Sleeper Creature 💤💤

As far back as you can remember, you knew you had a love for caring. No matter the person, friend, family, perhaps even foe, you knew deep in your heart that everybody deserved to be cared for. Throughout your years, you had cared for many individuals, injured Floradinns and Shinobeetles after a strange fight between the two. Often rather than not, the other flowers would flock to you whenever they had pricked their delicate fingers on a thorn, or when Green had accidentally cut their finger in the kitchen.

You’re a medic of sorts, a protector of those vulnerable. Mainly, when you weren’t required by the general citizen, you spent your time caring for Flowery, and frankly his big ego too. Sometimes it was more difficult to amend his bruised psyche than to sort out any lesion on his perfect skin.

Which was what happened after the battle at Flower Castle. Throughout the whole ordeal, you were elsewhere, busy with aiding a whining Kawkaw who had taken a hit to its precious wing. Only the call of one of the flowers, accompanied by a small, fluffy boy in green clothing, brought you to the scene.

With your perfected talent, many stitches and hours of formulating correct medicines, Flowery was going to be alright, only at the expense of his magic. Safe to say he was devastated.

Since that moment, you were strictly in charge of taking care of the once magical man, Flowery. He wasn’t easy to take care of; he would moan and whine about lots of things, often reminiscing about his previous days. It was hard to listen to, especially as you recalled his old personality and how much he loved his freedom. Though, it never deterred you from giving him more than adequate care.

✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩★✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩

“Precious! Precious, where are you?!”

Flowery nicknamed you this upon seeing your glassy iridescent skin months ago. Did you like it? So-so.

You heard Flowery’s soft cries for you from the other room, where you were preparing his clothing for the following day. At this moment in time, Flowery had little control over his body, the deep laceration the Knight gave him leaving him with damage to his internal roots. In divine timing, they will amend, yet for now, you’re in charge.

“Yes, Flowery?” you respond softly, swiftly entering his room with delicate steps. You have always been so soft and tender in your movements.

The man’s face softens when he sees you enter the room. “Ah, there you are. I was just thinking… whether we could just chat? I’m realising we only really have small talk going on, and I want to get to know who’s taking care of me.” He speaks timidly. You’ve never seen a usually confident guy speak with such a tremor in his voice.

The sweetest of smiles emerges from the corners of your lips, your body moving to settle on the edge of his perfectly made bed despite his presence.

It was obvious he was infatuated with you, but you would doubt yourself, as Flowery’s flirty with everybody, isn’t he? Though, did his cheeks turn orange in everybody’s presence, or just yours?

“What do you want to talk about?” you question. Your body melts into the softness of his mattress, like marshmallows on an open fire. One arm by your waist, the other holding your weight as you look down at the butter-yellow boy before you. Across his forearms, a scatter of baby flowers, the way that flowers scar. It was tedious fixing him up this way, but you’re infinitely glad you succeeded.

“He’s so pretty,” you can’t help but think. He’s wonderful, with sparkling eyes and flawless skin. If he weren’t a plant, he would be the sun.

He remains silent for a moment, obviously not thinking through what he actually wanted to talk about. He just wanted a pathetic excuse to talk to his stunning carer.

“Are you going to say anything or just stare at me?” you giggle, watching with joy as his face burns a deeper shade of sunset orange. You’ve never seen him in such a state.

“I was just… just noticing how pretty your hair looks today.” Flowery utters under his breath. Timidness looks sweet on him. An appreciative giggle escapes your lips after hearing his kind words, trying not to get flustered yourself. With an exchanged “thank you”, a conversation blooms. It twists and turns between playful banter and a dip into his past, and eventually it spreads into his more detailed thoughts and feelings prior to his wounds.

It feels like hours since you started talking. Not that you could complain; knowing Flowery had so much trust in you made you all fuzzy. He proceeds to tell you everything.

“Before the Knight… left me with this…” Flowery lifts his shirt to show off his blooming scar once more. “I used to be capable of so much. I was confident, flattering… although Raly didn’t appreciate it in the slightest. They were good kids… they didn’t want to hurt anybody. I was the one at fault… I said a spiteful thing about closing their dark foundation so we could keep our own… it was… selfish of me.” Flowery sputters; this level of vulnerability obviously alien to him.

As much as it is heartbreaking to see him lose his confidence, a part of you glows with a new type of happiness, a proud blossoming feeling that he’s able to be open and vulnerable with you.

“I grew up so lucky, people flocked to me like birds, the ladies too.” A smirk crosses his face. “But… I feel like my charm is gone now… I’m stuck in my room, healing and unable to see how everyone is doing after the Knight showed up. Oh, I hope Raly is doing okay… he’s a great kid, you know? Although he didn’t like me, he still tried to help even when I was on the verge of death. I wish I could’ve properly thanked him for it…”

“It’s not your fault, Flowery.” You slip your soft hand under his chin to get him to meet your gaze. The glow of his skin reflects off your fingertips, like holding a buttercup under your chin in the prime of spring. Upon hearing those words, Flowery finds it hard to look away from you. He holds your gaze to his, listening so intently to what you have to say.

“You had no way of knowing what the Knight was going to do. You wanted to protect Asgore, didn’t you?”

He nods.

“Exactly, you did it for a good cause. This is your home, our home; of course, you’re going to be defensive about it. It doesn’t make you any less likeable. I promise.”

Orange blooms deeper in his cheeks.

“I guess… Gosh, I hope Asgore’s okay— I don’t know where the Knight could’ve taken him…” his voice wavers and wobbles as he speaks.

He doesn’t want to admit it. He won’t. But Flowery, despite his levels of high self-respect and admiration, feels like a failure. His attempt to rescue his dearest friend had fallen flat, and left him in a state where he’s unable to even try and find him. Under the surface of perfect looks and charming personality, Flowery is breaking into little pieces. Nights of tossing and turning amidst a stinging stomach interrupted his beauty sleep, his dreams plagued with that unfortunate day and fixations of where his best friend could be.

“I’m sure he’s okay, Flowery… try not to beat yourself up about it, okay?” you cup his cheek. It’s warm and tender under your palms. His golden eyes speak more than words ever could.

Gratitude. Friendship. Love? Whatever it may be, you’re all he needs right now.

“Let me get you some water.”

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Saying goodnight to Flowery when the sun had set across the horizon was always a special part of your day. Seeing him tucked in and drowsy at such an early hour was admirable. In spite of his frequently restless dreams, he would never be short of his eight-hour kip. Anything for the health of his hair and skin, right?

Over the next few days, you and Flowery talked more and more, instead of your interactions being strictly medical. One of these days, Flowery sits at his vanity, looking across his shirtless torso. His graceful fingers trace a tender line across where he had been split. Baby buttercups and daisies dance across the area, warping between his fingers and tickling his palms. It’s how they scar, in elegance and grace.

In the pristine reflection of his mirror, he spots your physique stood, watching him play with the new blooms inside his skin.

“Oh, hey.” Flowery sighs, turning himself over to face you directly.

“Looking good.” you mention.

Flowery could almost feel his knees going weak, if it’s even possible for him to be weaker right now. His nonchalance also happens to fail him this time?

His words come out jumbled and tied up like a slip knot. “Ah! Good looking?? Or… looking good…? What did you say? I can barely… remember… thanks!”

“Your scars are healing well, hon. Fresh flowers are a good sign.”

“Oh, right… of course.”

Sweaty palms slip through his blonde locs as he tries to lower his heart rate, though it comes to no avail.

“…but you are good-looking though.”

He could’ve had a heart attack. Flowery’s body stiffens into place, his eyes falling on you pretty much instantly. He’s suddenly aware of how bare his top half is.

“You… you think?” he stammers, his cheeks going the deepest shade of orange you’ve ever seen on him. You nod, slowly approaching him closer until he finds himself backed up against his desk, knocking over a bottle of cherry blossom-scented hairspray in the process. “A-ah… you’re… awfully close…” he rambles, his growing smile letting you know he won’t protest against your approach.

“Do you want me to move?”

“No! No, please stay… right where you are…” he gulps. He thinks he might burst any second, like a birthday card that explodes with confetti upon opening. He wouldn’t be surprised if you could hear his swollen heart pounding or feel it against your palms.

“You’re real pretty, aren’t you, Flowery?”

“I- I don’t-“

“You are… I mean your hair is perfect every day, your skin glows so gorgeously both in and out of the sun… your perfect smile, toned body…”

“You’re gonna drive me crazy, love-“

“And?”

Pop!!

A deep giggle escapes your chest as you watch a golden flower pop out the end of his nose. It’s something he’s talked about before, but you’ve never seen it happen before. Whenever Flowery’s heavily flustered or overjoyed, flowers begin to bloom either on his body or in any surrounding areas. Instantly, Flowery brings up his hand to cover the bud, but you catch his arms before he can get there.

“Let me see.”

Flowery could explode at the sight of your gorgeous face analysing his, and it’s dangerous territory.

Pop!! Pop!!

Two more buds by his hairline, and there’s no stopping them now. By where his hands rest on his vanity, many precious golden flowers begin to emerge on top of the mahogany.

“I— this… happens sometimes!” he manages to push out, half humiliated and half living his dream. Your lack of verbal response gags him for a moment, watching as you move your fingers up to brush the newfound plants on his face. “Not that you seem to care…”

“You’re really cute, Flowery. This is all for me?”

He lets out a shaky “mhm”. Poor guy, he has no idea what to do with himself. Usually, he has the upper hand, able to sway ladies and gentlemen with so much ease. Not today. Today, he was the victim of such teasing.

“Not used to this, are you?”

“Nuh uh… it’s… not awful being on the receiving end…” Flowery chuckles and a beat passes. Over the following minutes, all you do is sprinkle little compliments and touches all over him, sparkling him up really pretty, also advancing to touch his sensitive scars. He’s like putty in your hands. He gasps and shudders as you touch his chest and stomach, a silent plea for you not to stop.

In the course of time, after lots of self-encouragement, Flowery brings himself to cup the back of your neck as you caress him. His touch distracts you from your trance of tracing shapes across his frame. His eyes meet yours with a desperate question in mind. His lips part, his tongue slithering across his perfect lips as he awaits your next move. No words need to be uttered. With a bow of your head, letting him know your stance, Flowery tilts his head.

With precise slowness, he closes the gap between you two, giving you a soft kiss on your lips. His feel is warm and welcoming against your own, like you’re right where you’re meant to be. Neither of you escalates, just bathing in the romantic light of the kiss. You couldn’t ask for anything more right now.

After several seconds, you both pull away, cheeks burning like hot coals.

“So, um… lunch?” Flowery suggests.

“Was I not enough?” you tease.

Flowery leans in to you again, making sure you know he’s dead serious. He looks so bewildered with love right now you can hardly believe the way he’s looking at you.

“More than enough, but I want to treat you to something really special, especially made for you.”

That evening, the two of you find yourselves having dinner together, curled up in his bedsheets. There’s nothing you would change. In your peripheral, you can still see the golden bouquets on his vanity that he had accidentally bloomed not two hours ago. A sign of the effect you have on him. A sign that he truly feels safe with you.

A clear signpost of how much he loves you.

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