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takuyakistall · 3 years

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romeo!

Chapter 1

Synopsis: Ace Trappola from the Trappola Kingdom, there was no doubt that he was a great man that was destined to achieve glory in a few years' time. But, there was one tiny problem. Being a prince from his own country meant that he needed to marry a lady from a prominent household. With much reluctance, he ended up choosing a princess from a neighbouring country—only to find out that the Prince of the Spade Kingdom has his eyes set on her as well. Is this... Competition?

Tags: Fem!Reader, Royalty AU, mentions of death, kidnapping, anything else you would find in a romance manhwa

Note: This piece is purely self indulgent and I plan on writing more for it! But I decided to share the first chapter here. There's no action yet so this is just some build-up.

Ace Trappola was never one to abide by the silly little rules of etiquette, he always thought that they were too nitpicky and stiff ever since he was a little boy. He thought that it was useless to keep up appearances for the sake of his reputation—until he experienced firsthand how cruel high society could be to a mere child who had made a single mistake. Of course, they would never dare to utter a single word in fear that their tongues would be cut off by his Highness, the king. But he would never ever forget the cold gazes that laid upon him as soon as he turned his back.

Which is why he donned a mask. He wore it all day and night as a child, hoping that it would be indestructible as he grew up but that brought him nothing but more of the empty and hollow feeling he hated. Despite already being so well-mannered, so educated, and so charming—he was nothing more than the second prince of the country who always seemed to be overshadowed by his older brother, the first prince. He was the definition of Ace's "perfect".

"Hey uncle," little Ace referred to his butler as such as he closed the storybook he was reading. A spark of curiosity sparkling in his eyes as he continued, "how do I become as amazing as my big brother?"

A childlike innocence could easily be tainted by those with such intentions—the old butler could easily plant the wrong ideas in his head and nurture the seeds of jealousy he planted within him. He stared at him for a second before letting out a sigh, strengthening his resolve when he saw Ace's eyes full of wonder.

"His Highness does not have to do anything, you are already a wonderful child just like your brother."

"Really!?"

"Of course, I wouldn't dare lie to you. If you continue to stay on the right path, I have no doubt that you will be as great as your brother in the future." He patted Ace's head, relieved that the second prince seemed to be satisfied with the answer.

"Yeah... I will!" He declared, staring right back at his butler with an uncontrollably big grin taking over his face.

That was the last time he saw that butler.

The palace staff told him he died because of heart failure during his day off. This devastated poor little Ace Trappola greatly—demanding to be allowed to attend his funeral but was stopped by his father, saying that there was no need for someone like him to attend a servant's funeral. The hand-picked white lilies Ace took that day in hopes of paying his respects, withered inside his room as he cried his heart out.

The next day, they had already found a replacement for his butler. Someone who was far younger than his previous one and was definitely less warm—he went by the name "Rowen" and insisted that the young prince should call him that. At first, Ace put up a fight as he tried to resist everything Rowen tried to do—even if it was just a menial task such as him trying to tie Ace's necktie for him.

But, nonetheless, Ace was still a child and children, more often than not, don't know how to deal with grief. You could easily spot him crying in places he shouldn't be yet no one had the heart to tell him that, even more when Rowen asked the palace staff specifically to not approach the prince if they ever spot him like that and instead, call for him immediately.

Stuck inside the garden, Ace was barely trying to keep his sobs in as he rubbed his eyes with his sleeves.

"I miss uncle…" He cried out, perhaps getting a little bit tired of how colder the palace seemed to be towards him. A pair of footsteps suddenly approached him, Ace quickly stood up and patted away all the dirt from his clothes so it seemed like he didn't cry but his swollen eyes were a dead giveaway.

"Your Highness, I was looking for you."

"Oh, Rowen. It's you…" A dejected look took over his face, was he expecting his old butler to appear? He silently crushed his hopes as he raised a question for his new companion.

"Can I ask you a question…?"

"Of course."

"D-Do you think I can still be as amazing as my big brother?" A few seconds of silence passed by as Rowen crossed his arms.

"Forgive me for my bluntness. However, at this rate, you will never amount to what your brother will be in the future."

"E-Eh? But uncle said that—"

"Your 'uncle' was foolish, perhaps that was why he died." Rowen crouched down, his green irises staring right into Ace's eyes—there was something in his eyes that Ace couldn't put a finger on but one thing is for sure, he thought Rowen was scary during this very moment.

"What you need right now is power," Rowen pressed a finger against his lips. "And that's exactly what I can give you."

"Power? Don't I already have plenty of that, I'm a prince!"

"What you need," he pushed Ace back with his index finger, "is enough power to take the throne."

"But big brother is the only one who can take that!" Ace shouted, trying to overpower the nonsense he was hearing from his new butler.

"Heed my words and I can make it happen." Rowen's lips tugged up into a small smirk before delivering his final words.

"After all, you want to be as great as your brother, the first prince."

Ace felt confused. He clutched his chest as he thought about his words—he did want to be as great as his brother but he couldn't help but be a little wary of what Rowen might ask of him. Ace had to slap himself back to reality, there was no reason for him to think about this so seriously! There was no way he could take the throne for himself and why would he even want to do that…? Isn't he happy the way he is right now?

Ace stepped out from the garden with Rowen following him shortly behind. He stared at the castle building, the maids and butlers working about, and a few noble visitors roaming around.

That was when a little devil's voice started whispering in his ear.

Deuce Spade had been anything but happy upon growing up inside the Royal Palace. Being the sole crown prince of the Spade Kingdom, his life never consisted of flowers and rainbows contrary to what many think. If you asked young Deuce himself about his position, he would simply give you a blank stare before properly processing your question. Once he does, he’ll give you a half-hearted smile before answering with: “It’s a duty I must fulfill.”

He’d never been too fond of the fact that his life was already planned ahead of him the moment the royal palace discovered his existence in his mother’s womb. He would undergo proper education fitting for the crown prince, he would be assigned with tasks that were meant for the crown prince, and he would soon rise to the throne once his father was no longer able to rule.

Rather than inheriting the throne, he yearned for something else. Being the heir to the throne meant that there was almost nothing he couldn’t obtain but he found himself dumbfounded when his elders aggressively denied him of his desire for the first time.

His desire to become a knight.

Deuce was said to be excellent with the art of the sword, easily surpassing other kids his age. But that was not the reason why Deuce had the desire to become a knight.

One of the first things they taught Deuce was the fact that he was in a dangerous position and that there might be cases wherein other people might make an attempt on his life. He thought that it was ridiculous because, after all, who would dare try to kill the crown prince? It would be treason!

And because of that, he was too lax.

One night, the prince got kidnapped and threw the whole palace in an uproar. Little Deuce could barely open his eyes when he tried assessing his surroundings, his eyes were blurry and he couldn’t move a muscle as no voice came out from his mouth. He was beyond terrified, he thought he was going to die that night. He pleaded inside his head, begging someone to come and find him. But for days, he was yet to be found.

He thought that perhaps the Royal Palace had decided to give up on him as he lost hope himself, his eyes growing dull and duller. He had to endure the harsh treatment given to him during his abduction, the only thing keeping him sane was the single ray of hope that someone was going to rescue him.

Just as he felt as if the thread was about to snap, he saw a cloaked man barge into the place where he was held hostage with a sword in hand. Ruthlessly, he cut down the perpetrators without so much as a blink. Deuce could only stare at the scene unfolding in front of him weakly. ‘Am I… being saved?’

It took him every ounce of his strength to stay conscious. And even more when he forced himself to ask the mysterious cloaked man. He wasn’t wearing anything that could discern his homeland, Deuce couldn’t figure out where he came from. His face was covered by the hood of the cloak, he couldn’t see his features very well. Deuce was afraid that there would be no way of him figuring out his identity before he passes out, so he forced a voice out of his throat.

“Who… are you?” His voice was hoarse. The man stayed silent, sheathing his sword before walking closer to the prince and unlocking the rope binding his hands together. Deuce could slowly feel himself losing consciousness but just before he could pass out, the man finally answered his question.

“...A knight.” He muttered.

The next time Deuce opened his eyes, he was no longer in a dark place but instead, in an unfamiliar yet extravagant room. He could tell that it was not the palace in his kingdom, he felt himself panic once again as he remembered the past events. When he heard a knock on his door, Deuce flinched as he hesitantly told them to come in.

A small girl around Deuce’s age entered the room with a plushie in her arms. He told himself to calm down upon seeing her, reassuring himself that the probability of this girl doing the same thing as the ones who kidnapped him were very low.

“Are you feeling better now, Your Highness?” She asked, concern lacing her voice. Deuce clutched his arm.

“Better than before… at least. But before that, who are you?” It was only normal for Deuce to become extremely wary considering what he just went through. The young girl understood that and merely gave him a small grin.

She introduced herself as the first princess of the kingdom he was residing in. Deuce was shocked, it wasn’t his own kingdom that found him but another! Did that mean that all this time he was in a foreign country? Was that the reason why no one had found him for days? Countless questions were swirling inside his head.

The princess was the only one who was let into his room, seeing as how Deuce was more comfortable seeing someone around his own age rather than adults. She was as clumsy as she was kind, Deuce found himself being comforted by her even if most of their meetings consisted of him being gloomy.

A few days later, an envoy was sent to Deuce’s kingdom to inform them that he was safe in their palace. During that period of time, Deuce was cooped up inside his room—thinking about a lot of stuff and refused to come out for hours. When it was time for him to go, he visited the princess one last time.

“Is it possible for me to visit you in the future?” Gratitude? Attraction? Personal interest? The reason behind his words was blurred.

When he returned home, he almost gave the whole Royal Court a heart attack when he declared that he wanted to become a knight. Nobody could tell what Deuce was thinking after he was abducted, it was as if he turned into an entirely different person. But he was thoroughly denied of his desire to become a knight, in which he was highly disappointed in. But, somehow, he found a way to secretly train without anyone finding out.

Using the princess as the shield, he went in and out of your kingdom to train under the pretense of meeting her. But she was more than happy to assist him as they became partners in crime. Deuce couldn’t forget the mysterious knight that saved him and so he idolized him ever since, saying how he wanted to be someone who protected people.

“Princess!” He called out, waving his hand as he grinned at her. This was the start of their relationship with each other. Only time can tell if this was to end happily ever after or otherwise.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst writing #fanfic #self indulgent takoyaki #twisted wonderland x reader #heartslabyul #twst deuce #deuce spade x reader #deuce x reader #deuce spade #twst ace #twisted wonderland ace #ace trappola #ace x reader #ace #fem!reader #chapter one so it's mostly. . . A backstory

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headfullofdolls · 2 years

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So, now with the series 4 bios out, Lila Yamamoto is confirmed to be mixed Japanese and Chinese.

And this is good, of course, because the least they can do to explain her outfits is to have her be mixed heritage. Because there was a lot of reasonable concern over the cultural mishmashing going on with her fashions, as others have explained. And I’ve seen some people express relief because now we can put those concerns to rest!

...But as much as I, someone also Asian and mixed, would like to believe MGA planned for Lila to be mixed Japanese and Chinese from the start...

“Her dad is Japanese, and her mom is Chinese.”

That is the easiest sentence to insert into a paragraph as an afterthought. Just change “rich cultural roots” to “rich multicultural roots” and bada boom, she’s mixed now.

“Loves incorporating her family’s diverse culture with street style fashion” should really say “cultures” though, plural, so they forgot to fix that 🤔 But hey, that could easily be a simple typo, right?

Except the bio only mentioning Lila being a “streetstyle icon in Tokyo” also seems odd. She has a Japanese last name, lives in Tokyo, and reads rare manga, all referencing her Japanese heritage, but the bio makes no references to her Chinese heritage aside from her mom. If she “loves incorporating her family’s diverse culture(s)” with her fashion so much, why not a brief mention about what inspired her to incorporate Chinese elements? Like visiting her mom’s family in China (naming another specific city like Tokyo), or her mom introducing her to Chinese arts or fashions as she grew, in contrast to the Japanese culture surrounding them. Or being inspired by her parents’ respect for each others’ traditions and the way they incorporated them together while raising her. Lily Cheng’s bio talks about her growing up with “the best of both worlds,” so there’s already precedent for that similar experience. And there’s other students with longer bios that talk more about their families or backgrounds (see Krystal’s and Stella’s for instance), so it’s not like there wasn’t enough space or it’d be out of place for Lila’s bio to have a short reference to her Chinese cultural influences. Saying only, “Her dad is Japanese, and her mom is Chinese,” sounds bland and impersonal. And to me, seems like a hasty inclusion to hand-wave away the inconsistencies in Lila’s outfits. Because even with her mixed heritage, there are better, more respectful ways to incorporate Chinese and Japanese culture “with street style fashion” than the muddled hodgepodge they designed for her doll, if they only did more research.

You could say I’m being cynical and nitpicking, and you’d be right! But I also love Rainbow High and want better from it. Good representation is important (especially in properties directed at younger demographics), and it’s important to critique big corporations when they drop the ball, or at least question their actions. Because this issue isn’t new, isn’t even surprising, even just looking at Rainbow High’s history of diversity and representation. On the plus side, as fans have pushed for them to do better, they have started doing better! On the other hand, it’s frustrating to have to keep pushing for it, instead of the paid professional teams at MGA putting in the work and awareness to be better before anyone has to point it out to them.

I’m glad, relieved even, to have written confirmation of Lila as mixed race (I was worried they wouldn’t have any justification for her outfits at all). But planned or not, it doesn’t absolve the cultural carelessness issues going on with her clothes. As our first canonical multicultural representation in Rainbow High, I sorely wish she was better. Lila deserved better. We deserved better. But now, keeping that in mind, all we can do is speak out, and push for MGA to do better in the future.

#rainbow high #lila yamamoto #saw someone say now people could ''finally sleep at night instead of hating MGA'' and it activated my fight or flight reaction #and y'know what?#¿por que no los dos? (:#lila i want to love you but you're also causing me immense emotional turmoil :\#like i almost never see darker-skin asian rep #i've literally seen more ads for ''skin-lightening'' products on trips to my mom's country #and then! woe! dark tan asian doll be upon ye!#eeeexcept her fashion is an insincere mix of east asian cultures as if they're all the same! yaaaaay #(and also her second skirt is just a straight up recolor of karma's)#(which is a smaller unrelated issue but still. annoying :\)#(like did they run out of ideas or just cheap out hahaaaaa)#anyway. i'm just out here writing long posts about dolls instead of going to bed. i am very normal #but hey! guess that also means i'm ''hating MGA'' instead of ''finally sleeping at night'' lmaoooo gottem #we've come full circle. the salt prevails #doll thoughts #tag specifically for rainbow high thoughts

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pleasedonthurtcjstar · 2 years

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What a “Normal” Person Would Do

Ao3

Characters: Remus Sanders, Roman Sanders, Logan Sanders (Mentioned)

Ship: RemRom, IntruLogical (Implied)

Tags: incest, making out, knife play, blood, gore

Words: 1150

Summary: Roman is not happy with the events that occurred in Working Through Intrusive Thoughts (Asides). Angry Remrom s3x + Dark from RemRom Spooky Words Prompts. Please read the tags and my A/N. Omg Thank you Char on Discord for being my beta!!!

A/N: I've written something like this before back in the 9th grade. Let's see if I can do better than freshman year of high school. Side note: I’m so fucking sorry! Extra side note: jfc im so sorry ahhh. Last side note: Nope! Sorry y’all, I can’t push for a s3x scene so please enjoy everything leading up to it. This is what I’ve written in 6 months and this is how it’s going to stay.

Bc I forgot // Blog Tags: @remrom-events || #remromspookevent

Sometimes tumblr deletes the first line under the cut so hopefully if it does it’s this line and not my fic. Please check out ao3 if you’re worried though. This message is before and after the cut on purpose.

If you see this, hi! Thank you for giving this look. This message is on purpose.

Remus POV

Remus lay sprawled out on his bed in his room, lazily watching the tv as he waited for the hours to go by. The tv was making sounds at him but honestly he wasn't paying it much attention.

His door burst open, and then slammed shut. There stood Roman interrupting his hazy staticy thoughts. He could hardly be seen from the little light that was caused by the tv, allowing Remus to see Roman’s shadowy figure.

“How could you fucking do that?” Roman demands, his voice hoarse. Obviously the other was really angry at Remus. However Remus had no clue what Roman could be angry about at this moment.

And no, it's not like Remus is innocent. It’s just that Remus wasn’t sure what out of the billion things he’s done today alone could have been the problem at hand.

“Woah there brother,” Remus chuckles softly as if this situation was funny, “You're gonna have to be a little bit more specific than that”

In a quick swift motion, Remus was yanked off the bed and onto his feet. It happened so fast that honestly Remus was simply not ready or prepared for this type of action.

The sword was held against his throat and Remus was up against the wall, unable to draw his mace from god knows where to defend himself.

“I can not believe you think that this is funny! Wipe that fucking smirk off your face!” Roman demands, the blade pressing firmly against his neck.

“Oh please, as if you scare me,” Remus mocks. Roman obviously didn’t scare him; he could never scare him. Even with his hard demanding voice and any weapon of his choosing pressing against his body, it's not like they could die. They were all fictives of Thomas' imagination.

However, the low growl that crept from Roman’s throat and the way that his nose flared-

Jesus fucking christ.

Remus focused his gaze into Romans eyes.

“Come on. I’m intrusive thoughts and you’re just rainbows and sunshines. A fucking pussy is what you are.”

Why was he saying this? Remus wasn’t entirely sure. Maybe he just liked pressing Roman’s buttons. Honestly, he should stop. Roman is too pissed for his games right now.

Before Remus could choose between continuing his petty attacks on Roman’s character or backtracking his previous taunts, he watched as Roman suddenly inhaled sharply. He slid the blade against Remus' neck, slicing through the skin like it was nothing. In mere seconds, Remus felt the prick of the blade and the pain. Instead of what a normal person would do, which is to squirm away from the blade and the person who did the action, the worst thing that could ever happened took place.

He moaned.

It was still filled with anguish of course because… pain. But the moan was something that was not lost on Remus or Roman.

Roman’s eyes seem to only glow darker. He tilts his head to the side.

“You like pain huh?”

“Well-”

“Shut the fuck up.” Roman says quickly. He pulled the sword back from Remus’ neck and it transformed into a small blade, easier to wield and slice Remus up.

Remus’ tongue darts across his lips. Wetting the pieces of skin in anticipation of what was to come.

“Lucky for you I'm pissed and want to cut into something.”

Before Remus could respond, Roman was using the blade to cut off his clothing. His complicated attire soon in shreds falling onto the carpet beneath him.

“Roman?!” Remus gasped out in complete shock. Out of everything, he wouldn't have expected Roman to tear his clothes!

The knife in Roman’s hand dragged up Remus' belly. It was pressed hard against his skin, scratching it but not hard enough to bring blood.

Remus held his gut in.

“I know.” Roman said.

“Know what?” The dark sides whispered. He looked back up to Roman’s gaze.

The blade stopped moving.

“Logan told me”

Logan?

His thoughts were cut (lol) short by the feeling of piercing pain in his abdomen.

“Ah-hhh!” Remus lets out.

His cry of pain was eaten up by Roman’s mouth connecting to his.

They've never kissed like this. So hungry and full of need. Oddly Remus needed more.

The blade started to slip out. Slowly.

Roman pulled away from Remus’s lips just so he could hear Remus’s gasps. The grip on Roman’s arms was tight, Remus practically clawing at the Prince’s clothing.

“Ah, Roman.”

Roman takes in a big sniff of Remus' musk. He pulled the knife completely out, the blood seeping out the wound and running down onto Remus’ pants leg. A little of it getting on to Roman’s leg too. But they didn't seem to care.

“Yes sweetheart?” Roman replies. “You like it when I cut into you?”

Remus’s breath was quick. Almost hyperventilating, some could argue. Just as quickly as the wound was created, it was gone; however, the blood stained pants were still a reminder of what just occurred.

“You think you can flirt and be a little whore around Logan and I wouldnt find out?” Roman asked again. The knife now up once more against Remus’s neck, the point of the sharp object pressing against the skin daring to enter the soft flesh.

“I- no. See, I was just playing around with Logan-” Remus manages to get out. And that’s all he could get out before Roman’s quick movement sent metal into his soft under chin.

His mouth filled with his own blood, the metallic taste overflowing his senses. The handle of the knife stuck out from under his jaw. The tip of the blade scratching the roof of his mouth. It was beginning to be too much.

Roman pulled it out and tossed the blade onto Remus’ dark green comforter.

“You’re full of shit, Duke.”

Remus didn't respond. Well, not like he could respond. His mouth was still trying to figure out what just happened, not to mention the amount of blood that was pooling inside, slipping down his throat making him gag and choke it back up just for it to sputter out past his lips. He sank down the wall and watched as Roman unbuttoned his own top, throwing the white and gold article across the room.

Without having to physically touch it, Remus knew his jaw had closed up. His tongue darted out to lap up the leftover blood that had pooled in his mouth and stained his lips.

“Roman,” Remus calls from the floor, gaining the others' attention.

“Yeah?”

“That was so hot.”

Roman nods his head in agreement. “Yeah.”

“Are you still mad?”

There was a pause. It was still too dark to see Roman’s eyes from where he sat on Remus’s bed. Remus wished he could see his brother’s eyes.

“Yeah. Just a little.”

“Do you want to fuck the rest of your anger out?”

Romans lips curl up to a smirk. “Yeah.”

#remrom #sanders sides #remus sanders #roman sanders #pleasedonthurtcjstar works #remromspookevent

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sparetimeimagines · 3 years

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They Find You Hiding At A Party

Kuroo Tetsurō x Reader

Tags; Drinking, Astrology, Fluff

You were always a fan of the American wraparound style porches, however the abbreviated ones will do. Drunk people walked in and out and in and out; you began to lose count of how many people were actually at this party. The rainbow colors from the disco ball someone randomly put up in a corner beams through the window.

Reds, blues, greens -they all highlighted your face for a period of time- however you didn’t seem to mind. The music was loud enough you didn’t have to be inside, but with all the people you honestly prefer not to be.

They are packing in by thirty too many and you just need some air. So in the corner of the front porch you find a swing hanging from the ceiling. It is wooden and perfect for those warm summer days. Or tonight, for the moonlight was at its best, full and letting the stars have their moment.

You watch the night sky, how the fog dances over the moon, and notice all the patterns that you’re familiar with.

You were always a fan of astrology. Your mother found great meaning in the stars, for future, past and whatever was on your mind.

So you learned the meanings. You learned their faces. And whenever you found a moment of peace all alone, you heard their voices.

Like tonight.

The familiar acquaintances you have made in the sky send their hellos and you’re more than happy to greet them back.

A few loud drunks crash through the front door, surprisingly enough not breaking it. The two guys punch each other shoulders, laughing about how much they drank from the keg. However, that didn’t amuse you.

You take a sip from the red cup you have in your hand, letting the alcohol burn your throat just slightly.

It wasn’t beer. You specifically asked your friend to not give you beer.

You hated the taste. It doesn’t matter, domestic or foreign, light or dark, it didn’t matter. To you, it was disgusting.

Instead, the brown liquor told you it was whiskey. You don’t know how they got whiskey, considering it was a bunch of poor third years and their underclassmen friends.

They must’ve stole it from one of their parents...

“Chiiiiibi-Chan.” The raspy voice says with a chuckle coming out of the door with two cups of alcohol. “Chiiiiibi-Chan.” He repeats himself. “I thought I’d find you out here.” His raspy voice immediately sends a smile to your lips and a roll to your eyes.

“You’re too smooth for your own good. I hope you know that.“ You shake your head taking the new cup from Kuroo‘s hand.

He chuckles once more, and sits beside you on the swing.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.“ he chuckles, his bottom lip pulls into his teeth.

“Sure, Tetsu.” You bring the cup to your lips instantly regretting that decision. “Ew, gross this is beer.” You gag and he quickly switches out the drinks.

“My bad. This one is yours.”

He takes a sip from the cup you had previously on your lips and smirks. “Did you drug me?”

“Tetsu don’t be stupid.”

“What? I could never.” He leans in closer to your ear. “Chiiiiibi-Chan.” His tone drips sensually and he chuckles. “You’re so cute when you blush. Tell me.” He growls. “Do I make you nervous?”

“Tetsu!” You smack his chest causing an uproar.

He throws his head back and his arm snakes around your shoulders.

“Fine! Fine.” He chuckles. “Tell me, Y/N, why are you outside when the party is inside?”

The night sky twinkles with more aggression at that moment and you shrug.

“You see that line right there of those really bright stars? The one that’s curved like a tail?” You point to the sky whilst Kuroo leans forward.

“Yes... I think. Yes.” He nods and faces you.

“That’s Scorpius.” He turns his head to study the sky longer. “That’s your constellation, right? Middle of November?” You say as though you don’t already know.

“Yes... Chibi-Chan you remembered.” His starlike features glow along his facial structures.

“Of course I do, Tetsu.” You continue to watch the stars and yet you feel eyes studying your face. “That really bright star? That’s Venus.”

“You’re a really bright star.” His voice drips once more.

“It’s impolite to stare.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m just admiring your beauty.” He whispers with intentions of getting a reaction.

“No you’re edging me on.” You turn back to him with eyes squinted with a dare.

The sensual tension between childhood friends should not have been brought to attention. However, with birthdays two days apart, the Scorpios knew better than to trust their pheromones.

“You like it.”

“You’re annoying.” You take another sip of the shot he provided and listen to his counter.

“Chibi-Chan. You know chemistry is more my thing. You know, what you’re feeling between us.” He circles his finger in a loop before leaning in closer.

Your faces inches apart, you can feel his hot breath against your ear.

“This place blows and I’m hungry. Let’s get out of here and do something worth our time.” He stands extending his hand to you.

“Should I call Kenma?” You dig for your phone as Kuroo starts the journey down the street towards town.

“Mmm, not this time, Chibi-Chan.” He stops, his large hands grabbing your phone. “Tonight, I want it to be just us. Me and You. Does that sound ok?” His crooked smile and daring eyes tempt you to say something smart but instead you nod.

“Can I have my phone back?”

“No.”

“No? How long are you planning on having it?” You stop, reaching for the phone that he raised in unison with you. He holds the device high above his head making it impossible for you to reach.

Kuroo chuckles and pulls your waist into him.

“You can have it back for a price.” He holds the phone close to him.

“A price.” You repeat dumbfounded. Your large eyes watch him.

“A price you cannot resist.” He smirks. “A kiss to yours truly.”

“Forget about it.”

“What?” He’s shocked lowering his arms.

“Not happening.” You snatch the phone from the captain with his guard down.

“What? You totally stole that!”

“It wasn’t yours to begin with Tetsu.”

He pouts and stops walking.

“Tetsu.”

“Nope.”

“Tetsu, are you drunk?”

“Don’t know him.”

“Tetsu, let’s go.”

“Nope. You hurt my feelings.” He folds his arms across his chest.

“I’m calling Kenma.”

“Noo! Don’t do that.” He stomps his feet and drapes his arms over your shoulders from behind. “Chiiiiibi-Chan. Why can’t it just be the two of us?”

“Because you can’t behave on your own.”

“Yes I can.”

“Prove it.” Your brows raise for a challenge while his smirk never falls.

“The stars say you’re supposed to fall in love with me tonight.”

“Hmmm is that so?” You turn in his arms to see his hazel eyes glowing against the blood rushing to his cheeks.

“Mmhmm.” He nods stepping closer to you. “We’re aligned tonight. Stars say you’ll fall for my charm.” His sensual tone drips as he bends closer to your frame. His lips are close to yours and once again you feel his breath.

This time you feel your heart disobeying you; pounding in your ears.

“You feel this chemistry between us. This pull bringing my lips-” he gently brushes them against your own. “To yours.” He presses his lips to yours again the same way, his nose barely grazing upon yours. “You can’t help yourself. You feel it too.”

You move in closer to his lips whilst he pulls away. His warm hands cup your face, long fingers tanging in your hair. “Your heart feral with each fragment of my touch.” They slowly traces down to the tip of your chin as he tilts your face to his.

He slides in closer trying his move thrice, this time you interrupt him, your lips cutting first taking him by a pleasant surprise. His lips curl upward, your bodies closing tightly.

“The stars say you’re supposed to fall in love with me tonight.” He whispers and kisses you again, bringing his forehead to yours. “What do they tell you?”

“I believe they’re absolutely right.”

Masterlist

#kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo testuro #kuroo headcanons #kuroo scenarios #kuroo fluff #haikyuu preferences #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!!#imagines #fluff #preferences

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kcabyap · 2 years

Text

I'm sorry to come here with a negative post. I like to think I've always kept this blog a place of positivity (or I always tried to at least) but my god I am actually really bummed out and kinda genuinely mad about the fact that gacha is mandatory for the new event rewards and I feel the strong need to get this off my chest. So here goes. (Under the cut for length, and to avoid putting too much negativity right there in the main tags for those who don't want it.)

To preface: to a certain extent with gacha games, I'm actually one of the really forgiving types. My view is: the game's free, a company's gotta make money and their number one priority will always be making money, but it is what it is as long as the game can be played for free; as long as the gacha remains optional. When that's what's going on, it's fine. I'm not rich by any stretch of the imagination but when I have it spare, I'll happily pay some Real Money if there's something I really want in a game; it is what it is.

Now then.

I tried to ignore what was happening with Obey Me, at first. I tried to ignore it even as it became more and more apparent to me that, despite having a decent amount of high level cards and working hard to level them up and trying my best to save up my tickets and vouchers, I literally could not progress through the lessons unless I paid Real Money for rainbow glowsticks. And I am not far in the game, mind you: I started having this problem in the late twenties, and I'm currently on Lesson 33 right now. Despite all that? I tried to ignore it. And I tried to ignore it purely out of love for the game; for the story and the characters, for all the genuinely good content there is like the music and the audio dramas and the anime and all the rest, for all the good points that are most definitely there.

But having taken some time away from the game and hearing about this development tonight... it's all been brought into very clear perspective for me: Obey Me isn't one of those gacha games that can be played for free. It's not.

To use a popular example: take Genshin Impact. To give my personal experiences with it: I played it on mobile, have finished all available story quests so far, and only put money into it once; and that wasn't because I needed to in order to progress, it was because I wanted to make a few pulls for a specific character. My mother plays it on PS4, is a higher rank than me, has more playable characters than me, and has finished more sidequests than me, and she has never once put a penny into that game. Despite any claims that people make about Mihoyo being a greedy company, I'd call that an example of a gacha game that ultimately works; yes, there are plenty of reasons to put money into the game, and the company absolutely wants you to... but you do not have to. The main story of the game will not become literally too difficult to progress through if you don't pay Real Money.

I can no longer say Obey Me is one of those games. I can't. For crying out loud, people have been bringing up this issue long before now and it has only gotten worse since then.

And you know what makes me sadder? When I opened up Obey Me to check exactly which lesson I left off on to make sure this post is 100% correct, I had to tap through all the 'welcome back sale' and 'Solomon's special sale' and 'Devil Day 2021 sale' screens where the game was trying to get me to pay Real Money...

I just... I'm very, very sad. I love the story and the characters, I love the character songs, I love the audio dramas, I love the cast and how much passion they have for the project, I love what Obey Me could be and what it once was...

I love everything about Obey Me except Obey Me itself, because Obey Me itself has become such a moneygrab that it's impossible to progress even the main story - never mind the events with their now mandatory gambling - without paying money.

And I'm mad about it, yes, but more than anything... as I finish putting my thoughts down... I'm just really, really sad about it.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #please do not reply to or reblog this post with any negativity or explanations as to why i'm 'wrong' about this #i'm not here for a fight and i won't engage if you try starting one #i love this game and i'm hurting over what it's become purely due to corporate greed and i'm allowed to talk about it #no malice intended to anyone of course: if you're not experiencing this and you're still enjoying the game then that's great! /gen #but this is my experience and i know i'm not alone and hearing about #The Mandatory Gambling #just really fucked me up #anyway my askbox is open if anyone would like to talk about this (in a civil manner please)#kcabyap's rambling again

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moonflower-31 · 4 years

Text

I Won’t Forget You - Spencer Reid x Reader

Masterlist

Part 2

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of dead bodies and cases. Usual CM stuff.

Tags: @dra-reid, @eevee0722, @ceeellewrites

~~~~~~~~~

Okay, so, maybe you'd admit that sitting next to Reid on a plane was making you nervous.

After you had made it to the jet, you carried your go back to the back of the jet where they stored the luggage. Right as you did so however, your phone began to ring. You looked at your watch and sighed. You would have to answer the phone and get on the jet. Whoever it was was going to have to accept that it would be a short phone call.

"Hello?" You answered, adjusting your bag as you made your way back to the boarding stairs of the jet.

"So~? It's probably not your lunch break yet… but how did seeing mister teacher's pet go? Did he give you any hair care tips cause he looked good for having such messy hair."

You fought the smile that formed on your face, staying put near the bathroom so your phone call could be semi-private. Though you knew that Gabriel wouldn't have cared otherwise.

"Hello Gabriel. And for your information, I'm headed out on my first case. On an actual jet of all things. So don't expect me home tonight. I don't think these cases are usually as quick as a day."

"Ah okay. So you’re avoiding the question now? Jesus, you're really into this guy." He teases.

"Gabriel I swear-!" You growl. After a much needed sigh, you close your eyes and start your statement over again. "You tease me enough about my study habits. If you don't stop this you'll need to sleep with one eye open. Maybe start wearing a night-cap so I don't cut that hair of yours." You playfully threaten. Gabriel lets out an offended gasp.

"You wouldn't!"

"I totally would. Try me."

"Grr… Fine. Get me lover boy's number and I'll call it even. I'll tell Iris we'll be alone for a few nights~" You could hear his tell-tale smirk in his voice, causing you to roll your eyes.

"Don't you even dare. You know you'll wake up in the middle of nowhere in nothing but your rainbow underwear. She's capable of more than you realize." You laugh as you warn him of what you both knew Iris was capable of doing to him if he pissed her off.

"Yeah yeah, sure don't want that to happen again. Anyway, have a good trip with that pretty boy of yours~" Gabriel teased.

"What did I say?" You warned sternly.

"What? You didn't get me the guy's number yet, so teasing is still on the table."

"Leave it to you to find a damn loophole." You groan, rubbing the creases of your forehead out with your fingers.

"Everyone please take your seats, we need to go over the case, see if we can start building a profile." Hotch announces behind you.

"Sorry, I gotta go. We're about to take off. Don't die, please." You teasingly beg before you hang up and put your phone in the slot on your belt.

"So… Gabriel, huh?"

You gulp a bit and turn your head frantically until you find where Derek had sat on the jet. You roll your eyes and specifically choose the seat farthest away from him out of spite.

"Oh hush. He's my roommate. Not what you think." You insist as you grab your bag and place it in your lap, situating the case file in front of you. As soon as you get settled into your seat, you feel a presence suddenly sit next to you.

"Sorry, I had to grab something real quick."

You feel a slight blush grow on your face as you realize who the presence was. That was also accompanied by the sudden increase in the smell of mahogany wood and soft musk. It was pleasing.

"Don't worry about it, Pretty boy. We were just talking about L/N's little 'roommate'. Weren't we?" Morgan teases. Instead of taunting back you feel like almost sinking into your seat. Why did he have to bring that up right now? Especially when Spencer was here to fucking hear?

"Living with roommates is actually more common than you think. There was a study done recently that showed a total of 18-34 percent of people have roommates. It's more logical as it helps people afford apartments with minimum wages." He explains. You sigh with relief. You were glad for Spencer’s statistic. It moved the conversation away from you. At least you hoped.

"Whatever. Still. Who is this 'Gabriel'?" Morgan asked with a determined smirk, ignoring Spencer’s statistics. You sighed. You weren't going to get out of this as easily as you thought.

Spencer swallowed a bundle of nerves as Morgan pushed aside his attempt at changing the subject. If he was truthful, he didn't want to speak about the possibility of you having someone special in your life already. Although he doubted he ever had a chance. Who was this Gabriel though? He wouldn't deny that he was curious, at least to his own conscience.

"Fine," you sigh. "Gabriel is my best friend. Well… one of my best friends. He is gayer than a rainbow and is currently working as an FBI undercover agent. Happy?"

Morgan raised his hands in defeat, chuckling.

"I'm just asking baby girl, no hard feelings." He teases.

Spencer let out an undetectable sigh of relief, his unknowingly clenched fist loosening against his leg. "He's an undercover agent? How did he get hired as one as a new graduate?" Spencer asks. "Of course there are some rare occasions where recently graduated agents have gone immediately to a semi-high position, but that in itself is exceedingly rare. Almost impossible." He rambled, finally finishing and turning towards you.

"Oh, well I think it might've been because of his family ties. His father works in the CIA. Though I doubt that his father pulled any strings. He's kind of homophobic." You shrug. "But hey, it's not too impossible. It happened for you and me, right?" You asked, wiggling a teasing eyebrow.

Spencer chuckled a bit and nodded, laughing gently. "I suppose it isn't as impossible as I make it sound. Although it still is rare. We just both happen to meet the requirements." He answers, flashing you a genuine smile.

"For someone who's pretty private about her own personal life, you're pretty open about sharing your roommate's life." Morgan speaks up with curiosity. Spencer bites back a growl and glares at Morgan to knock it off.

"Don't worry, Gabe's not that worried about his own life being leaked. He's got a squeaky clean record, and he says anything that someone finds out from someone other than him is always hearsay in court without proof."

Morgan shrugged and pulled out the case file, getting the notion that the conversation was over.

"We should get started. We'll be touching down in Illinois in a couple hours." Hotch announces, gathering everyone's collective attention. Garcia's face popped up on Derek's laptop he opened up as Hotch began to go over the case. "Any outstanding details yet, Garcia?" He began.

"No sir, the only thing I could find was that each of your victims visited stores for newborns to toddlers. Babies R Us, Bottles and Babies, you name it. Each of them also had either a wife or serious romantic partner who had recently given birth." Garcia answered, looking up from her list.

"What kind of job would you have to have to know this stuff about your victims? I don't think our unsub is stalking them." Rossi spoke up.

"Maybe they work at one of the stores? Garcia I'm gonna need a list of employees at each of those locations." Derek started.

"No wait, if they're all different stores then the idea of the unsub working at one doesn't fit… do each of these stores have the same supplier?" You speak up, looking over the case details before looking up at the rest of the team.

"Uhh… yes, a company called Mommy and Me supplies all three of the stores these men visited." Garcia clarifies.

"Good work, (L/N). Garcia, I'm going to need that list of names." Hotch informed.

"I'll get that straight back to you sir as soon as I can. Garcia out." She says, disappearing from the screen.

"So what are we thinking about behavior? Why would our unsub attack these men? And why now?" Emily spoke up.

"The stressor in this situation is most likely to do with a partner. Or perhaps something to do with our unsub's physical appearance or self-esteem. Since each of the men are dark haired and left out for anyone to find." Spencer explained, laying the folder down onto the table in front of him.

"Maybe something to do with a child? This unsub might just be a customer at each of these places. Maybe their partner recently left them and they're lashing out at surrogates for that partner." JJ suggests.

"Are we looking for a female unsub?" Morgan asks.

"I believe so." You spoke up.

"Why is that, (L/N)?" Prentiss replied.

"Well, in one of the crime scene descriptions, it was said that the newborn of one of the men was fed after their father had been murdered. I don't believe any man could do that. There weren't any leftover bottles either." You answered.

"Actually, it is possible for a man to lactate. Although very rare, some men still produce the hormone prolactin even if they have a Y chromosome. This produces the process of lactation. But I doubt that is the case here, as most examples of this happening have been influenced by medical means." Spencer expressed, his eyes widening and sparkling with wonder at his fact.

Derek groaned. "I really, really did not need to know that man."

"But he's right. If there is no trace of a bottle having been used, or of one missing, we could be dealing with a woman." Hotch affirmed. "That paired with the obvious craving of power in the way the bodies are dumped and each victim is tortured."

"What if our unsub recently had a baby also?" JJ spoke.

"That would make sense, if our unsub is finding men at these different stores, then it could be plausible for her to have taken these men while alternating between stores." Rossi points out.

"Good work everyone. When we land JJ and I will talk to the families. Morgan, Prentiss, Rossi, I want you three to investigate the last dump site, see if we can gather any more information on this unsub's methods and cause. And (L/N) and Reid, I need you two to take a look at the bodies. See id there are any patterns we missed. However we need to be quick, or Galesburg is going to have another body on their hands very soon." Hotch divides the jobs, closing the folder for the case. "Reid."

Spencer looks up and turns towards Hotch. "Yeah?"

"Show (L/N) the ropes for Prentiss. Try to teach her if you can. This is a learning opportunity for her as much as this is a case for us." Hotch orders. Spencer nods in understanding, feeling nervous butterflies building up again in his stomach.

"Well, I guess you're stuck with me for a couple hours. I promise I don't bite too hard." You tease, nudging his shoulder. He smiles at your tease, letting out a soft laugh.

"Oh I know that. The question is…" he pauses, raising a teasing eyebrow. "..if I do."

You snort and laugh, shaking your head. "You wouldn't hurt a fly, Reid. No offense."

"Wouldn't hurt-" Spencer playfully scoffs. "You hearing this, Morgan?" He says with a teasing smile on his face.

"I've hurt a fly. I outsmarted its mother." Spencer insisted. Morgan snickered and looked towards Prentiss with a knowing look. She gave him one back, smiling smugly.

"Really? Outsmarted its mother? Reid, a human infant is capable of outsmarting a damn fly. But whatever you say, Fly Genius." You teased. Morgan let out a long 'Ooo' in response.

"You just got told."

"Whatever Morgan." Spencer playfully rolled his eyes, smiling still under his attempt at trying to look annoyed.

"You're just mad I ended up getting you to prove your innocence." You insist.

"You totally didn't." He retorts.

"Spence, you've always been innocent." JJ interjects.

"See? You can't deny that." You insist, a playful smile cemented on your face.

"Who knew of all of us to bond with, you'd choose Pretty Ricky first." Morgan teased.

"You're just jealous I got to talk to her first." Reid insists playfully. You roll your eyes.

"Yeah, cause without seeing a map I assume your sense of direction is terrible." You tease. He looks at you mock offended and laughs a little.

"Is not. Your eyes just met mine and you looked friendly." Spencer defended.

"Alright children settle down before you give me an aneurysm." Rossi teases in a playful sigh. You giggle and shake your head. You didn't expect that amount of welcome feelings coming especially from Spencer. But everyone was already warming up to you. It felt nice. You just hoped you didn't let everyone down.

○●♡●○

Walking off the jet, you immediately were greeted by the chief of the Galesburg PD.

"Hi, you must be the BAU. I'm Chief Anthony Sherwood. Thanks for comin' down so fast." The chief thanks, shaking Hotch's hand.

"Of course. I'm Agent Hotchner. This is Agent Morgan, Prentiss, Jareau, Rossi, Reid, and our trainee, Agent (L/N)." Hotch introduces. The chief goes down the line, shaking almost everybody's hands. (Spencer gave him a peace sign instead)

"So, a trainee huh? If we weren't so crunched for time to find this guy, I'd ask how you're liking the BAU. Come along now, we got everything you need set up at the station." Sherwood spoke to you before he gestured to everyone else and began to lead you all to the rental SUVs they had waiting for you all.

You gulp softly and sigh, clenching and unclenching your fists a couple of times before you begin to follow. It was your first case. You were a big bundle of excitement mixed with nerves that wouldn't go away.

Once inside the police station, you found a place for your things, setting them down in the main room that the Chief had set aside for you all to use.

Once you had everything settled, you began to head out to the SUVs again without much of an introduction to everyone else. Hotch had said to get to the morgue as soon as you could to take a look at the bodies. You told yourself you were just following orders.

You climbed into the driver's seat of the SUV that you had ridden to the station and immediately groaned, placing your now aching head against the steering wheel. With all the excitement of being on a case you hadn't been prepared to go on yet, you hadn't noticed you were having one of your head splitting migraines from your hyperthymesia. And lucky you, you had left the bottle of acetaminophen in your bag that you had left in the station. Great.

"Rough day already?"

You jumped with sudden fear, banging your head against the window of the car. You groan and rub the affected area, turning your attention to the owner of the voice who just spooked the shit out of you.

"Reid…" you sighed, turning back to the wheel. Of course he had followed you. He was supposed to go with you. How dumb could you get?

"Yeah… that's me." He says, a slight smile on his lips. "You okay?" He asks.

"Yes… No… No not really. With my condition, I get occasional head-splitting migraines. They usually happen at least once a month. I hadn't gotten one yet, till today. And I left my prescription in my bag." You groaned, running a hand through your hair.

"I see… but I don't think it's just the headaches."

"Guess you caught me. I'm just nervous about this being my first case. Trainee or not. I've thought about this experience plenty of times. But you can't predict what the case is gonna entail." You conclude, squeezing the steering wheel.

"That's understandable for any new agent, (L/N). Whether you're wide-eyed like Hotch and Rossi, or cautious, I think it's pretty normal. At least from my own experience."

You can't fight the urge to smile as he finished his advice. He really didn't have to do this. You were new. But then again, he probably just saw a piece of himself in you.

"Thanks Reid."

"Of course, (L/N)."

○●♡●○

"I've seen plenty of messed up injuries in my time, though I've never seen something as crude as this." The mortician said as she guided you and Spencer into the cold chamber room.

"Most places like this don't usually see much serial killer action, so it's to be expected." Spencer says, trailing off as the mortician pulled out the most recent victim.

"He looks pretty athletically built. Garcia texted me and told me they all were pretty active in the gym too. Not the same ones nor the same days though." You point out, pulling on a pair of gloves to take a look at the different injuries. "Each of these bruisings seem to be done by hand, no remnants of wood or anything else. So then how did our unsub subdue these men? They had to have been stronger than her." You questioned, looking over John McAllister's wounds near his neck.

"He wasn't strangled around his neck either… she might've used some sort of drug to temporarily paralyze the body. We've seen it before in a few cases. Was there any traces in their systems?" Spencer asks the mortician.

"Unfortunately, no. Nothing other than an increase in the production of glutamine, epinephrine, norepinephrine, and a few others." The mortician clarifies.

"Hm…" you pondered, crossing your arms briefly. "Are there any needle marks at all?"

Spencer considers what you say before he takes a gloved hand and tilts the head of the victim to the side. "Yes, behind his ear. Though the access to the blood supply would be harder to reach."

"I doubt that mattered to her." You remind.

"Can we see the others? Or have their bodies been claimed?" You ask.

"The first one, yes. But the second one no." The mortician says, putting the latest victim back in the cold chamber before pulling out the second.

"Is there a needle mark?" You ask, hoping this connection would help the case.

"Yes, around the same area too…" Spencer trails.

You turn your head to the second victim's file and narrow your eyes. "Hey… from this photo, our second victim is supposed to have long dark brown hair, our unsub is cutting the hair."

"She's trying to make them look like a partner." Spencer realizes, pulling out his phone to alert Hotch. You nod to the mortician and help her put the second victim's body back into the freezer.

Then you began to follow Spencer out of the morgue, your nerves finally having calmed down. Maybe this is what you had needed, as morbid as it was. Just to see the reality of the case instead of just your own worries and ideas of the case. You were going to be fine. You felt like a real profiler.

Of course it helped that Spencer was there, but still. It felt good. And you knew this case needed the good.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader fic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fanfic

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adam-memeleri · 3 years

Text

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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