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withered-primrose · 2 years

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🩰 ー 𝗚𝗢𝗨𝗔𝗖𝗛𝗘 | sabo x reader

and the only thing that remains with him is his memories of you painted on his canvas.

[ ʚїɞ ] 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: artist!sabo x she/her f!reader

[ ʚїɞ ] 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁: victorian era setting?, angst, crack english, rushed ending.

[ ʚїɞ ] 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: feeling sm love for sabo today, and i cannot stop thinking about artist sabo always dedicating his pieces to his s/o <3 though, this idea went down to angst aha. first post aswell, enjoy!

Sabo added a shade of yellow, rendering the art he’s currently working on.

You laid down on the shore, your satin parasol protecting you from the sun. The clear lake glittering from glee like you do, and he admired you from afar, like an angel unable to be reached. It has always been you, whom he got inspirations from. He added the shade of viridescent, depicting the greenland you’re sitting on, that complements the yellow polonaise you were wearing.

He added a monochromous color, putting his emotions in the painting.

At days you were a lady on duty, and at nights you were only his. You'd sneak out from your window, as dangerous as it may be but you’d take the risk, only for him. Both you and Sabo would stroll in the garden. He’d talk about his brothers while you’d talk about how much you missed him the whole day. He'd tell you how much he loves you, while you’d tell him how much you long and desire for him. If the gods ever bestow you both the time of the night, it would be more than just a simple chat. Your fingers ghostly touched the scar on his face, as he was mesmerized with yours.

Now, Sabo traces your outline with his fingers, having the phobia of forgetting what you look like. He screamed, knocking the easel down. The painting of you now all smudge and dirty. He slammed the palette out of frustration that he couldn’t get your features right.

He presented you the painting of a lady playing with the parasol by the lake. You were fascinated. For all of the times you've been secretly meeting with him, this was the first time you were introduced to his skill. So, you wasted no time to ask him to portray you on a canvas again, "Would you do the honor of painting my existence with the hues of your heart?"

His stare burned in your soul, as your figure burned in his mind. Sabo never taking his gaze away from you, memorizing every inch of you. There were only two flair in the room. There was you. And there was him. The art, and the artist; the poet and her prose. You continously ran your fingers across the piano, hitting the keys where there is rich note and harmony. He lingers at you for a moment, before reverting his attention back to the canvas, basing it with a dark tone.

There is a confining atmosphere in the room. The once tranquility Sabo felt was replaced with disturbance. Yet, he took another blank canvas, planning to redo everything from the top. But his heavy heart refrain him to do so. Thus, he only sat down and stare at the canvas with somnolent eyes.

You were once the reason why the contrasting colors harmonize together. Now, you are the reason why his work is full of monotone colors.

You were alone, crying in the garden to your heart's content when he first saw you. Fair and flawless, was the apt definition of your beauty. There was a tingling sensation within him when your eyes met his; and that, was the beginning of everything.

But you'd beg to differ. On the contrary of what he thought, you think of yourself as someone full of imperfections.

You were a lost soul, looking for something worthy in this pointless life. Then came along Sabo; putting on depiction and meaning in your abstract world.

Sabo closed his eyes, trying to think of somethingーanything that may bring him at ease. There, he saw your silhouette. He tried to extend his hands out for you, but you declined. Or was it you who really declined? He snapped his eyes open, not wanting to reminisce anymore. Though it seems like the odds isn't on his favor, he saw you standing in the corner, examining all of his artworks influenced by you. You turn to look at him with a bright smile, with a beaming eyes he once loved.

He picked up the rigger brush, sinking it halfway to the black gouache paint. He signed his signature on the right side low of the canvas, finishing off his piece. While your fingers slowed down its pace, ending the piano composition you did. "You were playing so lovely." he praised. And on the canvas portrayed a young woman with her baroque piano. The painting was well-detailed, tones and textures well defined. Even the brush strokes that were visible gave emotion to the painting. So once again you stare deeply at his eyes, asking him the most anticipated question you had in mind. To which he replied, "I have always been yours." and you even need not to ask.

There was a crimson red rose in his hand. Now that you were his, no thorn can harm both of you. He was expecting no one else besides you, there you stood before him like an alluring statue meant to be displayed in a museum. But only for him to admire. Sabo led you to his humble art gallery, yet filled with big dreams.

You were the response to his dreams.

Art is beauty; and beauty is feeling. Amongst these masterpieces in the room, he only stared at you and nothing else; you were the art to his eyes.

Amazed you were at that day, and Sabo made sure to bury this moment in his memories.

The air feels heavy. Nothing around him makes sense. He can see you everywhere, it seems like you have been waiting for him. He tried not to let his illusions provoke him. He isn't crazy, he just believes in love that made him a fool, that's all. He snapped again from his hallucination, trying to fixate at the canvas in front of him. And from his vision he saw a lady in white, dancing along the pond in a one starry night. Water lilies accompanying her, fireflies illuminating her.

Sabo had turned you into art, the idea of you now living forever.

At the night both of you lived the moment as if tomorrow stored nothing for you and him, he held you tight, now dreaming for the future. "Shall the blues ever try to damage you, I will be there to paint it over with the warms of my love." the stars witnessed the oath of this young man, that you giggled at his archaic way of words. "Sabo... Remember not to make promises when you're happy." And to your response he laugh, "My dear, it is not a promise but a commitment."

In his mind, your face looks distorted. Subtle voice echoed throughout his head. Times like this, you'd pull him into your touch with words of reassurance calming him. You lived for him as he lived for you.

Now that she whose reason he was living for is long gone, not even his artworks made sense. Sabo turned to look at the other side of the room, wherein a portrait of a lady he loves until this day hanged on the wall in a picture frame.

Until this day, and maybe even in the future, he could still see the horror in your face. He could still hear the horror in your voice. If only he had been careful. If only he had been by your side. He could've saved you from the macabre coup in that one night.

In that perilous night, many dreams and even hopes were torn apart. It felt like the able to express himself was taken away from him; and in that perilous night, you were taken away from him.

That was the beginning that ended everything.

Now, you live in the memories you encraved in his mind, that he painted on his canvas.

#sabo x reader #sabo x you #one piece #one piece x reader #op sabo #x reader #fanfiction #one piece fanfiction #one piece angst #one piece x you #angst #sabo #one piece sabo

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