they’re cute and functional

also takes the PRETTIEST notes!!

color codes, dividers, headers, you name it, it’s all super readable too its insane

everyone asks her for her notes, not to study but just to appreciate the pure artwork that it is ^w^

SHINO

shino is SO easy to prank

“how do you catch an eyemaster?” *cue naruto and kiba snickering*

“eyemaster bait. that is because—”

even when everyone’s laughing their asses off, he still continues to explain his answer since he does NOT GET THE JOKE

tried his hand at writing haikus

here’s his best one so far:

“Bugs are amazing. That is because they are bugs. Bugs are very nice.” - Shino Aburame

VERY proud of it, since it took him weeks to perfect

praise it, pls

had one of those ant farms and bug-catching kits as a kid

and he would fill the kit TO THE BRIM. LIKE IT WAS HEAVY BECAUSE THERE WERE SO MANY BUGS.

he loves the little chitters of the different bugs

he had jars of different bugs all lined up on a wall shelf in his room

collects silkworms off of trees and sticks them into his pockets (no i definitely did not do this as a kid...)

HELP I FEEL LIKE he would record a timelapse of his ant farm growing and upload it to youtube with a movie maker title screen that says

“my ants”

if you enjoyed this post, likes and reblogs are much appreciated :) feel free to request here, and make sure to read the rules first! have a lovely day everyone <3

554 notes · View notes

mouthfulloftoothpasterry · 3 years

Text

Meet cute

summary: going through harry and Loralie's normal day... until Harry meets someone.

warnings/ disclaimers: none :)

“Daddy!” Harry hears, tearing his head up from his big metal desk where he was looking over his students' art work. He teaches art at a primary school and is lucky enough to work in a school that has care for younger kids, so his daughter Loralie attends the preschool there. “Darling, why are you out of class already? The first bell hasn't rung yet.” At this school they have a three bell system. The first is for kids who ride the bus home, then the ones who get picked up by a parent or walk home, and the third bell is for kids who live further out and take the bus- the buses come back from their first trip and come around for them to take them to their long trip back home. The teacher's assistant always escorts Loralie to Harry's classroom after the first bell.

“I'm done!” she says, waving a bye to the teachers assistant whale Harry thanks her. He pulls her up on a chair next to the wooden stool he was sitting in, pulling her paisley printed backpack off of her and unzipping it to look through her folder. He looks over his class (full of seven and eight year olds) making sure they are all doing what they should be- reading a library book while they wait for their number bell to ring. He looks through some of the work she had done, the two pockets sorted into one that had her work of colorings, trying to write her name, and crafts. The other pocket filled with papers her and Harry needed to study together, her ABC’s, her numbers up to ten, colors, and notes to parents.

Harry gasps dramatically, pulling his classes' attention away from their books. “You got two golden stars today?!” he asks Loralie, making her nod, giggling. In her class they have a reward system, if the teacher or teachers assistant catches them doing a good deed they will reward them with a golden star sticker to encourage them to keep doing it, all the teachers here do it with the younger kids. Today Loralie was caught helping a kid pick up his crayons and then sat with a lonely kid while they were on the story time rug- now Harry is having a total proud dad moment reading the note her teacher had written him.

Just then the bell rings, “have a good night everyone!” Harry calls out to the first-bellers. He turns back to his daughter seeing her cover her ears from the loud ring of the school bell. Harry laughs, pulling Loralie to sit on his lap, ignoring the art he was working on. “So, tell me all about your day, baby.” Harry says, one arm wrapped her back and the other pulled her backpack down and shoving her folder and lunchbox into it. Loralie babbles on about her day for a while, ignoring the other listening ears and telling her daddy everything that had happened. She goes on about story time and how they had read one fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish by dr.seuss, how they sang some songs, and how they colored until the third bell rings leaving Harry and Loralie all alone.

“We can't go home just get, baby. I've got a few things to do before we can leave.” Harry informs his daughter, pulling his earlier classes paintings off of the drying rack and stacking them so he could hand them out easier tomorrow. Loralie has no response, instead getting in Harry's big metal desk drawers and pulling out the couple of toys she kept here for times like this when Harry kept them after school a bit longer than she wanted. Harry lets Loralie help him when he puts the watercolor paints in the back storage room.

He hears feet on the steps leading to the art room making him peek his head out, reaching out for Loralie so she would grab his hand. He hears a bit of whispering, declaring it safe while he clasps his hand with Loralie and walks out. “Hi, could I help you?” Harry asks, looking at the mother and son. The woman politely smiles, her hand resting on her toddlers back- Harry knows him, he teaches the preschoolers art every Wednesday and he just had this little boy in his class today so he must be in Loralies class.

“Um, he left his folder down here today. It's got the baby shark stuff on it and it says Milo on it in gold sharpie. Mrs. Hannah had told me that it would probably be down here.” the woman says, their children apparently knowing each other because they are already talking. Harry was right, he is in Loralies class. Harry turns back to his desk with a smile on his face, “here.” he says, walking back. “I was gonna give it to Mrs. Hannah so he could get it back first thing in the morning.”

She smiles, taking it from his hands. She notes how his hands are rather large and stained in different colors of paint, even a couple of his rings have splatters of paint over them- but they all seem to be to be only for fashion not a wedding ring. “Thank you. And Mrs. Hannah told me what Loralie did today, she's such a sweetheart.” Harry furrows his eyebrows a bit, confused, “oh! Sorry, she sat with him during story time. He's kinda shy so it was really nice of her, she seems to really get him to branch out.” she looks down at her son and smiles seeing him talk to the girl.

“Oh, yeah. Thank you.” Harry smiles, finally letting go of the folder. She smiles, turning away and pulling Milo up on her hip, bidding the both of them a good bye. “Oh, I never caught your name.” Harry says, turning his chin up. She turned her head back smiling, “Y/n.” Harry smiles at her teasing tone, his cheeks turning the lightest shade of pink. “I'm Harry.”

Eventually Harry takes Loralie home, bringing them back to their small home. Harry knows its small, it got two bedrooms- one that isn't even used because Loralie sleeps in his bed with him every night (he's a single parents and he's not taking anyone home- it's just what happens), a small cramped kitchen, only one full bathroom then just a half one in the master bedroom, a normal sized living room, then a small dining room. It's not perfect but it's perfect for them, there are only two people, one man and a mini monster running around.

“Dinner then a bath, my love. You know the drill.” Harry hollers over to Loralie who is laying in the living room and playing with her stuffed animals while paw patrol plays in the background. He pushes over the markers on the table, setting down her plate waiting for her to crawl up and eat what he had prepared for her. She joins him soon, digging into the pesto pasta and fruit he prepared. “So, what was the best part of your day, baby?” Harry asks, smiling at his daughter and setting down his own plate while she sips at her sippy cup.

“Seeing daddy!” she yells, making Harry laugh. He smiles kissing her nose, “My favorite part was seeing you*, munchkin.” He smiles, making her squeal, shoving fruit in her mouth. Harry kisses her hand looking at her in adoration, he's so happy he has his little girl.

“Bubbles, daddy.” Loralie says, collecting the bubbles from her bath into her hand and blowing them. Harry nods, smiling, continuing to lather her hair. “What do you think about Milo, baby?” He asks, not being able to get his mind off of what had happened just before him and Loralie left.

Loralie looks up at him, “Milo?” She asks, her cheeks turning blush from the bath. Harry nods, giving her a warm smile while he cups his hand in front of her forehead to prevent any shampoo getting in her eyes before he starts to wash it out. “Nice.” She says, Harry nodding his head along with her.

Harry wishes he got to know Milo's mother a bit more. She seemed like someone that he would like. She was so sweet and her teasing tone made him even more attracted to her, she was gorgeous, and not to mention he didn't see a ring on her finger. Harry continues her bath, pulling her out and changing her into her pajamas. His mind wanders off a bit, thinking about the pretty woman he met today. He hopes he will see her again and little does he know she hopes she will see him again.

“Let's go to bed, baby.”

tag list: @romionefp @iaalien @hopeyoustaythenight @evanjh if you dont want to be on the tag list for this series please let me know but if you want to be on it please let me know as well !!!

327 notes · View notes

quicksilverownsmysoul · 3 years

Text

Coffee of the Week

Summary: So watched Mare of Easttown and it’s so good! And Evan peters character is so cute I just had to write something for him!! So in the second episode he said that he gets coffee every morning so I was thinking like what if he goes to the same shop everyday, cause the reader works there and he has a crush on her! But he’s too shy to admit it, but she makes the first move and he’s like a mess

Word Count: 2343

Easttown was a very small knit community, everyone knew everyone, there wasn’t a face you couldn’t recognize. So it created quite the talk when everyone heard that a new detective from out of town was coming down. You worked at the local coffee shop, there were a few others, chain stores, but most people in town preferred the comfort of your locally owned one. You had heard all about this new detective from the high school girls that came in after school. They gushed about how good looking he was, and how charming he was, even some of the older women that came in seemed to be infatuated with him.

You had yet to meet him but he was still on your mind as you drove to your shop. There wasn’t much drama in Easttown so of course a handsome detective piqued your interest. You hadn’t even turned on the lights when you saw someone standing outside the shop peering in. You gave him a curious gaze, he gave you a wide smile, waving at you.

You made your way over to the door and unlocked it, peeking your head out. It was dark out so you couldn’t really make out his features. “Sorry we don’t open until 7.”

“Aw, I was hoping to get a quick coffee before work. I heard this was the best shop in town.” You chucked at his comment.

“Okay come in, I’ll make you one real quick.”

“Really?” He asked excitedly.

“Yeah come in.” You opened the door wider and he stepped through. You made your way back over to the counter and flipped on the lights. “What do you want?”

He looked over your menu, scanning each of the drinks briefly. He glanced over at the chalk board that had coffee of the week scribbled at the top. He nodded his head towards it. “What’s the deal of the week?”

“Nothing yet, I usually come up with something around now but I had a little interruption this morning.” You joked, side eyeing him.

“Sorry.”

“I’m just messing with you.” He smiled at your words. “So what do you wanna drink this morning?” You asked again.

“Surprise me.” You laughed and rolled your eyes. You got to work and made small talk with him in between. “Haven’t seen you around here before.”

“Yeah I’m new, I came down to help Mare out with a case.”

You looked at him over your shoulder giving him a sly smirk. “Ohhh so you’re the devilishly handsome detective everyone’s been gossiping about.”

He blushed at your words, rubbing the nape of his neck in embarrassment. “Well I wouldn’t say that.”

“Oh I would.” You teased as you finished up his drink. “You’re the talk of the town. All the women are raving about you.” You popped the lid on his drink and made your way back over to the counter. You looked him over from head to toe. He was very cute, in his long blue coat, and his perfectly combed hair. “And now that I’ve finally met you I can say that I agree with them.”

He turned into a blushing mess at your words. “I-I well, thank you.” He stuttered out. You handed him his coffee, your fingers brushing against his. He took it with a gracious smile and set down his drink to take out his wallet. “What do I owe you?”

“It’s on the house.”

“No really I-“

“It’s in the house, don’t try and fight me on it you’ll never win.” You said leaning back on the counter arms crossed. He laughed, face crinkling up, dimples showing, you felt yourself turn a little red at the sight.

“Thanks.” He said making his way to the door, he looked at you, silently asking your name.

“I’m (y/n), (y/n (y/l/n).”

“Thank you (y/n).” He said gesturing towards the cup.

“I hope to see you around detective...”

“Colin, Colin Zabel.” He said, mimicking your introduction. You waved at him as he exited your shop. You suddenly had an idea for the coffee of the week.

The next day Colin was back at exactly the same time. Right when you got to work, before you even turned the lights on, and before you even opened. He watched as you moved around the shop before coming over to unlock the door for him. He smiled at you and you returned it. He looked around the shop while you finished setting up.

It was cute, very old fashioned, it had that hometown feel like everything did in Easttown. There were these watercolor paintings hanging on the walls, of flowers and landscapes. He wondered if you were the one who had painted them. He glanced back at the chalkboard and noticed there was a special written down today. It read Coffee of the Week, The Colin Zabel. He felt his face heat up at reading the name. He cleared his throat and leaned forward on the counter. “You named the coffee of the week after me?”

“Yeah.” You admitted with a soft laugh. “It’s the best selling one so far. All the women and girls that have come in have bought it and absolutely love the way it tastes.” He blushed even more at your words. But he didn’t read into what you were saying, he figured you named it after him because the coffee you had made for him was so good. It was a regular coffee, with two sugars, a splash of milk, a hazelnut creamer and a load of whip cream. You had even stirred in some honey.

While he was lost in thought you had finished up his drink and placed it in front of him. “Here you go, one Colin Zabel on the house. And a scone!”

“I can’t-” He tried protesting again.

“Yes you can.” You smiled warmly at him. “The drink you inspired has been bringing in tons of business lately.”

Colin took out his wallet anyway and placed a $20 bill into your tip jar. You went to fish it out and hand it back to him but he placed his hand over yours, stopping you. “Please take it.” He shyly smiled at you, gently removing his hand from your own. You sighed and nodded your head. His face broke out in a smile. “See you tomorrow!”

“I’m guessing you mean before I open?” He just winked at you and left.

For the rest of the day he was grinning ear to ear. When Mare came in she narrowed her eyes at his cheery demeanor. “What’s got you in such a good mood?”

“Nothing.” Colin said, trying his best to replace his smile with a serious face. Mare gestured to the coffee that was sitting on the corner of his desk along with his half eaten scone.

“Is that for me?”

“What?”

“You said you get coffee every morning and said you’d bring me one today.” Mare said as she dropped the stack of papers she was holding onto her desk.

Colin grimaced, he had totally forgotten he had promised Mare a coffee today. ‘No sorry, I forgot.”

Mare sighed. “It’s okay, you can just bring me one tomorrow.”

“Or we can go now.”

“You already have a coffee, why would we go now?”

“Cause I said I’d get you one.” He said while smiling, hoping Mare wouldn't see his hidden motive of wanting to see you again. Mare just watched him with narrowed eyes trying to figure out what he was after. “Come on.” Colin grabbed his coat that was hanging on the back chair and picked up the keys, jingling them. “I’ll drive.”

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

“You seem way too eager to be here.” Mare said suspiciously as they parked outside your coffee shop. Colin got out holding the door of your shop open for Mare. She just looked at him.

“That’s okay I’ll go in first.”

‘You do that.” Mare followed Colin into the shop. It was busy, a stark contrast to the empty place Colin was used to when he came in every morning. You were standing at the counter making orders as your employees shouted them out to you. You finished a couple and called out the names of the people who ordered them, You gave them a sweet smile and looked up to see Mare.

“Hey Lady Hawk!” She just rolled her eyes, but the small smile on her lips showed that she wasn’t annoyed with you. You made your way around the counter and over to her. “What an honor it is to have you in my humble establishment.”

“Oh shut up.” You laughed at her response. “I always come here.”

You scoffed at her blatant lie. “You never come here. You always make your own coffee.” You raised an eyebrow at her, “So why are you here?”

“He made me come.” Mare said, jutting her thumb back towards Colin. He had been awkwardly standing to the side watching you guys talk.

“Hey.”

“Hey Colin. What brings you back here?’

“Back here?” Mare said, turning to look at him. “You’ve already been here today?”

“Well yeah.” He admitted, eyes darting between your curious ones and Mare’s judgmental ones. “But I promised you a coffee.” He finished quickly with a smile.

Mare looked between you two, noticing the way that Colin nervously fiddled with the car keys. “Oh okay I get it.” She said, head slightly nodding. “I’m going to go wait in the car. I’ll take a coffee with two creams and no sugar.”

“You got it Mare.” He tossed her the keys, she caught them and was half way out the door when she stopped. She turned back to face him.

“Colin.”

“Hm?”

“Just ask her out already.”

You felt your face heat up, but it was nothing compared to Colin. His whole face was flushed red, as he tried to dismiss Mare’s comment. “I- she, um.” He let out a nervous laugh. “She’s just messing with me. A little joke between colleagues.”

“Ah okay.” You said with a little giggle. “Good to know. I’ll get Mare’s coffee, do you want anything?”

“Actually yeah I was actually wondering if you -'' You looked at him with wide eyes, he felt his heart beating out of his chest. At the last second he abandoned ship and decided against asking you out. “If I can get the special of the week. But only if I can pay for it.” You just nodded and got to work making their coffees, in no time they were done. You passed them to him and he gratefully took them. The entire time he was internally kicking himself.

“So I guess I'll be seeing you tomorrow, unless you plan on coming back again today?”

Colin let out an airy laugh. “Nope. Just the two times today for me.” He said in an embarrassed voice.

“Gotcha.”

Colin made his way back to the car and gestured for Mare to unlock the door, he handed her her coffee as he slid back into the driver's seat. ”Why do you have two coffees?” He didn’t answer as he put his seatbelt on. “Did you seriously buy another coffee? You didn't even finish the first one.”

He sighed, “I know.”

“So,” She paused, taking a sip of her coffee. “Did you ask her out?”

“No. I didn’t” He said resting his head down on the steering wheel. “I just panicked and ordered another coffee.” Mare snickered at him. She picked up his coffee cup examining it.

“Well it looks like they took the first step for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“She wrote her number on the cup.” Colin yanked the cup form Mare, sure enough there was your phone number scribbled in sharpie on the side of his cup. His face split in a wide smile. Mare watched him glance back at your number and his phone the entire ride back to the station, as if willing it to ring, even though you didn't even have his number.

It had been an hour or so since they had gotten back to the station. Mare looked at Colin over the top of her report. “You should call them.”

“I will.”

“Oh yeah, like you said you were going to ask them out.” Mare snorted from her desk.

“I never said I was going to ask them out, you said I should.” Mare just shrugged.

Colin spent the rest of the work day just staring at your number and going to pick up his phone before deciding against it and looking through more of his work papers. By the end of the day Mare had had enough. She pushed her chair over to his and yanked his phone off his desk.

“What are you doing?”

“Shhh!” She hushed him and she quickly dialed a number and pressed the phone to her ear, waiting for the ringing to stop. “Hey (Y/n). His eyes widened, he tried to get his phone back from Mare, but she just pushed off his desk and wheeled back to her desk. “Yeah, yeah I’m calling from Colin’s phone.” He quickly stood up and made his way over to her desk, she kept pushing him off as he continued to reach for the phone. “He would like to know if you would like to go out with him this weekend. Mhmmm, hm, sounds good.” Mare covered the phone. “She said yes, you can pick her up at eight Friday night.”

“Give me that!”

You did your best to hide your laughter, you could hear them quietly arguing over the phone in hushed whispers. “Hello?” You finally heard Colin’s voice, you figured he had won the phone back from Mare.

“Hey. So are we on for Friday at eight?”

“Of course.”

“Okay then, see you soon Detective.”

“Okay bye!” Colin hung up the phone and sat back in his chair, smiling up at the ceiling. Mare glanced over at him, hiding her own small smile.

“You’re welcome.” He just glared at her and she let out a laugh at his expense.

359 notes · View notes

hansoulo · 3 years

Text

whisper scarcely breathing

part four of “Pillar of Salt”

Pairing: Boba Fett/Princess!Reader (she/her pronouns, no Y/N)

Warnings: NC-17, NSFW, explicit language, mentions of canon-typical violence, fluff, hurt/comfort but without the hurt, bathing and/or being bathed, choking, female-receiving oral, loss of virginity, unprotected M/F intercourse

Word Count: 6.1k

Image Credit: (x) by @/365filmsbyauroranocte, not meant to be a representation of the reader

A/N: this one is for the boys with the boomin’ system 😩💦

༓ series masterlist ༓

The datapad that you’d left in the garden was thrust back into your possession one morning by the hurried hands of a maid. Truthfully, you had forgotten all about it. The mind, when faced with matters as pressing as the press of a mouth, tends to forget about inconsequential objects.

You’d never met the girl standing in front of you before, and she avoided your eyes while passing over the small screen. She seemed eager to be rid of it. You couldn’t say you blamed her. “‘S yours, miss. The bounty hunter said you’d lost it.”

Did he, now?

“Thank you,” you replied sincerely, careful not to let the datapad drop to the floor as you tucked it back into the deep brocade of your gown pockets. You didn’t have the wherewithal at first to ask her when he’d found it or found the time to return it. But you also didn’t have the common sense to keep your mouth shut. “Could I ask when he gave it to you?”

The servant ducked her head. “This morning, your Highness. I- I was in the loading bay when they left, think he was tryin’ to get a hold of you but didn’t have the time, told me- told me to keep quiet ‘bout it.” A bob of her throat signalled a nervous swallow. “Princess.”

Poor girl, you thought to yourself absentmindedly. Boba probably scared her half out of her wits.

“Really, I can’t thank you enough.” You touched a soft hand to the servant’s shoulder in an misguided attempt to soothe. She returned the action with a nervous smile, eyes still downcast and trying not to shy away.

You never realized how afraid they all were. Of you.

The realization made your tongue tangle in your throat, tripping over some lie about a fever and champagne-induced amnesia as explanation for your exchanges with a man so ill-acquainted.

Hopefully, the maid didn’t make a habit of gossip.

Hopefully, you stopped making a habit of Boba Fett.

⫸———————————————— ⫷

A chaincode, a datapad tracking number, and the rest of your life flashed in backlit neon. You silently cursed yourself for not putting an opening passcode on anything, including the datapad that you now held with slightly tremoring hands.

In your defense, it’s not like it held anything of interest. Mostly just holonovels and some pictures of things you found intriguing enough to want to paint or draw.

But now there was a thing of veritable interest stuffed into a new folder titled “Your Highness” and glowing in galactic basic.

BF-18378-3263827

You stared at the numbers until they morphed into a strong, stern-featured face, muddy in your imagination against the ink night invading your bedroom. Boba left his tracking number there for you. If you wanted to, you could use them to message him or comm him or leave a holoprojection message. Whenever you wanted. Right now, even.

When did he even find your datapad? Why he found it (and why he returned it with the aforementioned numerical contraband) was probably a more apt question.

There was quite a lot to think about. Best to take stock of the present moment, lest you lose your head and go completely mad. As if you hadn’t already.

The facts repeated themselves in a half-conscious mantra, screen slipping out of your hands and onto the pillow beside your head. Facts. Facts were good. What were the facts, again?

Boba Fett was arguably the most dangerous bounty hunter in the galaxy.

Boba Fett was not much of a talker.

Boba Fett was a piss-poor dancer.

And Boba Fett was an unfairly good kisser.

The beginning three points held little negative sway, with the first adding much more appeal than it should, the second a welcome relief, and the third being… sort of endearing.

It was on the last point that your mind lingered the longest.

You didn’t even realize you’d copied numbers into the screen’s communications system until its microphone crackled to life.

One breath, two breaths, stuck in your sleep-thick throat. No words from either side yet. Did you get the tracking code wrong? Maybe. Maybe.

Maybe you were dreaming already, imagining the wind outside to be the quiet, husky inhale that sounded from the other end of the receiver.

“Not falling asleep are we, princess?”

Your eyes shot open. “No. No, I’m…” the words croaked themselves out as you fought down a yawn, “I’m awake.” His low chuckle. “I called you didn’t I?”

“That you did,” Boba assented. Quiet amusement colored his accent. “And you called because…”

“I wanted to,” you said simply, without room for teasing. You were too sleepy to be ashamed of admitting you sought out his company, as foolish as doing so was. No use in hiding what both parties knew to be true.

He let out a noise of soft approval and it rumbled a pleasant sunburst between your ears. “You seem to want a lot of things, don’t you?”

Makes me want… want…

Want what, Princess?

Want you.

You can have me.

The memory snaked a fever flush down your neck, over the still-tender skin and lightly mottled marks. Boba was remembering it just as well as you were. You knew he was.

It gave you a rush, a weird sort of power trip. Because as stupid as you felt doing this, wanting this, he wanted it too. Enough to let your hands thread through his hair and around his arms, then to the scar above his left brow and across his mouth. Enough to let you do it again at the risk of being caught. Enough to leave you his tracking number, like you were two teenagers trading love letters and not legal adults with judgement better enough to do otherwise.

You stayed on the comm for two hours, and only went to sleep because Boba threatened to cut your link off if you didn’t.

⫸———————————————— ⫷

It had been almost five standard months since the first time you’d spoken. Typed words continued to be exchanged under your covers, day after day, night after night. Sometimes you’d fall asleep talking, peppering him with questions about his ship and his job until your throat ached with the effort of keeping yourself awake. Sometimes you did more than talk.

He never fell asleep. Never seemed to sleep, period.

What a strange man. Strange, dangerous, interesting man.

You often missed each other by a hair’s breadth. Courtly flurry and galactic bounty hunting didn’t make much space for private conversation. Boba was still taciturn. You were still naive.

And yet…

You liked him. He listened when you talked about botany and painting, neither of which you imagined interested him. He was arrogant and cocky and insufferable sometimes, but he listened. He told you about his job and regaled your sheltered curiosity with lurid, gory details. He told you about his father.

And one day he somehow, miraculously, had a set of Nabooan watercolors left for you in the garden.

Biting down a juvenile grin with every new message, you watched the quiet ping! of the datapad.

Hello

are you busy?

In a way

how so

Had a brush with Hutt’s rancor

poor thing

Don’t get soft on me now

wasn’t talking about you

Very funny

I’m very, very sorry

Should be. The bastard nearly tore up my flight suit

… show me?

⫸———————————————— ⫷

BF-18378-3263827 HAS ATTACHED 3 FILES

⫸———————————————— ⫷

HOLOCALL DURATION: 02:45:35 HOURS

SAVE CALL RECORDING? PRESS YES/NO TO CONFIRM

Your damp hands tremored.

YES

⫸———————————————— ⫷

Six months, four days, and 20 hours. That’s how long it took for you to see Boba Fett again.

You’d started to think the entire ordeal was a mirage, an illusionary experience your brain conjured up for you as a one-time brush with what your life could have been. Who it could’ve been with.

But you did see him again. Foolhardy, reckless, and unplanned.

You didn’t listen to his explanation about having to leave in the morning, taking some third-rate bounty as an excuse to come back to Quas Killam for the first time in what seemed like ages—practically eons since his mouth had last been at your neck. He appeared on your bedroom balcony near midnight like an apparition, mounted by a still-burning jetpack that shut off with an arc of smoke.

You’d been sleeping, albeit fitfully, and woke the minute his knuckles rapped against the glass. You didn’t remember ever telling him where your bedchambers were, but given… everything… you couldn’t say you were surprised he knew. When he crouched down to shed the helmet, it made a soft thump on the plush carpet.

And then you kissed. And kissed. And kissed.

Boba’s fingertips dragged fire across your prickled skin with every pass. Whose breathing was whose didn’t matter. It was hard, heaving, and shared. Eyes closed, lips raw, every part of you dizzy. Dizzy.

The sneeze that left you was loud enough to knock his forehead against yours. Hard.

Feet stumbling until your legs hit the bedspread, you let your weakened knees carry you down into a sitting position atop the covers and tried to catch your breath. Boba only chuckled, seemingly unperturbed by the mild injury.

Of course your body had picked today to come down with a cold. And of course you’d forgotten to tell him.

In your defense (you seemed to do a lot of self-defending these days) you didn’t know Boba would be coming tonight. When you asked him a week ago—the last time you’d spoken—he’d said “soon.” Whatever “soon” meant, you hadn’t anticipated it being now. Your rumpled nightgown and deteriorating personal hygiene was evidence enough of that.

The day had passed in fitful naps, with you waving away all attempts at help until the servants who usually tittered about decided to give you a wide berth until tomorrow. They’d left the door locked and your curtains drawn, thank the gods.

“A hello would’ve been nice,” you mumbled. The lingering taste of him in your mouth mixed with the bitter medicine that you’d forced down a few hours ago.

Boba didn’t answer at first, only stalking forward with his silhouette glowing in light of the full moon. You brought your knees up to your chest to make room for him to stand in front of you. Every movement was bathed in slowness, in the reverence of caution and night-time silence.

His gloved hand brushed against your chin and tilted it upwards, thumb rubbing a small circle into your jawbone as he moved your face in one large grip. Left, inspecting a swollen mouth and puffy eyes, then right. Up to see the column of your exposed neck. Down to meet his bare, dark face.

He kissed you again, more gentle this time. “Hello.”

A soft whimper left your throat.

Oh, you hated it. Hated the way you sounded when he touched you, small and pathetic. Needy.

The balustrade doors were still open, and this fact was made known by a particularly biting gust of silver wind.

“You’re cold,” the man standing close to you noted with a deep downquirk of his mouth. Boba never had to conceal anything; his helmet did that for him. But when it was off, every thought flickered past his face in evening technicolor.

Your hands paused in their run up your arms to hold petulantly at your elbows, covered only by the thin fabric of your shift. Goosebumps rose against your neck with a new breeze and you fought down the urge to shiver. “M’not.”

“And stubborn.”

You glared at him, but it held no real venom.

“I appreciate the concern,” you sniffled again and your body trembled slightly. “But I’m the picture of health. I really have never been—” here you sneezed rather violently, crumbling any remaining sense of composure and making the final words thick with congestion, “—any better.” Boba hooked two strong arms underneath your knees and around your shoulders. “Wh- what are you doing?”

“C’mon,” Boba grunted and lifted you to his chest in one swift, easy motion. “Up.”

“I’m already up,” you grumbled, a headache you’d thought was all but gone now throbbing from the quick movement. Armor pressed to your cheek and you let yourself go pliant, curling up into Boba’s broad chest. He smelled nice. Like the outdoors. The real outdoors—not manufactured gardens or stone courtyards. No, dangerous things. Like deserts and leather and guns.

You queried him as he walked in long strides across the room. “Where are you taking me? Should have you—” another sneeze burned your airways, “—have you arrested for treason. A high crime or misdemeanor of some sort, kidnapping royalty...”

He only scoffed, shifting your slack body into his one-armed grip when he arrived at the entrance of your adjunct refresher. The door opened with a soft click. “You talk too much.”

Your head rolled back to face him, pressed so close already that the attempt made you cross-eyed. “And you,” a polished finger jabbed lightly at his chest plate, “are up to no good.”

You were only joking, but Boba didn’t deny it.

Green was your favorite color, even before you met him. It was the color of gardens. Of mint leaves. Of insects and jewels. Of him.

Gods, he was beautiful. Did he know that? Would he ever believe you if you told him? He was achingly, painfully, humanly beautiful. It hurt like needles.

The man set you down to your immediate protests. Funny how quick you seemed to change your mind. “Don’t whine,” he chided when you did just that, pushing you forward by the small of your back.

You walked into the refresher confused, that same confusion compounding when Boba strode over to the marble bathtub in room’s center with a surety that belayed the fact he’d never once stepped foot inside here. Were all bounty hunters this self-assured? Or was he just so full of bathroom bravado that your sprawling floor-plan didn’t faze him?

Whatever the case was, said bounty hunter was now crouched down on the tile floor and twisting the tub faucets until they sprayed out a gush of hot water, quickly filling the room with heady steam.

“Hot water helps.” A still-gloved hand dipped an inch into the filling tub and deemed it acceptable. “The steam’ll clear up those sneezes of yours. And the headache.”

“How did you know I-” your mouth opened and closed before you realized you didn’t do a great job of hiding your symptoms. Maker knows you looked a sight, all mussed and tired and sticky with cold sweat. He should make a run for it now, you half-joked to yourself. He’s only ever seen me stuffed into a corset and done up half to death.

He got up with a grunt and turned back towards you. Beskar and durasteel and tactical fabric suddenly made you feel, for the first time in your life, underdressed. “‘S not hard to tell, princess.”

“Oh,” was your only response as you pushed off the sink counter, fisting the fabric of your nightgown in an unconscious display of hesitancy.

Boba’s heavy boots made for the door.

It was probably just to leave you some semblance of privacy, but you panicked, not wanting to be left alone now that he was finally here. “Wait!” you burst out, reaching a palm onto his shoulder before he could exit. “Wait. Can— can you stay?” Of course he won’t stay, you dolt. He probably came to sleep with you, not babysit you. “Please?”

Both of his hands curled into themselves when he turned back to you, their leather squeaking in the tight flex. Then, they released limp by his sides. Each word was carefully measured, slow-simmering like a pot about to boil over. Like a trigger finger twitchy on a blaster. “If you want me to.”

You answered with a bobbing nod and a swallow. “I do.”

⫸————————————————⫷

Boba Fett had long since forgotten he was a man. Instead, he was armor. He was a code, a set of strict (albeit grey) morals, the steadfast honor he’d been imbibed with from the years with his father and then the years of tearing emptiness after.

Bounty hunters had no time for attachments. They couldn’t afford to humor every batting eyelash with more than a self-serving flirtation, and he’d had his fill of those already. He’d overflowed his cup ten times over with shallow pleasantries and quick release.

But those days were long-gone. Had been for years now. Now he was practically puritanical.

Had been, anyway.

He didn’t like thinking of himself as impulsive, wanting to leave the trait behind in his younger years but not being old enough to shake it off completely. But he wasn’t impulsive anymore. He wasn’t.

You were going to destroy him.

Low-ranking royalty on some Imperial-occupied factory planet; sheltered and pretty. You had the brightest eyes he had ever seen and a temperament that took no prisoners, and you were going to destroy him.

Boba thought you’d make him leave, but you didn’t. You wanted him to stay and told him so.

So he stayed. His armor was peeled off in your presence for the first time— carefully placed on a chair in your bedroom—and he walked back into the refresher to see you untying your flimsy nightdress like it’d done you a personal wrong.

When it dropped beside your feet, it took every ounce of self-control Boba possessed to stop himself from eating you whole.

He heard you kick it to the floor (his eyes had since been very determinedly fixed on a fascinating piece of groutwork near his left foot) before you stepped into the bath, sighing in a way that made breathing a work harder than it should’ve been.

His looking away wasn’t a request on your part, you didn’t seem to mind either way, but he didn’t trust himself to do otherwise. Not until the sounds of splashing had subsided somewhat, signalling your stilled motion. “Boba?”

Now there was permission to walk. Look down. Right foot, left foot. Right foot, left foot. Right foot, the clawfoot of the bathtub. He had reached his destination.

A wet hand tugged at his belt loops and he finally allowed himself to look, meeting the sight of you sitting bare in the clear-blue water with legs pulled up to your chest. The arm not touching him was roped around your calves. Your chin rested on the wide, curved lip of the tub.

If Boba had any self-respect, it had been snuffed out the first moment you opened your mouth, six months ago in that cavernous palace hallway with your failed attempt at bravado. It was haughty, short-lived, and adorable.

Maker, you were beautiful. Did you know that? Would you ever believe him if you told you? You were blindingly, effervescently, humanly beautiful. It hurt like needles.

The position of your chin forced your lips into a slight pout. As if you needed another weapon in your arsenal of ways to make him question his judgement. “Could you bring me the tray on the counter?”

Of course he could. He could bring you anything you liked. He would bring you a rancor, a dozen rancors, a fucking sarlaac if it meant you would smile all soft-like the way you just did when he answered yes.

Boba Fett, mercenary feared farther than he would ever live to travel and hunter too expensive for the Imperial payroll, was now a bath attendant. It was torturous in its sensual irony.

The tray was brought over in short order, cluttered with tiny vials of Maker-knows-what and bars of who-knows-how. Individually they probably all smelled nice, but crowded together the heavy scents only made his head spin. He set the tray down on the floor with a rattle and held up each mystery soap for your inspection. No. No. No. No, not that one. Gods, you were picky. No. No. Yes, please.

You were Miss Manners tonight apparently.

“It’s floating archidia,” you told him, mind running through an endless backlog of plant indexes as he handed over the soap. You sounded clearer now, less congested and more alert. Needed to drink water, though. “The flower that this is made with, I mean. Native to the planet Nubia, rumored to have euphoric properties.” You snorted and ran a thumbnail along the bar’s waxy edge, bringing up a curled pink piece. “Whatever that means.”

“Do you think it does?”

“Have euphoric properties?” you hummed, considering it for a moment. “Maybe. But maybe it’s just wishful thinking.”

“Wishful thinking,” Boba parroted.

The meaning of words can change when they’re repeated. Neither of your minds were on flowers.

His jaw tensed when you reached your other hand to his forearm, baring the rest of your body to the dim orange of the refresher lights’ night settings. The water rippled, warm now instead of steaming, and your fingers curled around the scarred skin of his wrist. “Take off the gloves,” you echoed, your voice suddenly desperate and distant as you traced over pale leather seams. “Please.”

He had refused the first time simply to toy with you. You weren’t used to being told no, and it showed. But he let you take off his helmet in a moment of thoughtless self-indulgence, scratching the part of his subconscious that itched to be touched, stroked, held. Shedding the helmet in front of someone else didn’t really mean anything in an honorable sense—at least not to Boba. Nothing tied him to the habit except a desire to keep himself and his motivations unknown. It was easier that way. Less messy.

He acquiesced. "Since you asked so nicely."

Wrinkling your nose, you guided newly-bare palms to knead gently at your shoulder blades. The skin there was soft and warm, pliant under his sandpaper touch. "Keep mentioning it and I'll go back to being difficult."

The soap made foamy bubbles across your back, over your arms and the velvet slope of your hips. Fingertips ghosted through the space between your jaw and ear, where he remembered sucking in a soft bruise.

He liked being known by you.

⫸————————————————⫷

You clambered out the tub with all the grace of a baby krugga deer and about as much shame. Which is to say, none at all. The subsiding cold had left you tired, bones like jelly and mind sloshing its thoughts around with no real order. Boba was here. Had stayed. Was standing in front of you now, watching tiny water droplets trail down your feet and letting you balance on his arm to keep you from stumbling.

A towel was wrapped around your shoulders. The press of his hot mouth against your forehead followed close behind. “Go sit on the bed.”

For some reason, you didn’t mind listening to him this time. Chalk it up to moldable exhaustion, you thought. Definitely not the fact that his voice sounded especially nice tonight, or any number of other questionable reasons.

He was going to ruin you. Or you would ruin yourself. Any way it was construed, Boba would play a part.

Still only in a towel, you drank the stale tea that sat on your bedside table and watched in mild interest as the mercenary’s shadow emptied out tepid bathwater with the thick glugluglug of the drain. It washed down soap and all your shared secrets.

Was it wrong that you still wanted him? More, now that he’d done this for you? Now that it wasn’t just cruel kisses and groping hands? What sort of a person did that make you?

Your mind whispered it when Boba walked back towards you. Someone lonely.

He helped you slide a new chemise on when you asked him to, quick and steady over the thin linen ties. I bet you do that with all the girls, you’d teased. No, he answered simply. Just you.

He was going to ruin you.

“Do you have to go yet?” you asked quietly and climbed under the covers. They were green today. Life enjoyed coincidences like that.

Boba crouched down on the floor beside your lying figure and shook his head. A wide fingertip smoothed away the crease between your brows. He was doing lots of touching. You were not complaining. “Not ‘til morning.”

“You might as well then,” you mumbled and lifted up the embroidered blankets with a sleep-slack hand. “No one’ll bother us, I promise.” you answered the empty air, too heartsick to comprehend any possible insinuations and too tired to realize the fingers tracing your brow bone had paused. “I told them all not to come back until tomorrow.”

His shirt and pants were shed in an unceremonious pile. You were already half-asleep when he climbed into the other side of the bed, slotting his legs against yours like puzzle pieces. Two question marks curled into each other, his chest to your back and his lips brushing your head.

“Goodnight, princess.”

⫸————————————————⫷

You were dreaming about him.

He was the burning sun that every single one of your thoughts had orbited around for the last six months and now he was invading your subconscious, dream-talons taking the form of dark hands rubbing soft circles against you and then invading your open mouth.

In your dream, Boba touched you softly and not at all, a tease even in your self-serving imagination.

Then you woke up, and it wasn’t a dream anymore.

Two thick arms encircled your waist with a grip unyielding in their strength. They’d pulled you impossibly close, pressed up against his sleeping body until every ridge of his muscled stomach could be felt against your back. Something else was against your back.

Your head reeled in its effort to sludge through the fog of sleep and reach the reality of masculine hips. They shifted in an unintentional grind against your legs until you couldn’t bite back the gasp that bubbled out from your voicebox, the sound quiet, keening, and lost in the shuffled sounds of fabric. It was still dark out. The water-clock in the corner of your room read 01:25:02.

You hadn’t put on anything underneath the new chemise. Why bother, when he’d already seen everything? Your body had grown to be a thing for display, a clothes-hanger and object to be prodded by strangers, and you’d long since rid yourself of any precocious modesty.

But this was different.

When Boba touched you, it wasn’t to sew flowers in your hair or drape a sash over your chest. It was simply to touch. The thought made you light-headed with newfound embarrassment, wiggling in his grip until you turned to face his sleeping form.

All the heavy things he carried on his shoulders during the day were gone now. His bottom lip pillowed out when he slept and he looked younger, the perpetual downturn of his lips now settled below the black hair at his temples. You felt a sticky sort of fondness settle in your chest.

“Boba,” you whispered, two hands placing themselves on his tanned cheeks. They traced the divots of scars and premature lines with all the reverence of worshipfulness.

“Mmm,” his voice rumbled with eyes still closed. A warm mouth kissed the side of your palm.

“Boba,” you repeated, more desperate this time but not knowing what you were desperate for. The space between your legs already knew what it wanted, hot and pulsing with a familiar dampness. Traitor.

“What do you need?” The question wasn’t accusatory, nor annoyed at your waking him. It was known that he would give you whatever you liked. Eventually.

You. Just you.

“I don’t,” you huffed, the fabric sticking uncomfortably to your now overheated body as you squirmed, “I don’t know.” Lie.

“Think about it and tell me,” he whispered, eyes opening in their dark, heavy-lidded expectation. The moon and stars suspended outside offered light enough to see the smirk on his face. His skin was the color of burnt earth and of gods. Somewhere, far away in the canopy of carefully pruned trees, a single lark let out its warbled cry.

There was an old adage about being like a lamb to the slaughter. You’d never touched a lamb. Never seen a slaughter. But somehow, you knew it was true.

This lamb, dumb and tender-hearted, was willingly sacrificied.

"I...'' the word left you in the arc of your exhale, one whoosh of air that rattled your chest already wracked with fevered tremors. "I- want you to-"

"You want me to what, pretty thing?" His voice was low, dangerous. It made every part of you want him more. "Say it."

You weren't used to cursing. It was never tolerated and you barely ever heard it, but you'd learned enough to know what he wanted you to say. Which word he wanted to hear, and what it'd mean he would do.

"F-fuck. Me." you choked out, biting your lip to muffle the embarrassment of having to speak it out loud. The word was filthy and raw between your teeth. "Please?"

⫸————————————————⫷

You were dying. Possibly had already died. Were ascending up or barrelling down, you didn’t care as long as his wet mouth stayed between your legs and never, ever stopped.

Wide hands cupped at your skin and kneaded wherever they could reach, simultaneously rough and supplicating. Every pass of his tongue was enough to make you feel possessed. He was killing you.

“Good. Good girl.” he said against your swollen skin when your hips arced off the bed, your spine and toes stiffening for what seemed like an eternity during the damp lightning finish. It sounded like a growl, animalistic and vibrating. A burning, sweet hurt.

Some people call it “little death,” a lady’s maid once whispered underneath her hand in a giggle. “Little death?” you repeated incredulously. That seems a bit dramatic, don’t you think?

You understood now.

Boba didn’t let up, never once letting his touch waver even as you buckled and swayed, all sense lost and all sensation compacting. “Another,” he ordered. Your body listened, bending to his touch without complaint with eyes rolled back into your head.

You were dying.

⫸————————————————⫷

Boba let you lay against him in the downturn, rubbing mindless shapes into the bone of your wrists as you struggled to breathe. Your neck was cradled in one of his broad, bronze palms. It gave one tiny, imperceptible squeeze. An accident. A test.

You pawed at the hand resting heavy on your nape until it moved to leave completely, but was caught instead by your fingers and guided—slow and curious—to cup at your bared throat.

“Dirty,” the man noted in a dark rasp and rolled over to face you. There was a slight smirk in his voice, but that could’ve just been your imagination.

“I don’t see you...” your voice trailed off into a wheeze as Boba’s thick fingers pressed into the sides of your neck, “—see you complaining.”

He kissed you. And kissed you. And kissed you. An eternity was spent opening the seam of your mouth while he choked you softly, baring your pulsating soul with only your bedroom walls as witness to the present depravity. The air was filled with begging and grunting—simple noises that stuttered and left your sheets ruined.

You wanted more. You couldn’t help it.

His chuckle morphed into a groan when you reached down to touch him with widening eyes, squeezing him curiously after pulling down his boxers. “You’re a brave little thing,” Boba noted with a hint of greedy pride. “Never done this before, have you?”

Your own hands served as poor substitutes all these years. You shook your head no.

“D’you want to?”

Of course you did. This was the only thing you wanted. The only thing you would ever want, over and over until your body turned to dust under him. A million grains of fizzy, burning blaster powder. A million comets passing by a supernova.

You nodded and tucked your face into the space between Boba’s shoulder and neck, rolling onto your side and hooking a leg over his hip. Your chests met, damp with sweat as cool air flowed over bare skin. The covers had long since been pushed aside. “Safe,” you said in a heady moan over the shell of his ear. “Implant.”

Thank goodness for modern medicine.

⫸————————————————⫷

It hurt a little at first, but most of the discomfort melted away as he whispered to you, sweet and cloying praises alongside filthy things that you’d be hard-pressed to repeat in public. They wove together in an endless stream of baritone vowels, lapping over each other like ocean waves until everything was a gyrating, syrupy playback.

He let you move against him, mouth open and sloppy against your temple when you whined at the stretch. The hands at your back didn’t push. Only placated. “I know, I know,” Boba assured you with fingers rubbing sympathetic desire into your flesh. It would bruise, but you’d come to like the marks. Your hips bucked at their own accord when he pressed up against something tight, the friction burning a bright, numb spark. “Slow down,” he mumbled into your hair, “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

Never in your life did you think this was how it would be. Your first kiss, more of a battle than it was a kiss, served as fuel for the expectations of your first time. Never in your life did you think he would be the one telling you to go slow.

It was for your sake, you knew that. But it was still surprising.

You huffed and bit the shell of his ear in childish revenge, blowing a puff of air where you knew it would tickle. Boba only growled and tightened his arms around your waist, rocking into you slow and deep. “Don’t tease,” he warned.

The new movements robbed you of the ability to speak until all you could do in response was lift your head from where it had rested on his shoulder, meeting impossibly dark eyes in lust-addled vision as a building pressure colored the entire world in shades of black, red, and green.

In a moment of complete and utter lack of propriety, you leaned forward, smiling like a woman deranged, and pressed a kiss to his nose.

Boba came undone the same minute you did. It was a rush of wet, rocking pleasure, spreading like thick webs of lighted fire from inside your blood and out to fill the room with quiet devotion. Panting, bursting, close, messy. You’d never felt so whole.

Your foreheads met and you went cross-eyed trying to look at him again. That’s all you wanted to do. Look at him. Uttered underneath his jaw, where the skin was smooth, was your finishing admission. “I love you.”

You didn’t say it to hear it repeated. It was just to give it a shape. Make it concrete. Said more to yourself than him, really.

But Boba did repeat it. Over and over and over. In the tangle of your arms. I love you. In the kiss to your breasts. I love you. In the towel brought between your legs. I love you. In the settled silence of new sleep. I love you, I love you, I love you.

⫸————————————————⫷

The watery light of dawn melted through heavy curtains and you awoke, body weighed down with lead and gold. Sweet soreness had made its home in your muscles and you were loath to get up, but the man you’d been using as a pillow had very rudely left his post.

“I have to go,” he said, already awake and standing sentry by your bed. You raised your head up from the pillows in groggy protest to meet his blurry figure. If you squinted, there were three of him standing there at once.

A shake of your head rid your vision of the doubles, leaving the lone man. He kissed you—quick and dirty, with tongue—and squeezed your exposed breast, prompting a low moan to tumble from your mouth before he slipped his blaster into the holster at his hip. It wasn’t even 6 in the morning and you were thoroughly debauched. What a scandal, you thought (not for the first time) with passing amusement. A bounty hunter and a princess.

Watching in a dim haze as Boba finished strapping on his amor, you tracked the reflection of the sun in the metal’s lazy movement.

He leaned over you. “I’ll be back soon.” Soon. What did soon mean? Another kiss, slow and careful on the bow of your mouth. One more on the slope of your forehead. For luck, you supposed. Whether it was for you or him didn’t matter much. “Promise.”

Slowly, as he climbed out onto your balcony and was gone with a flash of jetpack light, you wondered if it was a mirage; a dream, maybe. The entire night a hallucinatory haze, a figment of your overactive imagination and reckless romanticism.

But the towel left discarded on the floor and the pulsing ache between your legs was very, very real.

#boba fett x reader #boba fett/reader #boba fett fanfiction #boba fett x you #boba fett fic #boba fett oneshot #boba fett imagine

281 notes · View notes

sehunniepotwrites · 4 years

Text

sakura kiss | n.yt

PART III OF FOR YOU IN FULL BLOOM: THE HANAHAKI COLLECTION

🌸 synopsis—the four times you noticed yuta’s love for flowers and the one time you realized it was not the flowers he was in love with

🌸 genre— would you be so kind? universe ; hanahaki!au, university!au, flower shop!au, angst, romance, slight fluff, mutual pining, strangers to lovers!au 🌸 pairing— art student/florist!yuta x art student!reader (f) 🌸 word count— 9000+

🌸 warnings — cursing; mentions of coughing, vomiting, hospital visits, death (no one dies!!), two idiots in love

🌸 author’s note—so i finished a fic with my favorite trope in time for my birthday today (dec 11th) and i’m posting to celebrate! it all started with this tweet that said yuta used to work at a flower shop and enjoyed drawing the plants during his free time!

this was a fun write and it takes place in the same verse as wybsk, which is linked above! you can read sakura kiss as a stand alone or after wybsk to get a better understanding of two scenes! to those you came from my mark fic, i gave yn a name (kira)!

but here she is! enjoy and be sure to tell me what you think!! i love feedback uwu

Nakamoto Yuta, you noticed, was an unusual fellow. He was your senior in the art department, a fourth-year preparing for his graduation while you were a couple of semesters behind him. Other than his small circle of friends, the foreign exchange student kept to himself, burying his handsome face in his sketchbook. You had classes together before but those were large lectures with over fifty students in the room— this was the first time you shared a small studio lab with him.

Barely interacting with him in the past, you were determined to change that no matter how intimidating Yuta was.

Were you intimidated by his extremely good looks or his unmatched talents in the fine arts? Both. Definitely both. He turned heads without fail and when he smiled, oh my god, you thought he was the sun. Yuta was pretty, beyond pretty even, with his striking face, brown eyes, and perfect body proportions.

To add on top of his perfection, his art style was immaculate. The artist never failed to steal your breath away with a couple of strokes and a swipe of his blessed hand. Anything he touched turned to gold. Never sharing those thoughts with him in the past, you made a firm decision to tell your senior this coming semester.

Yuta sat at the easel next to you, barely two feet away from your station. His sketchbook and drawing utensils were already splayed out on the holder. He was fiddling with his phone to pass the time, his painted nails rapidly hitting his touchscreen. How did Yuta make something so mundane as checking his phone look so ethereal? The inner most thoughts in your head cursed whatever beings lived in the beyond for not endowing you with such looks.

You gulped, gathering up the courage to talk to him. “Hey,” you greeted shyly.

Hey? That was the best you could do?

Yuta turned towards you, gaze shifting away from his phone. “Hey,” he said back with a slight curve of the lip.

“I don’t know if you remember me but we had a couple of classes together last semester,” you forced yourself to say with an awkward smile.

He grinned and his teeth sunk into his bottom lip, almost like he was holding back a laugh. “Yeah, no, of course, I remember you.” Your name slips from his mouth, causing your awkward smile to turn into a genuine one. His tone is kind and his voice is low, sending shivers down your spine.

You tried your best to keep the conversation going, wanting to finally compliment him on his work but your professor entered the room and called for everyone’s attention. He handed out the syllabus to a student upfront and around the papers went, signifying the start of your first class. Yuta shot you an apologetic look, conveying that you could always continue the conversation later.

The overview of the course’s syllabus was always the boring part of the first days. Your eyes glazed over, still not fully awake from rising early, and you tried to shake the sleepiness away. Stealing a glance at Yuta, you almost laughed at how his easel was angled in a way to hide that he wasn’t paying any attention. His syllabus outline was discarded off to the side and Yuta’s hands were moving rapidly, sketching out a large tree in full bloom in a page of his notebook.

It looked like flower petals raining from the branches and a person leaning against the tree trunk, hiding underneath the shade. His sketching speed and quality amazed you— how exactly did he sketch that fast and that beautifully?

You made sure your professor wasn’t looking in your direction before nudging Yuta’s side to grab his attention. He snapped out of his drawing daze and turned to you with widened eyes. A red seeped into his ears and pale cheeks, but you missed it completely, eyes zoned in on his quick draw.

“Hm?”

“That’s really good,” you whispered.

He rubbed the back of his neck at your compliment. “It’s just a quick sketch,” Yuta tried to play it off. He was never one to take compliments so well.

You leaned over to get a closer look. Noticing you almost falling off your stool, Yuta shifted his easel slightly closer to yours. “Is that a cherry blossom tree?”

He nodded, “Yeah, they’ve been on my mind a lot.”

“Do they remind you of home?” you asked. You couldn’t imagine being an exchange student in a foreign country— you would miss home too much.

“Yeah but that’s not really the reason why I’m drawing them,” he replied. His eyes shifted to a look of pain or discomfort as if he was reminded of a scarring memory. You watched him closely to make sure he was okay. He cleared his throat before letting out a couple of concealed coughs, face digging into his shoulder.

“You alright, Nakamoto?” You were too embarrassed to call him by his first name.

“Yeah, I’m good. Just a little cough.” Yuta gave you a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “And you can just call me Yuta, you know?”

“Right, noted,” the name felt so foreign on your tongue.

“I have cough drops in my bag if you want some,” you offered, already reaching down to grab your backpack. He quickly dismissed you, telling you it wasn’t necessary.

Continuing to watch him sketch, you admired the way Yuta fussed over the smallest details— the lining, the shading, etc. It was nothing more than a simple sketch but if it was gifted to you, it would be framed and hung for the world to see.

He really was an artistic genius.

“Cherry blossoms are my favorite flowers,” you said.

You were too absorbed in his drawing to hear him mutter, “I know.”

“You say something?”

Yuta cleared his throat again with a pained expression. His hand held his neck for a second before shaking his head. “I said, they used to be mine too.”

Huh, you never really picked him as the flower loving type.

—🌸—

This was the third time Nakamoto Yuta had flowers growing in his chest and he hated it.

It was less painful the first two times around, probably because they were nothing more than fleeting crushes. He was in high school then, wholly infatuated with two different students during those years. Yuta followed them around like a lovesick puppy, all smiles and waiting on their hands and feet. He coughed a couple of petals out and it caused some uneasiness, but after being rejected harshly, Yuta pushed himself to move on.

The pain of high school rejection could never compare to the dull ache he was feeling as he looked at you. There you were, the person he secretly admired for the past two semesters, merely two feet away at your own easel.

You looked so in your element, eyebrows knitted and pencil in hand as you sketched away. A sight so captivating, Yuta almost forgot to breathe. Being an artist himself, he wanted to preserve that image on a canvas but he didn’t think his hand could do you justice. No pencil sketch, no painted canvas, no marble or clay sculpture could even compare to you.

This was more than puppy love. More than infatuation. Yuta was sure of it but how was he to let you know? You barely knew each other and a confession out of nowhere wouldn’t be the best way to get acquainted.

Perhaps another time, he thought to himself, before turning back to his sketch.

You would’ve never guessed that Yuta Nakamoto had a thing for flowers but he did.

Then again, you didn’t really know what he had a thing for to begin with— your friendship just started to bloom. It was like a bud barely opening under the sunlight; with each interaction, there was something new you learned about the quiet yet charismatic art major.

You knew he was a Japanese exchange student that majored in art, that was a given. You recently learned he loved cherry blossoms and that watercolor was his favorite art medium yet you still wanted to learn more.

The first time you ran into him outside of class was in the university library. Yuta sat at one of the tables, his space surrounded by books on flowers. There were books on the language, arrangements, and gardening tips. His face was deep into his sketchbook once again, back bent over the desk but his focused eyes darted back and forth between his drawing and his page of reference.

Yuta didn’t even notice as you hovered over him, debating on whether you should say hi. Even with your shadow casting over his body, his deep concentration never faltered.

His page was filled with various plants and flowers, little notes in a messy scrawl right under their pictures. He was currently drawing cherry blossoms, the page he was referring to showcasing the anatomy of the famous flower.

“Cherry blossoms again, Yuta?” you broke the silence.

Your voice startled him, causing his pencil to slip from the artist’s grip. It made an accidental mark and you whispered an apology as he clicked his tongue.

“Don’t worry about it, nothing an eraser can’t fix,” Yuta reassured you as he rid his paper of the unwanted mark. He blew the eraser bits of his page, hand sweeping his surface clean. He offered you the seat next to him and you gladly took it.

“So, why are you always sketching flowers?” you posed as your hand gestured to all the books he had on his person.

“They’re beautiful, don’t you think?” he answered with another question. He gave you a cheeky little grin, his lips widening to show off his beautiful pearly whites.

“Well, yeah.”

“It’s a shame they die so easily,” Yuta said, fingers running over his sketches. “Beautiful but fleeting.”

“But that’s life, isn’t it?”

“I guess it is.”

You hummed at his answer. “You’re really passionate about flowers, aren’t you?”

“Something like that. I actually work at a flower shop nearby, maybe you’ve seen it?” Yuta fiddled with the front pocket of his backpack to pull out a business card. “I like learning about the meanings to help the customers in the shop, amongst other things.”

You took the card from his grip, examining it. For You in Full Bloom was printed largely on the thin piece of cardboard. Staring at the name, you wondered why it sounded so familiar until it hit you.

“Oh, I pass by it everyday while walking to campus! I live two blocks away from the shop.” Your smile grew wider and he smiled back for a second before his face contorted into one that conveyed pain.

Yuta turned away from you to cough into his hand, his free one hastily digging into his pocket. He pulled out a handkerchief and began to cough into that. Shocked by his sudden sick fit, you quickly patted him on the back, hoping it would help him hack out whatever was lodged in his throat.

You saw him peek into the small square of fabric and wince at whatever it caught. He cleared his throat before turning back to you. “Sorry,” Yuta muttered, rubbing the front of his neck to soothe it. Placing a cough drop in his hand, he took it without complaint and popped it in his mouth. The relieved sigh he let out made you feel slightly less worried.

“You’re still sick?” you frowned. “You should really get that checked out, you know?”

He waved you off, “It’s nothing serious, I swear. What were we talking about again?”

“Cherry blossoms?”

“Your favorite flower.”

“And yours,” you added.

He hummed, “And mine.” There was a solemn tone behind his words but before you could press on the subject, he coughed again.

“Did you know that they’re also a symbol of renewal?”

Shaking your head, you urged your classmate to continue.

“Cherry blossoms hold the bittersweet meaning of life and death but they also bring the message of new beginnings.”

—🌸—

Yuta just wished when it came to you and him, the flowers meant the start of something new but no— instead, they just reminded him of the ache in his chest.

They reminded Yuta of how alive he was but also how he was one step closer to his grave.

Yes, you were merely classmates but he felt like he knew you solely from all the stories that were shared by your mutual friends in the art department. Ten and Taeyong sang praises on how thoughtful you were, always helping professors clean their studios after hours. Sicheng brought up how passionate you were about your major— Yuta himself bore witness to this many times during lectures and he wanted to know more about you.

A lot of charm filled your figure and it was enchanting, it really wasn’t that hard for him to fall.

Yuta fell for you much like the blossoms from the cherry trees.

And just like the blossoms, his time was fleeting but you were so completely unaware.

You left the library first, having forgotten that you had office hours with a professor. He watched you leave, eyes fixed onto your back.

Someone once said that you become miserable if you love someone too much. Yuta believed that to be true. There was a pang in his chest, heart racing against his rib cage as a stronger nausea attack hit him.

He gasped for air as his weakened stomach turned with sickness. Something was rising, working its way up his body. Yuta quickly slapped his hand over his lips as he hurled. Instead of bile, cherry blossom petals rained out of his mouth and into his palm.

He chuckled under his breath. Was it sad that he found beauty in his suffering?

Yuta thought himself to be crazy as he quickly shoved away the pain to begin sketching the petals in his hand.

For You in Full Bloom— what a nice name, you thought to yourself as you entered the shop with your friend Sicheng right behind you. The light ringing of the bell attached to the front entrance alerted the people at the counter of your presence. You picked up on harsh whispers before the tall male worker rushed to the back, forcing the young girl to assist you.

“Hi, welcome in!” the girl smiled brightly at you. “How can I help you today?”

Before you could reply, Sicheng stepped forward to answer, “Kira, we’re looking for Yuta— is he here?”

“Oh, Sicheng, hey! I didn’t even see you,” Kira exclaimed. “He’s, uh, not here right now.” Kira shot Sicheng a frustrated look, eyes darting to the back. Your companion sighed, done with his friend’s stupidity. You missed the quiet interaction, being too preoccupied with your surroundings.

“We’ll catch him another time then,” you answered her.

The small and quaint store was filled to the brim with flowers and your hands ghosted against the magnificent displays in the front window. The petals felt soft and the pleasing smells overwhelmed your senses in a good way. There was beauty all around you— there was no wonder why people loved visiting flower shops.

Various watercolor pieces were framed on the wall and you examined every artwork displayed. They were simple paintings of the plants that found a temporary home in the store. Some pieces were the flowers by themselves and others were of the many arrangements offered. They were vibrant, bright, and so incredibly detailed.

“I’ll tell him you stopped by,” she paused to ask for your name. You replied with a smile before turning back to take in the art.

“The paintings are a nice touch,” you commented, finally turning to look at her.

“Oh those? Yuta painted them,” Kira grinned, her body straightening up with pride. “He paints a lot when the shop is slow and my mom, the owner, loves to hang them up.”

“I should’ve known.” You took a closer look and spotted Yuta’s signature at the bottom of every picture.

“He’s very talented, isn’t he?” Kira hummed. Sicheng snorted for some unknown reason and you slapped his shoulder in response. There was nothing funny about Yuta’s skills and he knew that.

“Yeah, his skill is unmatched. I admire him for that.”

“Have you ever told him that?”

“God, no!”

“Why not?” Kira pressed. Sicheng joined in on the pressing and you moaned, an embarrassing heat creeping up your face,

“I don’t know. We talk but I find him to be a little intimidating,” you leaned against Sicheng’s shoulder and looped your arm through his. “I can’t just go up to him and fangirl over his work, can I?”

“But you want to,” he groaned. “And I’m tired of hearing you go on about it. Just tell him.”

A whine left your lips and you pinched your friend’s arm at the comment. He yelped and Kira just watched as the bickering continued.

“Yuta looks intimidating, yeah, but it’s just his resting bitch face, I promise. He’s just a softie,” Kira laughed and Sicheng agreed. “You should definitely tell him. He would love hearing it, especially from you.”

There was this knowing smile on both of their lips and it just seemed like they knew something you didn’t. You tugged on Sicheng’s arm as an attempt to ask him the florist meant by the last bit of her sentence and he tried to shrug you away. You just clung on tighter to your friend with a playful smile with Kira keeping a close eye on you.

You heard a cough come from the back of the store, causing both Sicheng and Kira to look up with concern. The coughing fit grew louder and louder, leaving Kira to excuse herself for a bit.

“If the other florist is sick, they should be at home resting,” you tutted with a frown.

“Some people are stubborn,” Sicheng threw back with a bit of distaste. Picking up on your friend’s bitterness, you wondered why he felt so strongly about it. You waved it off when a small display of sunflowers and red roses together captured your attention. Holding it in your hands, you admired how the two vibrant colors compliment each other.

Kira swung her way around the counter, “You like that bouquet?”

“It would be really pretty to paint,” you say, still spinning it around in awe.

“Yuta put it together himself yesterday, he’s pretty good at arrangements,” the florist beamed.

“What can’t he do?” you scoffed.

“Apparently, open his mouth and say what he needs to say,” Sicheng muttered beside you. Kira elbowed his stomach and he lurched over in pain.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” Kira laughed nervously. She worked her way to you and gestured towards the flowers, “It’s yours, on the house.”

You rejected the offer right away. “Oh no, I couldn’t,” is what you reply, attempting to shove the arrangement into her hands. With a kind grin, she persisted for you to take it and just asked you to buy from them the next time you visited. “I’m sure Yuta would love it if you took this one off our hands.”

With a promise, you hesitantly accepted the bouquet. Sicheng was snickering in the background and you had to hold yourself back from whacking him with the flowers. Thinking you’d taken too much of the florist’s time, you quickly said your thanks and headed out the door with a coy Sicheng trailing behind you.

—🌸—

“They’re gone,” Kira yelled towards the back of the shop. Yuta made his way back to his spot at the cash register while wiping at his mouth with his uniform sleeve. He quickly pulled out his art supplies from underneath the counter, setting everything up to resume his painting. Taking a seat on the stool, his body was slumped over his makeshift desk as he messed with his pencils.

His coworker rolled her eyes at him as she began to work on a bouquet of blue cornflowers and daisies— good fortune and new beginnings. Her nimble hands hastily worked their magic with ease as if she’s done it a million times before. Yuta observed her, quickly sketching her hands at work.

“You’re ridiculous, I don’t get why you had to hide.”

“I didn’t want her to see me like this,” Yuta said, his pained eyes covered by the long bangs that drooped down over his sketchbook.

“Like what?” Her hands went to her hips. “Sick and hopelessly in love?”

“Yeah, let’s put it that way.”

“There’s a solution to this, you know,” Kira pressed with furrowed brows. “You don’t have to keep suffering.”

This. Hanahaki is what she meant— the disease of unrequited love.

“I’m fine, Kira,” Yuta hissed with a bit more annoyance than he intended to. She flinched at the tone but still pushed on when he coughed again. He felt the discomfort of something being lodged in his throat and his body had the urge to hack it out. Suddenly, he was leaning over the counter with cherry blossom petals littering the cash register.

Yuta practically hacked up a storm, body curling in pain. One hand was clutching his stomach while the other had a death grip on the edge of the counter. The dizziness returned and he felt lightheaded as the retching subsided. A weakness took over his athletic body and Kira rushed to assist him back onto the stool. There was a bottle of soothing eucalyptus oil sitting right on the counter and she scrambled to open it before shoving it under his nose.

“You’re obviously not fine. You need to go to the hospital to get checked,” she said as Yuta took the small bottle from her grip. He dabbed a couple of drops onto his hands and rubbed it on his nose and throat. “Why won’t you accept any help that’s offered to you at the hospital?”

“I’ve gone through this before, Kira. Don’t worry about me.”

“Sometimes you forget I’ve gone through this, too!” she yelled. “I don’t want you to end up on your deathbed like I was at one point.”

Yuta couldn’t argue with that. He was hired back when she was in the hospital recovering from the final stage of the dreaded disease.

“We’re all worried about you here. Mom, Jongin, Mark? And your friends— Sicheng, Ten, and Taeyong? We all hate seeing you like this!” her voice grew louder and louder with each word, causing him to flinch at the shrill tone. Deafening noises plus nausea and headaches never meshed well with him.

“You don’t see how much it hurts seeing someone you care about suffer like this, Yuta. It hurts even more when we can’t do anything to help you go through this.”

Silence filled the room.

“Have you seen Dr. Kim lately?” Dr. Junmyeon Kim was the Hanahaki specialist that Kira recommended. He eased her back into normalcy after her scare.

“I will soon, I promise,” he said through haggard breaths. She guided him through a couple of breathing exercises and it calmed his racing heart down.

Kira sighed. With a quieter tone, she said, “It’s a shame the world made us experience heartbreak this way, isn’t it?”

Yuta smiled sadly at her— it was a shame.

The front door of the shop opened and the bell rang. They both turned to see Kira’s boyfriend Mark walk in with a cute grin. He clumsily hopped over the counter to plant a sweet kiss on her cheek. “Well, at least you got your happy ending,” he muttered too low for his coworker to hear.

Yuta knew there was a chance of having it too, he was just too afraid to speak.

If one were to look at him at that moment, his features hid nothing. Nakamoto Yuta was slowly ripping at the seams with the sakura branches poking their way out of his built figure and although multiple options were given to him, he still felt so unbelievably helpless.

It was the middle of the semester when you caught Yuta wandering the halls of the main art building. A grin found its way to your lips as you saw him with his messenger bag and a tubed container slung over his shoulder. Running to catch up with him, you slipped your arm into his free one. Your classmate yelped at the sudden contact and you let out a loud giggled that echoed in the empty hallway.

You finally felt close enough to initiate contact after sharing supplies with him during one studio session. That being said, it didn’t mean you were comfortable with revealing the feelings you harbored towards him— you wanted to keep that a secret for a little bit longer.

“What are you doing here? I thought you didn’t have classes in here today,” you asked.

“Oh, it’s just you,” Yuta sighed. You felt your heart drop at his words but you played it off with a scrunch of the nose and a teasing tone.

“Were you expecting someone else, Nakamoto?” you nudged his stomach and he avoided it, already predicting your actions. Yuta held back another series of coughs, quick turning away from you to cough into the handkerchief always kept on hand. He looked in pain as he continued to hack into the small piece of cloth and you brought a comforting hand to rub at his back.

“Every time I see you, you’re coughing,” you frowned. “You really need to get yourself checked, it’s been months.”

“No, no, I promise you I’m fine,” he replied with the shake of the head, his dark hair moving along with him. Even when ruffled and out of sorts, he looked good. He attempted to clear his throat by downing some water.

Your lips pursed at his words, not satisfied with his dismissive answer. “If you say so. Promise me you’ll see someone if it gets worse though.”

He agreed but you suspected it was to stop you from nagging. “To answer your question before you went all mom on me, I was here to talk to the department about my senior project.”

“Have you decided on your theme for your exhibit yet?”

Yuta smiled wistfully, “Flowers.”

“Should’ve known— it’s always flowers with you. It’s like you’re in love with them or something.”

He let out a scoff at your words. When you shot him a questioning look, he dismissed the act completely.

Time spent with Yuta always passed so quickly; one moment you were on the top floor of the building and the next, you were already at the bottom of the staircase. Ever the gentleman, he held the front door open for you and you thanked him with a smile. His brown eyes shrunk into little slits and whiskers appeared at the corners as he grinned back with a little chuckle.

How you longed to sketch that image.

A strong breeze blew through, causing a couple of leaves and fallen petals to fly around your figures. You crossed your arms around your front to keep the cold from seeping in and shut your eyes to keep debris out. Peeking at Yuta, you saw him cover his eyes with a calloused hand and he gently pushed you behind him to use his body as a makeshift shield. As soon as the breeze stopped, his grip on your arm loosened but the grip he had on your heart was still as strong as ever.

He whirled around to make sure you were alright and next thing you knew, his hand was lingering above your head. “You have something in your hair, do you want me to take it out?”

Yuta looked down at you with cautious eyes and you just noticed how close you were. Heat radiated off his body and your cheeks as you nod in approval. One dry hand moved to delicately clutch the side of your head as the other plucked a leaf out of your hair.

Your breath hitched as his fingers ran against your skin and tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. There was a sudden pounding in your ears that matched the drumming rhythm of your heart.

“There,” he whispered as he let you go. With a smile, Yuta added, “good as new and pretty as a picture.”

“Pretty enough to paint?” you fired back with sarcasm.

“Definitely worthy of being displayed for the world to see,” he winked.

Was he flirting? It seemed like he was.

Maybe, Sicheng was right— Yuta could have feelings for you. But it could also just be wishful thinking.

Were you flirting? Is this how flirting works?

“Speaking of displays,” Yuta started nervously as he walked you to your car. He slowed down his walking pace and you easily matched it, your steps moving in time with his. The main walkway on campus was devoid of people, seeing how it was later in the school day. The path from the art building to the lot you parked in was short and you wished there was some way to extend it so you could spend more time with him.

“Will you, uh, come to my show?” he asked, his hand scratching the back of his head. His hair flopped with the wind and his unsure grin made him look so incredibly endearing. “I know it’s still too early to give you a set date but I’d love to see you there.”

“What? Of course I’ll come!” you said, stopping to slap his arm.

He winced at the contact. “Ow?”

“I would’ve gone even if you didn’t ask me,” you proceeded on the path with a smile. “I have to go and support my friends.”

There was a coughing fit coming from behind you and you whirled around to see Yuta hacking into his handkerchief again. It looked more painful than the last attack he had a few minutes ago. His breathing was shallow and he clutched his chest as the coughs continued.

“Oh my god, Yuta!” You were pretty sure you heard him gag as you rubbed his back. “Okay, I’m taking you to the hospital. You’re clearly not alright.”

He lifted a hand to tell you to stop. “No, no. I’m fine. I just—I gotta go,” was all he said with his hoarse voice before jolting away.

Staring at his strong back as grew smaller and smaller, you almost missed the fallen piece of cloth on the ground. Keyword: almost.

“Wait, Yuta!” you shouted, bending down to pick it up. “You dropped your hanke—” As soon as you lifted the handkerchief, perfectly preserved cherry blossom petals fell out of its hold. They rained towards the ground, decorating the sidewalk with the prettiest shade of pink.

Yuta was long forgotten. You were too lost in your confusion of the flowers.

“Cherry blossoms?” you asked yourself. “They’re not in season yet.”

—🌸—

Yuta heard you calling for him but he refused to turn around. He pushed himself to keep running despite the tight pain in his chest. Pulling out his phone, he sent quick text messages to Sicheng and Kira with his location, asking them to stop by and help him. The disorientation hit faster this time, causing him to tumble into a bench. He gripped the iron lining as he hurled and for the first time, it was so painful that it brought tears to his eyes. His mouth trembled as he let out a cry.

Yuta tasted the bit of blood that poured out of his lips.

Wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket, Yuta ignored how the crimson stained the fabric. A butter chuckle escaped him.

“Pink goes good with red,” he whispered to himself as another stinging pain made its way up his body.

He felt the branches slowly poking his lungs, climbing a path up his chest. It was just as Kira described— it was piercing like a sharp arrow to the heart. The arrow pressed and pressed and pressed until he was exploding with petals, blood, sweat, and tears. It was aimed to kill. He thought arrows to the heart were supposed to fill him with love, not a heart-wrenching pain that tempted him to rip the beating organ out of his chest.

This was all too much to bear.

The full flowers and the scratching of wood tickling his throat.

The lack of oxygen and struggle for air.

He felt it all. He wished he didn’t.

Yuta wished he was one of the people that found their soulmate with that ridiculous red string of fate tied to the end of his pinky. They were blessed with a lifetime of happiness while he was cursed with what felt like an eternity of agony that his weakening body could no longer withstand.

Yuta knew you didn’t love him but he adored you anyway.

This wasn’t a shoujo manga, Yuta knew that. This was real life. No one was going to kiss, kiss, fall in love with the blink of an eye.

Picking petals off of flowers wouldn’t solve his problem. He wished it did, though.

If only it was that easy.

The rest of the semester flew by quickly with midterms and mid-semester projects keeping you at bay. You barely saw Yuta, yet alone the rest of your friends, if not for your classes. All of you shared the same appearance: dark circles, eye bags, sunken cheeks, hunched backs, and glazed over eyes. Your group survived the weeks with a crazy amount of caffeine and not enough food.

With the school year finally over and graduation season starting, that meant one thing for the college of fine arts at your university— exhibitions. The music and dance departments already had their concerts and showcases. Final showings of the theatre department’s newest production just wrapped up yesterday; the only thing left were the senior art exhibits.

Dressed to the nines and not at all like a struggling artist, you paced back and forth at the entrance of the student art gallery with a bouquet of irises in your hand. Sicheng, your emotional support for the day, stood as you walked the same path with annoyance. You couldn’t exactly pinpoint why you felt nervous— it wasn’t even your exhibit, it was Yuta’s.

Ten and Taeyong wrapped up their exhibits the week prior; Yuta’s was the last one.

“Are you done freaking out? Can we go in now?” Sicheng cocked a brow at you with his phone in hand. “The others are already inside.”

Wringing your hands together, you took in a deep breath. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Sicheng rolled his eyes before opening the doors to the gallery. Stepping inside, you were immediately welcomed by paper flowers of all sorts hanging from the ceiling and the quiet chatter of the gallery’s visitors. To the right, you saw a sign displaying the exhibit’s name: Efflorescence. A brief description of the exhibit was placed below it and you took the time to read it before stepping further in.

Snapshots of his life told through the appearance and language of flowers.

Ten and Taeyong, your seniors and close friends, were waiting for you off to the side.

“Sorry for the wait, you guys.”

Sicheng grumbled, “Took her long enough to calm down.”

Ten laughed, “Were you nervous for him? You weren’t like this for our final exhibits.”

“Oh, leave her alone,” Taeyong hushed the other two. Wrapping an arm around you, he pulled you close, “She’s nervous because this is her crush we’re talking about.”

“For heaven’s sake, say that any louder and he’ll hear you!” you screeched. The boys chuckled at your embarrassed state as you went ahead of them, ready to walk your way through the large room. From the corner of your eye, you saw Yuta smiling by the exit, surrounded by people singing praises about his work.

You weren’t in a rush— you wanted to take the time to appreciate every piece before talking to him about why he chose to display each work. Talking to the object of your affection could wait.

The first few paintings were of his childhood and the flowers that accompanied each scene all had similar meanings— innocence, purity, etc. You noticed that most of his paintings were done with watercolor, which made complete sense.

It seemed like he was always prepared to paint something, brush and paint always at the ready. The genius basically carried his foldable watercolor palette and pad everywhere he went, not wanting to miss an opportunity to paint a beautiful picture if he were to pass by one. That was another thing you admire about him— Nakamoto Yuta saw beauty in everything.

Deeper into the gallery, you found more familiar scenes and faces. There was a landscape of the fine arts department, with daffodil petals scattered across the canvas and it was titled New Beginnings. You passed various portraits of your friends, their beauty rivaling that of their birth flowers that shared the same space. Marveling at how realistic his paintings looked, you made a note in your brain to relay that thought to the artist later. He captured the essence of each person perfectly in a painting, breathing life into it, and you honestly couldn’t understand how one could do that.

Spotting Kira’s familiar face admiring a painting up ahead, you quickened your pace to catch up to her. Feeling the light tap you placed on her shoulder, she turned around with a surprised look that turned into a genuine smile upon seeing your face. She released her hold on her companion, a cute boy with doe eyes and bright smile, before giving you a hug.

“You’re here!” she squealed. Taking notice of the flowers in your hand, she winked, “Irises, huh? Nice touch.”

“I stopped by your shop beforehand looking for you and an older guy wrapped them up for me,” you smiled sheepishly. “Should’ve known you would be here and not working.”

“My brother, Jongin,” Kira said. “And of course, I wouldn't miss Yuta’s exhibit for the world. He’s done a lot for me and my family.” She shared a fond look with the boy next to her and he squeezed her hand in return.

“This is my boyfriend, Mark, by the way,” Kira gestured to the boy next to her.

“Yo, nice to meet you, dude,” Mark extended his arm out towards you and you gladly took in your hands to give it a shake. You laughed at his casual greeting; it was charming.

“Back at you, dude,” you giggled back.

Turning to take a peek at the picture they were admiring, you couldn’t help but break out into a wide grin. It was the two of them with the flower shop as their background. Yuta had painted Kira seated on top on the counter, eyes closed with glee and hands clutching a small bouquet of blue flowers. Mark, on the other hand, leaned towards her with fingers gripping the table top and looking at her with a loving smile.

You could feel the love pouring out of it and it warmed your lonely heart. “Wow,” you whispered.

Kira leaned her head on Mark’s shoulder and he placed a tiny kiss to her temple. “I’m buying it from him once this is all over,” she said.

Knowing each flower played a part in Yuta’s paintings, you tried to distinguish what flowers she clutched in her hand. “They’re cornflowers,” Mark answered the question that lingered in your head.

“Why cornflowers?”

“Oh those things put us through a lot— a little pain sprinkled in with their beauty,” Kira smiled, leaving Mark to chuckle lovingly at her comment. It felt like a secret between the two of them and you were invading in their space. “They were what got us together in the first place.”

Her sentence made you cock a brow. How could flowers be painful? That was awfully cryptic, even a little unsettling but it sounded a little familiar to you; it was on the tip of your tongue.

“Yeah, they’re pretty special,” the boy grinned, gaze still glued to the person wrapped under his arm. “Cornflowers are my favorite.”

“They’re starting to become one of mine, too,” she returned the look.

Mark’s bright brown eyes were shining with the love you wish someone had for you. It was a sweet sight, to see such a young couple in love. A part of you was jealous that they found a love like that so early in their lives while you pined after an artist that was so infatuated with flowers and their meanings.

Wanting to leave them in their moment, you excused yourself with a smile. There were only four paintings left to see.

The first was a design you recognized. It was a more detailed painting of the sketch you had seen Yuta draw on the first day of the semester. A girl was seated on the grass, leaning her back on a trunk of a cherry blossom tree. Her hands were outstretched to the sky, trying to catch the falling petals in her hand. Stealing a glance at the title, Yuta titled the piece, Wishful Thinking.

Moving to the next piece, it was a close up of Yuta’s hands. His palms were pressed together, cupping cherry blossoms in his hand. Petals and full flowers were scattered around the canvas, filling out all the empty spaces. The bright pink stood out against the color of his skin. You admired the amount of detail this piece had— the wrinkles on his skin, the gradient found on the petals. It held your interest, leaving you to wonder what this piece titled Inside meant to him.

Yuta’s self-portrait was showstopping. He borrowed the flower shop’s name, calling this piece For You in Full Bloom. The painting brilliantly depicted him in all white, his eyes closed with pain and hands clutching at his throat. The blossoms were spilling out of his mouth, the petals tainted with a blood red. You could feel the sadness and the suffering emitting from the picture and it pained you to see such a vulnerable depiction of him.

Putting two and two together, you figured it out.

Hanahaki. You had read about the disease before, one of the artists you admired had it. They created art as a way to tell their story. It was their escape from the suffering, a way to ease their pain, and the one course of action they took to be remembered after their death.

The only piece of information you lacked was who made him tolerate such pain.

Skipping the last painting of the exhibit, you made your way through the crowd to find Yuta. He stood at the end with a polite smile, thanking everyone who attended his exhibit. Onlookers were showering him with compliments, leaving you to wait until the small crowd cleared out.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” you breathed out with a concerned look. You couldn’t even spit out the name of the disease.

His smile widened into a genuine one, eyes gone soft at the sight of you. “You made it.”

Spotting the irises in your hand, he gestured towards the bouquet. “Are those for me?”

Still in shock that the person you were in love with was suffering all this time, you handed them to him without a word.

“Irises mean ‘congratulations,’ nice choice,” he laughed, trying to steer the topic away from his illness.

“Who?” you asked. “Who is it?”

Cocking his head, he answered you with another question. “You didn’t see the last one, did you?”

Shaking your head negatively, Yuta took you by the hand and the feeling made fireworks explode in your chest. Your heart was beating rapidly as he led you a few steps away. Nodding his head towards the last frame, he whispered, “Take a look.”

You felt his hand break out into a sweat and you wondered why this last one made him so nervous. Glancing at the title, you read the words Love Me Now.

Taking a deep breath, you mentally prepared yourself to see the person who had a hold on Yuta’s heart. Unlike him, you thought yourself strong enough to take the heartbreak— after all, you weren’t the one with flowers blooming inside you. Shifting your eyes over, you gasped as soon as you spotted whose face was framed on the wall.

Staring back at you was the most beautiful painting of yourself. It was a you that you had never seen before. He painted you in flourishing pastels to match the happy look on your face. He captured your smile lines, the curve of your eyes, and the scrunch of your nose in such detail; it amazed you beyond belief.

There was movement in your hair, the strands swaying in the wind along with the petals behind you. Your hands held a branch of your favorite flowers, half of them covering part of your face.

Captivated by seeing yourself through someone else’s eyes, you couldn’t tear your gaze away.

“Your smile makes flowers grow in my chest,” Yuta’s voice came from your side. You turned to see him wear a strained smile. Yuta’s huge eyes that were usually filled with kindness were taken over by something else— pain.

There was pain in his words and you hear the ache in his voice. His tone is hoarse, like his throat is unbelievably dry or irritated.

“I— I don’t know what to say.”

Everything was extremely overwhelming.

He shook his head to tell you that it was okay; he just needed to get the words off his chest. “It’s so beautiful and enchanting and it makes my heart clench and flowers take over my lungs.”

“Cherry blossoms,” you found yourself saying. You couldn’t believe this was happening. There were words you wanted to say but you were struggling to find them.

“Sakura,” he repeated in his native language.

“My favorite flowers.”

“Your favorite flowers.”

“You were never in love with flowers,” you stated, still in a state of shock.

Yuta released this low, almost bitter sounding chuckle that comes from deep within his chest. “Never.”

“Then, you’re in love with—”

“You.”

“—me.”

Just like the artist you admired, Yuta painted his way through his pain of loving you.

Nakamoto Yuta felt like he had been in love with you for the longest time. He had loved you before he could even muster the guts to let you know it, to invite you to this exhibit that displayed art dedicated to you.

He really hoped that you would show so he could take the chance to confess. Sure, you had promised but sometimes, people never intended to keep them. If he didn’t get it off his chest, he would never be able to breathe and Yuta desperately wanted to.

Yuta wanted to fill his lungs with breaths of fresh air and just breathe you in. That was all he longed for.

“Oh,” was all you could breathe out.

“It’s okay that you don’t feel the same,” Yuta tried to comfort you, getting the wrong idea from your lack of words. “I just needed to let you know.”

The sharpening ache that became so familiar to him was building up in his chest again, preparing him for the worst. Yuta swallowed thickly, already feeling the petals working their way to his mouth. His airways began restricting, his breaths growing more haggard by the second. He had so many things to say and he was determined to let it out before the petals escaped. The words spilled out his mouth, his lips running like a motor, “I used to be afraid of being in love and being happy with a person that I loved because it hurts.”

“Yuta—”

He stopped you with a lifted palm.

“Happiness never lasted with me, the flowers always ripped it away,” he explained, his trembling eyes focusing on your portrait and not the real person beside him.

“But then I met you and felt things I have never experienced before. So, I pushed my way through the pain just to be with you because I felt like I reached for the stars and touched the sky when we were together.”

His words brought tears to your eyes. You couldn’t believe someone would sit through the pain just to spend time with you nor thought you were worth it but here Yuta was, proving you wrong.

“There were times I wanted to beg you to love me, just so the hurting and the bleeding—just everything— could stop but I was too much of a coward and it led me to this.”

Here he was, pouring his heart out to you with his images and words, and you couldn’t let out a single noise. You forced yourself to move forward, to slip your hand into his. The sensation of your fingers intertwining with his brought Yuta out of his daze to look at you.

“Yuta,” you said with trembling lips. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”

“It’s not your fault,” he replied with a sullen tone. You squeezed his palm and he gave you a light one in return. “If I don’t get this off my chest now, I’ll never be able to breathe and I really want to.”

“There’s no reason for you to lose your breath over me.” A sniffle escaped you and Yuta turned to see you crying. He bent down to wipe your tears away, his finger swiping against your skin ever so gently.

“Why are you crying?”

“Because you suffered because of me and you didn’t have to,” you shot back with a whimper.

“You couldn’t have known, it’s okay,” he tried to reassure you.

“No, no,” you interrupted him to his confusion. “It’s not that.”

Your voice was so soft under your quivers, he could barely hear you over the loud chattering of the other guests in the room. Yuta guided you just outside his exhibit to a bench and dried your eyes with the sleeve of his sweater.

“What’s wrong?”

Yuta’s question made you laugh through your tears and at all the time wasted. He had been in pain for so long because he was yearning for you just as you were for him. The mutual yet silent pining took you down this route and it could have been avoided if you had just stopped being a coward and spoken up like Sicheng pushed you to.

“There’s nothing wrong,” you said with the dismissing wave. You willed yourself to look him in the eyes and bring a hand to his cheek. “It’s just that I think I’ve been in love with you as long as you have been in love with me.”

Your confession caused him to freeze in his seat. His brown eyes were blown out wide and mouth dropping in shock. Giggling as more tears fell, you quickly slide the hand cupping his cheek down to his jaw to shut his mouth closed. Running a thumb against his lips, you felt his pulse quickening at your touch.

“You’re in love with me?” he asked, voice as gentle as the breeze. There was uncertainty and disbelief behind it. Yuta wanted to hear you say it again.

—🌸—

“I’ve been in love with you for a while now.” Your earnest words were music to his ears.

He felt this comforting rush take over this body and it sent tingles down his spine, traveling all the way to the tips of his fingers and toes. Your confession worked like magic, spelling him with this high that made him soar to the skies.

Yuta thought you were a witch, entrancing him with a love charm so strong that it brought instant relief to his pain. His heart was trying to fight its way out of his chest and the ache of his airways dulled. The muscle was pounding so loudly against his ribcage, he could hear it in his ears, and he swore you could hear it too.

His lips upturned into the biggest grin, he felt like his cheeks were about to burst.

Was this how a requited love felt? If it was, he never wanted to go without it again.

Yuta rushed to pull you in his arms and sighed when you nuzzled your head into his neck. He shivered when he felt them whisper the three words he longed to hear into his skin. His body shook with laughter as he placed a lingering kiss at the crown of your head, reveling at the feeling of you encased in his hold.

You tried to fight your way out of his grip but he only tightened his arms, not wanting to let you go. The action left you giggling into his neck, causing him to squirm until his hold loosened. Your hands trailed their way from his waist up to cup his face and suddenly, his eyes were locked onto yours. Just as you were getting lost in the deep sea of brown, his gaze flickered to your lips before looking back at you. His lips quirked up as you did the same.

He felt your breath hitch as he leaned in to slot his lips against yours and the overwhelming rush returned. It seemed like his heart was racing against time, beating erratically as you kissed him so tenderly. Your lips were so soft and they tasted like the vanilla flavoring of your color, leaving him to chase after you every time you pulled away for a breath.

Yuta fought the strain in his airways as he pursued your lips again and again, loving the way you felt and tasted. He picked up the smell of your cherry blossom shampoo and laughed into the kiss. The feeling of having you was so addicting— your love was his drug and he was forever hooked on you. He would devote himself to nothing else but you.

The sensation of Yuta kissing you and smiling against your lips sent you into overdrive. There were butterflies in your stomach, fireworks going off in your head, tingles down your spine and you loved it all.

In the past, you only noticed Nakamoto Yuta’s undying love and admiration for flowers but this was the first time you finally noticed his love for you and it was nothing short of wonderful.

It was the start of something new.

🌸 author’s note— that’s it! it came out a bit more angst than i intended, definitely lacked the fluff i was expecting but i’m still satisfied with the ending uwu i loved writing my little markie and kira in the fic, i’ve missed them! but yes!! that’s the end of my little bday present to myself! i hope y’all loved it! please leave some feedback; i would love to hear what you thought of it!! i think i literally fell in love with yuta while writing this.

🌸 taglist— @danishmiilk @hyunjins--laugh @littleflowercrown13 @orange-nimon-cross @radiorenjun @ncteaxhoe @chancrispy

#cznnet #neowritingsnet #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct fanfic #nct angst #nct x reader #nakamoto yuta #yuta #yuta x reader #yuta scenarios #yuta imagines #yuta fanfic #yuta fluff #yuta angst

964 notes · View notes