#maybe i could take a picture of a sky doodle in one of my notebooks and go off that? hmm | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

luvnami · 4 years ago

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - happy birthday you sexy beast. inspired by that one chapter in horimiya where sengoku confesses to remi lol

𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 - @sugawaaras @dearkodzuken

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 - fluff/angst

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - apocalypse au, death

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 1445

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 - matsukawa issei x reader

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 - the day on which the world is to end just happens to be matsukawa’s birthday

7.01am.

The sun burns through the morning mist, though the numbers in the sky above you do not disappear. 12 hours and 59 minutes left until the end of the world.

Despite this impending catastrophe, the world itself does not seem grieved. You still walk amongst the hundreds of students that head to school, employees board crowded buses as they are ferried to work, and housewives and husbands still vacuum the floor while a variety show plays in the background.

You would think that there would be something special about death, about the end.

Matsukawa Issei catches up to you. “Hey,” he greets, and nudges you in the side with his arm.

“Happy birthday,” you return. “Isn’t it weird to have your birthday before we all die?”

“Don’t think about it so depressingly,” he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s still a normal day.”

What defines normality? Everyone dies at some point. Shouldn’t it be a momentous occasion, however, that the entirety of humanity will be wiped out tonight? Some will be sleeping, some will be awake, watching the earth consumed by the great cosmos beyond.

You shelf the thoughts for another time. A minute, an hour later.

School goes by as normal. Lessons are conducted, albeit with the nagging feeling of this being the last class that one might teach or attend. You wonder if half the students are even paying attention. Your open notebook is filled with scribbles and doodles.

By the time lunch break rolls around, the pages are torn out and crumpled at the bottom of your bag. Matsukawa and Hanamaki come over to your table with bento boxes in hand.

“Octopus sausages still? What are you, 5?” you tease Hanamaki, who responds with a kick at your shin, leaving you to howl in pain.

“Not like you’re any better,” Matsukawa remarks at your store-bought onigiri and packet milk.

The three of you sit and eat, exchanging jokes and comments on the previous lessons. You’re surprised that Oikawa and Iwaizumi haven’t appeared from their classes just yet. Perhaps they’re still caught up with the brunette’s fangirls — that’s normal.

“Is there any place you want to head to, birthday boy?” Hanamaki asks.

Matsukawa swallows his mouthful of food before replying. “Not particularly.”

“Are you going to go for volleyball training?”

“Yeah, of course. Iwaizumi would kill me if I skipped, even if we can’t play for nationals now,” he laughs.

“I’ll meet you afterwards, then?” you say.

Matsukawa looks at you, his gaze softening. “Yeah.”

The bell rings. You return to class, tossing your empty milk packet and onigiri wrapper into the trash.

It’s evening by the time volleyball training ends. You wait for Matsukawa by the school gate. The weather is still a little chilly, and you shove your hands deeper into the pockets of your jacket.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Matsukawa’s low voice startles you, before he lets out an amused chuckle at your shocked face.

“Didn’t have to scare me like that,” you mutter.

He smiles and takes your hand in his. You let him pull your hand out of your jacket, before pushing your connected ones into his own pocket.

Dinner is fast, slurped ramen combined with antics from their last training session makes you choke on your hot tea a few times. Matsukawa almost pukes his food from laughing too hard. By the time you’re done, your belly is full and your cheeks ache from smiling so much.

The walk home is much quieter.

“Did you say bye to everyone?” you question.

“Yeah. Oikawa was crying like a baby,” Matsukawa says.

“I would’ve guessed that much.”

You reach out for his hand. He lets you take it, enveloping you in his warmth.

7.25pm. Two hours and thirty five minutes until the end of the world.

It’s already 8pm when you rush over to Matsukawa’s house, fresh out of the shower with a bundle of photo albums and games to spend the time. He pulls you into his arms when you step through the door.

He smells fresh, not like the horrible 3-in-1 soap that he uses when he’s rushed. You relax against his soft hoodie, letting him press you to his chest and kiss your forehead tenderly. It’s a minute worth of time that you wouldn’t ever give up.

Matsukawa leads you into his bedroom, where you open up scattered albums to revive forgotten memories. There are photos of you when you were a baby, chubby and waving fists around you. You giggle at a picture of toddler Matsukawa only in a diaper, and he cackles at you, aged five, dressed in the ugliest tutu he’s ever seen. There’s a photo of you both on your first date, awfully awkward, and another of Matsukawa trying to balance a pen on his nose.

Afterwards, you go through a few games of Stress and snack away, guessing what the other third years are doing right now.

Matsukawa lays on your thighs as you play with his hair, his eyes closed. The time is currently 9.50pm. Ten minutes left until the end of the world.

“Hey, Issei?”

He responds with a drawn out hum.

“Happy birthday.” “Why are you wishing me that again? Weirdo,” he jokes.

“You didn’t even get a birthday cake or something this year. No presents, no party, nothing at all. Don’t you feel a little sad about it?”

“It would all be gone the same day if anyone gave me something. That sounds like a waste of money.”

“Weirdo,” you tease back, and he opens his eyes just to roll them.

“Hey, Issei.”

“Yeah?”

“What would you do the day before you die?”

At this, he laughs and you can’t help but crack a smile as well. He stares off into the corner of his room.

“Well… I would celebrate my birthday. I would go to school and volleyball training as usual, and then spend the rest of the night with you.”

“Aw, how romantic.”

“What would you do?”

“I’d eat all the candy in the world.”

Matsukawa glares at you. “And not spend time with me?”

“I’ll share the candy with you.”

“That’d just give us stomach aches. I don’t want to die while shitting my guts out, you know.”

The room falls silent. Matsukawa glances at his clock on the wall, and the second hand ticks by, counting down to the very moment of his death. It’s strange, that he isn’t scared. What happens after death, why he’s never questioned the existence of the numbers in the sky, Matsukawa doesn’t really care.

He laces his fingers with yours. 9.57pm. Three more minutes.

You grip his hand tightly.

“What do you think will happen when it reaches 10pm? Will the earth blow up? Will we all just drop dead?” you whisper.

“I hope we turn into zombies. I’ll stagger over to Hanamaki’s place to freak him out and then eat his brains.”

“Ew, that’s so nasty, Issei. Even if I was a zombie, I wouldn’t eat any brains.”

“Not even mine?”

“Do zombies have brains?”

Matsukawa smiles fondly at you. He sits up and interlocks his arm with yours, before laying his head on your shoulder. The curls of his hair tickles your cheek.

9.58pm.

“What kind of sweets would you eat before you die?” Matsukawa asks.

“Strawberry shortcake. Cheesecake. Tiramisu. Creme Brulee. Macaron.”

“That’s a lot.”

“Well, it would be my last time eating them.”

“Should we have gotten sweets today, then? From that bakery near school, I heard they were having a sale today.”

“Maybe. But it’s too late to regret that now.”

9.59pm.

You close your eyes, tilting your head back so it rests against the wall. Your heart jumps in your chest and you will it to slow down, to fall behind the flow of time. As if it could do that.

Matsukawa readjusts your hands so that your fingers are intertwined. He’s silent, stroking your knuckles with his free hand.

Each second passes like a grain of sand falling through an hourglass’ waist, landing on an uncountable bed of other seconds that have passed. There’s thirty left, now twenty nine, now twenty eight. It’s an undeniable fact that you’ll be unable to turn time back.

“Issei,” you whisper so softly, Matsukawa has to strain to hear you.

You lean down, tilting your chin to press your lips against his. His eyes flutter shut. His lips are chapped, rough against your soft ones as you kiss.

Fifteen, fourteen, thirteen.

You don’t separate.

Eight, seven, six.

Matsukawa pulls away briefly. “I love you,” he breathes.

Four, three, two.

“I love you too.”

Zero.

#matsukawa issei #matsukawa issei x reader #matsukawa issei angst #matsukawa issei fluff #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa fluff #matsukawa angst #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #hq fluff #hq x reader #hq angst #hqradiostation

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adam-memeleri · 4 years ago

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Rainbow

Rosie’s always liked rainbows. Liked the beauty, the wonder, the ethereal, indescribable nature of the array of colours painted on the sky and clouds. She’s always liked the possibilities held within those colours, always liked what they meant, always liked the way the world seems to stand still when you find one after a storm, frozen for something so magical.

Hope reminds Rosie of rainbows.

okay so i actually really like this one and i think it shows. also thank you @bubblelaureno for proofing and fixing my feeble attempt at past tense you are so very lovely

tagging - @bubblelaureno @lookingforsomethingcuzimbored

if you wanna be tagged

Masterlists shameless self promotion lmao

T Rating (its mostly fluff, but there's sick if youre not cool with that)

Hope x MC (Rosie) or rope if youre chichi

~7k words this took an alarming amount of time to finally fucking finish, so take it for what it is

Like the sweater that blocked Rosie’s view of a lecture one morning, red. Like the tapping nails she couldn’t stop watching, red. Like the sensation of being mesmerized, hypnotized more deeply than when watching the sun slowly creep higher above the horizon, red.

Her eyes roved over the carefully organised materials - pens, notebook, laptop - all set in a specific place. She watched the nails halt their tapping, scribbling out notes in what she could only assume was perfect handwriting. She couldn’t imagine this girl doing anything less than perfect, less than meticulously planned, less than plain stunning.

Although her face was obscured, Rosie could picture the expression painted across it. Could picture a focus that could knock you down and heal your bruises all at once. And it intrigued her, left her wanting to see it for herself, and she angled her head to glimpse as much as she could.

The red sweater rose abruptly, just as Rosie was about to peek, and Rosie knew she should as well, knew that the drone of the professor had disappeared and she had another lecture not too soon, but she couldn’t manage it. Her curiosity had gotten the better of her, her stupid desire to see if she was right about this girl.

She turned, her eyes landing on Rosie’s, and Rosie could have sworn her heart stopped. She was surprised more than anything, to find eyes boring into her own so fiercely, her eyebrows knitted together in momentary confusion. Before she whisked herself away, with a bag thrown over her shoulder and Rosie left behind, simply gawking after her.

After all coherent thought had left her mind, Rosie jumped to her feet and scrambled to collect her belongings, haphazardly she shoved them in her own bag and scooped them in her arms before darting out the room. She found that red sweater as it exited the building, nearly lost in the sea of students.

Elbowing her way through the crowd, Rosie managed to nearly catch up, stumbling a little ways behind as she called out, “Hey, wait up!”

The girl’s eyes searched over her shoulder before she slowed, peering over at Rosie curiously as she fell into step beside her.

“Sorry, I, uh…” Rosie fumbled over her words, gesturing awkwardly as she sought to clear the air, a blush staining her face. “I didn’t - That wasn’t - I wasn’t staring.”

The girl side-eyed Rosie, lips quirked in a tiny bemused smile at her feeble attempt. Her fingers toyed with a ring, spinning it around one finger in a steady rhythm as her free hand held the strap of her bag.

“Really! I wasn’t!” Rosie insisted uselessly.

Her grin grew as she hummed teasingly, “Mmhmm.”

“Look, just -” Rosie’s shoulders sank in a sigh, shaking her head in exasperation, but with a smile of her own. “I’m Rosie.” She tried, her voice having steadied.

The girl smiled invitingly, in the type of way that drew Rosie in, left her wanting more as dazzling eyes crinkled enticingly. “Hope,” her sweet voice rang, with all the power of a declaration but none of the demand.

Rosie nodded mutely, her braids shifting with each shake of her head. She opened her mouth to say smoothing, but, at a loss, she clamped her jaw shut.

Hope didn’t seem to mind, her eyes adjusting forward as they walked side by side, the gap between them like a canyon to Rosie. She swallowed, fixing the book under her arm, “So, uh, have you always been in that class?”

“Yes,” Hope nodded coolly, “Someone stole my usual seat today, though.”

“That… That sucks.” Rosie’s lips purse to the side as she nods along.

“Actually,” Hope’s voice drawled as she peered up at Rosie out of the corner of her eye. “I seem to recall there was an open seat beside you.”

“Oh! Yeah, I keep it open for a special someone,” Rosie’s lips quirked in a crooked grin, her typical playfulness finding its way back to her.

“And who would that be?”

Bolstered by Hope’s own teasing, she winked, her cheeks dimpled from her smile. “I’m hoping I’ll find out soon enough.”

“Maybe you will.” The pair fell into a companionable silence as they walked, neither a word exchanged or a beat of awkwardness filling the space. Rosie’s eyes roved distractedly, sneaking glances at Hope every chance she got and darting away when she got caught.

And every time Hope smiled to herself, and every time Rosie’s cheeks heated just a little more. It was quickly becoming a game, to see how long it took for Rosie to get caught, and with each glance she found herself hoping they'd continue the game on a later date.

Hope paused in her tracks suddenly, turning to face Rosie more fully as she adjusted her bag on her shoulder. “This is my stop,” she gestured to the lecture hall they were standing outside of, students filing inside. “It was nice to meet you, Rosie,” she grinned, stretching her hand out in offering.

Rosie’s own eagerly clasped it, shaking the offered hand perhaps too forcefully. “You too!” She promptly dropped Hope’s hand, a flush on the back of her neck as she shifted from foot to foot, gaze dropping to stare at the floor. “Um, see you next week?” she tried, glancing up from beneath her lashes.

“As long as you keep my seat available,” Hope teased easily, as if this was a common occurrence in her daily life. And Rosie supposed it may be, that maybe there’s always someone following her around with wide eyes like a lost puppy.

In response, Rosie nodded vehemently, mouth curved in a barely suppressed grin as Hope laughed lightly, already turning away. She stalked inside, head held high and shoulders thrown back with a confidence that can’t help but catch your eye and one that Rosie couldn’t tear her gaze away from.

Like the sweater that disappeared into the hall, red. Like the heart that berated Rosie’s ribcage, red. Like the lips pulled into an impossibly wide smile, as much as she fought it, red.

Orange

Like the socks that covered kicking feet, orange. Like the setting sun outside, the watercolour of clouds, orange. Like the pen that scrawled on paper, jotting down notes and doodling when the words wouldn’t come, orange.

“Pop quiz!” Hope announced, flourishing a card and adjusting upright. Open textbooks, loose papers, a discarded laptop, and a dozen markers litter the bedspread around her.

Rosie groaned, faceplanting into her notes and sending a multitude of colourful pens scattering. “You’re incorrigible!” she whined into the paper, her hand that had been previously writing limp by the notebook.

“You asked to study! I’m studying!” Hope defended with a slight laugh, motioning with the brightly coloured flashcards in her hands.

Rosie’s head flopped to the side, cheek pressed into still-damp orange inked scribbles. “Clearly by study I meant halfarse rereading notes so we had an excuse to hang out.”

Hope paused for a beat, scrutinising Rosie from across the bed. “You needed an excuse to hang out with me?”

“Would you have agreed otherwise?”

“No,” she slowly answered. “But that’s just because I needed to study.”

“There is not a doubt in my mind that you were the most extreme teacher’s pet,” Rosie teased, pushing upright just to slump backwards, elbows positioned to support her weight. “I can picture it now, little Hope avoiding recess to do menial tasks.”

With a wistful sigh, Hope abandoned her flashcards, leaning back herself. “Oh, those were the good ol’ days.”

“Nerd.”

Hope clicked her tongue, fond exasperation etched in her face and soaked into her posture. “Well,” she drawled, climbing off the bed and popping to her feet. “Since we’re already taking an impromptu break, I’ll be right back.”

She disappeared out the door, leaving it wide open and lightly swinging on its hinges. A heavy sigh melts Rosie’s muscles as she stretched out on the bed in her absence, legs nudging the multitude of study supplies surrounding her.

She glanced about, eyes bouncing around curiously at the array of objects held in Hope’s bedroom. From the vanity, to the assortment of bottles and items splayed atop the dresser, to the meticulously organized bookshelf of textbooks and fiction, it was as if Rosie was getting a glimpse into the girl.

And somehow she felt there was more to uncover than ever before. From the tattered jacket full of memories draped over a chair, to the photo frames littering every available surface, to the picture book given prime shelf space, there’s so much life in the room that she’d never even heard about.

Hope stepped back into the room before her imagination could run truly wild, juggling a water bottle dotted in flower stickers and a few oranges. She dumps them all on the bed, tossing one of the small oranges to Rosie.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, catching it lightly.

“Mmhmm,” Hope hummed out of reflex as she jumped up to the bed, kicking her legs over the edge and toying with the lid of her water bottle. “You know, I don’t get why you of all people are a business major,” she commented, glancing up as she takes a drink.

Rosie chuckled, picking at the stubborn peel and pulling off chunks. “What makes you say that?”

“You just seem… not… businesslike? I don’t know,” she groaned, dipping her head to hide her face as Rosie laughed beside her.

“I think I’m plenty businesslike.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s cheeto dust on the edge of your notes.”

“Ah-ah-ah,” Rosie waggled her index finger, “Cheetos are made by a business, therefore, they are businesslike.”

Hope’s mouth curved in a grin, lips pressed together to try and stop it’s spread. “You should be an attorney instead.”

“Nah, it just wouldn’t be fair to the other lawyers,” Rosie’s tone was casual as she popped an orange slice in her mouth, speaking through it. “Like a pro athlete playing with a kiddie team.”

Hope snorted, her hand clapped up to her mouth as she fought a loud laugh. “You'd be a force to be reckoned with in a courtroom, I’m sure.”

“I’m telling you, I’d be unstoppable. Just sue everyone else before they can sue me!”

“I don’t think that’s how that works.”

“Well, you’re not a lawyer, are you?”

Hope’s hands raised placatingly, but the smile on her face was evident of her amusement. “Alright, alright you win.”

“What’s my prize?”

Hope’s face scrunched up as she considered, one nail rising to tap at her chin. “What do you want?” she finally responded.

“To not study.”

“Alright, I get it.” She closed the textbook she had been reading from and tossed it onto a nearby desk chair, sitting straight and peering about for a distraction. “You want to watch something instead?”

“Yes! No books! No words! No unreadable handwriting!” Rosie cheered, shoving her own notebooks and laptop across the bedspread in a dramatic show.

“That’s your handwriting that you can’t read.”

“Exactly!” her hands waved, eyes wild before her palms slapped down onto the duvet, “Do you see how mad this has driven me?”

Hope rolled her eyes, tossing a pale orange blanket over Rosie to quiet her, “Every day you get more over the top.”

Snickering, Rosie pulled the blanket off her head and scooted backwards until she hit the headboard. “Stick around and maybe you’ll find my limit.”

“Trust me, I don’t plan on going anywhere,” Hope joined her on the bed, tugging her laptop to rest before them. “Now here, since you’re sticking around too, let’s watch something.”

She started scrolling through a streaming service, clicking on random descriptions but never staying long enough for Rosie to catch up. She moved fast, but with more purpose than anyone Rosie had ever met. Every sharp action was backed by a precise thought, every decisive selection marked by careful consideration.

She finally clicked on some random sitcom, beginning to settle against the headrest and Rosie’s side. The blanket only exacerbated the heat between them, and Rosie found herself spending more time attempting glimpses of Rosie than she spent watching the show.

Like the scattered peels and smudged ink of abandoned pens, orange. Like the blanket draped over their laps, orange. Like the sensation of sunlight blasting away all your worries, orange.

Yellow

Like the sunshine on Hope’s skin as they laughed in the park, hours disappearing under the sun, yellow. Like the water bottles filled with too-sweet lemonade, yellow. Like the checkered blanket they lay on, sprawled across it and speaking softly beneath the sky, yellow.

“Ooh, look at that one!” Hope pointed at the sky, index finger outstretched toward a cloud floating in the distance. It was filled with them, the white blending with pale blue as they floated above the world, unbothered by the affairs of the ground.

Rosie’s eyes scanned futilely, following Hope’s finger to the expansive sky, “Where?”

“There!”

“Hope,” Rosie laughed, a lightness in her heart, “there’s like a hundred clouds, I need specifics.”

With a sigh, Hope’s hand wrapped around Rosie’s, their fingers tangled together as she gestured above and to the left. She angled Rosie’s finger, slipping closer on the picnic blanket to direct her line of sight. “That one,” her voice was quieter as she squeezed the hand in hers.

The breath left Rosie’s lungs at their proximity, at the gentleness always present in Hope’s voice, but especially so now. She tore her gaze from the warmth in Hope’s cheeks to search the sky, finally finding the shaped cloud. “A heart?”

“Mmhmm,” Hope hummed, squeezing her hand once more.

“Cute.”

“I know, right?” Hope turned briefly, her face still set in a bright grin before she was back to staring at the sky and all it held within it.

But Rosie wasn’t paying attention to the sky anymore, she hadn’t been for a while. Her eyes were glued to the smile on Hope’s face, the way her eyes flitted from cloud to cloud, the way her bottom lip slipped between her teeth, the way she refused to release Rosie’s hand.

“Do you come here often?” she supplied to fill the silence, breaking a tension only she may have felt.

Hope’s gaze flicked back to her, sparkled with amusement.“Is that a line?”

“Just making conversation.”

Hope chuckled beneath her breath, turning back to the puffs in the painted sky. “Not really. Used to when I was younger, but you know… Classes, work, responsibilities… They don’t really leave time for an afternoon of watching clouds float past.”

“Do you wish you could do this more?”

“Always.”

“Then I’m glad I could help, even just a little,” Rosie grinned, easy and relaxed as she nudged Hope’s shoulder with her own.

“Me too.”

Rosie settled back, letting the blues and whites and greys and yellows of the day fill her eyesight, a collision of pastel colours before her dark eyes. Occasionally, Hope’s hand would brush her own, or her elbow would nudge Rosie as she shifted, and every time it was like a shot of sunshine right into her veins, stronger than pure adrenaline.

“It’s getting kind of dark,” Hope mumbled after a long stretch of silence, a quiet only disrupted by the occasional murmur.

Rosie’s lashes had fluttered shut, the soft breeze and noise of the park enough to lose herself in. “The forecast said no rain,” she answered, followed by a groan as she stretched her limbs on the checkered blanket.

“You sure?”

Rosie shrugged, “That’s what the weather girl said.”

“Which weather girl?”

“That annoying one, Blaire or something.”

“You trust the annoying weather girl?”

“I trust science,” Rosie retorted. “Also that Swedish news anchor. He trusts her, and I trust him. He’s very trustworthy, I’ll have you know,” she elbowed Hope to accentuate her point.

Hope sighed, reluctantly mumbling out an agreement, “Alright.”

Everything stilled once more, their little corner of the park unbothered by the rest of the whirring world. Rosie’s arm rose to cover her face and block out the lessening sunlight, the day seeming to have spent both her energy and the available sunlight.

A drop pinged Rosie’s forearm as it lay overtop her face, a prick on her skin. Then another. And another. Until raindrops began to soak her skin, her clothes, the blanket that was beneath her and Hope.

“Shit!” Rosie sprung to her feet blindly, scrambling as the onslaught of water kept coming, and coming.

Hope was in a struggle to get to her feet as well, grabbing wildly at discarded water bottles, phones, a jacket - whatever lay in her reach. “Get the stuff! Get the stuff!”

“I am, I am!” Rosie grabbed the checkered blanket, shoved it into the backpack she had brought along as Hope piled up the little containers of snacks.

Digging in her own bag, Hope blinked up at Rosie in a brief panic, “Hurry!”

“Would you -?” Rosie swatted at her with the edge of the blanket, her words dying as she dissolved into laughter.

“Rosie!” she chided, waving away the swat as she finally found what she was looking for. She stood straight, shrugging her bag over her shoulder and fiddling with the object she pulled from it.

“C’mon!” the taller woman laughed, “This is funny! We get one afternoon to ourselves and it literally rains on our parade!” she gestured around, spinning to encompass the whole park in the motion, every drop of rain spilling down on it. “That’s funny!”

Hope’s lips pressed together in a smile as she stepped forward, opening an umbrella and bringing it up to cover their heads. The bright yellow fabric echoed with each falling drop, but it was enough to prevent their soaked clothing from worsening.

“A little late for that,” Rosie chuckled from within her chest, heaving her hefty bag up her shoulder.

“Better late than never.” Hope paused, pursing her lips to the side as her free hand rose, brushing off a piece of wet grass from Rosie’s chest. Her touch lingered, the heel of her hand resting lightly.

“Hmm?” Rosie questioned wordlessly.

Hope’s fingers tightened in the front of her shirt, determination sparking in her eyes. “You want to go out sometime? For coffee, or lunch, or dinner?”

“I thought we already did that?” Rosie teased with a small smile.

“We do… But I was thinking it’d be a little different this time.” Hope’s eyes shimmered as they met Rosie’s from beneath heavy lashes, rain still shining like diamonds on them, on every part of her face.

Rosie smiled at the suggestive tone of the words, her expression so wide and bright, brighter than the umbrella held over their heads. “That sounds nice,” she feigned a casualty that wasn’t there, the smile lines around her mouth a dead giveaway.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, wet hair framing her face.

Hope’s face broke out in a smile to match Rosie’s, unrestrained under the transparent yellow umbrella over their heads. “Come on, then,” her hand slipped into the other girl’s, and she tugged Rosie towards a nearby awning, hands swinging lightly between them.

Like the shirt plastered to Rosie’s skin, soaked and damp, yellow. Like the umbrella that sheltered them from the storm, a brilliant, shining safety net, yellow. Like the happiness in her chest, bubbling and pounding inside her, yellow.

Green

Like the smile on Hope’s lips, as lively as a budding flower, green. Like the backdrop behind her, the painted walls and masses of house plants, green. Like the nausea that swirled in Rosie’s gut, foul and unsettling, green.

She lurched forward, stumbling to her feet before she darted across the flat towards the bathroom, slamming the door shut just as she collapsed to her knees. She retched, fingers gripping the edge of the toilet as bile stung at her throat.

With a moan, she slumped against the seat, eyes fluttered shut as a pounding in her head drowned out most of the flat. The brief ordeal weighed down her limbs, left her exhausted and drained on the bathroom floor.

“Hey, Rosie?” broke through her haze, a gentle question from the other side of the door.

She sighed, groaning out a “Hmm?”

“You okay in there?”

“Just peachy,” she chuckled weakly.

There was a brief pause before Hope’s voice returned, hesitant but laced with a caring that warmed Rosie’s heart, cleared her head momentarily. “I’m going to come in,” she announced, the knob twisting.

Rosie groaned once more in response, slumped against the toilet with her hair spilled over her shoulder in a messy flow. Her shirt now hung off her body awkwardly, a thin sweat having begun to coat her skin.

A cautious hand found her shoulder, squeezing lightly as Hope settled beside her, careful not to jostle her. “Are you sick?” her fingers delicately brushed over Rosie’s face as she spoke, tucking a stray braid behind her ear, her thumb running lightly over her cheek.

“No, I’m healthy as a horse, that’s why I’m voluntarily sitting with my face in the toilet,” Rosie bit back, more heat in the tone than ever before.

Hope huffed, her hand retracting from Rosie’s face and the taller woman immediately regretting the harshness of her previous words. “Quit with that for a second, would you?”

“Sorry,” she mumbled, turning to press her cheek in the crook of her elbow.

“It’s okay, just…” a sigh drooped Hope’s shoulders as she softly pressed the back of her hand to Rosie’s forehead. “What happened? Did you eat something bad? Were you sick earlier?” Her hand brushed over Rosie’s face repeatedly until she was swatted away.

“I don’t know,” Rosie brushed her off, pushing upright and slumping forward. “I was fine, I swear.”

“Do you need anything?” the smaller of the two continued to fuss, eyes searching for a visible cause of the crease between Rosie’s brows. “Oh - I’ll get water, I’ll go -” She awkwardly jumped up, bouncing back and forth on her feet in uncertainty for the girl on the floor before darting out the door.

She returned a few moments later, dropping back to the tile floor with a bottle of water and damp washcloth in her hands. “Rinse,” she instructed gently, pressing the bottle into Rosie’s grasp.

And she did as told, taking a swig and swishing it around her mouth before she spat into the toilet bowl. She repeated it a few more times before she scooted away, her thigh brushing Hope’s as her head dropped to Hope’s shoulder.

With her palm softly tracing Rosie’s spine, Hope didn’t dare move for a long moment. “You okay there?” she whispered, exhale brushing along Rosie’s forehead.

“Except for the spinning…” her head rolled in a tiny circle gesture, “everything, yes.”

“Can you stand?” Hope shifted onto her knees, still supporting Rosie’s weight carefully.

“I vomited, I didn’t break a leg.”

“What did I say about the sarcasm?” she sighed, “I’m just trying to help.”

“I know,” a groan fell from Rosie’s mouth, from deep in her throat as she slumped forward, head landing in her hands. “And I’m being an arse. Yes, I can stand.” She finally opened her eyes, looking up at Hope with a strained gaze.

Hope stood fully, offering her hands with a wiggle of her fingers, “Come on, then,” she urged.

Rosie moaned again, but placed her palms on Hope’s all the same. She let herself be gently tugged to her feet and led back into the living room of Hope’s flat, let herself be pushed into sitting back down and laying back, her eyelids fluttering shut.

Hope’s palm on her shoulder was a steady weight, a warmth soaking through to her skin. “Stay put,” and all too soon that weight disappeared as Hope stepped away from the sofa.

“Can I just go home?” Rosie asked, knowing full well she would never be granted permission to leave when she could barely keep her eyes open.

“No, you live alone,” Hope called over her shoulder, striding in the direction of the kitchen. “If you leave I can’t take care of you.”

“I’m not a baby.”

“You’re right. Babies don’t complain as much.”

“Are you saying you’d trade me for a baby?”

“Oh, never. You don’t have snot running down your face at the very least,” her voice echoed from the kitchen, familiar and playful in Rosie’s ears. “...If I come in there and there’s snot -!”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“Rosie!” Hope’s chiding voice rang from the kitchen, alongside a loud, panicked clatter, which only served to provide Rosie with a brief laughing fit.

“I’d never,” her laughter died, replaced by an amused smile grounded in the comfort of the situation. “I think you’d break my nose before I got the chance.”

“Don’t even think about it and you’ll never have to find out.”

“Mmm,” Rosie hummed in acknowledgment, sinking further into the cushions of the sofa as Hope’s pleasant voice occasionally called out to her, alongside clatters and thuds.

Her lashes flickered open, blinking to clear the fleeting sleep from them as Hope stood over her, hands on her hips. “I was trying to make you soup, but you’re going right to bed.”

“I don’t live here,” she murmured without a thought, the imposing woman above her having stripped her of them.

“I know. Now, up.”

Hope pulled her to her feet again, let Rosie lean her bodyweight against her in her sick and sleepy haze as she was guided to Hope’s bedroom and directed to the bed. Hope yanked back the neatly made duvet, allowing Rosie to slip beneath it.

The bed dipped as Hope joined her on the edge, tracing her nail over her scalp, the hinge of her jaw, the length of her neck. Over, and over again, until the sleep that weighed Rosie down stole her again, until she could only manage a mumbled, “Thank you.”

Like the soft explosion of colour on her shut eyelids, flowing in whatever direction the light is pulled in, green. Like the doting nails as they ghosted along her skin, sweet and full of love, green. Like the peace now swirling in her once foul gut, green.

Blue

Like the rain falling from the dark clouds outside, blue. Like the melancholy that permeated the air as Rosie opened the door, blue. Like the tears in the corners of Hope’s eyes as she fought against the pressure behind them, blue.

Hope shouldered her way into the flat and into the living room, dropping herself onto the sofa before she sucked in a deep breath. “You can’t move,” her voice cracked as it escaped from her, each syllable heavy with sorrow.

Crossing the room, Rosie collapsed beside her, gaze stuck to her hands as she felt Hope’s bored into the side of her face. “Why not?” she mumbled beneath her breath, one nail picking the woven bracelet resting on her wrist.

“‘Cause I’ll miss you.”

She sighed heavily, twitching beneath Hope’s piercing eyes. “I’ll miss you too, but I kinda have to,” she shrugged, everything feeling useless in the moment. Everything had felt useless since that morning, since she had first told Hope and they had first begun this odd dance.

“It’s not the same.”

“Sure it is.”

“No, no it’s not,” Hope insisted, a spark in her voice as her own hands fidgeted wildly, unease seeping in every corner of the flat. “You’ll - You’ll be doing your thing, without me there, and I’ll be doing my thing without you here, and we’ll be in our little worlds and won’t - won’t realise until it’s too late and we… you know.” She fell off at the end, her bottom lip slipping between her teeth to worry it.

“Hope,” Rosie sighed, a hand dragging down her face, “We’re not gonna break up.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“How? How can you possibly know what’ll happen if you leave?” Hope’s features crumpled, deep creases marking worry lines.

“Hope…”

“Rosie, look at me.” She took Rosie’s hands, thumbs nervously circling her knuckles as her eyes poured into the dark irises across from her. “I know you, and I know me. I know I’m not good at being apart, and I know you get caught up in the moment. I adore that about you, I really do, but it’s also the most annoying thing imaginable.”

“Wha - Hey!” A surprised laugh bubbled out of Rosie, a bright smile gracing her features for the first time in the night.

“See?” A small smile illuminated Hope’s own expression, “Now you can’t go ‘cause you have to stay to get back at me.” The smile dissipated, replaced by a tight grip on Rosie’s hands. “Please don’t go.”

“I have to. Seriously,” Rosie squeezed back. “My mum… she needs me back home right now.”

Hope sagged, disheartened, letting her forehead bump into Rosie’s shoulder. “You’re too stubborn.”

Rosie snorted, “Says you. You showed up at my door at three in the morning.” Her arm wrapped around Hope without a thought, unconsciously urging her closer.

“I’m not stubborn, I’m romantic.”

“Yeah?” a chuckle vibrated throughout Rosie’s chest, “Then romance me.”

Hope visibly brightened, turning her head to smile into Rosie’s neck. “I’ll buy you roses tomorrow. Roses for my Rose,” she giggled radiantly.

“Cute,” Rosie hummed, her palm circling along her partner’s back.

“I thought so,” she preened.

Rosie inhaled deeply, rolling her neck to crack it before she fell backward suddenly. She held out her hands, making a grabbing motion at a slightly confused Hope. “C’mere,” waved relentlessly, until Hope gave in with a grin.

She shuffled forward, collapsing atop Rosie with a contented sigh, her head on the taller woman’s chest, right above her softly beating heart. She dragged her fingers up and down Rosie’s ribs, every breath of Hope’s a whisper along her skin.

“I didn’t think you ever wanted to leave London anyhow?” she exhaled after they settled, inquiring with nudge to Rosie’s chin.

“I didn’t. Not for forever, at least.”

“So you’ll come back to me?”

Rosie stalled, avoiding eye contact as she stared up at the ceiling. “...At some point.”

A frown dipped Hope’s lips almost instantaneously, “I don’t like the sound of that. That sounds like - like…” she struggled for words, her features pinched. “Like a goodbye with extra steps.”

“Nope,” Rosie’s head shook adamantly, finally meeting Hope’s gaze with a resolve in her own. “We’re not saying goodbye, I promise you that.”

That quieted Hope, her lashes fluttered shut as her hand on Rosie’s abdomen stilled. The flat went still as well, undisturbed in the late hour as light, nimble fingers traced a circle around her hip.

“What if I went with you?” Hope’s voice cracked the silence in half, shattering it like glass and simultaneously freezing it deeper into her bones.

There was no response, and she glanced up to find Rosie gawking, blinking upwards in surprise. Her jaw hung open, mouth working to form words that won’t come, no matter how hard she may try. Finally, her voice squeaked out, breathless with her disbelief, “You’d… move cities… for me?”

“Yes,” Hope answered in a heartbeat, not a second of hesitation.

“Why?”

“You know why.”

At that Rosie exploded back to life, her crooked grin lifting her lips. “Nuh-uh, you gotta say it,” she teased, her eyes burning with excitement.

“You’re the worst, you know that?” Hope laughed, fond exasperation filling her as she shook her head.

“Say it,” Rosie urged, pestering Hope with pokes to her sides. “Say it, say it, say it.”

“The worst!” A full laugh spilled from her lips, and Rosie pressed for more and more of it, the sound addictive to her. Hope freed herself from Rosie’s grasp, from her playful jabs, and kneeled above her, taking her face in her hands.

Hope’s thumbs brushed over her cheekbones, caress delicate and soothing. “I love you and don’t want to be without you, okay?” she whispered into the space between them, a clash of brilliant eyes alighting the gap like metal sparking.

“I love you too,” she murmured back, rising to peck Hope on the nose before she settled back down. “But you don’t have to move.”

“But I want to.”

“Hope…”

“Rosie…”

Rosie shook her head, incredulous at the persistence staring her down. “You’re going to change your mind in the morning,” she warned carefully.

“I won’t.”

“And how could you know that? How could you possibly know that?” Rosie teased, repeating Hope’s previous words.

“How many times do I have to tell you I love you for you to get it?”

“I won’t complain if you say it a few more times,” Rosie joked, languidly relaxed as she danced her fingers along Hope’s skin wherever she could reach, noting the twist in the dance between them. It was as if they stuck the landing, poised and graceful, rather than on their arse like they had been earlier in the day.

“So it’s settled, then?” Hope livened, “I’m coming with you?”

Mumbling under her breath, Rosie rolled her eyes, “Incorrigible…”

The shorter woman stretched out, her body overlapping with Rosie’s as she buried herself in her side. “I’m coming whether you agree or not, you can just make this easier for the both of us.”

“Fine,” Rosie grumbled. “If you really, truly, absolutely want to move to Margate with me, I don’t think I can do much to stop you.”

“Damn right you can’t.”

Like the cushions their bodies have melted into together, blue. Like the rain streaked down window panes right outside, blue. Like the waves of calm rolling through the flat, a gentle rhythm to match their exhales as they were carefully lulled to sleep, blue.

Purple

Like the cardigan wrapped around her body, the slightest amount too big, purple. Like the sandals padding along sand, feet running down the length of the beach, purple. Like the sky as the sun sets on the horizon, fading watercolours painted across the clouds, purple.

“Slow down, slow down!” Hope lamely chased after Rosie on the beach, her shoes sinking into the sand with each step.

“Not my fault you wore heels,” Rosie called over her shoulder, walking quickly down the shoreline as she tugged her cardigan closer to her body. A breeze swept over the waves, cold grazing her skin.

Hope’s bottom lip popped out in a pout, her legs working to free the sharp heels stuck in sand. “I was trying to look nice for date night.”

“You always look nice, you don’t need heels.”

“Aw,” Hope cooed, grinning at the taller woman. “Wait, seriously, stop,” she forced Rosie to retrace a few steps, her hand gripped in Rosie’s sleeve for balancing. She bounced on one foot as she tugged her heels off one by one, burying her toes in the smooth sand when they were freed. “Okay, now you get to hold them,” Hope smiled, jutting her arm out as the shoes dangled from her fingers.

“What? Why me?”

“You brought me here, it’s your fault I can’t walk anymore.” Hope swung the shoes, imploring them to be taken from her grasp.

“I brought you here to be romantic and you’ve spent the whole time complaining about your feet,” Rosie grumbled, but despite her protests, she took the outstretched shoes in one hand and offered Hope her other, tugging her along as soon as their palms met.

With her feet bare, Hope matched pace, sidling up to Rosie’s side and linking their arms. “Thank you, by the way,” she sighed softly, her cheek pressing to the woven fabric of Rosie’s cardigan. “It’s gorgeous out here.”

Rosie grinned cheekily, her chest puffed out for a joke, “Not as -”

“Gorgeous as me?” Hope interjected, head tilted as she peered up bemusedly.

“I was going to say the heels, but you too.”

“I can’t believe I’m dating you,” Hope groaned, burying her face further in pale purple fabric.

“Yeah, that was a really bad call on your part,” Rosie laughed loudly, squeezing the arm looped in hers tightly.

“I guess you have some good moments. Like when you buy me flowers, or take me to dinner on my night off, or bring me to the beach,” Hope emphasised her point by kicking up a small cloud of sand. “And that was only tonight. Are you up to something?” she joked, squinting up in faux suspicion.

Rosie avoided her gaze, turning to the horizon and softly setting sun instead. It’s rays stretched as far as the eye can see, basking the world in brilliant colour and reflecting off the rolling waves of the sea.

Hope’s jaw fell open, eyes scanning Rosie for any semblance of an answer, “Oh my god, you are. What is it? What’s this all about?”

With a halfhearted shrug, Rosie feigned nonchalance, “Just… setting the mood.”

Hope planted her feet, burying her toes in the sand and pulled on her partner’s sleeve as she continued walking, yanking her back. “Tell me or I’m not moving.”

“I had this whole thing planned, and now you’re trying to blackmail me into spoiling it?” Rosie chuckled, letting herself be reeled in by her baggy sleeve.

“Yep. Now tell me.”

A sigh broke from Rosie’s lips, “And you always called me stubborn. Okay, just -” she shook out her shoulders, rolling her neck. “Give me a minute, I thought I’d have more time.”

With a slight frown, Hope crossed her arms over her chest, but she obliged nevertheless. She watched Rosie drop the heels in her hand and fidget restlessly, fingers adjusting her cardigan, her dress, her hair. Until they slipped into her purse, digging around for a brief second before drawing out a small box.

It’s rolled in Rosie’s palms, her hands never stilling as long as it's in her grasp. She takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “The day I met you was… honestly, it was pretty embarrassing,” Rosie grinned, as crooked as ever. “But you didn’t hold it against me. And… that’s probably the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Probably?” Hope’s eyebrow quirked, her hip jutting out to the side in objection.

The taller woman glared up from beneath her long lashes, “You want the heartfelt speech or not?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Hope’s hands waved placatingly. “Please, continue.”

“Right, okay,” Rosie nodded, rebuilding her courage. “You are more than I ever expected and more special than I first thought. Every day I’ve known you has been better than the last, and it’s like - like brighter? Like everything’s just more colourful now, and I don’t know what you did, but I love you for it,” she grinned, bashful for once, with a blush dusting her cheeks.

“And I know this is a long time coming, but better late than never right?” she chuckled softly beneath her breath, eyes trained on the sand as the flush in her cheeks grew. “So I just have to ask, if after everything, you’d be willing to stick around and keep making everything brighter?”

Tears glittered in Hope’s eyes, a shine coating them as she sucked in a trembling breath. Her fingers carefully covered Rosie’s, a thumb traced the small rock embedded in the ring as she watched it shine in the low light.

Rosie shifted from foot to foot, staring down at the ring with a miniscule frown. “It’s not much, but…”

“It’s perfect,” Hope cut her off before she could finish, voice as sweet as ever. “Perfect,” she repeated as she gently took it from Rosie’s hands, slipping it on her finger. She turned it over carefully, movements as graceful as ever to Rosie’s peering gaze.

Abruptly, Hope’s arms curled around her waist, face burying in her shoulder. Rosie reciprocated without a thought, squeezing tight. “You know, I think I need an answer,” she breathed into Hope’s skin, lips slowly split into a smile.

“Oh!” Hope darted backwards, hands aimlessly fumbling until they landed on Rosie’s jaw, cupping her face warmly. “Yes! God, yes. I’m - I’m here to stay,” she beamed. “Always.”

Rosie’s forehead bumped against Hope’s, arms wound around her torso. “I told you no goodbyes, didn’t I?”

“You are ever true to your word,” she tapped the side of Rosie’s nose teasingly before retracting, rubbing her arms to warm them. “Come on, let’s go; I’m freezing out here,” she bounced on her feet expectantly.

“Yeah, the beach was more romantic in my head,” Rosie chuckled, tugging her cardigan off her body to drape it over Hope’s shoulders.

Taking the gifted cardigan, Hope turned on her heel, leading the way from the chilling breeze sweeping over the sea. She hooked her arm through Rosie’s once again as they walked in silence, a comfortable silence. It’s carried along the breeze, relaxed as the lapping waves that grow more and more distant.

“I still appreciate it,” Hope commented as they came to a stop by their car, folding her arms as she leaned against it, lavender wool dripping from her arms.

“The beach or the ring?”

“I can appreciate both.

Rosie laughed brightly, hooking an arm around Hope’s waist to draw her in. Her smile softened, from a burning wildfire to a fireplace, there to keep you warm and safe more than anything. Hope’s arms snaked around her neck in response, their bodies melding in a way that was more natural to them than breathing.

“Look at you,” Rosie whispered in private awe, her breath ghosted along Hope’s lips as one nail traced the curves shaping them.

Hope’s own smile was serene, full of her own hominess, “What do you see?”

With her gaze filled with nothing but the face before her, tracing over every bump and dip in skin, every line and colour in gleaming irises, she breathed, “Everything.”

Like the deep of the creeping night, stars glittering within the gradient of the sky, purple. Like the future laid out before them, infinite possibilities but an amethyst sitting at the centre of it all, purple. Like the feeling of contentment, peace swirling in the pit of your stomach, purple.

#ignore that this isn't roy g big lmao #i couldn't be bothered to do the accurate version #litg fanfic #litg hope #hope x mc #rosie mwendwa #hdn #idk how to tag #but thats nothing new #i had fun with the tumble text colours lmao #also i feel like i’m really bad at writing hope but i’m just gonna roll with it

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something-fanfiction-ie · 5 years ago

Text

Rough Drafts

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Explicit descriptions of a murder scene, argument, angst, and cursing.

A/N: Okay, so I know I said I was gonna publish this yesterday but I got Cassandra Clare’s newest book and I couldn’t put it down. I seriously love that lady. Omg. Anyways, it’s here now! And it’s angsty! And there’s gonna be a fourth part soon I promise! For real. Don’t forget to reblog, comment, send me an ask or a message and overall just adore me so that I may continue to feel good about myself. As always thank you for supporting me and I hope you enjoy!!!

[ Part One | Part Two ]

___

An incredulous laugh bursts from your lips, your nails cutting crescent moons into the palms of your hands as you try and convince yourself that this isn’t actually happening.

“Do you have alibis for your whereabouts on Monday, June eighth, Saturday, June thirteenth, and Thursday, June eighteenth?” Spencer can see your leg bouncing rapidly under the table, your eyes flying over the pictures and the expression of Emily Prentiss. You seem genuine, but he can’t trust himself to get an accurate read of you anymore.

“I, uhm, I- I wouldn’t know off the top of my head. I keep a planner, I’ll forget things otherwise.” The burst of iron in your mouth is not something you’re unused to, having chewed your cheek so badly that the skin there has broken under your teeth.

“We’ll need to see that.” Emily isn’t sure whether or not she believes that you’re guilty, watching the way you seem to unravel before her. When you look at the crime scene photos, it isn't with any pleasure, but with disgust. Your nose wrinkles a little at the bridge and you keep looking away as the blood from your face starts to drain.

Either you’re a really good actress or you aren’t the unsub.

Emily says as much as she flips through the small teal planner that you’d willingly given them. Due dates for chapters, publishing events, book signings and days for book tours fill most of the pages in your most neat handwriting. Dates you plan to go visit your mother, grocery shop, doctor’s appointments, even plans to go somewhere and write.

Everything is explicitly stated, that way you’re never unsure of what you meant to tell yourself. That is, until around three weeks ago when a handful of days are notated with an ‘S,’ followed by a random doodle. Sometimes it’s a tiny heart drawn absentmindedly while you discuss the plans over the phone, other times it’s a cartoon bunny or a top hat.

Garcia is the first to take notice of it, her fingers faltering in their constant thrum against the keyboard in front of her. She glances out of the side of her glasses, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

“Looks like lonely girl found herself a boo.”

“That makes sense,” JJ says from the chair she’s pulled into Penelope’s office from the bullpen. A pen is stretched between her hands, her posture relaxed into the curve of the stiff, government-issued rolly chair.

All the girls have gathered into the tech analyst’s room while the men take turns interrogating you. Well, all except Spencer. He just stands behind that window watching your every move with eyes like a hawk. “What doesn’t make sense is why she keeps it secret even in her personal planner.”

“Maybe she has a stalker? That could be who is doing all this?”

“Then she wouldn’t keep careful notation of everything else going on in her life. A stalker would follow her every move, not just her romantic interests. Even if he is in love with her.”

“A partner, maybe? Like the days they planned the murders or days they were acted out?”

“None of the days line up with the crimes, save for this one,” Emily leans the book toward the two women with her finger just underneath June fifth, the day Alison Crane was abducted from outside her campus dorm room. It’s the third ‘S’ scribbled into the corner of a day in the entire book.

“And there is nothing else written in relation to this ‘S’ character?” JJ shakes her head, looking for any clues that could be nestled among the loops and curls of your writing. Reid would be better at this, he was the graphology expert among them. So why wasn’t he back here helping?

“Then I guess we better try and get her to talk about it. Meanwhile Garcia, we’ll get Rossi and Reid to head over to her apartment and you can hack into her computer?” Penelope spins the chair, a flash of bright colors and blond hair. She clicks her tongue in response, throwing up a fingers gun and winking.

“Whatever you need me to do, I’m on it like sexy on Derek Morgan stepping out of the shower in a towel.”

After some arguing, and maybe just a little bit of pleading, they manage to convince Reid to join Rossi on a trip to your apartment. He can’t help but feel a little uncomfortable, standing in your living room. Not because he’d been here before, but because he’d never been here before.

The empty mugs that litter every surface, smelling of old coffee and your favorite coffee creamer (he only knows it’s your favorite because you explicitly ask for that creamer at every coffee shop the two of you have ever gone to), is unfamiliar to him. He’s invited you to his apartment at least three times. How come he had never been to yours?

Small pages and notebooks of scribbled ideas and dialogues cover just as many areas as the coffee cups do, your handwriting messy and cramped in every note. It’s almost like you couldn’t get the idea out of your head fast enough.

The bed in your room is meticulously made without a wrinkle in sight, but that could be because of the obvious bed you’ve made yourself along the salmon pink couch that stretches out in front of your TV. A multicolored crochet blanket is thrown haphazardly over the back, a pillow still slightly squished against the arm.

On the coffee table is a half opened laptop, a notebook with red and black ink scribbled in the lines, and a still full cup of coffee. Rossi makes quick work of calling Garcia and helping her get patched into your computer. It’s strange, watching her move the mouse on your screen from miles away.

Reid never stops moving, walking the length of your studio apartment with his eyes peeled for any kind of information he could find. It’s obvious that you spend most of your time in the main room, which houses the kitchen, a small dining area, and the living room. A door leading into your room branches off to a small bathroom which is just as disorganized as everything else in your house.

Hair products, skin washes, and all kinds of makeup are scattered across the sink and back of your toilet. It’s funny because every time he’s ever met up with you, you’re bare faced and your hair is still drying from the shower you took before leaving your house. The tube of lipstick he picks up makes him think he doesn’t really know you at all.

On the nightstand in your room is a bottle of water with the label ripped off and the two Rossi books you’d bought that fateful day in the bookstore. The label from the water bottle is stuck between the middle pages of one of the books. The passages in question don’t lend anything to connecting you as a homicidal maniac, let alone a serial killer.

Back in the living room, Garcia is snooping through every aspect of your computer.

“I don’t know whether or not the be freaked out by her web history. There’s a lot of murder-y questions here. ‘Signs of a post mortem amputation,’ ‘How much blood can you lose and still live?,’ ‘Most brutal ways to be killed.’ It’s creepy.” Rossi is flicking through the notebook from the table, his eyes squinted as he tried to make sense of the abbreviations and scribblings of another writer.

“She writes crime novels so it isn’t entirely strange for her to be looking at those types of things.” Thankfully, the defense of your web search history comes from the older man who looks up as Garcia delves deeper and deeper. Spencer had thought it first, but hadn’t said anything to avoid suspicion. He’s smart enough to know that the truth has to come out eventually, but he wants to be sure of your innocence (or guilt, he reminds himself a bit glumly) before he reveals your link to him.

“I’m not seeing anything she could be using to contact a partner unless her partner is one of the publishing people she’s constantly messaging via email.” At this Spencer stops, leaning against the back of the couch with his weight resting on the heels of his hands. The stance appears relaxed. He is anything but.

“Why do we assume she has a partner?” Reid asks, impatiently pushing a stray curl away from his face. Rossi glances at him curiously, otherwise undistracted from the shake the movement gives the couch.

“Oh, Prentiss, JJ, and I were looking through her little teal book earlier and the only thing not explicitly stated was just the letter ‘S.’ It’s why they came back to interrogate and they sent you guys to her house. I thought they told you.”

Spencer wants to beat his head against the wall.

“That isn’t a lead, Garcia. You have to tell them that ‘S’ isn’t her partner.” The mouse on the computer screen falters, several saved documents for different rough drafts of books or drabbles are pulled up the way you might have papers scattered about in front of you.

“What is it? Do you know who ‘S’ is?” Rossi is turned sideways on the couch, looking over the back and up at the distressed man in front of him. It doesn’t take him long to connect the dots when they make eye contact. Penelope impatiently whines over the phone.

“I’m ‘S,’ I’ve been seeing her for the last three weeks. I’m sure if you tell me the dates then every single one of them will be days that we’ve had plans together.”

“I’m sorry, what?!” Before anyone has the chance to say anything else, the door to Garcia’s office opens and a second voice filters through Rossi’s phone speaker. It’s JJ.

“Let Reid and Rossi know there’s just been another murder.”

This time it’s a fifteen year old girl. Her hair is black and wet, her lips are as blue as the sky, and she’s naked. Water droplets from her skin have soaked into the sheet of paper that was layed over her chest. The bathtub she’s in is completely empty, but it doesn’t take a genius to know that she was drowned there. The bruises on her shoulders from the force the unsub used to pin her down are dark against the contrast of her already pale skin.

...The man leaned over the tub, his eyes squinted in thought and his lips skewed a little to the side. Ryder stayed focused on the crime scene, for the most part. But even detectives of her caliber, and higher, could easily get lost in the eyes that look up at her from beneath long golden-brown lashes.

“Detective?” She blinks the distraction away, looking back at the girl, her black hair wet and spiraling like the snakes on Medusa’s head against the ivory siding of the drained tub. Ryder can’t help but wish the girl had been lucky enough to turn her killer to stone. Maybe it would have saved her.

“Agent.” She crosses her arms, looking anywhere but at the man across from her, pretending to look for any useful clues. Ryder had gotten to the crime scene fourty-five minutes before the pair of FBI Agents had walked in. The man, who had introduced himself as Supervisory Special Agent Matthew Gray, had decided to join her in the second floor bathroom. His partner, a woman named Katherine Swift, had taken to looking for clues through the rest of the house.

Agent Gray is beautiful. It’s the only adjective that seems to stick to him with certainty, every other aspect of his personality just as elusive as the exact color of those eyes. Even as short as his hair is, the golden brown tendrils are unkempt and curl every which way. Ryder has to force her hand to stay at her side and not reach up to smooth an alfalfa that does nothing for the serious expression on his face.

She keeps imagining what it would feel like if he reached out to kiss her, curling his fingers into her hair and bringing her unworthy lips up to meet his. He’s tall so she would probably have to stretch a little, but she wouldn’t mind. Not when his hands are tangled in her hair and he’s giving her the kiss she’s been silently begging for since the moment he flashed that crooked grin at her.

The imagination is so vivid that she jumps when her own partner, Detective Russo, comes around the corner of the hallway and straight into the bathroom...

The paper crinkles in the evidence bag as Morgan places it on the table, trying to ignore the daggers being glared into him on the other side of the mirror.

Nobody on the team had been very happy with Spencer when they heard the news about your relationship, Hotch had nearly snatched him by the scruff of his neck when he made to go into the interrogation room. But after several minutes of thoroughly explaining himself, Hotch had sent Morgan in. To say Spencer was infuriated was an understatement.

“Do you know what this is, (Y/N)?” You look down at it, twisting the evidence bag so that you could read the Times New Roman font you always wrote in when writing in Microsoft Word. The words cover the front and back of the copy paper, but you don’t have to read it through all the way before you know what it is.

“It’s a page from my newest book.” The bag scratches against the tabletop as you push it away from you, crossing your arms over your chest. Your face is stoplight red with embarrassment at the thought of Spencer reading this page, mostly because you had pulled so heavily from your own thoughts when first meeting Spencer to write Ryder and Gray’s first meeting. You created Matthew Gray to write about Spencer Reid in a way that felt less ‘high school diary entry.’

“More specifically, it’s from the book you just started working on about a month ago. The one that only you and your agent have access to.” Finally, Morgan sits. Before, he’d just been pacing around you the way a lioness might stalk around her prey before she launches an attack. It made you uneasy, but that was the whole point, wasn’t it?

“Do you know where we found it, (Y/N)?” His muscles bulge against his shirtsleeves when he leans them up on the table. Derek Morgan is a very attractive man, you’ll give him that, but if making you uneasy and putting you in the room with a attractive man to fluster you was their strategy then they should have sent in Spencer.

“My computer.”

“We found it on the body of a dead girl.” Another picture joins the ones already shuffled around the table. You can barely look at it, nausea and tears building in your throat at the sight of another person dying the same way you’d written in a story. When you don’t respond, Morgan continues.

“‘She was found at the bottom of an empty bathtub, a pale leg hooked over the edge of the porcelain siding, and her arms pinned to her sides in death. Bruises discolored the skin at her shoulders, and Ryder knew at first glance that her cause of death would be asphyxiation by drowning.’” He drops the paper back to the table, having picked it up to read the passage from the end of the page.

“That’s wrong,” You say, leaning back over the table to look at the paper again. Derek looks down, like the words might have changed in the moment he looked away, but the text stays exactly the same as before.

“That’s exactly what is written here.” You shake your head, pulling the bag back to you and wrinkling your forehead in thought.

“I don’t doubt that is what you read, Agent Morgan,” Your eyes fly over the page, reading the end of the excerpt with overwhelming relief. The bag sticks a little to the pad of your index finger as you tap over the paragraph in question. “But I rewrote this scene only two nights ago. It’s on my computer, I’m sure your tech analyst can confirm my claim. This girl, Bella, she doesn’t die from drowning anymore. Her hands are tied above her head to the faucet and she’s strangled. I couldn’t decide if I wanted it to be by her sister or her girlfriend.”

JJ rushes back to Penelope’s office, on a mission to confirm your statement just as you had suggested. Meanwhile, Morgan’s mind is rushing to figure out the mess he is currently sat in. You lean back in your chair now, unsure if the dizziness you feel is from lack of food or the sudden realization that they couldn’t pin this to you anymore.

“I’m not your bad guy. If I was doing this to prove to my mother that my writing is good, that I chose the right career, as your profile says, I wouldn’t change the scene in my book and not change the murder.” In Morgan’s earpiece, Hotch tells him that you were telling the truth about editing the scene two nights ago.

“Unless you planned it to throw us off track. We know about your relationship with Spencer, you’ve probably found out all kinds of things to do to keep us from catching you.”

You clench your teeth, straightening into your chair and pinning Derek down with a look you’d learned from your mother. It makes him think of his mom, your eyes narrowed and your gaze so cold that it could cause frostbite. He watches curiosily as you tilt your chin up a little, trying to hide the pricks behind your eyes and the wobble of your lip. Derek notices them, the entire team notices. They’re trained to notice.

“I want a lawyer.” You say simply, you voice is sharp and quiet but it does the job of slicing through the tension already building in the room.

“Come on, you don’t need a lawyer.”

“That’s where you’re wrong again, Agent Morgan. I do need a lawyer. Because even though I have full-heartedly trusted the justice system since I was in diapers, and even though I came to these offices willing to help your team in any way that I could, you are still trying to use me as a scapegoat instead of actually doing your fucking job and finding the bastard who is killing people in my name.

“A study from criminal law bulletin says that 10,000 people are wrongfully convicted of serious crimes every year. One in every twenty-five people sentenced to death are innocent, Agent Morgan. Just since 1973, more than 160 people were exonerated from the death penalty. That’s not even counting the people who were killed. But you sure as hell aren’t about to make me apart of that statistic because you want to waste your time trying to piece an investigation around me. That’s not how you’re supposed to do your job. So until you can remember how to do it correctly, I do need a lawyer. Thank you.”

By the time you finish you’ve leaned over the table, your index finger jammed into the wood to make your point. It feels like your chest is on fire as you slam back into your seat and cross your arms, determined to keep your silence for the rest of the time you were forced to sit here.

Everyone on the opposite side of the mirror is stunned into silence, their eyes focused on you even as Derek gathers all the things from the desk and walks out looking a little flustered himself. If Spencer was totally honest, your outburst was actually kind of hot. He has to remind himself that you may have killed eight people in cold blood.

Your lawyer makes it to the BAU in record time, his red hair expertly gelled back from his face. His icy blue eyes only cracking when he sees you sitting by yourself in the interrogation room. Spencer can tell by the way that he lowers himself on the balls of his feet to talk to you, reaching out to touch the hand that sits on your thigh, that he knows you personally. He likes you, actually. Spencer tried to tell himself that it doesn’t make him glad when you pull your hand out of his and awkwardly pat his arm.

He’s been lying to himself a lot today.

Hotch is the one to go back in the room, he was the best at dealing with lawyers. Unfortunately his best wasn’t enough to keep you in custody and soon your lawyer, who Spencer learned was named Jeremy, was walking you out of the room for the first time in six hours.

Your back cracks when you stand, your shoulders rolling back to try and ease some of the stress you’d been holding there since this morning. The sound of the door swinging open for you is almost heavenly, the feel of the air outside of the room is damn near enough to make you cry.

When you look to the side, ready to leave out the second door that leads into the hallway and away from this mess, you meet eyes with the only profiler of the BAU that you hadn’t seen that day. Spencer looks back at you with an expression that you find hard to put into words.

He almost looks sorry, the regret evident in the slight widening of his eyes, but at the same time his chin is tilted up like he is facing an enemy he has vowed to take down no matter the cost. His shoulders are squared, but his arms are uncrossed and his palms are open.

And even though you knew you wouldn’t be there without him knowing, the reassurance that Spencer knew and even suspected you is like a blow to the chest and stomach. It robs you of air, causing you to stumble.

Jeremy reaches to steady you. You shake him off, pulling your eyes from the young doctor and focusing all of your attention on the door knob.

“I’m fine, Jeremy.” Your tone of voice is more harsh than you intended but you’re still struggling to collect oxygen, even when you slide into your car by yourself, it feels like you can’t get enough air. The walk from the BAU offices to the parking lot had passed in a blur. Jeremy’s talk about staying at home and keeping your head low had gone by even faster, and now that you have time to truly be by yourself, everything hits like a ton of bricks thrown at you from a speeding train.

In the midst of your panic attack, gasping for air into the palms of your shaking hands, questioning everything about yourself and your career, you don’t register the shuffle of movement in your backseat. You’re so deep in your mind that you almost don’t notice the cool press of a gun barrel against the back of your neck until a familiar voice lifts your head from your hands.

“Drive.”

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid imagines #dr spence reid #spence reid #criminal mind imagine #criminal minds

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nerdbee · 4 years ago

Text

Sunshine and Shadows- Chapter 5

The infirmary was suddenly busy with demigods wanting to see the piano. Will shooed them away, telling them that they would be more useful looking around the camp, in order to see if there were any more unwanted additions to the scenery.

Although everything had by then calmed down considerably, Nico pulled the blue curtain around to cordon off his little area. Sitting on the bed, he tried to block out all the hubbub of outside by taking a pen he always kept with him, and clicking the clip at the top, focusing on the steady clicking noise. He wasn’t sure why, but the combined sound and action of clicking a pen clip always allowed him to get his thoughts back in line.

He stayed like that until Will gently pulled the curtain back a little, and came through with a tray of food, letting the curtain close behind him. Nico blinked and turned to the clock on the bedside table. Lunchtime already, he realised with surprise. He must have zoned out again.

Will took two folding chairs, and sat opposite him on one of them, using the other as a table for the tray. He inclined his head towards the tray, indicating for Nico to eat something. Nico picked up a packet of crisps, trying to hide his disappointment when he realised that they were just dried vegetables. Upon trying one, he found that they actually weren’t that bad.

Will took a bite out of his sandwich, before fixing his gaze on Nico.

“So I’ve realised that I don’t actually know you that well. So I’ve got some questions here”

he paused to take an actual notebook with writing scrawled all over the first page out of his pocket.

“And I thought maybe we could take it in turns to ask each other questions.”

Nico nodded.

“It was your idea so you can go first”

Will looked down at his list and read off the first question

“We’ll start simple. What’s your favourite colour?”

Nico furrowed his brow as he thought.

“There’s a time of day when everyone is still asleep. I used to find the tallest hill in the area wherever I was. Just before sunrise, the sky sort of is this purply, bluey colour, paler than the night sky, but not quite light. I think that’s my favourite colour.”

Will smiled at Nico’s answer. He often smiled, Nico thought Will had probably smiled more in these few days that Nico had done for the past year. Nico had a very strong urge to protect his new friend, he didn’t deserve anyone hurting him. Of course, he said none of this, and instead asked

“What’s your favourite animal?”

Will wrinkled his nose as he thought.

“I like most animals, but I’d say that dogs are my favourite. There’s a farm near my grandparents’ house and their golden retriever had puppies two years ago and they gave one to me for my birthday. I can’t keep him at camp, sadly, although I did try. He’s called Cooper and he’s a big softie.”

Nico had a sudden mental image of Will playing with tiny puppies and suppressed a little smile. Will moved on to the next question on his list.

“What’s on your bucket list?”

Nico tilted his head. He had no clue what a bucket list was. Thankfully, Will seemed to notice this.

“A bucket list is a list of things you’d like to do at some point in your life. For example, I want to travel in Europe, because I’ve never been outside the States. You know what, scrap this list of questions, let’s make a bucket list.”

He carefully folded over the top page of his notebook and wrote NICO’s BUCKET LIST at the top, double underlining it. Nico glanced up at Will.

“ It would be weird if we just made one for me. Let’s make a joint one. It’d be lonely if I did it all by myself.”

Will’s grin widened as he added his name into the title.

“Alrighty. What should go first? What have you always wanted to do?”

Nico replied after some consideration

“I want to learn to play an instrument. You said you didn’t have any musical skills so we could learn together.”

Will wrote it down on the list, chuckling.

“My grandparents once hired a guitar teacher for me. I was awful. I think that they were surprised that someone from such a musical family could be so musically incompetant.”

Nico laughed. Will looked at him for a few seconds, before quickly turning his head to finish writing it down. Once he was done, he suggested

“We could go to Iceland. Or France.”

“We could go to both of them.”

Nico responded.

“If we time it right, we could see the Northern Lights.”

Will nodded, and wrote France and Iceland on the list.

“Also, I’ve always wanted to go to a concert. Like a proper one, not one of my mom’s. Or maybe a music festival.”

“That sounds fun”

replied Nico.

“What kind of music would we want to see? I don’t know many specific musicians, I kind of just listen to whatever happens to be playing.”

Will looked up from where he was doodling pictures in the margin. From where he was sitting, Nico could see stars, moons, and squiggles that were possibly clouds.

“I was actually talking to Percy and Jason about that. They wanted to share some of their favourite music and films with you. They said they’d set up a sleepover type thingy in Percy’s cabin. Jason didn’t want to host it in his. Something about a hippie Zeus, whatever that means. I’ve told Chiron that it’s not healthy for you to spend so much time alone, Doctor’s Orders.”

At this, he winked at Nico and Nico found himself laughing again. Something about Will made him feel safe without any risks of being judged. Will spoke again.

“You’ve actually only got until tomorrow in here, so I thought you could maybe come to the pavilion for dinner today? I could maybe sit at your table, but only if you want.”

Nico was surprisingly excited by this, yet there were also some nerves about eating lunch with so many people around after so long travelling. He also worried about if people would accuse him of not telling them about the Romans. Sure, everything was friendly now, but the war between the two camps had distracted from the main problem of giants destroying the world. Nevertheless, he said, in what was either an act of bravery or stupidity,

“Alright then.”,

and so the rest of his day was spent wondering what would happen.

Taglist:

@rainbow-sheepofthefamily

@emava04

@percabethfangirl

@nightmareghosts

@luna0713hunter

@seven-halfbloods

@my-apollo-gies

All chapters are linked in my masterlist

(my pinned post)

Also posted on Ao3

#heroes of olympus #rick riordan #trials of apollo #riordanverse #percy jackson and the olympians #will solace #nico di angelo #solangelo

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yukiobeyme · 5 years ago

Note

Could you please do the demon brothers finding MC's sketchbook being full of sketches of them? Love you writing! ⊂((・▽・))⊃

Sorry, I’ve been taking forever, but I’m finally in the mood to write and it turned out I had this mostly done so ya yee! I hope you enjoy it!

Lucifer:

Lucifer doesn’t snoop, it’s not in his nature. But when he saw you had left your sketchbook out and in the common area, he couldn’t help but stroll by casually and take a glance.

He was taken back when he saw sketches of him, he felt his face heat up but was quick to leave the room because he didn’t want to be caught.

He wouldn’t confront you about it either, he would wait to see if you came to him first.

He wanted to learn more about your drawings and see more of it, what he didn’t expect how often you actually left the sketchbook around and open.

So, he made it a habit to always walk by it and check to see if you left it in the common room. Each time he walked by it was a new sketch of him, this time it looked like you had started it during a council meeting and he was stunned how you captured him, but you also had pictures of his eyes, nose and lips scattered around the page as well.

What he didn’t expect was for you to come in and give an awkward cough behind him. He turned around wide-eye and felt himself blush when he saw you standing there.

You were quick to scramble and grab your sketchbook

Mammon:

Mammon is a known snoop when Levi and he were in your room waiting for you. He couldn’t help but look through your belongings, Levi thought it was to see if you had any valuables, but it was to try to learn more about you.

He knew you were into drawing in your sketchbook; he had seen your work in your sketchbook during class or lunch. You rarely sat near him when you drew in your sketchbook.

He didn’t expect to see sketches of him in the book when he finally opened it. He flushed immediately; it was different poses. Him in class when you sat behind him or off to the side. Or when you attended student council meetings, old photoshoots. You had sketches of him smiling, laughing and even blushing.

Levi noticed instantly and tried to look at the sketchbook, but Mammon was quick to keep it out of reach and thankfully that’s when you entered so Levi stopped and Mammon could set your sketchbook, hoping it was unnoticed.

The next time he caught you drawing, he would stroll over and ask what you were drawing and when you blushed and was quick to cover the sketch, he felt like he had won. He would beg and plead with you to let him see it.

It was another sketch of him, but this one tugged at Mammon heart, it was his Demon form, you had added color to this one and it was gorgeous, and Mammon felt his heart stuttered.

Mammon was flushed and speechless, he knew it was filled with sketches of him, but he couldn’t help but react the same way.

“You know, you could always ask. I could um pose for you?” Mammon finally stuttered, looking away from you.

“Sure,” your voice was high pitched, and your face had turned red.

So later you would meet up in his room and you both nervously stood and looked at each other not knowing what to do.

“How do you want me?” Mammon asked and eyes widened at the implication.

You would gain some confidence and ask if you could draw him shirtless.

He agrees and stays flushed the whole time, from the tips of his ears into his chest, you made sure to include it.

Leviathan:

Levi didn’t mean to snoop, but you left your sketchbook in his room after an anime marathon

At first, he saw sketches of the anime characters, seeing the detail and how beautiful they looked

His face flushed when he saw the first sketch of him

It was him curled up, completely focused on the anime

How his eyes were wide open, engrossed and his mouth agape

He didn’t hear you knock or crack his door open

You were mortified to see he had your sketchbook in his hands

Levi? You said quietly, your voice was slightly shaky

He jumped and flinched at the sound of your voice, slamming the book shut

He immediately started to stutter out countless apologizes

While you were embarrassed you reassured him it was okay, but you wished he asked

He shyly commented on how good your work was

Which caused you to give him a beaming smile

You offered to draw him Zaramela or Henry 1.0

He frames it and keeps it in his room and smiles whenever he sees it

Satan:

It ended up in possession by accident

You both were in the library

You left and when Satan left, he gathered all the books, including your sketchbook

Later he would go through the pile books

He froze when he saw it

He knew the right thing would be to return it immediately

But instead, he decided to hold onto it

Gave you a reason to come see him

He decided he would look at it

He grabbed the book he was looking for and went to read it

But the thought of looking in your sketchbook kept nagging him

A small peak wouldn’t harm anything right?

The first few pages must have been of the human world and your friends

He looked over your friends, how brightly they smiled

Some of their names were written down

And it seemed you let them write and doodle beside their picture

He smiled at them, he felt like he learned so much more about you then

He decided to remember to ask about your human friends

He got engrossed though and couldn’t stop flipping through the pages

Then it transitioned to Devildom

You drew flowers you saw writing down the names

The next page made it freeze

It was a sketch of himself

It was during a student meeting

You captured his scolding face; he felt the urge to stop there but continue at the same time

The next page was called Satan Study

It was different sketches of his eyes, nose, face shape, his smile and his hair

He snapped the book shut and threw it as if it burned him when he heard a knock and you called out to him

“Have you seen my sketchbook? I had it when we were studying together.

He quickly moved around his room, acting to search for it in his piles of books before going where he threw it

He gave it to you with a slight blush and sent you on your way

Asmodeus:

Asmodeus saw you draw constantly, he needed to see what you were drawing

Maybe it was mischievous to steal your sketchbook

If you questioned him, he would say it was in his demon nature

He went to his room to look at it in private

He started to flicker through the notebook and was thrilled to see drawings of him

Of course, you chose him to be your subject, he was gorgeous

Couldn’t help but a little turned on, he is a narcissistic

He took pictures and posted it to Devilgram, tagging you in it

That’s when you knew he took your sketchbook

You had mixed emotions of being livid and embarrassed

That was your private drawing, rough sketches that were messy

It wasn’t meant to be shared

You immediately marched to his room to get it back

You snatched it from him, without any words

You didn’t want to talk to him, while you were mad you didn’t want to say anything you would regret

Asmodeus would be dense and not understand your emotions and wouldn’t think to apologize

A week of silence and avoiding him, had him coming to you and asking what is wrong

“You really don’t know?” you couldn’t help but feel hurt

Instead of making him guess, you let him in your room and sit and your bed

And you talked about your feelings about the events

When it clicked he felt bad

He told you he just wanted to brag about you

Beelzebub:

You were drawing in the cafeteria, sitting across from Beelz

You seemed engrossed in the drawing but you and Beelz were used to just keeping each other company so he didn’t mind the silence

Lucifer ended up calling you away for a meeting, that you completely forgot about that

In your rush to leave, you left your sketchbook

Beelz called to you but you were already gone

He grabbed it and treated it as it was a baby

He knew how important it was to you

But he was curious about what drawing you were so engrossed in

Flipping through the pages finding different moments you captured

He froze when he saw sketches of him

It was page after page

Of different moments

While he was working out, eating, laughing or smiling

He was so surprised he dropped the food he was holding

He was shocked and immediately tried to clean it up

But it was too late, and he stained the page

He felt horrible

When he saw you, he wasn’t going to tell you, but how you brightened up when you saw he had it

He confessed and looked close to tears

You were grateful he apologized and quickly looked at the damage

It wasn’t on any of the sketches and was only limited to that page

So, you didn’t mind too much because nothing was ruined

He still offered to buy you food anyways to apologize

Belphegor

You left the sketchbook in the planetarium

He napped while you were drawing

He figured you were drawing the night sky

Something you often talked about how often you loved it

But when he saw a sketch of his sleep form instead, he had mixed emotions

How you managed to capture his features and he was surprised he looked peacefully when he slept

He started going through the other pages

He froze when he saw a drawing of him in his demon form

Unlike the sleeping drawing, he looked angry and evil

You had written a single sentence on the page

“When do the nightmares stop?”

Belphegor immediately recognized that this must have been how he looked when he killed you

His gut twisted, he had changed so much towards you

But you still had your fears

You were having nightmares because of him

When he gave you back your sketchbook

He pulled you into an uncharacteristic hug

Without mentioning the drawing

He promised to you he would keep you safe and never hurt you on purpose again.

#obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #lucifer obey me #mammon obey me #leviathan obey me #satan obey me #asmodeus obey me #beelzebub obey me #belphegor obey me #yuki writes #Yuki Writes!

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stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale · 4 years ago

Text

with you [chapter four]

Summary: Clementine pops the question, Louis has nightmares, Violet can’t let go of the past, Mitch doesn’t know how to handle gross feelings, Ruby’s a goddamn sweetheart, Willy doesn’t ever remember to knock, Aasim can’t dance, and James is here, too.

Nothing like a wedding to bring this family together.

Note: tbh working on this story at night is the only thing holding my sanity together while I’m taking care of my grams. But also this chapter was a huge pain in the ass to fix and I’m 0.02 seconds away from punching a hole in the wall. But it’s fine because it’s finished and I ran all the way home just to quickly post this.

Anyway, thank you for reading and your constant support. It truly means a lot to me. I hope you enjoy ch4. ❤️

Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4

Read on: AO3

---

The page remains blank.

No matter how much Violet wills the pen to move on its own, to put all thoughts both known and unconscious to paper, it remains beside the open notebook. As outrageous as it sounds, a small part of her hopes one day the pen will magically come to life and solve all of her problems with its problem-solving ink. Then everything will be okay.

Though she has a feeling the walkers will go extinct before her pen develops a sentient personality or therapeutic skills.

And she’ll be dead by then, so it wouldn’t matter anyway.

“It helps if you pick up the pen,” Aasim said, not bothering to look up from his own work. “Just saying.”

She knows even by his deadpan tone that he’s trying to joke with her, even if he’s not good at it. Laying bait for her to bite back with a sarcastic remark of her own.

“But then I’d actually have to write something down.”

“Oh no,” Aasim smirks, paying her a brief glance. “Effort.”

That cracks a small smile out of her, and for a fleeting moment, they’re smiling at each other as if that’s a normal thing. It’s hard to maintain that connection, so damn hard, so Violet hides her smile from him by turning away to look towards the gates.

The very same gates that Clementine, AJ, and Rosie pass through. Back from patrol, if she overheard correctly. Even from a distance, Violet can see the delighted grin Clementine wears, a grin only matched by AJ’s. Far brighter than Violet’s.

AJ hugs her tightly before breaking away and bolting towards Louis, James, and Tenn. Clementine remains, though, arms folded over her chest as she watches the group of boys with such fondness that it damn near makes Violet want to scream.

Shit, just…. Shit .

“Hey,” Aasim reaches over, tapping on the blank page of her journal with his own worn-out pen to grab her attention. “Lucy had her babies this morning. Seven of them. Well, eight, but one of them didn’t make it.”

Violet tears her glare away from Clementine to instead glare at Aasim.

“Who the hell is Lucy?”

“One of the pregnant rabbits, remember? Not the one that had babies last week, the other one.”

“We’re still naming them?” Violet asks. Aasim made it very clear that no names were to be used when they started up the rabbit farm by the greenhouse.

“They’re food, not pets. No names. No attachments.”

That didn’t last long.

“ I didn’t name her,” Aasim corrects. “Willy did, even though I’ve told him again and again not to. Now when it comes time for us to put Lucy down, he’s not going to talk to me for another two weeks, as if I’m the only one at fault. Remember Albert?”

“Ah, Prince Albert,” Violet nods. “He sure was delicious.”

Everyone agreed that the lovely Prince Albert was one of the handsomest rabbits they had with his snow white fur offset by brown feet and ears. They also agreed that he made one of the best rabbit stews Omar’s ever created.

Including Willy. That is until Omar offered him one of Prince Albert’s lucky feet and Willy realized just who he had consumed.

The boy didn’t speak to Aasim or Omar for a week, but Violet believes that he still carries around one of Prince Albert’s feet for good luck, despite everything.

“Yeah, anyway, did you want to come with me to check on them? Ruby’s out there now. Maybe you could stay with her and help out?”

Violet scoffs.

“Look, I’ll take your night shift, too,” Aasim adds. “That way you don’t spend all day out there and then have to do a night shift.”

“I like having the night shift.”

“Every night?”

“Sure.”

“Well,” Aasim taps his pen against the table, thinking loudly to himself. “I’m giving you the night off anyway. Ruby would appreciate your company.”

Oh, would she, now…?

It’s not that Violet minds Ruby. She’s the only girl Violet has left to talk to at this place- the only girl she’s willing to talk to, actually.

Violet would say that she enjoys evenings spent with Ruby… most of the time.

The problem with talking to or spending time with Ruby is she’s a lot. Not in the same way Louis is, but more in an overbearing mother sort of way. Always asking her how she’s feeling, asking about her day, if there’s anything she can do to help Violet out or if she wants to do this or that. She’s far too pushy sometimes, especially when it comes to shit she doesn’t understand.

“Clem’s tryin’, Vi.”

As if Ruby has all the answers to make her happy. She always makes it sound so damn easy.

“Why can’t ya just talk to each other?”

The problem is that Ruby tries to take care of everyone so that she doesn’t have to think about how to make herself happy. Why focus on your problems when you can bury your pains and wishes beneath fairy tales and other people’s problems?

At least, that’s Violet’s assumption.

Maybe Ruby is happy.

Maybe Violet just wishes she wasn’t.

Fucking hell.

Just when she thought she couldn’t be any more fucked...

“My company or yours?” Violet mumbles, finally picking up her pen, putting it to paper.

“What? My company- oh, I see.” Aasim rolls his eyes, dropping his pen in the book before shutting it. “Ha ha, very funny. I get it.”

Violet nearly rolls her eyes, too. Speaking of those who don’t bother with their own shit-

“I was thinking that it’d be good for you to go out there and help her, that’s all,” Aasim says, tucking his notebook under his arm and standing from the table. He means to walk away on that annoying note but hesitates. Then, lowering his voice to one of disquiet, he says, “I’m worried about you. So is everyone else.”

“I’m fine, Aasim.”

“...Right,” he sighs heavily. “Please go help Ruby with the rabbits. I’m only going to be there for a little bit before heading out to check the traps with Louis, and she could really use the help. Please?”

“Fine.”

Aasim lingers, shifting his weight as he gives her a chance to say something more, a chance she refuses.

“Thank you.”

With that, he’s walking away, leaving her by herself to finish a doodle of a pen with curly hair and fire for eyes with a speech bubble.

“Why are ya still here?”

---

“Is my neck supposed to feel this stiff?”

“Yes. It’s a sign of a good, unmoving model.”

“Well, good to hear that my career is off to a good start.”

Louis is still sitting there at the table, cracking jokes and trying his best not to move while James and Tenn draw. James points to various parts of Louis’ face before motioning to Tenn’s paper, something that brings a grin to Clementine’s face.

“Don’t worry, Clem,” says AJ as he hugs her. “I won’t say anything. Can I go draw now?”

“Have fun, kiddo.”

She can safely leave AJ to catch up on art lessons with James. He promised her he wouldn’t breathe a word of this to anyone- even Tenn- until she had everything all planned out.

Now that Mitch has the measurements, the ring is- hopefully- being taken care of, so all that leaves is how she plans on doing this. Several lingering thoughts follow her as she spends most of the day helping around the school, doing usual repairs to the gate and their walls.

She would’ve checked on Lucy and the other rabbits, but Aasim warned her that Violet was there with Ruby and Louis. She almost pushed him aside and went in anyway, but damn it, she knows better by this point.

Instead, she and AJ help Omar clean out the fire pit and gather fresh wood, briefly considering letting him in on her intentions. Omar’s a trustworthy friend and while she appreciates his opinion, she decides against telling anyone else until she has the ring. She’s found that battling her eagerness to be growing more difficult with every passing day.

So much so that she also considers asking about the progress on said ring when she finds Mitch and James near the library��s entrance, speaking in hushed whispers that she couldn’t make out. All talk stopped when she approached them, and began again when Mitch became snappy with her before dragging James away.

Odd, and not boding well for her, but she firmly believes that if there were any issues she should know about, Mitch would tell her.

When the sky finally turns a lovely mixture of pink and orange, AJ gives her a hug goodnight before making his way over to Tenn’s room for another sleepover.

Before retiring to her dorm for the night, Clementine pokes her head into the music room to find it empty. A slight disappointment falls over her as she hoped Louis would be up for some piano lessons, but that dissipates when she finds Louis kneeling on AJ’s desk with a roll of duct tape hanging from his mouth when she walks in, a stack of drawings placed beside him. He’s taping up one of the portraits of himself on the wall.

“Ey!” He waves at her before spitting the tape out. “Look at these!” He hops off the desk and points at the one he just hung up. “That’s the one James drew. Charming, isn’t it?”

The amount of detail in the portrait is startling, a fully shaded-in head portrait of Louis that seemingly stares right at her. Even the little details, like his freckles and the scar on his chin, are noticeable.

“It’s way weirder than I thought it’d be,” he says, “having someone stare and dissect every part of your face. Did you know I have a very angular jawline?” He tilts his head up to prove his point. “And James said I have a nice eye shape.”

“He did do you justice,” she says, still admiring the picture. “Very handsome.”

His chuckle comes out loud and anxious, not having expected her to say that.

“Hah, yeah, except,” then Louis pushes his jacket back to place his hands on his hips, “uhm, do you think my nose is big?”

“What?”

“James said I have a wider nose. He drew it bigger than it actually is, right?”

“You have a very cute nose.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Clementine giggles. “Your nose is perfectly fine, Louis.”

He eyes the portrait, still uncertain, only to then gasp as if just remembering something.

“Oh, wait though, ready for this?” He searches through the pile before plucking the one he wants out. “ This is the one Tenn drew.” He proudly holds it up.

She can’t say she’s not impressed. It’s nowhere near as proportional or advanced as James’, but Clementine can see the effort and charm within the lines. Definitely Tenn’s work.

“Wow,” Clementine smirks, nudging him. “I see it now. James is right, you do have a big nose.”

“ Hey ,” Louis reaches up and playfully pinches her nose, “big talk from little button nose over here.” Louis sticks Tenn’s portrait on the wall, next to James’. “There! We’re getting quite the art gallery.”

“One’s missing, though.” Clementine grabs Louis’ picture of Rosie off the desk and tapes it up with the others.

“Seriously?” he asks sheepishly.

“Oh yeah. We’re never taking that one down.”

“Terrific.”

Louis continues to look through the rest of the drawings. He hums to himself lightly, a tune she recognizes. He sticks more drawings on the wall; ones that AJ drew of him and Tenn, one he drew of Disco Broccoli.

He pauses when he comes across the one of AJ, Clementine, and him. The one with the beach ball. He smiles fondly at it before sticking it up there with the rest.

She sits on AJ’s bed, leaning against the frame to close her eyes and listen to his cheerful humming.

One of the few things she loves in this world is the comfort she has when he’s around.

It’s a comfort she never thought she’d find again. Before Ericson, she and AJ never had time for comfortable peace. When it was just them, there was always that lurking feeling, that bitterness, that lingered in her thoughts.

Now, they have a place they call home.

Clementine can’t imagine where they would’ve ended up had she not crashed the car. They’d still be out in the world, scavenging every little bit they could to survive. They never would’ve met the people she now considered family.

She and Louis would’ve never met, where she and AJ never met anyone at Ericson.

That’s a really shitty thing to think about.

Finding this place, their home, was the best thing that happened to them. Meeting everyone here- Louis, Violet, Mitch, Ruby, Aasim, everyone - has done so much for them. For years, she worried about her and AJ, about always being on the road in a car that constantly ran on fumes, about running across assholes who wanted to hurt them, about the dead finally getting the best of them. Nowhere to go, no direction. A neverending search.

She sneaks a glance at Louis. He has no idea.

He finishes up, shoving the duct tape in a drawer. Leaning against the desk with arms crossed over his chest, he looks at her with a tired grin, but says nothing.

She raises a brow.

“What?”

He shrugs.

It’s like the weariness of their previous night has caught up to him, like something triggered a sinking reality that weighs him down. The shadows along his face from the setting light do nothing to hide the sadness betraying his eyes.

She slowly approaches him and reaches out to grab his hand, tugging him closer to her.

“Hey,” she murmurs.

“Hey.”

“You feeling any better?”

“Of course.”

“Really?” Clementine locks their fingers together. “It’s been a long time since you’ve had one that bad.”

He keeps his stare focused on their hands. “...It wasn’t that bad.”

“Louis.”

“Clementine.”

“It was about that woman, wasn’t it?”

He says nothing, but she can see the answer clear in his eyes.

Yes, Clem, you know it was. It always is.

The first and only living person Louis ever personally killed, and it was purely accidental. It frustrates her that it still haunts him, and even more so that it’ll always haunt him. Even when he expressed the relief of “having it in him” to protect those he loves, there’s always a suffocating weight that comes with the first. If anyone knew that, it’s Clementine.

That kind of guilt, no matter how irrational, never stops.

“Dorian.”

“Hm?”

Louis closes his eyes and leans forward to press his forehead to hers.

“Her name was Dorian.”

“Lou-”

“I know.” He pulls back, forcing a smile. “I know.”

His gaze falls on her nose. He pinches it again.

“I don’t wanna talk about it right now. Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” she smiles sincerely. “Just… want to make sure you’re alright.”

“You don’t have to worry about me so much, Clem. There are more important ways to spend your time.”

More important?

She supposes that’s a good way to put it.

“Y’know, I was thinking about what you said this morning,” Clementine smiles. “AJ’s having another sleepover with Tenn tonight, so we have the whole room to ourselves.”

Louis raises a brow, a slow smirk spreading across his lips.

“Wanna build a pillow fort?”

“You read my mind.”

Without any hesitation, she kisses him. It’s a quick, soft, comforting peck that catches him off guard.

Another kiss to his lips, and then another. Clementine holds onto the nape of his neck and moves to his chin, his cheek, placing soft, intimate kisses against his warm skin.

He looks at her with lidded eyes before his hands caress her cheeks, his thumb brushing just below her eye.

He kisses her, eager for every press of her mouth. He doesn’t stop kissing her, even when she tightens her grip on his jacket and pulls him back with her. The desk hits her hip and he’s quick to lift her up onto the surface, almost knocking over her venus fly trap plant.

A pleased sigh escapes her lungs as she desperately moves to his jaw, down his neck. Her hands move beneath his jacket, trailing down to the hem of his shirt before bunching the material up. His skin is warm. His breathing is quick, shallow.

“Clem! Clem!”

Louis yanks back, their lips parting quickly with a loud smack as she nearly topples over from the force of him ripping away.

The bedroom door slams open and in barges Willy.

She’s disoriented, lightheaded, blinking rapidly and frantically searching for any sign of danger. All she finds is Louis, who’s now over at AJ’s desk, humming incredibly loud, and Willy hurrying in with a triumphant smile.

“Clem, guess wha-!” The second he sees Louis, he stops and gasps. “Oh no!”

“Oh, look, darling!” Louis stops pretending to look at the pictures and glares at the young boy. “It’s Willy, the boy who doesn’t know how to knock! Nice of you to pop in unannounced this late in the evening !”

Willy’s face flushes a scarlet red as his gaze darts between the two, falling down to Louis’ shirt, which remains lifted to reveal part of his stomach.

Louis yanks the material down, fake coughing.

Willy’s face is reminiscent of a fresh tomato at this point. It seems that even he got the sense of what was happening before he ran in.

Clementine slips down from the desk and tries to casually straighten out her own jacket and adjust her hat with an unfazed face, even though she’s positive that her skin is blotchy and red, too.

“I’m sorry!” Willy blurts out, covering his eyes. “I didn’t see anything! I’ll knock next time! I swear!”

“Uh-huh,” Louis frowns. “Said that last time, didn’t you?”

Now she’s not sure who’s redder, her or Willy.

“Willy, what do you want?’ Clementine sighs. She composes herself and approaches the boy.

His eyes went to Louis before meeting hers. That’s all she needs.

“Is it Mitch?”

Willy nods.

Clementine’s heart flutters. Choosing her words carefully, she asks, “Is he done?”

Willy nods once more.

“Done with what?” Louis asks.

“Uh-”

“Watch,” Clementine interrupts. “I completely forgot that I have watch.”

“Seriously?” Louis asks, confused. “Wait, I thought Ruby had watch tonight.”

“I switched her,” she lies, moving towards Willy and adding, “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Willy leaves without another word, staring down at the floor. Clementine holds back an annoyed sigh. The previous mood is completely gone and now she’s made a mess of lies that she’s gotta detangle before Louis gets suspicious.

Damn it, Willy.

Couldn’t have waited until morning.

Louis gives a thoughtful frown.

“I’m a little worried about him,” he says, “about Mitch, I mean.”

“Oh, uh, really?”

"Something weird’s going on with him,” Louis nods. “He’s been down in the basement every day for the past week and- ...Well, I went to check on him this morning before breakfast.”

Panic shoots through her stomach and into her heart.

Louis pauses, unsure if he should continue.

“And?” Clementine presses.

“...Well, when I tried going down the stairs, I think- well, it was probably nothing. I probably didn’t see what I thought I saw because I could’ve sworn I saw James down there, too-”

Clementine’s stomach drops.

“-and I don’t know what they were doing but before I could even get down the stairs, Mitch threw a shoe at me.”

“A shoe?”

Oh, goddamn it, Mitch-

“Yeah, right at my face! He about hit me in my big nose!”

Clementine rolls her eyes. “Again with the nose thing?”

“I’ve accepted its abnormally monstrous size,” he says. “Anyway, then I saw him again on my way to the greenhouse and he wouldn’t even look at me. Not that he’s one for conversation or anything, but it’s like… I don’t know. It felt weird. I don’t know what he’s doing down in the basement or what they’re doing if that really was James I saw. I’m not sure I want to know.”

“I’m sure it was nothing.”

“Probably… I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone shout ‘no!’ and ‘out!’ that many times in a ten-second time frame before hurling shoes at me. It was pretty terrifying.”

“Mitch is…” Clementine’s at a loss. While she’s thankful for Mitch’s ability to think on his feet so quickly, she wasn’t sure if she approved of the shoe method. “...Hard to understand sometimes, and he and James are friends so it’s not that weird that they’re hanging out together.”

Louis considers this, though she can tell he’s not completely convinced.

“...Do you think they’re… I mean, it’s none of my business but if there was something going on between them-”

Oh boy.

Louis then shakes his head, changing his mind.

“Y’know what? I’m sure it was nothing.”

She sighs. So much for not making Louis suspicious of anything. Then again, maybe this is her fault. She did tell James that Mitch was working on fixing the ring, and she should’ve known that would lead to him trying to help.

“He’s working on a project,” she says lamely. “He probably wants a second opinion on it from James. ”

“A bomb project? I didn’t think James was a fan of explosions.”

“Firecrackers work as a great distraction for the walkers,” says Clementine, which isn’t a total lie. Mitch brought up the suggestion to James a while ago. They spent a long time discussing the idea if she remembers correctly.

Well, better not let sweet Ruby know,” Louis says. “She’s still got a personal grudge towards Mitch’s bombs ever since that thing in the greenhouse, you know.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” she smirks. “ ‘A bomb? I will whip his ass!’ ”

Her Ruby impression gets a chuckle out of him. “Hope he knows a shoe won’t be enough to stop her. If anything, that’s just provoking the beast.”

“He’ll have to learn that for himself,” she smiles. Clementine approaches him again, fixing the collar of his jacket and apologizing, “Sorry I can't stay and help you build an amazing, comfortable pillow fort. Will you be okay?”

“Don’t worry about me, darling.” He grabs her hand and kisses her cheek. “We can always build a pillow fort another night, or, uhm, finish what we started. Maybe I’ll go tickle the ivories for a while before bed, so if I don’t see you before your finished or if I’m not awake, goodnight and stay warm.”

She gives him a long kiss goodbye before she leaves.

One the door’s shut, she takes a moment to take a deep breath.

Her face still feels warm after all the excitement. She’s still a little annoyed at the interruption, but if she’s right about what Willy was trying to imply, then she has to hurry. She can only hope that Mitch found a way to fix the ring.

The wait is starting to make her anxious.

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skye-maxwell · 5 years ago

Text

Mostly You

Persona 4 | Souyo | Third year, pre-relationship | Rated F for Fluff

Happy birthday, @livefreeordie13! You are my friend, and I like you a lot! \o/

For prompt #6: “I think about you all the time.”

---

It was Yosuke’s turn to call him today, so Souji sat on the floor of his bedroom, patiently folding paper cranes while he waited.

They had spoken to each other on the phone nearly every day since Souji had left Inaba, and Souji was grateful that Yosuke always seemed eager to hear from him. Even if it was just a quick call after school on his way to Junes, or while he was drifting off to sleep after a long day—Yosuke made time for Souji, and that meant the world to him.

The ringtone Souji had specifically assigned to Yosuke started playing, and Souji smiled, like he always did. It was a song Yosuke had shared with him to cheer him up when things had been at their worst, and now Souji knew every word and every note of the track.

“Hey, Yosuke,” Souji greeted warmly, putting his phone on speaker and setting it on his desk so he could keep folding.

“Hey, Partner!” Yosuke said happily, and Souji smiled again. He would never get tired of that enthusiasm. “What are you up to?”

“Cranes.”

“Haha, again? Are you trying to set a world record for ‘most paper cranes folded’ or something?”

“No, but now that you say that, it sounds pretty good. I think that’ll be my goal now.”

Instead of dismissing the joke like Souji expected him to, Yosuke said, “Well, if anyone can do it, it’s you. I believe in you, Partner!”

“Thank you,” Souji said dumbly, becoming flustered for a moment before he could think of a better reply. “If I do break the record, you’ll be the first one I invite to the party.”

“The party?”

“Yeah, to celebrate my success.”

“Oh man, a party thrown by you? I can see it now. It’s gonna be a total rager,” Yosuke laughed.

“Of course. It’ll be the most enraged of ragers.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

“Honestly, it would probably just end up being you and me sitting in a room drinking something like, not even alcoholic, and we would try to clink our glasses together and probably spill lemonade everywhere—”

“When did it turn into lemonade?”

“—and then you’d be all ‘Congrats, Partner,’ and yeah, that would probably be it.”

Souji expected Yosuke to laugh at the image he had created, or to call it lame and throw out ideas for an actual rager…

“I mean, as long as I’m there with you, I’m down for whatever.”

Souji dropped his paper crane.

Why? Souji mentally asked Yosuke, picking his crane back up off the floor. Why must you say such cute things?

Not about to say anything remotely like that out loud, Souji asked, “So what are you doing right now?”

Not seeming to notice the abrupt change of subject, Yosuke answered, “I’m doing homework! Kind of.”

“Are you just doodling in the margins?”

“Not just the margins, Partner—the whole paper! Because, you know, there’s no notes on the page…”

Souji sighed. “Do I need to hang up so you can get your homework done?”

“No! No no no! Please don’t hang up! I’ll actually do it later, I promise!”

“Calm down, I’m not actually gonna hang up on you.”

“Okay, good.”

“That does remind me, though… Lately I’ve been daydreaming in class a lot. Sometimes I’ll just completely space out, and by the time I space back in, I realize I haven’t been paying attention for an entire lecture.”

“For real? Did my bad habits rub off on you?”

“Why do you sound like that? What are you doing now?”

“Finished drawing. Balancing a pencil on my nose. Crap! I dropped it. Anyways, you’re supposed to be the good student between the two of us, man! We can’t both be slacking off!”

“Sorry, Yosuke.”

Before Souji could say anything else, Yosuke suddenly asked, “What do you think about?”

“Hm?”

“When you’re daydreaming all that time—what are you thinking about?”

“Well… I think about last year a lot, and how I wish I was still there with everyone, and I think about recipes I want to make, and movies I want to see, and what I want to do after high school, and… you. Mostly you, actually,” Souji accidentally admitted.

“Me? What about me?”

Now that Souji had let the cat peek its head out of the bag, he wasn’t entirely sure he would be able to keep the rest of it in the bag for much longer.

“I think about all the crazy and terrible and amazing times we had together last year, and how I wish was still there with you. I think about recipes I want to make for you to try, and the faces you’ll make when you’re eating them. I think about movies I want to see, whether or not you would like them, the discussions we would have after we watched them together… I think about how badly I want to do whatever it takes to have more of you in my life after I finish this stupid third year… Yeah, all the time. I think about you all the time.”

“Partner, that’s… um, unexpected. I’m sure someone like you has better things to think about than me.”

Souji shook his head. “No. I don’t. Not more important than you, no.”

“You’re exaggerating, right? To make me feel good?”

“I’m not. Does it make you feel good?”

“Well, yeah, sure it does. Being on someone’s mind makes me feel special, y’know? Especially your mind.”

“You seem surprised, Yosuke. You really don’t have any idea how important you are to me, do you?”

“I guess not? I don't know, it’s just… hard to believe. Do you know why I always make sure we talk to each other like this? I mean, obviously I don’t want you to be lonely, and I want to make sure you’re doing okay, but also like, I just don’t want you to forget me.”

Souji scoffed, immediately covering his mouth afterwards because he definitely hadn’t meant to do that, even if what Yosuke had said was completely ludicrous.

Forget you? With the amount of running around you do in my mind, how on earth could I possibly forget you?

Souji quickly tried to find a way to convey that sentiment to Yosuke in a less creepy way.

“The only way I could ever forget you is if I had a major head injury, like blunt force trauma, and I forgot everything… or, if I, you know, died.”

“Partner! Don’t say shit like that!”

“My problem isn’t forgetting you; my problem is remembering you too much. Seriously, it’s constant. But actually, yeah, no, I don’t want to think of you any less, not really…”

“Heh, is this what it feels like to be flattered? You’re really something else, Partner. Oh hey, I’ve gotta go; my mom’s calling me for dinner.”

“Okay,” Souji sighed, feeling like he had sort of just poured his heart out (in a subtle yet super vulnerable and embarrassing way?), and yet the conversation had not come anywhere close to a satisfying resolution. “Tell her I said hi.”

“Will do! She’ll be thrilled, haha. She’s actually trying out one of the recipes you left her, so I’ll let you know how it goes. Don’t worry though; it’s definitely not gonna be as good as when you make it.”

Souji rediscovered his smile, happy that Yosuke would be thinking about him after he hung up—comparing his mother’s cooking against Souji’s own while he ate, remembering the times Souji had made the dish for him, coming up with an evaluation to share with Souji after the meal was done…

“Your loyalty is appreciated.”

“All right, Partner, thanks for talking to me.”

“Yosuke? I’m sorry if anything I said was too weird.”

“All you ever say is weird stuff, man. I’m used to it.”

“Pfft, okay, bye.”

“Talk to you later!”

Yosuke hung up, and Souji finished off the crane he was working on, setting the red paper bird on his desk in a row with several other red cranes. He took a photo and sent it off to Yosuke with the caption: “It’s like your shirt.”

Satisfied with that, Souji stood up so he could go make his own dinner, but a text from Yosuke stopped him in his tracks.

Instead of a reply about his picture, he opened up an unexpected picture from Yosuke.

It was of his notebook, the one he had been doodling in at the beginning of their conversation.

The first thing that caught his eye was a big-headed (chibi?) doodle of himself (the distinct bowl cut was a dead giveaway) in the middle of the page, holding his sword and wearing his TV World glasses. He also appeared to be on fire? Or maybe that was a representation of Persona power?

Whatever it was, it was adorable.

Souji’s gaze flitted across the full page, his breaths growing more shallow as he took it all in: Izanagi and Jiraiya doing cool(?) action poses next to each other, a bento box that looked very much like the ones Souji used to prepare for Yosuke every day, a half-melted snowman wearing Souji’s grey scarf and Nanako’s Loveline hat, a Mega Beef Bowl from Aiya’s and stick figure versions of all their friends drowning in it…

It took Souji a minute to realize it, but every single doodle across the page was somehow related to himself, and the memories he and Yosuke shared together.

In the bottom corner of the page, one doodle was squeezed in that must have been the last one Yosuke drew. It was the two of them standing side-by-side in front of a house (but it didn’t look like any house that Souji recognized?) with their arms around each other’s shoulders. They were wearing big happy faces, and one of Yosuke’s arms was in the air, as if he was waving.

The circular sun with squiggly rays coming out of it was in the sky above them, smiling and wearing sunglasses, ironically. There was a thing in front of the house that Souji didn’t recognize at first until he saw the bike next to it; it was a half-pipe.

Then Souji squinted at another part of the doodle and zoomed in on the image, not quite believing his eyes.

In the front window of the house, there was a cat peeking through, big and fluffy just like Souji liked.

Was that supposed to be… their house?

“No way,” Souji whispered to himself.

Then he scrolled down to the caption and completely lost his breath.

“I think of you too.”

And with that, Souji’s fate was sealed—he was going to be thinking about Yosuke—his Partner who he was in love with (who thought about him too!)—nonstop for the rest of his life.

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masquerade-story · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter 4 - Memories

Lillian awoke late into the evening, after everyone collectively agreed to take a nap and process everything Crystal told them. Her throat was dry and scratchy, so she carefully rolled out of bed to avoid disturbing Grey, who'd crawled into her bed for comfort like he always did when he was upset, and padded quietly out of the bedroom.

Since there wasn't going to be any sort of heating bill, they'd left the mysteriously working heater on to combat the unexpectedly cold weather. Lillian stopped by a window to peek outside, and was momentarily startled when she could pick out individual leaves on distant trees.

"Right, our vision got all fancy." Lillian laughed softly at herself, turning her gaze from the trees to the starry sky.

An unfamiliar sky.

Three moons scattered across the horizon, a couple of planets close enough for their rings to be distinct to the naked eye, and a brilliant aurora ribbon streaming across more stars than Lillian ever remembered seeing when she looked up back on Earth.

"There's no North Star," she whispered to herself, her warm breath briefly melting some frost on the window glass. "Different constellations, different horoscopes... I wonder how long a year is here? Or a season? Can we... Even communicate with people to find out?"

An oppressive sense of loneliness settled in her chest. Lillian blinked back a few tears and turned away from the window, resuming her earlier mission of a glass of juice. She slipped downstairs into the kitchen, drank an entire glass, and went to bring her second cup upstairs in case she woke up again, when a soft sound caused her to pause mid-step toward the stairs.

Sobbing. Wretched, mournful sobbing, from the living room which currently had no light on.

Lillian felt her heart clench in sympathy, and changed route.

Rayne sat on the couch, curled into the corner with a blanket around her shoulders and a phone in her hands. She glanced up when Lillian approached, hurriedly dashing her tears with the corner of the blanket. "H-hey, what's up?"

Lillian had the sense to put her juice cup down on an end table before sitting heavily on the couch, encroaching on Rayne's personal space with reckless abandon. "I was gonna ask you the same thing. Why are you down here alone in the dark?"

"Oh, I..." Rayne muttered, her gaze flicking back to the phone. Lillian glanced down, and saw a photo of Rayne and her boyfriend trying on mouse hats during their trip to Disneyworld. His expression was exasperated, but his affectionate gaze was fixed on Rayne's laughing face.

Rayne locked her screen and set the phone down, but it was too late and she knew it. She retreated further into the warmth of her blanket, faking a shiver to cover the fact she was trying to hide her face.

Neither Rayne nor Crystal appreciated it when other people saw them cry, but Lillian knew that it was sometimes exactly what someone needed, whether they wanted it or not. So she leaned on Rayne's shoulder, resting a gentle hand on the other woman's knee.

"You know," Lillian said softly, closing her eyes. "There's three moons."

Rayne was quiet for a moment. Then she sniffled, before whispering: "Really?"

"Yeah. And some ringed planets, and an aurora. Wanna see?"

The bundle of blanket shook in a hesitant nod, and both Lillian and Rayne moved to sit on the window seat overlooking the front yard, keeping throw pillows between them and the frozen glass to seal in their bodily warmth.

Silence stretched on between them as they stared together at the foreign night sky. Whenever Rayne gave a soft cry or pained whimper, Lillian reached over to squeeze her hand without turning to look at her, giving the other woman a measure of privacy while still providing comfort until she was ready to talk.

"It's unfair," Rayne whispered finally, reaching out of the blanket to draw a frowning face on the frosty glass.

Lillian nodded. "It ate our bonds so they all forgot us, but we still have to remember them? It's totally unfair."

"Actually..." Rayne looked over, locking gazes with Lillian, her dark brow furrowed. "That's the thing. Lils, do you remember your parents?"

"Of course. Robin and Larry-"

"Their faces, Lils."

Lillian opened her mouth, then immediately shut it. Her curious expression turned to one of realization, then panic suffused with horror. "No, I... What...?"

"I don't remember his face if I'm not looking at the photo," Rayne said, crossing her arms tightly under the blanket. "I don't remember his voice anymore. I did at first, but... Every passing moment, it's harder to remember the times we shared. The bad, the good. Even while looking at the photos! And I just... I felt like I should have a good cry, while I still felt enough lingering emotion for him to do it."

Lillian felt as though her heart was caught in her throat. She swallowed, swallowed again, then wheezed as she tried to remember how to breathe. Rayne hurriedly wrapped her arms around Lillian's shoulder, squeezing tight in a hug that contained all her comfort and sympathy.

"We'll do everything we can to remember, them, okay?" Rayne whispered, her voice shaking with emotion. "Let's go wake Grey and Crystal, then we can all start writing stuff down. Alright?"

Nodding, Lillian clung desperately to Rayne's hand as they both hurried upstairs, rolling their respective siblings out of bed for an emergency meeting. Grey's horror was contrasted starkly by Crystal's numb nodding, as she apologized for not realizing it would happen. They dug into the boxes of personal belongings, finding some notebooks and pens, and sat together in the master bedrooms writing down everything they remembered about Earth and their loved ones until well into the next morning.

"On the one hand it's a mercy," Grey said sleepily, as he doodled another picture of his parents in the margins of his notebook. "So we won't be grieving our loss very long, I guess? But it still feels..."

"Wrong," Lillian mumbled, looking through her phone for a picture of her cat to use as a reference.

"It's not like the time was wasted," Rayne said, adding another bullet point to the list she was writing. "Our experiences shaped who we are whether we remember them or not. It does feel pretty crappy, though..."

"I wonder, will they forget us like this?" Lillian asked, unable to stop the words in her heart from escaping. Her hand paused above the page, the pen in her hand shaking violently. "Will they just... Slowly forget us? Or was it sudden and merciful? Because this... This is cruel."

"Cruelty implies intention," Crystal said softly, her voice shaking almost as much as Lillian's pen. "That... Thing. The Eater. It didn't have any malice, it was just hungry. But I dunno if that makes things better or worse..."

"I dunno man, you ever seen a cat catching prey? Pretty sure eating something alive has some inherent malice in it." Grey grumbled, trying to force his chicken scratch handwriting into something legible.

Crystal, who'd already given up on her own handwriting and embraced the chaotic glyphic nature of her lettering, nodded sagely in agreement. "That's true. I got the impression the Eater wasn't exactly sentient or sapient though. More like a force than a being, if that makes sense? Or maybe I just can't conceive of it, since that thing exists outside our dimensions of understanding."

"You say that so easily, do you even know how wild that whole statement was?"

"Do you even know how wild this whole situation is?"

"Look, we've passed absurdity at this point. Now I'm just down with whatever weirdness comes our way."

"We don't have to pay bills anymore," Rayne said slowly, staring at her paper. Her handwriting was the neatest by far, and she'd finished writing down most important events she could think of, but she kept having a nagging feeling she'd left something out so she kept reading the pages over and over hoping to trigger another memory. "We won't have to buy groceries unless there's things we want specifically that wasn't in our house to begin with. The electricity will never go out, damage to the property will be repaired, and even though we're in a new world with unknown levels of development and technology, we will never have to worry about toilet paper. In exchange for a very comfortable standard of living, we lost our connection to our home and families."

"Personally speaking I think it's fair," Crystal said with a scoff. "But that's because our family sucks so I'll be glad to forget them. All my most important people are here with me! I know Robin and Larry will take good care of all our cats, my exes all sucked, and my other friends will get along just fine without me. I don't have anyone to worry about, just regrets for stuff I never got to do. Like visiting the Grand Canyon, or going on a long cruise."

"I wanted to hike around Europe someday..." Rayne said wistfully.

"I wanted to vacation in the tropics. Or maybe Spain? For like, two years. With some hot guys and infinite fruity alcohols." Grey said, staring off into space with a dreamy look in his eyes.

"I wanted to be famous enough for us to visit the space station," Lillian sighed. Grey snorted, and everyone started laughing in a combination of absurdity and delirium from lack of sleep. They started listing everything they could think of, starting with shopping sprees and game show appearances, and ending with complex bank and casino heists to dismantle capitalism.

When Crystal started dozing off while sitting up, they all agreed to get some sleep for real. The notebooks were stacked lovingly on one of the end tables, which reminded Lillian to run downstairs and chug her long-forgotten cup of juice in the living room before trudging back upstairs into bed.

------

"We can't just stay in the house forever, right?" Grey muttered as he stared out the living room window later that night, curled up on the window seat with his knees hugged to his chest.

"Technically we could," Rayne said, drumming her fingers against the recliner arm as she waited for her laptop to boot. "Infinite food and basic supplies, stuff for our hobbies... We have our instruments, we have our computers and game consoles and several external drives worth of movies and books and music since you and Crystal obsessively insist on collecting or hoarding anything of interest for later use."

"Hey, hey." Grey wagged a finger and feigned an offended scowl. "Look at our situation. How bored would we be if the two of us didn't hoard everything? In fact, maybe our desire to hoard entertainment was preparing for this day!"

"Damn psychics always preparing for everything they couldn't possibly know about," Rayne muttered rebelliously, and Crystal laughed. She'd stretched out on half of the corner couch taking up an entire section of the living room by itself, looking cozy with a pile of blankets and her special edition Switch.

"It's only gonna get worse from here, Ray."

"Open your town, I need to sell my oranges," Lillian interrupted, nudging Crystal's feet from her spot on the other side of the corner couch.

"Alright, lemme finish making this waterfall first."

"Your villagers are never gonna have scurvy again for like, three generations."

"That many oranges? Isn't that a bit overkill?"

"If they don't want an entire island nation's agricultural sector's worth of citrus they should learn to adjust their economy for inflation."

"You know the shop is run by literal children, right?"

"It's good to learn early that nepotism leads to ruin. The business world is harsh and so am I."

Rayne chuckled at the sound of Lillian's low, malicious cackling, but her expression swiftly turned serious. "What do you mean it's gonna get worse, Coco?"

"All four of us have abilities for real, right? Being in this world is gonna make them grow exponentially, whether we try to train them or not. New ones will pop up too, or existing ones will change a little as they grow. Okay Lils, gate's open." Crystal spoke nonchalantly, but every word drained a bit more color from Rayne's face. Meanwhile, Grey turned away from the window with an excited glint in his eyes.

"So psychic powers can get real strong in this world?"

"Yeah. The impression I got when we were coming over was... Magic exists here, and it's something anyone can learn to use with practice. But abilities like ours, psychic powers? Those you have to be born with, and it's rare. That's about as much as I know about it though," Crystal sighed and shrugged.

"Can you list everything you know about our situation?" Rayne said, opening a new document on her computer and typing away with her nose inches from the laptop screen. "I wanna write it all down. I got the thing about our bonds and memories, and the house being indestructible-"

"It's not indestructible, just protected." Crystal seemed startled as soon as the words left her mouth, as though the information was somehow new. She furrowed her brow, nose wrinkling as she carefully examined her thought process. "I see, protected... Like a barrier, almost? It'll always rebuild itself and restock supplies overnight no matter what happens, even if it's all burnt to ash, but the property itself is also shielded unless we draw attention from a big threat."

"A big threat? Like what?"

"I don't know. Big animals like those Nessies on the beach yesterday. Or monsters like the Eater, maybe?"

"Monsters?!" Lillian sat up straight, pulling her feet under her body. "There's monsters!?"

"There's magic, why wouldn't there be monsters too?" Grey pointed out, but his twin just stuck her tongue out at him.

"It's just an assumption," Crystal hurriedly explained. "For my power to work, I'd have to come into contact with stuff related to what I want to know about in order to get more information, I can't just pull stuff out of the ether whenever I have questions!"

"Then how do you know what you know already?"

"Well, we were in contact with the house. The house is made with really powerful magic, so I learned magic exists, and that it was used to make the house echo and ensure our supplies remain the same. I think I also learned about the barrier then, but didn't think about it or really absorb the info cuz I was thinking about other things, so it only just popped up." Crystal shrugged and let out a half-hearted laugh.

"What about the Eater?"

"The Eater was menacing us directly and I looked at it so I was able to get some info on it and the bond-eating shenanigan, but not much else because it's way stronger than me, I think? And my power activated as soon as we started our... Transfer, I guess? Away from Earth. And you all were in the room with me, so I knew you all had powers as well as myself, got the basic gist of how mine work, and that we'd all get much stronger whether we wanted to or not. That's really about it for what I know. I told you it wasn't much."

"Why the house though?" Rayne muttered. "It just wanted to eat our bonds and it did that. So why did it drop us on another planet, and why give us this cushy house echo thing?"

Crystal shrugged again. "I honestly have no idea. I think I could know if I got a lot stronger, but... That won't be any time soon. I can tell there's a reason, though. I just dunno what."

"Maybe it's compensation?" Grey said, his expression hopeful.

"Or bait, like a beacon, so it can find us again..." Lillian whispered with a shiver, and everyone's faces fell. Seeing their reactions, she hurriedly straightened her spine and forced a smile to her face. "But it didn't hurt us, and we're all still together. Imagine if we'd been flung to different planets instead of staying together!"

"That'd really suck," Grey agreed. "So like, Crystal, your power activates if you come into contact with stuff?"

"I think so. I'd have to test it to get the hang of how things work, precisely."

Grey chuckled, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. His expression made the three women exchange worried glances, especially once he started rubbing his hands together like a two-bit cartoon villain. "Looks like we got ourselves an excuse to head to that town for some reconnaissance!"

"In the snow?" Rayne asked, raising her eyebrows.

"With only summer clothes in our wardrobes," Crystal pointed out.

"We wore hiking boots for the walk up here so that'd be fine, but the warmest clothes we have right now are..." Lillian trailed off, then suddenly doubled over and started giggling.

Realization dawned on the others soon after, and Rayne covered her face with her hands. "Oh no."

"Oh yes!" Grey hissed, pumping his fist into the air. "That'll make one heck of an entrance, wouldn't it?"

"Our music video costumes? In PUBLIC!?" Rayne wailed while the others laughed.

"That might not be what we want to do though," Crystal said after her moment of laughter had subsided. "We don't know what kind of world this is. If they'll be friendly to strangers, especially ones who can't speak their language - or any language on this world. They won't know English, you know."

"But do we really have a choice?" Lillian asked, putting down her console and staring up at the ceiling. "We don't know anything about this world. About magic, except that it exists. About the people. And hiding here in our safe cozy house will be fine short term, but what about long term? Are we gonna spend our whole lives holed up in here?"

"I, for one, embrace the forest witch hermit lifestyle," Grey said. "And I know Crystal does too."

"Sure do. Cottage life."

Rayne sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I don't wanna be caught completely off guard by whatever nonsense comes our way. We know it's winter, but we don't know what the other seasons are like yet. What if they have a raining magma and diamonds from the sky season? We can't apply Earth logic here! Or if we can, we don't know to what extent! There were dinosaurs on the beach!"

"That's a fair point. There were indeed dinosaurs on the beach. Counter points?"

"There were dinosaurs on the beach."

"A fair counter point as well. I do want to see the dinosaurs up close."

"From a safe distance."

"Up close from a safe distance, of course."

"Plus, we don't know what's gonna happen with our powers. You said they'll get stronger, what does that mean?"

"I don't know. More powers will manifest, I think? And the ones we have already will be more potent. But I don't know how potent, or what exactly will happen."

"Exactly! You psychically downloaded only a little info about our situation and it gave you a nasty seizure! Right?"

"Pretty much."

"So what if something worse happens? A big huge infodump? If you can't control your powers, or shut it off when needed or whatever, what if..." Rayne's shoulders sagged.

"What if I have a big seizure every time I use my powers now?" Crystal finished, a wry smile on her face. "Yeah, I was wondering about that too. Honestly, everything about our situation has me so terrified I've circled back around to just feeling numb about it all."

"That's a hell of a mood," Grey sighed, stretching out on the window seat and propping his feet up against the wall. "Everything's happening so much, am I right? It's hard to be freaked out about everything simultaneously. It's easier to just phase out of existence, mentally speaking."

"I... Have an idea."

Everyone turned to look at Lillian, who sat perched on the edge of the couch. She glanced at all their faces, then offered a shy smile.

"Well? What's your idea, sis?" Grey encouraged, when his sister kept fidgeting in place instead of finishing her thought.

"Well, those warmer clothes we have... They're our costumes, right? And Crystal said we dunno how people would react to that sort of outfit, or to strangers in general, but what if... I mean... We have our instruments? What if... We pretended to be minstrels?"

#writing #chapter #original #original story #masquerade #fantasy #isekai

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autumnsart22 · 4 years ago

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Chapter 14: Oikawa x reader

Hey! Sorry for the late update, I’ve had a hectic past few days. We’re getting super close to the end of this fanfic, I love you if you’ve stuck with it this long. I think next week’s chapter is going to be the final one so stay tuned :)

Oikawa POV:

During class on Monday, I could barely keep my eyes open. Our teacher seemed to lecture for hours, and every minute seemed to take a week. To occupy myself, I simply stared at Y/n.

It had started when she had first become our manager, when I was trying to get a reading on her and whether or not she would be a good fit for the team. In the end, I just found her a billion times more interesting than anything else.

With my head resting on my palm, I watched her scribble violently on the page in front of her, her head tilted and forehead scrunched up. It didn’t look like she was taking notes, which meant she was probably drawing. I knew that it was a hobby of hers--she always seemed to have lead stains on her finger tips from smudging--but she rarely let me look at any of her work. What I had seen had blown me away, but she always would get all red and flustered if I tried to ask to see more.

It seemed that she was having a particularly hard time with the sketch she was doing now, her hand clenched tightly around the pencil in frustration and an annoyed look on her face. I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing as she began cursing under her breath, erasing violently.

I sighed. How was she so pretty? And what was I going to do? Because being close to her all the time without confessing was looking more and more impossible with every day that went by.

✨✨✨✨

Y/n POV:

The bell rang and I let out a long breath, closing my notebook and packing away my pencils. I glared one more time at the stupid sketch of Iwaizumi and Oikawa, which just didn’t look right! It was something about Iwa’s nose that was off…Since I was in class, I didn’t want to risk using my phone for a reference picture, but I would fix it later.

As I got to my feet, Oikawa came over to stand by my desk, hitching his bag on his shoulder. He had taken off his white blazer and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, his red tie a little loose around his neck.

“God that was so horrendous…” he groaned, running a hand through his hair. I nodded, laughing as he made a face at the teacher. I noticed a few girls glaring at me out of the corner of my eye, but I ignored them. He wasn’t with them right now; he was with me.

I swung my bag over my shoulder, scooping up my sketchbook and following Oikawa out of the classroom. Iwaizumi met us in the crowded hall, glowering at everyone who passed. When he saw us, he looked vaguely relieved, which instantly melted back into annoyance as we started the journey out of the packed space.

We were almost to the door when a first year sprinted around a corner, crashing directly into me. I grunted and dropped my sketchbook, papers scattering everywhere.

“Oh sorry! I’m late to class!” The first year said, not even trying to help me clean up as he took off once again down the hall.

“Hey!” Iwaizumi yelled, looking ready to chase down the students and make him apologize.

“It’s fine,” I sighed, patting his arm and leaning down to start scooping up my papers. Iwa and Oikawa moved to help me, and I felt my heart practically stop as I realized what they would see.

“Wait--!”

Too late. Both Iwa and Oikawa stared at the pictures scattered on the ground, Oikawa’s mouth slightly open and even Iwa’s eyes a bit wide.

They were all of Oikawa.

Ok, maybe not all of them. Some of them were sketches of the whole team, or of Iwaizumi. I had a bunch of all us three, and some just random doodles. But the majority were of Seijoh’s captain, different angles, different styles, color or no color, his hands, his eyes, his hair. Dear god, it was like looking at Oikawa through a many lensed mirror.

I felt my entire body flush, and I quickly began to snatch up the papers as fast as possible, not caring if they crumpled or tore.

“Woah, what are you doing? Be careful with them!” Oikawa said, carefully stacking the drawings and handing them to me in a neat stack. His cheeks were tinted pink, but he smiled widely. “Why are you so red, Chibi-chan? These are amazing!”

“Ugh,” I was so embarrassed I could barely speak. “You-it’s not-you’re just easy to draw!”

Oikawa grinned smugly. “Hear that Iwa-chan? Y/n likes drawing me! Makes sense--I am extremely attractive, after all.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes and smacked Oikawa on the back of the head. “Stupid pretty boy,” he grunted.

My laugh was a bit strained, but I managed to stuff all the papers away before getting to my feet. “Let’s get out of the middle of the hallway.”

As we walked outside, Oikawa turned to me. “Have you ever considered going to art school?”

I blinked in surprise. I had in fact considered applying to a few, but I knew my parents would never let me go. How did he know that?

“A bit but...my parents…”

Both Iwa and Oikawa knew how strict my parents were, and how much I was pressured by them. Oikawa looked frustrated, crossing his arms and stopping in the middle of the path, making Iwaizumi and I turn to look at him.

“What?” I asked.

“I think you should apply, if that’s what you want to do.” He pointed to the sketchbook I clutched close to my chest. “Those are so good, Y/n. You could really do something with your talent.”

I bit my lip. “But--”

Oikawa put his finger on my lips, stopping me from speaking. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. But think about it, ok? It’s your life, not your parents’.”

Later that day, I sat down on my bed and began to research art schools in Japan.

✨✨✨✨

“Alright everyone, circle up!” Coach Nobuteru yelled, and the team dropped their volleyballs and headed over to the bench. I tapped my clipboard with my pen, where I had written out comments for each of the players. “Good job today everyone. We have a practice game coming up, so keep up the good work. I’ll let Y/n give you any comments she has about your form.”

I nodded, smiling. “Everyone has improved so much, I’m so proud of you. I just took a few notes to hopefully help you out.”

I went around and read my comments, which were pretty brief, before letting everyone start cleaning up.

I began picking up extra volleyballs while the boys changed, rolling up the net and packing up my stuff. My team began filtering out, waving to me as they left.

“Have a good day!”

“See you tomorrow!”

I grinned. “Great job again everyone!”

Iwaizumi and Oikawa emerged last, and Iwa told us he had to get home to see his mom. Apparently she had started a new treatment where she needed to be in the hospital far more, so he wanted to see her at home when he could.

I turned to Oikawa, shuffling my feet a little bit. “Um.”

He looked at me curiously. “Yeah?”

“Well I--I don’t know, I was thinking-- I kind of want to um...learn how to serve?”

Oikawa blinked. “You do?”

“Yeah, I just. I don’t know, I always give you guys criticism, but I don’t even know how to play. I know I won’t be very good but I just thought…” I trailed off.

When I glanced up at Oikawa, his eyes were bright and excited. “Oh my god, you’re so cute! I’ll totally teach you how to serve, I’m the best after all.”

I sighed, laughing a little. “Ok then. What do I have to do?”

Oikawa rolled the basket of volleyballs over to the end of the court, showing me how to hold the ball and position myself.

As I expected, I was absolutely horrendous. I hit the net over and over, or my tosses were too weak to even get close. I cursed violently, but Oikawa thought it was hilarious. He was a good teacher, and obviously an excellent server, but I couldn’t seem to get the hang of it.

“Don’t worry, it takes a lot of practice. It took me years to get this good.”

“Ok…” I pouted.

“Here,” Oikawa wrapped his arms around my waist, adjusting my arms and stance. I shivered, the feeling of his muscles flexing behind me making my heart race. “You throw it like this.”

He tossed the ball in the air and spiked it hard over the net. I leaned my head back to look at him and smiled. “I think I’ll leave the serving to you.”

His face was inches away and he gently touched my chin. “Whatever you say, Chibi-chan.”

We packed up the volleyballs and net, and I locked the door as we headed out. The sky had darkened, and I shivered a little as we headed towards the student parking lot.

“What are you doing tonight?” I asked, glancing at Oikawa.

“Ugh, just homework mostly. I have an essay coming up that’s due soon.”

“God--”

“Oikawa-san!” A voice called from behind us. “How are you?”

We both turned, and I clenched my teeth as two pretty girls moved across the grass towards us. I noticed Oikawa grimace before his fake smile was pulled across his face like a mask.

“Hey! I’m doing good. How are you?”

One of the girls giggled. “Great. Are you busy tonight?”

I swallowed, turning away without looking at Oikawa. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Oikawa-san.”

I walked away towards the cars, not looking back. I could hear the girls still talking, but I tugged my beats from around my neck and placed them over my ears to block them out.

As I unlocked my car, I felt a hand on my arm spinning me around. Oikawa gazed down at me imploringly, tugging my headphones off my ears.

“Why’d you leave me like that?” He asked, looking betrayed.

“Huh? I thought you’d want to talk to them.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re so oblivious.”

I raised my eyebrows. “So you didn’t want to talk to them?”

“No, why would I when I have you?”

I went red, hiding a smile. “Ok then.”

Chapter 13

Chapter 15

#oikawa tooru #oikawa #haikyuu oikawa #oikawa fic #haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#haikyu x reader #fanfiction #fandom #fanfic #oikawa fluff #fluff

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hopiewrites · 5 years ago

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Nobody - OHSHC

pairing - host club x reader

ongoing series, chapter 1

word count - 4,595

chapter 2 & 3 up now!

-> back to masterlist

Lost and Found

In front of the doors, she stood still among the crowd of flowing students. The first day of school, it's cold, the sun shines meekly through winters wind, that of which rushes the teenagers into school - bidding them good day.

In the middle of the fading waves of students, a girl fiddled nervously with her sweater sleeve - she stood out like a sore thumb; in her rose pink sweater and black jeans, surrounded by bright lemon gowns and blue suits; she bit the inside of her cheek.

Regardless of her anxiousness, she swallowed her fear, gripping her worn out messenger bag with clenched fists. It's now or never - because if she bailed now, after all the paperwork, and all the preparations, and all the time both she and her mother invested, she wouldn't be able to show her face here ever again. It was then, in front of the large, extravagantly over the top double doors, that she took her first steps into the school that was once distant in her dreams; Ouran Academy.

It was a beautiful place, she thought, even more so than the pictures on the website portrayed. It was an impossibly large place, with the huge fields surrounding it, the smooth pavement walkways to the different entrances and the gardens, to the gates that circled the property. It made her feel small, being engulfed by such architecture and design.

She couldn't wait to visit the gardens in spring.

Inside the halls, the pitter patter of footsteps echoed off the tall walls, painted pristinely, and the ceiling that seemed higher than the sky. The chit chat of students somehow eased her, as she caught snippets of “how are you”s, and “it’s good to see you're doing well”s were exchanged. They sounded like normal people, which, honestly, she felt silly for not expecting. Rich people are, in fact, people. That comforts her for an odd reason.

While looking at a guide she was given, she left in the supposed direction of her new classroom, hoping she doesn't get lost in this maze of a school.

- nobody -

Great. Amazing. Good going, (Y/N).

Lost, is just what she had become. Though, really, who could blame her? All the halls look the same, it seemed they stretched for miles and miles - unending hallways of doom, is what she'd come to call them. All the classes are in session, so nobody's roaming the halls but herself; she's late for class, and is short of breath from running from door to door, already on the third floor, and she can't find her classroom. A nightmare come true.

Then, she heard footsteps. A hopeful flutter rose in her chest.

Turning towards the sound, a boy walked down the hallway - tall, jet black hair, styled pristinely and smoothly; not a strand out of place. He seemed to be looking through a notebook as he walked, holding maybe two or three of them under his arm, his glasses glaring from the light that welcomed it's way through the window.

"Um, excuse me.."

Her fear of missing her first class overcame that of talking to the unfamiliar male. Her hand went to tap the collarbone of hers that peeked out from the neckline of the sweater, a nervous habit she had.

His head lifted, notebook snapping shut - he examined the girl. Now only ten feet away, she saw the steely gray of his eyes and the flecks of brown that peeked through. His head tilted, a curious frown adorned his lips as he questioned, "Yes? Who may you be?"

"I'm, uh-" the stutter on her tongue made her cringe, "I'm the new transfer student, who got the scholarship. I got myself lost while trying to find my class," she exhaled shakily, cursing herself for stumbling over her words.

"Ah," he nodded in understanding, "I see. And you need help to your class?"

"Yes! I mean, if you don't mind." Stepping closer, she showed him the paper she's been grasping - all crinkled up from her grip.

"That's class 3-B, on the second floor. From the stairway, it should only be a few doors or so down."

Oh my god. I totally missed it.

"Oh! Thank you!" A shy smile graced her lips as she stepped back, turning towards the stairs and took off running - almost slipping in the process.

The male watched her retreating form curiously.

- nobody -

One embarrassingly late entry, an annoyed teacher, and a few profuse apologies later, she was settled almost in the middle of the room, surrounded by students who scribbled notes furiously in their notebooks - well, except one girl, who was asleep by the window.

The teacher droned on, and she, bored, doodled in her dollar store notebook. Light pencil lines taking form of random flowers, clouds, eyes, anything that her pencil wanted, she let it do.

After class ended and the teacher left, the students packed their things and began shuffling along; sitting on desks, making small talk, pairing up to go to classrooms together, the like. Since she was looking out the window, copying the birds perched on the branch of a bare cherry blossom tree in her notebook, she saw the once sleeping girl wipe her eyes and yawn - grabbing her bag and heading out with a lazy drag to her step.

Right as the door had closed behind her, only did the girl realize; she left her notebook laying on the desk.

She closed her own, haphazardly tossing her items into her bag, walking over and grabbing the brightly colored thing in her hand. I should probably go give this to her , she thought, and she went to open the door to do just that, but the unnamed girl was out of sight.

Maybe she'll be in another one of my classes. Besides, this is only the first one. Hopefully i'll be able to give this back soon.

- nobody -

The day, unexpectedly, seemed to flow by quickly. She was able to find the rest of her classes relatively easily, and thankfully so, with the help of a few kind teachers. The sun, now, was much lower in the sky, as late afternoon had settled in at the order of the clocks hand. The winter breeze had taken the clouds across the sky, to who knows where, leaving the endless blue clear as crystal.

In the corner of her eye, she caught that familiar head of burgundy turn a corner, so she turned to followed after. That had to be her; the one who'd forgotten her notebook, that is.

There was a lot of people going this way, she noticed - girls with excited grins, the loud chattering and large crowd made it hard to catch up to the clueless girl.

"Hey! 'Scuse me! You forgot this! Um, excuse me!"

It was no use. The echoing of everyone's conversations made it hard for anyone to hear, or be heard - especially with the meek voice she was using. She just decided to follow the crowd, hoping she would get a chance to return what was lost.

They approached a pair of large doors, intricate engravings and swirls decorating it. the talk then became squeals as they opened, the bright overhead lights momentarily blinding, as flower petals flew out in a rush of warm air gracefully.

What the hell?

Seven males stood, charming smiles adorning their handsome features, the middle ones hands outstretched in a grand gesture. His voice, light and welcoming, only stirred up even more excitement.

"Welcome, ladies! to the Ouran High School Host Club!"

Host club? What on earth ?

The excited greetings and squeals of the girls cut off her thoughts, as she stood in bewilderment. They all went in, in bunches at a time, then were led off by one of the males and sat at tables, with tea, cakes, sandwiches, you name it - what was this, speed dating?

As she stood outside the door, brows furrowed in confusion, the lost notebook was held tightly in her grasp. She was unsure of just what it is that she should do. she saw the girl, through the doors now propped open, by the far left to the room by the wide window - with two other girls, and... Twins? Boyfriends? Wait, what-

"Don’t be shy, princess,"

Her free hand was lifted and taken into the palm of another; who then lead her into the room gingerly. The tall blond kissed her knuckles, peering at her confused and shy expression through his long lashes. Violet eyes met with her own starstruck ones.

A deer in headlights is what she reminded him of.

He lowered her hand, keeping hold of it, "princess?"

She snapped out of her frozen state, as a garden of pink bloomed on her cheeks, both shy and unbelievably anxious. "M- uh, me? Oh, um..."

The blond grinned kindly at her timidness; releasing her hand, to place his pointer finger under her chin to raise her lowered head - forcing their eyes to meet once again. "No need to be shy," her breath hitched, too close to him for comfort, "who are you here to see, princess?"

He's already called her princess three times, now. She couldn't be any more uncomfortable.

"N-no," her head shook, and the males hand fell to his side, head tilting in confusion. "I just followed someone here so I could return a notebook they lost... I, I'm not here to see anyone."

Her eyes searched, and landed on just the girl she was looking for; and without a second thought, only desperate to escape this awkward situation she found herself in, she jogged towards the girl and let out a shaky breath. Tamaki stood, left even more confused than anything else.

Unbeknownst to herself, a tall boy with glasses watched her curiously from his spot at a table; eyebrows raised, causing some of his customers to question his unusual actions.

"Excuse me!" She slowed to a stop, tapping the girl on the shoulder, and the two... Twins? Yes, twins, paused what they were doing to both quirk a brow at her interruption. She bowed her head, explaining herself, "I'm so sorry to intrude, but you left your notebook in class earlier this morning."

The girl let out a sound of surprise, and thanked her for returning it. She hadn't even known she was missing it.

"Kaoru, who's this?" One deviously smirked, throwing his arm over the shoulders of his other half. "I don't know, Hikaru. The new scholarship student, perhaps?" A matching smirk, that, for some reason, made her stomach drop as she tried to slowly back away from the devilish twins.

Her back collided with a tray, hot liquid and broken tea cups clattering on the floor along with the clang of the tray hitting marble.

"Oh, gosh! Are you okay, miss?"

She quickly turned around, face red, as she had gotten the attention of the rooms occupants, curious gazes burning into her like fire. Her skin itched with embarrassment.

"Oh, oh my gods! I'm so sorry! Here, let me clean it up.." She dropped to her knees with a thud, picking up shards of broken porcelain, the design of flowers and delicate gold now nothing but trash of what they once were. The guilt she felt was suffocating.

The male, a bit shorter, with large hazel eyes and chocolate hair, kneeled down to help, a polite smile on his face as he assured her it was alright. Another, who she assumed to be, host kneeled down with a few napkins and a broom in hand, a stoic face kept as he helped clean.

After the mess was dealt with, all eyes remained on her; she didn't know what to do. Her face was hot with hues of red - she fiddled with her fingers, unsure of what to say.

"Hey, isn't that the commoner who won the scholarship recently?" A girl spoke. A hum of “ohhs,” washed over the room, and with that, chatter started rolling in.

"Ohh, I heard that she won through an art program!", and "she couldn't even afford a uniform?", and "she's so clumsy. I wonder what she thinks she's doing here."

This, though, made a certain blond beam. New opportunities to learn about commoners and their way of life was something he always welcomed, and it was that very thought that he had while he walked up to the girl, who seemed to be caving in on herself in this moment.

Kyoya decided to talk to her about how she'll pay them back for the broken teacups later. She's flustered enough as it is, he supposed.

"Ah, yes! A commoner! Tell me, How-"

"Uhm, I, I'm sorry! I have to go!"

One deep bow and a fast spoken apology later, she sprinted out of the room, down the hall, and down flights of stairs. She sprinted the way home, that day - overwhelmed out of her mind - trying to outrun her anxious feelings.

Tamaki stood, a mischievous smile on his face.

(maybe those shady twins have rubbed off on him, after all.)

- nobody -

The club room, now emptied of customers, was lit only by the light that danced its way through the window as the hosts sat, gathered around, beckoned by the king himself.

Kyoya sighed at his dear friends antics.

"Guys, I really think we should leave her alone. She obviously didn't mean to come here in the first place, so, senpai, let's just let her be." Haruhi, bless her, felt this odd need to stick up for the girl; having been in just her situation before, she understood, she did - though, she also understood Tamaki's unyielding curiosity and need to befriend literally everyone. She sweatdropped as she silently apologized to the new girl in advance.

Tamaki stood from his seat on the couch, mouth opening, ready to state his claim - but of course, the twins beat him to it.

"Now, now, Haruhi," Kaoru's airy voice started, "she caused such a scene. And broke our brand new tea cups!" Hikaru continued, then both chimed "she has to do something about this," shrugging nonchalantly in sync.

"Ah, yes, that commoner ruined our fine china. It's only natural we have her pay us back, correct?" Kyoya added, adjusting his glasses smartly; sparing a glance at the sulking Tamaki, who's crouched on the floor with a pout. "I'll make sure I see to it."

And just like that, Tamaki's mood did a 180, as he jumped up and propped his head in his hand - eyes sparkling with something akin to excitement. "Yes! She does have to pay us back after all," he flicked his blond hair with his index finger, "and besides, I'm curious as to who the new commoner is. Kyoya, do you know?"

"Well, from the records I've read through, her name is (L/N) (F/N). She's here on a scholarship, her studies focusing on the arts," with cool confidence he spoke, collected as ever, as he skimmed through the documents pulled up on his laptop.

"Oh! So (N/N)-chan's an art student?" Honey chimed. His curiosity spiked, wondering of what her works would look like. He hugged usa-chan to his chest tightly, perched on Mori's shoulders.

"It appears so. Actually, I ran into her on the 3rd floor hallway this morning, she was late, running through the halls searching for her classroom. She seems a bit... Scattered, to say the least," his laptop closed with a snap, then he placed it away in his carry on. "I will talk to her tomorrow." He added, exasperatedly.

"Actually, Kyoya," Tamaki added, voice soft and confident, "bring her to the host room to discuss the matter. I want to chat with her myself, as well." Kyoya withholds a sigh, nodding his head at the leader.

"Alright, hosts! Meeting adjourned!"

Haruhi, unlike Kyoya, sighed heavily. Tomorrow was going to be another eventful day.

- nobody -

Home, finally home.

Kicking her vans off, she walked into the small apartment. A bit messy, with a few cups on the coffee table and loose papers and letters that was scattered over the surface - a basket of socks sat on the couch, waiting to be put away.

She ignored all that, and crashed in her room with a grunt of relief. Changing into more comfortable clothes, she made her way to the kitchen, and peered out the small window by the sink, letting the fiery oranges and inky blues of the on-coming night sky give her comfort. The cold water from the faucet chilled her hands, then she went to work making her mother lunch for work tomorrow. She'll probably be asleep before the woman returns, so she thought she might as well go ahead and prepare it.

The apartment, quiet, save for the drying machine that hums and bumps every now and then, was warm. Her cat was curled up on her pillow, her garden box sat at the window sill looked happy and full of life, if not for the few browning leaves here and there. The crystals sat on her nightstand contentedly, the carpet under her feet welcomed her - she was glad to be home.

She lied on her bed, her head beside the sleeping feline on the side of it, who started purring at her arrival.

She fell asleep, on top of the blankets, to the sound of the cars driving by, her noisy drying machine, and the purr of her cat.

The moon bid her goodnight from outside the window.

- nobody -

At least today, she didn't get lost again; she made sure to memorize her classes and what floors they were on, so when lunch came around this time, she knew exactly where to go, thankfully.

Today she wore a muted yellow sweatshirt and light washed jeans rolled up a few times at her ankles, making a clear effort to not stick out so much in the sea of yellow and blue - feet clad in the same worn out vans she always wore.

The lunch hall buzzed with chatter, students happily munching on their overpriced trays of food, gathered in their little cliques. She looked around the large room for a moment, then went and settled at an empty table, close to the exit, and pulled out a small lunch bag. Inside was a peanut butter sandwich she threw together hurriedly this morning, along with a small bag of pretzels and a bottle of strawberry milk.

The slight shake of her cold hands made it a bit difficult to open the milk bottle, but when she finally managed to open it, she gulped.

Forgot to drink water this morning, oops.

Squeals suddenly erupted from all around the cafeteria, making the girl jump, almost spilling the flavored drink - looking towards the door, she saw just what she expected to see;

Those boys from yesterday. She wondered, just what is it about them that everybody gets so excited for? Why're they such a big deal? Well, yeah, they're handsome, but honestly, what else are they? Playboys? She just wanted to eat her lunch in peace-

Someone cleared their throat from the other side of her, "Excuse me, (Y/N)?" She turned to face them - oh! It's the boy from the hallway. She gave a small smile.

"Oh! Hello. Yeah?"

"Allow me to introduce myself," she felt the stares of multiple others on her, and to be perfectly honest, it made her skin crawl. How does he know her name, anyway?

"I'm Ootori Kyoya, the manager of the Host Club."

...Oh. Oh shit. Her eyes widened.

"I believe you were there yesterday, correct?" The way he spoke, cooly, confidently and like he was better than herself - she didn't like it one bit. She nodded reluctantly.

"So I'll presume you know why i’m here," another nod. "you're responsible for breaking property of the club, you see, so I'll have to ask you to replace what was lost."

Her heart dropped. From what she could tell of the broken pieces of porcelain on the floor yesterday, it looked expensive. There’s no way she could afford to replace it. She has bills to pay, food to buy.

"I'll now ask you to come to the club room, Music room 3, to discuss on how the damage will be paid after school ends. Is this alright with you?" His glasses glinted in the light, the polite smile on his face did nothing to comfort her - chills grew on her arms.

She nodded again, tongue refusing to cooperate.

"Alright, well, we'll see you then, miss (Y/N)." And with that, he struts away - she glared at his retreating back.

She felt as if she'd just seen the devil. Why? Maybe it was how businessman-like he was, his mask of politeness didn't set right with her - felt as if the male in front of her wasn't really there, if that makes any sense. As if conversing with a mannequin.

She shook her head, and sighed at her loss of appetite. Maybe she'll go ahead and go to her next classroom.

Haruhi glanced at her with understanding.

- nobody -

She stared out the window at the end of the hallway, in front of the dreaded host club doors. Outside the sun hung low, barely managing to shine through the clouds that covered sky; no birds were seen, as the first few raindrops tapped on the window.

I can’t avoid this for forever. Let's go.

With a moment of false bravery, she opened the door and peeked around the crack - to see all the hosts lounging and conversing among themselves.

The one she bumped into the other day, Haruhi, is what she'd heard them call him, wore a deadpan expression as the tall blond was chasing the twins around the room, who cackled as they ran. A shorter blond was sat with a very tall male at a table, sharing vanilla cake with a smile on his face. Well, the tall one was hard to read, but the blond looked pretty happy. Then there was Ootori - sitting at a table with his laptop perched open, tapping away, a concentrated frown rests on his features.

Gulping down the nervous lump in her throat, she spoke in a timid voice; "excuse me... I was asked to come here,"

All the hosts stopped what they were doing and looked to the girl, standing in the doorway with a nervous flush on her face.

The shorter blond verbally awww ed at the sight, swallowing his mouthful of cake and skipping towards the girl. "You must be (Y/N)-chan, right?"

She nodded.

"Oh! Welcome, sit down. Haruhi, be a dear and go get this lady some coffee!" Haruhi growled at Tamaki under her breath, these damn rich people.

She cracked a small smile at that, "No! No, it's fine. You don’t have to. Uhm," she walked deeper into the room, eyes exploring the empty space. Her eyes, once again, met pools of warm violet; she averted her gaze quickly. He frowned.

"Actually, Ootori asked me to come here," said male smirked, closing his device, "also, while I'm here," she paused to bow, looks of confusion played across the expressions of the hosts, "I wanted to apologize for breaking the tea set. I'm not sure how I could repay you, but-"

A warm hand on her shoulder, standing her up right interrupted her apologetic rambling - it was that boy again. I still don’t know his name, do I?

"Fear not, dear commoner, don’t worry about the tea cups! I just wanted to talk to you abou-"

Suddenly, two pairs of hands pried the obnoxious male away from her, arms linked over each others shoulders as he flopped on the ground dramatically behind them. She raised her eyebrows.

"You know, those tea sets are expensive,"

"We got them imported all the way from Scotland, you know? It’s a shame they were broken,"

The smirks on the two auburn's faces made her stomach drop.

"Guys, stop scaring her," Haruhi interrupted their little charade, smiling sympathetically at the girl in front of her. "Don't worry, (Y/N). We'll figure something out, don’t let these two dimwits get to you," she sent a quick glare at said dimwits, and the girl instantly felt relieved. Haruhi was comforting to talk to, so her nerves were eased.

"Yes, indeed we will," ah, there he is, the man of the night: Mr. Businessman. She turned her head towards him, who slowly walked over to where she stood with Haruhi and the twins. "Now, either you can pay us back, or, you could help around the club for awhile, until you've settled your debt."

"Helping out as in washing dishes, fetching groceries, making the food, and the likes. Not hard tasks."

She frowned. That wasn't good. She has a part time job to work at, there is literally no time for after school housekeeping.

"Are you sure there isn't anything else I could do? I could pay it off, but it would take a few months.." She trailed off, thinking in silence for a moment. If she put a little of her paycheck up each week, it would only take 3-4 months to pay it off. But she really, really needs that extra cash. "I work after school most days, so I don’t really have time to stay after classes. Um.. Maybe I could come in early each morning instead to do the chores? Would that be okay?"

Kyoya listened carefully, nodding as she spoke. Where do commoners get the time to work like that? And attend school?

"Yes, I suppose that would be okay. I'll have a to-do list made. Oh, you'll need keys to get in early. I can get those made soon. When shall you start?"

Tamaki didn't like any of what he was hearing. He quickly wondered how Kyoya could make the girl come in early after knowing she had to work after school. His compassionate heart got the better of him in that moment, a frown present on his handsome features as he stepped next to his friend and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"But you have to work after school, right, (Y/N)? Are you really okay with coming in so early?"

She froze for a moment. Why was he pitying her? She's only repaying a debt. She clenched her jaw for a moment, breathed in, and attempted to relax. He waited for her answer.

In all honesty, no. She's gonna be dead tired by the time she has to work, but what options does she have? She's already made up her mind. It'll only be for a little while that she'll be doing this. Only for a few months. Then it'll be over, just like that. It'll be over soon.

With newfound determination, she met Kyoya's steely eyes with a smile - at which his eyes widened for only a moment at. He smirked at her.

"Yes, I'm sure. Thank you for the concern, but I need to repay this debt." She answered Tamaki, not taking her eyes off Kyoya's. She treated this as a challenge - and Kyoya was more than amused, to say the least.

Haruhi was shaking her head at the whole ordeal.

"I can start next week. Is that alright with you, Ootori?" And just like that, she averted her eyes again. Back into the socially awkward hunch of her shoulders, she sighed softly.

"Yes, that's quite alright."

And with that, the girl had been thrown into a completely different world; one that would rip her away from her shell and into the world of the eccentric Host Club.

#ohshc #ohshc x reader #tamaki x reader #tamaki suoh x reader #kyoya ootori x reader #kyoya x reader #kyouya #haruhi fujioka x reader #haruhi fujioka #nobody - chapter 1 #series #hopiewrites #hitachiin brothers #kaoru hitachiin x reader #hikaru hitachiin x reader #nobody

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basscannonjack · 4 years ago

Note

1-100 SPEED RUN

Ama. How could you do this to me

1: when you have cereal, do you have more milk than cereal or more cereal than milk?

Lactose intolerant, only eat cereal dry

2: do you like the feeling of cold air on your cheeks on a wintery day?

yes, but not for too long

3: what random objects do you use to bookmark your books?

i just try to remember lmao

4: how do you take your coffee/tea?

don’t like coffee, drink tea plain or with some sugar

5: are you self-conscious of your smile?

not as much as I used to be!

6: do you keep plants?

I have one (1) cactus that I haven’t killed in the 9 years I’ve had it

7: do you name your plants?

sometimes!

8: what artistic medium do you use to express your feelings?

music or writing

9: do you like singing/humming to yourself?

ALWAYS

10: do you sleep on your back, side, or stomach?

I generally fall asleep on my stomach and wake up on my back

11: what's an inner joke you have with your friends?

I HAVE YOU NOW

12: what's your favorite planet?

Neptune, probably!

13: what's something that made you smile today?

my SON asking me ALL THE QUESTIONS

14: if you were to live with your best friend in an old flat in a big city, what would it look like?

oh god, probably a bit of a mess

15: go google a weird space fact and tell us what it is!

the ISS was launched on the day of my birth, so it’s been in space *literally* my entire life

16: what's your favorite pasta dish?

just plain ol’ chicken alfredo

17: what color do you really want to dye your hair?

keeping it silver baybeee

18: tell us about something dumb/funny you did that has since gone down in history between you and your friends and is always brought up.

oh man, there are so many, but i’ll go with the time that Roman got coke to fizz through my nose by making me laugh too hard

19: do you keep a journal? what do you write/draw/ in it?

no journal, only very similar looking notebooks to doodle and write in

20: what's your favorite eye color?

hazel!

21: talk about your favorite bag, the one that's been to hell and back with you and that you love to pieces.

my Bag of Holding! snapped the clasp on it a few years back though

22: are you a morning person?

not at all!

23: what's your favorite thing to do on lazy days where you have 0 obligations?

SLEEP

24: is there someone out there you would trust with every single one of your secrets?

Ashe, of course

25: what's the weirdest place you've ever broken into?

I had to break into my own safe at my old job, does that count?

26: what are the shoes you've had for forever and wear with every single outfit?

I’d say my boots, but I just got a new set, so the older ones

27: what's your favorite bubblegum flavor?

Spearmint or wintergreen

28: sunrise or sunset?

Sunrise

29: what's something really cute that one of your friends does and is totally endearing?

I just love seeing my friends blush

30: think of it: have you ever been truly scared?

yes, I won’t go into detail

31: what is your opinion of socks? do you like wearing weird socks? do you sleep with socks? do you confine yourself to white sock hell? really, just talk about socks.

SOCKS SOCKS SOCKS I used to collect weird socks, now I just have a bunch of fun dress socks lmao

32: tell us a story of something that happened to you after 3AM when you were with friends.

driving everyone home at 4 am and seeing other people on the road and going “you should be in bed!” at them

33: what's your fave pastry?

lemon meringue pie

34: tell us about the stuffed animal you kept as a kid. what is it called? what does it look like? do you still keep it?

Teddy a winnie the pooh bear that I still have!

35: do you like stationary and pretty pens and so on? do you use them often?

I adore new pens

36: which band's sound would fit your mood right now?

uhhhh I’ve been listening to a lot of Rise Against and ABBA lmao

37: do you like keeping your room messy or clean?

messy

38: tell us about your pet peeves!

nearly anything my brother does

39: what color do you wear the most?

black or blue

40: think of a piece of jewelry you own: what's it's story? does it have any meaning to you?

my claddagh ring from my grandmother, i don’t have much else from her

41: what's the last book you remember really, really loving?

not the last book but there was one about a girl having a single dragon finger that I remember reading so many times that I unfortunately don’t know the name of, or the Tamora Pierce Lioness series

42: do you have a favorite coffee shop? describe it!

Don’t like coffee!

43: who was the last person you gazed at the stars with?

James <3

44: when was the last time you remember feeling completely serene and at peace with everything?

I do not :’)

45: do you trust your instincts a lot?

not as much as I probably should

46: tell us the worst pun you can think of.

I’ve been changing my username to a different halloween themed pun for all of October, I’m all burnt out

47: what food do you think should be banned from the universe?

Balut, it icks me out

48: what was your biggest fear as a kid? is it the same today?

heights, and yes :’)

49: do you like buying CDs and records? what was the last one you bought?

I got a record player fairly recently, I have some P!atD ones, Foo Fighters, and Imagine Dragons

50: what's an odd thing you collect?

rocks

51: think of a person. what song do you associate with them?

Bitch by Meredith Brooks for my eldest sister

52: what are your favorite memes of the year so far?

the ones we’ve made in our server

53: have you ever watched the rocky horror picture show? heathers? beetlejuice? pulp fiction? what do you think of them?

all of the above except Pulp Fiction, I’m not really a movie person but I *am* a musical person

54: who's the last person you saw with a true look of sadness on their face?

my dad

55: what's the most dramatic thing you've ever done to prove a point?

Cotton Eyed Joe in six inch heels

56: what are some things you find endearing in people?

honesty and passion in an interest

57: go listen to bohemian rhapsody. how did it make you feel? did you dramatically reenact the lyrics?

I just vibe and belt, y’know

58: who's the wine mom and who's the vodka aunt in your group of friends? why?

can they both be me

59: what's your favorite myth?

the soup with a rock in it!

60: do you like poetry? what are some of your faves?

Where the Sidewalk Ends was always a good one

61: what's the stupidest gift you've ever given? the stupidest one you've ever received?

a coffee cup drinking horn for my dad, and some painted rocks from my brother

62: do you drink juice in the morning? which kind?

it would be apple juice if I did

63: are you fussy about your books and music? do you keep them meticulously organized or kinda leave them be?

not at all

64: what color is the sky where you are right now?

greyish, the sun is just about to rise

65: is there anyone you haven't seen in a long time who you'd love to hang out with?

My eldest sister

66: what would your ideal flower crown look like?

ROSES

67: how do gloomy days where the sky is dark and the world is misty make you feel?

give them to me, I love them

68: what's winter like where you live?

COLD

69: what are your favorite board games?

Monopoly and LIFE

70: have you ever used a ouija board?

no thanks

71: what's your favorite kind of tea?

raspberry or orange for fruit and mint

72: are you a person who needs to note everything down or else you'll forget it?

no, but I do write things down anyways

73: what are some of your worst habits?

I lose things all the time

74: describe a good friend of yours without using their name or gendered pronouns.

STARDUST SOULMATE

75: tell us about your pets!

I have a Min Pin named Lily

76: is there anything you should be doing right now but aren't?

Sleeping

77: pink or yellow lemonade?

pink

78: are you in the minion hateclub or fanclub?

*insert ick emoji*

79: what's one of the cutest things someone has ever done for you?

decorated my band locker to celebrate my birthday

80: what color are your bedroom walls? did you choose that color? if so, why?

beige, but I hung up a bunch of posters!

81: describe one of your friend's eyes using the most abstract imagery you can think of.

when the sun hits very rich dirt where a tree used to be

82: are/were you good in school?

best in class in math with a 101.8 but I also rarely did homework so uh

83: what's some of your favorite album art?

Too Weird To Live, Too Rare To Die

84: are you planning on getting tattoos? which ones?

Dragon on the shoulder blade, roses on the left arm, Exalt on the right

85: do you read comics? what are your faves?

webcomics! Barbarous, currently

86: do you like concept albums? which ones?

:? not sure what that means

87: what are some movies you think everyone should watch at least once in their lives?

TREASURE PLANET

88: are there any artistic movements you particularly enjoy?

nope!

89: are you close to your parents?

my dad!

90: talk about your one of your favorite cities.

don’t really have a favorite, in all honesty

91: where do you plan on traveling this year?

I was supposed to go see Ashe for their birthday but maybe next year!

92: are you a person who drowns their pasta in cheese or a person who barely sprinkles a pinch?

CHEESE CHEESE CHEESE

93: what's the hairstyle you wear the most?

uhhh it’s usually short enough to do nothing lmao

94: who was the last person you know to have a birthday?

I have a friend’s bday tomorrow!

95: what are your plans for this weekend?

WORK

96: do you install your computer updates really quickly or do you procrastinate on them a lot?

bit of both

97: myer briggs type, zodiac sign, and hogwarts house?

INTP, Scorpio, Ravenclaw

98: when's the last time you went hiking? did you enjoy it?

last year? maybe the one before? I did! but my heart didn’t

99: list some songs that resonate to your soul whenever you hear them.

How Far We’ve Come, Matchbox Twenty

The Call, Backstreet Boys

I2I, from the Goofy Movie Soundtrack (lmao)

100: if you were presented with two buttons, one that allows you to go 5 years into the past, the other 5 years into the future, which one would you press? why?

the future! I’ve had my time in the past, no changing it now

#ama i love and care about you so much darlin'#but this pains me #my dear sunchild

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by-nina · 5 years ago

Text

Years and Years

A Royai fanfic Rating: M (sexual content) Genre: Romance Word Count: 2,048

A/N: Hello everyone I miss writing and I miss Royai! And I was feeling both soft and very spicy so this is what came out of it. Y’all know how much I love taking them back to the Hawkeye manor.

“For starters, the last time I saw you here, I had you burn my back. And before that, I was both an orphan and my father’s successor to you. I don’t know how I should see you, Roy Mustang; you’re a different person every time you’re here, even now.”

There is a four-hour drive from Central to the Hawkeye manor at the outskirts of East City. What was once a dirt road that barely saw visitors to the old house welcomes Riza one morning, and it is only then that the finality of her visit sinks in for the first time. A young family had bought the house three months ago, with the promise that they would manage and spend for the renovations themselves. Her only purpose is to collect some old things of hers and her father’s, and maybe get a bit of cleaning done as courtesy to the family.

Roy had decided to come along without question, or even any kind of discussion. She had simply mentioned the purchase in passing one day, and then her planned visit, and under a still-dark sky that morning, he showed up outside her apartment with his car. It made perfect sense, Riza reasoned. He might have left some of his own things during his time as her father’s student, and he would have more use than she would for whatever research materials her father had left behind. Above all, it’s a huge house—she needs the company and help.

“We’re here, sir.”

He is already awake, but he has difficulty opening his eyes. Riza decides not to wait for him, and she steps out just to look at the old house. She breathes as slowly as she takes it all in. There is a heaviness about it, like a weary weight on tired shoulders. Since her departure for the military, her presence has been replaced by that of overgrown vines and weeds. Despite all this, it hasn’t changed much; the structure still seems solid and functional. Nothing that a fresh coat of paint, new wood trimmings, and landscaping couldn’t fix.

Roy joins her in gazing up at the house. “So this is it, then. Shall we get to work?”

“A ten-minute break won’t hurt.”

“No, no, I’m in perfect shape.” Roy swings and stretches his arms. “That nap for half of the trip helped a lot.”

“I couldn’t let you drive all the way, though, could I? You’ve already done me a huge favor by coming along.”

Riza finally takes her eyes off the house, and as she turns, she’s greeted by a smile that she wallows in greedily, and then guiltily. The warmth that rises in her cheeks is damning in the cool early morning breeze. Thankfully, Roy grants her another favor by not remarking on it. “Come on.”

Every part of the house seems to creak as they enter—the fence, the door, the floorboards. The interiors aren’t as bad as Riza expected. Other than a few mold spots on the upholstery and a layer of dust on the remaining furniture, everything seems to be intact and functional. Of course, it isn’t as if she had left the house entirely untouched once she entered the military. She has dropped by now and again just to make sure it hadn’t fallen to ruin, and the young family has seen it for themselves—there are spots where the dust has been disturbed on the hardwood floors.

“So, where should we start?”

“Hmm.” Riza pauses for a moment. “There’s not a lot down here. I’ll go through the living room and the kitchen—you can start with my father’s study.”

Roy clicks his tongue. “All right.”

Clearing the ground floor is an easy half-hour task, as there are very few things on display that could be considered sentimental. Riza takes the only three pictures in the living room—the last Hawkeye family photo, a solo portrait of her mother, and herself as a baby with her mother—then she proceeds to the kitchen, which is far more promising. She recovers some brass pots and pans, an heirloom dining set with matching silverware, and wooden cooking utensils. Riza gathers these into a box and places them in the trunk of Roy’s car, and then she heads upstairs to check on his progress in the study.

She pokes her head through the door. “How are you doing, Colonel?”

He is crouching by the bottom of a crowded bookshelf at the back of the room, carefully absorbing each title. This is the first thing that takes Riza back to a vivid memory of her childhood, when a much younger Roy first became acquainted with Berthold Hawkeye. Shirt half-tucked, hair standing at the back—she can see the boy there almost as clearly as the man.

“Well, the libraries in Central would cough up a fortune for a collection like this, and this shelf is all just general alchemy titles,” says Roy as he straightens up. He has a tattered book in hand that Riza didn’t notice right away. “You have stuff on philosophy over there, and biology in two full shelves there—that’s not yet getting into physics and chemistry, which is of course a lot more extensive since your father studied flame alchemy, and…”

He trails off at the sight of Riza, who has become a picture of amusement—leaning against the doorway with her arms crossed, eyebrows raised, and a smirk lifting one corner of her lips. Roy clears his throat. “Anyway, I’ll try to finish this quickly.”

“Take your time, we have a long day ahead of us.”

Riza’s gaze is then drawn to a door at the end of the hallway. The sight of it alone is enough to fill her with nostalgia, enough to know that she needs to take precisely twelve steps to reach it. She opens the door, and she is all that has changed about the room.

There are a few old books on her dresser and on a shelf that also holds a few memories of schoolgirl days—certificates from school and notebooks filled with both learnings and idle doodles, a few photos here and there, but nothing too personal—they come from official portraits like those from her graduation days, and class photos at assemblies. There’s an old porcelain lamp and her mother’s hairbrush on her nightstand. In her bedframe is a mattress long stripped bare, spotted with mold.

She enters the room as if it were a sleeping beast she doesn’t want to wake. Only her reflection in a tall mirror startles her, but it might have something to do with the unfamiliarity of her freshly cut hair, which is once again as short as it was in her younger years. In contrast, the way she sinks as she sits at the end of her mattress is still a very familiar feeling. Riza is content to stare at the dusty curtains ahead of her for a while, until she is interrupted by the approach of Roy’s heavy footsteps.

“So,” he says, slowly entering and examining the room, “this is the bedroom of young Miss Hawkeye.”

She simpers as she turns to watch him. “You know, it’s not appropriate for strange adult men to enter young girls’ bedrooms like that.”

“No!” Roy clutches his chest in mock pain. “I can’t believe you still consider me a stranger after all these years.”

“Well, I’m open to suggestions. What should I consider you?”

“It’s simple, really.” He takes a few careful steps to the side of Riza’s bed, then hesitates for only a few seconds before sitting in a spot perpendicular to hers. The mattress groans as it accommodates his weight. “When you’ve known someone for nearly all your life, you’ll eventually realize how you truly see them. It could go one way or the other.” A pause. “I realized that about you long ago, Riza.”

Riza ignores the swooping in her chest. She laughs wistfully, her eyes cast downwards.

“Oh, I don’t know. For starters, the last time I saw you here, I had you burn my back. And before that, I was both an orphan and my father’s successor to you. I don’t know how I should see you, Roy Mustang; you’re a different person every time you’re here, even now.”

“Am I really just one of those things to you?”

She looks up to find a knowing and hopeful expression on his face. He doesn’t need to ask; Riza knows exactly what he means by asking the question that he did. But surely he knows that she needs him to take the lead—that she has kept far too many hard truths to herself for honesty to be easy?

Roy reaches for her hair without warning, raising goosebumps as his hand brushes against her nape. She is made aware again of how short her hair is now, cursing how exposed it leaves her feeling. Riza swallows hard, visibly. Somehow, it’s just the push that her nerves needed.

“You’re not,” she whispers. “You haven’t been for a long time.”

Suddenly, they’re face to face within an inch of each other. Riza leans in to close the gap, with their foreheads touching first, and then their noses. And then, only hesitation hangs between their lips. The moment stretches out with Roy taking a last lingering look at her features up close. Still, it’s he who kisses first, soft and cautious.

There are a million lines that they have crossed to find themselves here, and the kiss does not answer when or how those lines were crossed. Ishval, the move to Central, the Promised Day—there's no point in figuring it out now. It's only one of many things that they have never needed to discuss, but somehow already knew. Still, even as Riza kisses him back, Roy pulls away with a deep breath. “Is this okay?”

She responds by kissing him again and nodding eagerly—then her hands reach for him, one tugging at his button-down and the other taking his hand up the split in her skirt. Roy takes his cue; he guides her back down to the bed and her legs along the length of it. He is careful with his weight as he settles on top of her. All the while, their kisses become more fervent, greedier, until every little movement they make is lost in a flurry of reflex actions that are unrehearsed, but familiar from years of being side by side.

When he finally enters her, Riza freezes for a brief moment as she is seized by the most tantalizing waves. She helps him find his pace by moving against him as well. Slow, then a little faster, then slow again—there is a different kind of pleasure at each pace, as well as some pain to work around. They find more places to kiss each other and place their hands, and at the sound of each other's moans and shuddering breaths, she becomes wetter and he throbs in anticipation.

They settle on a certain tempo as they begin their final climax. Riza can no longer tell where it aches or stings, but the impending pleasure takes her mind off it.

“Please, Roy—please—ahh—”

Roy is moaning her name as she comes, and then again, until the waves stop and leave her spent. He thrusts a final time and then finally pulls out, deflating on top of Riza. For a minute, they are nothing but sweaty bodies, panting, and a plesant residual buzz. The wetness spreads onto the mattress. She holds him close, fingers in his hair.

He settles into the spot next to her once he recovers. Roy kisses her forehead, and then her shoulder, and then her hand—and then he doesn't let it go. She inches into him until she cannot get any closer, and they are face to face again. Riza is the first to smile. He laughs, and it's the first new thing she has seen about him in a while. The second is his voice as he asks, “For how long?”

She touches his face with her free hand. “Years.”

Roy closes his eyes solemnly and nods once against the mattress.

“Years.”

He lets go of her hand then, pulling her close instead. There will be more questions about where this leaves them, Riza is sure—many of them to be dealt with once they return to their daily working lives at Central. But while they are there, she decides that this is all that matters: she is falling asleep in her old house for the last time, and in Roy’s arms for the first.

#Fullmetal Alchemist #Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood #FMA #FMAB #Roy Mustang #Riza Hawkeye #Royai #fanfiction #fanfic #one-shot #romance #smut #lemon #cw: smut #cw: lemon #writing #written by nina

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