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bigilante · 3 years

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〖 her best friend ❣ zendaya 〗

「 zendaya x gender-neutral!reader 」 ┅ 「 2.7k words 」

: a.n : back at it again with the unsolicited fics :)) i hope you guys like it 👉🏼👈🏼

⤷ : prompt : separated forcefully or for reasons you can’t control, run into each other again years later on accident.

“Do you think they’ll ever stop making headlines calling us ‘very good friends’?” You halfheartedly laughed at yet another Instagram post by some magazine that showed you and Zendaya out and about LA. “Like, the minute you hang out with any guy they’re like, ‘Oh! Date alert!’ But I’m just your ‘best friend’” You were ranting now, unable to hide the annoyance you felt.

“Why does it matter what they say?” Zendaya quizzed, her hands playing with the waist string of your sweats. She looked up at you from her slumped down position on the sofa, her faint frown making you sigh.

“Because... don’t you feel is a bit homophobic?” You wondered, placing your phone face down on top of your stomach to give her your full attention. The brunette just shrugged nonchalantly and you let out another sigh picking your phone again to close the app, “I’m gonna head out.” It was best to just leave then, you didn’t want to get in a stupid argument with her not before you were set to leave for New York the very next morning. You began to incorporate but Zendaya’s hands gripped your thighs keeping them draped over hers.

“Y/n, come on.” She said, gorgeous hazel eyes pleading at you. What exactly? You had no idea but for a second, you were about to give in however a loud ding coming from your phone stopped you. Your eyes scanned the screen and the reminder that had popped up read ‘PACK ! 4 ! N Y C !’, you sent her an apologetic glance before getting off the sofa, gathering your stuff and petting Noon goodbye.

Zendaya had stood up from the sofa too, watching your every move intently, probably trying to figure out if you were upset with her. The truth was, you didn’t know if you were upset with her or with the media, it was possible that both had a little part in your now sour mood. “See you next week, best friend. Love you.” You joked before swinging the front door open and leaving. The week was going to feel like a month, you knew, but the hope that making that simple joke followed by the declaration would ease things up was strong.

But what did hopefulness ever bring if not disappointment and heartache?

Seeing medium-quality paparazzi pictures of your girlfriend as soon as you landed from a five-hour flight wasn’t exactly the way you wanted to be welcomed to New York. You sat quietly in the back of an Uber trying not to cry as your eyes stared at the images on your phone. A series of pictures of Zendaya and Tom leaving her house, —they must had been taken that morning while you were on your way to the airport— the further you scrolled down the Twitter trends the more you felt like throwing up. Them in his car. Tom’s hand reaching for Zendaya’s jaw. Both leaning in. Kissing. Laughing.

It felt like a punch to the face, it was the worst feeling you had ever endured and the people that caused it were the last you would’ve thought could ever dare to hurt you. Your trembling hands fumbled with the settings on your account, privating it and blocking her and Tom, doing the same with Instagram followed by their numbers on your phone. It felt like doing a cleansing, the pressure in your chest easing only minimally when you locked your phone and looked out into the running city. You wanted to scream and cry, break stuff, throw your phone away and not show to work, you just wanted to go hide in your Airbnb for the rest of the week and pretend you and Zendaya never happened.

The reality was that you two had happened and it was far too hard to pretend it didn’t, your heart ached both physically and metaphorically and you hated every second of it. For that week you spent in New York no one shut up about the photos, every person you worked with had that hot, brand new ‘goss’ about the pair that had hurt you so badly.

You sat in the quiet living room of the apartment you had been living in whilst in the big city, laptop sitting in front of you as you cancelled your flight back to LA, changing the tab to the Airbnb’s one to pay for a few more days. You had been holding yourself together the whole time you were there, work keeping you busy and sleeping pills doing their magic at the end of the day but it could only go so far. Glassy, stinging eyes stared blankly at the empty inbox of your email, the cursed images projecting over the blank space and you just weren’t strong enough anymore, you couldn’t, so you cried and choked and screamed until your throat and eyes were sore; until your whole body was drained of every bit of energy.

Little by little you were sweeping your life clean of her, clearing out your phone’s camera roll, changing your number. Deleting social media was a big no for your job so filtering everything and anything that had to do with them was the only option, that and spending little to no time online. You had stopped to think one night of the what-ifs of the situation, you were aware that Zendaya’s publicist wasn’t so happy about you and her dating publically and Tom’s was obsessed with boosting the Spider-man movies at all cost, still, giving you a heads up about it would had been the right thing to do.

For a year and a half, you made yourself busy, going back and forth wasn’t something you enjoyed but it worked to avoid unwanted visits and accidental encounters. Enough time had passed, you thought as you stopped booking in so many clients across the country and settled back in your LA home. “You know what? I could go for a thick, sugary milkshake, right now.” Naomi told you as you put down your half-empty box of fried noodles on the coffee table.

“Are you serious?” You asked incredulous receiving an enthusiastic nod from your friend. “Naomi, we just had Chinese and you wanna wash it down with a milkshake?” She rolled her eyes at you when you pointed it out.

“Fine, what about Bubble U? Bubble tea is Chinese isn’t it?” She offered, her question prompting you to send her an unamused glare. “Yep, Bubble U it is, then!” Naomi jumped up, going straight to the door. Reluctantly you got up from the floor, groaning all the way to the door where you got ready to go out, “Come on! It’ll be fun!” She chirped while she pulled you out of the house. You hated to admit it but you had completely modified your life after the heartbreak, once you settled back home you barely left it, you didn’t attend parties unless it was for work or go out with your friends unless it was at any of their houses. You didn’t walk around the city that often anymore in fear of bumping into her.

“I miss this.” You sighed as you walked down Chinatown with your friend, the coldness of your drink pleasant against the palm of your hand. “Just walking around town.” You continued taking a sip of the milk tea.

“I still don’t get why you had to stop going out with us.” Naomi said inciting you to turn to look at her, “I mean, I know why it’s just… you didn’t have to stop.” She rephrased it giving you an apologetic glance. You knew how much your friends hated the idea of you not being able to be you after the whole thing with Zendaya and Tom happened but it was your way of coping with it and even though they didn’t agree with it, they supported you.

“Well, I’m outside now, aren’t I?” You nudged her side with your elbow making her giggle as she nudged you back. “Maybe this is me getting back to my old self.” Hope laced your every word as you looked around the busy street. The way the golden light of the setting sun washed over the buildings made the outing worth the risk.

LA was the second-largest city in the United States, with a population of nearly four million that one could think the chances of crossing paths with a lover-turned-stranger was one in millions, yet, there you were rooted to the pavement as your wide eyes stared at the tall and thin figure coming out of one of the many restaurants that dotted the street. “Come on, let’s go back.” Naomi said, placing her hand on the crook of your elbow ready to pull you out of there but something inside your chest told you to keep moving forward.

So you did, you started walking again letting your friend’s hand slip away from you. She was quick to follow, whisper-shouting at you that whatever you were doing probably wasn’t the best idea. The closer you got to her the more nervous you felt, it’s been over a year since you last saw her and god, was she even more beautiful than before; long legs clagged in camel coloured trousers, feet sporting her beloved black converse. Her top was white, a little see-through and you cursed at how much it still drove you absolutely crazy in the most irritating sense.

Curls tucked into an elastic on top of her head in a carefree and relaxed way, a few stubborn strands hanging out framing her face and gracing her neck. She was laughing loudly at something Darnell said, that laugh you had forced yourself to forget but the second it hit your ears, you realised how badly you had missed it. Then everything stopped, Naomi’s panicked telling off, Darnell’s chatting and Zendaya’s laughing. It all had stopped but the rambling around the four of you.

You stood in front of Darnell while Naomi stood in front of Zendaya, your friend’s usually amicable attitude disrupted by the scowl on her face as she glared Zendaya’s way only the brunette’s pupils were set on you with no apparent intention of averting. “It’s you,” She breathed out, hope barely perceivable in her tone. You only hummed at the observation, your eyes moving from hers down to her hands that were gripping the long lanyard that held her phone around her neck. Her nerves were evident then, the intensity with which she clutched it seemed to be draining the blood flow from her fingers. “I— How—” Zendaya tried to speak but failed, letting out a shaky breath. “How have you been?”

“Are you fucking kidding me!?” Naomi protested, you understood where your friend was coming from but you also needed that, you needed to speak to Zendaya just one more time to be able to finally let everything go. You needed her to confirm your theory just so you could move on and Darnell seemed to be on the same page as you for he stepped in between you and Naomi, throwing his arm around her shoulders to guide her away from you two. You heard her object some more but ultimately she complied and walked away.

“I’ve been fine. You?” You eventually spoke after short but agonising seconds of silence.

“I don’t know. There are good days among the terrible ones, so... fine, I guess?” She shrugged a shoulder. With a nod of your head, you looked past her over her shoulder to see a man pointing a camera at you, you were about to warn her when she began speaking again. “Y/n, I’m so sorry about—” Zendaya started but you shook your head no making her stop, you realised then that you did want to talk to her but not on the street in front of that many people and certainly not when there were paparazzi nearby.

“Heard the movie did well.” Your tongue betrayed your brain. Zendaya tried to speak once more but you cut her again. “I’m glad it did. Made it all worth it, didn’t it?” You faked a small smile nearly choking on the words, the anxious lump in your throat threatening to cut your airflow.

“No, It didn’t.” Zendaya denied taking a step closer to you forcing you to hold your breath with the sudden move. “I was a total asshole to you before you left, then Marla wanted me and Tom to do that for a while and I don’t even know why I did it.” She ranted in one breath.

“I upset you.” The statement earned you a furious head shake from the tall girl. “I did. I kept bugging you about the articles,” You carried on, inconspicuously your eyes started to line with tears. The more you talked the more you realised that maybe, just maybe there was a bit of blame in you too, however, that didn’t mean Zendaya was absolved from any. “You never said a thing to me about the stunt.”

“I felt like I didn’t need to, I wasn’t gonna do it.”

“But you did. The morning I left LA.” You mumbled, trying to hide from the second man with a camera that had appeared closer than the first.

“Fuck, I know it was a shitty thing to do and I’m sorry,” She took another small step forward.

“You always told me kissing in public wasn’t your thing.” You exposed, tears irrevocably breaking the surface tension and cascading down your cheeks. Flicking your gaze up at her you saw nothing but hurt and regret written all over her gorgeous face and your heart squeezed at the sight. She had never spoken about it and neither had you asked, you just felt it in your heart that she was scared of how the media would treat you both if they ever found out you were dating, you knew the times had changed but there were still closed-minded people that ran gossip magazines and could make your lives a living hell the moment they caught you holding hands in public or worst, kissing.

The murmuring around you increased, reminding you that you were in a very public place crying in front of your secret ex-girlfriend. “Fuck that.” Zendaya grumbled. One moment she was a small step away from you and the next her hands were cupping your face and her lips were softly pressed against yours. The action took your breath away instantly, still, you found yourself powerless against the familiar taste and feel of her and allowed her to kiss you as long as she wanted to in front of how many people she wanted to. There were yelps and gasps all around the two of you and you started to regain conscience and pulled away.

Wide, watery eyes staring up at the girl mere inches away from your face. “Th-there’s pap—”

“I don’t care.” She whispered before she captured your lips once more, this time deeper and twice as intensely as the first time. Your hands scurried to her waist, bringing her flush to your body as you kissed her back gladly, desperately wanting her lips to make the past year bleep out of your core memories.

The night went by slowly as if the universe was granting you more time to spend in the arms of the girl you loved. She never once let a second of silence go by you, filling it with a whispered apology and a kiss. You talked about everything the time you spent apart brought to both of you, she told you about firing her publicist right after the pictures came out, about how she understood why you had cut her off without any explanation and how bad both her and Tom felt with the whole thing.

Articles flooded the internet that very night as well as the next morning, however, neither of you knew of them right away for any device that could be hooked to a WiFi signal was rightfully turned off while you basked in the presence of each other under the covers of Zendaya’s bed.

“Spider-man Star Zendaya shares intense kiss with BFF, Celeb Stylist y/n l/n in the middle of Chinatown! Swipe to see the pictures!”

It might be 2021 but some things refused to change.

【 thank you so much for reading! ♡ please, consider reblogging and letting me know what you thought of this ♡ kit xx 】

#zendaya x reader #zendaya x you #zendaya imagine #zendaya fanfic #wlw fanfic #softfics #angst to fluff #gender neutral reader

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sehunniepotwrites · 3 years

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sakura kiss | n.yt

PART III OF FOR YOU IN FULL BLOOM: THE HANAHAKI COLLECTION

🌸 synopsis—the four times you noticed yuta’s love for flowers and the one time you realized it was not the flowers he was in love with

🌸 genre— would you be so kind? universe ; hanahaki!au, university!au, flower shop!au, angst, romance, slight fluff, mutual pining, strangers to lovers!au 🌸 pairing— art student/florist!yuta x art student!reader (f) 🌸 word count— 9000+

🌸 warnings — cursing; mentions of coughing, vomiting, hospital visits, death (no one dies!!), two idiots in love

🌸 author’s note—so i finished a fic with my favorite trope in time for my birthday today (dec 11th) and i’m posting to celebrate! it all started with this tweet that said yuta used to work at a flower shop and enjoyed drawing the plants during his free time!

this was a fun write and it takes place in the same verse as wybsk, which is linked above! you can read sakura kiss as a stand alone or after wybsk to get a better understanding of two scenes! to those you came from my mark fic, i gave yn a name (kira)!

but here she is! enjoy and be sure to tell me what you think!! i love feedback uwu

Nakamoto Yuta, you noticed, was an unusual fellow. He was your senior in the art department, a fourth-year preparing for his graduation while you were a couple of semesters behind him. Other than his small circle of friends, the foreign exchange student kept to himself, burying his handsome face in his sketchbook. You had classes together before but those were large lectures with over fifty students in the room— this was the first time you shared a small studio lab with him.

Barely interacting with him in the past, you were determined to change that no matter how intimidating Yuta was.

Were you intimidated by his extremely good looks or his unmatched talents in the fine arts? Both. Definitely both. He turned heads without fail and when he smiled, oh my god, you thought he was the sun. Yuta was pretty, beyond pretty even, with his striking face, brown eyes, and perfect body proportions.

To add on top of his perfection, his art style was immaculate. The artist never failed to steal your breath away with a couple of strokes and a swipe of his blessed hand. Anything he touched turned to gold. Never sharing those thoughts with him in the past, you made a firm decision to tell your senior this coming semester.

Yuta sat at the easel next to you, barely two feet away from your station. His sketchbook and drawing utensils were already splayed out on the holder. He was fiddling with his phone to pass the time, his painted nails rapidly hitting his touchscreen. How did Yuta make something so mundane as checking his phone look so ethereal? The inner most thoughts in your head cursed whatever beings lived in the beyond for not endowing you with such looks.

You gulped, gathering up the courage to talk to him. “Hey,” you greeted shyly.

Hey? That was the best you could do?

Yuta turned towards you, gaze shifting away from his phone. “Hey,” he said back with a slight curve of the lip.

“I don’t know if you remember me but we had a couple of classes together last semester,” you forced yourself to say with an awkward smile.

He grinned and his teeth sunk into his bottom lip, almost like he was holding back a laugh. “Yeah, no, of course, I remember you.” Your name slips from his mouth, causing your awkward smile to turn into a genuine one. His tone is kind and his voice is low, sending shivers down your spine.

You tried your best to keep the conversation going, wanting to finally compliment him on his work but your professor entered the room and called for everyone’s attention. He handed out the syllabus to a student upfront and around the papers went, signifying the start of your first class. Yuta shot you an apologetic look, conveying that you could always continue the conversation later.

The overview of the course’s syllabus was always the boring part of the first days. Your eyes glazed over, still not fully awake from rising early, and you tried to shake the sleepiness away. Stealing a glance at Yuta, you almost laughed at how his easel was angled in a way to hide that he wasn’t paying any attention. His syllabus outline was discarded off to the side and Yuta’s hands were moving rapidly, sketching out a large tree in full bloom in a page of his notebook.

It looked like flower petals raining from the branches and a person leaning against the tree trunk, hiding underneath the shade. His sketching speed and quality amazed you— how exactly did he sketch that fast and that beautifully?

You made sure your professor wasn’t looking in your direction before nudging Yuta’s side to grab his attention. He snapped out of his drawing daze and turned to you with widened eyes. A red seeped into his ears and pale cheeks, but you missed it completely, eyes zoned in on his quick draw.

“Hm?”

“That’s really good,” you whispered.

He rubbed the back of his neck at your compliment. “It’s just a quick sketch,” Yuta tried to play it off. He was never one to take compliments so well.

You leaned over to get a closer look. Noticing you almost falling off your stool, Yuta shifted his easel slightly closer to yours. “Is that a cherry blossom tree?”

He nodded, “Yeah, they’ve been on my mind a lot.”

“Do they remind you of home?” you asked. You couldn’t imagine being an exchange student in a foreign country— you would miss home too much.

“Yeah but that’s not really the reason why I’m drawing them,” he replied. His eyes shifted to a look of pain or discomfort as if he was reminded of a scarring memory. You watched him closely to make sure he was okay. He cleared his throat before letting out a couple of concealed coughs, face digging into his shoulder.

“You alright, Nakamoto?” You were too embarrassed to call him by his first name.

“Yeah, I’m good. Just a little cough.” Yuta gave you a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “And you can just call me Yuta, you know?”

“Right, noted,” the name felt so foreign on your tongue.

“I have cough drops in my bag if you want some,” you offered, already reaching down to grab your backpack. He quickly dismissed you, telling you it wasn’t necessary.

Continuing to watch him sketch, you admired the way Yuta fussed over the smallest details— the lining, the shading, etc. It was nothing more than a simple sketch but if it was gifted to you, it would be framed and hung for the world to see.

He really was an artistic genius.

“Cherry blossoms are my favorite flowers,” you said.

You were too absorbed in his drawing to hear him mutter, “I know.”

“You say something?”

Yuta cleared his throat again with a pained expression. His hand held his neck for a second before shaking his head. “I said, they used to be mine too.”

Huh, you never really picked him as the flower loving type.

—🌸—

This was the third time Nakamoto Yuta had flowers growing in his chest and he hated it.

It was less painful the first two times around, probably because they were nothing more than fleeting crushes. He was in high school then, wholly infatuated with two different students during those years. Yuta followed them around like a lovesick puppy, all smiles and waiting on their hands and feet. He coughed a couple of petals out and it caused some uneasiness, but after being rejected harshly, Yuta pushed himself to move on.

The pain of high school rejection could never compare to the dull ache he was feeling as he looked at you. There you were, the person he secretly admired for the past two semesters, merely two feet away at your own easel.

You looked so in your element, eyebrows knitted and pencil in hand as you sketched away. A sight so captivating, Yuta almost forgot to breathe. Being an artist himself, he wanted to preserve that image on a canvas but he didn’t think his hand could do you justice. No pencil sketch, no painted canvas, no marble or clay sculpture could even compare to you.

This was more than puppy love. More than infatuation. Yuta was sure of it but how was he to let you know? You barely knew each other and a confession out of nowhere wouldn’t be the best way to get acquainted.

Perhaps another time, he thought to himself, before turning back to his sketch.

You would’ve never guessed that Yuta Nakamoto had a thing for flowers but he did.

Then again, you didn’t really know what he had a thing for to begin with— your friendship just started to bloom. It was like a bud barely opening under the sunlight; with each interaction, there was something new you learned about the quiet yet charismatic art major.

You knew he was a Japanese exchange student that majored in art, that was a given. You recently learned he loved cherry blossoms and that watercolor was his favorite art medium yet you still wanted to learn more.

The first time you ran into him outside of class was in the university library. Yuta sat at one of the tables, his space surrounded by books on flowers. There were books on the language, arrangements, and gardening tips. His face was deep into his sketchbook once again, back bent over the desk but his focused eyes darted back and forth between his drawing and his page of reference.

Yuta didn’t even notice as you hovered over him, debating on whether you should say hi. Even with your shadow casting over his body, his deep concentration never faltered.

His page was filled with various plants and flowers, little notes in a messy scrawl right under their pictures. He was currently drawing cherry blossoms, the page he was referring to showcasing the anatomy of the famous flower.

“Cherry blossoms again, Yuta?” you broke the silence.

Your voice startled him, causing his pencil to slip from the artist’s grip. It made an accidental mark and you whispered an apology as he clicked his tongue.

“Don’t worry about it, nothing an eraser can’t fix,” Yuta reassured you as he rid his paper of the unwanted mark. He blew the eraser bits of his page, hand sweeping his surface clean. He offered you the seat next to him and you gladly took it.

“So, why are you always sketching flowers?” you posed as your hand gestured to all the books he had on his person.

“They’re beautiful, don’t you think?” he answered with another question. He gave you a cheeky little grin, his lips widening to show off his beautiful pearly whites.

“Well, yeah.”

“It’s a shame they die so easily,” Yuta said, fingers running over his sketches. “Beautiful but fleeting.”

“But that’s life, isn’t it?”

“I guess it is.”

You hummed at his answer. “You’re really passionate about flowers, aren’t you?”

“Something like that. I actually work at a flower shop nearby, maybe you’ve seen it?” Yuta fiddled with the front pocket of his backpack to pull out a business card. “I like learning about the meanings to help the customers in the shop, amongst other things.”

You took the card from his grip, examining it. For You in Full Bloom was printed largely on the thin piece of cardboard. Staring at the name, you wondered why it sounded so familiar until it hit you.

“Oh, I pass by it everyday while walking to campus! I live two blocks away from the shop.” Your smile grew wider and he smiled back for a second before his face contorted into one that conveyed pain.

Yuta turned away from you to cough into his hand, his free one hastily digging into his pocket. He pulled out a handkerchief and began to cough into that. Shocked by his sudden sick fit, you quickly patted him on the back, hoping it would help him hack out whatever was lodged in his throat.

You saw him peek into the small square of fabric and wince at whatever it caught. He cleared his throat before turning back to you. “Sorry,” Yuta muttered, rubbing the front of his neck to soothe it. Placing a cough drop in his hand, he took it without complaint and popped it in his mouth. The relieved sigh he let out made you feel slightly less worried.

“You’re still sick?” you frowned. “You should really get that checked out, you know?”

He waved you off, “It’s nothing serious, I swear. What were we talking about again?”

“Cherry blossoms?”

“Your favorite flower.”

“And yours,” you added.

He hummed, “And mine.” There was a solemn tone behind his words but before you could press on the subject, he coughed again.

“Did you know that they’re also a symbol of renewal?”

Shaking your head, you urged your classmate to continue.

“Cherry blossoms hold the bittersweet meaning of life and death but they also bring the message of new beginnings.”

—🌸—

Yuta just wished when it came to you and him, the flowers meant the start of something new but no— instead, they just reminded him of the ache in his chest.

They reminded Yuta of how alive he was but also how he was one step closer to his grave.

Yes, you were merely classmates but he felt like he knew you solely from all the stories that were shared by your mutual friends in the art department. Ten and Taeyong sang praises on how thoughtful you were, always helping professors clean their studios after hours. Sicheng brought up how passionate you were about your major— Yuta himself bore witness to this many times during lectures and he wanted to know more about you.

A lot of charm filled your figure and it was enchanting, it really wasn’t that hard for him to fall.

Yuta fell for you much like the blossoms from the cherry trees.

And just like the blossoms, his time was fleeting but you were so completely unaware.

You left the library first, having forgotten that you had office hours with a professor. He watched you leave, eyes fixed onto your back.

Someone once said that you become miserable if you love someone too much. Yuta believed that to be true. There was a pang in his chest, heart racing against his rib cage as a stronger nausea attack hit him.

He gasped for air as his weakened stomach turned with sickness. Something was rising, working its way up his body. Yuta quickly slapped his hand over his lips as he hurled. Instead of bile, cherry blossom petals rained out of his mouth and into his palm.

He chuckled under his breath. Was it sad that he found beauty in his suffering?

Yuta thought himself to be crazy as he quickly shoved away the pain to begin sketching the petals in his hand.

For You in Full Bloom— what a nice name, you thought to yourself as you entered the shop with your friend Sicheng right behind you. The light ringing of the bell attached to the front entrance alerted the people at the counter of your presence. You picked up on harsh whispers before the tall male worker rushed to the back, forcing the young girl to assist you.

“Hi, welcome in!” the girl smiled brightly at you. “How can I help you today?”

Before you could reply, Sicheng stepped forward to answer, “Kira, we’re looking for Yuta— is he here?”

“Oh, Sicheng, hey! I didn’t even see you,” Kira exclaimed. “He’s, uh, not here right now.” Kira shot Sicheng a frustrated look, eyes darting to the back. Your companion sighed, done with his friend’s stupidity. You missed the quiet interaction, being too preoccupied with your surroundings.

“We’ll catch him another time then,” you answered her.

The small and quaint store was filled to the brim with flowers and your hands ghosted against the magnificent displays in the front window. The petals felt soft and the pleasing smells overwhelmed your senses in a good way. There was beauty all around you— there was no wonder why people loved visiting flower shops.

Various watercolor pieces were framed on the wall and you examined every artwork displayed. They were simple paintings of the plants that found a temporary home in the store. Some pieces were the flowers by themselves and others were of the many arrangements offered. They were vibrant, bright, and so incredibly detailed.

“I’ll tell him you stopped by,” she paused to ask for your name. You replied with a smile before turning back to take in the art.

“The paintings are a nice touch,” you commented, finally turning to look at her.

“Oh those? Yuta painted them,” Kira grinned, her body straightening up with pride. “He paints a lot when the shop is slow and my mom, the owner, loves to hang them up.”

“I should’ve known.” You took a closer look and spotted Yuta’s signature at the bottom of every picture.

“He’s very talented, isn’t he?” Kira hummed. Sicheng snorted for some unknown reason and you slapped his shoulder in response. There was nothing funny about Yuta’s skills and he knew that.

“Yeah, his skill is unmatched. I admire him for that.”

“Have you ever told him that?”

“God, no!”

“Why not?” Kira pressed. Sicheng joined in on the pressing and you moaned, an embarrassing heat creeping up your face,

“I don’t know. We talk but I find him to be a little intimidating,” you leaned against Sicheng’s shoulder and looped your arm through his. “I can’t just go up to him and fangirl over his work, can I?”

“But you want to,” he groaned. “And I’m tired of hearing you go on about it. Just tell him.”

A whine left your lips and you pinched your friend’s arm at the comment. He yelped and Kira just watched as the bickering continued.

“Yuta looks intimidating, yeah, but it’s just his resting bitch face, I promise. He’s just a softie,” Kira laughed and Sicheng agreed. “You should definitely tell him. He would love hearing it, especially from you.”

There was this knowing smile on both of their lips and it just seemed like they knew something you didn’t. You tugged on Sicheng’s arm as an attempt to ask him the florist meant by the last bit of her sentence and he tried to shrug you away. You just clung on tighter to your friend with a playful smile with Kira keeping a close eye on you.

You heard a cough come from the back of the store, causing both Sicheng and Kira to look up with concern. The coughing fit grew louder and louder, leaving Kira to excuse herself for a bit.

“If the other florist is sick, they should be at home resting,” you tutted with a frown.

“Some people are stubborn,” Sicheng threw back with a bit of distaste. Picking up on your friend’s bitterness, you wondered why he felt so strongly about it. You waved it off when a small display of sunflowers and red roses together captured your attention. Holding it in your hands, you admired how the two vibrant colors compliment each other.

Kira swung her way around the counter, “You like that bouquet?”

“It would be really pretty to paint,” you say, still spinning it around in awe.

“Yuta put it together himself yesterday, he’s pretty good at arrangements,” the florist beamed.

“What can’t he do?” you scoffed.

“Apparently, open his mouth and say what he needs to say,” Sicheng muttered beside you. Kira elbowed his stomach and he lurched over in pain.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” Kira laughed nervously. She worked her way to you and gestured towards the flowers, “It’s yours, on the house.”

You rejected the offer right away. “Oh no, I couldn’t,” is what you reply, attempting to shove the arrangement into her hands. With a kind grin, she persisted for you to take it and just asked you to buy from them the next time you visited. “I’m sure Yuta would love it if you took this one off our hands.”

With a promise, you hesitantly accepted the bouquet. Sicheng was snickering in the background and you had to hold yourself back from whacking him with the flowers. Thinking you’d taken too much of the florist’s time, you quickly said your thanks and headed out the door with a coy Sicheng trailing behind you.

—🌸—

“They’re gone,” Kira yelled towards the back of the shop. Yuta made his way back to his spot at the cash register while wiping at his mouth with his uniform sleeve. He quickly pulled out his art supplies from underneath the counter, setting everything up to resume his painting. Taking a seat on the stool, his body was slumped over his makeshift desk as he messed with his pencils.

His coworker rolled her eyes at him as she began to work on a bouquet of blue cornflowers and daisies— good fortune and new beginnings. Her nimble hands hastily worked their magic with ease as if she’s done it a million times before. Yuta observed her, quickly sketching her hands at work.

“You’re ridiculous, I don’t get why you had to hide.”

“I didn’t want her to see me like this,” Yuta said, his pained eyes covered by the long bangs that drooped down over his sketchbook.

“Like what?” Her hands went to her hips. “Sick and hopelessly in love?”

“Yeah, let’s put it that way.”

“There’s a solution to this, you know,” Kira pressed with furrowed brows. “You don’t have to keep suffering.”

This. Hanahaki is what she meant— the disease of unrequited love.

“I’m fine, Kira,” Yuta hissed with a bit more annoyance than he intended to. She flinched at the tone but still pushed on when he coughed again. He felt the discomfort of something being lodged in his throat and his body had the urge to hack it out. Suddenly, he was leaning over the counter with cherry blossom petals littering the cash register.

Yuta practically hacked up a storm, body curling in pain. One hand was clutching his stomach while the other had a death grip on the edge of the counter. The dizziness returned and he felt lightheaded as the retching subsided. A weakness took over his athletic body and Kira rushed to assist him back onto the stool. There was a bottle of soothing eucalyptus oil sitting right on the counter and she scrambled to open it before shoving it under his nose.

“You’re obviously not fine. You need to go to the hospital to get checked,” she said as Yuta took the small bottle from her grip. He dabbed a couple of drops onto his hands and rubbed it on his nose and throat. “Why won’t you accept any help that’s offered to you at the hospital?”

“I’ve gone through this before, Kira. Don’t worry about me.”

“Sometimes you forget I’ve gone through this, too!” she yelled. “I don’t want you to end up on your deathbed like I was at one point.”

Yuta couldn’t argue with that. He was hired back when she was in the hospital recovering from the final stage of the dreaded disease.

“We’re all worried about you here. Mom, Jongin, Mark? And your friends— Sicheng, Ten, and Taeyong? We all hate seeing you like this!” her voice grew louder and louder with each word, causing him to flinch at the shrill tone. Deafening noises plus nausea and headaches never meshed well with him.

“You don’t see how much it hurts seeing someone you care about suffer like this, Yuta. It hurts even more when we can’t do anything to help you go through this.”

Silence filled the room.

“Have you seen Dr. Kim lately?” Dr. Junmyeon Kim was the Hanahaki specialist that Kira recommended. He eased her back into normalcy after her scare.

“I will soon, I promise,” he said through haggard breaths. She guided him through a couple of breathing exercises and it calmed his racing heart down.

Kira sighed. With a quieter tone, she said, “It’s a shame the world made us experience heartbreak this way, isn’t it?”

Yuta smiled sadly at her— it was a shame.

The front door of the shop opened and the bell rang. They both turned to see Kira’s boyfriend Mark walk in with a cute grin. He clumsily hopped over the counter to plant a sweet kiss on her cheek. “Well, at least you got your happy ending,” he muttered too low for his coworker to hear.

Yuta knew there was a chance of having it too, he was just too afraid to speak.

If one were to look at him at that moment, his features hid nothing. Nakamoto Yuta was slowly ripping at the seams with the sakura branches poking their way out of his built figure and although multiple options were given to him, he still felt so unbelievably helpless.

It was the middle of the semester when you caught Yuta wandering the halls of the main art building. A grin found its way to your lips as you saw him with his messenger bag and a tubed container slung over his shoulder. Running to catch up with him, you slipped your arm into his free one. Your classmate yelped at the sudden contact and you let out a loud giggled that echoed in the empty hallway.

You finally felt close enough to initiate contact after sharing supplies with him during one studio session. That being said, it didn’t mean you were comfortable with revealing the feelings you harbored towards him— you wanted to keep that a secret for a little bit longer.

“What are you doing here? I thought you didn’t have classes in here today,” you asked.

“Oh, it’s just you,” Yuta sighed. You felt your heart drop at his words but you played it off with a scrunch of the nose and a teasing tone.

“Were you expecting someone else, Nakamoto?” you nudged his stomach and he avoided it, already predicting your actions. Yuta held back another series of coughs, quick turning away from you to cough into the handkerchief always kept on hand. He looked in pain as he continued to hack into the small piece of cloth and you brought a comforting hand to rub at his back.

“Every time I see you, you’re coughing,” you frowned. “You really need to get yourself checked, it’s been months.”

“No, no, I promise you I’m fine,” he replied with the shake of the head, his dark hair moving along with him. Even when ruffled and out of sorts, he looked good. He attempted to clear his throat by downing some water.

Your lips pursed at his words, not satisfied with his dismissive answer. “If you say so. Promise me you’ll see someone if it gets worse though.”

He agreed but you suspected it was to stop you from nagging. “To answer your question before you went all mom on me, I was here to talk to the department about my senior project.”

“Have you decided on your theme for your exhibit yet?”

Yuta smiled wistfully, “Flowers.”

“Should’ve known— it’s always flowers with you. It’s like you’re in love with them or something.”

He let out a scoff at your words. When you shot him a questioning look, he dismissed the act completely.

Time spent with Yuta always passed so quickly; one moment you were on the top floor of the building and the next, you were already at the bottom of the staircase. Ever the gentleman, he held the front door open for you and you thanked him with a smile. His brown eyes shrunk into little slits and whiskers appeared at the corners as he grinned back with a little chuckle.

How you longed to sketch that image.

A strong breeze blew through, causing a couple of leaves and fallen petals to fly around your figures. You crossed your arms around your front to keep the cold from seeping in and shut your eyes to keep debris out. Peeking at Yuta, you saw him cover his eyes with a calloused hand and he gently pushed you behind him to use his body as a makeshift shield. As soon as the breeze stopped, his grip on your arm loosened but the grip he had on your heart was still as strong as ever.

He whirled around to make sure you were alright and next thing you knew, his hand was lingering above your head. “You have something in your hair, do you want me to take it out?”

Yuta looked down at you with cautious eyes and you just noticed how close you were. Heat radiated off his body and your cheeks as you nod in approval. One dry hand moved to delicately clutch the side of your head as the other plucked a leaf out of your hair.

Your breath hitched as his fingers ran against your skin and tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. There was a sudden pounding in your ears that matched the drumming rhythm of your heart.

“There,” he whispered as he let you go. With a smile, Yuta added, “good as new and pretty as a picture.”

“Pretty enough to paint?” you fired back with sarcasm.

“Definitely worthy of being displayed for the world to see,” he winked.

Was he flirting? It seemed like he was.

Maybe, Sicheng was right— Yuta could have feelings for you. But it could also just be wishful thinking.

Were you flirting? Is this how flirting works?

“Speaking of displays,” Yuta started nervously as he walked you to your car. He slowed down his walking pace and you easily matched it, your steps moving in time with his. The main walkway on campus was devoid of people, seeing how it was later in the school day. The path from the art building to the lot you parked in was short and you wished there was some way to extend it so you could spend more time with him.

“Will you, uh, come to my show?” he asked, his hand scratching the back of his head. His hair flopped with the wind and his unsure grin made him look so incredibly endearing. “I know it’s still too early to give you a set date but I’d love to see you there.”

“What? Of course I’ll come!” you said, stopping to slap his arm.

He winced at the contact. “Ow?”

“I would’ve gone even if you didn’t ask me,” you proceeded on the path with a smile. “I have to go and support my friends.”

There was a coughing fit coming from behind you and you whirled around to see Yuta hacking into his handkerchief again. It looked more painful than the last attack he had a few minutes ago. His breathing was shallow and he clutched his chest as the coughs continued.

“Oh my god, Yuta!” You were pretty sure you heard him gag as you rubbed his back. “Okay, I’m taking you to the hospital. You’re clearly not alright.”

He lifted a hand to tell you to stop. “No, no. I’m fine. I just—I gotta go,” was all he said with his hoarse voice before jolting away.

Staring at his strong back as grew smaller and smaller, you almost missed the fallen piece of cloth on the ground. Keyword: almost.

“Wait, Yuta!” you shouted, bending down to pick it up. “You dropped your hanke—” As soon as you lifted the handkerchief, perfectly preserved cherry blossom petals fell out of its hold. They rained towards the ground, decorating the sidewalk with the prettiest shade of pink.

Yuta was long forgotten. You were too lost in your confusion of the flowers.

“Cherry blossoms?” you asked yourself. “They’re not in season yet.”

—🌸—

Yuta heard you calling for him but he refused to turn around. He pushed himself to keep running despite the tight pain in his chest. Pulling out his phone, he sent quick text messages to Sicheng and Kira with his location, asking them to stop by and help him. The disorientation hit faster this time, causing him to tumble into a bench. He gripped the iron lining as he hurled and for the first time, it was so painful that it brought tears to his eyes. His mouth trembled as he let out a cry.

Yuta tasted the bit of blood that poured out of his lips.

Wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket, Yuta ignored how the crimson stained the fabric. A butter chuckle escaped him.

“Pink goes good with red,” he whispered to himself as another stinging pain made its way up his body.

He felt the branches slowly poking his lungs, climbing a path up his chest. It was just as Kira described— it was piercing like a sharp arrow to the heart. The arrow pressed and pressed and pressed until he was exploding with petals, blood, sweat, and tears. It was aimed to kill. He thought arrows to the heart were supposed to fill him with love, not a heart-wrenching pain that tempted him to rip the beating organ out of his chest.

This was all too much to bear.

The full flowers and the scratching of wood tickling his throat.

The lack of oxygen and struggle for air.

He felt it all. He wished he didn’t.

Yuta wished he was one of the people that found their soulmate with that ridiculous red string of fate tied to the end of his pinky. They were blessed with a lifetime of happiness while he was cursed with what felt like an eternity of agony that his weakening body could no longer withstand.

Yuta knew you didn’t love him but he adored you anyway.

This wasn’t a shoujo manga, Yuta knew that. This was real life. No one was going to kiss, kiss, fall in love with the blink of an eye.

Picking petals off of flowers wouldn’t solve his problem. He wished it did, though.

If only it was that easy.

The rest of the semester flew by quickly with midterms and mid-semester projects keeping you at bay. You barely saw Yuta, yet alone the rest of your friends, if not for your classes. All of you shared the same appearance: dark circles, eye bags, sunken cheeks, hunched backs, and glazed over eyes. Your group survived the weeks with a crazy amount of caffeine and not enough food.

With the school year finally over and graduation season starting, that meant one thing for the college of fine arts at your university— exhibitions. The music and dance departments already had their concerts and showcases. Final showings of the theatre department’s newest production just wrapped up yesterday; the only thing left were the senior art exhibits.

Dressed to the nines and not at all like a struggling artist, you paced back and forth at the entrance of the student art gallery with a bouquet of irises in your hand. Sicheng, your emotional support for the day, stood as you walked the same path with annoyance. You couldn’t exactly pinpoint why you felt nervous— it wasn’t even your exhibit, it was Yuta’s.

Ten and Taeyong wrapped up their exhibits the week prior; Yuta’s was the last one.

“Are you done freaking out? Can we go in now?” Sicheng cocked a brow at you with his phone in hand. “The others are already inside.”

Wringing your hands together, you took in a deep breath. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Sicheng rolled his eyes before opening the doors to the gallery. Stepping inside, you were immediately welcomed by paper flowers of all sorts hanging from the ceiling and the quiet chatter of the gallery’s visitors. To the right, you saw a sign displaying the exhibit’s name: Efflorescence. A brief description of the exhibit was placed below it and you took the time to read it before stepping further in.

Snapshots of his life told through the appearance and language of flowers.

Ten and Taeyong, your seniors and close friends, were waiting for you off to the side.

“Sorry for the wait, you guys.”

Sicheng grumbled, “Took her long enough to calm down.”

Ten laughed, “Were you nervous for him? You weren’t like this for our final exhibits.”

“Oh, leave her alone,” Taeyong hushed the other two. Wrapping an arm around you, he pulled you close, “She’s nervous because this is her crush we’re talking about.”

“For heaven’s sake, say that any louder and he’ll hear you!” you screeched. The boys chuckled at your embarrassed state as you went ahead of them, ready to walk your way through the large room. From the corner of your eye, you saw Yuta smiling by the exit, surrounded by people singing praises about his work.

You weren’t in a rush— you wanted to take the time to appreciate every piece before talking to him about why he chose to display each work. Talking to the object of your affection could wait.

The first few paintings were of his childhood and the flowers that accompanied each scene all had similar meanings— innocence, purity, etc. You noticed that most of his paintings were done with watercolor, which made complete sense.

It seemed like he was always prepared to paint something, brush and paint always at the ready. The genius basically carried his foldable watercolor palette and pad everywhere he went, not wanting to miss an opportunity to paint a beautiful picture if he were to pass by one. That was another thing you admire about him— Nakamoto Yuta saw beauty in everything.

Deeper into the gallery, you found more familiar scenes and faces. There was a landscape of the fine arts department, with daffodil petals scattered across the canvas and it was titled New Beginnings. You passed various portraits of your friends, their beauty rivaling that of their birth flowers that shared the same space. Marveling at how realistic his paintings looked, you made a note in your brain to relay that thought to the artist later. He captured the essence of each person perfectly in a painting, breathing life into it, and you honestly couldn’t understand how one could do that.

Spotting Kira’s familiar face admiring a painting up ahead, you quickened your pace to catch up to her. Feeling the light tap you placed on her shoulder, she turned around with a surprised look that turned into a genuine smile upon seeing your face. She released her hold on her companion, a cute boy with doe eyes and bright smile, before giving you a hug.

“You’re here!” she squealed. Taking notice of the flowers in your hand, she winked, “Irises, huh? Nice touch.”

“I stopped by your shop beforehand looking for you and an older guy wrapped them up for me,” you smiled sheepishly. “Should’ve known you would be here and not working.”

“My brother, Jongin,” Kira said. “And of course, I wouldn't miss Yuta’s exhibit for the world. He’s done a lot for me and my family.” She shared a fond look with the boy next to her and he squeezed her hand in return.

“This is my boyfriend, Mark, by the way,” Kira gestured to the boy next to her.

“Yo, nice to meet you, dude,” Mark extended his arm out towards you and you gladly took in your hands to give it a shake. You laughed at his casual greeting; it was charming.

“Back at you, dude,” you giggled back.

Turning to take a peek at the picture they were admiring, you couldn’t help but break out into a wide grin. It was the two of them with the flower shop as their background. Yuta had painted Kira seated on top on the counter, eyes closed with glee and hands clutching a small bouquet of blue flowers. Mark, on the other hand, leaned towards her with fingers gripping the table top and looking at her with a loving smile.

You could feel the love pouring out of it and it warmed your lonely heart. “Wow,” you whispered.

Kira leaned her head on Mark’s shoulder and he placed a tiny kiss to her temple. “I’m buying it from him once this is all over,” she said.

Knowing each flower played a part in Yuta’s paintings, you tried to distinguish what flowers she clutched in her hand. “They’re cornflowers,” Mark answered the question that lingered in your head.

“Why cornflowers?”

“Oh those things put us through a lot— a little pain sprinkled in with their beauty,” Kira smiled, leaving Mark to chuckle lovingly at her comment. It felt like a secret between the two of them and you were invading in their space. “They were what got us together in the first place.”

Her sentence made you cock a brow. How could flowers be painful? That was awfully cryptic, even a little unsettling but it sounded a little familiar to you; it was on the tip of your tongue.

“Yeah, they’re pretty special,” the boy grinned, gaze still glued to the person wrapped under his arm. “Cornflowers are my favorite.”

“They’re starting to become one of mine, too,” she returned the look.

Mark’s bright brown eyes were shining with the love you wish someone had for you. It was a sweet sight, to see such a young couple in love. A part of you was jealous that they found a love like that so early in their lives while you pined after an artist that was so infatuated with flowers and their meanings.

Wanting to leave them in their moment, you excused yourself with a smile. There were only four paintings left to see.

The first was a design you recognized. It was a more detailed painting of the sketch you had seen Yuta draw on the first day of the semester. A girl was seated on the grass, leaning her back on a trunk of a cherry blossom tree. Her hands were outstretched to the sky, trying to catch the falling petals in her hand. Stealing a glance at the title, Yuta titled the piece, Wishful Thinking.

Moving to the next piece, it was a close up of Yuta’s hands. His palms were pressed together, cupping cherry blossoms in his hand. Petals and full flowers were scattered around the canvas, filling out all the empty spaces. The bright pink stood out against the color of his skin. You admired the amount of detail this piece had— the wrinkles on his skin, the gradient found on the petals. It held your interest, leaving you to wonder what this piece titled Inside meant to him.

Yuta’s self-portrait was showstopping. He borrowed the flower shop’s name, calling this piece For You in Full Bloom. The painting brilliantly depicted him in all white, his eyes closed with pain and hands clutching at his throat. The blossoms were spilling out of his mouth, the petals tainted with a blood red. You could feel the sadness and the suffering emitting from the picture and it pained you to see such a vulnerable depiction of him.

Putting two and two together, you figured it out.

Hanahaki. You had read about the disease before, one of the artists you admired had it. They created art as a way to tell their story. It was their escape from the suffering, a way to ease their pain, and the one course of action they took to be remembered after their death.

The only piece of information you lacked was who made him tolerate such pain.

Skipping the last painting of the exhibit, you made your way through the crowd to find Yuta. He stood at the end with a polite smile, thanking everyone who attended his exhibit. Onlookers were showering him with compliments, leaving you to wait until the small crowd cleared out.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” you breathed out with a concerned look. You couldn’t even spit out the name of the disease.

His smile widened into a genuine one, eyes gone soft at the sight of you. “You made it.”

Spotting the irises in your hand, he gestured towards the bouquet. “Are those for me?”

Still in shock that the person you were in love with was suffering all this time, you handed them to him without a word.

“Irises mean ‘congratulations,’ nice choice,” he laughed, trying to steer the topic away from his illness.

“Who?” you asked. “Who is it?”

Cocking his head, he answered you with another question. “You didn’t see the last one, did you?”

Shaking your head negatively, Yuta took you by the hand and the feeling made fireworks explode in your chest. Your heart was beating rapidly as he led you a few steps away. Nodding his head towards the last frame, he whispered, “Take a look.”

You felt his hand break out into a sweat and you wondered why this last one made him so nervous. Glancing at the title, you read the words Love Me Now.

Taking a deep breath, you mentally prepared yourself to see the person who had a hold on Yuta’s heart. Unlike him, you thought yourself strong enough to take the heartbreak— after all, you weren’t the one with flowers blooming inside you. Shifting your eyes over, you gasped as soon as you spotted whose face was framed on the wall.

Staring back at you was the most beautiful painting of yourself. It was a you that you had never seen before. He painted you in flourishing pastels to match the happy look on your face. He captured your smile lines, the curve of your eyes, and the scrunch of your nose in such detail; it amazed you beyond belief.

There was movement in your hair, the strands swaying in the wind along with the petals behind you. Your hands held a branch of your favorite flowers, half of them covering part of your face.

Captivated by seeing yourself through someone else’s eyes, you couldn’t tear your gaze away.

“Your smile makes flowers grow in my chest,” Yuta’s voice came from your side. You turned to see him wear a strained smile. Yuta’s huge eyes that were usually filled with kindness were taken over by something else— pain.

There was pain in his words and you hear the ache in his voice. His tone is hoarse, like his throat is unbelievably dry or irritated.

“I— I don’t know what to say.”

Everything was extremely overwhelming.

He shook his head to tell you that it was okay; he just needed to get the words off his chest. “It’s so beautiful and enchanting and it makes my heart clench and flowers take over my lungs.”

“Cherry blossoms,” you found yourself saying. You couldn’t believe this was happening. There were words you wanted to say but you were struggling to find them.

“Sakura,” he repeated in his native language.

“My favorite flowers.”

“Your favorite flowers.”

“You were never in love with flowers,” you stated, still in a state of shock.

Yuta released this low, almost bitter sounding chuckle that comes from deep within his chest. “Never.”

“Then, you’re in love with—”

“You.”

“—me.”

Just like the artist you admired, Yuta painted his way through his pain of loving you.

Nakamoto Yuta felt like he had been in love with you for the longest time. He had loved you before he could even muster the guts to let you know it, to invite you to this exhibit that displayed art dedicated to you.

He really hoped that you would show so he could take the chance to confess. Sure, you had promised but sometimes, people never intended to keep them. If he didn’t get it off his chest, he would never be able to breathe and Yuta desperately wanted to.

Yuta wanted to fill his lungs with breaths of fresh air and just breathe you in. That was all he longed for.

“Oh,” was all you could breathe out.

“It’s okay that you don’t feel the same,” Yuta tried to comfort you, getting the wrong idea from your lack of words. “I just needed to let you know.”

The sharpening ache that became so familiar to him was building up in his chest again, preparing him for the worst. Yuta swallowed thickly, already feeling the petals working their way to his mouth. His airways began restricting, his breaths growing more haggard by the second. He had so many things to say and he was determined to let it out before the petals escaped. The words spilled out his mouth, his lips running like a motor, “I used to be afraid of being in love and being happy with a person that I loved because it hurts.”

“Yuta—”

He stopped you with a lifted palm.

“Happiness never lasted with me, the flowers always ripped it away,” he explained, his trembling eyes focusing on your portrait and not the real person beside him.

“But then I met you and felt things I have never experienced before. So, I pushed my way through the pain just to be with you because I felt like I reached for the stars and touched the sky when we were together.”

His words brought tears to your eyes. You couldn’t believe someone would sit through the pain just to spend time with you nor thought you were worth it but here Yuta was, proving you wrong.

“There were times I wanted to beg you to love me, just so the hurting and the bleeding—just everything— could stop but I was too much of a coward and it led me to this.”

Here he was, pouring his heart out to you with his images and words, and you couldn’t let out a single noise. You forced yourself to move forward, to slip your hand into his. The sensation of your fingers intertwining with his brought Yuta out of his daze to look at you.

“Yuta,” you said with trembling lips. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”

“It’s not your fault,” he replied with a sullen tone. You squeezed his palm and he gave you a light one in return. “If I don’t get this off my chest now, I’ll never be able to breathe and I really want to.”

“There’s no reason for you to lose your breath over me.” A sniffle escaped you and Yuta turned to see you crying. He bent down to wipe your tears away, his finger swiping against your skin ever so gently.

“Why are you crying?”

“Because you suffered because of me and you didn’t have to,” you shot back with a whimper.

“You couldn’t have known, it’s okay,” he tried to reassure you.

“No, no,” you interrupted him to his confusion. “It’s not that.”

Your voice was so soft under your quivers, he could barely hear you over the loud chattering of the other guests in the room. Yuta guided you just outside his exhibit to a bench and dried your eyes with the sleeve of his sweater.

“What’s wrong?”

Yuta’s question made you laugh through your tears and at all the time wasted. He had been in pain for so long because he was yearning for you just as you were for him. The mutual yet silent pining took you down this route and it could have been avoided if you had just stopped being a coward and spoken up like Sicheng pushed you to.

“There’s nothing wrong,” you said with the dismissing wave. You willed yourself to look him in the eyes and bring a hand to his cheek. “It’s just that I think I’ve been in love with you as long as you have been in love with me.”

Your confession caused him to freeze in his seat. His brown eyes were blown out wide and mouth dropping in shock. Giggling as more tears fell, you quickly slide the hand cupping his cheek down to his jaw to shut his mouth closed. Running a thumb against his lips, you felt his pulse quickening at your touch.

“You’re in love with me?” he asked, voice as gentle as the breeze. There was uncertainty and disbelief behind it. Yuta wanted to hear you say it again.

—🌸—

“I’ve been in love with you for a while now.” Your earnest words were music to his ears.

He felt this comforting rush take over this body and it sent tingles down his spine, traveling all the way to the tips of his fingers and toes. Your confession worked like magic, spelling him with this high that made him soar to the skies.

Yuta thought you were a witch, entrancing him with a love charm so strong that it brought instant relief to his pain. His heart was trying to fight its way out of his chest and the ache of his airways dulled. The muscle was pounding so loudly against his ribcage, he could hear it in his ears, and he swore you could hear it too.

His lips upturned into the biggest grin, he felt like his cheeks were about to burst.

Was this how a requited love felt? If it was, he never wanted to go without it again.

Yuta rushed to pull you in his arms and sighed when you nuzzled your head into his neck. He shivered when he felt them whisper the three words he longed to hear into his skin. His body shook with laughter as he placed a lingering kiss at the crown of your head, reveling at the feeling of you encased in his hold.

You tried to fight your way out of his grip but he only tightened his arms, not wanting to let you go. The action left you giggling into his neck, causing him to squirm until his hold loosened. Your hands trailed their way from his waist up to cup his face and suddenly, his eyes were locked onto yours. Just as you were getting lost in the deep sea of brown, his gaze flickered to your lips before looking back at you. His lips quirked up as you did the same.

He felt your breath hitch as he leaned in to slot his lips against yours and the overwhelming rush returned. It seemed like his heart was racing against time, beating erratically as you kissed him so tenderly. Your lips were so soft and they tasted like the vanilla flavoring of your color, leaving him to chase after you every time you pulled away for a breath.

Yuta fought the strain in his airways as he pursued your lips again and again, loving the way you felt and tasted. He picked up the smell of your cherry blossom shampoo and laughed into the kiss. The feeling of having you was so addicting— your love was his drug and he was forever hooked on you. He would devote himself to nothing else but you.

The sensation of Yuta kissing you and smiling against your lips sent you into overdrive. There were butterflies in your stomach, fireworks going off in your head, tingles down your spine and you loved it all.

In the past, you only noticed Nakamoto Yuta’s undying love and admiration for flowers but this was the first time you finally noticed his love for you and it was nothing short of wonderful.

It was the start of something new.

🌸 author’s note— that’s it! it came out a bit more angst than i intended, definitely lacked the fluff i was expecting but i’m still satisfied with the ending uwu i loved writing my little markie and kira in the fic, i’ve missed them! but yes!! that’s the end of my little bday present to myself! i hope y’all loved it! please leave some feedback; i would love to hear what you thought of it!! i think i literally fell in love with yuta while writing this.

🌸 taglist— @danishmiilk @hyunjins--laugh @littleflowercrown13 @orange-nimon-cross @radiorenjun @ncteaxhoe @chancrispy

#cznnet #neowritingsnet #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct fanfic #nct angst #nct x reader #nakamoto yuta #yuta #yuta x reader #yuta scenarios #yuta imagines #yuta fanfic #yuta fluff #yuta angst

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five-wow · 4 years

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Hi, I'm a fellow writer in the fandom and I admire your work. I wanted to ask, as a popular writer, do you get fixated sometimes on the number of kudos/comments/hits etc that your new work gets, and does this impact your motivation/inspiration? I think comparison is the thief of joy, and I really want to get over this feeling when I post my own work, so was wondering if even popular and regular writers such as yourself feel like this to, and if , what's your secret? Thanks!

Hi! 1) You are so sweet, ahh, and 2) YES, I DO. Gosh, yes, I absolutely do get insecure about those kinds of things, and I think that anyone who says they don't ever feel that way is either lying (to themselves, possibly) or maybe just pure magic, like some cross between a writer and a unicorn.

I love ao3 and I love all of its metrics and I love numbers and statistics, but there’s definitely that shadow side where having all of that easily available makes it deceptively easy to compare your own work to other people’s. I do it all the time! It honestly makes it a little hard for me at times to read h50 fic and fully enjoy it, because I keep... looking at it and wondering how my own stacks up against it, unwillingly. That's not a relaxing experience, and sometimes not even a very fun one. (Another part of it is that I just write SO MUCH for h50 and there is SO MUCH I still want to write, and I don’t want to risk reading something that’s very close to an idea I had and then never being quite sure if what I write after that was influenced by the other person’s work or if it’s really still my idea, because I have this (pretty irrational) fear of accidentally stealing someone else’s work even though one of the really great things about fandom is that it’s a very collaborative process as a whole and being inspired by other people’s stuff is usually totally okay, buuuut that’s a different rambly story.)

And I definitely do also get... some cringey feelings, hardcore, around fics I posted that don't do very well numbers-wise. Sometimes it's expected - fic that doesn't follow traditional formats or doesn't feature Steve/Danny, for example, is always something where I KNOW it won't get as much attention because I know how fandom works and that lessens the sting because it doesn't HAVE to hold up to those other fics that perform way better, because I already know it's not really comparable. The truth is, of course, that most fic is not really comparable to other fic, but it’s easy to fall into that trap anyway. If I post something that seems like my average kind of work and it gets less kudos or comments than usual, I do start to doubt the fic and second-guess myself - is something about this weird? Is it too [insert quality x]? Is it bad? Did I unknowingly do something terrible and people are now avoiding me? The answer to all of those is probably no, and going through it a bunch of times has definitely helped, because what usually happens is that I end up somewhat avoiding the fic in question because it makes me a little ashamed and awkward to think about it (a relative failure! oh no! I'm human!) and then, eventually, I return and reread the fic. By that point I have enough distance from it in time that I can look at it a lot more objectively, and it's way easier to see what works and what does not than when I posted it and I had just read it a dozen times in twenty-four hours and the words were burned into my brain. And upon that reread, inevitably, I realize that, holy shit, it was NOT AS BAD as I had made it out to be in my mind! It’s actually kind of fun! Imagine the ego boost of realizing your most cringy recent work is actually pretty okay, haha, and it's silly, but it's a revelation every time. The quality of a fic is not dictated by how many people read it or comment on it or like it, and intellectually I absolutely know that, but it’s hard to remember when it’s about yourself and you’re still in that emotionally vulnerable place of having just shared your work with the world and it feels like the world is not as into it as you thought (or hoped) it’d be. It’s honestly very, very reassuring to have those experiences to fall back on, but sadly the only way I know to get there is to just tough it out and feel super awkward for a while.

When I’m writing, on the other hand, I usually don’t really think about what other people might think of it. I have the advantage that (pretty much) all of my work consists of fairly short stand alone stories, which means I don’t have to struggle with keeping my motivation up for a second chapter of something but I get to start fresh every time, and that’s nice, because I can just lose myself in the joy of throwing words around and making characters do things that make me giggle. That’s not to say I never think of the outside world while writing - I realized, pretty recently, that I occasionally end up constructing paragraphs or pieces of dialogue a certain way mostly so it will make for a good excerpt to put in the eventual fic description, which might give me a sense of accomplishment because it’s nice when things work out and look good, but in all fairness it’s probably far more motivated by attempts to package the finished work attractively so other people will want to click on it than by anything else. I don’t know if that’s a bad thing. I don’t think so - I don’t feel like it lessens my work and it doesn’t interrupt my enjoyment of it in the moment, which are the key elements for me - but other people might disagree.

But the heart of thing is, just, there are SO MANY factors that influence a fic’s numbers, and not all of them are visible (I’d argue most of them aren’t, in fact), and it always helps me to keep that in mind. It puts things in perspective somewhat and softens the harshness of a black and white kudo count judgment. Numbers can depend on when you post a fic (what day of the week, time of the year, time relative to big fandom moments, whether you’re in the middle of a global pandemic or not), how you pick your title, what you put in the description, how you use the tags, what genres or tropes are popular in your specific fandom, the genre of your fic in general (pwp as a rule tends to get lots of hits and few kudos or comments, for example, making it totally unfair to compare it to G-reated fluff fic with super different ratios), how much you’ve posted before (because if someone likes one of your works, they’re often likely to check if you have more in the same fandom), how many fics other people post around the same time (because yours might be gone from the first page of most recently updated works in a fandom or ship tag very quickly if others push it out), how big your fandom is(!!!) (over two thirds of my works on ao3 are for h50, but h50 only makes it into the top 10 of my most kudo’d works by the skin of its teeth) and definitely also what your fandom’s culture is like (compared to a lot of other fandoms, h50 fans are a-ma-zing when it comes to leaving comments, my gosh, and as a writer I adore all of you), how old your ao3 account is (the longer you’ve been around, the more likely a higher number of people is subscribed to you as an author or has read your previous work or has encountered your name, etc), how long your fic is (under a thousand words in my experience generally does less well than 1-5k, but longer fics might end up with lots of chapters which switches things up because people come back to it when there’s an update, and even if a long work is all in one chapter it will probably stand out for the wordcount and might attract attention that way, etc), whether or not your fic is part of a series (in my experience it will probably get more hits because it’s a chain of fics that leads you to the next one, but the kudos might not go up at the same rate because people might forget a kudo or reread previous works when a new one is added), whether you make a habit of commenting on other people’s fic (I’ve had comments saying MY comment on their work led them to my fic!), if you have social media like Tumblr or Twitter where you can promote your work (it’s advertising, basically), and any of a bunch of random little other factors. Sometimes, I see a sudden little cluster of kudos on an old fic in the daily ao3 kudos email, and I assume someone somewhere maybe recced that fic, but it usually remains a total mystery who or where or even if it happened at all and wasn’t just a weird coincidence to begin with. Sometimes the thing a fic’s popularity depends on is really just whether it clicks with people at that point in time, whatever that means, which is an even more impossible thing to grasp or predict than anything else.

Or you can look at things from a totally different angle and not try to make yourself care less about numbers, but just accept that you do because you’re human and we all crave validation, and instead try to roll with that. A brain hack: when I do start getting down about numbers, it also helps me to focus on one work and just... try to visualise what those kudo (or hit or bookmark or comment) counts mean, if you were to translate them to the real world. While it can be super helpful to remember that there’s a LOT going on that you can’t see and that’s virtually impossible to really explain, it’s also nice to somewhat do the opposite and try to make things as concrete as possible instead. I like measuring in school classes (~25-30 heads, I’d say) and “my fic only has fifty kudos but this other person’s has ten times as many” could easily make anyone sad and demotivated, but “my fic has fifty kudos and that’s TWO WHOLE CLASSROOMS packed full of people that all read my work and liked it so much they wanted to give me a little thumbs up for it” is actually pretty cool and encouraging, I think. Or you could measure in sports teams (I don’t know sports, but soccer has 11 players on the field per team, so as soon as your fic has 33 kudos that’s three teams which means you’ve got yourself a little beginning league! how exciting!) or in DnD campaigns (variable of course, but most of mine have had around four players plus a DM, so if you have twenty kudos? that’s FOUR WHOLE DnD campaigns that enjoyed reading your fic, and it’s fully up to you how many half-orcs that includes). You could apply this method using literally any other measurement that works for you, too. If you have a hard time painting a mental image of numbers, you could even open up a Paint doc or get a piece of paper and start counting out little dots or copy-pasted images of a person, or get a big bag of physically present M&Ms and count them out, or take a good look at your dog and then go around the neighborhood and collect forty-nine more dogs and pile them all into your home and be slightly frightened by the utter delighted fluffy chaos that ensues in your living room. That’s how many people liked your fic! That’s a heck of a lot of wagging tails! Who knew a kudo could bark this loudly!

Disclaimer: maybe keep the dog thing as your very last resort, because your neighbors might not be super into their pet getting dognapped for the purpose of visualizing fanfiction stats. The point is really just to remember that there’s an actual person behind every kudo you get, no matter what the cumulative number is, and even if you have seven or five or three kudos, that’s seven or five or three very real people that hit that button. That’s pretty damn awesome. Also keep in mind how you feel if you read a fic, and take some time to realize that every single person that left you a kudo went through that same process of spending time reading words (the words you wrote!) and experiencing that story and THAT’S why they left that kudo. It’s a real person’s real investment.

This ended up very long and rambly, so tl;dr: You are in no way alone in feeling that way, it's okay and normal and so very very human to feel like that, but you still shouldn't let it get you down, because numbers fake being meaningful very well but are deep down just little squiggles on your screen and they’re more scared of you than you are of them, while at the same time there are real individuals that enjoy your work even if you usually never see them. Your fic is worth posting. That’s the one factor in all of this that’s a constant, not a variable.

(And as a very important sidenote, just be kind to yourself, always. Does it truly stress you out? Are you feeling really bad about it today? Does it make your anxiety spike? Then give yourself room to take a little step back and allow yourself some time away from it. Go watch something you enjoy, or read something nice, or do something else that makes you feel good. Fic is something that should add to your life, not subtract from it. You don’t owe anyone anything, not even yourself in this context, and I used to push myself occasionally to get something finished TODAY, and eventually I started realizing, well, why? Why not instead of reading it over again just get some sleep or watch an episode of something I want to watch, especially if I literally just finished the fic and I feel a little unsure about it and it might actually be beneficial to me and my own feelings about it if I just give it a day or even a week and let it rest and then look at it again and THEN post it, if I want to, whether that’s with some changes beforehand or not? Who set me that deadline that’s apparently looming over me? I did, and it’s fake, and it’s there for absolutely no good reason. Breathe. Put yourself first. Be really really really selfish about your own fic writing experience, even, because it’s supposed to be something you enjoy (that’s what a hobby is!), and the rest is secondary.)

#anon #ask #writing #ao3 #it's very odd to get called a popular writer by the way oh my gosh #nice!!! so very nice!!! thank you!!! but also difficult to reconcile with my own internal image of myself #all the more evidence that brains lie to us all the time #*

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fallingin-like · 5 years

Text

november 24

heart on your sleeve, eyes on the streets (the heart-eyes remix) by @apprenticedmagician [requested by @soft-ravenclaw-apollo]

see which other fics i’m reviewing this month! / my review request post!

this is an adorable and hilarious jeanneil fic that includes soccer! this fic is lighthearted, but has enough much pining and a bit of angst to keep things interesting.

this was such a cute fic and really funny, i laughed so much reading this. i loved the mix of oblivious AND obvious pining, it was really sweet to be able to witness neil coming to terms with his feelings and being brave enough to act on them!

parts that i really enjoyed:

”andrew muffled out, piehole overstuffed with sugared cereal” i don’t know why, but i find this sentence soo funny

”nicky suggested, as full of bounce and caffeine as a jackhammering hamster” LOL this is all truth

NEIL DREW ON KEVIN’S FACE AND POURED NAIL POLISH IN HIS HAIR WHAT i can’t even imagine trying to get nail polish out of hair! at least kevin has dark hair

ohmygoodness they play soccer?? canon neil would vapourize on the spot if he learned that

”honestly, he had done his best to” ah yes, neil and his legendary repressing skills

”as though you can make a cult from inside a cult” i am telling you the truth when i say that i was drinking water when i read it and i just barely stopped myself from spitting it back out when i read this, it’s so funny

”the twins’ tempers were famously shorter than they were but he never worried about angering them - yes, they were quick runners and could pace themselves alongside him on their good days, but shortness was also a quality of their endurance” first of all, this is hilarious, but second, i love that neil seems to have spent so much time thinking about this. i’m sure that an instigator like him has everyone sized up to know what kind of trouble he’s about to get into haha

”neil yoinked his sorbet with a flourish” YOINKED IS MY NEW FAVOURITE WORD

”what for? beating the ravens is all the incentive i need” oh my goodness, jean knows the way straight into neil’s heart: soccer (lol i accidentally wrote exy before i remembered they don’t play it in this au)

ahh bless the twins for defending neil from nicky, it’s so sweet to see them in tune with his reactions and knowing when nicky is a Bit Too Much

”it couldn’t be a crush that was affecting neil. something a little more infectious. viral. some sort of bacteria that had his heart pounding before he had even begun to practice. some sort of wary survival behaviour making his eyes stray to jean at each quiet moment” LOL i love this!! neil is really cute and confused, but so endearing. i’m so glad that he was able to work through everything to realize that he likes jean! sexuality is confusing and he is still so young in this fic

oh, drunk neil is really cute

”rationalized sober-Neil’s brain cell” BRAIN CELL. SINGULAR. HE ONLY HAS ONE SOBER BRAIN CELL LOL

oh no oh no what happened, things were going well??

ahh seeing neil go through this heartbreak is making me go through heartbreak.

honestly, i’m amazed at neil’s restraint when jean got hit, although his best weapon always has been his smart mouth

!!! they’re holding hands!!!!!!

EXCUSE ME IS NEIL WEARING HIS JEAN SWEATER BECAUSE THAT’S ADORABLE

aldkfjlaskdjf oh my goodness YOU MADE JEAN THE GIFT AND HE’S WEARING A PRESENT SWEATER AND THEY’RE STANDING UNDER MISTLETOE

”and it felt like walking on hot coals” this is such a great way to end the fic!! you really tie everything together and it’s so wonderful

ahh this was so nice to read, just some boys working through their emotions. i think you did a great job having this as a companion piece, it compliments the original fic nicely, but also can be read as a standalone. thank you so much for writing this!!

#heart on your sleeve eyes on the streets (the heart-eyes remix)#aftg fic review #raelle writes

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mayquita · 5 years

Text

Call Me (24/?) - It’s a Matter of Love. Part 2

I wasn’t planning at all to post this chapter today, but this morning I finished this part and thought it was a good idea to create a complete chapter and leave the rest of what I had planned for the next one.

I’ve decided to focus almost exclusively on Call Me and continue writing as I believe that this story deserves an end. We’re approaching the end of the second part of the fic... (although if I keep splitting chapters I don’t know when I will be able to finish)

Thanks as always to @saraswans and @onceuponaprincessworld, for helping me, trust me and support me and thank you, everyone, for continuing to believe in this story.

This chapter has a structure similar to the previous one, but in this case, it’s written from Emma's POV. I hope you like it. Also, since I hadn’t planned to post today, there will probably be a ton of mistakes, so apologize in advance. I'm still in search of a beta that helps me, especially with typos and grammar.

Summary: Emma loses her phone after a chase, but she finds a phone in a cafe just when she needs it most. Killian forgets his phone in a cafe when he is about to take a flight to Ireland. Killian makes a call to his own number hoping someone answers on the other end of the line. What will happen when Emma is the one answering the call?

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4Chapter 5Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8Chapter 9 Chapter 10Chapter 11 Chapter 12Chapter 13 Chapter14Chapter 15 Chapter 16Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23

FF.net Ao3

Chapter 24 - It’s a Matter of Love. Part 2

Friday, September 15, 2017

Emma Swan loved Killian Jones. It wasn't as if she had realized it suddenly. She had long since come to terms with her true feelings. The fact of being separated from him for several days —with a lot of time to think— had only intensified those feelings and her need to express them aloud despite her almost paralyzing fear.

Now, with only a few hours ahead before seeing Killian again, her heart threatened to come out of her rib cage and the butterflies in her stomach fluttered in anticipation. She had one last task to carry out for their reunion to happen though, capture the damned elusive perp.

A spiral of feelings swirled inside her as she waited tucked inside her car for her prey to appear. The adrenaline rushing through her veins in anticipation of the impending pursuit mingled with the impatience to conclude this case once and for all and with the nervousness of seeing Killian again.

She forced herself to focus her gaze on the building in front of her as she tried to distract herself with her favorite music playing on her phone. Without success, of course, since now Queen was irremediably connected to Killian. She only needed to listen to the first chords of I Was Born To Love You so her mind would play a trick on her by bringing to her memory all the times she had been about to say the three words out loud.

After letting out a noise half a sigh half a huff, she leaned her head against the back of her seat while keeping her eyes fixed on her target but let her mind wander freely to recreate all those precious moments in which her love towards Killian had been so powerful that she had been about to overcome her fear of expressing her feelings.

Four weeks ago

They were late. She had taken forever to finish making paperwork in her office but fortunately, now they could enjoy the weekend fully, at least on her part, since Killian still had some activities scheduled. Even so, she would accompany him in some of them, so the feeling of the free weekend still remained. And now it was time to hang out with their friends, like every Friday.

Everyone was already there when they arrived at the bar. David and Will were at the pool table, playing a game, while the girls were near the bar, waiting for their orders. Emma was thirsty, so she chose to approach the girls, pulling Killian's hand lightly as a signal for him to follow her.

"Hey guys, we were starting to think you wouldn't make it tonight." Mary Margaret said as a greeting. Although there was a hint of reproach in her tone and in the way she arched one of her eyebrows, her lips drew a soft smile.

Emma liked Mary Margaret. She might not feel as close to her as she felt to Ruby, Elsa or Belle, but Mary Margaret gave off a kind of maternal aura and she gave the warmest hugs, making her feel protected, something she had missed her whole life. She acted like this, in a protective way, with everyone, even though she was only a couple of years older. That attitude also had its cons, though, like just in that moment, when she felt as if she were under the scrutiny of her mother for being late.

"They may have been busy, Marg." Belle certainly did not help in the matter, implying with her comment and her not subtle mischievous expression what they might have been busy with. Emma felt her cheeks flush, but fortunately, she wasn't the only one, a soft blush appeared on Mary Margaret's cheeks as well, while her eyes grew slightly wide.

“Oh.”

Emma heard Killian at her side letting out a chuckle, as he put an arm around her shoulders. She not only had no intention of rectifying her friend but was tempted to get along with her. Just as she turned to cast a salacious glance at her boyfriend, a sound from the pool table caught their attention, causing them to turn their heads in that direction.

Her heart tightened in her chest and her entire body tensed at the image before them. A guy was grabbing Will's t-shirt with both hands while pushing him against the wall. Emma did not even have time to react or try to intervene in any way. Just as her gaze drifted towards Killian, he literally flew in the direction of their friends.

He was on them in an instant. Emma watched with utter fascination the intervention of her boyfriend, who not only freed Will but, emulating the guy, he grabbed him by his t-shirt, pinning him against the wall while raising a menacing finger.

Maybe she should be more worried, maybe she should try to comfort Belle, who was clearly shocked, if the way she clung to her forearm was an indication. But the reality was that she couldn't take her eyes off Killian and his display of testosterone, causing a wave of mixed feelings to wash over her.

His defiant attitude, his hardened features, the fierceness in his gaze caused a rush of heat to flood to her core. Her stomach tightened in knots at the reckless action. Another much warmer sensation spread to her heart as her mind accepted for the first time what she had only dared to feel with her heart.

She was hopelessly in love with that man. She had fallen in love with that sweet man, with that adorable but at the same time a bit tormented Irishman, who was able to flash her a smile with the ability to light up the whole room and the next moment he could go after those who would have dared to put a finger on any of his friends, consequences be damned.

His loyalty, his fierceness, his protective instinct towards his loved ones could be a bit overwhelming at times. On this occasion, though, his behavior was causing an almost irrepressible desire to express her feelings out loud, to let everyone know that this bold and maybe a little reckless man was hers and that she had no intention of letting him go any time soon — probably never.

Before the altercation escalated to something more dangerous David intervened showing his badge and exuding an aura of authority that managed to appease her enraged boyfriend and prevented the guy's friends from coming to his aid. Still, Killian seemed reluctant to let him go just yet, watching him, while Will and David made their way back to the ladies.

Only when Will was within reach, Belle loosened her hold, letting out a sigh of relief as she threw herself into her boyfriend's arms.

"Oh my god, Will, what happened?”

"That wanker... We had already warned them once that they were too close and we could accidentally hit them, but they ignored us." Will's lips twisted upward in a failed attempt at a smile. It was evident that he was trying to use a carefree tone with his girlfriend, but the paleness of his face indicated otherwise. That guy had really scared him.

"And you ended up hitting him." Mary Margaret continued for him.

"Rather he hit himself." David interceded to defend his friend. "They were just a bunch of drunks, but at least one of them took his own medicine." He pointed to Killian who had finally decided to leave the guy alone.

Killian's features softened instantly when his eyes met hers as he walked towards her. Her skin tingled with anticipation, but she held back, waiting patiently by the bar for him to come to her side. When he reached her, he gave her an apologetic look and scratched behind his ear as he began to speak. "Apologies for my poor manners, love..." Unable to resist anymore, she cut him off by pressing her lips against his and kissing him hard, trying to pour into that kiss the whole spiral of feelings dancing inside.

Despite his initial surprise, he promptly responded by kissing her back with enthusiasm as he wrapped her in his arms. Only the need for air made them separate a little.

"I didn't know you were so much into rough, love." He purred before nipping at her bottom lip.

An unexpected thought crossed her mind at that moment, as she made a mental note to add one more attribute to Killian's endless list of qualities. He knew when to use that intense look and that suggestive voice and how to use his talented mouth to make everything fade around them, it didn't matter that they were in a noisy bar surrounded by a crowd or that their friends were right there.

"Oh, come on, I'm the one who has been in danger and he is the one who gets all the attention." Will's whining voice broke the spell. Although Killian's body blocked her vision she did not need to see Will's face to know that he was accompanying his words with a sulky expression.

Killian winked at her before schooling his features into a scowl and turning in Will's direction. "Are you suggesting that you would have wanted a kiss from my girlfriend, mate?"

This time Emma did check to see that Will's cheeks had turned a furious red as he averted his gaze. Emma bit her lip to keep a laugh from escaping her mouth.

"Maybe he won all the attention because you've been the damsel in distress here while he's been the knight coming to your rescue." David added with an amused expression as he tapped his friend's shoulder.

"Ha ha, very funny." Will huffed, pursing his lips as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Everyone barked out to laugh at that moment, even Belle, though to her credit, she wrapped her arms around Will's waist and planted a kiss on his cheek, managing to soften his features.

Emma also took pity on him and decided to give him some attention, but before approaching him she needed to continue with her previous conversation with Killian. She stood on tiptoe while whispering in his ear. "About the reason for the earlier kiss, there are still some things about me that you don't know." She teased him, a grin spreading across her face.

"That sounds like a challenge, Swan"

"Perhaps... Maybe the kiss wasn't just for your roughness over there. I may find your reaction when it comes to defending a friend quite appealing." She suggested as she cocked her head slightly in Will's direction. It was no use denying the obvious, but she felt more comfortable for now using a suggestive tone instead of confessing that his protective attitude had only increased her feelings toward him.

"So are you implying that if Will gets into a compromising situation again and I'm going to his rescue, I'll get a kiss like that as a reward?" He tilted his head, his tongue darting out to wet his lips in a too distracting movement.

"Not just a kiss. Wait to see what awaits you at home, buddy." She planted a quick kiss on his lips and gave him a smirk before turning to their friends, who were looking at them with mixed expressions of amusement, embarrassment or annoyance —that was Will. She did not miss the growl coming from Killian before getting away from him. They had a promising night ahead, definitely.

Oh, how much she loved her life now.

Three weeks ago

Killian was undoubtedly a man of many qualities —she kept adding items to her particular list —but if there was something Emma admired, besides his big heart, it was his ability to interact with other people.

His charisma was evident, as well as the ease he had to adapt to the other person. Her heart melted every time Killian talked to his nephew or niece or took care of little Leo. Even she had begun to go as a viewer to the sailing classes for children that he taught every Saturday. He was an expert in the field, not only in knowledge and self-confidence but also in the way he treated children, showing endless patience and using simple explanations for the kids to understand him. She could spend hours watching them enraptured while the butterflies in her stomach fluttered furiously.

She also loved the way Killian treated his friends and family, with such devotion and loyalty. The union he felt towards his family was undeniable, but the family relationship wasn't the only one he kept in the distance. Robin, his great friend from Ireland, was also part of his weekly video calls. From their conversations, she could appreciate that there was a close relationship there, that both trusted and understood each other.

She could even see differences if she compared that relationship with the one he had with David or Will. David was more like a projection of his brother in Boston while he treated Will rather as if he were his little brother whom he had to constantly get out of trouble. With Robin, however, it was a more equal relationship, the image of true friendship. She hadn't obtained that appreciation only from her observation but Killian himself had confirmed it, bringing Robin into most of the conversations in which he shared his past with her.

She liked Robin not only because of his relationship with Killian but because of his behavior towards her. Robin was always kind to her and made an effort to make her feel included in their conversations causing her to want to meet all of them in person, not only the rest of the Jones family but Killian's childhood friend.

But if there was something Emma really admired, it was the way Killian had gotten involved with her friends as well. He had not only opened the doors for her to this new world of friendship, allowing her to be included in his circle of friends, but he had introduced himself into her own with such ease that it was as if he had known them for a long time.

Killian and Graham saw each other assiduously when Killian came to her office to eat lunch with her and they had already met a couple of times to watch some sporting event.

On the other hand, Ruby had adopted Killian as one of her best male friends almost from the moment he had come into her life. His interest in them was genuine, of that she was sure. It was not an act just to impress her, but because he really felt it. Even so, she could not be more grateful that her two little circles were not only able to coexist but sometimes blended.

What Emma had not anticipated was that Ruby, or rather her interactions with Killian, were one of the catalysts that almost made her pronounce the three famous words aloud.

Killian and Emma were at Granny's for lunch, sitting opposite each other in their usual booth when Ruby suddenly appeared.

"Oh, thank God you're here. I need to talk to you." Ruby's relief when she saw Killian was evident. Emma cocked her head as her eyebrows knit together in confusion, watching her friend curiously.

Ruby had the day off today, so it was strange to see her at Granny's and even stranger that she had directly addressed Killian sitting next to him after offering her an almost imperceptible gesture of acknowledgment.

"Of course, Lass, what can I do for you?"

Emma's curiosity increased when she detected that Ruby looked visibly agitated, not even a glimpse of her usual nerve. Before explaining herself, she shot Emma a sidelong glance and then turned to Killian again.

"Well, I was looking for the opinion of someone of the male gender..." Ruby paused for a moment while clearing her throat, as if she was deciding how to continue. "...I... I've started dating this guy, Whale..."

"Wait a minute, aren't you dating this girl, Mulan?" Emma couldn't help interrupting, surprised by the unexpected confession of her friend.

"That's over." Ruby snapped hardening her features. Emma's eyes widened, but her lips remained sealed. For some reason, Ruby had decided to trust Killian, so Emma had no choice but to keep silent and wait. Killian's gaze shifted subtly toward her for a split of a second, but then he turned his attention back to Ruby.

"So, about Whale ..." He encouraged her to continue, his lips drawing a reassuring smile.

"Yeah, that. About Whale, as I was saying, I've dated this guy a couple of times, but there's something that doesn't seem to work. Since you're a man and you obviously know your way around girls..." Ruby gestured towards her while her lips curled into a smirk."I thought you could give me some advice on how to approach him."

Emma had to bite her tongue to force herself not to intervene. Until a few seconds ago she didn't know about the existence of that Whale guy, but she had seen Ruby with Mulan and they seemed quite interested in each other. It was evident that Ruby was turning to Whale as a kind of defense mechanism or to avoid facing her feelings towards Mulan.

As if he sensed her thoughts, Killian glanced again at her furtively. She answered silently with an intense look. She only hoped that Killian managed to grasp the meaning.

Before answering, Killian scratched behind his ear and offered Ruby a tight smile. "Since you've asked me for advice, lass, here you have it. I think the thing between you and that guy Whale doesn't work because you still have feelings for another person." Ruby opened her mouth to reply, but Killian was faster. "So my advice is, forget this Whale who clearly is not giving you what you need and go find your girlfriend and try to fix things with her."

Gods! How had she been so lucky to find such a perceptive, caring man? Another random thought crossed her mind at that moment. A heart swollen with pride was just a metaphor, or was it possible that a heart actually swelled with such a feeling? Hers certainly threatened to get out of her rib cage while she made an effort to contain herself and not to throw herself on Killian and kiss him right there or not to expel the words that burned on the tip of her tongue.

Ruby did not seem so happy, though. Her gaze shifted alternately from Killian to Emma as her brow furrowed. "You two..." She gestured between them while her eyes narrowed, holding the scrutiny. "You were doing that thing, communicating mentally or something."

"I did not say a single word." Emma raised her hands, palms outward, as she tried to hold back the laughter bubbling in her throat.

"But you agree with him, don't you?"

"I do." She admitted tentatively.

"See? My point exactly." Ruby tapped the table with her hand and then raised an accusatory finger at both of them. "You two think so alike and don't even need to communicate with each other out loud. You're disgustingly adorable."

Emma felt her cheeks flush as she caught her lower lip between her teeth in an attempt to stop the incipient grin that threatened to appear. Killian, in turn, did not seem so affected, since he continued talking with Ruby.

"Think about it this way, lass. If we think alike, it's because we care about you at the same level, so yes, we both agree to want the best for you."

Her heart did that thing again, swelling like a balloon while she was unable to tear her gaze away from him.

"I hate you both." Ruby grumbled, her lips pursed in a small pout. Despite her tone of reproach, a faint pinky halo tinted her cheeks and a special spark appeared in her eyes, so Emma sensed that they were not very misguided in terms of Ruby's affections.

"No, you don't. Because we're good friends and we give you good advice that you're going to follow, aren't you?" Emma raised an eyebrow at her friend while Killian nudged her with his shoulder.

"Okay, okay." Ruby rolled her eyes as she raised her arms and then dropped them in defeat. "I'll talk to her, are you happy?"

"Very." She grinned at her while raising her hand for a high five with Killian, to which he was quick to respond. Their action caused the first genuine smile of the day to appear on Ruby's face as she shook her head.

Maybe she was not yet ready to express aloud how she felt, but that did not make the feeling any less intense, though not just towards Killian. She was also learning to enjoy true friendship and the wonderful feeling of giving and receiving, something so unknown to her until very recently. Her eyes drifted to Killian again, who was watching her with such intensity that it caused goosebumps on her skin. Maybe Ruby was right and they had reached a kind of mental communication because what Killian was showing with his eyes was love. Love towards her.

She was so damn lucky.

Two weeks ago

The need to express her feelings out loud had become a constant since she had admitted her love for Killian— at least to herself. That feeling sometimes appeared in the form of a gentle breeze, like a latent sensation that caused her skin to tingle every time Killian smiled at her or had a gesture of affection towards her — or towards the rest of their friends.

Other times, however, the feeling took hold of her like a whirlwind, while the blood ran hot in her veins and her heart raced, the words burning in her mouth eager to be revealed. This sensation used to appear in the most intense moments shared with Killian, but at other times the powerful need to express her feelings appeared suddenly in the most unexpected moments or for the most ordinary reasons, like a yellow pin.

That day Killian's office was quieter than usual. Belle was busy rearranging some schedules, her eyes focused on the computer while Emma waited on the couch for Will and Killian to arrive for their Thursday lunch. Everyone seemed pretty busy these days, even her. It was as if the incipient arrival of September had generated an unusual activity in both her work and Killian's. But at least they had managed to maintain their Thursday tradition. Or so she hoped. They were late.

Since Belle was still focused on her task and her phone barely had a battery, she had no choice but to look for entertainment elsewhere, so she let her gaze wander around the room, looking for something to distract herself with.

The search did not last long. Her heart skipped a beat when her eyes peered at a yellow dot on the world map hanging on the opposite wall. A new yellow thumbtack.

The yellow thumbtack acted like a magnet for her, causing her to automatically get up and walk to the map while her heart beat frantically in her chest.

She had almost forgotten the thumbtacks and their meaning. Since they had started dating they had made small trips, both by ship and to nearby towns for different reasons, but no new thumbtacks had appeared. Emma couldn't deny that she had felt a twinge of disappointment, but she had no intention of asking Killian for explanations and making him feel obligated to do something he did not feel or had simply forgotten.

But all her doubts vanished the moment she caught a glimpse of that bright spot on the map, matching the one that already appeared, piercing Boston. Even before reaching it she was sure of the location the new thumbtack was pinned on.

Portland - Maine.

Her fingers brushed the thumbtack reverently as the memories of that little trip came to her mind in waves.

They had traveled to Portland the previous weekend, on a short trip, but that had allowed them to spend the night in the town. It had been something improvised, really. Killian had come up with the idea on a Saturday morning suggesting that she accompany him on that small excursion to acquire some supplies, given that his usual store in Boston had run out of stock temporarily.

Although the road trip to Portland would not take long, Emma had been reluctant to leave the town so soon, since they would have the opportunity to spend some precious time together. That was why Killian had decided to extend the visit by renting a room for the night in a small cozy establishment near the port.

Once the products he had been looking for had been purchased, they had spent the rest of the weekend rediscovering the town, doing what any other normal couple would do, strolling through its streets, stopping at the many souvenir shops scattered around the old port area or enjoying delicious meals near the water.

Perhaps it was the fact of feeling free of responsibility, or the idea of spending the first night together outside of Boston, or maybe the magical atmosphere of the historic city, whatever it was, she had never felt that sense of fullness so powerful. And that feeling had increased even more when they had lost in each other in the shelter of their cozy room giving free rein to their passion.

The unexpected sensation of two firm arms encircling her waist from behind brought her back to reality. She had been so enthralled in her memories that she had not even realized that the guys had already arrived. Killian's warm breath against her ear caused goosebumps all over her skin as she arched her back against his chest and placed her hands on his arms, tightening the embrace.

"I thought you had forgotten." She muttered without taking her eyes off the map.

"Of course not, love." His lips brushed her cheek gently before continuing. "In fact, there may be a map of Massachusetts hidden in one of those drawers, and that map may already have several yellow dots marked."

Her heart fluttered as she turned her head looking for his gaze. "Are you serious right now?"

"Aye." He scratched behind his ear in that endearing gesture of his, one of the corners of his lips twisting slightly upward. "I thought it would be better if we reserved this map for our special trips."

She stared at him in disbelief, trying to process the meaning of his words. Not only had he not forgotten but he might have marked each of their little excursions. Instinctively, her gaze drifted back to the world map, while the desire for adventure, to travel around Europe, became even more pronounced, now that she did not see it as an unattainable dream.

As if reading her mind, Killian tightened his embrace even more as he leaned in, his lips caressing her earlobe as he whispered, "I intend to fill every corner of that map with yellow, Emma."

His words or rather their meaning, caused a wave of emotions to hit her hard, while that feeling that she had managed to control until now, struggled and struggled to be revealed, spreading like a flood through all the fibers of her being. Tell him, tell him, her inner voice screamed at her.

"You two. You're not alone, in case you wouldn't have noticed." Will's unexpected words caused her to wince. Saved by the bell. "Also, I'm hungry, let's see what the Swan Girl brought us today for lunch."

Before meeting Killian's intense gaze again, Emma took two deep breaths in an attempt to pull herself together. Soon, she thought. Soon the moment would come when she felt brave enough to say the words out loud.

Present Day

The distant sound of a horn brought her back to reality. Now that she had left the world of memories all her senses were active again. Her favorite music was still playing and her target had not yet appeared. The wait was becoming eternal. Emma couldn't help but let out a huff of annoyance as her gaze remained fixed on the facade of the building across the street. She had been stuck in her car forever, waiting for something, any movement that revealed her mark. No result for now.

The road trip had been unsuccessful. She not only had not caught the elusive perp, but she had missed Killian terribly. A spiral of mixed feelings had gripped her from the moment she had started her road trip. On the one hand, the nervousness and excitement of the pursuit, which gave way to frustration as time went by and she did not get the desired result. On the other hand, a strange feeling of longing had settled in her stomach, threatening to overwhelm her in its intensity.

She wasn't used to dealing with those almost paralyzing sensations, after so many years of solitude caused by the walls around her. She was a tough and independent woman. She had never needed anything from anyone so why now she felt as if something was missing, as if a piece of her heart had been lost preventing it from functioning properly? If a four-day separation was causing so much havoc in her, she did not even want to consider how she would be affected when Killian traveled to Ireland for several months. There is still a long way to go before that moment, she reminded herself, unable to deal with it for now. We will cross that bridge when the time comes, she tried to convince herself.

Meanwhile, she had something more important to focus on, catching the damn jumper once and for all. Killian was about to arrive at port, which meant that it was only up to her and her success to see him earlier.

At least she had the relief that the wait was about to end. They had finally managed to locate his whereabouts, now all that was left was for him to decide to abandon the place. He would have to do it at some point, right? Not only was she watching, but both Graham and Leroy were also in the area, each located at a strategic point to make sure that wherever he went, he would fall into the trap.

The unexpected buzz of her phone caused her to jump up in her seat. Without losing sight of the building, she grabbed her phone and moved her finger across the screen. Finally, she looked away for a moment to check the notification. A message from Killian. A warm feeling washed over her then, as she read the contents.

The Jolly Roger is already moored in port. How are you doing? Any news with your fugitive?

Nope. Nothing. It's a bit frustrating, to be honest.

You'll get him, love. I can't wait to see you, but if we have been separated for five days, I can wait a couple of hours more. I'll wait for you at my apartment. Good luck! And be careful, please.

I lov . .. Oh shit! Emma realized in time what she had been about to write. Her damned subconscious had tried to betray her. After letting out a deep sigh, she deleted the letters and typed an inoffensive message instead.

I'm always careful. See you in a little bit.

After sending the message, she locked the screen and dropped the phone on the passenger seat, trying to focus all her senses on the mission she had before her. Her hands clung to the wheel as she struggled to keep her mind blank, but the brief interaction with Killian had only increased her nervousness.

He deserved to hear the words, to feel loved not only through her actions but with a verbal manifestation, after so many years with a broken heart. And she, too, deserved to feel loved. The fact that he hadn't expressed his feelings aloud yet, although understandable, was beginning to generate some uneasiness inside her.

She was scared. Rather terrified. Not because she feared that her love wouldn't be reciprocated, but because of how it might affect her to develop such feelings. She had only spoken those words out loud on a previous occasion, with Neal. And what had she gained in return? A stay in prison and a feeling of betrayal and abandonment that had caused wounds that still hadn't healed. The feelings toward Killian were much more intense, which meant that the power he could exert over her would have more devastating consequences. She didn't want to imagine what would happen to her if things ended badly between them.

Even so, the need to express what she felt was becoming more powerful, surpassing any fear she still carried. She just needed a little extra push, maybe in the form of a reunion after several days separated.

A sudden movement across the street caught her attention instantly. She put aside her thoughts about Killian and her feelings and focused on her mission. Someone had appeared at the entrance to the building. The guy wore a cap and sunglasses in what looked like an attempt at camouflage, but there was something in his stance that raised Emma's suspicions so she narrowed her eyes following his every move.

The guy looked from one side of the street to the other and raised an arm to adjust his cap before starting to walk. That simple movement betrayed him as Emma was able to see, even in the distance, the tattoo he had on his forearm. Bingo!

Emma looked away from the perp only for a moment to shoot a quick message to her co-workers group chat.

Target located. Gonna catch him.

Without waiting for an answer, Emma turned off the music player and put the phone in a secure compartment under her shirt —Killian's gift, so as not to lose the device again —Her heart began to pound as the adrenaline rushed through her veins in anticipation of the very likely pursuit that was about to happen.

After taking a deep breath, she hardened her features, keeping her muscles alert and exiting the vehicle, ready to catch the perp as soon as possible. She had something much more important to do next. She had to meet her boyfriend and confess her true feelings towards him.

Thanks for reading. I’d like to know what you all think :)

The wait is almost over, I promise. They will reunite in the next chapter and there will be confessions.

@rouhn @couldnthandleit @teamhook @malec4everr @ijustwantyoucaskett-always@kmomof4 @resident-of-storybrooke @suwya @thisonesatellite @lfh1962

#cs ff #captain swan #cs au #my cs writings #call me #mayquita writes #captain swan ff #cs ff au

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porkchop-ao3 · 6 years

Text

A Girl's Best Friend: Part 1/3

I'm coming at you with a Doofus Rick/reader fic that nobody asked for that's all about crystals! If you've been following me for a while you might know I collect crystals, and so that's where the inspiration for this came from. The crystals in readers collection are actually based on some of my own (some I believe I've actually posted pics of before), so yeah! This is SFW, fluffy and cute, so I hope you enjoy :)

“This- this is a piece of Citrine. Di-did you know that? I know that some people like to decorate their houses with crystals and minerals, but I love to study them and I'm quite proud of my ability to identify them.” Rick said, grabbing my attention away from what I was doing; plumping up the sofa cushions. This was the first time he'd visited my home since we'd started our relationship together; although we'd been together for some months we most often spent time at his home since it was much more spacious. His initial reaction had been to quietly and curiously wander around the room (after asking if it was okay of course, he was ever so polite) and look at the various nicknacks I owned. He'd said to me you can learn a lot about a person from how they decorate their living space. Mine was rather cluttered, though everything had its place, I had a lot of stuff. I was a compulsive buyer, when I liked something I had to have it. Yes, it made it difficult to find a spot on my already packed shelves, but I loved everything, and I kept it all neat and mostly dust free.

“Yes. Well, actually that piece is heat treated Amethyst made to look like Citrine.” I replied, coming over to have a look at the cluster of glittering, golden rock. I picked it up from it's spot on the shelf and turned away to blow the fine layer of dust that had gathered on it; it was almost impossible to keep up with the cleaning and crystals like this were absolute dust magnets. I held it out to him so he could have a better look.

“Oh! Wow, y-you know your stuff.” He said, taking it from me and tilting it to and fro in the light, watching the many tiny terminations of the stone sparkle. “This is very pretty, isn't it?” He commented.

“It's beautiful. Crystals are my favourite things to collect, I have a few of them in here.” I told him, scanning my eyes over the shelving cabinet we were standing before. “Here's a piece of Selenite.” I said, plucking a specimen off the shelf below and holding it up. This was a tower, larger at the bottom and getting thinner at the top, coming in in stages so it had a staggered step effect. The shape highlighted the interesting effect light had on the stone; looking almost translucent at some angles, but bright glowing white in others.

“You collect rocks and minerals like this? Oh… that- that's incredible. I do too!” He said, looking up at me with wide eyes, so surprised like he'd stumbled across something amazing.

“You do? What a coincidence! I always love finding things in common with you.” I grinned, watching as Rick carefully placed the Citrine cluster back on the shelf. He turned his attention to the Selenite tower.

“Y-you know, the structure of Selenite is very interesting. It's also v-very fragile.” He commented, watching how I tilted the stone.

“It's made up of like… little tubes I suppose you could say. Linear layers, right? They can chip off very easily. Even just by scratching it.” I said, and Rick's face lit up.

“You really do know your stuff! Did you know they used certain types of Selenite as window panes in the past? In Rome, there is a church that still has them intact. The Basilica of Saint Sabina.” He explained, and I raised my brows.

“I didn't know that.” I mused. “That would be very interesting to see, have you been there before?” I asked.

“Unfortunately not. I have only read about it in books. P-perhaps one day we could go together.” He said hopefully, and I smiled.

“I'd like that.” I nodded, and we looked at each other for a while with silly little smiles on our faces. Moments like this occurred often between us, whether it was the giddiness of fresh romance or just the way Zeta-7 made me feel as a whole, I could spend hours simply looking at him. “Anyway.” I said, clearing my throat and pulling myself out from under his spell.

“Anyway.” He chuckled, rocking on his heels and flushing.

“I also have this piece of Labradorite here, this is one of my favourite stones. It's incredible how it catches the light, how in some angles it looks like a plain old black rock but then the light hits it and…” I trailed off, admiring the weighty sphere in my hand as a flash of blue appeared, outlined with green and gold. It was breathtaking. “Stunning!” I sighed.

“I don't have any of that particular stone in my collection, but I c-can most certainly see why you are drawn to it. I-i-it certainly is a treasure.” He said, and I handed it to him so he could study it for himself.

“Do you know why it does that? I mean, shines like that?” I asked him, and he squinted at the sphere, tilting it and watching how it shone.

“Hmm, the ire-ir-iridescent quality? I believe that the mineral it is made up of has these l-little fractures within each layer, and so when the light shines through these layers and hits a particular surface, it reflects back the light and disperses it, giving off all these pretty c-colours you see. Though… I'm by n-no means an expert on these kinds of things.” Rick explained, before handing back the crystal.

“Huh, so it disperses the light into different colours? Kind of like a prism?” I asked.

“Hmm, similarly. You were right in s-saying that it disperses the light, but a prism works differently. They refract the light as it shines through, changing the direction and wavelength, wh-which is why you see a rainbow. This stone reflects light back, rather than have it shine through.” He said, and I nodded.

“I see. Well regardless of how it works, it's very impressive. Who wants diamonds when you can have something like this?” I asked rhetorically with a smile.

“Diamonds cer-certainly have their own wonderful properties, but I agree; th-this stone looks much more impressive.”

“I've always thought to myself, if I ever get engaged I'd like a ring with a Moonstone or an Opal, rather than a diamond.” I said without thinking, then noticed the sudden stillness in the room. I mentally kicked myself, that was not meant to sound like a hint at all, especially not so soon into Rick and I's relationship, and so I scrambled to change the subject. “You know, Labradorite is said to expand our consciousness and aid in connecting to magical abilities like clairvoyance and telepathy.”

“Oh? D-do you believe that crystals have m-magical powers?” He asked me curiously, and I looked up at him from the stone.

“I'm not sure.” I admitted. “Whether they do or not, it's definitely interesting to learn about. It's also nice to think that way and keep it in mind, for example I have a piece of Green Aventurine that I carry around whenever I feel like I need some luck.”

“Why, is that meant to be a lucky stone?” He asked.

“Yes. And it really has been a lucky stone for me, in fact, I did not even pay for it. When I received it, I had gone to a crystal store to pick up a bunch of different tumbled stones. I had quite a selection, and when the person in the shop was serving me he must've somehow accidentally included it in my bag. So that was pretty lucky.” I smiled. “I didn't realise until I got home, and since then I've thought of it as my lucky charm. I was carrying it in my pocket when I went for my job interview, and I got the job. So there's that too.”

“You probably got the j-job because you're great, I-I-I wouldn't give all the credit to a stone, if I were you.” He chuckled.

“So you're skeptical of this stuff?” I asked.

“I suppose so. B-but like you said, it's certainly interesting. What does this piece do?” He asked picking up a piece of Fluorite, a mostly rough piece with one polished surface. It was mainly green but had a little purple in it too.

“That one is supposed to clear your head and allow you to let go of emotions that no longer serve you. It's sort of a detox crystal, if you will.” I explained, and he hummed thoughtfully before placing it back on the shelf.

“What's your absolute favourite piece?” He asked me, and my face lit up. I could talk for hours about gemstones, particularly the ones in my collection. I spun around the room, glancing over my shelves.

“Ohh, do I have to just pick one?” I asked, and Rick chuckled openly, seemingly delighted by my reaction.

“Okay, I-I-I'll settle for your t-top three.” He compromised and I thanked him graciously.

“Ah! Okay. In no particular order, then; this piece of Amethyst has to be up there.” I told him, reaching for the huge, heavy lump of purple rock that was just as wide and a little bit longer than my hand. It was a cluster with a mixture of small and large points jutting out from it's base. It sat beautifully on my shelf in a lovely triangle sort of shape. “It was one of the first large specimens I ever bought. I actually bought this from a market stall in town; I remember saying to the lady who ran it when I decided against buying it right away, that if it sold to someone else then I knew it wasn't meant to be. But then I went back the next week and it was still there, so...” I trailed off and chuckled.

“So it was meant to be.” Rick finished, shaking his head in amusement.

“Yes!” I laughed, handing him the stone.

“Oh, it's qu-quite heavy.” He commented as he turned the stone around, looking at the base of it, running his hand over the plain rock on the underside. I found it funny how out of the whole piece, that was the part he was most drawn to. “It is definitely a lovely piece, I-I-I'm glad that you were able to purchase it, since you like it so much.” He added, handing it back to me so I could put it back on the shelf.

“Hmm, now this one is even heavier. I won't take it off the shelf because bits of the rock flake off and make a mess if it's handled too much, but this is a Quartz Stalactite geode.” I told him, pointing up at the large rock that from most angles looked like an ordinary grey boulder, apart from the viewing angle where part of it had been chipped away, creating an opening into the rock where you could see inside to all of the little crystalline growths. They cropped out from the sides like fingers, with tiny crystal terminations covering the sides. It was extremely glittery and magical, and if fairies were real, this was where they'd live.

“Oh, wow! Th-that really is beautiful, and huge!” He gasped, moving his head from side to side to see inside from different angles. “I c-can see why you put these out on display, they're amazing!”

“Oh? What do you do with your collection, then?” I asked him curiously, and he gave me a sheepish look, like he thought I wasn't going to like his answer.

“I kee-keep them down in my basement, all in boxes and drawers to keep the dust and light away from them.” He admitted. Part of me wanted to gasp in horror, but the other part of me respected him even more for it. Sunlight could have a terrible effect on certain gemstones, fading their beautiful colours. The first crystal I ever got when I was a child was a piece of Amethyst, and in comparison to my newer specimens it was extremely dull and lackluster after years of being on display. I still loved it all the same, however.

“Well, I applaud your resistance. I might as well be a magpie, when I see shiny things I have to have them on display.” I chuckled. “I would love to see your collection one day, if you'd let me.”

“Oh, of course! I'd be happy to show you.” He said, and I could hear the sheer excitement in his voice at the prospect. It was infectious.

“Great! I'm sure yours are even brighter and more beautiful than mine. It seems like you take very good care of them.”

“Ah, b-but yours have sentimental value. Mine are just- I collected them simply to study their structure and composition. My interest in them was purely scientific, my attraction to their beauty was accidental.” He explained with a smile. “You have one more to pick.” He reminded me, and I jumped into action selecting the final of my top three. I scanned my shelves, my eyes landing on a particular piece after some deliberation.

“Oh, it must be this.” I whispered, reaching for the hand-sized chunk of quartz in question.

“Clear Quartz?” Rick asked, surprised. Out of all of my gemstones, Clear Quartz was certainly one of the less awe-inspiring, however, I was extremely drawn to it.

“Yes, this is one of my favourite stones too… even though it may look like simple, clear rock, there's always these little inclusions in it, little patterns. I could stare for hours, just looking at the shapes inside and the way it catches the light. And this piece in particular is very special, you see how it has two main points?” I asked.

“Oh, yes.” Rick nodded, inspecting it once I handed it to him. The specimen was a large point, with a secondary point jutting out of the side of it, and it was a milky white colour.

“Well, that makes it Twin Quartz. Though, it's also known as Soulmate Quartz, which I personally think is much more beautiful. This type of Quartz is supposed to help with relationships, and finding your soulmate.” I told him, looking at the way his expression turned thoughtful at that.

“Do you think it works?” He asked me after a moment.

“Well, I bought it not long before I met you, so… I hope so.” I said quietly, noticing a cute pink blush rise in his cheeks.

“I h-hope so too.” He stammered, taking a peek at my eyes before quickly looking back down at the crystal. My heart filled with warmth at his nervousness, and I couldn't help but step closer to him; placing my hand over the top of the crystal, entwining our hands around it, before kissing him. He let out a surprised little squeak, but quickly settled into the kiss, giving as good as he got as he leaned into me, tilting his head and sending my heart racing as the kiss deepened.

#rick and morty #rick sanchez x reader #doofus rick #rick j19zeta7 #fanfiction #Crystals

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serendibidibidis · 7 years

Text

Rules: answer the 30 (it’s actually only 28*) questions and tag some more people

Tagged by the beautiful @forvictorymyeverything ♡

1. Nicknames: T, T-MONEY, T-Money Milk$hake, Bunny, shade queen, Bubbles. and then 90% of my friends all have their own nicknames for me as well but my first 3 are my most common.

2. Gender: female xx

3. Star sign: Sagittarius

4. Height: 5'7"??? (I don’t know honestly)

5. Time: 11:49am

6. Birthday: 2811

7. Favorite bands: (only kpop) so I think it be too long if I answered this. However I’ll summarize my taste for you. (It’s not only K-pop whoops)

8. Favorite solo artists: (only kpop) so I love artists who are still underrated. I love watching them grow. It’s so fucking great. I like people who don’t change when a light is casted on them. I like real authentic people. Even if they’re an asshole they’re showing their true self. I don’t care for a style of music. I like them all. I’m someone who loves unknown artists, but I clearly love the known ones as well. They have recognition for a reason. I like people who are original and challenge the thought of comfort. People who know my tv debut is important but I need to use that as much as I can. (Skip to 2:50 if you don’t want to watch the whole thing) or people who push censorship to the limit. Swearing isn’t the only way to be censored. Rules or qualifications are changed on just about every award show if anyone from yg is in said show. It’s very easy to do nothing about it. But I like those who have a habit of forgetting how to hold their tongue.

9. Song stuck in my head: 21 by DΞΔN (Its not really a song but I also have the part where svt. Says their name in their songs you know “sevente-ee-een” that part?? It’s odd)

10. Last movie I watched: when’s the last time I’ve even seen a movie let alone what it was. Uhh I think deadpool?!

11. Last tv show: I sit at home and watch crime documentaries does that count? (I did binge watch some Ask us anything yesterday though..)

12. When did I create my blog: 3 years ago now?

13. What do I post: what don’t I post?! Shade, sunshine, fics, facts, & low quality memes too.

14. Last thing I googled: I feel like no one will believe that any of my Google searches are real but I can assure that yes I really do live this way. “if i have batteries in my pocket and they get wet will i get electrocuted”

15. Do I have other blogs: yes I do

16. Do I get asks: not normally no.

17. Why I choose my url: I couldn’t think of anything else. I have a name I really want to change it too but idk if I should cause it doesn’t completely apply. I also kinda wanna change my name because I stumbled upon a blog that’s name is similarish to mine and I don’t agree with their opinions.. (not that they’re bad ones or mine are right and there’s are wrong. But it’s too close of a name and I could see people thinking we’re the same blog/owned by the same person and it just getting really messy)

18. Following: 420….

19. Followers: plenty 💕 honestly I hate sharing the number of followers I have.. not because I’m ashamed or lying by saying ‘oh this blog is superrrrr popular’ (granted I don’t say that lmao) but the minute you start talking numbers that’s when it goes to others heads. I run like 8 blogs including this one… I probably spend the most time on this one. And this is one of my smallest blogs. I’m so fucking okay with that though. Because I have great people who I’ve met who don’t care about numbers. Regardless of followers I enjoy the people I talk to and the content i post. Plus the followers I do have are pretty fucking amazing.

20-

21. Average hours of sleep: like 9-12 BUT BEFORE YOU EVEN GO TO THE WHOLE 'HOLY SHIT HOW’ PART OF HOW MANY HOURS I SLEEP I DEADASS ONLY HAVE A GOOD SLEEP SCHEDULE OUT OF SPITE AND THAT SPEAKS VOLUMES ABOUT ME. (lol I’m suffering this time last year I was living off 30 minutes of sleep and tbh I’d pick that over 12 hours any day)

22. Lucky number: 23 (I don’t have a lucky number 23 is just my favorite number)

23. Insterments: LMAO I used to kazoo (Is that even the proper grammar for it?)

24. What am I wearing: khakis (unoriginal joke I know) I’m in pajama pants and a sweatshirt. Lol..

25.-

26. Dream job: I don’t even know what I want to eat for dinner let alone what I want to do for the rest of my life.

27. Dream trip: I don’t really have an ideal trip.

28. Favorite food: it changes because i get sick of eating the same thing all the time. But right now it’s actually really weird. It’s just plain ol’ salad..

29. Nationality: uhh? I look like I’m white does that count?

30. Favorite song right now: resist - djfriz & Mrshll

Haha I hit post to early so now I'm editing to tag some folks but I'm not sure who to tag... so I'm gonna type a random letter & the first person that shows up is who I'm tagging. I'm sorry.

@ssamdominic , @eureka-its-zico , @8bityeol *I accidentally hit 8 instead of I but totally okay with it* , @thecoolmrsokamura15 ♡♡

Okay I'm done tagging people

#tag you're it

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krystalprincesss · 7 years

Text

Glass Slipper

Originally posted by Sugutie

Summary: Namjoon is a lowly servant in a fairy-tale kingdom, and all he wants is to go to the ball.

Genre: fairytale, fluff, namjoon x reader

Word Count: 6.6k

A/N: This is my first fic inspired by Disney’s Cinderella! I apologize for it being so Namjoon-centered despite it being a Namjoon x Reader fic. Hope you all like! <3

Namjoon wanted to go to the ball.

“Ha! What for?” Lady Yang scoffed.

“To dance...”

“Dance?” Lady Yang grimaced. “More likely to try to meet a girl there, no? But that's preposterous. Who would want to marry someone as accident-prone as you? You'd burn the house down! Cause the crops to wither! Slice the arm of your wife off! Imagine if you caught the princess's eye! Forget risking her life, you might steal her away from my sons! No, no, Namjoon. That won't do at all.”

“I won't try to marry anyone,” Namjoon tried. “I'll just dance for a while and then go home.”

“I won't have it, Namjoon. Besides, there's still the carriage you broke this morning that still has to be fixed. I imagine that will take all day today and tomorrow to fix and we will need it for the ball. Lord, what I have to put up with you.”

Namjoon's spirits sank low. If only he hadn't shattered the largest ruby of Lady Yang's priceless necklace when he was helping her move in a few years ago. Then he wouldn't be stuck in this endless servitude trying to pay her back. Moreover, he keeps breaking stuff while working under her and sometimes it adds to his debt. Lady Yang would have gotten ridden of him a long time ago, but fortunately, the stuff he breaks is usually inexpensive or nothing he can't fix.

He figures his situation is about the best it can get. His mother left him and his father when he was a baby so he never really knew her, and his father died when he was twelve, leaving him homeless, penniless, and to join bands of youngsters in similar situations who would work odd jobs to make a living. That was how he got to help Lady Yang move in and create the accident that would resign him to a life of servitude under her. It was hard work that lasted all day, but Namjoon had his own room, even though it was dusty and not always warm. And Namjoon also had regular meals, so how could he complain?

Namjoon had few pleasures, such as tasting fruit pies as he made the dessert he was in charge of each night or going to the gadget shop whenever he need a tool or materials to fix something he broke because, on the way, he passes by the puppet show in the town square which he finds hilarious.

One of the things he really enjoyed, however, was dancing. He knew the basics of waltzing and such thanks to the few opportunities he had during town festivals to dance with a partner. Mostly he'd just dance by himself in his room at night. He thought himself good, experimenting with new moves, but then he'd look up at the mice plushies sitting on his shelf judging his dancing with clear distaste. So maybe Namjoon wasn't the best dancer, but it made him happy. He was really hoping he would be let to go to the ball, but he supposed it was a pleasure he would have to do without.

Lady Yang's two sons were indeed handsome, but they were also a bunch of idiots. As he washed their laundry the morning of the ball, Namjoon took a moment of silence for the princess and anyone else who would have to endure those two tonight. He spent the previous night collecting shoes, jewelry, and other fine things Lady Yang's sons had rush-ordered from the market. And now today, he was expected to wait on them. If you can believe it, those two still hadn't decided on what they were going to wear for the ball.

Namjoon ruined a shirt of Jungkook's accidentally while daydreaming about the ball. He lifted the now-pink shirt up and cursed himself. Jungkook was fond of his white shirts. When he came into Jungkook and Taehyung's shared room to put away their folded laundry, he sheepishly presented his mistake.

“Of course I can't expect you to do anything right. Why hasn't Mother fired you by now?” Jungkook snapped. He looked at Namjoon for a moment and then said, “Well, what are you standing around for? I don't want it anymore. You can throw it away. And hurry up. Taehyung's skinny bottom needs a belt.”

“Any preference?” Namjoon replied, looking down at the pink shirt he was folding in his hands.

“No, just bring the whole set. I might wear one too.”

Namjoon left the shirt in his room and brought out every belt Jungkook and Taehyung owned. At their orders, he also brought in the items he retrieved last night.

“I don't know,” Taehyung said, looking at the array of necklaces he spread out on his bed. “The one with emeralds is the fanciest one, but I feel the sapphire pendant brings out my eyes. What do you think, Jungkook?”

Jungkook, who was admiring his legs in the mirror, turned around. “Did you decide on the green velvet jacket?”

“Nah, the purple one.”

“The purple one?”

“It's water-resistant.”

“Why do you need a water-resistant jacket?”

“In case it rains.”

“Wouldn't the rest of you get soaked anyway?”

“Oh. Right...Well, it'll make me look royal.”

“Looking like a royal won't make you a royal, Taehyung.”

“Yeah, well. Maybe the princess would see how good I look in the nation's color and make me crown prince.”

“Whatever. Wear the topaz necklace.”

“Topaz???” Taehyung exclaimed, scandalized by the idea.

“To match your stupid hair, idiot!”

“Whose hair are you calling stupid, Mr. I've-had-the-same-tacky-hairstyle-since-the-dinosaur-age?!”

Jungkook and Taehyung went back and forth, criticizing each other's outfits, hair, faces, and eventually, stupid things they've done in the past. Which was a lot. Namjoon quietly listened as he sewed some buttons on a jacket Jungkook was considering wearing.

“If the princess ever heard about you running around practically naked in public because you tried to light fireworks and instead set your clothes on fire, she would never marry you,” Taehyung retorted to a fuming Jungkook. Right before Jungkook could spit something back at him, Namjoon spoke up.

“You guys really like her, huh?”

“What?” Jungkook and Taehyung chimed back.

“The princess.”

“What are you talking about?” Taehyung asked.

“Well, you two want to marry her, right?”

“Obviously,” Jungkook snorted.

“So you two must really like her. I know you've met her in the past,” Namjoon said, recalling a time the two and their mother attended a banquet at the castle. “She must have left a big impression on you two for you to be fighting over her like this.”

At this, the boys broke out laughing. Namjoon raised an eyebrow.

“Man, are you dense?” Jungkook asked, still laughing. “We're not interested in the princess for her personality or...whatever.”

Namjoon was confused. “Then why do you want to marry her?”

“She's rich, dude,” Taehyung piped.

Namjoon was even more confused. “So...not for love?”

Jungkook laughed, “Hell no. Can you imagine the life her husband would live? Hundreds of servants waiting on you. Endless fortunes to buy luxurious clothes, quality entertainment, and banquets by the best chefs in the kingdom. And never having to work a day in your life!”

“If you marry the princess, you'd be crown prince, meaning you'd eventually be king. You'd have a whole kingdom to look after,” Namjoon pointed out.

“The king's advisers can take care of that,” Taehyung said contently.

Namjoon blanched. Because it really just hit him. These were the princess's suitors? The possible candidates to be the nation's future king? And how could anyone marry without love, anyway? The thought appalled him.

“You know, I think I will go with the topaz necklace,” Taehyung said, picking it up to catch the light. “I heard topazes keep away rain.”

Namjoon held a silent prayer for the future of his kingdom.

Well, the carriage was finally fixed after Namjoon spent the rest of the day working on it, just in time for Lady Yang and her sons to rush off to the ball. Taehyung was going crazy at the possibility of it raining and ruining his hair and outfit, so much that Namjoon packed three umbrellas into the carriage in order to alleviate his worries.

Taehyung pinched Namjoon's cheek before climbing in the carriage.

“Good work,” he cooed.

Namjoon rubbed his cheek as he watched the others get in. Before the footman closed the door, Lady Yang said to him, “Remember to prepare the dessert for tomorrow and you didn't get to cleaning the fireplace so I want that done tonight as well. I expect we'll be back very late.”

With that, she closed the door herself and signaled the driver. Namjoon watched the carriage drive away. Namjoon sighed to himself. Even if he were to somehow get his chores done in time to at least arrive in the middle of the ball, he had nothing to wear. He was very tall, so Jungkook and Taehyung's clothes wouldn't fit him if he borrowed them for the night. And besides, how would he even get to the castle? These were the thoughts that had penetrated his mind constantly throughout the day, but as much as he went over the possibilities, the fact was that there were none. There was no way he was going to the ball.

Defeated, Namjoon decided to make the dessert for tomorrow first and made his way to the pumpkin patch in the back.

Some pumpkin pie for tomorrow, Namjoon thought, his spirits rising only slightly at the imagined taste of the sweet pastry. He sawed at the plump pumpkin's stem with his knife when all of the sudden, boom! Something exploded some yards away. Namjoon jumped and dropped his knife. Clouds of pink smoke quickly filled the pumpkin patch and his lungs. He coughed out the smoke that smelled of bubblegum.

“Greetings, Namjoon!” A male voice called out. “You need not fear me. I come to your aid!”

Once the smoke cleared, Namjoon could see a man amongst the pumpkins in a ridiculously large and cotton-candy pink piece of clothing that looked like something a wizard would wear. He also held a silver wand.

“Speechless, I see. That's the problem of being devastatingly handsome,” the man said whilst flipping his hair. “Well, to come straight to the point, I'm your fairy godfather, Jin. I heard you wanted to go to the ball.”

Namjoon simply stared. “What are you wearing?”

“Well...” Jin started, looking very flattered until the criticism of Namjoon's words hit him.“Wait, what? What's wrong with my habit?”

“It's pink.”

“And?”

“You look like chewed gum.”

“Well, look who's talking!” Jin huffed. He took a deep breath to compose himself. “Look, Namjoon. I came here so that I could take you to the ball. Now we can stay here all night critiquing each other's outfits, or I can get you in some party clothes and a carriage to go to the ball.”

“Will the party clothes look like that?” Namjoon inquired, pointing at Jin's outfit. He saw fire in Jin's eyes. “Alright, alright. Sorry. Let's see what you can do then.”

Jin took another deep breath. “Okay, that's better.” He rolled up his sleeves and began waving his wand. “First, to get you some transportation.”

He looked around and then pointed his wand at a particularly large pumpkin. Namjoon couldn't believe it, but the pumpkin started growing bigger, bigger, and bigger. Its interior was changing to cushioned seats and curtained windows while its exterior grew wheels, a driver's seat, and sturdy walls. Right as Namjoon thought the pumpkin would burst, it stopped growing. Before him lay a pumpkin shaped carriage, as orange as ever.

“Yes, that will do nicely,” Jin nodded to himself. “And now some horses.”

Jin went on to make four horses, a driver, and a footman from some mice that were scurrying about. Then he turned to Namjoon, announcing that he will give him a change of clothes.

“Here goes nothing,” Namjoon muttered.

He closed his eyes and felt a tingling around his body. Then he felt a change of weight as the new clothes began to dress his body. Namjoon felt a slight elevation as his shoes changed from his worn out flat ones to new, somewhat uncomfortable ones. He opened his eyes.

He wore the softest white shirt he had ever felt, let alone wear, along with a closed, silky silver jacket with a standing collar and pearly buttons. He had on matching silver trousers, white gloves, and when Namjoon felt at his head, he could feel the velvety smoothness of his styled, sandy hair. Jin had cleaned him up nicely.

“Wow,” he said, looking up at Jin and stepping over some pumpkins to clasp his hand and give thanks. “I had no idea it would turn out- Wait, ow. What the-?”

Namjoon looked down at his aching feet and gave a look of surprise. On his feet were glass shoes! He could make out his silver socks through them. He looked at Jin in confusion.

“That's what you get for making fun of my pink habit earlier. Glass can be pretty uncomfortable, but on the plus side, it looks very fashionable,” Jin said smugly, crossing his arms.

Namjoon let out a nervous chuckle. “Um, they won't break, will they?”

Jin sighed. “How I wish you would stop doubting me. These are the sturdiest glass you'll find!”

“Okay, fine.” Namjoon brushed down his jacket and straightened himself. “Thank you, fairy godfather Jin. Honestly. I'm very thankful to be able to go to the ball now. How can I repay you?”

Jin waved him away. “Ah, nothing, Namjoon. This is what I do. Just have a great time and that'll be enough for me.” Jin looked behind him, squinting hard at the huge clock. “Ah! It's getting late! You must be off!”

He pushed Namjoon into the carriage and slammed the door shut, much to the surprise of the footman. He popped his head through the window. “Namjoon! One last thing! This carriage, the horses, your clothes and everything will only last till midnight. So unless you want to be stark naked in the middle of the ballroom, I suggest you be home by then!”

Jin made to get off the step of the carriage.

“Wait!” Namjoon called. “Do you think you could teach me some dance moves? Or zap me into a better dancer?”

Jin cackled. “You're on your own there, buddy.”

And with that, Namjoon was off to the ball.

By the time Namjoon arrived in the ballroom, the dance was well in its way. He looked around nervously, wanting to dance, but knowing no one here. Every suitable partner seemed to already have someone to dance with. He looked around for Lady Yang and her sons. Once spotting them, he made a mental note to keep out of their way. He wanted to enjoy this night fully.

The band was playing a lively waltz. Namjoon longed to dance and watched as the couples danced in near-perfect synchronization. To have something to do rather than just stand there and pine, Namjoon made his way over to the refreshment table. Rows of sparkling glasses of champagne awaited him. He picked one up gingerly, knowing very well how he usually was around glassware. He lightly sipped and then turned around....and abruptly bumped into someone.

Namjoon's hold on the glass nearly slipped and he barely saved it and himself from toppling over the rest of the glasses. He thanked the high heavens that he didn't make a mess of the table, especially since before him, stood you.

“I'm very sorry, sir. I wasn't paying attention,” you apologized. You were looking down as you smoothed down the front of your dress. It had thin straps, a sweetheart neckline, and a voluminous silky skirt that cinched at your hips. It was a very lovely shade of pale lilac and you wore long matching gloves. Your hair was up in a high bun and you wore some shimmer on your eyelids and a bit of gloss on your lips. To put it plain and simple, you were the most gorgeous girl Namjoon had ever seen.

“N-no, the fault is m-mine,” Namjoon stuttered, internally cursing at himself.

Then you finally look up at the person you bumped into, your breath catching. If you were to describe your ideal type, here he was in the flesh. His tall stature, the contrast between his soft gaze and his uniquely fierce eyes, the way a dimple formed on his left cheek as he smiled at you.

“Hello,” you breathed out.

“Hi. I mean, good evening,” Namjoon bowed. You curtsied in reply. “Did you come to have a drink?” Namjoon asked.

“Yes, but I'm not thirsty anymore,” you responded. You looked over at where all the couples were dancing and then turned back to him. “I would like to dance. Would you be my partner?”

Namjoon felt instant glee and accepted. He put his glass down and offered you his arm. You took it, smiling at him as Namjoon's heart melted. You both made your way to the center of the ballroom.

As soon as your foot stepped onto the dance floor, your father, the king, sat up immediately, his apparent antennas of anything concerning you and possible marriage reacting. He grinned at the sight of you and your partner getting into position to start the next dance and felt behind him, grasping the jacket of his most trusted adviser.

“Who is he? Who is he?!”

The adviser struggled with the king's grasp, lamenting the silver buttons that were coming off, saying, “Sire, please!” until the king finally let go. Then he squinted his eyes at your partner. “I've never seen him before. I don't believe he was announced.”

“Find out who he is! Just look at her!” The king was practically falling out of his seat. “Head over heels! I do believe I shall have my grandchildren yet.”

“Sire, honestly! Do you think it wise to let her decide who she marries? What if she picks a fool for a king?”

“My daughter is not dense,” the king replied. “She knows idiots when she meets them and would not deign to suffer their presence, nevermind marry one. You will find out the name of this boy. And his family. And you would do it soon!”

The adviser bowed and turned to leave, but the king stopped him.

“Tell that miserable conductor to play a more romantic tune. What is he thinking, playing that rambunctious music?!”

“As you wish, sire.”

You, on the other hand, smiled brightly at Namjoon as you both stood waiting, your hands in position to dance, for the music to start.

The band began playing a slow tune that was wonderfully romantic as you and Namjoon danced together. You could not see the crowd or anything besides Namjoon. You both floated around the ballroom, Namjoon twirling you a few times. Throughout the entire waltz, you were both smiling, lost in each other.

You and Namjoon danced another waltz, and then found yourselves at the edge of the ballroom, at the doors which led to the garden. You invited him to come walk with you, which he happily accepted.

“I've had men asking for my hand all night,” you said after walking for a bit among the rose bushes. “You're the only one I've decided to dance with.”

“You couldn't have picked a more better dancer,” Namjoon smiled mischievously.

“Oh? Is that so?” You giggled.

“Milady, you are looking at the kingdom's best solo dancer.”

“How fortunate I am! I would enjoy a demonstration of your fine skills, sir.”

Namjoon chuckled, setting himself up at a short distance from you. “You're in for a show, madam.”

You grinned, adjusting your skirts as you sat down on a nearby bench to watch your handsome prince dance before you. What you weren't expecting was an octopus-sort of dance, complete with silly footwork. You laughed, but Namjoon was undeterred, his objective being to make you laugh.

You stood up and danced along with him. Your moves were more graceful and fluid, but still very goofy. You and Namjoon danced together as if competing to see who could look more ridiculous until you both fell on the ground, unable to stop laughing.

“What fun!” You exclaimed. “I've never had such an experience before!”

“You've never danced all crazy?” Namjoon asked, still laughing a bit.

“No, and never mind in front of anyone else. I'm expected to act very prim and proper in front of others, and they are expected to as well. I think you're the first one whose ever made laugh like this,” you giggled.

“Is that a good thing?”

“It's the best thing! You're quite fun to be with.”

Namjoon smiled, very happy to see you happy.

The rest of the evening toned down as you and Namjoon left behind your silliness and continued your walk, talking about anything and everything. You would point out the prettiness of the moon and Namjoon would offer an explanation to its brightness as he had read in books. Then he'd go into his own thoughts about the strangeness and wonderfulness of how its the same moon everyone sees no matter where they are or what time they live in. How strange the things around us are so constant yet the world is ever changing at the same time. How wonderful people learn from others from the past and continue to learn and grow. The odds of the world being the way it is, people discovering things when they do, the chances of meeting people who end up changing your lives. He ends his philosophical thoughts with saying how glad he is to have met you, and how he will remember you after this night by looking up at the moon.

At the end of it all, you stand there thoroughly surprised because how many times have you over-contemplated things and ideas of the world as he just had, and what are the chances that you and your prince shared this tendency, and also, how much more romantic could your prince get?

“I'm sorry if I bored you a bit there,” Namjoon says, realizing how long he droned on.

“No, don't apologize,” you said. “Honestly, I think about things like that all the time as well.”

“Really?” Namjoon said, his dimples showing.

You grinned. “Yes, and I'm very happy to see that I'm not alone in that.”

You were in a part of the garden that was close to the ballroom. You could hear another waltz start to play. Namjoon bowed.

“May I have this dance?”

You took his hand and another series of dancing began, though this time through the garden. You both stopped when you reached a white fountain with sparkling water and you both sat at its edge. Namjoon took a big leap of faith and slowly put his arms around you with your side at his chest and you let him. You sighed contently as he held you, looking at the big clock of the castle which you had a good view from where you sat.

“What's your name?” Namjoon murmured, gently stroking your cheek and jaw with his gloved fingers.

“___,” you told him. “What is yours?”

“I'm-”

The giant castle clock sounded.

Oh crap, Namjoon thought.

“Um, I'm very sorry, but I have to go,” he said, gently releasing you from his embrace and standing up.

“What do you mean?” You asked, tilting your head to your side. Namjoon found this absolutely adorable, but no, wait, he can't get sidetracked.

“It's hard to explain, but I really have to go now! Thank you for such an amazing night. I'll never forget it, or you.”

With that, Namjoon was gone. You stood up, puzzled, and then the forever-ness of his goodbye hits you and you go to your father's people to seek your prince out.

Namjoon had exited through the ballroom and found himself in pursuit from some guards. He ran down the hallways and out the main door to fresh air. He sprinted down the stairs, skipping almost entire flights until he admirably trips and falls flat on his face, one of his glass shoes flying in the process. There was no time to recover from the fall and Namjoon hurriedly stood up and went off again, forgetting his shoe. The footman beckoned him with his hand urgently, holding the door of the orange carriage open for him. Namjoon dove inside the carriage and the footman had barely enough time to close the door and hold onto the carriage when it sped off.

On the way home, Namjoon wondered what would happen if he was still inside the pumpkin when everything changed back. He debated jumping out the carriage when it stopped. He was home, or at least, at Lady Yang's home. Namjoon rushed out of the carriage and just in time too. He watched as the pumpkin shrank in size and his helpers turn back into mice.

Breathing hard, he looked down at himself. He was naked except for the glass shoe still on his foot. He vaguely recalled losing the other one. Namjoon took the shoe off and tapped it. He even hit it against the ground for good measure. Sturdy, just like Jin said. Namjoon had no idea why the glass shoe remained but he was happy for it, treasuring it as a memoir of the best night he ever had.

Namjoon changed into his thin pajamas in his room and put the glass shoe away, well-hidden. Then he took the pink shirt of Jungkook's that he had ruined in the wash basin the previous morning and set it by his windowsill. He gave his thanks to Jin once again, gazing out into the night sky, and then went to bed, thinking of you. By the time Namjoon woke up, the shirt was gone.

“You'll go door to door trying on the glass shoe on every young man in the kingdom. No exceptions,” the King said the next morning to his most trusted adviser in his royal office.

“Can't I come along, Father?” you said, coming closer to his desk. “I spent the entire night with him! I would know him when I see him!”

“I'm not too sure about that, milady,” the royal adviser said.

“Yes,” said the King. “He could have dyed his hair for the event. Worn makeup. Doing so is still the trend, you know. The fact is, people come to these events looking their absolute best. You'd be surprised at how many people look different from their dolled-up selves.”

“I still think I could recognize him.”

“Maybe so, but I won't risk your safety by letting you go door to door at every home in the kingdom. I think the shoe would be a good indicator of your dream man. It is quite big. I assume it wouldn't fit many men.”

“But what if it fits several?”

“Then we'll bring them all to the castle and you can see for yourself if any of them is your prince.” The King clapped his hands. “Now that's that. You must let my adviser be on his way.”

You sighed and went to your bedroom, thinking of your mystery man as you played the waiting game.

“What have you been doing all night? I thought I told you to clean the fireplace and make the dessert,” Lady Yang chastised.

“I must have fallen asleep,” Namjoon said. “Working on the carriage took a lot out of me.”

Not to mention dancing all night with ___, he thought.

“I'll get right on them both,” Namjoon assured his boss. He disappeared into the kitchen right as the doorbell rung. A few moments later, Lady Yang yelled for Namjoon to return to the foyer.

“Is something wrong?” he asked after complying. The visitor had been their neighbor, Lady Jung, who smiled and bid them goodbye. Lady Yang curtsied to her and turned back to Namjoon, closing the door.

“Never mind the dessert! I need you to wake up Taehyung and Jungkook and help them get ready. I want them in their best clothes, hurry!”

“What happened?”

“No questions, Namjoon! Just do it!”

Jungkook and Taehyung were a pain to wake up in the morning, but Namjoon was the embodiment of patience and kept at it until they both finally sat up in their beds, hair sticking up and eyes squinting at Namjoon.

“What do you want?” Jungkook asked lazily.

“Your mother wants you two up. I think something important has happened.”

At that moment, Lady Yang bursts in. She has changed into some of her finer dresses and her hair is styled a lot neater. At the sight of her boys still in bed, she gasps.

“You must get up! I've just gotten the most excellent news! The princess is looking for the man she danced with last night in hopes of marrying him!”

“...Okay?” Taehyung asked. “He obviously wasn't us.”

Lady Yang scowled at him. “Here's the thing. No one knows who that man was, not even the princess. A royal adviser is going around the kingdom having men try on a glass shoe that was left behind by the mysterious man. You both may yet have a chance!”

Taehyung and Jungkook looked at each other in brief silence. Then, as if lightning had struck them, they shot out of their beds and clamored to their closets, pulling out clothes and more clothes and yelling at Namjoon to come help them.

Namjoon couldn't speak. He couldn't breathe. A glass shoe, she had said? Namjoon felt the blood drain from his face.

No.

He had danced with the princess?! How very stupid of him to not figure it out! The way everyone had parted to let him and you enter the dance floor. How you knew your way around the gardens. The fact that you shared the same name with the princess, who was in fact, you!

Namjoon helped Lady Yang's sons get ready, all the while daydreaming of you. They were not at all concerned at his silence. Once they were ready and heard from another neighbor that the royal representatives were in the area, Lady Yang preoccupied herself with setting her sons in perfect positions around the main sitting room.

“And where shall I sit?” Namjoon asked.

Lady Yang let out a bark of a laugh.

“No, no Namjoon. You have yet the fireplace to clean.” She led Namjoon to their smaller sitting room, gesturing to the fireplace. “I'm locking you in here as well. I won't have you trying on the shoe and possibly taking away the chances of my sons marrying the princess. And I will advise you to stay quiet as well or there will be consequences!”

As soon as she locked the door, the door bell rung.

Namjoon debated making all the noise just so that they would come in here and have him try on the glass shoe. But, Namjoon looked down at his sooty and raggy appearance. He certainly didn't look like a prince. They would sooner laugh at him than let him try on the shoe. Or what if he did try on the shoe and they took him to the princess? And she found out who he really is? Namjoon couldn't take that rejection. He found that he agreed with Lady Yang's locking him in here. Much better to leave last night as a fond memory.

You had been pestering your father all day with the entire situation of finding your mystery man, wanting updates. Exasperated, he finally sent out a messenger to find his adviser and report back how the glass shoe fitting was coming along. But this wasn't good enough, so you disguised yourself as a guard with the begrudging help of another guard whom you were friends with. Together, you two accompanied the messenger in search of the royal adviser.

He was at the residence of a Lady Yang. The messenger, you, and your friend guard entered the home at the invitation of Lady Yang and were guided to the main sitting room, which was a complete mess. The royal guard the adviser had brought with him had been acting as a shoe fitter. He was struggling to take off Taehyung's many socks, which he had stuffed onto his foot after seeing the size of the glass shoe.

“Your foot is too small,” Jungkook casually stated.

“And yours is too big!” Taehyung retorted. Jungkook had already went but alas, could not squeeze his giant foot into the shoe.

You all watched the scene unfold. The adviser and messenger talked a little of how no one had fit the shoe yet. Finally, the guard managed to take off all of Taehyung's socks despite Taehyung's attempts to keep them on. He put Taehyung's bare foot into the shoe and found that his heel didn't reach the back of the shoe.

The royal adviser sighed. “Well, this is the last house,” he said, the words surprising you. Was there really no one who fit the shoe?

“I'm not quite sure how to break this to the King,” the adviser continued. “Are you sure there aren't anymore young men in this household?”

“No, sir. My sons are the only ones.”

The royal adviser nodded and marched out the room. You let a little sigh and you and the rest of the guards went out the door. The members of the household walked behind your little party on your way to the front door.

“I'm sorry my sons and I could be of no assistance, but should you not find your mystery man-”

“ACHOO!”

Everyone looked to their left at a closed door.

“No other young man here, milady? That sure sounded like one,” the royal adviser said, side-eying Lady Yang. You looked at him in expectation, even though he acknowledged you no more as a guard. “Please open the door, Lady Yang.”

Lady Yang's face were as if it were made of stone. Slowly, she took out a key and unlocked the door. She gently pushed it open.

Namjoon was wiping his face with his dirty sleeve. He was covered in soot and any slight motion he made disturbed the ashes of the fireplace, making them float up all around him. He turned around when he heard people step in, surprised to see you all.

You knew it. Even covered in cinders, you knew his face anywhere. Your mouth pulled into the brightest smile at him. Namjoon immediately recognized you through your disguise and his heart stumbled in its beating at the sight of you, but he winced, knowing how awful he looked.

“Young man,” the royal adviser began. “I am one of the king's royal advisers, here with his royal guard and messenger. Are you aware of the reason for our presence?”

“Yes...” Namjoon quietly said, glancing at Lady Yang, whose eyes threatened to murder him.

“Perfect. We would have you try on this glass shoe.”

The royal adviser had him sit down on a cushioned chair. Namjoon was sure Lady Yang would make him pay for ruining her chair with soot. The shoe fitter knelt as he removed Namjoon's worn out shoe. Namjoon didn't even want to look at you, feeling very ashamed of his situation. You, however, looked on happily, feeling all of your dreams come to fruition the closer it got to Namjoon trying on the shoe.

The shoe fitter held up the glass shoe, ready to fit Namjoon's foot into it when, suddenly, the shoe shattered into pieces. The royal adviser gasped loudly. You jumped when it broke. Namjoon was surprised that it broke at all, remembering its strength. Then he looked up at his employer and her sons, seeing Lady Yang's smug face and Jungkook and Taehyung low-five each other while Jungkook hid his slingshot in his pocket and understood. Jungkook always was a good and powerful shot.

“What...W-what?” The royal adviser stuttered, unable to believe it. “How?!”

After getting over your initial shock, you realized it didn't matter. You knew the young man in front of you was the one. You stepped forward, ready to reveal yourself and declare your intentions, when he spoke up.

“If it helps,” Namjoon said. “I have the other one.”

“What did you say?” The royal adviser asked him, looking up from the shattered pieces with wide eyes.

“It's right here,” Namjoon said. He crossed over to the fireplace, revealing a glass shoe from around its corner. Namjoon had brought it with him that morning, not trusting its previous hiding place after all. The shoe fitter swiftly took the shoe from him and put it on Namjoon's foot before any more accidents happened.

It was a perfect fit. Lady Yang and her sons were shocked. The royal adviser let out a huzzah. Namjoon looked up and smiled at you shyly. You smiled back and revealed yourself, taking off your hat and letting loose your hair.

Everyone but Namjoon gasped.

“P-princess!” The adviser stuttered. “How did you come-? Who let you-?”

“I'm very sorry, but I was getting a bit impatient waiting in my room. And now, if you don't mind...” You turned to the man who fit the glass shoe.

“What is your name, sir?” You asked, beaming with happiness.

“Namjoon,” he said, grinning.

You smiled, content at finally knowing his name. You weren't sure what to expect. Perhaps not that the young man you had danced with last night was a servant, but it made no difference to you. He was the man of your dreams whose dimpled smile made you go weak.

“Would you marry me, Namjoon? I promise I'll make you very happy,” you said.

“Of that I have no doubt. Of course I'll marry you.”

You went up to him and kissed him, savoring the feel of his plush lips. To Namjoon, your kiss felt like heaven.

Then Lady Yang cleared her throat. “That's all very well, but I'm afraid Namjoon has a debt to me. His servitude has yet to pay it all off.”

You turned back to the mistress of the house. “What does he owe you?”

“He broke my most valued ruby necklace. It costs more than this house!”

“Ah,” you said. You felt under your guard uniform and pulled out a long chain of diamonds that you wore all the time. You removed it from your neck and offered it to her. “Would this suffice in paying his debt?”

Lady Yang and her sons' eyes glittered at the jewels. Lady Yang took it. “I suppose this would do,” she said.

“You didn't have to do that,” Namjoon told you.

“Something tells me you've worked much more than you've ought to. But you don't have to worry about that anymore,” you replied quietly, taking his hand.

“Thank you, ___.” Namjoon gently took hold of your other hand and raised it to his lips.

You and Namjoon married a few months later. After seeing how wise and fully capable Namjoon would be as a monarch, you and your father changed the rules from seeing you as the sole monarch of the kingdom to a co-rule between you and your husband. It took several years before you two would rule, but once you two were crowned king and queen, your kingdom saw a great flourishing of trade, food, and peace. Your father finally got to spend the rest of his years spoiling his two grandchildren, a boy and a younger girl. Namjoon continued making you laugh and you two filled your days with deep conversation, desserts, and of course, dancing. In the end, you both lived happily ever after.

#mine #namjoon fic #rapmon fic #namjoon fluff #rapmon fluff #bts fanfic #namjoon fanfic #rapmon fanfic #namjoon #rap monster

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austennerdita2533 · 7 years

Note

When you get this you must say one nice thing about at least five of your favorite blogs. Then copy and paste in each of their boxes

@accidental-rambler Can I squeal about how wonderful Kate is for the rest of eternity?!? First off, her writing talent and edit-making is boundless! I can’t begin to tell you how how many times she’s reduced me to tears because what she created was so gorgeous. It is absolutely IMPOSSIBLE for me not to exclaim over every single thing she posts. More than that, she’s such a caring and supportive friend who’s always there to douse me with writing encouragement, gush over our many, many shared interests, or to discuss other life matters, cheering me up any way she can. One of the best people around, she is.

@lclrgsl Luce is infectious in all the best ways! Her humor and hilarity brings a smile to my face daily, and she often makes me feel better--lighter--simply by being herself. I keep wanting to bribe her telling her to write more because she expresses herself so beautifully. I’m stirred emotionally by every damn word I read of hers and her edits have me hitting the REBLOG button so fast I don’t know what to do with myself. Also, she’s entirely to blame for damning me to new OTPs. *cough* Rebelcaptain *cough cough*

@purestheartslove I love Mimi, her writing and edits, and her blog more than words can express. She’s so humble about her writing, particularly, that I feel it’s more than necessary for me to screeeam about her amazing work so that the entire universe sees! (And reads it.) She also has fantastic taste in books, and for a true book nerd like me, I’m always !!!!!!! when I encounter someone with similar reading interests.

@itsnotacrimetoloveyou Life would not be the same without the lovely Luiza. I am in awe of her mature, shrewd mind because she pays such close attention to the world around her. We have some of the best chats about the books, shows, and ships we love but also about the countries we live in, the experiences we’ve had, and the projects we want to finish but haven’t found time to complete yet. I know she’s a genuine friend because she’s one of the first to get behind anything and everything I do.

@sleeplessbutdreaming Absolutely, without a doubt, one of the nicest and most brilliant people I’ve encountered. I literally jump up-and-down with excitement when I think about all of the commonalities we share. She’s so incredibly insightful and sends me the best most evil asks. Like me, she has a penchant for analysis and that--I believe--makes us kindred spirits in every sense of the phrase. :)

@ksfd89 Honestly, I don’t know how I’d cope without our nearly-daily chats? They’ve become such an enjoyable part of my day. Something I always look forward to because I feel I relate to you on so many different levels, separated by an ocean though we may be. Our love for Gilmore Girls and books (among other things) is boundless, and it makes me so incredibly happy you’ll fangirl with me over them. You’re such an open-minded, kindhearted soul and I feel so so grateful to know you.

@misssophiachase I love Cristy to pieces. Not only does she blow me away with the sheer quantity of fic she produces, but she astounds me with the quality of which each piece retains. It’s so inspiring! She’s also a bundle of sweetness, offering me an endless supply of kind remarks and sharing my passion for oh-so-many things.

@klarolinekolvina Alicea is such a darling friend! Nothing makes me happier than to exchange messages with her about the things we both enjoy. (Which are seemingly infinite, indeed.) She is totally my romcom-loving twin and I have such a blast discussing writing things with her.

@recklessnesspersonified What precious sunbeam you are, Ezza! A message, a tweet, or a tag from you never fails to enrich my days. Our interests align in so many different ways and I love how I can spend hours discussing things like Shakespeare with you. More than that, you’re concerned about my personal well-being, asking about how my health is faring etc., and that truly means a lot.

Anyway, I know there are quite a few others I left out despite having filled this out twice now haha but just know that I’m appreciative of you ALL. *sends every one of my precious mutuals lots of love*

#accidental-rambler #lclrgsl #purestheartslove #itsnotcrimetoloveyou #sleeplessbutdreaming #ksfd89 #misssophiacase #klarolinekolvina #recklessnesspersonified #the loveliest of lovely people #Anonymous

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dapokemonmadster · 7 years

Note

all primary numbers for the fic ask meme!!

Wow okay it’s really summer break I had to look up prime numbers to remember what they were HHHHHHH

2, 3 and 5 have been done!

7. What’s the fic you most want to continue (unfinished or no)?:Mmmm that’s a hard one, because the answer is, A FEW. The two at the top of that list are My safe Haven is With You and Avatar Special. Like I’ve said in the earlier asks, I love AS and really want to continue it, the problem is that, going back, I really don’t like what I’ve written for it so far. To fix it, I’d have to go back and rewrite a lot of it, which I don’t have the energy for right now. And MSHWY? Well... I just need to make myself do that, haha! I’ve got no good reason for postponing that one! I also hope to make a sequel for Enter the Fans some day. And make it much better than its predecessor.

11. Have you ever written a fic for a concept you know someone else has done before? How did it impact your writing process or feelings after posting?: YES, TOTALLY. Fresh and original concepts are very hard to come up with. Like our writing teachers always like to say, there are only a limited number of plotlines in the world. To be honest, I like to disagree with that, but the fact remains that even if you come up with something that you’ve never heard of, odds are somebody has already written something with an extremely similar plot or concept. However, a problem that many writers face (or really, I wouldn’t call it a problem but more of a challenge), is accidentally (or purposefully) including elements of some of your favorite pieces. I find that happens more often in fanfics, since you’re all working with the same characters. I ran into this problem most often with my (never posted) Overwatch fics. I’d read so many Pharmercy fics that they’d kind of gotten all jumbled together in my brain, and I couldn’t really recall which ideas were from which fic! And when I started writing my own, I was heavily influenced by this jumble of ideas to the point where I felt that I was just rewriting, in some ways, scenes that had happened in other people’s fics.

13 has been done!

17. In your opinion, what’s your most overrated fic?:FFFFFF ENTER THE FANS. Yeah sure, it was decently written and funny, but like, it totally catered to fanon expectations and I could’ve written it so much better honestly. I mean, I had a lot of fun writing it, and I’ll be keeping it up forever so more people can enjoy it if it’s up their alley, and I can see how far I’ve come, but it was so... bleh. I dunno. And I think in some ways, my younger self was kind of offensive and uneducated about a few things which makes me a little less proud of it nowadays.

19 has been done!

23. What’s the nicest review you’ve ever gotten?:OH MAN, THAT’S HARD SINCE I’VE GOTTEN A LOT OF REALLY NICE AND SWEET ONES (I love my followers, thank you so much!!), BUT LEMME TRY AND FIND A GOOD ONE!! (Also please note that a lot of my really nice ones were sent in by @beanmaster-pika, @vradmic, and @viktvr-nikiforov) Okay, but one that’s still pretty fresh on my mind and made me smile like crazy was from Wolvesrock14 on Fanfiction.net! “Dude. Dude! You see what you've written here? Well guess what, it's freaking amazing! Like, just, wow! You've written literally everything so–... Perfectly! And I mean everything. From the way the story's written to the way the characters think and interact– Just awesome. I teared up while reading this chapter. It was that freaking heartfelt and emotional. So yeah, GREAT job on that, and I can't wait to see what other heart wrenching things you've got in store. Until then, keep up the awesome work 'cause you're doing great!” THAT MADE ME SO HAPPY!!!

29. Does the division of your writing across fandoms line up with your reading? What’s the biggest discrepancy?:HONESTLY, NO. The most fics I read are for RWBY nowadays, and I’ve got what, 4 fics? (That’s actually more than I thought but whatever) I’ve published 10 fics, and 6 of those are for pokespe. So yeah, I’m slacking on those RWBY fics!! Also I’m going to publish a new story soon for a fandom I’ve never written for before (side eyes Fire Emblem), and I’ve only read like 2 fics for it, haha. But those two fics were both REALLY GOOD. Very high quality.

31. Who’s the one character you’ve just never managed to get perfectly right?:Hmmmm. HMMMM. That’s a tough one. I’ve never felt like I’ve had a hard time with any pokespe characters (reader, am I right? Or have I gotten some of them wrong?), but I also haven’t written for every spe character. Concerning RWBY... I feel like I haven’t written enough for it yet to give an honest opinion, but I feel like I’ve hit the mark on our four girls, at least, for how I interpret them. But you know what, I’m having a difficult time with Owain for my Fire Emblem fic. I think I’m getting his relationships and banter right, I just... I DON’T THINK I’M WRITING HIM ‘DRAMATIC’ ENOUGH. IT’S HARD TO FOLLOW HIS SPEECH PATTERNS, OKAY.

37. Have you ever purposefully bashed a character/ship in a fic?:I can’t remember too well, but I think I did actually bash like, Tenthshipping (not purposefully, just the way it was written) and Morganiteshipping (in the AN) in Enter the Fans and Avatar Special. I really regret doing that, and hate how my narrow-mindedness when it came to ships affected me like that when I first began to write. Also I’ve probably bashed Sird but I DON’T REGRET THAT AT ALL LMAO. As a RWBY and Bu//mbl//eby fan/writer, I’m making sure to never bash Sun or Bl//ac//ksun because the fans and character really don’t deserve that and I like Sun plenty as a character, and some BB shippers can be really rude.

41. If you cross-post your fics on multiple sites, do you have a favorite? Are there certain fics you would only post on certain site?:I post all my fics on FFN, Ao3, and Wattpad. Though Wattpad’s fallen off the map a little. I like Ao3 the best, in terms of it being easy to manage and nice to look at, though I always seem to get more attention on FFN!!

43. Your least popular?:Uuuh am I allowed to look this one up it’s A Night of Diamonds. (I’m still pissed at myself for not coming up with a better name, ugh) Ambershipping isn’t too popular in the spe fandom, so I’m not surprised, and RWBY fics tend to get more attention that spe fics (though my two most popular fics are pokespe hahaha).

47. If someone you know in real life who isn’t involved in fandoms asked to read your work, would you let them? If yes, what would you recommend they read first?:

DEPENDS ON WHO THEY ARE. MY MOM’S ACTUALLY ASKED TO READ MY SAFE HAVEN IS WITH YOU AND I’M GONNA LET HER I JUST NEED TO POST THE BEES REUNION HAHAHAI had my mom watch all of RWBY with me, so I’m actually fine with her reading my stuff. And I’d let a few other friends read my fics, though it depends on how close to me they are. Also, for the record, if any of my irl friends WANTED to find me, I’m pretty sure they could. My username for everything is... very consistent so I’m not hard to find. Also I’d probably recommend Flirting 101 because it’s not essential to have context to enjoy.

#Asks #THANK YOU!#SORRY IT TOOK ME A WHILE THAT AS A LOT OF WRITING #americanjack

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strayraccoon · 7 years

Text

End of Unchanging Days pt.4

part 1 [link] part 2 [link] part 3 [link] part 4 [link]

Last part of this fic. I might write more crossovers in the future. If you’re curious, be sure to try playing Fallen London or Sunless Sea ^^

Tight alleyways of the Fifth City was something you're familiar with. It's a good method of travel when one wishes not to mingle with overzealous fans or annoying personae. Wet cobblestone under your feet, occasional crates and makeshift furniture used by homeless individuals, mixture of ammonia and coppery odor which would render one's nose numb, bloodshot gazes from individuals spending their idle days within maze-like alleyways. Should one walk about carelessly, they'll fall victim to a bucket of waste thrown out from nearby window.

'SHIIIIIT!!!!' Zapp exclaimed a second after a bucketful of human waste thrown onto him.

'Yeeesh…' Leonardo added as he pinched his nose and made some distance between him and the unfortunate man.

'Ewww!' Chain performed the same action with Leonardo, only more liberal with expressing her disgust. 'Now you're double dirty, stupid monkey'

Zed simply inclined his head and said 'Oh, I can fix that quickly' before forming a huge ball of water above his hands and submerged Zapp into it. He then absentmindedly made Zapp roll around inside the water ball before releasing him. The unfortunate man plopped onto wet cobblestone face down. Zed beamed in glee as he explained, 'Once I saw human using water in a box to wash their clothes, interesting contraption indeed. There's even wringer on it too'

Zapp quickly rose and choked Zed angrily, 'You idioooot! I'm not some dirty clothes!'

'Knock it off kiddo' K.K interjected, she didn't relent her gaze the moment Zapp glared at her. It was obvious who won in the staring contest. She looked at you before expertly changing the topic, 'We're close to the Black Horse. At this time he should be inside. How do you want to approach this?'

You looked at Leo putting an effort to separate Zapp and Zed for a second, then replied, 'Quiet, if possible. But, that's pretty much impossible is it?'

'No, Pearce would be in the gambling den at this time. He has a clay man with him too. So direct approach would be suicidal' Chain pondered as she leaned her back against alleyway wall. Yard siren blaring throughout the city. Despite so, she made an effort to remain calm.

'If direct and quiet don't work, we'll just have to make it a blast' Leo said confidently, grinning widely yet there's a hint of nervousness behind his cheerful nature.

Leo's plan included Zapp, Zed, and himself playing decoy at the Black Horse gambling den, mingling with the guests for a while before throwing select insult words at Pearce, deliberately starting a fight inside the gambling den. The fraud writer himself was not a problem, but his escort might. Both Zapp and Zed are confident in taking him on, though the latter worries about the den's security interference. Leo, who was supposed to be a lookout, was accidentally involved in the fistfight. He caught a couple of fist into his face but retaliated using whatever power his unique eye granted him. Several people were instantly stunned or imbalanced. That's when both Zapp and Zed mop the floor with them.

Pearce himself was hiding behind the den's bar, constantly barking order at his clay man. Other patrons of the gambling den simply cheered on the fistfight. Several guardsmen threw themselves at the trio, but sheer number couldn't even the odds. In fact, a couple of supporting shots from a Hawkeye added the trio's odd. There were electrical current running through each shot which added to the absurdity of the fight.

You and Chain sighed at the same time, witnessing the absurd scene. Nevertheless, with everyone's attention was aimed at commotion down in gambling parlor, the two of you managed to reach Pearce's apartment on the upper floors. There were a small number of guards which Chain incapacitated quickly and effectively. In fact, none of them realized it until too late. Chain wasn't keen in having you following her, but an alleyway is far more dangerous compared to a gambling parlor.

'Oh, wow, are you sure I'll fit in your group?'

'That's for Mister Klaus and Starphase to decide. But, there are a lot of us who don't actually fight' Chain answered as she dug her arm into a man's chest, incapacitating him effortlessly.

You entered Pearce's room, it is amusingly similar with yours. Small modest apartment room with papers and books strewn about its wooden floor. Inkwell and fountain pen on similarly modest wooden worktable. The only difference was the waft of cheap perfume and smoke instead of old books. Which is considerably makes sense, since Pearce is living inside a gambling den instead of bookstore. Nevertheless, you weren't expecting to find your unknown rival room to be so modest.

'You looked like you're taken aback, poeta' Chain called you back into reality.

'That name is going to stick, isn't it' you sighed, and continued 'Yes, I expected his room to be more…grandiose? Filled with velvet and Turkish carpet, perhaps. A hookah on the corner of the room. High quality furniture, bed with post and curtain. Cheap musk, maybe, and select alcohols he snitch from the bar downstairs'

'Then this makes this a case of simple jealousy. Not a conspiracy. Pretty boring, isn't it? Chain added, crossing her arms idly. 'Why bedpost though?'

'Uhm…there's a lot of things you can do at a bedpost. ' You answered vaguely, in endeavor not to divulge too much in front of polite company.

'Oh my. You have questionable tastes'

"Sue me. Let's just plant the…hold on' you were about to suggest for Chain to start planting 'evidence' inside Pearce room when you saw a couple of books under his bed. You reached towards it and dusted it. There were trace of golden letters on the front and the side of the hardcover. You skimmed the book for a minute. The content made you grin. 'We probably don't need our own 'evidence''

'Why? What's that book? Is he a revolutionary member after all?'

'No, it's a romance book' you grinned at Chain, and she made a small 'o' with her mouth before she started giggling.

It is a known fact that romance literature is banned in the Fifth City, any possession of such contraband would be enough to send someone to Tomb-Colony. Or at least heavy fine from the Yard with right connection and amount of money. Unfortunately for Darcy Pearce, a constable raid on the gambling den uncovered his contraband possession. As he has neither connection not monetary advantage, he was shipped off to Tomb Colony and his charges against a certain poet was waved off as mere literary jealousy.

In turn, the unfortunate poet received a pardon from the Duchess directly, as well as an invitation to perform in one of her salon. The event of at the night of incident was recreated inside a novel, which involved a Master of Criminal World whisking away the poet and a series of action packed scenes in a magical way. Obviously, the readers enjoyed the added flair from the writer's part and waved it off as a mere story. While in fact it's not in the slightest.

'So there you have it' Steven said in satisfied voice, closing his filer and putting it on nearby desk.

You were sitting on a sofa inside Libra's headquarters main room, serving both as office room, meeting area, and lounge for the member. The floor was a black and white checkered akin to chess board. Huge windows were behind executive director's desk. Various potted plants were placed strategically which enhanced the room's atmosphere. Unlike the Royal Bethlehem which boast luxury, this office room felt like home and more comfortable.

The trio sat beside you, each of them had bandages on various part of their body. The fight from the other night left some wounds on them. Despite so, they were smiling. You remembered Klaus was fussing over the three when they returned with wounds all over their body, especially towards Leo who is not used to fighting. You found it funny for such a composed gentleman to lose his composure due to his subordinate's condition.

K.K and Chain came out of the fight unscathed, with their respective ability not requiring them to confronting their enemies upfront. Chain did snitch one of the books from Pearce collection for 'research purposes'. Steven and Klaus had minor injury which took less time to recover compared to the trio.'

Steven giggled as he lifted your novel, 'Master of Criminal World, is it? You do have amazing imagination'

'Hey, who doesn't want to be whisked away like that?' you replied, grinning. Despite your recent literary success, you decided to stay in the bookstore. The melancholic owner did worry about your sudden disappearance and constables barging in all of sudden, screaming accusation about your allegiance to the revolutionary party. He was relieved when you returned almost unscathed, grossly sobbing on your good suit.

'Oh, my. That would be a dream' K.K added, 'But I already have hubby and children…*sigh*'

The supposedly 'Master of Criminal World' scratched his neck shyly, before declaring, 'Operation success, I suppose. One last thing is presenting our poeta to the Duchess. I'll be escorting you for the salon'

'Hitting the high society, eh? Good luck with that, poeta' Zapp said casually as he leaned his head against the sofa. 'I ain't interested'

'Well, you have none of their refined manner, monkey' Chain muttered under her breath.

'Say that again! She-dog!' Zapp caught her mockery.

'Not again, you two!' Leo snapped, avoiding just in time before Chain landed her heels on Zapp's face once again. Zed dragged you out of the way quickly as Zapp lost his balance and dropped on the sofa where you and Leo had sit seconds before. It would have been a domino of human should the two of you remained there.

'If you need better outfit, I can give some suggestion. Our poeta here does need a new one. Can't go to the Shuttered Palace without proper attire after all' K.K suggested, completely ignoring the youngsters breaking into a fight.

'Ohohoho, I can arrange that with young master's permission' Gilbert suggested as he handed you a cup of warm tea. The aroma was similar to your savior the night you escaped the bookstore.

'Please do, Gilbert'

'Once you're ready, master Poeta, I'll need to measure you' said Gilbert. You can tell from his eyes that he's smiling beneath the bandages. He then proceeded to prepare more tea expertly for everyone in the room.

'I knew it's going to stick' you groaned as every Libra members present had already calling you poeta as a nickname.

'Ahahaha' Steven laughed, definitely not apologetic as he's the one who accidentally nicknamed you. 'Speaking of which, you don't have to worry about our Pearce ever again. We made sure he's not coming back to Fallen London ever again'

All's well that ends well, you thought. Then you caught Klaus looked at your way, you swore you saw a hint of admiration in his gaze. Whatever it was, it was gone in a second. He approached you and once again extended his hand towards you. A similar scene played out, only the word was different and you couldn't be more confident of your answer.

'Welcome to Libra' Klaus said as he shook your hand firmly.

#kekkai sensen #rinn writes #I said might write more #but I got plots in my head already #if I know this going to happen I'd choose better name for Pearce damn it #he's going to be Dio #I wanted this to be neutral but apparently turned to be Klaus-centric aaaaaaa #bear man why

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