#I even got a few to grow in a container indoors this winter | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hajimesh · 3 years

Text

𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙡 — pro! oikawa / fem reader

after visiting oikawa's family, you both spend a relaxing weekend at an exclusive onsen—enjoying the warm bodies of water. but what starts as playful banter, turns into him reminding you why you love him and no one else.

⥅ word c. 2,273

⥅ warnings. brat/sub reader, brat tamer oikawa, intercrural + semi-public + water sex, degradation (mild), dumbification, daddy kink, pet names, aftercare

⥅ author n. my piece for the @bbthots-underground nsfw mini collab !! thank u @tsumue for literally giving me a plot to work with, u saved me<33 and @chibi-chanforever + @crescentsteel for taking the time to beta read ♡

dense layers of white snow coat the wooden rooftops, the sunlight reflecting on them which brightens your surroundings. you can’t help but marvel at the blinding sight before you, a breathtaking scene worthy of the title ‘winter wonderland’.

oikawa did warn you about how winters in japan are cold, but you weren’t expecting it to be this cold. thankfully, the warmth of the onsen wraps around you like a comforting blanket as you bask in its water. it’s in moments like these when you’re thankful for your boyfriend’s remarkable career and popularity, allowing you to enjoy most of the luxuries that are handed out to him on a silver platter.

a well-known onsen in the prefecture of iwate offered him a weekend getaway for two, and after spending the holidays with his family, the two of you agreed that you deserved a few days just for yourselves; to relax and enjoy each other’s company before he got busy again with his volleyball duties. the place is almost empty since you got snowed in after your first day, which stopped the usual flow of tourists, and save for the staff —who have been nothing but attentive to your needs and very respectful of your privacy— you and oikawa have the place all for yourselves.

your favorite part has to be the private rooms: spacey, indoor baths framed by glass windows that allow you to gaze at the dazzling white snow from your spot inside the water—the warm water soaking your skin and seeping through your pores, as it relaxes your tense muscles.

oikawa’s arms are wrapped around your waist, pressing his chest to your side and hiding his flushed face in your neck. his usually fluffy hair lies flat against his forehead thanks to the humidity in the air, and before you can think twice about it, your hand pushes it back—away from his handsome face.

“this is nice, isn’t it?” he murmurs on the skin of your shoulder, placing a faint kiss on it.

you hum as your eyes switch from the falling snowflakes to his form, “i missed spending time just with you.”

a comfortable silence settles between the both of you, his breath fanning over your neck while your head rests on top of his.

“my family loves you,” he breaks the silence after a few minutes, “i think even more than they love me.”

you recall the way his family teased him, —all in good fun, of course— telling you that you still had time to escape and find someone better. so, after noticing the way he huffed out the words, it’s only natural you decide to play along with it.

“and i love them more than i love you.”

his hold on you tightens, a low chuckle escapes his lips, making the hair on your body rise.

“we both know you don’t mean that,” his lips trace the sensitive skin of your neck, reaching your jaw and pressing a light kiss on it, “right, love?”

“mm, i don’t know. maybe i do.”

you feel his arms growing limp against you, a rush of coldness grazes your side as he moves away from your body. you’re about to complain when his hands grab you by your waist and turn you around so you can face him.

“say that again,” he challenges.

his usually relaxed face is gone, a stern look taking its place instead. but the faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips spurs you on all the more.

“i love your family more than i love you,” you say, and lift your chin in defiance, watching his eyes fire up at your reply.

before you can even imagine what’s going on through his mind, an involuntary shiver runs down your spine when his hands move upwards, his fingers grazing the skin of your breasts.

“no, you don’t,” he states, his face leaning closer to yours, “and i’m going to tell you why since it seems like your dumb little brain is getting fogged up by the vapor.”

your breath hitches at his words, excitement running through your body as he looms above you.

“feel this?” he asks rhetorically, the pads of his thumbs rubbing circles on your nipples, “i don’t even have to touch your pussy to get you aroused. or am i wrong?”

you’re so lost in his eyes, the lustful look in them taking your breath away plus the sensation of his fingers tweaking your erect nipples, that you’re unable to think of a coherent answer.

he chuckles, releasing one of your nubs to caress your damp hair away from your face, “can’t even talk right now, huh? where did my brat go?”

your lips part, about to defend yourself, when he captures them with his. the kiss is messy, wet, his tongue immediately prodding between your lips in search of yours. a weak sigh leaves your mouth, his hand settling on the back of your head to keep you in place —to ensure your lips stay locked with his— while the other travels down your body until it reaches your throbbing clit.

he swallows down your squeal of surprise when his pointer and middle finger start massaging your clit in slow circles. if you had to describe his ministrations on you, you’d label them as thrilling and erotic; clouding even more your already hazy mind.

with a gentle bite on your lower lip, he finally pulls away from your mouth. but he’s still close enough for your breaths to overlap one another. you involuntarily buck your hips against his fingers, wanting —needing— more of his touch.

“patience, baby. i haven’t finished my explanation yet.”

oikawa takes a seat on one of the steps, the water reaching just below his waist, and proceeds to pull you between his legs. you try to sit down but he keeps your hips up, accommodating his erection between your thighs, so you place your hands on top of his to steady yourself.

“here’s another reason why you love me: no one pleases you like i do,” he accentuates his statement by thrusting up, cursing under his breath when your soft skin rubs against his length, “just as no one else can make me this hard, only you. is that what you wanted to hear?”

“tooru,�� his name leaves your lips in a breathless way, your foggy mind filling with lewd images of him.

you can imagine his parted lips and the way his brown irises focus on you through half-lidded eyes, following every single one of your movements.

“yes, baby?” he coos and all you can do is whine. a twinge of tenderness swirls on his chest at how obvious it is that you’re enjoying it, “use your big girl words, sweetheart. i know this might be too much for you, but i need you to tell me how you feel.”

the head of his cock rubs between your thighs, grazing your slit slightly and providing you with a smidge of the pleasure you’re longing for.

“g-good, feels... so good.”

he stills for a moment, observing you closely while his hands cup your breasts, “now, can you tell me who do you love the most? or do i need to keep reminding you?”

before you can think of an answer, his thrusts suddenly pick up making your ass smack against his thighs as his fingers play with the soft flesh of your chest.

“tooru, i–”

the words die on your tongue at the sudden stimulation, your head rolling back and whimpering when his fingers give a harsh pinch to your hardened nipples.

“my dumb little baby, becoming stupid as soon as i play with your body,” he breathes out the words on the back of your neck, struggling to maintain his composure. your eyes cross at a particular thrust, at the same time his chest vibrates with his deep laugh, “that’s another reason why you love me. only i can get you to lose all coherent thoughts, making you my dumb little cumslut.”

a groan leaves your lips at the name, wanting nothing more than to have him inside you and filling your pussy with his thick cum.

“you crave it, always needy and wanting my cock inside your cunt,” he kisses your back, bending on top of you so he can hold you closer.

“i-i need you, please,” you turn your head to the side and your eyes meet his, “please, daddy.”

he stops as soon as the name rolls out of your tongue, a shiver running down his spine and making his cock throb between your thighs. he loves having you at his mercy, to see his cock-hungry baby begging for him.

“what is it that you want, princess?”

“daddy’s cock,” your pouty lips look so enticing to him that he has to stop himself from shoving his length inside your mouth, “i n-need it so bad.”

“alright, since you’re finally starting to use your words.”

he releases his hold on you and makes you face him, climbing on his lap and wrapping your legs around his waist as the flushed tip of his cock grazes your folds.

“we can’t be too loud, okay?” he slowly eases himself inside of you, and a moan threatens to escape your mouth at the delicious stretch, “don’t want anyone to hear how gorgeous my princess sounds as she gets fucked. only i get to hear it,” he growls in your ear.

your jaw falls open, your eyes closing in pleasure when he finally bottoms out “ohh, daddy. s-so big.”

he hisses at the way your walls flutter around him. he lifts you up from his lap, leaving just the head of his cock inside, only to ram it back into you; and this time you can’t contain the moan that slips past your lips, slightly echoing in the room.

your eyes widen when you realize what you just did, looking into his stern gaze and knowing you’ve successfully pissed him off.

“what did i tell you?” he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest and thrusting up, groaning in your ear, “you’re such a slut, wanting to let everyone know you’re getting off on my cock.”

his pace quickens, the feel of your pussy squeezing his cock prompting him to bite down on your shoulder, which earns him a cry of pain from you. he pulls you away from him, holding your jaw in a bruising grip as he looks straight into your eyes.

“i told you to be quiet, didn’t i?” he hisses, his brows furrowing and his harsh gaze making you clench around him, “look at you, a dumb bitch so cock-hungry that can’t even follow one simple order.”

your mouth opens in a silent scream when his cock hits your cervix, “d-daddy, ‘m so so sorry! i promise i’ll be good–”

“then shut up already.”

you try to stay quiet as he keeps reaching the right spots, the pleasure too overwhelming that you end up falling limp against him. his arms circle your waist and hold you close to his chest, thrusting up into your hole and making the water slosh around you.

you’re thankful the staff gave you privacy, otherwise they’d be getting one hell of a show.

after maintaining the same pace for a couple of minutes, he slows down and allows himself to relax, resting his back on the stone and watching you bounce on top of him, the current position causing his pubic bone to brush against your clit.

you can’t help but dig your nails on the skin of his arms, whimpering when you realize your release is approaching alarmingly fast. you don’t have time to warn him of your impending orgasm before warmth fills your belly and extends through the rest of your body.

“shit— princess, hold still,” he groans as he watches you writhe on top of him, your walls fluttering around his girth and sending him towards his high as well.

warm spurts of cum fill your cunt, his hips jerking a few more times before he finally stills with his cock still buried inside of you. your pussy throbs around him, spasming and prolonging both of your highs. once you’ve both calmed down, he brushes your hair away from your face, leaning forward to kiss the tip of your nose and then capturing your lips in a delicate kiss.

his large hands cradle your face once you break apart, his thumbs rubbing the skin of your cheeks comfortingly, “are you good, princess?” he coos, lifting your face so he can see you properly.

“just tired, wanna take a nap.”

he envelops you in a hug and lifts you up from his lap, a faint whimper escaping your mouth as he removes himself from your tender walls. he pulls you out of the water and immediately covers you with a towel, kissing your forehead before fetching one for himself. once you’re both fully covered in your bathrobes, he grabs your hand and starts making his way to your room with you right behind him, looking back at you every few seconds and noticing your eyelids getting droopy.

“let’s take a nap, baby. you did so good,” he guides you to the bed once you’re in the privacy of your room. he settles himself right next to you, squeezing you between his arms as tiredness takes over you.

it’s not until you’re finally asleep when he hears you mumble the words he had teased you with, making his heart swell in delight...

...and relieved to know you love him as much as he loves you.

#tw.dumbification #tw.degradation #oikawa smut #haikyuu smut #oikawa x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #oikawa x reader smut #oikawa tooru

625 notes · View notes

burnedbyshoto · 4 years

Text

eternal love

— A simple love story between a tattoo artist and a flower shop owner. —

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

pairing: todoroki shouto x reader

warnings: fluff, cursing

word count: 10,505

a/n: so, ngl... this was something that blew up in my mind at 2 am a few nights ago and after fighting others on whether I should write it, I finally did it!!! I super loved writing this, and I hope you guys will enjoy reading it!!!! a lil fluff for the soul, have fun :D also uh, this works for @bnhabookclub‘s event so huzzah!

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

Spring was a season of renewal. The world is going back to what it once was in its beautiful glory. Baby pinks and soft greens illuminated as far as the eyes could see, the morning mist unable to freeze because of the warmth in the ground.

The gentle echoing sounds of animals, insects, and more returning to regular activity, the cold winters finally defeated. Butterflies danced in the air, birds sang in the trees, and love was in the air.

What would be perfect with love?

Flowers.

“Good morning, y/l/n-san,” an elder greeted you.

Your cheeks were already burning with exhaustion, it was only eight in the morning, and you were tired. You wiped the back of your hand to your sweating forehead, your fatigue ignored while you smiled in greeting. “Good morning!”

She stared up at you with kind eyes, her hands holding onto her cane while she cocked her head to the side, “You seem to be quite exhausted this morning.”

There wasn’t much you could say or reply with because it was true.

“Well, we finally have a whole bunch of flowers back, and with White Day approaching us, I’m trying to make sure we’re on track!” you explain, trying to fix the multiple buckets of assorted flowers that you would have outside of your store.

You were a flower shop owner.

Your entire life, you had lived a life where you had grown up working alongside your parents. This was a family business, and with your parents eldering years and you finally back from schooling, they had decided to take an impromptu trip to see the world, leaving you behind to take care of the store. It wasn’t something you minded; after all, they had allowed you to seek all of your own adventures in your life despite only being owners of a flower shop, but it was a lot of work for just yourself.

You couldn’t hire anyone to work at the store, after all, while you had never grown up to live in a moment of discomfort, it was because your parents and yourself busted your backs for this store was why it survived. But now it was just you.

Winter had been fine, the flowers never had to leave the store, but this was spring.

Renewal, return, and romance suffocated the airs of Japan, and your slow winter business was already becoming a quick and demanding spring one.

Brushing your soiled hands onto the relatively clean apron you wore, you sighed at the sight of the elder looking past you. ‘Was she that old that she spaced out in public?’ you couldn’t help but think while staring at her.

“Who’s moving into that shop there?” the elder spoke up, and you hummed, turning around to follow her extended finger.

The shop next to your family’s flower shop had been vacant for years, the last time you remember anyone being there was in middle school. Now in your early twenties, you didn’t even realize that anyone was moving in. There were a lot of men too! How you had so apparently been ignorant to their massive hustle to move things in shocked you. Damn, maybe you were past the point of exhaustion at this point…

“I… I don’t know,” you admitted, your eyes growing when you realized just how neater the store looked. They had obviously been working on repairing the store for some time now, the store was painted in a clean and crisp color, the brick walls scrubbed and glittering like new. It was pretty aesthetic.

“Y/l/n-san! Please help me, it’s my wife’s promotion day, and the flowers I ordered online never arrived!” a voice screamed from a distance away, and your attention turned towards a man who was sobbing while scampering his way over.

And even with your want to just stare at the army of men moving in machines you’ve never seen in your life, you exhaled softly, turning to face the scared customer.

“Of course, follow me!”

You bid your farewells to the elder and hurried inside, ready to create an arrangement of flowers that the customer would enjoy.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

Your exhaustion of the day never seemed to end, the spring day had brought a plethora of customers to your storefront. Many couples, new and old, are surfacing to pick out fresh bouquets together. Their happiness is charming, personalities warming and smiles ever so sweet. They always asked about how you were doing, how your parents were doing — after all, this was a tight community, and they asked about the new business next door.

You couldn’t respond to that last question, your face always burning up in your embarrassment of not knowing. There was no reason for you to not know, after all, it wasn’t as if you were ever doing anything that wasn’t running the store. There was no one to rely on but yourself at this point, but still, exhaustion didn’t mean you could miss the purchase and remodeling of the store right next door to you!

Soon it was nine at night, the now empty wooden carts that were once outdoors dragged back indoors of your store. You took count of your sales today, grinning to see that you had managed to sell everything you had put out today except for a few leftover peonies. You moved back towards the door, ready to turn the Open sign to the Closed side. But you paused when you saw three men walking out of the neighboring shop.

Your eyes focused on the three of them talking comfortably. You had no idea what they were saying, but still, you concentrate on them, curiosity getting the best of you. They talked for a while while you continued to peer through the glass on the door, the conversation must have been lively considering that one of the men was laughing so frequently you almost wished you could hear what they were saying. But alas, eventually, they embraced, and two of the three men entered the large truck that had been parked in the alleyway practically all day and left.

Frowning, you saw that the man was still standing out there. He was unmoving, looking at who knows what with his hands stuffed into his pockets. The night was dark, and the lights on the street did little to help you create what he looked like in your mind. But with a passing car, the soft light illuminating the man with the gentle headlights, you got a clear image of him.

Well, it would have been clear had your guts scrambled into a knot at the sight of his own eyes piercing into yours.

He had noticed you.

With a loud cry, you dove to the floor, your hands pressed against the cool wood while you thought about your next plan of action. Would he come and confront you? Stalking people like this wasn’t cool in the slightest, and if he wanted to walk over and ask you about it, you wouldn’t be able to lie in the slightest. You knew that about yourself. Or maybe it was just you freaking out? There was a solid chance that this was just you freaking out, right?

Your palms sweat while you pushed off the floor, your body trembling as if you were the starring role of some American horror movie. Sucking in your air, and with a hammering heart, you peeked through the glass. No one was out there.

Sighing in relief, you were grateful to believe that it was either your imagination that he stared at you, or he just didn’t care. But still, even with the exhaustion weighing heavy in your bones, you knew you owed him a greeting. Your mother would have your head when she returned if you didn’t. Plus, it helped that the pink peonies still sat in the bucket, their petals still strong and firm, beautiful and lively.

With a nod, you walked over to them. Grabbing the peonies, you organized the delicate flowers into a full and lush looking bouquet. You hoped that he liked flowers, and wouldn’t mind the kind you gave him, primarily because you couldn’t provide him with anything else. Nevertheless, you wrapped the flowers in a tan paper and walked out, ready to give your greetings to a newcomer.

The store felt a world away while you walked towards it, and upon stepping in front of the store, it stole your breath away.

It was a tattoo shop.

Tattoos in Japan were no longer being associated with the Yakuza, years of trying to get everyone to accept this western practice by the younger generations had finally succeeded. Tattoo shops were blooming in numbers across the country, and it seemed that your area was no different.

The outside had large windows, and without even entering the shop, you found it to be quite classy indoors. This wasn’t at all what you were expecting from a tattoo shop! You had always assumed that it was black, something similar to the gates of hell feeling. But with the sign not claiming it was closed, and the store hours showing that it was open until eleven at night, you pushed past the doors. You were glad to see that your pink peonies would make a generous splash of color in the darker colored storefront.

“Hello?” you called out, your voice ever so softly echoing against the unoccupied room. “Is anyone here?”

Cringing at what you said, you groaned. If there was no one here, would that make you a criminal? Oh god, please don’t let that be true! But if there was no one here, why would he leave with the lights on and the door unlocked?! How stupid—

“Can I help you?”

Oh fuck, you’re screwed, was all you could think at first when you turned towards the black curtained hallway.

The man who stood there was tall, his shoulders wide, and legs firm. His arms — which were covered shoulders to wrists in tattoos, his right side containing only black inked tattoos, and his left in the most colorful ink you’d ever seen — were defined with muscle, stretching the fabric of his dark grey t-shirt.

A line of piercings down the cartilage of his ears, identical on both sides of his head. His hair, however, was something you’ve never seen before. Half white, half red, with an undercut and detailed shavings at his temples, it was currently held back with a thin black headband that exposed his eyes to you. He was heterochromatic, you could tell immediately by the piercing blue and dark grey eye color he held. But there was nothing to disguise your reaction when you saw the tattoo — scar? — that covered his eye like an overlarge eyepatch.

There was no smile on his face, just a quirked eyebrow and his lips set in an unamused frown.

“Is that a tattoo?!” you asked your jaw to the floor. Your fingers touched the place where the red skin on his face would be on your own.

“No,” he responded after a beat, his eyes were unbelievably annoyed. Obviously, not at all amused by your intrusion and rude words. “It’s a burn, but again, can I help you, or are you just going to stand there and stare. Not that you look the type to get tattoos, though.”

“I do have piercings, though,” you couldn’t help but defend yourself, your skin feeling like it was burning under his gaze. “But okay, yes. I mean, no! No, you can’t help me because I’m not here for your services.”

His gaze on you only seemed to intensify, a fire and ice storm erupting in his eyes while you wanted to punch yourself in the throat. Good god, be normal.

“I’m your neighbor! Well, I guess I can give you my name. Y/l/n y/n at your service,” you try, your hands thrusting out the peonies in your grasp. His gaze didn’t drop to the flowers, not even a twitch of an eye, which only coursed anxiety through your blood. “I’m the owner slash, not the owner of the flower shop! I hadn’t noticed you ever moving in except today, so I felt super bad! Um, so I just wanted to stop by and say, well, welcome! And uh, well… I just felt bad! These are peonies.”

“I know what flowers those are,” he responds, but his gaze remains unfazed.

What the hell was his problem, you thought, the hairs on the back of your neck rising as if you were being confronted by a deadly predator and not some stupid hot tattoo artist with a bad attitude.

“Oh, cool! Most people think they’re roses for whatever reason,” you laugh, looking at the flowers, your shoulder shrugging.

“I also know they’re the only flowers you had leftover from your sales today,” he spoke again, and your face twisted when you returned to his gaze again.

“Excuse me?”

“I was outside when you were pulling all your carts inside, and they were the only ones who weren’t sold today,” he shrugs, his arms crossing before his chest. The muscles on his arms only seem to expand at this, the ink dancing across his skin, forming new images in your mind while you feel like punching him in the jaw. “Is that what you feel about your new neighbor? I’m deserving of day-old flowers that you were unable to sell?”

“Of course not!” you exclaim, the frustration in your blood climbing while you held his stare. “I mean, are they new and super fresh flowers, no! But they haven’t even wilted yet because I know how to take care of my crap! I just finished the winter season where flower sales are always less than favored, so sorry I couldn’t toss you a thousand yen bouquet!”

There was a silence that floated across the room, his eyes staring into yours, and you could do nothing but stare back at him. Your shoulders rag with your uncontrolled angry breathing, what a fucking asshole he was! Who did he think he was?!

“Well, I guess I’m sorry to hear that you’re broke,” he sighs, finally taking strides over towards you. There’s a part of you that yells to leave the store immediately, and an even larger part of you that screams to step at him too, throw him off his trail! But in your indecisiveness, he stands before you, taking the flowers from your hands. “Todoroki Shouto.”

“That is so obviously not my name,” you roll your eyes, your arms folding across your chest.

There’s a small huff of air from the man, his eyes looking at you full of judgment and the smallest bits of amusement.

“Oh!” you gasp, your hands covering your mouth.

“I’m Todoroki Shouto,” he tries, his eyebrow lifting again, his lip trying perking into a smirk. “But, thanks for confirming we don’t have the same name.”

If there was a god, he would shoot you from this world at this very moment; your fists shoved into the pockets of your apron.

“Okay,” you agree, your lips pursing in your horrible, horrible attempt at masking your hurt pride. “Well, I am utterly exhausted, so I am going to leave now. Have fun with your dumb tattoo shop, Todoroki-san, I am… going to sleep.”

You turned on your heel, ready to run from this shop like the devil was hot on your heels.

“Well, see you around—” he responded, your hands pressing onto the door to leave— “Y/l/n.”

The ringing of your blood in your ears heavily outweighed his voice because you didn’t even stare at him as you continued to walk down the pathway to reenter your shop. Maybe it was a good thing you didn’t look back because had you, you would’ve seen Shouto’s fingers caressing the pink petals of the flower, and his lips moved to say one thing.

“Welcome.”

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆ One ⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

It had been a week since you had seen Shouto. The new tattoo shop seemed positively overwhelmed by new customers, countless amount of young people filing into their appointment times, and the few days he had free hours. It, fortunately, did bring you new crowds of customers. Friends and couples alike bringing in the warm spring air into your shop while they bought flowers in commemoration of their new tattoos.

There was no stopping this, it seemed.

“Thank you for your service, please come again,” you called out after the giggling and slightly tipsy group of girls who happened to be your last customers of the day.

Today has been a good day.

You weren’t at all exhausted, in fact, you felt relatively light on your feet still despite it being 8:56 p.m. Since it was so late at night, and with the knowledge of there hardly ever being last-second customers you started cleaning up for the night. But as you grabbed the broom, the familiar bell of the entrance of the shop rang in your ears.

Sighing, you dropped the broom and turned towards the counter, “Welcome!”

The figure at the door shocked you, it was Shouto. He stood there with his fingers hooked in the loops of his black jeans, and the white v-neck did nothing to conceal anything about his tattoos or his dumb muscles.

“Hey!” you smiled, the smile on your face as fake as the festive flowers sitting on the counter — the ironies of working at a flower shop.

“I’m looking for recommendations,” Shouto admitted, his strides stopping him before you. “It’s one of my friends' birthdays coming soon, in a few weeks. He doesn’t like getting presents, but he likes flowers. I was hoping you could help me out here.”

Your jaw drops, words failing you seeing the way that his hair falls so elegantly between his eyes. His eyes are concentrated on the pre-arranged flower arrangements demonstrated on the table as samples and you cough.

“Uh, yes, do you know any of his favorite flowers?”

“No, he’s not really that open about his interests,” Shouto admits, his shoulders shrugging,

“When do you need the arrangement?”

“His birthday is April 20,” Shouto says, a sigh on his lips while he looks up at you. “I’m not sure if there was a time requirement to request things, especially given that you work here alone.”

“I do not work here alone!” you cry, your blood sparking in a fury. “I mean, yes, right now I do, but it’s not always like this! I’m just being a good child and letting my parents have the travels of their lifetime!”

Shouto hums, his face unconvinced, but he seems a bit perplexed, “Did I do something that first night to you?”

That takes you entirely off guard, “Excuse me?”

“Well, after the first night we officially met, you have avoided me very well.”

“I-I’m very busy with this store!”

“I walked out of the store to pick up supplies while you were speaking with your own customer. I saw you run into the door, trying to make your way back indoors.”

“You saw that?!”

“A lot of my friends say I can come off coldly at first, and I know that it’s true, and I’m trying to work on it. I, myself, was exhausted that day too because we put the entire shop together in a single day, so I let myself slip up,” Shouto admits, and you can feel your face beating in time with your embarrassed pulse. Why was this so hard? “I haven’t had the time to come over since opening, so I’m trying now.”

“So the birthday thing is a fake way to get me to talk?” you asked, your lips twitching in your losing battle to keep from smirking.

“Yes and no,” he smiles softly. It almost takes you by surprise, the smile seemed too gentle, too sweet to be on the face of someone who looked like they’d murder you in an alleyway. “I’m not that incompetent to know that I have a few weeks to give until I really need to get those plans under wraps.”

There’s a laugh that bubbles in your throat, and you sigh, unbelieving of what he was doing.

“You’re kind of weird,” you tease, untying your apron for it was now long past the store's open hours. “But since you’re not a customer, I will be asking you to leave at once.”

“But—!”

“No exceptions! I can’t be seen playing favorites, the elders will gossip,” you firmly state, moving from behind the counter to shoo him from your store.

“I want to buy a flower then,” Shouto insists, pulling out a leatherbound wallet.

Your eyes narrow, lucky bitch.

“What flower would you like?” you ask. Your customer service smile painted on your face.

“Do you happen to have any ajisai’s?” Shouto asks, and you think.

You did have some!

Nodding, you pointed your finger towards the pack where small bouquets of ajisai’s sat. Shouto nodded, walking over and grabbing one and making it back.

“That’ll be seven hundred yen,” you say the moment he arrives back.

“The sign said six hundred,” Shouto points out.

“You have me seven minutes over closing time, it’s my gratuity tip,” you tease, grinning when he places seven hundred yen down. You focus back on the cash register, inputting the last sale into it and fixing up the computer before returning your attention back to Shouto, who was staring at the flowers in his hands.

“Here,” he says, thrusting the flowers into your hands and walking away before you could yell at him.

The pink-tipped flowers sat in your hands, ajisai — or hydrangeas — were small and delicate flowers, but they were stunning in your eyes. Rolling your eyes, you put the flowers next to the fake festive ones and went to clean up, the small smile on your own face irreplaceable as you cleaned up.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆ Two ⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

In the following weeks, you and Shouto had begun a strange friendship of sorts. Your breaks during your lunch and dinner times were accompanied by Shouto, who was always over at the time. The tattoo shop was doing exceptionally well, and because of that, he even had other artists there with him, and just gained an official piercer. They were a great crew, all bright and caring people who often had you laughing on the rare occasions you visited his shop. But Shouto always had his time slot blocked out during your breaks, and he would come over with snacks and opinions for the two of you to discuss.

He was definitely an odd person. He was very open about a lot of things, almost too honest. In weeks, you knew more about him than some of your own childhood friends, and you had been involved with most of their stories! Todoroki Shouto was someone to admire though, he was brilliant, a person who never failed to make you smile with his often idiotic tendencies.

He was smart but dumber than a rock.

But as the two of you grew comfortable, there was one thing itching at the back of your mind, the one question you always had when you saw people with tattoos.

“What do your tattoos mean?” you couldn’t help but ask, your eyes shining while looking at his arm that was poised high to deliver the cold soba noodles into his awaiting mouth. “I mean, I know there’s a lot, but one side is colorful and bold, and the other is simple and beautiful.”

Shouto finished the noodles on his chopsticks, his lips soaked with the oils on the noodles. “Do you want to know about a particular one?” he asked, resting the chopsticks down and extending his arms for you to see.

You leaned forward on the stool you were sitting on, observing the lines that created the art on his skin. You were fascinated by both sleeves, and he had incredible artwork on both sides of his arms. There was also some hidden motif behind each side, fire versus ice… But which one to ask about first?

“Can you just tell me why you have two sleeves that are starkly different?” you asked with a curious glint of your eyes. “I mean black ink on one side versus only color? Is there a reason, or was it just something that happened by accident?”

“Oh, there’s a reason for it,” Shouto adjusted on his chair, clearing his throat while he extended his arms. “You can tell just by looking at me, but my left side is what I’ve always associated with my dad: the red hair, blue eyes. My right side is something that I connect with my mom: the white hair, grey eyes. Colored tattoos are always more painful, they tell a very exact story. There isn’t any room for argument because it is seen in one way and one way only. You can deceive, and you can hide, but the truth is there. When I got my first tattoo, I still hated my dad with everything I had, and I wanted to cover every part of my body that I could that would erase him from me. Which is my left side. And like colored tattoos, he was painful, exact, and unchanging. My right side is black ink only because things become confusing, discerning, unknown—” his fingers trace the curving lines on his right arm— “you don’t know where it starts, where it ends, but it’s ever present. It’s comforting because it can change with how you need it to change. You can have other fills in its blanks, to piece together its story, but it has distinct intentions. It’s strong and adaptable.”

You take in his words, unable to think of anything but absorb his words. There’s a soft understanding to his tattoos. Once done in defiant, spoke stories of not only who he was, but who he is today.

“Okay, so I know I’m just a super lame florist, but what do you think about me getting a tattoo?” you asked, your teeth biting into your lower lip with your confusion and hope. “I mean, I’ve never really wanted one before, but that was because of social stigma and all, but seeing yours and your friends all the time… I’m curious.”

Shouto’s brows raise; he doesn’t say anything; however, studying your face.

“What are you thinking about in particular?” he asked his eyebrow scrunching, his head tilting to the side. “Anything at all?”

You blew a raspberry, your hands pressing to your lap, your shoulders falling to your ears.

“I like symbolic things a lot,” you admit with a shrug. “I don’t think I could ever get a sleeve tattoo, so I want it to make sense and have meaning to me. Like… I don’t know a sakura blossom, but maybe not that? I don’t know!”

Shouto laughs softly, the sound pleasant on your ears while you thrash your legs like a child.

“Well, I think I can help you at the very least draw you something,” he suggests, a hand offered out in a deal. “I am a tattoo artist, after all.”

“I’m not sure if I can trust you,” you playfully scoff, your arms folding across your chest while you shake your head. “I might doze off under the needle and wake up to a walking penis on my back!”

“A penis?” Shouto repeated, an award-winning smile gracing his face while you huff, your laughter failing at being masked.

“It’s what happened in middle school to people caught sleeping! Didn’t it happen to you?”

“Not at all.”

“Right, you rich kid middle schools were a breeding ground for far worse. What type of prepubescent hazing did your school do?”

“What makes you think there was hazing?”

“How could there not be!”

The doorbell chimes in the distance and the lively debate is over when you check the time, it was time to reopen it seems.

“I’ll figure out what you did back as a pubescent child,” you promise, watching as Shouto rises with you, his own alarm going off. “But would you really draw me a tattoo?”

Shouto nods, following you out to the entrance of the shop, “I will if you ask me to.”

Uncertainty sits in your stomach, you weren’t sure if it was something that you wanted right now, it had, after all, come up as a moment of trying to create conversation more than being an honest truth. But if it was something that Shouto drew for you, maybe you would.

“I’ll let you know if I want it,” you promise, your eyes closing with your warm smile.

Shouto hums in agreement, his head nodding once. He seems to hesitate for a bit and ultimately walks over to where there was a gathering of flowers and picks out a single himawari. Your eyes narrow in silent teasing when he walks it over to the counter, his hands already reaching for his wallet.

You accept the change, giving him back what you owed him, and was once again shocked to see him resting the flower in your hands.

“For you,” he smiled, his shoulders shrugging.

“You’re so weird,” you wrinkle your nose, still accepting the flower from his fingers with a bright smile. “Thank you for the beautiful himawari.”

“Mm, you’re welcome,” Shouto nodded, slipping on the beanie he had removed upon entering the warm flower shop. “See ya later, y/l/n?”

You nod, waving as he left to which he graciously flipped the sign for you to read that you were once again open. “Bye, Todoroki-san!”

Himawari flowers, otherwise known as sunflowers, always filled you with warmth and love. A flower that is known to be a personal sun on this earth without ever once providing a shred of warmth. There was no denying that it was beautiful, but you shook your head, leaving it on the table in the hallway that leads to your home above the shop. You’d dry and press it once the day was over.

Yes, you decided, that’s how it was going to go.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆ Three ⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

“I always forget the wedding season is a thing! Stop looking at me like that, and please help me!”

Most people would never expect to see a community staple member who ran the flower shop to be on their hands and knees, holding onto the ankles of one of the most intimidating and newest members of the community while they begged for help. Well, to be honest, no one could even consider what you were doing to be begging. It was a full-on psycho messy bitch cry for help.

“I said I was going to help you already, what else do you possibly need from me?” Shouto groaned, his vans clad foot trying to wiggle you loose from his ankle. “...don’t tell me.”

“Well, you know what I’m asking then!” you whine, your eyes welling with tears at Shouto’s straight face.

Your face had an array of dried petals on your face, dirt caking the undersides of your fingernails, grass, and leaves in your hair, and desperation reeking from your face.

“My parents still aren’t back! My friends are all busy living their own lives too far away to help me properly, and you’re the only person I trust! You’re a tattoo artist, you have to have a delicate hand, right? Please help me and let me use your crew too, I promise I’ll pay!”

Shouto groans, managing to kick you free from his foot, and pulling you up to your feet so that the noisy people watching would hopefully leave. “If you want the others to help you out, you need to ask them. I’m not going to force them to do anything.”

Your eyes blow wide, excitement simmering in your cells while your hands grip onto his biceps for support, and his own hands rested on your hips.

“Really?! You’ll let me do that?!”

Shouto breathed heavily out of his nose, took a second to recompose himself before letting that small smile appear on his face. The grateful squeal that left your lips was something that shocked him, Shouto won’t lie, but it was the hug you threw around his neck that had him stumbling. He watched in a frozen trance as you stormed into his shop, arms waving animatedly above your head while you explained your need for help to his employees. He didn’t follow you in though, choosing to instead watch you from outside the shop because it was his break right now, and he wasn’t going to be spending it inside the shop.

You returned with a smug smirk on your face, dirt-smudged on your cheek while you nodded your head in victory.

“Well, it looks like I have a team,” you say with a mock casualty. “I am, what the cool kids call, persuasive.”

A weird feeling floods to the tips of Shouto’s fingers at your words was this… annoyance? There was no reason for him to be annoyed that his friends would be coming over to help you. You needed the help. So what if you wouldn’t be talking to him and only him.

“Persuasive, or annoying?” Shouto tries you, and the way you focused on him in your flustered state was enough for a small chuckle to escape his lips. Before you could respond in defense to your persuasive tongue, he was already en route towards your shop. “You wasted five minutes of my break, please don’t waste the other ten.”

He wasn’t sure what made him grin more, the loud cry of “you’re an asshole, Todoroki-san,” the childish stomping coming from behind him, or the cheerful laughter that soaked your tongue at your own silly antics. But still, the grin became a soft smile when he turned to face you, the shop door in his hand while he held it for you.

“After you.”

“Damn right, after me.”

“You guys are actually very good at this,” you marvel, peering over Shouto’s shoulder, watching as he and his coworkers assembled the vase of statement flowers.

Todoroki Shouto, Kaminari Denki, Shinsou Hitoshi, Midoriya Izuku, and Bakugou Katsuki.

Five equally large men, decked out in tattoos and piercings, with a punk look to them sat pinched together on tables meant to hold more than five men dainty arranging soft pinks and white-colored flowers with your princess pop music blaring in the background. It was very different to how they were in their shop, but it amused you to see them like this.

They were a group of childhood friends who apparently all had the same dream and worked together to make this tattoo shop. Shouto, being the most wealthy of them, had been the name signed on all the papers, explaining the reasons why he was the one you had first met those many nights ago.

But with five different weddings coming up at the moment, you were more stressed about getting these things done and fast. The good thing, however, was that it seemed most of them were striving perfectionists.

Shouto, Bakugou, Midoriya, and Shinsou were all on top of it, having only needing you to explain the arrangements once for them to get it. Kaminari took two tries, but he was also very, very social, and took his time. They were a bizarre dynamic, but it was something you enjoyed.

“Damn right we are, this shit is so fucking easy,” Bakugou responded back, shoving yet another completed arrangement your way. “And why are you just fucking staring at us? Why aren’t you helping?”

You hummed, grabbing the completed vase, and placing it with the others from this particular wedding. “Because I already met my quota, and I can’t pull out the other arrangement until you guys are done.”

“Oh, there’s another one?” Midoriya asked, handing you a completed vase.

“Well, if you guys don’t mind!” you feel your face heating while they were finishing up their final vases, Bakugou snatching some of Kaminari since he had more leftover. “I just didn’t expect you guys to haul these so quickly! And well, there’s just one left I have to do!”

“We are amazing,” Kaminari says, twirling a stem of baby’s-breath in his fingers. “I can see why you were so eager to sign us to your shop. “I make perfect commentary, Shinsou has that calming effect, Deku is sweet and kind, Shouto is obviously the closest to you, and Bakugou.”

You blinked, as did everyone else, staring at the blond who wove the baby’s-breath into the arrangement with a soft touch. Wasn’t he going to finish that sentence?

“And I what?” Bakugou growls, his ears tinging red with his annoyance.

“Hm?” Kaminari perks his eyebrows, his gaze lazily resting on the ash blond. “Oh, no, that was it!”

There was a loud screech of the chair against the floor, and Midoriya was holding back Bakugou while Kaminari screeched, hiding behind Shinsou.

“Here you go,” Shouto sighed, handing you the prior arrangement for this wedding batch.

“Thank you,” you smile gratefully, the sounds of the raging war between Bakugou and Kaminari fading into background noise while you hold Shouto’s gaze. “For all of this too, you guys are keeping me from a countless amount of all-nighters.”

“Well, as long as they don’t wreck your shop, then I guess the payment will be okay,” Shouto sighed, not bothering to even look at how Midoriya was losing ground on keeping Bakugou back.

“As long as there isn’t any blood or teeth on the floor, I’ll give it to ya,” you grin, gesturing with your head for him to follow you.

While you and Shouto had gone to get the final wedding arrangements, Shinsou had managed to get Bakugou to calm down and sit. This arrangement was simple, and there were only twelve of them you needed to make, and before you knew it, everyone was leaving, waving as they went. Only Shouto stayed behind, helping you put away the chairs and the tables, while also setting the flowers into the freezer until they would be collected.

It was almost midnight by the time the two of you had cleaned up the shop, and Shouto leaned against the counter while you sprawled onto the floor, exhausted.

“I think,” you mumble, exhaustion fluttering through you. “I think Imma just, sleep here.”

“I’m not going to let you do that,” Shouto sighs, walking over to you. “You’re bordering disgusting right now, and you need to shower before sleeping.”

“I’m not trying to impress anyone right now,” you point your finger at him definitely. “I think I can become one with the ground right now.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Shouto decided, pulling you up to your feet. Something that made you groan and press your forehead to his chest when you got you up. “Come on, let’s go. I’ll walk you to your stairs.”

Snorting, you shake your head, pushing him away, “No, it’s okay, I was just being annoying. Besides, I need to lock up down here once you leave.”

Shouto frowns, but he doesn’t move to argue with that, because it was true.

“I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning!” you insist, smiling sweetly up at the man who was wearing one of your bandanas.

“Okay,” Shouto finally agreed, moving towards the door.

When you got to the door, ready to see him out, Shouto paused.

He turned to you, his head tilting, and your lips parted to question him, but before any words could fall from your tongue, he raised his hand.

In his hand, he rested a pink arusutoromeria. It was most definitely a leftover from one of the arrangements statement flowers, but it sat daintily in his hand. Under the moonlight, it was almost ethereal in his hold, and you felt a small warmth build in your cheeks.

“That’s called stealing from my clients, ya know,” you tease, the exhaustion in you dying the moment you took the flower from his hand. “I’m going to have to take this out of your paycheck.”

“Don’t pay me,” Shouto insisted softly, his lips peeking into a half-smile. “I would’ve helped, even if you hadn’t asked.”

“That’s ridiculous, I wouldn’t have let you,” you shove his arm, but he went unmoved. His two-colored eyes shining in mirth while continuing to stare at you.

“I know,” he whispers, his gaze holding yours. “Goodnight, y/l/n.”

“Goodnight, Todoroki-san.”

Shouto licked his lips, his face wincing just the smallest bit before shaking his head, “I think you can drop the formality, we’re passed that.”

You didn’t have time to react, only whispering his last name while he exited your shop into the nighttime. But you looked down at the arusutoromeria, otherwise known as the Alstroemeria Peruvian lily. The peachy and pink waxy petals smooth under your fingertip, but it made your heart warm.

Shouto really did pick the most beautiful flowers.

But why was it always for you?

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆ Four ⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

“The shop isn’t open today, Todoroki-chan!”

Shouto turned around to see two elders watching him while he had failed to open your shop’s doors.

“Oh, thank you,” he thanked them, bowing in greetings. “Do you know why? Y/l/n didn’t mention anything yesterday?”

“We do, actually! The park hosts the summertime festival, and they’re in charge of the floral arrangements you see going on there! Y/l/n might be there right now!”

Shouto nodded, the banners that had been advertising for the said festival had been up for the past two weeks.

“Thank you,” he said, leaving the two elders to themselves before returning to his own shop.

Today was a busy day, and since he wasn’t going to have time to spend his break with you, he decided he’d just move on to his latest client. Ignoring the questionative and gossiping look of Kaminari, he called on the girl who was here for her last touch up.

He’d go and see you when you returned.

It was three in the morning when you were finally back at your shop. Festivals were indeed something of exhaustion. You spent six hours putting up flowers all over people's booths and stalls in order for things to look beautiful. Then when the festival began at three in the afternoon, you’d be in your own booth handing out single roses, lilies, and tulips to lovers, friends, and family who wanted to cheer others up.

Flower sales have always confused you. Flowers, after all, were almost pointless since most of them were bought without the roots and soil. You were gifting something that was on the verge of death that wouldn’t last longer than twenty-one days if you were lucky. But you couldn’t complain, on the other hand. The people’s faces that exploded with affection and love after receiving the flowers made it worth knowing that these dying presents had meaning to them.

But festivals by yourself were hell.

Restocking the flowers, handling the money, trying to give out the flowers all by yourself had proven to be a handful. This was at the least a two-person job, and with your parents still not returning anytime soon, it was hard. You couldn’t ask anyone to help you because everyone you knew who would accept your money to work had to work until late today too.

But you had survived, as you had been for the past few months. So when you tiredly stabbed your key into the air, trying your best to get it into the lock, a sudden noise scared you.

Turning towards the sound, your tired eyes widened upon seeing Shouto walking out with a young woman next to him. She was tall, grand, and even with your tired, dried out, and blurry eyes, you could tell she was beautiful. You saw the way that politely and effortlessly giggled, her dark eyes warm and sweet while she talked to Shouto.

And Shouto, how you had entirely missed him today. But he was obviously enraptured by this woman, his facial features looking kind and sweet while they talked.

A weird feeling tightened in your stomach, what the hell was that? You blinked multiple times, your head muggy and far too foggy for your liking. This wasn’t your business, you thought, finally succeeding in opening your shop door. But with a strong pull of the wagon you had, you watched in horror as the top bins clattered to the floor.

You hauled the wagon in, desperate to get out there and get the remaining fallen items off the floor. You thought having eaten only breakfast today would have rendered you unable to be as stupidly strong as you were at that moment. But as you went to pick up the boxes, you saw Shouto approaching you, his hands shoved into his pockets.

“Oh, hey, Todoroki!” you laugh, trying to lift the boxes, but you were failing at it. “I didn’t see you all day, how are you?”

Shouto shrugged, his lower lips jutting out slightly too.

“Good, I didn’t realize you were working for the festival, all day at that,” he admitted while moving to help you. “How’d it go.”

“Well,” you think about it, watching your friend take the boxes from your hands and holding them with ease despite your own fumbling. “I, um… it was hard.”

Shouto listened to you while you explained how you handled your booth on your own. How this was one of the busiest festivals your city hosted and how you hadn’t had time to relax since the festival began at three. He listened to you without making any input of his own, the occasional chuckle from hearing about entitled customers, or customers who thought buying a red rose for someone they were going to break up with was a bad idea.

Cleaning up with Shouto with you was relaxing and welcoming, his presence was always one you received, and after a long day, it was sweet and soft.

But while in his explanation as to who the lady — Yaoyorozu Momo, as he named her — was doing at his shop so late, your stomach wailed in hunger. Your face burned in embarrassment, your appetite finally remaking its appearance.

Shouto chuckled, finding glee in your horror before nodding towards the hallway that leads to the staircase of your home. He had been up there a handful of times now, and he smirked, “I’ll make you something since we didn’t eat together today.”

“How can I trust you’re a good chef,” you ask, despite already making your way to the upper level of the shop, ready to stay up even longer with Shouto.

The next hour is spent with the two of you eating and talking. The conversation between the two of you is light and flowing smoothly. You’re on the couch with him, a blanket on your laps while you rest your head against his shoulder.

“Tell me about your tattoos,” you mumble, your exhausted body feeling warm and safe against his right side.

“Which one?” he asked, shifting his left arm towards you so that way you could continue resting on him.

“Any,” you sigh, your fingers brushing against his wrist. “They’re all beautiful.”

So he does.

Shouto tells you about the special ones first. The fire on his left wrist, the ice on the right. They were his first tattoos, something he had associated with himself since he could remember, but a symbol of how they were both significant parts, equal in their fury, but gentle, beautiful, and healing when needed. He had dizzying patterns on his right side, something he had always acquitted to being his more assertive side. The designs were distinctive and almost dizzying to look at, but each pattern he had drawn, each twist and turn meaning something. The black ink was daunting, powerful, and reserved. He even admitted to letting his friends color in the spaces where you could still see his pale flesh, it was something that he enjoyed because even being as old as he was, the childlike entertainment never left when someone did it.

His left side was stunning though, every color in the rainbow melting and mixing on his skin. This side was artistic, bold, a creation of vibrant dreams, and they warmed you up while he explained every secret behind them. He was scary on this side if you couldn’t find the outlines of each clashing drawing, but up close, with your breath gently warming his skin while you peered at his skin, you realized just how gentle it really was. It wasn’t scary or overwhelming. It was quiet, warm, and a soft gesture to who he used to be, and who he was now.

The two of you were close friends, nothing could ever say otherwise, but as the two of you lay on the couch together, you positioned between his legs, your head laying on his chest. Sleep was a mere kiss away when you snuggled into his chest, your finger pressing against the t-shirt he wore.

“I think I’m ready… for you to draw me up a tattoo… do you think you can surprise me, though? I have no ideas…” you mumbled into his chest.

“Of course,” Shouto responded back, and before you could blink, the world turned dark, sleep consuming you in a gentle embrace.

You weren’t sure if you imagined the feel of his soft lips on your forehead, but when you woke up the next morning, you were alone. The blanket was tucked around you, pillows resting under your head, and a flower sat on the coffee table before you.

A kaneshon.

A carnation.

Your cheeks warmed at the sight of it, knowing immediately that it was left behind by Shouto. Grabbing the flower within your fingers, you pressed the sweet-smelling flower to your nose. If he continued doing this, there was no stopping the way you felt towards him.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆ Five ⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

Two weeks later.

“So, what do you think of this?”

You were sitting in Shouto’s private room where he had his tattoo appointments, you were by the wall, sitting on a stool by a desk where he was showing off his tattoo design for you. It was stunning; honestly, it had everything in the world that you could be asking for.

Simple, elegant, and sophisticated.

It fit your personality, hopes, and dreams.

It was perfect.

“Wow,” you barely managed to breathe, your fingers touching the sketch he had presented to you. Was feeling it okay? You hoped so.

“Do you… do you like it?” Shouto asked, his eyes trying to read your face, but failed to see how you reacted because he was behind you.

“This is amazing, Todoroki,” you shake your head, pulling back to stare at your friend with a great smile. “I mean, I know I said I wanted you to draw me one, but I wasn’t expecting you to make it so… personalized to me.”

“...you’re special to me,” Shouto admitted, his body both relaxing and tensing under your gaze. “I had to make this special for you.”

“Well, you sure did!” you agree with a laugh, your cheeks warm with your grin. “But how much will this be?”

“4,000 yen,” Shouto answered with a straight face.

You laughed in his face, remembering that all their starting prices were much more than that, “Come on, don’t be ridiculous. How much?”

“I wasn’t lying,” Shouto confirms, his gaze unwavering. “I like you a lot, and you mean a lot to me, so I’m giving you a discount.”

Your jaw drops, you’re unable to speak, words failing you with every breath. “A discount, not a free tattoo.”

“It’s not free, I’m still making you pay.”

“Yeah, and even I know that price is absurd!”

The two of you argue for some time, the money you throw down on his desk is immediately slammed back into your wallet. You feel close to victory; that is, until Shouto threatens to make your tattoo actually free. To that, your lips twist, a defeated look in your eyes while you huff.

“Fine,” you spat, turning around ready to leave the shop, given that your break was nearing its end.

“Y/n,” he calls out suddenly, and the way that your name sounds on his lips makes you shiver. He had started to call you by your given name as of late, and to hear his warm and deep voice say your name made you wonder why you two hadn’t done this earlier. After all, the two of you were too close.

“Shouto?”

He looks ready to speak, his tongue wetting his lips while he stares at you, unsure what to say to what to do.

“What did you think of the kaneshon?”

Two weeks later and he had finally spoken about the flower he had left behind.

“It was beautiful, I loved it,” you smiled in return, but you didn’t miss the way that his eyes seemed to cloud at those words. Obviously, those weren’t the words he wanted to hear, but what was it that he wanted? “Another flower to add to my collection.”

Shouto’s lips quirk into a smile, and you watch while he reaches behind his bench and pulls out a tsubaki. You’re silent as he walks it over to you, pressing the gentle stem into your hand.

“For you,” he whispers, and you can feel your heart hammering in your ears at how close he is. The dim lights of his room, the smell of ink, bleach, and, most importantly, Shouto sending your blood into a craze.

Kiss him, your brain told you, but you were frozen, too busy counting the number of eyelashes he had.

“You didn’t buy this from me, what are you doing helping my competition?” were the words that came to your mouth instead of the confession you so wanted to give.

“No,” Shouto laughs softly, and he adjusts his position almost to give you dizzying fantasies of him kissing you. “I’m growing them, actually.”

“Oh, so you’re my competition,” you tease, and Shouto sighs, his eyes rolling and nods.

“Yeah, the tattoo shop was a decoy to us becoming the best flower shop in all of Japan.”

“Sounds like I should be worried.”

“Oh, you should.”

There was no denying the fact that the distance between your bartering lips was disappearing, but the shrill beep of your alarm destroyed the space between the two of you as you stepped away. You had an appointment to get to after all.

“Um, dinner?” you ask, stumbling to the door. “Sounds good?”

Shouto nods, his lips in a small smile, “See you then.”

With the camellia clenched tightly into your hands, your blood boiling in your destroyed passions, and the sounds of the others saying goodbye while you left, you felt weird when entering your flower shop, one thought running repetitively in your mind.

You had feelings for Shouto.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆ Six ⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

You twirled the akaichurippu in your fingers.

It had been two months since you worked out you had feelings for Shouto, one week since he had given you this flower, six days since he started avoiding you, and two days since your parents had finally returned home.

With the three of you now running the shop, you were able to relax a whole bunch more. Your parents had returned on a honeymoon mode, their gazes wistful and in love, finding it almost hard to readjust to the life they had left behind for a year. It had been a year since you had met Todoroki Shouto, and you were baffling in love with him. But you had done something obviously because he was avoiding you like the plague.

He hadn’t been over in six days, and they had been such lonely days without him. Of course, once your parents had come home, it had been grossly lively with their romantic sighs and glees, but it didn’t do much to qualm the Shouto sized hole in you.

Stupid Shouto, stupid feelings, stupid everything.

Tossing the flower onto the counter, you sat up from your slumped state, watching as your dad swung your mom in a circle. Stupid parents with their stupid love, you bitterly added while puffing out your cheeks.

“Wow, what’s that look for!” your dad caught on immediately, staring at your unamused form. He trailed his gaze down to the red akaichurippu, otherwise known as the red tulip, while your mother stood up herself.

There was a shocked gasp coming from them both, and you watched as your parents approached the counter like excited children, the flower being picked up by your mother.

“Who gave you this?!” your mother asked, her eyes sparkling in glee, and your dad seemed conflicted in the same delight, and distinctive stern dad look.

“Shouto,” you sighed, your eyes rolling.

“The one that’s ignoring you?”

“The very same!”

“That’s strange,” your dad’s eyebrows furrowed, his head tilting. “He’s just next door, and he doesn’t seem to be going anywhere anytime soon… why is he ignoring you after giving you the eternal love flower?”

You froze.

“I’m sorry, what?!”

“The red akaichurippu flower is the symbol of eternal love,” your mom explained as if it was basic knowledge. “They’re much more romantic than a boring red rose, in my opinion. You’re also a florist y/n, why don’t you know these meanings or intentions?”

“Oh my god,” you said in horror, and you stood up, racing upstairs to grab the flowers you had dried and pressed. The flowers he had given you throughout this year.

Your parents were shocked when you slammed down the book with flowers, your fingers shaking excessively.

“What do these mean,” you demand, your fingers shaking while you point at the different flowers.

“Ajisai: apologies and gratitude.”

“Himawari: adoration, loyalty, and longevity.”

“Arusutoromeria: devotion, loyalty, ‘I like you,’ friendship.”

“Pink kaneshon: affection.”

“Tsubaki: humility, discretion, and perfect love.”

Red akaichurippu: eternal love.

“I have to go!” you yelled, racing out of the store, the ringing bell and following shouts of your parents doing nothing as you ran into the tattoo shop.

“Shinsou!” you called at the purple-haired man who was staffing the front desk, obviously having no scheduled appointments today. “Is Shouto—?”

“No, he’s taking his break right now,” Shinsou smirked, his eyes full of amusement, which spoke to his knowledge of what was going on. “You can go in.”

You smiled and went down the hallways of the tattoo shop that you knew intimately. You could hear the buzzing of the tattoo guns going off in Bakugou and Midoriya’s rooms, the light chatter that came with passing Kaminari’s room until you made it to Shouto’s room.

It was quiet inside, and as you opened the door to step inside, the flower in your hand feeling heavier than lead when you saw Shouto sitting at his desk, eating cold soba slowly.

“Shouto?” you called, and Shouto didn’t move, obviously ignoring you.

“Come on, don’t ignore me,” you plead, moving towards the bench only to have him turn towards you, his eyes blank, cold, angry, and burning through you when he faced you. So maybe he wasn’t ignoring you? “Okay, uh, thank you for looking at me, but I need to explain something to you!”

“Make it quick, my break’s done in two minutes.”

A cold sweat erupts in your body, and you thrust the red tulip out.

“Eternal love,” you say quickly, your body shivering at that statement, and Shouto looks at you, then at the flower, then back at you.

“Yeah, I knew that already, idiot.”

Your jaw drops, and the smallest bits of annoyance pricks at you. You often forgot what it was like to be under his calculating words and not being at his side, laughing at the victims of his words.

“Okay, well, I didn’t,” you continue on, your fists dropping at your side, annoyance, fear, happiness, and love flooding through your body. “I’m a florist, I know that. I have lived my life as the child of florists, and I have taken on their trade, but one thing I never knew about was flower meanings.”

“What?”

You shake your head, your gaze dropping to the flower in your embarrassment, “I’ve never known any flower meaning outside of funeral flowers, the red rose, and spider lilies, but that’s because of the culture behind it, not necessarily because of the language of flowers. And I was mad at you today, so I had this flower out, and my parents who do know about flower language told me what this meant, and every other flower you’ve bought for me… I didn’t realize you were confessing to me using flowers… I didn’t ever expect a tattoo artist to know the meanings! Had you been a florist yourself, then maybe I would have thought to look up the meanings behind the flowers, but I just assumed it was you picking flowers out because they were pretty.”

“Flower tattoos are popular,” Shouto breathes, his eyes swimming with flashing emotions while he rises to his feet. “It’s sort of my job to know the difference. I mean… you brought over peonies that first night, and they’re a flower you use to welcome other people, so I figured you knew.”

“No,” you laugh breathlessly. “I only picked those out because they were the only flowers I had leftover from that day… I guess you would make an amazing florist after all,” you chuckle, your heart hammering in your whole being while he stepped closer to you. “I’m a blunt person, straightforward confessions are the only way to deal with me.”

“Most blunt confessions have always ended with rejection from me,” Shouto states, his fingers grabbing onto your waist. “That tends to scare people off.”

“Try it with me,” you whisper, your fingers resting on his broad shoulders, the shiver under your skin electrifying as you knew what was happening.

“I’m in love with you, y/l/n y/n,” Shouto grinned, and you didn’t give yourself a chance at responding because you slammed your lips against his.

It was a passionate kiss, one that had your back arched into him, the flower falling from your fingers and onto the floor. Heads tilted with your dancing lips, and fuck was every gentle caress of his lips, sending your mind in a whirl.

More and more, your lips slanted against each other, and there was no say as to what was going to happen next. You pulled away, a galaxy in both your eyes and a desire, a promise for more when he would meet your lips again.

“Shouto, your three o’clock is here!”

The two of you froze, and you laughed, your lips meeting his that sought after yours for the kiss was too short.

“We’ll talk later.”

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #todoroki shoto x reader

1K notes · View notes

theseathatsparkles · 3 years

Text

On Bugs

so for creative writing class we were told to imitate Amy Dillard’s writing style. This is the essay on bugs that I ended up making. Not Bleach, I know, but I thought someone might enjoy it.

This took so long to write oh my god ;-;

also, I am fully aware that not all insects are bugs, and that spiders aren’t either of the two, but. bug is much more fun to say.

Word count - 1500 on the dot

@despairforme THE BUG ESSAY. IT’S HERE. @onenicebugperday you inspired me to write a four page essay about bugs i hope you’re happy

When I was in third grade, I dropped a dandelion down the back of my classmate’s shirt. She was upset, having thought the rather inconspicuous dandelion was a daddy long-legs spider. She’d screamed, slapped me on the chest in an attempt to escape her arachnid harasser, and had decided to wage war against me for the rest of our time together in school.

I never was afraid of spiders the way she was. Spiders and snakes and all sorts of bugs, so long as I could be assured they weren't poisonous, had always held a special place in my heart - and, more often than not, my hand. Growing up in woody, wet Germany gave me a healthy dosage of ladybugs, crickets, and snails at a young age, and I never looked at a bug with anything other than fascination.

It’s the middle of winter, now. There aren’t many bugs around. Forty-two little silhouettes in the light above my desk, but none of them move, empty exoskeletons like shells. They’re probably dry, and if I touched one I’m sure it would crumble under my fingers. There seem to be more of them every time I look up; it’s the middle of winter, so the warmth of the indoors must be especially tantalizing. Right now, there isn’t any wind outside, but the world seems to be painted in shades of grey. Even looking outside makes you feel cold, and the drifts of iced-over snow outside of the window just emphasize this.

I have mixed feelings about winter. I love the snow, love having an excuse to stay inside wrapped in blankets on the days I don’t have school. I love that there aren’t mosquitoes to follow me around - I must taste good to them, since they always seem to swarm me. But the lack of the bugs I do like - spiders, caterpillars, grasshoppers, even the jeweled dragonflies that swarm our canoes in summer - makes winter feel especially harsh.

When I’m feeling more grey than usual, I turn to the internet to soothe me. My computer has a tab open - one nice bug per day. The third picture that appears on image search is a gorgeous skeleton leaf moth, the row under that containing a domino cuckoo bee. I smile, looking at the pictures. A photo of a hissing cockroach wearing a tiny paper party hat jumps out at me, curled around a leaf. I click on the picture, save it to my gmail by emailing it to myself. I’ll take some time to admire them later.

The bigger the bug the better, of course. Small bugs are hard to track, and the idea of one getting somewhere without me knowing about it gives me chills. That’s probably why I hate ants; they swarm up your legs and into your shoes and socks and it takes far too long to extract them all, and you feel phantom itches on your body for the next day or so.

The fear of ants is called myrmecophobia, and often goes hand-in-hand with entomophobia - the fear of insects. When I was young - still in Elementary school, at a time before my decision to quit soccer - I’d practice with my mom in the field a bit southeast of the elementary school tucked at the base of the mountain pass. The playground had been north of us. I always wanted to go back to the playground. The whole complex had been a good half hour’s drive from my house, so we didn’t go there often, but it had an excellent jungle gym and some new swings. It got hot easily, out there under the sun; if I didn’t bring water, the ninety-degree weather would feel twenty degrees hotter, the sort of heat that makes you lightheaded and grumpy.

But my mom had told me to play soccer, and she wasn’t the sort of person who you could say no to easily. I tried, of course, in futile attempts that would end with me in tears and my mom seething, but always ended up on that field, kicking the ball back and forth as my mom chastised me for skipping to the goal. Skipping, apparently, was slower than running.

I’d hated soccer.

It was one of those days that solidified my fear of ants. Wyoming doesn’t have fire ants or most other nasty biting bugs, so I was never in real danger, but that didn’t stop the whole experience from being traumatic. My mom, of course, had laughed about it later; it seems to be a habit of adults to take the irrational fears of children lightly. The ants crawling up my leg had probably been just as afraid of me as I was of them, but knowing that didn’t help any. Adults will tell you that the shark that bit off your arm was just as afraid of you as you were of it, but that doesn’t change the fact that your arm’s gone.

I’d been unlucky enough to step right in an ant nest, the sort that stays hidden by the short grass until something, or someone, disturbs it. It hadn’t looked different from the regular ground from my five feet, but the moment I felt a tickle on my leg, I knew.

I’d screamed. I think anyone would have screamed when confronted with one of their worst fears, so I never was ashamed of my reaction, even if I’d hated the exasperation and faint amusement on my mom’s face. The ants had come right off, lady fortune smiling on me that day, and I hadn’t found any tiny ant corpses in my shoes when I took them off that afternoon - a rarity; ants always seem to turn up in unexpected places post-encounter. I’d been paranoid, though, and had hopped around on one foot until I was a safe distance from the nest before shoving my hands down my socks to search for any lone ants. There were none.

I refused to resume play until I was positive there were no ants on me, of course. Even when we started the game again I was wary, taking light steps and watching the ground like a hawk for any sign of another insect. It had taken the fun out of the game pretty quickly, and we went home soon after.

The internet goes out for a moment, and the photo of the mantis I’m looking at shifts to a grey screen. I frown, take a second to stand up and stretch. My legs and shoulders are especially sore. By the time I sit down again, my picture has loaded again, and I scroll to the left to see a swallowtail butterfly looking out of the screen at me. They have yellow fur around their eyes and antennae, and look vaguely curious. This picture also goes to my saved folder to look at later, and I keep scrolling.

When I was in second grade, we studied bugs in science class. Not extensively; there’s only so much work you can get done as a scatterbrained second grader, and bugs weren’t on the top of my list of priorities. But we studied them, and after a few weeks our teacher imported seven Madagascar hissing cockroaches to be our class pets.

Nobody in my class was afraid of them; I think we were too young to be afraid of something as hideously cute as those little insects. They remind me of pugs now, disgusting in the sort of way that makes you want to coo over them. We’d kept them in a little glass terrarium in the back of the classroom, and took them out during lunch break and sometimes to sketch them during art. Our teacher had told us how to tell the males and females apart, but the information had gone straight in ear and out the other, like water through a sieve. There are two things I can remember about them now: first, that they would shed their skins sometimes and we’d have to clean out their terrarium; second, that if you poked their heads, they’d hiss.

The second thing was the most important to my little second-grade brain. My classmates and I took great satisfaction in poking the cockroaches and watching them puff up and make little hissing sounds like air coming out of a tire. They’d always make their funny wheezing sound, and we’d sit there for minutes on end - the longest amount of time our young minds could stay on track for - and tap them, giggling uncontrollably as they got progressively more frustrated.

I like bugs. I’m no entomologist, I would never spend my days in the wild watching them through magnifying glasses. But I still like them. Their colors remind me of spring and summer, and I love their size - perfect to pick up and put on a fingertip. They’re much more simple than people, never worried about money or jobs or politics. They have no worries, no fears.

I would love to be a bug.

#Sparkles writes #not Bleach #bug #bugs #insects

36 notes · View notes

livingcorner · 3 years

Text

12+ Ways to Make $1000 a Month from Your Garden (Year Round!)

They say when you do what you love, you’ll never work a day in your life. Well, I love my garden and given a choice I’d be out there amongst my garden beds day and night. There’s a big difference between gardening and farming though, and while I love my garden I’m not cut out for the life of a farmer.

While bringing in a full-time gardening income is a bit tricky, making a side income from your garden is easier than you’d think.

You're reading: 12+ Ways to Make $1000 a Month from Your Garden (Year Round!)

Most people see gardening as a seasonal endeavor, that starts in the spring and ends in the fall, coming and going each year. Up here in Vermont, our summer growing season is only a sad 100 days or so, and if I confined my efforts to those short months it wouldn’t make for much of a side hustle. I think it’s important to find a way to earn a consistent side income, so I’m providing options for every month of the year (even in a cold climate like ours).

Beyond that, our land is mostly forested, which means the definition of “garden” is a bit loose. We grow mushrooms in the shady spots and tap maple trees in season. We also forage the wild bounty that nature’s garden has provided, meaning that we don’t have to limit our “gardening” to a small tilled section of the yard.

Even if you’re lacking space in a small suburban lot, expanding outside of the traditional garden into local parks, or taking your garden indoors with salad sprouts, closet mushrooms, and seedling trays will allow you to make use of the space you have year-round.

Here are a few options to earn a substantial side income from your garden every season of the year, with ideas for both city and country folk.

(Be sure to check local laws and restrictions before you start with anything, as those vary widely from place to place.)

Winter Garden Income

While you’d think winter would be the slow season for backyard garden income, believe it or not, it’s actually the best time for making money from your garden. You’re generally less busy with planting and weeding, but everyone is stuck inside dreaming of the garden bounty to come.

Indoor Salad Gardening

January is when everyone’s making new years resolutions to live healthier and eat more salads, but it’s a pretty rough time for gardening in most places. If right around the end of the year you plan ahead with an indoor salad gardening setup, you’ll be in the perfect position to market microgreens and sprouts when they’re in high demand.

Local farms around here sell winter micro greens CSA’s and unlike summer shares where they net less than a dollar on a head of lettuce, winter greens command high prices. A small bag of specialty microgreens runs $12 to 15 each. And I really mean a small bag, maybe 3 cups of at most.

The trick is to grow high-quality, specialty greens that get people excited when the grocery store options are minimal. The book Year Round Indoor Salad Gardening is a great resource to get started, and covers all you’d need to know to grow your own greens. At that point, the problem is scaling up and marketing.

Start a Small Backyard Seed Company

You may think you need to be some kind of multi-national to sell seeds, but in reality, customers are looking toward sustainably grown seed for specialty heirloom varieties these days. It doesn’t get much more sustainable than a backyard garden, and buying seed locally ensures that you’ll get varieties perfectly suited to a particular growing region.

Choosing the right crops is key to generating a good income selling seeds. Tomato seed, for example, is very easy to save and a single tomato often has enough seed to supply a dozen seed packets. The flowers are self-contained, and it actually takes work for plant breeders to hybridize a variety, which means they’ll come true to variety even with many different types grown in the same garden.

Most importantly, people get really excited about tomatoes. Ever wonder why 1/3 of any seed catalog seems to be tomato seed? With all that love for tomatoes, customers are liable to drop $5 for a locally grown packet of seeds for a really great variety.

While tomatoes are really easy, there are many varieties that aren’t much harder. You need to know a bit about seed saving, not only harvesting and cleaning the seed, but about how pollination and selection works by variety. Some varieties require a minimum population size to avoid inbreeding in the long term, and all that’s important to know before you get started.

Seed to Seed is generally recognized as the most encyclopedic book on seed saving, covering just about every variety you can imagine. It has great breadth to get you started, but not a whole lot of depth.

The Seed Garden is hands down my favorite seed saving book. It’s well written and covers varieties in great depth. It’s authored by The Seed Savers Exchange which does great work in the field of preserving heirloom varieties.

The Complete Guide to Seed Saving has a lot of stellar reviews, and it’s the next one I’m going to add to my gardening library.

Even in a small town environment here in Rural Vermont, there are about a dozen local seed companies. High Mowing Seed started out really small just down the road from us, and now they’re a big national brand. Milkweed Medicinals sells specialty seed that’s hard to find, and they now sell in all the local coops.

Find your niche and there’s a great income to be made with homegrown seed.

Selling Cuttings

Even easier than saving seed, selling cuttings is an easy way to make a healthy income from your established plants in the winter months. There are a number of varieties, like grapes for example, that need to be cut back or pruned in the winter. Those cuttings are perfect for starting new plants and many gardeners are willing to pay good money for tiny pieces of your established crops.

I just bought 30 elderberry cuttings from Norms Farms at $4 each to propagate at home. Elderberries grow readily from cuttings, and it’s an economical way for me to get a huge bed of them started. Elderberry plants from a nursery cost about $30 each, so I’m happy with the transaction and the seller just made $120 off a tiny box of trimmings.

There are a number of plants that grow well from hardwood cuttings, some like black currants, are as simple as snipping off a tip and sticking it into the ground. Others require a bit more attention and prep work to the cuttings, but they’re still beginner level.

Scion wood, or cuttings from apple trees to be grafted onto rootstock, is similarly lucrative. All you need is a couple of established apple trees of known varieties and you can harvest cuttings for sale.

Usually, each cutting is only a few inches long, so shipping them isn’t a big issue. There’s a marketplace on the seed savers exchange website, and a scion wood cutting sells for about $4 each.

Start by learning a thing or two about plant propagation, first so that you can establish your own cutting beds, and then so you can educate customers on how easy it is to grow plants from cuttings. Try reading Practical Woody Plant Propagation for Nursery Growers to get you started.

Read more: Why Does My Garden Hose Keep Bursting? | GardenAxis.com

A handful of elderberry cuttings that sell for $4 each.

Growing Mushrooms Indoors

Learning to grow mushrooms is a bit different than most standard garden crops, so this one will take some studying for even seasoned gardeners. Still, there’s the potential to grow large crops from a small indoor space year-round.

The book Organic Mushroom Farming and Mycoremediation describes in detail how to set up a back closet, extra nook or spare bathroom to grow mushrooms with minimal time investment (2 hours a week).

He has a great breakdown of costs, inputs, and yields…but in summary, you can make about $100 per week from a small setup that takes up a 4’x4′ footprint. The system scales easily, with minimal extra time investment, meaning you only need slightly more space to increase that to a grand per month.

The best part, they can grow in recycled 5-gallon buckets picked up from restaurants, and they consume waste products like spent coffee grounds, that you can often pick up for free.

If you have access to outdoor space and hardwood logs, growing shiitake mushrooms is also a great place to start for beginners, but outdoors, harvests would be in the warmer months rather than winter.

I don’t know about you, but when I had an office job my co-workers would have loved to buy fresh mushrooms to take home for a fancy Friday night meal.

Spring Garden Income

Spring is when everyone’s mind is dead set on their own gardens, and it’s a great time to capitalize on the surge in interest in all things green.

Selling Dandelions (and other wild weeds)

While countless suburbanites are spraying their lawns trying to eradicate the dandelions, more savvy gardeners are realizing that one person’s weed is another’s delicacy. Dandelions are edible root to shoot, and better yet, they’re also highly medicinal.

Dandelion root tincture sells for about $12 per ounce, and it only takes a root or two per ounce. The spring greens are highly sought after by local food coops, where they sell for $4-5 per bundle. Not bad for a pile of weeds.

Beyond dandelions, there’s all manner of early spring green “weeds” that can command high prices if you know how to identify, harvest and process them. Chickweed is incredibly invasive, but also delicious, and chickweed tincture has plenty of medicinal uses too.

There’s nothing like making a bit of side income from weeding your garden early in the spring. You’ve got to do it anyway, might as well make it pay.

Dandelion roots harvested for homemade tincture.

Growing Spring Ephemerals

An ephemeral is a crop that has a very short season, and it may only be around for a few weeks before the plants go dormant (or unharvestable) for a full year. Ramps, or wild leeks, are a slow-growing ephemeral that’s only around for a few weeks in the spring, but during that time they’re in high demand by both home cooks and fancy chefs. Knowing where to find a good wild patch is hard, but they’re actually remarkably easy to naturalize in your own backyard.

Growing ramps from seeds just requires the right conditions. Moist soil, under the shade of deciduous trees. The more leaf cover the better.

You’re not growing anything else in that much shade, so growing your own ramps is a great way to earn top dollar from an otherwise unproductive patch of land. This is a long-term venture though, as leeks are slow-growing, and they’ll require about 5-7 years before your first harvest, but after that, a well-tended and sustainably harvested patch can last indefinitely.

Fiddleheads are another crop that’s generally wild foraged, but it’s remarkably easy to cultivate. They can actually be pretty invasive, and I spent a long time weeding them out of my garden so I could grow anything else. I just dug them up and tossed them into a heap, and they kept on growing and spreading from there as if nothing happened.

Fiddleheads can be really productive, and they sell for about $20 a pound here in Vermont where they’re common. You might get even better prices somewhere they’re more scarce.

Since they’re productive, fern heads can be pickled to extend their season, so you can market the bumper crop a bit longer.

My daughter holding a harvest of fiddleheads and ramps.

Selling Spring Seedlings

Selling spring veggie seedlings is an obvious choice. Tomato seeds cost about a tenth of a cent each, but a healthy started plant can easily sell for $5. Sure, there’s the cost for potting soil and pots, but the profit margin is still huge on seedling sales.

The trick is, you’re investing your time and energy into starting plants off right, so others don’t have to. This is one of the most lucrative ways to make money from your garden if you invest in the right equipment and can master the process.

A greenhouse, even a small backyard model, is essential for producing seedlings early enough in the season. As for resources to get you started, The New Seed Starter’s Handbook covers everything in detail, including troubleshooting guides if your plants aren’t performing.

Beyond the income from selling seedlings, you’ll also save a boatload by starting your own seeds instead of purchasing starts. That’s one of those penny saved is a penny earned propositions, and any seedlings you don’t sell can just go right into your own garden.

Take a look at the local market this spring, and see if there are any gaps. Do all the tomato seedlings sell out quickly, or is the market flooded? If there’s plenty of other vendors, consider growing something niche like medicinal herbs.

Start a Backyard Nursery

Similar to growing out your own veggie seedlings, starting your own backyard nursery extends the income beyond the busy spring season. If you’re growing perennials, you don’t have to worry about any unsold plants at the end of the year. Just tuck them in for the winter and try to sell them next year.

Propagating plants from cuttings is remarkably easy, and all it takes is a bit of time and patience. Those elderberry cuttings that sold for $4 each (above) as trimmings will sell for $25 to $30 as full-sized potted bushes in a few years. Just the patience, time and space required to grow out the plants pays back in dividends later.

This is actually a big part of our retirement plan, and we’re putting in perennials throughout our land to serve as cutting sources later when we open our nursery. In the meantime, they’re beautiful, and most are edibles like elderberries, so we’re harvesting the fruit for our table while we patiently bide our time to retirement.

Backyard plant nurseries don’t require that much space, as potted plants can be stored fairly close together.

Summer Garden Income

Summer is peak growing season and it’s a great time to earn income from what you’re growing at home. The big farms and CSA operations have the lettuce market cornered, but backyard gardeners can break into the market by offering really novel crops. Start by focusing on high-dollar items and unique crops that get people’s attention.

High Dollar Specialty Crops

You’re never going to compete with the 100 acre organic CSA down the road on most generic crops, but those big operations cant grow everything. They can grow a lot of the staples most families use every day, but backyard gardeners can grow small amounts of truly specialty crops that demand high prices. Here are a few good options:

Husk Cherries – Also known as ground cherries, these plants produce huge crops of sweet pineapple/strawberry flavored fruit. They grow on plants similar to tomatoes, and each bright orange fruit is wrapped in a papery husk. Just one taste and you’ll want more.

Before we were growing our own, I’d buy them for $5 a pint…now I know that each plant can produce more than a gallon of fruit even with neglect. If you hand out samples, these will sell themselves. It also helps if you give people creative ways to use them.

Cucamelons – Also known as mouse melons, these tiny little grape-sized cucumbers taste like a cross between a cucumber and lime. They’re really wonderful fresh out of hand, and they make great pickles or mixed drinks. The cuteness factor means that these sell for about $5 per half-pint.

Berry Pick Your Own

To complement our backyard nursery retirement plans, we’re also planning a pick your own operation. This requires more space than most of the other ideas on this list, but after the initial setup, labor is pretty minimal.

A while back I calculated the rate of return on a raspberry pick your own, and you’d need about 250-row feet to produce $1000 worth of raspberries. For us on 30 acres, that’s a drop in the bucket, but that may be more space than you can devote to any one crop.

Strawberries are similar, in that a plant generally yields about a pound of fruit in a season, and requires 1-row foot. At $4 per pound, you’d need the same amount of row feet as raspberries. The benefit there is, strawberry rows are much more closely spaced so this may be more practical for some.

Read more: 37 Garden Border Ideas To Dress Up Your Landscape Edging

Garden Tours, Tea Times & Classes

Though it’s not my cup of tea, garden tours and country tea times are a good option for flower gardeners. A local nurseryman around here makes a good side income hosting tea time in his home garden, and runs an annual tour of his extensive plantings, along with specialty days for big blooms (like daffodils). Our gardens are more down-to-earth and “homestead” than they are attractive, but many people’s are just the opposite.

All it takes is a few tables, a decent scone recipe, and a few good teapots, and you’re ready to run a weekly afternoon tea time in the garden. Add in tours and maybe a few gardening classes and you’ve got yourself a ready source of income from your own beautiful backyard.

Medicinal Herbs

With the increasing demand for more alternative remedies, there’s never been a better time to grow medicine in your backyard. Locally grown herbs are still hard to find in most areas, but plenty of people are looking for them.

Many medicinal herbs are perennials, which means you plant them once and you can harvest them for years. And the same compounds that make the plants medicinal also make them resistant to deer and insects, which means less maintenance than garden veggies. For the most part, they’re perennial, persistent and more importantly…profitable.

There’s a high demand for medicinal tinctures since they’re ready to use, and our local coop has half an aisle dedicated to them. Tinctures sell for $8 to $12 an ounce, but they only cost about $1 to $2 an ounce, even if you’re buying in the herbs rather than growing them.

Add in another $1 for the tincture bottle, and you’re still making a pretty sizable profit per bottle. Choosing crops that are common and in high demand, like echinacea tincture can help you break into the market.

As you’re just getting started, I’d recommend Backyard Medicine as a way to dip your toe into harvesting and making your own herbal remedies, especially from wild crops. If you’re considering growing herbs for profit I’d highly recommend The Organic Medicinal Herb Farmer: The Ultimate Guide to Producing High-Quality Herbs on a Market Scale. It’s written by farmers that grow just a few towns over from us, and they’ve inspired a lot of people to take up growing medicine for the market.

The Herbal Academy of New England also has a course designed specifically for herbal entrepreneurs. The course walks you through the basics of creating your own brand identity, marketing, sourcing herbal ingredients, manufacturing herbal remedies and creating a business plan around herbs and herbal remedies.

Fall Garden Income

The end of the garden season, fall is generally when the crops come in. In my mind though, it’s one of the more challenging times to make income as a small producer.

There are a lot of products on the market, and it’s hard to stand out. With the holidays right around the corner though, marketing yourself as a niche producer of really unique homegrown gifts can work to your advantage.

Honey & Bee Products

Gardeners need bees and bees need gardeners! Raising honey bees is a great way to support pollinator communities, but with all the challenges that face hives these days, it’s best to be educated before you start. There’s a really great book called Natural Beekeeping: Organic Approaches to Modern Apiculture that covers just about everything you need to know to keep your bees healthy naturally.

In a good year, with our short Vermont growing seasons, bees can produce as much as 100lbs of honey for harvest. The current bulk price at our coop, meaning bring your own container nothing fancy…is $7 per pound. Pre-packaged just in mason jars, honey goes for $10-12 per pound, and considerably more in specialty gift packaging.

Add in things like bee pollen or propolis for medicinal use, or comb honey, and you have yet more high-dollar items to market.

Honey, especially locally sustainably raised honey is in high demand just about everywhere. People are realizing that bees are important to our environment, and many will be happy to pay for local honey just knowing that it means supporting someone who is stewarding such an important resource in their neighborhood.

Apples, Cider and Cider Press Rentals

My doctor has a small apple share side hustle that she runs with her sister, selling harvest shares to neighbors in her spare time. They have a few full-sized apple trees, and each one produces around 100 to 120 pounds of apples per year. These days, conventionally grown supermarket apples are about $3 per pound…and locally grown apples fetch a premium above that.

She sells shares ahead of time and then divides the harvest as each tree comes to bear. Distributing them to shareholders every week or two as each variety ripens over the season.

We have other neighbors who sell fresh cider that they press from their trees, at $12 per gallon. Last year we pressed nearly 80 gallons from our trees, most of which went into hard cider and homemade cider syrup (like maple syrup), but we easily could have sold it instead. Instead of selling our cider, we have a different strategy for earning our income during apple season.

We invested in an efficient double-barrel cider press, with the thought that we can rent it out to other small apple producers. People with one or two trees in their backyard love the novelty of pressing their own cider, and around these parts a press rents for about $50 for the afternoon. Over the course of the season that can really add up…

Year-Round Garden Income

Beyond different things you can do seasonally to earn a few thousand a couple of months a year, there are things you can do year-round to earn a steady income related to your garden.

Garden Blogging

I know, making income from blogging seems too good to be true, but writing about diy, gardening, and self-sufficiency is now my full-time job. Within 6 months of starting this blog, I started making an extra $1000 a month. After 9 months of writing, I was able to quit my day job, and now at 18 months in I bring in more each month than any job I’ve ever had.

The best part? All I do is write about what we’re already doing here in our daily lives, and I spend my days playing in the garden and out foraging in the woods with my kids.

I was inspired to take the leap into blogging when I read the book Make Money Blogging at Any Level by my blogger friend, Victoria at A Modern Homestead. She outlines in detail how to earn a substantial income, even from a very small blog.

She was able to retire her husband and supports her family exclusively with her blog. If you’re considering blogging as a source of income it’s worth the investment. It’s $27 for the book, and I made that back in my first week with my blog following her tips.

She also has a much more comprehensive blogging e-course that takes you through everything you need to know to launch your own profitable blog. It’s a bit more of an investment, but it’s the perfect way for a beginner to learn everything they need to know to launch their blog fast and start earning money.

Garden Micro-Influencer

Making money on Instagram is all the rage these days, and you’d be surprised how many companies are willing to send you free products just for a promise that you’ll post at least 1 picture of it to Instagram with honest feedback. Once you have even a small following, companies will pay you for your time reviewing it (and you still get to keep it for free…)

Looking for a little inspiration? You can always follow along on my Instagram for ideas…

Hopefully, this helps inspire you to turn your gardening passion into a meaningful side hustle. If you have any other ideas, let me know in the comments below.

More Income Inspiration

How to Make a Full-Time Income Off-Grid

8 Ways to Make an Extra $1000 a Month on a Small Homestead

Making Money with Small Scale Maple Sugaring

Source: https://livingcorner.com.au Category: Garden

source https://livingcorner.com.au/12-ways-to-make-1000-a-month-from-your-garden-year-round/

#livingcornernews

6 notes · View notes

concussed-to-pieces · 3 years

Text

Whether It Works Out Or Not: Winter’s Cold, Part One

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2

Pairing: High Honor!Arthur Morgan/Named OFC

Rating: Holy shit T.

AN: You kids lookin’ for a fix-it? Let’s get it started.

[Spoiler warning for the epilogue!]

Tag List: @huliabitch @cookiethewriter @pedrosbigdorkenergy @thirstworldproblemss @anonymouscosmos @culturalrebel @karmezii @teaofpeach @crookedmoonsaultpunk @wrestlingfae @zombiexbody @nelba @scribblenotes76 @toxiicpop @mstgsmy @misty-possum @gallowsjoker @midnightbeauty35 @lackofhonor @renegademustelid @missfronkensteen

Part One: Strangers

Part Two: Friends

Part Three: More

Bonus One: A Brief Diversion

Bonus Two: Back In The Cage

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains brief mentions of pregnancy and general peril. Stay safe!]

"I want the fellow you've got in that cell. The one you're sending up the river." The mustachioed man demanded without pretext. "You boys give him to me and I'll make it worth your while, plus a touch extra."

"Listen mister, I don't know who you are or where the hell you came from, but that feller has five grand on his head. I doubt you've got enough scratch to make anythin' worth our while." The senior bounty hunter sneered, his boots still propped up on the table in front of him.

A sack hit the table, the mysterious man undoing the drawstring slowly. "I've got six grand right here, genuine bill and coin. Count it all if you feel like it, or if you just want to touch it." His smile was mean , like the slash of a knife across his face. "Split between the two of you? Three grand apiece. Five hundred extra each. You boys really so well off that you can turn down five hundred window dressing?" The man queried.

"Hell." The bounty hunter gawked at the money, then over at his partner, and finally back up at the man in front of them. "Jesus mister, you know this feller will probably die even before he reaches justice, don'cha? He's real sick. He was nearly dead on the mountainside as-is, and he ain't gotten better. Hasn't so much as opened his eyes in days!"

"Hey hey, if he wants him and he's willin' to pay that much…" The other bounty hunter trailed off, looking greedily at the bag on the table. "I ain't that inclined to turn the bastard in to the Pinks if I can make a little extra."

"But we was gonna'-"

"Or," the mysterious man sighed, "I suppose I could just take my money and be on my way." He began to retie the drawstring but the first bounty hunter stopped him.

"Hold up there, friend . We didn't even catch your name. Normally in polite society, a feller makin' an offer has the courtesy to introduce themselves."

The man leaned in, sweeping his hat off of his head and offering a stately little bow. "Ah, where are my manners? Gentlemen, my name is Doctor Franklin Craft. Junior of course."

The younger bounty hunter openly stared at him. "Ol' Doc Craft had a son?" He asked hesitantly. "All I ever heard about was the messy business that went on with his daughter's husband."

"Truly, a sordid tale. And she is actually the reason why I'm here." Doctor Craft ( junior, of course ) bowed his head in respect. "Before Irene...made her brief return to polite society, she chanced across the very fellow you have in that cell." Craft's grip on the brim of his hat tightened visibly. "He stole something from her. Something... irreplaceable . And while I may be unable to get it back, I can assure you that this man will be afforded all the comforts I can offer him while he lingers on this earth." He snarled sarcastically. "Now, do we have a deal?"

...

Two Days Prior ...

"Annie, you're a terror! " Irene laughed, scrubbing at the little girl's grubby face with the corner of her apron. "What have I told you about playing in the mud? Only in your mess trousers and only outside, right?"

The child nodded, offering a beaming smile. Irene probably would have fallen for it, had the girl not tracked mud all over the modest dwelling. Anna was only a hair past one year of age, but she had been racing around from the moment she was able to walk. Irene was hard-pressed to keep track of her on her own.

It had been nearly two years since Irene had seen Arthur. Once she realized a seed had been planted during one of their pleasurable trysts, she took great pains to tie everything up neatly. Returning for her deceased husband's money had been her boldest move yet, but there was little the courts could do to dispute her claim to his property. Willie had purported that she was dead so he could remarry, and yet here she stood before them, hale and hearty. It had caused quite the uproar, if only for the unapologetic way that she had addressed everyone's shortcomings in dealing with her reports of abuse.

The railroad bonds he had hoarded so jealously became her failsafe, and it was with careful consideration that she began to invest in various ventures. Subsequently, there was the business of selling off every last thing . Every ounce of property, every stick of furniture, down to the hideous pewter candlesticks in the dining room.

Irene found herself politely turning down suitors left and right. Now that she was a woman of means, it appeared that men were willing to give her the time of day once more.

It wouldn't be long before she would have real difficulty hiding how her body was changing. Irene decided to purchase a simple cottage up in the East Grizzlies, and it was there that she began making a home. A true home. A home of her own.

She planted herbs, chopped enough firewood to last a lifetime, and went fishing and hunting in the nearby woodlands. The self-sufficient woman continued to live in relative isolation, only making the trip to Annesburg when she desperately needed a midwife. All the research and overheard lectures from her father couldn't have prepared her for labor, and she would be eternally grateful for the patient woman who had led her through the agony to emerge on the other side one daughter richer.

She named the baby Anna, her heart full to bursting when the tiny babe clutched Irene's index finger with all her strength. Little Annie Craft , her eyes just as devastatingly blue as her father's and her hair soon growing into a mess of tawny-blonde corkscrews.

Anna held out a small rock to her mother, the muddy offering obviously one of contrition. "Sorry?" The child questioned.

Irene sighed, rumpling her hair and accepting the pebble with a laugh. "Go get washed up, little one. It's nearly dinnertime."

Anna nodded, trotting back outside to the small bowl on the steps that Irene had repurposed as a child-sized washbasin.

Irene took the small stone and wrung out her dishrag, scrubbing at the rock to reveal whatever it was that had caught Anna's eye with this particular specimen. It appeared to be quartz, the dull glitter in the last of the day's sunlight more than enough of a reason in a child's mind to acquire it. Irene smiled a bit sadly down at the small stone on the counter, then scooped it up and placed it carefully on the windowsill with the rest of its contemporaries. A few more pebbles, several dried up leaves and flowers, and the real prize, a snake's shed skin. All the treasures a small child could muster up and then some, proudly displayed.

"Well! Gracious me, where did you come from, little cherub?" An unfamiliar man's voice drifted in through the windows and Irene jerked her head up, startled and dismayed to see a dapper-looking fellow on one knee in the mud of the front yard, her daughter's hand in his own as he presented her with a small paper flower.

The woman fairly bolted for the door. "Annie, love, come here!" She called benignly, trying not to distress the child. "What have I told you about strangers, wee miss?"

Anna nodded, gifting the man one of her signature smiles but not moving. "She is a beautiful little girl." The stranger mused, rising to his full height and moving his hand to Anna's shoulder, keeping her where she was. "Her eyes, in particular! What a lovely shade of blue they are." He studied Irene standing on her front porch for several long moments. "I assume she must get them from her father, since yours are such a pristine hue of amber."

"Indeed she does." Irene replied evenly. "Please unhand my child at once, Mister…"

"Trelawny, ma'am! Josiah Trelawny, at your service."

"Mister Trelawny, release my daughter and you may leave my property unharmed."

"I had dealings with a man who has eyes like your little girl's, Miss Craft." He continued breezily like she hadn't spoken. How did he know her name? "Strong fellow, secretly altruistic, bit of a temper. Fiercely loyal." Josiah paused dramatically. "And currently , almost out of reach."

Arthur . Irene knew she must have let something slip in her expression, for a knowing smile blossomed on Trelawny's face. The man let Anna go, and she toddled across the front yard to the steps. "What is it that you want from me, Josiah Trelawny?" Irene snapped. "Does he have debts that need paying?"

"Heavens, no! That man has paid his debts twice over again." Josiah took a step forward. "Might we converse indoors, Miss Craft? The things I am about to tell you are matters that warrant a certain amount of... discretion ."

Irene hesitated, then reluctantly nodded while beckoning him to approach. Trelawny followed her indoors, not speaking again until they had settled down at her small kitchen table.

"Arthur, you see, is a friend of mine. Though I'm certain he would argue to the contrary." Josiah explained while he helped himself to the grudgingly-offered biscuits and fresh raspberry jam. "Currently, however, he sits in a filthy cell waiting to be judged. The bounty on him was very substantial, Miss Craft, very substantial indeed." He settled back in the chair, biscuit crumbs marring his damask waistcoat. "Five thousand dollars, by all accounts."

" Five thousand? " Irene repeated in horrified dismay.

"Yes. Now, that is undoubtedly distressing enough. That is no simple room and board, ma'am! A man may work his whole life for funds such as those." Josiah leaned forward. "And yet there is something far worse that hangs like the sword of Damocles over his head, Miss Craft. Arthur is abysmally ill. He is plagued by that lunging pestilence, the consumption. Lord only knows how long he's had it, but it is ravaging him now in incarceration."

Consumption . Irene had no doubt that she was white as a sheet at that news. "Why are you telling me this, Mister Trelawny?" She mentally congratulated herself on keeping her voice steady.

"The locals mentioned you are a woman of skill. That you know certain... remedies , though you are not permitted a doctorate so instead you must fall back upon the moniker of hermit witchery." Josiah steepled his fingers. "Then of course, there are the rumors I've heard about you being the long-lost Widow Carson. There was much ado about her in the polite society...why, over a year ago at this point! How time flies." His eyes were narrowed. "The dead woman who came from the wilds and returned to them just as fast, carrying with her a fortune and apparently ," those eyes darted to the oblivious child who was currently playing on the hearth rug, "an outlaw's brat-"

Irene was on her feet in a flash, her palms meeting the table to cut the man off before he could continue. "You shall not speak so rough in front of my daughter, Mister Josiah, or I will make you regret opening your mouth. Mind your tongue while you sit at my table and take my hospitality hostage," she seethed. "What is it that you want from me? Did you simply come here to chastise me for having a child out of wedlock? I fear you're a touch too late to stop me on that front."

"From you , my dear woman? Nothing at all!" Josiah exclaimed, seeming appropriately cowed by her display of backbone. "You misunderstand my intent. I am here because I am in search of a gentleman named Frank Craft ." His contrition gone, the man was watching her like a hawk . "I came across mention of him in Arthur's journal. Frank is... instrumental to a plan I have devised, you see."

Shit . "Why don't you tell me about this... plan of yours and I'll see whether it's even worth Frank's time." Irene challenged him, folding her arms across her chest. Anna buried her face in Irene's apron, the child obviously picking up on her mother's discomfort.

...

Back In The Present...

"Oh well done , sir! Well done indeed!" Josiah praised her roundly when she returned to their meeting spot with Arthur in the saddle in front of her. "You have performed admirably , Doctor Craft!"

"Don't forget your half of the bargain, Trelawny." Irene said sharply, peeling the false mustache off with a grimace. "I expect that money back in my hands in two days."

"But of course! A few more investments in the Kilgore mines and I shall have your payment safely returned."

Arthur, who did not even seem to be conscious , started coughing and wheezing like his lungs were fit to come out. Irene didn't miss Josiah's look of extreme worry. "I'll do my best with him, Trelawny." She murmured. "I can't promise anything. He seems in a bad way."

"The coughing started back in...April, perhaps early May of last year if I recall his journal entries correctly. It's a miracle he's endured this long." Trelawny stated bluntly. He shifted in his saddle, "speaking of his journal, I have that very item with me. Should he recuperate, I imagine he would miss it immensely." He tossed her the leatherbound book, and then tipped his hat. "I'll be off. Thank you for your assistance, Miss Craft."

"Just get me the money, Josiah." She retorted, pulling her scarf up over her nose and mouth before spurring Bluster off in the direction of home. Arthur's mare trotted along behind them serenely, the other animal having always possessed a much more even temperament than Bluster.

Irene pressed her ear to Arthur's back after a time, listening to how ragged and labored his breathing was and her heart broke. She prayed like she never had before the entire ride home, prayed to the Good Lord to let her save this man.

Please God, spare him, he's suffered enough .

As she rounded the final bend in the road before the last thickly-wooded section, she was startled to see an enormous stag barring her way. The beast was a strange amber-white, boasting a many-pronged rack of antlers that would have left many a hunter awestruck. It practically glowed in the moonlight, nigh ethereal as it turned its head and studied the woman with one liquid, pitch-black eye.

Irene cautiously reined in Bluster, who didn't seem concerned with the massive creature. That of all things was what made her uneasy. Bluster, the perennial coward, was wholly unbothered by the hulking apparition that currently sat in front of them. Chase was unphased as well, the mare actually lowering her head to graze the sparse grass. Bluster's breath fogged out around his nose, the air already sharp with the promise of winter, and Irene realized with a jolt of confusion that the stag had no visible haze from its breath around its head.

The deer that towered head and shoulders over her even while mounted turned in the direction they had been heading, and then set off at a stately pace. It stopped after a moment, looking back at her as if to say, " well? "

Irene clicked her tongue, coaxing Bluster to a careful trot. The stag appeared satisfied with this arrangement, soon picking up speed. It led her on a strange path, a bit more of a winding one than she would have taken, but Irene felt weirdly confident that this odd... vision was here to help.

Off in the woods to the left, sounding like it was dangerously close to the deer track she would have taken, she heard a furious crashing of branches and the yowling of a cougar as it chased down some unfortunate prey.

Irene looked wide-eyed at the stag and found that it had turned its head to stare at her once more. Bluster whinnied uncertainly, beginning to fidget as he doubtless caught the noise and smell of the big cat, and Irene urged him on a little faster.

Jesus , encountering a cougar at this hour, her with nothing but her revolver and the limp weight of Arthur further burdening Bluster? They would have been dead for certain!

"Thank you." She breathed, feeling foolish for being disappointed when she received no reply.

The stag finally halted on the rocky hilltop adjacent to the little hollow her stead rested in, still not an ounce of breath fog around its nose or issuing from its mouth, and Irene realized after a moment that it was waiting for her to continue onwards.

"Thank you," she said again softly, grateful even through her disbelief.

The deer folded its legs to lay in the grass, as if to keep an eye out for danger while Irene dismounted and led the two horses down the steep incline. Arthur started to cough again, the noise sharp and hollow as his breath rasped in and out.

"Nearly there Arthur, nearly there." Irene soothed, knowing that he was probably unable to hear her in his delirium. "We'll be home…" her words trailed off when she turned to look back at Arthur and saw that the stag had vanished. "...soon."

Bluster whickered at her quietly after a moment, breaking the spell of her confusion. Right . Work to be done.

...

" The queen will never win the game, for Rumpelstiltskin is my name! "

Arthur couldn't even bring himself to wonder what the hell he was hearing. Some sort of distant nursery rhyme, and he wasn't sure if he was imagining the sound of a small child laughing fit to split their sides.

Christ , he was tired. His body ached and his lungs seared like hellfire. Throat raw from coughing, tongue sour with the iron taste of blood. He had really, really thought he would be dead by now. Guess his body had other plans, the bastard .

He went back under, muddling around in the red haze of semi-consciousness. It seemed like someone was always forcing him to take some kind of medicine. Bitter, scraping his battered throat like knives all the way down. Maybe it was poison.

Some strange salve for his chest, reeking so potently of mint that his eyes watered even though they were closed. It reminded him of the ointments Hosea had soothed the horses with, the damn man probably pious as a pope from all the anointing he did.

A ladle full of lukewarm water pressed to his lips and he drank as best as he could, though some of it ended up trickling down his chin. His jaw was physically sore from the rib-shattering coughing he had struggled through; it was all he could do just to pry his teeth apart.

Christ , he should be dead. He had been surprised enough when he managed to survive getting a hole blown in his shoulder without losing the limb to gangrene, but this was a whole new level of bullshit.

What little life he had left after enduring Dutch's madness, Micah had done his best to beat out of him.

Maybe they wanted him healthy for the gallows. Put on more of a show if he was strong enough to raise his head. Arthur didn't have the heart or breath to tell whoever this was that their care was in vain. He was so far gone…

Nobody could save him. Not even God himself could save Arthur Morgan at this point.

Winter’s Cold, Part Two

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr2 fandom #arthur morgan #rdr2 spoilers #arthur morgan x original female character #rdr2 fanfic #high honor arthur #arthur morgan imagine #oh that's right #back at it again #big yeehell hours #fix-it fic #red dead redemption 2 epilogue #rdr2 epilogue

25 notes · View notes

crystalgirl259 · 3 years

Text

The Flame and the Dragon Chapter 30

Chapter 30: The Greenhouse

Kai gazed at the card in his hands, before shifting his neutral eyes back towards his opponents. His four competitors all held their cards close to their faces, leaving only their deceiving eyes visible. Though there was no pot between them, they played with the skill and secrecy as if they were competing for a fortune. Finally, in turns starting with the one to the left of the dealer. Echo, who had never played the game until Kai started teaching him earlier that week.

They threw down their hands.

Jay slammed the cards down, revealing three jacks. Ronin smirked and revealed three queens. Tox threw down five low, mismatched cards, all in diamonds. Kai flashed a bright smirk and elegantly laid out three Kings and two fives. His grin doubled in size as his competitors growled, and he crossed his hands proudly over his chest.

"What have you got, Echo?" Kai asked, triumphantly. The boy fidgeted a bit, nervously looking at his own hand, then everyone else's.

"Well, I think I got two pairs," He said uncertainly and began placing down cards. "One pair and another pair." He told them and just like that, it was like someone flipped a switch. Tox and the three boys gasped, screamed, and dropped their jaws when Echo color-coordinated his cards. He placed the ace of spades next to the ace of clubs in one pile and the aces of hearts and diamonds in a second.

"Awe man!" Ronin threw down his cards and leaned back on his hands. "Echo always wins!"

"Are you sure you've never played poker before?" Kai asked with suspicious eyes and Echo blushed. "Beginner's luck? Or maybe I just had a good teacher?" He guessed as he flashed a guilty smile. Kai melted under the boy's eyes, flashing the same pleading look Lloyd used to get out of trouble. At first glance, it looked purely innocent. However, he had grown up with Lloyd and he knew full well Echo was far more mature than he let others believe.

"Don't try and butter me up, I'm immune to that," Kai smirked as he ruffled Echo's hair.

"Honestly though, I really think it's just luck." Echo laughed

"Let's try a different game," Ronin suggested as he gathered up the cards and started shuffling the cards, performing an impressive bridge.

"No thanks, we've been playing cards all morning." Kai sighed, leaned back against his pillows, and unfurled his crossed legs from their uncomfortable position. As much as Kai loved spending time with his friends, his confinement to this room, even for the sake of his health was driving him to madness. At least when Cole locked him in this room a few months back he could actually walk around and go out on the balcony.

"We could do something else?" Jay suggested sympathetically and Kai gave him a small smile. He knew Jay took his job as the castle entertainer seriously, but at this point, there was little he could do.

"Honestly, Jay, I just can't wait to get the hell out of this bedroom, I feel like I've been stuck in here forever," Kai complained, loudly. As if on cue, the door to Kai's room opened followed by the sound of large, leathery wings.

"Perhaps I can change that?" Cole said as he swaggered inside, slightly irritated Kai wasn't alone but ignored it when he saw the surprise on Kai's face. The young man was propped broadly against his backrest donning only a pair of red pajamas and a thick, fuzzy robe and it was mid-afternoon.

"Are you here to make sure I stay in bed like a good little boy?" Kai teased, sarcastically. Cole snorted and called his bluff.

"Actually, I was going to say that you've been given a clean bill of health and if you wanted to get dressed, but if you insist." He smirked as he turned to leave but Kai was faster and jumped off the bed and grabbed the clothes out of Cole's arms in less than a second, not even acknowledging the flowers.

"Thank you!" Kai said sweetly before disappearing into the bathroom to change.

"He's happy," Ronin laughed and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

"I'll bet, he's been stuck in here for almost two weeks and Winter's almost over." Tox hummed as she slithered off the bed and opened the curtains letting sunlight spill into the room.

"Speaking of that, I want your attention," Cole announced earning all of his servant's attention. "Echo, I've already given Zane an outline, but I'm planning a ball in a few weeks, and I need someone in charge of cleaning up the ballroom and making it spectacular, you up for it?" He smirked with a wink as he put the roses in a nearby vase. Echo looked flabbergasted then ecstatic.

"I'd love to!" He exclaimed, practically bursting from his seat, and grabbed Jay and Tox's hands. "I'll start right away! I make it look prettier than it did on your coronation!" He cheered and jumped with glee, dragging his two helpless captives behind him, his cheers echoing around the hallway. Ronin turned to his master with bewildered eyes.

"Aren't you going to join them? The ball is for the whole castle and it's going to take a lot of preparations." Cole chuckled. Ronin's eyes doubled in size before a wide grin of delight split his face and he bolted off after his friends, laughing giddily.

"Where did everyone go?" A familiar brunette suddenly asked. Cole turned around at the sound of Kai's voice and lost his breath. Griffin's latest outfit for Kai consisted of a long-sleeved shirt and matching pants made of dark crimson satin. Smooth, shiny cloth tightly hugged his arms, legs, and torso but flared at his wrists and ankles. Black lace adored the collar like black wings. The red of his sleeves stuck out at his wrists giving his outfit a flame-like appearance.

"You look ravishing," Cole purred as he licked his lips making Kai blush and grunt in annoyance.

"What's with all the lace?" He asked a bit put off by the feminine decoration. Cole shrugged, though his own clothing consisted of a simple green shirt and pants that bunched at the knees where his scales formed spikes and a simple black frock coat. Cole quickly leaned over, placed an arm behind Kai's shoulders and hooked his other arm under Kai's knees, and yanked him into a bridal carry.

"Cole! What are you doing?" Kai yelped and threw his arms around Cole's neck for support.

"What?" Cole asked in mock innocence. Kai growled and fidgeted fiercely in Cole's grip.

"I hate being carried, you know that! Besides, Echo and Neuro said I was fine, so let me walk on my own!"

"Correction, they said you were allowed to leave so long as you did not over-exert yourself, and you remained indoors."

"But I can still walk!" He complained, punching Cole's chest but became annoyed when Cole didn't even flinch.

"Now, come on, I have something very special I want to share with you." He grinned. Kai said nothing, preferring to crossing his arms and pout, but ceased his fighting.

"Alright, I suppose I can forgive you then, as long as I'm out of my room for the rest of the day."

"I guarantee it," Cole smirked. He held onto Kai when they came to the hallway and leaped onto the banister. Kai clung to him when they suddenly took to the air and screeched when Cole dropped. Cole glided on his wings until he landed on the main level, falling to one knee. Cole's breath suddenly caught in his chest and a pounding pain erupted right where Kai's elbow collided with his ribs. Cole growled at him then smirked wickedly. Before Kai could counter he was suddenly flung into the air and found his chest and chin whacking against Cole's hard, scaled spine, the tail of his coat flopped over his head.

A shiver raked his spine when he felt sharp, cold claws stroke his hips where the hems of his shirt exposed his skin.

"You never learn do you, Kai?" He said and Kai could just picture the smirk on Cole's face. Immediately realizing his position, Kai turned as red as his clothing, and his defenses erupted in a fit of anger and embarrassment.

"COLE!" Kai screamed and thrashed, flailing his limbs and pounding his fists as hard as he could against Cole's back, and pushed himself up so his body was somewhat straight. "Let go! I can tolerate your bridal carry obsession but I'll be damned if I'm carried like this!" He shouted and shrieked as Cole grabbed one of his ankles to keep the thrashing limb from striking him. He couldn't contain himself and burst out laughing at Kai's temper tantrum.

Finally, Cole took pity on him and wrapped his tail around Kai's waist then released his hold.

Kai released a combination of a yelp of surprise and a screech of fear when he was suddenly flipped over and found himself on his feet, Cole's tail securely wrapped around his waist. Cole hadn't stopped laughing.

"Don't get sick again, Kai, you're too amusing," Cole said as he choked out words between laughs. Kai growled like a caged animal. His balled fists, furious eyes, and twisted jaw were marred by his strawberry red face. He wanted to speak but his words turned to embarrassing snarls.

"Now don't be like that, I'm only teasing." Cole smiled and wrapped a wing about Kai's back in apology.

"At least I'm walking now." Kai snorted as he gave a small smile and let Cole led him down a familiar corridor. For a second Kai thought Cole was taking him back to the library. They stopped by the recognizable curved doors, however, he found Cole's attention on another part of the hallway. It was adjacent to the library entrance and opposite the enormous windows lining the hallway. At first glance, it looked like the rest of the wall. Kai could see the faint outline of ivory vines and stone flowers growing from the ground into a curved arch shape.

Cole shoved the doors open with a hard shove.

Light burst from inside and Kai could see that the ceiling was curved like a half-cylinder. It was made entirely of glass, flooding the room with sunlight. He covered his eyes with his arm and let Cole guide him inside. When he looked up, he found himself in the center of another world. His breath caught in this throat when he realized the world was actually a giant greenhouse. He quickly realized that the greenhouse was more than just an inside garden.

A field of grass was contoured by a sundry of hedges and bushes.

A fountain stood in the back right of the greenhouse, always tinkling with the sound of water. The flowers and plants were forming a miniature world of their own, full of mysteries and wonder. They were a delight for butterflies. There were some bird feeders scattered around and the sounds of many different birds echoed around. The hedges and bushes had recently been trimmed. A path of stepping stones curves around each bend in the garden, beckoning people to explore the garden and showing them the best sights at the same time.

Roots slightly disrupted the pristine look as they hungrily search for even more pieces of land to expand to.

The fountain eternally beckoned all visitors, drawing all attention toward it. The flowers and plants were surely a sight to behold, and the hedges and bushes looked fantastic. The focus was just simply on the fountain.

"This is the Queen's Greenhouse, a sacred place only those allowed by the Queen or someone invited by one whom she has personally granted permission may enter; even the staff isn't allowed inside," Cole explained and that hasn't surprised Kai. He could tell the room has been well cared for. None of the plants had lost their brilliance, the flowers hadn't lost their reality, and the little birds hadn't lost their beauty.

"I'm honored that you'd share this with me," Kai spoke graciously. Though the room was only the size of a tall living room, the walls and plants made it seem much smaller and worldly bigger all at once. Its oval shape blended everything without the disruption of corners. Kai was lost in the world the queen created until he felt firm hands grip his shoulders to steady him. In the corner of the room, he found a small stool in front of a shed and a stack of gardening supplies, jars of paint, and bowls of tools.

Next to the shed was a large statue of the couple he recognized from the portrait in Cole's room, lavished in beautiful wedding garbs.

The man held his bride in his arms. The bride held a beautiful bouquet of roses. Kai flinched when he felt Cole's wing wrap around his form. Kai turned to stare at him but Cole's gaze was in an unknown universe, a worldly smile set upon his face.

"I was a child when she first brought me here, I asked her if Dad ever saw it, and she laughed and said the first time she brought him here was to show him the statue she had made, the one of their wedding day." He smiled and Kai's eyes returned to the portrait. Just imagining the sheer joy the king must have felt when his wife showed him the statue their love inspired. "Then she finally told him the real reason why she'd brought him there, she'd wanted to tell him she was pregnant."

Kai's eyes widened, but Cole just smiled in an almost childlike way.

Cole wrapped his arms around the boy's shoulder, and met Kai's eyes with his own, glowing with something that made Kai's heart skip a beat. Kai tried to find his voice but found he could barely breathe. So much had happened, so much had yet to happen but somehow it all seemed less complex when he looked into Cole's eyes. Rationality and emotion warred against one another in a way that made Kai want to scream. For a brief moment, he despaired as to how such a glorious creature could find one such as him so special.

But just as quickly, he crushed those thoughts and relaxed his mind.

The hammering of his heart suddenly sounded quiet and the sudden wash of emotion made his eyes droop and his lips part. It took all of Cole's willpower not to simply kiss his captive senselessly and pin him against the floor. He knew Kai wouldn't stop him if he did, but the last nagging sliver of control had ruthlessly crushed those desires. It was getting harder and harder to control himself around him, but Cole promised himself he would wait.

He wouldn't take that step until they were both certain, but it didn't stop him from wanting to pull the smaller man into his arms.

Kai's half-lidded eyes and the slight parting of his lips made Cole lick his fangs. Fire and desire burned in his veins, sending his every nerve ending ablaze. His claws carefully danced up Kai's clothed arms before firmly taking hold of his tanned shoulders. The young man didn't flinch. Without warning, Cole broke his control and crashed their lips together in a rich, passionate kiss. Kai immediately parted his lips and gripped the collar of Cole's coat and shirt tightly.

He pulled the Dragon Lord closer against him, deepening the desire between them.

A fire burst between them, their limbs and lips moved and explored new territories, claiming whatever they could touch. The scorching touch between them made them both burn for more and more. They mutually broke away, their eyes never leaving the others. Cole's grip on Kai's shoulders tightened and he roughly pulled the teen forward until their foreheads touched.

"You make it so difficult to keep control, my flame." Cole panted each word.

"Then why not break your control?" Kai smirked as his eyes lit up at the challenge. Uncertainty flashed in Cole's eyes.

"You have no idea what you're asking." He warned as one of his hands reached for one of the objects near the gardening supplies. He held a thick metal container clearly in line with Kai's vision. With a simple clench of his wrists, his claws sliced it to ribbons of metal, his muscles crushing them together before Cole dropped to the ground. Kai rolled his eyes.

"That isn't what I meant, and you know it."

"Perhaps not, but the fact remains, I'm still a dragon, Kai." Cole frowned. "I have teeth and claws, scales and a tail and brute strength, if I'm not careful, I could kill you with my brutality."

"No, you wouldn't," Kai said confidently.

"How do you know?" Cole challenged, unconvinced.

"Because I know you," He said firmly, his gentle hands moving to cradle the dragon's face in his hands. "I know for a fact you would never hurt me, you might roar at me, but you've had to dodge a few of my punches too so I guess that makes us even." He winked playfully. Despite himself, Cole couldn't help but laugh.

"Are you sure? I'm not blind, Kai, I see the fear in your eyes." He smiled with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, you're right, I am scared, but not of you; I have taken your true form into consideration, and you can't fault me for finding the idea of losing my virginity to a dragon a bit intimidating, that and I'm not rushing into anything," Kai sighed as he flicked Cole's nose, but his stance assured him he was serious, despite the playful banter. "I mean it, I mean, technically, we haven't even been on a proper date yet." He winked.

"Then perhaps you'd like to?" Cole smirked. Kai blinked, making Cole grin wider. "I was thinking of hosting a ball soon since that ballroom hasn't been used in years and the staff has been dying to use it, so perhaps, having an event where the whole castle may enjoy the evening is the best idea."

"Really?" Kai blinked in surprise. He didn't think Cole was the party type and his only experience was the boring affairs Morro hosted. Then again, if Echo was designing the evening and Jay and Ronin were in charge under Zane's supervision, he had no doubt it would be an enjoyable night. Cole nodded with a smile as he leaned forward, wrapping his free arm possessively around Kai's waist.

"You would do me a grand honor by being my date for the evening?"

"I'd love to!" Kai burst, enthusiastically. Cole was taken aback by the suddenness but laughed at Kai's spryness.

"Are you sure, Kai?" Cole teased, releasing him slightly. "You wouldn't mind attending a romantic affair with someone old enough to be your ancestor? I am, after all, 121 years?"

"Nope, not unless you mind going out in public with an immature teenager who's not yet twenty, would you?" Kai countered, his eyes lighting up at the game.

"Not in the slightest," Cole responded. Neither of them broke eye contact until finally they couldn't contain themselves any longer and they broke into a fit of amusement. Their pearls of laughter could be heard all the way from the ballroom...

#The Flame and the Dragon #beauty and the beast #ninjago #ninjago jay #ninjago kai #ninjago cole #ninjago echo #ninjago ronin #ninjago tox #lavashipping

5 notes · View notes