Hanahaki Fanfics

Alyssums (OUAT Jefferson x Reader)

A/N: Please read the trigger warnings in the book description. Also this is in first person, no use of Y/N.

You can interpret your character as anyone. There are several fairytales that involve a character being isolated by their mother, or you could even make up your own. 

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I stare at the counter, shocked at the small white flowers speckled in red. This hadn't happened before. Then again, I've never really crushed on someone before. Mom made sure I couldn't.

"Are you okay, honey? Did this happen earlier?" Mary Margaret, Snow, places a soft hand on my shoulder. She looks a little too worried about something that usually clears up quickly.

"Yeah, I'm fine. And no, this is the first time it's happening. I'll be okay." She and Ruby exchange an unconvinced look before turning back to me. Oh no...

Ruby picks up one of the flowers. "Alyssums. And you were just talking about a certain hatter visiting your shop..."

"Your point is?"

A sad look creeps onto her face. "I know this is just from perceived unrequited feelings, but... I don't think he'd ever be capable of loving someone after Priscilla."

Snow joins in. "You'll have to get the surgery. Jefferson just doesn't seem to be over his grief."

I shrug. "Or I can wait the stupid feelings out so I can find someone else. I'm not giving up my chances on love because of some poetic lung disease."

They both still look worried, but give me a small smile and nod. "Whatever you choose."

A month passes and it gets worse. I thought it'd be gone by now, but it just won't die. I wake up every morning to vomit petals blood. I have to keep several trashcans by me at all times in the shop. I had to hire help because it's gotten hard to breathe.

And he still doesn't know it's him. Jefferson comes by almost every day, either by himself or with Grace. The first time he saw the flowers he was concerned but kept it to himself. The sixth time he asked if I was okay. The twelfth time he asked if I needed a ride to the hospital.

Today he looks at the circle of full trash bags behind me, all filled with blood and flowers, and balls his hands into fists.

"Who is it? If you're that scared to tell them and they're too cowardly to do anything, then I think someone needs to talk to them."

I sigh and cough, shaking my head. "No one. It'll go away."

He grits his teeth. "It clearly isn't going away. You're dying. You need help. If you won't get the surgery, then you might as well just tell them."

"You know rejection means instant death. It's suicide."

"Does it matter when you're already killing yourself?!" Tears start falling from his eyes and my own widen. Why does he care so much? Does he know? Please, no-

"Please... Please just do something, anything, other than waiting for death. I can't stand to watch you kill yourself over this. I- I-" More years flow as he starts coughing into his handkerchief. He pulls it back and panic sets in his eyes.

Bloody flowers in full bloom lay on the cloth. Three big, fully bloomed, flowers. Promising a painful death coming.

"Jefferson..."

He quickly tosses them, shaking his head. "Don't worry about me. We're talking about you and your stupid decision."

"My stupid decision? You're in need of help more than me! Oh my god, Jefferson, you fucking idiot. What about Grace?"

He frowns as he coughs up another flower. "I'll get help before anything bad happens. I just needed one last chance..."

Last chance? What does he- Oh. Oh my god. This was risky, but it was worth it.

I grab his hand and look him in the eye, startling him. "Jefferson, I need to tell you something." Confusion takes over those charming features, and I smile sadly. This might be my last time seeing his face.

Now or never.

"I love you." Vines grow rapidly and I can feel flowers blooming all throughout my lungs. Petals and blood start to suffocate me. But then I'm pulled forward and feel warm lips on mine.

"I love you too. Please don't leave me."

The garden in my body retracts and dissolves, leaving my airways free to breathe again. I kiss back, ignoring the metallic taste in favor of the comforting embrace.

As we pull away, he grips my waist and starts leading me out of the shop. "Now let's get to the hospital. Those internal lacerations won't heal themselves."

Everything after is a blur, but I don't really care. I'm safe now. Jefferson is safe. And we love each other. And we know because of a fucking plant in our lungs.

Thanks, flower tuberculosis.