cloverque

[cloverque]

im home!

it's time for spring cleaning.. well, it's quite overdue now, isn't it? hehe. i'm back to write my stories in this blog!

i left a while ago to pursue a different genre of writing. things didn't quite work out for me despite my success, and i've missed the comfort of this old handle. it's sad that most of my friends here have departed. i wish everyone the best in their respective journeys.

that said, with the steel ball run anime announced, i've decided to try to rewrite and finish some of my unfinished pieces! including a super old fic series on wpad.

ahem, anyway. a lot has changed; i'd like to think i'm doing way better now mentally. things truly do get better overtime. anyways, hi everyone! it's clover and i'm so happy to be back <3 i'll be writing for many fandoms at once, so let's have fun! regardless of the interactions i'll receive, i really look forward to sharing my work wif everyone again.

[cloverque]

up on tokio hill (msby bj)

masterlist, ch 1: the newbie is our new housemaid! (not)

upon arriving in tokio hill, a misunderstanding occurs the moment you show up. your new housemates seem like a lot to deal with– and a lot more handsome than you expected. but things will work out, will it not?

5488 words

“I swear I’ll call security on ya if ya don’t leave right now!” The blonde man before you shook his phone in the air, ready to fulfil his threat. His orbs were flaming with the fury of a thousand suns and his face was pulled back to a snarl– he looked like he was ready to drop-kick you out of the house itself.

“I’m sure this is a misunderstanding. I don’t even know what’s going on!” You held up your hands defensively and stood firmly (as much as you could without shaking).

The urge to take flight in the face of a livid, insanely handsome dude was so strong that you may just leave the country altogether. This was definitely not the way you imagined your first day at the share-house would go.

“Everyone calm down!” Another man begged. Behind the silver haired man is an oven with smoke leaking out of. His hands were held up as well, like the scene in Jurassic World and the raptors.

For the love of the gods, Uncle Tai, what have I gotten myself into…?

(A few hours ago…)

Tokio Hill was a quiet suburb in the outskirts of the city. It wasn’t exactly what it sounded when Uncle Tai had introduced it– you’d imagine it was a bumpy piece of land with tall grass and mice scurrying about. According to Google, it was home to plenty of rich folks, celebrities and some of Japan’s biggest sensations. It used to be a paparazzi hotspot until the local authorities decided to protect the inhabitants by conducting regular security checks. There were even a couple of police outposts in the area.

It was a wonder how a normal person could afford living in such a high end place. If it weren’t for your ‘niece discount’, you would never have moved into the area. Uncle Tai barely told you about the other tenants, but they must have been loaded. With that said…

“How on earth did Uncle Tai bag this place?” You wondered aloud as you stood outside a gated property, a pet carrier in one hand and a luggage bag in another.

This house was unlike the (extravagant) others down the road. An off white coat of paint with a deep, navy blue roof. It had a number of floors, you guessed three altogether. The fence had barely any gaps between them, preventing you from peeking through. It did a splendid job obscuring the ground floor from public view, but the other floors were visible.

A meow came from the carrier. You peered inside; a stubby Sphynx sat comfortably inside, whiskers twitching curiously. You slipped your fingers through the gaps to rub its hairless head.

“Oh Meru, I guess our new life starts today,” you whispered. Its bright blue eyes twinkled with (what you assumed was) curiosity. Your pet mewed back as you returned your focus to the house.

It all starts here. A fresh start. You inhaled deeply then exhaled. It’ll work out– it has to.

You approached a smaller gate that was off to the side of the entrance. A silver intercom was built into the gate. You pressed the biggest button, probably the doorbell. It didn’t take long before you got a response.

Static buzzed from the intercom. A man’s voice crackled, “...Ello? Hey, hello?”

You straightened up, “Hi! I’m new here. Today’s my first day, and–“

“Oh, I know you! Yeah, come on in,” The man interrupted. The crackling stopped and you the gate clunked. Gingerly, you pushed it open and entered the estate.

The front yard was huge, accommodating two shiny cars and a front yard. Concrete seemed to extend around the area, tall enough that you doubted you’d be able to see the other side without a ladder. Lining the walls were hedges; green and freshly trimmed. Off to a corner was a grassy area with an outdoor swing and bird fountain. A fish carved from stone spewed a steady stream of water into the pool.

Your eyes wandered around as you moved towards the main door. Footsteps thudded inside the house before the door swung open. A giant loomed over you and Meru. Your pet cat and you simultaneously tilted your heads up to look at him– a man with silver hair, peppered with grey tips. He was all smiles in a frilly apron.

This guy must be almost two metres tall! Both your cat and you stared in awe. You stared holes at the super girly apron. A magical girl was printed on the front. M-Moe gap…

“I was expecting you! Come on in,” he patted his hands on the apron, “I’m in the middle of something, so you can just do the second floor first.”

“Okay. Wait, what-?”

An alarm sounded inside the house. The man whipped his head towards the source before turning back to you. “Uh oh, we gotta hurry! Come on in already,” Without hesitation, he grabbed your hand and pulled you into the house.

You clambered in, luggage and all, and Meru screeched from its rocking carrier. Full of apologies, you tried to console your pet whilst he shut the door. He noticed Meru, who stood on its haunches at the salt and pepper haired man.

“You can leave your things here first,” He gestured where you stood. When you set Meru on top of the shoe cabinet at the entrance, he reached out to you. His larger hand enveloped your wrist effortlessly and he began pulling you along. His hold was gentle enough so as to not bruise, but secure enough to make sure you couldn’t run. The unwarranted warmth on your wrist gave you goosebumps.

What on earth was going on? This was some sort of misunderstanding, right? Before you could process that thought, he stopped at the end of the hallway, where a closet awaited. He rummaged through it and produced a few items.

“Here’s what you’ll need. This, this– oh, this too…” Without looking, he handed you cleaning tools: bleach, sprays, gloves and more.

As he progressively piled more into your arms, the alarm continued beeping in the background. You practically cradled the load, “Umm, mister, I don’t think I’m who you think I am. I’m actually-”

The man ran off to the kitchen, where a cloud of grey began seeping from an oven. He screeched incoherently and began fussing over whatever it was inside. As he began murmuring to himself, you sighed. There was no way of getting through to him. At least, not now.

You took in the living room slowly. In the corner of the house was a flight of stairs. The rest of the place was split into three areas: the lounge, dining area and kitchen. The lounge was furnished with a massive flat screen television and a long couch. In-between was a paper strewn coffee table and magazines haphazardly stacked. Meanwhile, the kitchen was occupied by none other than the silver haired man, who stood by marble countertops. There was an island table as well, though it seemed counterintuitive when there was a dining table present.

The layout of the place was exactly like the photos Uncle Tai had sent you. And the place was big. As expected of a private estate in a posh area. Again, how did your good for nothing uncle score this place…?

You looked at your cleaning supplies. He said just the second floor, right? Maybe he’d listen to you afterwards. You waved goodbye to Meru and began your way up the flight of stairs, tools in hand.

When you reached the second floor, you peered around the corners to view the hallway. There were three rooms available, two on either side. One of the doors had a little sign that read ‘bath and laundry’. You peeked inside: there was a common area with a sink and mirror that stretched across one wall. Laundry machines and baskets were on the other end, with one of the baskets piled up with off-white sheets. You walked deeper in and into the connected shower room, which had a huge bathtub. On the shelves built into the walls were a mess of different bottles of miscellaneous hygiene items.

There was a lot to be done, you realised as you walked out of the shower room. You approached the laundry and realised there were jars of different powders on the shelves hanging above the laundry machines. There was even a note, a handwritten one with a few annotations. You scrutinised it with a squint.

“For every extra bedsheet, use a third of a cup of detergent. Only use this brand of fabric softener for the sheets. I will come after you if they are not properly washed,” You read aloud. A giggle escaped you, “What the heck? They sound like a troublesome person.”

You eyed the baskets– you could start with this one. The instructions written by the troublesome person could guide you for your first task. The counters and shelves could do some wiping and reorganising as well.

“Guess I better get started,” You left to return downstairs, “I better set these things down first before I drop them.”

While you laid out your cleaning appliances, a man entered the laundry-cum-wash room. The man pulled his shirt over his head, ruffling his blonde hair. It fell to the floor, along with the sweatpants he had shimmied out of. He swooped up his clothes and hung them over one of the baskets. Quietly, he closed the bathroom door behind him, forgoing the decision to lock it. After a shower, he stepped into the bathtub for a soak. With a long arm draped over one side, he closed his eyes and began dozing off. Unbeknownst to him, on the other side of the door, you had begun to do the laundry.

　The tumbling of laundry filled the room. You watched the sheets toss and turn inside the machines as you squatted, hands on your knees. Thanks to the meticulously written notes, it was easy to figure out the buttons and amount of detergent to use. While they were washing, you wiped down the counters and surfaces. Your cleaning rags were coiled up in the bottom of the pail beside you.

While cleaning, you came to the conclusion that the guy in the kitchen had mistaken you for a cleaner. Uncle Tai must have told the tenants that you’d be here, right? There’s no way that bozo would forget to inform them… right?

“Knowing him, maybe it’s not out of the picture,” you sighed and rested your face in your hands.

You heard footsteps from the hallway and your face lit up. Was he finally free to speak? You turned expectantly but came face to face with another stranger. A half-naked man wrapped in a towel around his torso stood at the doorway of the shower. His hands tried to hide his exposed chest and his face was…

Oh– This isn’t good.

He let out an ear-piercing scream.

. . .

Oh right, so that’s what had led up to this situation.

You blinked at the blonde who droned on about the cops and trespassing. This guy was a broken record, nothing was going through him. His shoulders heaved up and down aggressively. Was it from anxiety or anger? It was hard to tell.

“Tsum-tsum, you gotta chill out! It’s the new maid Taichii hired, remember? He told us about it last week!” the silver haired man clarified. He still adorned the frilly apron with the magical girl.

“The new maid’s only supposed to be here when we ain’t around, ya moron!” The blonde man said, eyes wide. “I can’t believe ya let a stalker into the house, Bo-kun! Besides, it looks like she’s moving in, not cleaning for the day!”

He jabbed a finger in the direction of your luggage. Meru, who had been anxious throughout, flinched. It hissed in the direction of a frowning ‘Tsum-Tsum’.

You blocked his line of sight to Meru, “Woah there, you’ve really got the wrong idea. I’m not your stalker because firstly, I swear to the gods that I don’t even know who you are. And secondly, I’m your new housemate– I have the contract and texts to prove it!”

The blonde raised his brows before returning to his scowl. He seemed to ponder it over.

“Huh? So you aren’t our new housemaid?” The man named ‘Bo-kun’ blinked incessantly.

“Or a stalker?” The blonde folded his arms crossly.

Before you could retort, the main door clicked open.

“I’m home!” You heard a voice call out. Footsteps thumped in the hallway before another man appeared in the scene. This person carried a bag of groceries in one hand, and a cap in another. His bright ginger hair contrasted against the cream walls of the living room.

“I saw another pair of shoes at the entrance. Is (l/n)-san finally-“ He made eye contact with you and the others, “–What’s going on?”

“Hinata! Help–” Apron guy cried as the ginger hurried over. “Tsum-tsum thinks our new maid is a stalker-!”

“For the love of– How many times must I tell you guys that I’m neither!” You threw up your hands in desperation.

The ginger blinked once at you before looking at the others, “Did you guys forget? Taichii-san’s niece is joining us here starting today. Isn’t this (l/n)-san?”

The three men turned their heads to you. A long sigh escaped you. It seemed like they would finally listen. Thank the gods for this man named Hinata.

　Meru roamed freely in the living room, sniffing the kitchen counters. It approached the oven, which was half-open. A tray of burnt cookies sat inside, and your cat ran off after a tentative sniff. Meanwhile, you stared at the men sitting across from you. They had introduced themselves briefly, and the three men across from you were known as Atsumu, Hinata and Bokuto.

Uncle Tai forgot to mention that I’ll be living with a bunch of dudes, you side-eyed your sphynx. As if it could hear your thoughts, the hairless cat mewed back.

“I’m so sorry, (l/n)-san,” Bokuto blushed. He sat across you at the dinner table, his forehead practically squished against the surface as he bowed apologetically. His form was shrunken with embarrassment, his broad shoulders drawn in.

Atsumu sipped on his mug of coffee. He appeared indignant over the situation, as much as someone could be after accusing an innocent person of a crime. He would send not so inconspicuous gazes your way too. As you stared pointedly, your eyes met and he averted his gaze. An irk mark formed on your head.

This guy hates to swallow his pride, huh? What an asshole.

Whilst sparks flew between the two of you, Hinata scratched his cheek. He sat in between the others awkwardly. “This vibe makes me feel like I should apologise too…”

“It’s been a while since I heard of the news and I… completely forgot… and mixed up the housecleaning visit with your moving in. I’m terribly sorry for making you clean the place up–!” Bokuto added, still grovelling.

You held up your mug of coffee, “It’s fine now, Bokuto-san. And please, there’s no need for you to do this. It’s okay.”

He lifted his head cautiously and you reassured him with a nod. You took a tentative sip.

“How can we make it up to you?” Hinata spoke up, to which you rubbed your chin.

Meru mewed at the foot of the table. You lit up and turned to the trio, “Oh, I know. How about you show me around the house?”

It didn’t take much convincing for a house tour. Although, a certain blonde had slipped away during the tour, refusing to entertain your questions. The remaining duo properly showed you around the house, including the backyard. They shared that sometimes, they would have barbecues with friends, though rarely. You learned that Atsumu and Bokuto stayed on the second floor, which probably explained how the former had entered the bathroom without you knowing, due to it being right across his room. Meanwhile, Hinata, another tenant and you stayed on the third floor. As for the toilets…

When you enquired about it, the guys exchanged a look before Hinata sheepishly said, “Taichii-san had specifically requested that you use the third floor’s bathroom only… Um, he mentioned that it wouldn’t be right for a lady to share a bathroom with men she had no familial relation with.”

“Oh, I’m sorry if I’m being a bother,” Your eyes widened.

“It’s totes fine. We’re not at home much... Besides, we only have toilet fights when Tsum-tsum’s in the kitchen. Which is rare-” Bokuto rambled before Hinata slapped a hand over his mouth. The man with salt and pepper hair blinked in confusion.

“Don’t worry about it!” The ginger grinned. You raised a brow. That wasn’t reassuring one bit.

They led you to your room and the duo retreated downstairs. You watched them leave with Meru in your arms. You stood outside a room, the only one with a sign hanging on the door. It was your name arranged in hiragana with wooden blocks. A flower was even glued to the end.

Does Uncle Tai think I’m still in preschool? You tried to take it down only to realise it was superglued to the door. An irk mark formed on your head. A certain bozo was about to hear it from me later on the phone…

You closed the door behind you and set Meru down. Its tail trembled curiously as it inspected the floor. Gazing around the room, you noted the stacks of cardboard boxes in a corner. Huh, Uncle Tai really wasn’t lying when he said this place was bigger. You sat down on the bed. The naked mattress was soft yet firm, awaiting to be clothed in sheets. The evaporated stains of cleaning liquid on surfaces notified you of its recent cleaning. And much to your pleasure, the room was modestly furnished the way you had requested it to be. Just a table, wardrobe and cabinet.

Suddenly, you were reminded of your luggage at the door. You had forgotten about it during the chaos. It was the least of your worries when you were dealing with the probability of being arrested. You opened your door and peeked out of the room. Unexpectedly, your luggage bag was waiting outside. You glanced around the hall and at the stairs.

Someone has helped you out! You watched for any movement at the stairs but neither saw nor heard anything. With gratitude, you muttered thanks and wheeled it in.

You spent the rest of your time unboxing and decorating your room. Meru helped by laying on the bed and its new sheets. It dozed off in the warmth that filtered through your windows. You made quick work of unpacking clothes and arranging your decorations and merchandise. As you finished setting up your monitors, you pondered over the earlier argument.

Why did the blonde guy react so explosively earlier? Was he a celebrity of sorts? You were certain that you were up to date with pop culture, but neither his face nor name rang a bell. Though you wouldn’t doubt if he wasn’t famous. He was as prickly as a sea-urchin but undeniably a handsome man. You rummaged through your pop culture schemas but produced nothing.

A thump outside your room broke your train of thought. You peeked past your door to investigate and found yet another giant in the hallway. What did the tenants of this house eat…? This man was dressed in a stylish turtleneck and coat, and he stood across you, fiddling with the keys to his room.

Suddenly, Meru mewed. The man in the coat spun around, keys in hand. Your cat yawned and nuzzled the bed. You met his obsidian eyes nervously.

“Umm, hello…” You started. He stared back.

Despite wearing a mask, he was also quite the looker. Why was this house full of good looking dudes? Was he a celebrity of sorts too? The man had a mop of curly dark hair atop his head and two moles above an eyebrow. Wait, two moles? Your eyes widened in recognition, “Sakusa Kiyoomi!?””

Sakusa knitted his brows together. His mask twitched as he spoke, “Do I know you?”

“Are you for real? We attended class together in highschool . Remember, with your cousin Komori-kun. I was with you for all three years!” You gestured at yourself. He stared hard, as if considering what you had just said.

Heavy footsteps filled the stairway and Bokuto reappeared, “Oh! I see you guys have met already. That’s awesome,” He grinned and gestured over his shoulder, “C’mon, we’re heading out for dinner!”

“Huh? But I just got back,” Sakusa rubbed his temples with a sigh.

Bokuto simply placed his hands on his hips, “It won’t be good if you miss out, Yoomi! Besides, we’re having a welcome party!”

　By the time you set foot, it was already evening. The restaurant they intended to visit was within walking distance, on the outskirts of the city that edged towards the suburbs. Rows of shops were situated on one side of a river, where cherry trees lined along. With spring fleeing from Japan’s grasp, the trees had already lost most of their blossoms. That didn’t stop you from catching a lone fluttering blossom as you stood outside a restaurant. Warm light filtered through the paper screen doors as the sign above read Onigiri Miya.

The guys opened the doors and a windchime rang in the doorway. You peeked past their broad shoulders to take in the place. The interior was a modest mixture of Japanese and modern design, with cream walls and wooden floorboards. Customers dined at the counter that looped around the kitchen or on the floors, at the low tables. The clamour of conversation and oil crackling was almost homely, like the izakayas in back home. As your eyes scanned the place, a waiter with freckles practically bounded towards your group.

“It’s been a while since I last saw you guys!” The boy said. He must have been in high school with his doe-like gaze.

“Sup,” Atsumu grinned. He was surprisingly cheery despite the earlier situation, “Is Samu here?”

“He left earlier for a catering event. The boss has been busy lately!” He noticed you and quickly added, “Oh, who’s this?”

“She’s our new housemate. Taichii’s niece,” Hinata added, gesturing at you with a smile. You nodded shyly and the waiter beamed.

“Arighty! My name is Yuuma and I’ll be your waiter for the day!” He swooped up a few menus and gestured, “Please follow me!”

Yuuma led everyone to the back of the restaurant. This area was partitioned off with screen doors, and it was far quieter here. These rooms must be reserved for special customers. You entered the room last and everyone took their seats, leaving the only open spot next to Atsumu. It wasn’t your intention to sit beside him, so you made it clear by respectfully scooting an inch away from him. After inspecting the menu, and with thoughtful insight from the guys, you decided on a warm bowl of curry udon, with a side of a speciality onigiri.

An awkward silence fell in the room the moment Yuuma left to place the orders. You half-heartedly scratched the fabric of your clothes when Hinata spoke up.

“We haven’t had a proper opportunity to introduce ourselves, so let me start,” the ginger smiled. His amber eyes held a homely warmth that could melt the barriers of anybody’s heart. He gestured at himself, “I’m Hinata Shouyou. It’s a pleasure to meet you!”

“I’m (l/n) (y/n). The pleasure is mine,” You bowed your head. Mirroring Hinata’s smile, you added, “Uncle Tai and I share the same family name, so feel free to call me (y/n), if you’d like.”

“Can I call you (y/n)-chan? That’s such a pretty name!” Bokuto straightened up and thumbed at his chest, “Ah– And I’m Koutarou Bokuto! It’s real nice to meet ‘cha!”

Bokuto’s gaze arrowed at the blonde beside you. The former seemed to be staring expectantly for him to introduce himself. Maybe because of the awkward incident from earlier. Ah… this awkward introduction gave the vibe of adolescents during a mixer, or something.

“Miya Atsumu,” the blonde practically exhaled. He looked at you from the corner of his eyes. He thumped an elbow on the table and rested his chin on it, “Nice to meet ‘cha, I suppose.”

“Y-Yeah, it’s nice to meet you, Miya-san,” Your smile wavered. Even if he mistook you for a stalker.

“Atsumu will do just fine.”

A half hearted sigh escaped you internally. Then there was Sakusa, who seemed disinterested in the conversation from the start. He had his gaze fixated on the wall behind you this whole time. Your eyes met for a brief second.

He spoke up softly, “Sakusa Kiyoomi. But you seem to already know that.”

“I’m surprised you don’t remember me. I was the class president in all our years in high school,” You leaned forward a little. Would that be enough to jog his memory?

Sakusa looked up at the ceiling, seemingly disinterested. You sighed with a dejected smile. Figures. It had been a number of years after graduation. So this reaction wasn’t much of a surprise. Your shoulders drooped in defeat.

“Sooo… does that mean you attended Itachiyama Institute?” Hinata spoke up. “What was Sakusa-san like?”

“I’ve attended since middle school all the way to high school. I may be wrong, but Sakusa-san transferred at the start of his first year of high school,” You lit up. Grinning, you cheekily added, “Girls were all over him for the next three years. It was never a boring day.”

“It was annoying,” Sakusa admitted. His focus remained on anything but you, but he indulged in a half-smile. “The only good memories I had were on the court.”

“Somebody’s shy,” the blonde beside you sniggered, “I’m surprised he had chicks when he’s this much of an asshole– Ow!”

Something thumped under the table. You could only assume Sakusa had kicked Atsumu under. A nervous smile creeped up on your face. Beneath his mask of calm he must have been riled up a little by that comment. Who knew he’d grown to be so petty.

Meanwhile, Atsumu grinded his teeth, “Fall over and shrivel up!”

The waiter returned with trays in hand. In a sing-song voice, he said, “Atsumu-san, please keep it down.”

Atsumu rolled his eyes and pouted. What was he, five? While Atsumu hyper-fixated on a dent in the floor, Bokuto helped Yuuma place the dishes on the table while Hinata began distributing cutlery. You took a pair of chopsticks and pulled your meal closer to you. The five of you shared a quiet meal, as much as one could when a blonde was seething beside you.

After some time had passed, you asked, “So are you all from the Kansai region? Except for Atsumu-san, the rest of you don’t sound like it.”

“Yoomi and I are from the capital, but Hinata’s from Miyagi.” Bokuto responded with a mouth full of ebifry. He took a swig of beer before exclaiming, “Woo! This stuff is great!”

Sakusa leaned away from Bokuto, a disgusted expression on his features. He shifted his meal away from the guy, who dropped a shrimp tail from his mouth. Meanwhile, Atsumu nagged at the guy to eat less sloppily.

Hinata chuckled before turning to you, “Yup, I’m from the more rural side of the prefecture. What about (l/n)-san?”

“I also lived in the countryside up until grade school. That’s when I moved to Tokyo,” you took a bite of a potato. It was soft and tender, like the rest of the veggies in the curry.

“I totally get it,” Hinata grinned. I can imagine it was a big change!”

“And now you moved from Tokyo to Osaka.” Bokuto prodded with half another ebifry sticking out from his lips. “Why’s that?”

You stopped mid bite. You raised your head to meet Bokuto’s eyes. The others were preoccupied with their food, but that didn’t mean that they weren’t listening. Like wisps of steam on a hot day, your appetite dissolved. Suddenly your curry udon and speciality onigiri didn’t smell so appetising anymore. With a far off look in your eyes, you managed a timid smile.

“I… guess I needed a change of pace.”

. . .

“And then she said to me… ‘Who do you think you are, asshole?!... And- Oh, I don’t feel sho gud…’” Gurgled Bokuto, who remained limp in Hinata and Sakusa’s grasps. They were practically dragging him at this rate, with how in and out of consciousness he was.

“He’s a goner,” Sakusa announced. He jabbed a finger into Bokuto’s face before clicking his tongue, “I even told him to hold back a little.”

Hinata chuckled. The tips of his ears were dusted pink but not as saturated as Bokuto’s. “He’s the life of a party. You’d know by now that Bokuto-san can’t stop once he starts.”

“I’m well aware of my teammate’s awful drinking habits, but we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow. He’s going to whine about his hangover during practice…” Sakusa trailed off.

Night had long fallen upon Osaka, and the way back was arduous with a passed out drunk in your party. You laughed light heartedly as the trio in front of you stumbled over a pebble. A flurry of insults at the unconscious man in the group spewed from Sakusa. Poor Hinata tried to defuse the situation on behalf of a man who was too drunk to care. Frankly, it was hilarious.

“What’s so funny?” Atsumu mumbled beside you. He was also tipsy, but not as bad as Bokuto. The two of you trailed behind the others.

Your smile fell, “Umm, it’s nothing.” You didn’t want him to misunderstand, so you quickly added, “I haven’t had this much fun in a while. I’m really happy.”

He hummed, seemingly in thought. A few moments of silence passed, and just when you figured that was the end, he muttered.

“Hey, about earlier.”

“Earlier…?”

“You know what I’m talking about,” the blonde said quickly, jamming his fists into the pocket of his hoodie. The warm light emanating from the street lamps cast a gentle glow on the contours of his handsome face. His brows furrowed, “I’ll be honest with ya, I jumped to conclusions and said some pretty awful things, my bad.”

He must not have been used to this– he was chewing on his bottom lip. It looked like it took everything in him to apologise, if you could consider this an apology.

The corners of your lips tilted up, “It’s okay. I would’ve been pretty spooked if some stranger appeared in my bathroom too. I may have done the same.”

“Oh, I mean. It’s not like ya did something wrong. Something like this happened before… sorta.”

This had happened before? Your surprised gaze was missed by Atsumu, who fixated on the path ahead. His eyes were downcast, and you frowned. With a face like his, it wouldn’t be out of the question to have obsessive fans. But stalkers were a different thing, no?

“I think I misjudged you,” you commented. “You seem like an okay guy, Atsumu-san.”

He gave you the side eye, “Hey, just because I apologised doesn’t mean you can make fun of me.”

“You call that an apology?” You chuckled when Hinata called out suddenly.

“(l/n)-san, Atsumu-san! Can you help buy us some painkillers? We ran out and need some for Bokuto-san tomorrow!” He gestured at the FamilyMart nearby.

Atsumu groaned. He flashed an okay-sign to the guys before looking at you. “Boy, yer going to witness an ugly sight tomorrow. We’re going to buy five different types of painkillers only for Bokuto to refuse to eat any.”

He entered the store first. Staring at his back, you looked behind your shoulder at Hinata, Sakura and Bokuto. They were fussing over the guy in the middle whose eyes were barely open.

A smile crept up your face. Who knows? Maybe living with these guys is going to be alright.

“(y/n)-san,” Atsumu called. He stood at the doorway, arms crossed.

“Be there in a second!” You hurried over, shoes clacking on the pavement.

With the trio waiting outside, Atsumu and you searched the aisles for medicine. You took a handful which Atsumu dumped into a basket. As the two of you waited in line, your phone– which you had left behind on your desk– buzzed with notifications.

[cloverque]

up on tokio hill (msby bj)

masterlist, prologue

1256 words

People will believe in whatever they want. Human minds are fickle– they will take your words as truth then turn against you the moment they please. Naturally, their beliefs and biases fuel their actions. If they hold you dearly, they are likely to side with you, even if you’re wrong. And if they hate you… Well, they will go out of their way to destroy everything you have.

Night’s gentle beams failed to penetrate the thick binds that lined along your window. Wrapped in blankets, you sat at the foot of your bed. You hid in its welcoming shadows, clutching yourself. Just like Eve after she had consumed the fruit of knowledge, you shook like a leaf with grief. Your body shivered as you sobbed into your phone.

“I tried everything, Uncle Tai… Hic… I-I swear!” You blew your nose into a tissue. The thin sheet of fiber was clearly overused; it was soaked through. You clenched it in your fist nevertheless and shook it. “My manager said there was n-nothing she could do…”

The line was mostly silent besides episodic sighs. On the other side of the phone, your uncle was seated in a bubbling jacuzzi under a blanket of stars. He swirled his sparkling glass of mojito. His phone was sandwiched between his ear and shoulder.

“So let me get this straight. Your agency fired you over a scandal involving a series of explicit content… That was anonymously posted by someone impersonating you?"

You nodded and clenched your teeth, “It’s ridiculous right? It’s so stupid–"

“And even without concrete proof, they decided to terminate your contract anyway…? Man, saying this sucks just doesn’t cut it.”

Shoulders drooping, you sniffled. Your relative hummed, deep in thought as he sipped on his drink. Meanwhile, you hugged your knees tighter to your chest.

You’d been given a week’s notice before your company fired you. Today was the day when they’d announced your leave. It didn’t matter that you were their highest earning Vtuber or most popular member. Didn’t matter that most of Japan recognised you. The countless billboards of your virtual model and merchandise posters in the cities meant nothing anymore.

All that mattered to this damned company was money, and in their eyes, you had tarnished their reputation.

A memory of your first livestream as your character flashed in your mind. You remembered the giddiness and jitters on your first day. The smiles and laughter filled on that day. Awkward rambles, elated cheers and the promises you’d made with your fans that you’d do your best.

The memory made you queasy and you resisted the urge to throw up. You squeezed your phone tightly.

“Curse it all… It wasn’t even me in the video to begin with,” You tossed the soggy tissue into a bin by the bed. It missed and you groaned. Falling back onto the bed, you bounced on the mattress for a few seconds. Your phone was warm in your cold, weak grasp.

The scandal was a hot one, the hottest you’d ever been involved with. So far it had been minor incidents, such as claims of your identity, real-life leaks such as college photos (FYI, not yours). Even non-existing drama with other famous Vtubers. Tabloid presses worked hard to tarnish your reputation since day one.

You knew it would never be this easy being a public figure, or virtual one, but still, for someone to go so far to taint your name? Whoever the devious rat was– and boy, would you love to give them a piece of your mind– they had leaked an adult tape tagged under your character’s name. It wouldn’t have been such a big day if it weren’t for the fact that the lady in it was built just like the girls from the leaked real-life photos and sounded exactly like you. It only cemented the delusions of the anti fans, supporting their deranged theories.

What was most disappointing was the fact that many of your fans had turned against you. Meanwhile, the sensible ones had questioned the film’s authenticity, but their empathy was drowned out by a tsunami of sea of hate, disgust and confusion.

Well, I guess I can’t really blame them… The bastard hacked into my Twitter account and posted it there too.

You had addressed it with your company and tried to prove your innocence. Unfortunately your promises and tears were just empty words to them. The board said that they wanted to believe you, but they couldn’t when the digital footprint of the uploader was pinpointed to you. So instead of investigating further, they chose to let you go. It was truly disappointing AND humiliating.

Uncle Tai frowned and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “So what will you do now? I know the media doesn’t know your true identity but you shouldn’t bring any attention to yourself, (y/n).”

You stared up at the ceiling blankly. The fan spun languidly overhead, undisturbed by your chokes and snot. A frown crossed your tear stricken face.

“I’m so lost right now, Uncle Tai. I have no clue what to do–“ A beep alerted you to your screen. You checked it and groaned. “ Shit . I totally forgot that my contract ends in two months too."

“You mean the tiny place you’re renting in Tokyo?”

“Yeah. And it’s not that small.” You rolled your eyes and managed a chuckle. Though it was pretty strained and you hiccuped halfway.

“Bah! Come live here in Osaka, girl. You will love it. It’s a lot better than that blasted concrete jungle. We have far better hot springs too!” He practically shouted and you pulled your phone away from your ear.

“Don’t act like you’re not chilling in Shanghai, Uncle!” You yelled back, and the man belted out a chorus of laughter.

He began his list of excuses and you drowned them out in your thoughts. You grimaced. This was too sudden (and really spontaneous) but maybe this was good timing? You could get away from the city, away from this place with your memories as the Vtuber Cheri and live a quiet life in Osaka. It was a big step moving to another city. But maybe this was a blessing in disguise..?

“If I move there, do you have any units available?”

“I do have one in a pretty lovely location. It’s in a classy suburb, ain’t not too far from the city either. Called Tokio Hill. If you move there you’d have plenty of quiet. You up for it?”

You blinked and shut your eyes. Finally, the tears had dried up and your sobs had been reduced to croaky mumbles.

“I’ll… think about it,” you answered tentatively. “You won’t overcharge me because I’m your niece, right?”

“Now what kind of uncle would I be if I did that?” He chuckled. You smiled back.

After exchanging a few lighthearted jokes, you ended the call. You snuck one more glance at the tweet that plagued you for days.

Ah, whatever. It’s no use crying anymore.

You tossed your phone somewhere on the bed. Lethargy had finally caught up to you and your eyelids began drooping close. As you crossed an arm over your eyes, thoughts floated over your head.

Maybe this was the break you deserved after years of slaving away for a company that deserted you. You managed an empty laugh and drifted off to sleep. As you descended into the plane of dreams, your uncle began texting a chain of messages in a group chat.

[cloverque]

up on tokio hill (msby bj)

synopsis: your days as japan's top vtuber are over after a spicy scandal. with your contract terminated (and lease expiring), you decide to leave the past behind and relocate to osaka. located in the quiet suburbs of tokio hill, you move into a share house owned by your uncle, under the impression that your fellow tenants are unassuming and withdrawn like you. unbeknownst to you, four famous athletes are living under one roof. and with you in the picture, this makes five.

multi-chapter series ft. msby bj and other hq!! characters (social media + writing)

slice of life, shoujo-genre ish, the boys always get into questionable situations

masterlist.

prologue

ch 1: the newbie is our new housemaid! (not)

[cloverque]

to where the willows weep (richter belmont)

masterlist, teaser

645 words

To Richter, vampires were categorised into two archetypes: evil and super effing evil. After hundreds of fights against these foul creatures, he realised that there was no such thing as a harmless vampire. How could a blood-drinking monster possibly be a good Samaritan, really? How could a monster that lived off the blood of sentient, living beings be anything but evil?

The probability of such a creature existing was nil, none, nada. Long ago he learnt the hard way that vampires were all evil. There was no in between. No room for negotiation.

When he wielded his mother’s whip for the first time– he swore on his family’s name that he would vanquish all vampires he encountered. There would be no mercy shown to these creatures of the night, for they were undeserving.

The moment you pulled down your mask, his hand instantly flew to his whip. The brunette backed up instinctively, creating distance between the two of you. You looked up from the bag on your lap, flowers in hand. Confusion shone in your eyes when he pointed accusingly at you.

“I know what you are,” he breathed. The young Belmont’s fingers found the handle of his weapon. “You’re one of them.”

You blinked slowly. In the presence of moonlight, your robed figure seemed to glow. “Oh. So you’ve figured it out.”

A sea of clouds rolled over Luna's wane, steadily shrouding the forest in darkness. As you slowly stood, Richter steadied his breathing. His grip on his whip tightened. Should you pounce–like all the other vampires before you– he was sure to separate your head from your body.

You gingerly pulled back your hood, revealing a pair of elongated ears pinned to the sides of your head. And the biggest giveaway–your fangs– which had been hidden behind your mask until now, glinted as your lips trembled.

“I’m really sorry. I had no choice but to keep it a secret,” You whispered. A beam of moonlight fell on you as the clouds rolled past. “I mean no harm.”

“How can I possibly trust you?” The brunette furrowed his brows. He jammed his finger in your direction. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t lob your head off!”

All he needed was for you to lurch at him. That would be his signal to end everything. This contract between the two of you meant nothing now that he knew what you truly were. Maybe the willow tree you claimed to be searching was made up from the start. Perhaps what you truly desired was a taste of his blood, just like dozens of other vampires. The taste of a Belmont’s blood.

Richter clenched his teeth at the thought. Perhaps the girl standing before him was a liar all along. And he did not take kindly to those who made a fool out of him.

Meekly, you clutched the little bouquet to your chest. From where he stood, the flowers were tiny coloured dots against your chest.

“I know it’s hard to believe but I’ve never drank a drop of blood after I was turned, honest. I’ve never harmed a single soul. Please… don’t be mad.”

Cautiously, you took a step forward. He took one step back. Richter unfurled his whip, steering himself for combat. You stopped moving and dropped your hands to your side.

You met his steady blue gaze sadly. Was this how it would end?

Suddenly, a wail pierced the air. A tremendous force shook the earth and you stumbled and fell on your knees. The flowers crumpled onto the dirt as you turned your gaze to the sky. A massive creature hovered above the trees, wings snapping as it howled. The trees shook from the flapping of its wings, raining a storm of leaves upon you two.

You held up a forearm to shield your eyes. This was sure to get messy.

[cloverque]

to where the willows weep (richter belmont)

synopsis: in search of a rare willow, an apothecary sails from her homeland in the east to france. she lacks a bodyguard, and rumour has it that a certain young man in the town of machecoul is up for hire. so long as you have the money, that is.

multi-chapter short series, pre-nocturne

18th century, may be historically inaccurate (but i will try my best), mix povs, kind of gory!, more of a personal self-insert so it won't be inclusive of all ethnicities, setting is inspired by the netflix animated series… not konami's video games

masterlist.

teaser

[cloverque]

paper heart (prosciutto)

masterlist, ch 2: the wolf and its flower

the aftermath of the party still bothers you until this day. nevertheless, with only one day left before take off, you decide to get your head in the game. but who would you meet in the streets of naples today...?

2795 words

The sun's shining a little brighter than usual today, you thought. From the cracks between your fingers, you gazed at the sky. In your grasp was a lacy parasol, which you promptly opened up and held overhead. A pair of children kicked a ball past you and ran into the alley you stepped out from.

The weather forecast stated that today would be a sunny day with no clouds in sight. They were right for the most part; but there was no way this summer heat was just thirty degrees celsius.

As you strolled down the streets of Naples, you thought about the gala– a numbing memory that burned itself in the corners of your mind. You stopped at a pedestrian crossing, staring pointedly at the traffic light. Glaring red flashed languidly.

Giorno and you had not spoken since that day. Shortly after meeting his fiancé, you slipped away using your stand. Knowing Giogio, he was sure to notice something was amiss, especially when you missed this week's tea party. But he never reached out once.

I wonder if he even cares.

Stunned by the intrusive thought, you shook your head to dispel it. Today was the last day before your mission. This was not the right time to brood over a man– you knew better than that. Relationships and familial ties were the leading cause of failure in missions. You were certain not to disappoint.

Red switched to green and you began crossing the road. As you gripped your parasol, you stared ahead.

But when I return, I'll tell him how I feel. That's fine... right?

. . .

Today's goal was to rendezvous with your coworkers. For years, you have received job details directly from your capo, Signora Lucia. This time, you were instructed to contact a man named Murolo: a member of Passione's information analysis team. He was to brief you on the intricate details of the mission– and like it or not– this likely meant he knew of your position in Passione. Few knew of your identity, and you disliked the idea of another person on the list, but it was a small price to pay.

You continued strolling the streets when you passed by an alleyway. A faint mew alerted you and you perked up. Peering from the shadows was a tiny creature, its tiny tail twitching and ears raised. In its hairless glory, a young Sphynx cat beckoned you closer.

Squatting down, you put your hands on your lap. You cooed and smiled tenderly at it.

The kitten's ears shifted independently before padding over to you. It met your outstretched hand halfway and rubbed its head against your fingers. You gushed in awe and began petting it.

Your smile faltered when you sensed an ominous presence behind you. Instinctively, you dropped low and spun, kicking your leg out to knock them over. Bullseye; you landed a perfect blow and they fell over.

"Mew!" The kitten fled into the safety of the shadows as you righted yourself to full height, towering over the stranger laying on the floor.

It was a man in a trench coat. A hat and a pair of sunglasses laid a few feet away from him, its lenses shattered and fragments dispersed randomly on the concrete.

"Oh... geez," A groan rumbled from his throat. The man lifted his head, "I didn't know Italians welcomed foreigners with violence."

You met his eyes, "I think anyone with some sense would know that it's rude to sneak up on people," You refuted.

The man sighed as he combed his fingers through his hair. His other hand flapped at you weakly in a 'whatever'.

The stranger was quite the looker, with dark layered hair that curled around his nape. From the shadows of his lengthy, disheveled fringe, there laid a deep scar that ran vertically down his lip to his chin. Contrasting with his Eastern features, he owned a pair of emerald green eyes. Huh, those eyes. They looked an awful lot like a certain mafia boss in mind.

"No offence, but you look like a mobster, signore."

The man hauled himself onto his feet, rubbing his behind. "First you knock me over and now you insult my style? Consider me charmed."

He scooped up his hat and slapped it onto his head. When he gathered his broken shades- or what was left of it- another groan left him.

You cringed at the lenses-less frame in his hands. "I'm sorry... Would you like me to replace those?"

"They're a vintage piece from an auction I scored in London. There's no way you'd be able to afford it," he muttered. He chucked it into a trash bin and dusted his hands.

Well that was haughty... It certainly does look quite pricey. But when you play a stupid game, you get a stupid price.

He began gathering the goods– or what was left of it– into his paper bag. Fallen produce littered the alleyway, tomatoes squashed and bottles of herbs shattered. As he stuffed a can of cat food into his paper bag, he raised a brow.

"You know what? There is something you can do to make up for it."

You gazed at him questioningly.

"You've got to be kidding me."

The jar in your hands was twenty euros. A singular jar of organic gherkins. Out of anything in this world it just had to be pickled cucumbers. And unreasonably, 'high quality all-natural' gherkins, to boot.

Your head swiveled to the ravenette, "This is ridiculous."

"What are you on about?" He scoffed when he snatched it from your grasp. "I know my worth."

You stared in disdain as he carted it. To make up for it, this stranger made you tag along to replace his groceries. All that was broken and ruined had to be replaced by you. At first you weren't too miffed about it until you saw the sign outside the store.

Penny's Organics. That second word was enough to send you running to the hills. Nevertheless, you were a woman of your word, so here you were.

You checked your watch; half an hour left. The meeting would start soon and you had better hurry. However, the man beside you (who was pondering over Italian herbs) prevented you from scurrying off.

"You must be seriously loaded to afford eating like this," You muttered as you walked beside him, holding the other handle of the basket. Down the aisle, he selected a bottle of extra virgin olive oil. Another eighty euros. He placed it atop a pile of similarly overpriced goods in the cart.

"I'm just paying attention to my health. The garbage most people put into their bodies is astounding. Believe it or not, this is the way to live better, with better food."

"But this is a luxury," you said as the both of you beelined for the cashier. "Realistically most people can't afford to pay this much for groceries. You're privileged, signore."

You lifted the basket onto the conveyor belt. The clerk in charge began scanning the goods.

"That'll be three hundred and sixty three euros," The lady glanced expectantly at the two of you. She tilted the scanner in hand. "Cash or card?"

You side eyed the stranger and he stared back. Reluctantly, you pulled out your purse and took out your card. You sighed and handed her the little silver rectangle.

"Card, please."

What happened next was a blur. When you blinked, you found yourself sitting in a little coffee shop. The same shop that you were told to meet Murolo and Prosciutto. And for some reason, the foreigner was seated on the other side of the table. A set of matching parfaits were on the table. Yours remained untouched, spoon sunken in a pool of whipped cream.

Uh... This is the part where we go our separate ways... Right?

Almost as if he had telepathy, he responded, "Why do you look so confused? This is my thank you."

Your eye twitched, "What for? For putting a dent in my bank account?"

"If you'd like to put it that way," The ravenette chuckled. He scraped the bottom of the glass before checking his watch. You blinked once and a wad of cash was now sat on the table.

"What's this for?" You pointed at the money.

"Ah, leave some here as a tip for the staff. You can keep the rest," He replied as he adjusted his hat and got up. Your confused expression prompted him further, "I was just kidding when I asked you to pay for my groceries. That would be dishonoring my family name."

"Ah, your name– I don't know your name," You stammered, your eyes dashing from the cash to him.

The foreigner froze and held his chin in thought. Then his eyes crinkled as he smiled from ear to ear, "Let's just hope we never meet again, lady," He laughed. Then he walked out the door and left.

You sat in the cafe, alone, an uneaten parfait still waiting for you. In the afternoon heat, cream dribbled down the sides of the glass.

Not too long after, the first person showed up. A lithe man with a Borsellino hat approached you cautiously, a brown leather laptop bag in his hands.

"(l/n), is it?" The man enquired, his voice low in secrecy, "I hope I didn't keep you waiting."

"Murolo, I presume," You exchanged a handshake. "Please, call me (y/n). I'm assuming you already know who I am, so there's no need for any false airs."

He nodded. His eyes were a cunning slant, reminding you of the visage of a shifty fox.

"Indeed, I know everybody in this organisation. In fact, I'm well acquainted with your capo and your team," Murolo smirked, "But I digress. Let's begin, shall we?"

The two of you sat down and he produced a laptop. He slid it towards you, gesturing to open it, so you did. The screen had only one folder present, which you clicked open. A document popped up instantly.

"This mission involves a Chinese diplomat. His name is Luo Langfei–" Murolo said as you scrolled down the word document. A character study had been prepared, and the photo attached showed a middle-aged man sitting on a couch, "–He's a member of a triad in the motherland, a sly fella who pulls strings behind the scenes in the drug trade."

"I can see where this is headed but how exactly does this involve Passione?"

Murolo hesitated. "Lately, we caught wind of suspicious activities between his group and ours."

You reclined in your seat, "You mean some of our men have had dealings with Langfei?"

"Correct," The man pulled a handkerchief out of his jacket. He set it on the table and opened it. A thin vial was before you. Inside it was a red flower with few petals. Most of them had decayed and shriveled, resting at the bottom.

"I'm sure you know Panacotta Fugo. Giogio sent him to investigate these rumours. He found a number of these vials among our men. They refused to spill the beans about its whereabouts, except for one guy. But at the mention of Langfei..." His brows furrowed and he lowered his voice.

"Fugo said that it was a horrifying death. Out of nowhere, hundreds of roots burst out from the man's guts. A long stem sprouted out of his mouth shortly and he suffocated. A red flower bloomed as the man's muscles began atrophying rapidly. He was pronounced dead on the spot."

A long moment of silence followed. Something heavy hung in the air, something akin to horror and discomfort. A lump sat in your throat, and you swallowed hard. Was it wrong for you to say that you were glad it wasn't you who witnessed that?

You held your chin. Could that also be why Fugo insisted on escorting you during the gala? Had you known what he saw, you probably would have cut the poor guy some slack. Feeling a tinge of guilt, you closed your eyes.

"That's a horrible way to go... even for a traitor. So Giorno thinks this flower has something to do with it?"

"You hit the nail on the head. This flower here is the same as the one that killed the man. And–" The man in the hat leaned forward. He gazed around before continuing, "–A week ago, the men who attacked the gala carried this flower. We don't know yet of its purpose, but Giogio thinks all of this circles back to Langfei."

You rubbed your chin, thoughtfully. "And so this is where I come in, right? My partner and I will investigate this diplomat. And if it turns out he's the one responsible..."

"I believe that's what I'm here for. His blood will be on my hands."

Standing beside you was none other than a certain blonde from the gala. Your partner and an infamous mobster from the Assassination Team. A wine-purple suit was draped over his shoulders. His hair was styled the same during the gala, pushed back and secured in tiny little notches along his head.

In the bright daylight, you could see the lines under his eyes, a declaration of his age. His blue eyes fell on you, and they widened slightly.

"Hm, I didn't expect to meet you again, signora," A corner of his lips tilted up in a faint smirk, "This must be what people call fate, huh?"

Your lips twitched in a grin, "Perhaps you're right."

Murolo checked his watch. The blonde sat beside you, listening to the informant's brief rerun of the information. As Prosciutto was brought to speed, you began to zone out. Unfortunately, your daydreams ended and you were slapped back to reality by Prosciutto's questioning tone.

"Huh? We're gonna go that far for this mission?" From the slack of his jaw, it seemed he was caught off guard.

You side-eyed him, what's got his panties in a twist? You raised a brow questioningly at the informant across you. The little man with a hat carried an amused expression on his face.

"Did the boss not tell you? For this assignment, the two of you will be playing husband and wife. And you're going on a little trip around the world."

✸

Murolo left the cafe first. Prosciutto and you followed after some time had passed. You silently walked together, down the quiet streets of Naples as dusk painted it in its hues. Your parasol hung from your arm as you drowned in your thoughts.

Tomorrow marked the beginning of the mission. What surprised you was how hastily it was planned. Giorno was sure to receive a nagging from you when you returned, how could he not consult you on the fact that this mission would precariously hinge on your acting skills? Would it even work out? Could you really pull it off?

"I didn't think the boss would want us to go this far," You gazed at the man who broke the silence. A cigarette bud rested between his lips. "I've never done something like this before."

"Same here. The most complicated work I've done was..." You held your tongue, "Well I've never had to play hanky panky with a coworker before."

"'Hanky panky?' We don't have to go that far," He frowned, seemingly displeased with the joke. "Besides, if they wanted a flirtatious man, they should've chosen Melone... Wait, that sounds like a recipe for disaster."

He began murmuring to himself. It seemed like he was putting in a lot of thought into this too. The blonde seemed like a precautious individual. He must be capable, if they selected him among his peers. Maybe the two of you could pull this off.

Taking a few steps forward, you stopped in front of him and gazed up at him. The two of you stood beside a brick-wall building.

"Well, if we're going to pretend to be married, we'd better start practising," You smiled. And I know just how we can do that."

Confusion shone in his eyes as you smiled cheekily. You hooked an arm around his and began pulling him along. He stumbled a little and the bud in his mouth fell onto the floor. As you dragged him down the streets, chattering with ideas, an onlooker in one of the building's units watched from their balcony.

The owner of a pair of emerald green eyes watched curiously, a sphynx cat on their lap. Besides a vase of bright red flowers, a can of cat food sat on a table in the balcony. Deft fingers scratched the creature's wrinkles, eliciting a contented purr.

"I see," He muttered, his eyes following the pair in the street. "This will be interesting."

[cloverque]

paper heart (prosciutto)

masterlist, ch 1: panic at the gala

shortly after you were assigned the mission, giorno cordially invited you to a gala. seeing as how you'll be away from the group for a while, you decided to take part, just this time.

5174 words

After we moisturise, the next step is to apply sunscreen. I use this brand from Dior– the latest Diorsnow sunscreen with UV protection!

You sat on your bathroom counter, swinging your feet. With a Youtube video playing on your phone, you gently patted sunscreen into your face. The girl in the video– a young lady with rich pink hair– showcased a white tube. Yours sat on your lap while other products were scattered on the counter.

I'm a huge fan of this brand. I always buy their best sellers and give them to my best friends.

You smiled knowingly. As the girl on the screen rambled, you began touching up on your face. Just the bare minimum, seeing as how you were already late.

During your meeting with Giorno, which occurred a week ago, he invited you to a party he was hosting. He had handed you a formal invitation, like always: a letter stamped with a wax seal. To attend or not to attend– you sat on the fence until the last minute.

When he first took over, you happily turned up for his gala. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened that day, but you swore off the rest ever since. The reason was simple: you didn't want to work overtime. When you showed up, you quickly realised you had to socialise with coworkers outside usual office hours.

Rest was important! How else would you stay in tip top shape? So there was no way you would sacrifice your precious down-time over fancy parties. Even if they were hosted by Don Giovanna.

So what implored you to accept his invite? Soon you would be deployed for your mission; possibly far from home for a while. With that in mind, you wanted to hang out with your friends for a bit. But besides that, there was another driving factor. You stared at your reflection, stroking your lashes with mascara.

Curiosity, it was curiosity.

"I'd like you to be there. There's... Someone I'd like you to meet," he said that day. He pushed the envelope towards you with a faint smile.

You took it in your hands and blinked. "An important person?"

He fiddled with the ladybug brooch on his chest. A faint tinge of red dusted his cheeks. With a solemn nod, he planted a seed of curiosity in your mind. You never knew he was capable of being abashed.

"I wonder who he's talking about," you pondered as you checked your work. What kind of person were they for him to make that sort of look?

A knock on your bathroom door derailed your train of thought. "(y/n), you've been in there for an hour. What's taking you so long?"

"Oh, Fugo," You carefully swept a balm against your lips. "You should know by now not to rush a lady. Especially when she's in the bathroom."

"Give me a break. I've been standing here waiting like an idiot for thirty minutes."

"Some gentleman you are..." You muttered begrudgingly. It was him who volunteered to chaperone you to the party in the first place.

After his redemption– when he defeated the Narcotics Team for Giogio– he managed to tone it down a notch. The therapy he sought worked out too. His anger management issues had gotten better, but there was still a limit to his patience. And once that figurative thread broke, it would take more than apologies to placate him.

With that in mind, you hopped off the counter. You took one last look in the mirror. Tonight you were dressed in a satin backless dress. Its spaghetti-thin straps criss crossed behind, showing your supple back. The dress also had a side slit that teased your thighs. To complete the look, a silk shawl draped over your shoulders and around your arms.

Your outfit was a perfect mix between sexy and chic. A smile crept up your face and you blew a kiss at your reflection. Feeling like you could take on the world (and a furious Fugo), you were about to leave when you jumped up.

"Ah! I almost forgot," you chuckled and picked up the pin on the counter. It was a hair pin, a metallic accessory fashioned into a unique heart shape. You clipped it onto your hair and hurried out the door.

Standing outside was none other than Pannacotta Fugo, dressed in a custom tuxedo. His hair was pushed back, with a few strands hanging over his knitted brows. The strawberry blonde had his arms crossed, fingers tapping impatiently on his bicep.

"Are you finally done?" He muttered through clenched teeth.

"Gee, thanks for waiting," You rolled your eyes and walked past him. He trembled with frustration, and you almost felt bad. Tardiness was one of his biggest pet peeves, and for him to be late, without meaning too... Well, you had better head out, fast!

You swiftly packed your purse and the two of you left your apartment. At the entrance awaited a squeaky clean limousine. Fugo settled into a seat across from you, muttering about how embarrassingly unpunctual he was. You glanced out the window and as the car's engine revved to life again, you began to drown him out. The car picked up speed and zoomed to its destination: Giorno's mansion.

✶

By the time you arrived, it was nearly ten. An hour had passed since it had started. The car stopped outside the mansion's grand gates. An armed guard approached the driver's side and after a swift identification check, he opened the gate and the car pulled into the front yard. The chauffeur stopped the limousine outside the front door, where a pair of butlers stood. Wordlessly, they opened the doors for you and Fugo, and led you two up the stairs and into the mansion.

A red carpet was rolled out in the hallway. Sculptures, marble heads and oil paintings lined the walls, archaic pieces that Giorno attained for who-knows-how-many lire. Soft music lingered in the air whilst you began your ascend up a flight of stairs.

The long, winding staircase led the two of you to the second floor, which was decorated with more relics of the past. A few guests stood idly in the hallways, talking in hushed whispers. A couple swayed drunkenly beside a portrait of Don Giovanna. A glass of wine jangled from each of their hands. Hopefully they would not splash it on the painting.

After twisting and turning in the hallway, you finally found the source of the music. Another pair of butlers opened the doors for your friend and you.

The once muffled tunes converted to melodious harmonies, courtesy of a live orchestra. Violins, cellos and brass instruments and a piano were at their disposal. Situated on one end, they played a classical piece. On another side was a buffet spread, with cakes and delicacies a group of women were fawning over. You were soon to be one of them.

In the center people chatted idly while some danced to the lovely music. You caught sight of Mista, chatting with a lady in earnest. He was free of his sweater and instead dressed in a wonderful three piece suit. As for Giogio, who stood by the gunslinger, he was clad in stunning white and gold, wearing a soft primrose pink dress shirt. His long hair fell in voluminous waves behind him.

You searched the group they were with. Everybody maintained a fair amount of distance from each other. Which one of them was his special somebody?

You were about to greet them when your companion grabbed you by the end of your shawl. Fugo lifted up a finger, "I have some business to attend to, so I'll be back later. Remember, if you want to leave let me know. I will accompany you back, you hear me?"

You pried your accessory from him and rolled your eyes. "Yessir. See you later, sir."

The strawberry blonde exhaled, possibly from annoyance. He disappeared into the crowd and you gazed over at the dessert table. You visibly gasped and placed your hand over your heart.

It was radiant! In your sights were numerous three-tiered stands. An assortment of fairy cakes, with different frosting and toppings sparkled and shone on the stands. You licked your lips and rubbed your hands together, all goblin-like.

"Hehe... You can tell me about your special someone later, Giogio. Right now it's chow time!"

. . .

"Are you ladies seeing what I'm seeing?"

"Indeed... How can she pig out during such an elegant event like this?"

"The real question is how did she end up here in the first place?"

You turned to the women standing a few feet away. Just like you, they were dressed elegantly in gowns you saw on fashion runways. You chewed on your tenth fairy cake.

Even under your watchful gaze, they continued with their not-so inconspicuously whispers. You blinked innocently.

Rosa Romano. Caro Bianchi. Helen Bellomo. Daughters of high-ranking officials in Passione.

Rosa, the first born of Capo Romano. He dabbled in the gambling sector, a notable stand user. But unlike her father, she had not inherited a stand. Caro Bianchi. Born out of wedlock, her parents were faded aristocrats. They had history with the group, before Giorno took over. Also not a stand user. And Helen, daughter of a tycoon. Her family and her were sworn members of the gang. None of which were stand users.

In short, they were nothing to be concerned about. And from their ignorance, they didn't know you were part of the Passione's Escort Team. Excellent.

You finished the last of your cake and began on another. As you ate, you tuned them out and focused on the rich creamy treats. It mattered not how others perceived you, so long as you were happy. And with nothing but years of successful missions under your name, not even the Boss had a right to deny you of sugary, gastronomic delights.

"I can't believe you're actually here! You, who stays away from all of the Don's parties. Who would've thought?"

You blinked and a woman came into view. A familiar face had appeared. Fifty-something, the woman had her silver hair in 1940's waves. She wore a vintage cocktail dress, with matching elbow length gloves. A unique heart-shaped mole rested above her cupid's bow.

Your eyes lit up in recognition, "Signora Lucia?! Capo, I–"

"Nuh-uh! Today I'm not your Capo, my dear." She put a gloved finger to your lips. You fluttered your lashes, cross-eyed as you looked at her finger. She smiled cheekily. "Tonight I'm just a regular old lady."

You tilted your head, confused. She waved a waiter down and cherry-picked a glass of wine.

This lady here was none other than the Escort Team's capable leader– Signora Lucia. She was an aged and loyal member of Passione, and had served as the team's chief for years. Even during the period when you betrayed the old boss, Diavolo.

Giorno managed to trick everyone into thinking he had always been their leader, but you suspected Signora Lucia knew better. But even if she did, her loyalty never wavered. She was just as dedicated to her new Don just as she was to her first. And she was benevolent to you when you became branded as a traitor, later accepting you back with open arms.

Signora Lucia is a strange person. Even I have a hard time guessing what she's thinking half the time... You ruminated.

Gingerly swirling its contents, she gazed at you through hooded eyes. "This gala is swarming with the rich. I'm guessing today's a special occasion."

Your eyes flicked to the group of girls, still standing nearby. "Now that you mentioned it, there's also an unusually high number of women present today. I wonder if something's up."

With that in mind, you scanned the crowds for Giorno and Mista. They were preoccupied with another group of people, though this time a lady was between them. Her arm was looped around the blonde's, a dazzling hair pin in her bun. She wore an elegant cheongsam, and like her dress, you guessed she was from the East.

Who is she? She wasn't there a few moments ago. Could she be another woman Giorno has bagged tonight? Geez, talk about suave.

You looked down at your plate, piled with stacks of paper cups. The trio from earlier were now looking in your friend's direction. Like you, they ruminated over the unknown stranger attached to him. Subconsciously, your eye twitched. Signora Lucia took a tentative sip of her wine, watching you.

"I need some fresh air," You whispered to yourself. Leaving your Capo behind, you made your way to one of the many balconies in the room.

When nobody was looking, you pushed open the door just enough to slip through. You quietly closed it behind you and approached the railing. Leaning against the cold stone, your gaze instantly fell on the courtyard below. Even in the darkness of night you could see a table, the only furniture in sight. You and your friends would enjoy tea parties on that same table, sharing snacks and stories with one another.

An image of a certain blonde, smiling, swiftly surfaced in your mind. An unknown sadness bloomed in your heart. You already knew what it was, but you didn't understand why.

When did these feelings start? You weren't sure. They certainly weren't there when you first met him; back at the hideout in the vineyard many years back. Nor was it when he saved you from the persistent stand in the plane to Sardinia.

A gentle breeze tousled your tresses. Gently, you tucked some hair behind your ear. "Maybe I don't actually like him. Maybe I'm mixing up admiration with this."

Crrk...

The doors creaked open and you turned around. A man slowly stepped onto the balcony. He was dressed in beige and cream hues, a tweed jacket hanging over his broad shoulders. Champagne yellow hair was waxed back neatly, secured in little notches tied behind his head. A cigarette rested between his lips.

"Oh, I didn't know this place was already taken," His voice was a deep rumble. He held the little stick between his fingers. "Do you mind?"

"No, not at all," You gestured at the space around you. "There's room for more."

He joined you, back pressed against the stone balustrade. With a fancy little lighter, he lit up his cigarette. The blonde man took a long drag before puffing out a cloud of smoke. The scent of tobacco was sure to cling to your clothes, even if you kept your distance. Its dark tendrils began billowing in the balcony. Silently, the two of you stood together, watching the stars twinkle.

You knew who he was, and perhaps he knew who you were too. But your objective today was to find out who Giogio's special someone was, not to exchange formalities with him. You opted to stay quiet until he spoke up.

"I overestimated the crowd today," he muttered, and you glanced at him. His brows were knitted together, fingers in a little v-sign as he held the cigarette. "The last party wasn't as busy as this one."

"It's been a few years since I last attended, so I can't comment," you half-heartedly stated.

He raised a singular brow, "A few years, huh? Hm. I believe I've never seen you before. Is this our first meeting?"

You crossed your arms on the railing and glanced up at him. A finger rested on your lips as you exhaled nonchalantly. "Who knows? But I know who you are. You're an assassin from La Squadra Esecuzioni."

Quiet resumed between you and the man. Without warning, the man swiftly crushed the cig against the stone. You straightened up slowly, holding his gaze. He was a man of average height, a head taller than you. He glared down at you as you peered up at him indifferently.

"Should I be worried about you, signora?"

"'I'm nothing more than what you actually see, but I am also the complete opposite.' A famous singer, Keren Ann, once said that," You answered, crossing your arms. The tails of your shawl fluttered in the cold breeze. An unassuming smile graced your lips.

"With that said, please decide that yourself, signore Prosciutto."

"Ahem. I hope I'm not interrupting something."

You froze at the sound of a familiar, buttery voice. Your face fell as you slowly turned. Giorno stood at the entrance, his brows furrowed in uncertainty. The lady from before stared curiously at you and Prosciutto. Your eyes fell on their intertwined arms.

"Giogio," you cleared your throat. Why were you suddenly feeling restless? You fiddled with your purse. "Um, no. You're not interrupting anything."

You ignored Prosciutto's questioning gaze as he side-eyed you. Giorno visibly relaxed and he smiled faintly.

"I'm glad that you could make it. Fugo told me a while ago that the two of you had arrived safely, but I was busy attending to some guests. Forgive me."

"Yeah, you were real busy back there, huh?" You teased half-heartedly before swallowing. "So um, who's this beautiful lady over here?"

He gestured to the both of you, "Let me introduce you two. This is (y/n l/n), a close friend of mine. She's like family."

You placed a hand on your chest and bowed slightly, lowering your head. These were pretentious formalities, but you didn't want to embarrass the head of Passione. Your nails dug into your dress discreetly.

"And this lovely lady here is–"

An awful sound cut him off. Screams of terror filled the ballroom and you peered past them. Your eyes widened, the sea of people were moving in different directions all at once. A familiar friend shoved past a couple and burst into the balcony.

"Fugo!" Giorno met him halfway. His voice was steady yet demanding. "Tell me what's happening, quickly."

"It's a stand attack! We need to evacuate everyone, Giogio." He panted, gripping his arm. Something pitter pattered onto the floor, and you realised Fugo was bleeding.

A gunshot rang out, and you hoped it was Mista firing. Giorno laid a hand on Fugo's arm, and his stand materialised beside him. A golden glow surrounded his wounded appendage, and you glanced over to the lady beside the guys, looking lost like a lamb in the wilderness.

More screams erupted and you whipped your head around. Fugo sucked in a pained breath and gritted his teeth. "We have to do something about these people. Most of them aren't even stand users– they're defenseless!"

"That's where I come in," you held Giorno and Fugo's confused gazes. Conviction shone in your eyes. "There's no time to evacuate, so I'll be taking them to safety myself."

Passione's Don nodded solemnly. He placed a hand on your shoulder and squeezed it. "I'm counting on you." You nodded and Fugo and him rushed into the fray.

Prosciutto and the lady remained with you and you turned to them. "This is gonna get freaky, so stick close to me." Obediently, they shuffled close as you opened your purse. You fished out a notepad, one of the many you kept within your little bag. With a flip of your wrist, you whipped it open.

"Paper Heart!" A (colour) aura enveloped you and the heart-shaped pin in your hair. The metal eroded away and became an origami-like texture. "Transport all the guests into this piece of paper!"

Fwoop!

The three of you were sucked into the notepad. It fell onto the ground and began changing its form to a paper heart, shaped much like your hairpin. Transported into a realm of blank whiteness, you stood among a horde of confused and panicked people. With a quick head count, you estimated about a hundred or so were present.

The three women from the desert table stood together, clinging to each other. They were almost pitiful with their panicked rambling. You cupped your hands and bellowed, "Don't worry, the Boss will take care of things from here. I've brought you to a secure place, the enemy can't come here. You're safe now!"

Heaves of relief filled the space. Luckily most in Passione knew what a stand was.. So it took little brain cells to put two and two together. You gazed up at the blank ceiling.

"So you're a stand user," Prosciutto drawled. You had forgotten the man existed in the heat of the moment. He glanced around, curiously. "Interesting."

You chose not to respond. Crossing your arms, you stood quietly, thinking. Only you could allow a person to enter and leave this paper realm. Even if somebody discovered the paper heart in the balcony, there was no possible way to enter. And if they ripped the paper to shreds, Paper Heart would transport everyone to one of the many notebooks stashed away in your purse.

As for what laid beyond this world, you had willed for Giorno and his personal guards to remain. Mista and Fugo included. Your stand wasn't the confrontational type, unlike theirs. Hoping this was enough, you looked up at the colourless ceiling.

A bead of sweat slid down your cheek. You wiped it away and realised your pulse had spiked. You held a hand over your chest. Transporting this many people at once was taxing on you, a feat you just recklessly pulled off.

Good grief, what fools would challenge the boss during an event of such a large scale? You sighed. It was a good thing you chose to attend the party.

"Um, I hate to be that one person... But what's happening, (l/n)?" The lady in the cheongsam muttered. She gazed around curiously and frantically. "Where's Giorno...?"

You watched her from your peripheral. Based on her concern, you figured she was a non-stand user. It wouldn't make sense if you shared your stand ability–not like you wanted to– to a complete stranger, even if she was close to Giorno. That was a secret, like your identity. So you decided against it.

"He's probably neutralising the enemy as we speak. He'll be fine. But, uh, are you feeling okay?"

She nodded meekly, and you breathed a sigh of relief. The last thing you'd want was for her to be hurt. She seemed like someone special, after all.

Wait, hold that thought...

"Miss," she turned to you with her big doe eyes. You swallowed nervously and pointed a finger, "Could you be... His–"

A shrill scream pierced the air. You whipped your head around as your heart pounded anxiously. A beady-eyed man held a woman in a headlock, his bicep rippling underneath his suit as he choked her. She squirmed against him, raking his arms. The other guests were pressed against the walls of Paper Heart, trembling like mice cornered by a cat.

He's one of them...!?

You reached out and he spun to you, pointing a gun. A Beretta, standard police edition. Squinting your eyes, you lowered your arms.

"I'm guessing you're one of those freaks with abilities!" He practically dragged the lady with him. The thug stood face to face with you, so close that you could feel his lukewarm breath. "I'm taking her hostage. I have no clue in hell where I am, but I wancha ta bring me back ta my buddies."

He pressed the barrel against the lady's head. Tears streamed down her makeup-caked face. Mascara smudged against her wide eyes. He sported a shit-eating grin as you frowned. "If ya try anything funny, I'll blow her brains out, ya hear?"

"P-Please... Help..." croaked his victim. Now that you were up close, you realised it was Rosa, Capo Romano's daughter. You bit your lip.

Was her father not here today? Where was a powerful stand user when you needed one? The fear in everyone's faces told you everything you needed to know: you were alone. Clenching her fist, you narrowed your eyes.

I need a plan. But what do I do?

You looked around for ideas and when you met the eyes of the guests, they screamed pleas of help with just their stares alone. You locked eyes with the Eastern lady too, and she was gazing at you with hope and anticipation.

You inhaled deeply and tried to gather your thoughts. The man hollered about something in the background as you began drowning him out.

Don't forget, you have the upper hand here. This is your world and stand ability, after all.

"Fine. I'll take you out. But first, I have a question for you," You placed a hand on your hip and pointed at him, jutting your chin out. "Tell me. Do you wipe yourself after a dump, or are you the kinda guy to use the bidet?"

The man cocked an unkempt brow. He bared his teeth, "Huh?! What the hell are you asking, bitch?!"

A barrage of his saliva and spit landed on your dress. You wiped it away and frowned. "C'mon, just answer the question," You tilted your head mockingly.

He hesitated before rolling his eyes, "I wipe myself after, duh. I don't like the feeling of water on my ass– Huh?"

The thug glanced around, gun in hand. He looked under his arm questioningly; his hostage had disappeared. Everybody else had too. Then he realised he was in a toilet cubicle.

"W-Where am I?!"

"You're slow. Slow to realise the predicament you're in, I mean."

Your eyes met his as you stood at full height before him. He, who was stuck on the surface of toilet paper, squirmed in his confines. He pounded his fist against the tissue. However, as if he was trapped behind a concrete wall, the paper refused to give way. The man began sweating profusely.

"You conniving woman! I told you to bring me back to my friends!"

You smiled sweetly and lowered yourself to eye level with your tiny captive. "Did you forget what I said?" Your orbs darkened as your lips thinned.

"I said I'd take you out myself."

He hollered profanities as you began unrolling the toilet paper. With a bundle in your hand, you crunched it into a ball and tossed it into the toilet bowl. Wordlessly, you flushed the man down. His garbled curses faded out and disappeared.

You walked out of the cubicle and washed your hands. Paper Heart allowed you to utilise anything as long as it was a form of paper. From bamboo paper, recycled sheets, newspapers... Teleporting from one source to another was child's play– and for those that remained in the paper realm, they were bound to it forever.

"That's what you get for thinking a woman is an easy target." You mumbled before summoning yourself back into the previous realm.

People fussed over Romano's daughter, who had coughed up a storm since you left her. A nasty bruise had formed itself around her neck. A cut traced her nape too. Everyone parted for you, and you kneeled beside her. She gazed at you with gratitude, a far different expression from your first encounter earlier.

"Thank you for saving my life. I don't know how you did it, but thank you..."

You managed a smile. As you rummaged through your purse, you took another notepad and ripped out a page. Carefully, you placed it over her cut. Like a regular bandaid, you plastered it to her skin. It gently fizzed into her skin, and the fleshy part of the wound was overlaid with paper.

She tenderly held her neck and you stood up. People rushed to help her to her feet, and you stepped aside. Suddenly, you heard a squeaky voice echo around you.

"(y/n), you're in there, right?" A hiccup followed after. You knowingly smiled. It was Number Five, one of Mista's Sex Pistols. "Mista and the others have dealt with the enemies! You can bring everyone out now."

"Roger, will do." You responded before turning to the guests. "We're busting out of here, everyone! Make sure not to leave anything behind. Once we leave this world, anything that remains will vanish."

You counted to ten and the pin on your hair glowed brightly. Everybody shimmered out of the notepad and returned to their original places. Your heels clacked against the balcony floor, along with the Eastern lady and Prosciutto. She leaned against the railing, cross eyed and with wobbly knees. The guests held their heads in their hands, groaning.

The after effects of entering and leaving the paper realm gave most people vertigo, but you overcame this ages ago. You expected the same wooziness from the champagne blonde hitman but to your surprise, he was perfectly fine. You held his gaze, confused. Was he a stand user all along?

An irk mark formed as your eye twitched. Then why the hell did you not help out earlier? Maybe this was his way of payback for my snarkiness earlier... Ugh. You clenched your teeth.

With a sharp exhale, you turned away and searched for your notepad. It had morphed back into a regular block of paper after everyone left it, and dusted it clean. Your hairpin had returned to its previous appearance as well. You slipped the notepad into your purse when a dishevelled Giorno burst into the balcony.

Running past you, he enveloped the lady in a hug and squeezed her. She disappeared in his larger frame, her lithe arms wrapped around his back halfway. The sight would've been funny if it weren't for the jealousy brewing in your chest.

After he got his fill of her, he turned to you. Gratitude shone in his viridescent gaze. "Thank you for protecting my fiancé, (y/n). You did well."

Your mouth slipped open as you gaped in shock. With your eyes shifting from him to her, to her to him, your mouth hung open silently. An ugly bitterness bubbled within your stomach, threatening to spill out of your oesophagus. Its claws raked into your heart, a stinging pain growing within.

Smile. Do it for him, a voice chastised you, and you snapped your mouth shut and smiled. You smiled brightly, so radiantly as if your heart didn't shatter into millions of fragments like glass.

"Your fiancé? Oh man, that's crazy!" You exclaimed as your insides grew numb. With a hand behind your head, you guffawed. "So she's the one you wanted me to meet all along! I guess I should've known, silly me."

"I hope it's not too sudden. I meant to tell you but the right moment never arose," Giorno looked apologetic. Was that a faint blush on his cheeks?

The blonde and his partner exchanged looks: they were beaming. You mustered your courage, but your heart was cold and your fingers dug into your palms. With all of the goodness in your heart, you bowed once more and spoke softly.

"Congratulations, Don Giovanna and... La Madrina."

[cloverque]

paper heart (prosciutto)

masterlist, prologue

1011 words

The Escort Team– a top secret group in Passione. They were tasked with transporting people, such as influential figures and politicians. At times, they even took charge of material objects. The identities of the small but capable group were known to few, their faces a hushed topic among the mafiosos. To summarise, their exploits were countless and they were considered Passione's elite.

At times, due to the varying talents of the members, they assisted other groups in missions. Some of their members doubled as trackers or medics. Among them stood an extraordinary member, a stand user. And that same member was–

"(y/n)."

You stood at the doorway of the large room. Seated behind a great mahogany desk was none other than the Boss himself: Don Giovanna. He was a handsome man with golden wavy locks that cascaded down his chest. Your leader wore a pristine white suit with ladybug pins at his breasts. An ebony suit hung from his shoulders.

Standing by him was none other than his best friend and loyal comrade, Guido Mista. He wore his signature look: a criss-cross cropped sweater and tiger striped pants. Today he sported a matching set of red and green. Very Christmas-y.

You closed the door behind you and approached your Don. When you reached the desk, you fell to one knee and bowed before him. He watched you through thick blonde lashes.

"It's an honor to be called personally by you, Don Giovanna. To what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting?"

A moment of silence ensued the two of you. You lifted your head, grinning. The man broke the quiet with a heavy sigh.

"You do this everytime I ask for you. Stop talking like you worship the ground I walk on, (y/n)." The mafioso shook his head. He gazed down at you with a questioning look. "And stand up, there's no need for that from you."

"Yeah, stop acting like we aren't old buds!" Mista scoffed, jutting out a hip. His gun sat snuggly in the holster hanging from his belt.

Holding your hands up, you chuckled, "Alright, you got me there. I'll stop." You got to your feet and dusted your knee. When you finished, you returned your gaze to Giorno. "But seriously, is something up? Besides our weekly tea parties, you guys don't call me in personally. Especially not on a weekend."

The blonde nodded and produced a vanilla folder. He set it on the table and slid it towards you. Resting his cheek on his ring laced knuckles, he angled his head gently.

"I'd like to personally assign you on an assassination mission. There's a guy I'd like to be taken out." You opened the folder and poured out pictures of a man.

An Eastern man, you realised whilst scrutinising them. Possibly a high-flying diplomat or politician, judging from the number of bodyguards surrounding him. You scratched an imaginary beard as you went through the photographs.

"I need you and your partner to gain the trust of the enemy in order to get close to him. I've estimated the mission will take a few months to be accomplished."

Your eyes remained hyper-focused on the images, "But he doesn't look local. I thought we wouldn't involve ourselves in international affairs. Who's this guy to you?"

He blinked languidly. "You'll find out eventually."

That's all you needed to hear. You considered yourself to be an overly curious individual, with a need to have an answer for almost everything. But after years of serving Giorno– and the adventures you shared to take down the previous boss– you trusted him enough to cut the questioning. Whoever the enemy was, he must've been a lowly creature to incite Giorno's wrath.

With that in mind, you set down the photos. A casual wave of your hand opened up the folder and enclosed the photos within it. It sealed itself and slid back to Giorno, who gazed at you expectantly.

"Well the guy must be a real threat if you've enlisted my help." You nodded firmly, "I've got it. Leave it to me!"

"I knew I could count on you," Giorno exhaled, seemingly out of relief.

You chuckled softly and walked past his desk. Standing behind his chair, you crossed your arms over the headrest and leaned in. A cheeky grin crossed your face.

"Oh! But when I get back, I'll be expecting a reward. A million lire won't do it! You'll have to treat me to some fancy teacakes during our next tea party."

The blonde man closed his eyes in silent agreement, and you hummed happily to yourself.

"But who's the person she'll be working with? You know she's not equipped for assignations, right, Giorno?" Lamented Mista, who joined you on the other side of the chair.

All of a sudden, the Sex Pistols came into view. The tiny creatures floated around the chair. One of them crossed its arms, nostrils flaring. "Send us too! We're built for that sorta work!"

"Yeah, what Number One said!"

"We'll do a better job than (y/n)!"

You pouted and flicked one of them away. Number Six went spiraling into a corner. "Flap your lips some more and you'll be sure to regret it..."

As the yellow beings argued with you, Passione's boss opened a drawer and took out a photo. He showed it to Mista and you, and you raised your brows curiously. In it was a man in a yellow button up with a unique purple jacket. You leaned forward, gripping the plush headrest.

"That guy... I know I've seen him before." Mista recollected.

You rubbed your chin thoughtfully, "Me too. Giorno, who is this guy? Is he an assassin?”

The blonde set down the image on his desk. The three of you fixed your gazes on it. He clasped his ring clad fingers together.

"Correct. The man in the photo is Prosciutto. He's from the Hitman Team." Without looking at you, Giorno announced confidently, "And you'll be working with him on this special mission."

[cloverque]

paper heart (prosciutto)

synopsis: when a mysterious flower is found among the members of passione, you are deployed on a mission to investigate its origin. as a member of the elite escort team- and as one of giorno’s confidants- he pairs you up with a member of the hitman team: prosciutto. the suspect is a scheming diplomat, and the two of you must work together to solve this mystery. your deadline is within 250 days, and aboard a world touring cruise, the two of you must pretend to be a married couple aboard and assimilate into the suspect's circle. to make matters worse, the greatest trial may not be unearthing the flower's origins, but of love.

a multi-chapter series, a vento aureo spin off

minors do not read, please! gorey depictions, lore-heavy, reader's traits are heavily inspired by my oc, draws connection to purple haze feedback and other works of fiction

masterlist.

prologue

ch 1: panic at the gala

ch 2: the wolf and its flower

[cloverque]

masterlist, next

People will believe in whatever they want. Human minds are fickle– they will take your words as truth then turn against you the next second. Naturally, their beliefs and biases fuel their actions. If they hold you close, they will probably side with you, even if you’re wrong. And if they hate you… Well, they will go out of their way to destroy everything you have.

Wrapped in blankets, you sat at the foot of your bed. Night’s gentle beams failed to penetrate the thick binds that lined along your window. The abyss resided in the bedroom and you hid in its shadows. And just like Eve after consuming the fruit of knowledge, you shook like a leaf with grief. Your body shivered as you sobbed into your phone.

“I tried everything, Uncle Tai… Hic… I-I swear!” You blew your nose into a tissue. The thin sheet of fibre was clearly overused; it was soaked through. You clenched it in your fist nevertheless and shook it. “My manager said there was n-nothing she could do…”

The line was mostly silent besides episodic sighs. On the other side of the phone, your uncle was seated in a bubbling jacuzzi under a blanket of stars. He swirled his sparkling glass of mojito. His phone was sandwiched by his ear and shoulder.

“So let me get this straight. Your agency fired you over a scandal involving a series of explicit content… That was anonymously posted by someone impersonating you?“

You nodded and clenched your teeth, “It’s ridiculous right? It’s so stupid–“

“And even without concrete proof, they decided to terminate your contract anyway…? Man, saying this sucks just doesn’t cut it.”

Shoulders drooping, you sniffled. Your relative hummed, deep in thought as he sipped on his drink. Meanwhile, you hugged your knees tighter to your chest.

You’d been given a week’s notice before your company fired you. Today was the day when they’d announced your leave. It didn’t matter that you were their highest earning Vtuber or most popular member. Didn’t matter that most of Japan recognised you. The countless billboards of your virtual model and posters in the cities meant nothing anymore.

All that mattered to this damned company was money, and in their eyes, you’d tarnished their reputation.

A memory of your first livestream as your character flashed in your mind. You remembered the giddiness and jitters on your first day. The smiles and laughter filled on that day. Awkward rambles, elated cheers and the promises you’d made with your watchers that you’d do your best.

The memory made you queasy and you resisted the urge to throw up. You squeezed your phone tightly.

“Curse it all… It wasn’t even me in the video to begin with,” You tossed the soggy tissue into a bin by the bed. It missed and you groaned. Falling back onto the bed, you bounced on the mattress for a few seconds before stilling. Your phone was warm in your cold, weak grasp.

The scandal was a hot one, the hottest you’d ever been involved with. So far it had been a minor ones like claims of your identity, your college photos (FYI, not yours) and non-existing drama with other famous Vtubers. Tabloid presses worked hard to tarnish your reputation since day one.

You knew it would never be this easy being a public figure, or virtual one, but still, for someone to go so far to taint your name? Whoever the devious rat was– and boy, would you love to give them a piece of your mind– they had played as your character with your voice and infamous quotes. It was disgusting hearing somebody pretend to be you during such… an intimate video.

What was most disappointing was the fact that many of your fans had turned against you. The sensible had questioned the film’s authenticity, but even their queries were drowned out by the sea of hate, disgust and confusion.

Well, I guess I can’t really blame them… The bastard hacked into my account and posted it there too.

You had addressed it with your company and tried to prove your innocence. Unfortunately your promises and tears were just empty words to them. The board said that they wanted to believe you, but they couldn’t when the digital footprint of the poster was pinpointed to you. So instead of investigating further, they chose to let you go. It was truly disappointing AND humiliating.

Uncle Tai frowned and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “So what will you do now? I know the media doesn’t know your true identity but you shouldn’t bring any attention to yourself, (y/n).”

You stared up at the ceiling blankly. The fan spun languidly overhead, undisturbed by your chokes and snot. A frown crossed your tear stricken face.

“I’m freaking directionless right now, Uncle Tai. I have no clue what to do–“ A beep alerted you to your screen. You checked the digital slab and groaned. “Frick. I totally forgot that my contract ends this month too.”

“You mean the tiny place you’re renting in Tokyo?”

“Yeah. And it’s not that small.” You rolled your eyes and managed a chuckle. Though it was pretty strained and you hiccuped halfway.

“Bah! Come live here in Osaka, girl. You will love it. It’s a lot better than that blasted city. We have far better hot springs too!” He practically shouted and you pulled your phone away from your ear.

“Don’t act like you’re not chilling in Shanghai, Uncle!” You yelled back, and the man belted out a chorus of laughter.

He began his list of excuses and you drowned them out in your thoughts. You grimaced. This was too sudden (and really spontaneous) but maybe this was good timing? You could get away from the city, away from this place with your memories as the Vtuber Cheri and live a quiet life in Osaka. It was a big step moving to another city. But maybe this was a blessing in disguise?

“If I move there, do you have any units available?”

“I do have one in a pretty lovely location. It’s in a classy suburb, ain’t not too far from the city either. Called Tokio Hill. If you move there you’d have plenty of quiet. You up for it?”

You blinked and shut your eyes. Finally, the tears had dried up and your sobs had been reduced to croaky mumbles.

“I’ll… think about it,” you answered tentatively. “You won’t overcharge me because I’m your niece, right?”

“Now what kind of uncle would I be if I did that?” He chuckled. You smiled back.

After exchanging a few lighthearted jokes, you ended the call. You snuck one more glance at the tweet that plagued you for days.

Ah, whatever. It’s no use crying anymore.

You tossed your phone somewhere on the bed. Lethargy had finally caught up to you and your eyelids began drooping close. As you crossed an arm over your eyes, thoughts floated over your head.

Maybe this was the break you deserved after years of slaving away for a company that deserted you. You managed an empty laugh and drifted off to sleep. As you descended into the plane of dreams, your uncle began texting a chain of messages in a group chat.

[cloverque]

“it’s raining again,” atsumu realises with furrowed brows. the male burrows his face deeper into a throw pillow, “could ya help close the windows?”

you put down your phone and do as he says, sliding all the windows shut in each room. after fumbling a little with the one in the kitchen because of its loose handles, you shuffle over to the balcony in the living room.

the door is halfway closed when you stop, gasping. atsumu peers up from his pillow to look at you with tired yet questioning eyes.

“is the door stuck again?” he mutters when you do not move, and hauls himself out of the chair. “i swear… this is the third time this month–”

he comes to a standstill behind you, amber eyes flitting to the rainfall then the glowing sky. droplets pitter patters on the tiles.

“a sun shower,” atsumu winces at the bright glare of the sun overhead.

“it’s a fox’s wedding,” you correct, sticking a hand out to catch the rain. “the foxes are trying to keep humans away from witnessing the ceremony, but they also want the sun out too.”

“they should make up their mind,” he quips, resting his chin on your head as more rain fills your cupped hands. “dumb spirits.”

“hey, they can hear you, you know!” chastising him with a tug on his cheek, you huff. the faux blonde throws you over his shoulder with a snort.

“yeah, yeah, sure they can,” he mutters before putting you down on the couch and laying on top of you. he rests his head on your tummy and yawns sleepily.

you grip his dyed locks and tug gently, “wait, what about the door? the rain may get in!”

he pulls your shirt over his head, smushing his cheek against your stomach. “nah, it won’t. besides, the rain will let up soon…” he reasons before drifting to sleep.

quiet snores fill the living room shortly and you cannot help the soft sigh that escapes your lips. after glancing one last time at the sunshower beyond the glass doors, you close your eyes too. a rainbow blooms in the sky over your shared apartment.

[cloverque]

living with the four rising stars of the msby bj is an everyday disaster. you’ve walked in when atsumu was changing a couple times, with reactions varying between: ‘knock first, dumbass!’ and ‘like what you see?’ strange animals find their way into the house because bokuto invites them in while sakusa hogs the only bathroom in the mornings with his arduous skin care routine. and hinata… well, sometimes he forgets to lock the toilet door and you’ve seen some unforgettable things.

you’ve gotten used to the sight of half naked men loitering in the common areas, and even when miya flexes his biceps with that cheeky smirk of his, you can’t find it in yourself to blush anymore. hinata and bokuto’s kitchen shenanigans on weekends usually result in sakusa having to fervently pray that his teammates wouldn’t start a fire and burn the house to the ground.

once they, or more like the three of them, held a party with the other black jackals. let’s just say you did most of the clean up with sakusa, the other three being two wasted. you learn that atsumu holds his liquor the worst, followed by bokuto then hinata. some of you even consider adopting one of the exotic animals that wandered into the backyard, but the germaphobe called SPCA and with a tearful bokuto, you all bid it goodbye.

[cloverque]

it’s been raining a lot recently, especially at night. atsumu, who is usually a deep sleeper, would sometimes wake up because of the thunderstorm. after scrambling to shut the windows and balconies close, he would flop back onto bed in exhaustion. then he would snuggle into the warmth of your sleeping body. with a heavy arm draped around your waist, the man would bury his face into your hair and inhale, exhale, then close his eyes. sleep comes easily for him afterwards.

[cloverque]

in short, your study date with daishō was a disaster. the cafe you had planned to visit was closed for an emergency, then while wondering the busy streets it began to rain. one thing lead to another and now you were here at familymart, trying to drown out the thunderstorm raging outside the konbini.

your books laid sprawled out on the counter, long forgotten as you stared at the gloomy streets beyond the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of the convenience store. slouched on a barstool, you rested your chin on your folded arms.

“today was going to be perfect,” you muttered under your breath. today was meant to be a day spent with your boyfriend, in a cosy café, doing homework while eating scrumptious cake, and then ending the day with a walk downtown. but now…

gritting your teeth, you glared at the rain outside; the culprit of your ruined plans. curse you, dumb weather! you face-planted into the wooden top with a deep groan, rattling it.

a plastic bag rustled beside you and you looked up. your boyfriend has returned from the cashier and has climbed into his seat. “what’s with the long face?” suguru enquires when he notices your expression.

“nothing,” you pouted before sitting upright again. suguru perked a brow.

the contents of the bag clacked against the table when he sets it down. “i know you’re a little disappointed, bubs. but it could’ve been worse, right? here, i got you a lil’ something that makes me feel better.”

you hummed questioningly and watched as he reached into the bag and pulled out a few snacks: rice balls, cup noodles, familymart’s popular fried chicken and–

“papico!” you exclaimed as you snatched up the treat. holding it up towards the ceiling, you laughed, “wow, it’s been forever since i last had this!”

“do you like it?” he asks as he placed a notebook on the empty bag. suguru watched the tiny stars dancing in your bright eyes tenderly.

“papico? yeah, i like sweets!” you grinned as you made haste in opening the wrapper. the ice cream’s packaging rips with a ‘pop’ and you hurriedly took out the two tubes. “but i’ve never tried the coffee choco flavour before.”

when you struggled to split it apart, daishō gently took it from your hands. he gave you a lidded eye smile after snapping into two. with a mutter of thanks, you peeled off the tip and placed the tip of the tube at your lips. you licked tentatively, like a kitten taste testing a new treat.

with the way your eyes lit up, he was certain you liked this flavour as much as he did. cute, he thought as his girlfriend nibbled on the ice cream peeking through the plastic tube. the male chuckled and could not resist the urge to stroke your hair. you giggled and leaned into his palm.

the rain may have ruined both of your plans, but maybe today would not so bad after all. as rain pattered against the glass windows, you beamed up at your boyfriend.

text © cloverque 2021. please do not plagiarise, edit or repost. character belongs to haikyū!! by furudate haruichi.

[cloverque]

on the day of onigiri miya’s grand opening, nobody came. perhaps it was the raging thunderstorm outside that deterred people from stepping onto the streets, but it was a depressing first day. it was just miya osamu and a demure granny at the register in the small restaurant most of the day, until a drenched lady in black and while tumbled into the resto.

after a series of political events in your law firm, you fell out with your boss and resigned that day. you were in a drunken stupor when you stepped out of the bar, into the rain, and sought shelter in onigiri miya, albeit blindly. you collapsed onto the floorboards with your suit clinging to your flushed skin. osamu ended up carrying you upstairs to his bedroom (the building had a total of two floors) and nursed you back to health.

your friendship grew with him from there– you thanked him by helping to advertise the place, began work at onigiri miya while firm hunting, represented him in court because of a lawsuit by his greedy landlord, met his twin and accidentally confessed to the wrong brother and more shenanigans a lawyer shouldn’t have been involved in.

he sat on a fence for a while regarding his feelings but an arrange marriage by your parents woke osamu up. on the day your partner proposed, he butted in and ruined your partner’s day with his abrupt confession. luckily for osamu, you felt the same way.

[cloverque]

[5:06 AM] - for @misora-msby

the crashing of waves is one of the few things you hear at the beach. the hissing seafoam drowns out the crickets hidden within the reeds on the shore. you can also taste and smell the essence of the sea– a heavy tang rests on the roof of your mouth whilst the scent of sea salt has long infiltrated your lungs and made claim since your arrival.

a boundless blanket of stars hang overhead, winking in salutations whilst the straw-thin stalks lining the sandy beach sway in the early morning breeze. you shiver when a cold wind brushes past.

“here,” the faux blonde drapes a blanket over your shoulders, one that is thick and wooly and beige that he always packs in his convertible.

you gratefully wrap yourself around it like a burrito and snuggle into its warmth. “thanks tsumu,” your last syllable leaves your lips with foggy vapour. a wispy one that dances briefly before disappearing into the darkness.

atsumu adjusts his seat so that he can comfortably stretch his legs. he removes his shoes and puts his feet up on the dash. wriggling his toes, he has a similar blanket splayed over his front.

“sorry for wakin’ and draggin’ ya out here,” he says as a cloud of smoke leaves his cherry tinted lips. his honey visage is set on the dark horizon stretching over the rolling waves. “‘s pretty early too.”

“it’s alright,” you wriggle in your seat. your butt is a little numb from sitting for the past half an hour. gazing at him from your peripheral vision, you breathe, “you said you had something to tell me?”

the man turns his whole body to you, leaning against the window behind him as he stares straight at you. into your eyes the way he always does when he is deep in thought. you wait for him to speak but he stalls. then he smiles. the kind where both corners of his lips are upturn and his brows slacken.

“a tried ta wait. a really did. but everytime a–” his hand grips the steering wheel harder, his knuckles red under the moonlight. he swallows and you see his orbs shaking, “everytime a see ya when a wake up, when a see ya there when i’m home… well, i– i… ugh– dammit!”

he headbutts himself into the wheel, steam rising from his flushed ears as he mumbles incoherently. you unravel the blanket around you and tug on his hoodie’s sleeve.

“umm, i’m really confused but is everything okay?” you release his sleeve when he finally peers up from the wheel. atsumu sports a growing bruise on his forehead. his bottom lip juts out in a pout as he sighs.

“damn, a didn’t think it’d be this hard.”

“this hard to what?” you thread slowly, hoping your boyfriend would not try to bash his head in again.

atsumu’s resolve seems to have faltered after his outburst but he still looks you in the eye. he ponders for a moment then sits upright again. scratching the back of his head, he shoves his hand into his hoodie pocket and pulls out a small box.

sheepishly, he opens it and shows you its content. you gasp and cover your mouth.

“a tried ta wait, a really did,” he repeats again, but this time his bottom lip wobbles, “but yer’ve been so busy and a wasn’t sure when and how ta do this. samu said a should plan a date and everything and a wanted ta bring it up last week during our picnic date but ya were down with the cold and–”

“miya atsumu–” you inhale sharply, hands still clasp over your mouth in shock. eyes wide, your voice trembles, “–are you… are you proposing to me?”

the male nods slowly, then he brings the box closer to you. “a wanna be with ya for ta rest of my life, (y/n),” he tenses as he waits for your answer, blazing, golden eyes searching yours. “yer the one a truly love and cherish.”

something wet slides down your cheek. you brush it away and look up at the sky, but there are no clouds above. another drop of water trails down your face and atsumu reaches out for your face. his slender fingers brushes away the countless drops cascading down your cheeks.

“oi babe, yer not supposed ta be crying! ya should be happy!” he chides, but the softness in his voice and gentleness in his actions betray him. he caresses your cheek and you hold his wrist, burying your face into his palm.

“i am happy, silly,” you manage between sniffles. you give him a lidded eye smile. “i’m so happy right now!”

“so… it’s a yes?” he blinks. you nod enthusiastically and atsumu breathes a huge sigh of relief. you giggle and kiss his palm and he pats your cheek affectionately. then he pulls away and carefully takes out the ring from the box. wordlessly, he slides it onto your ring finger, and you have to bite your lip to hold back the urge to cry again.

your fiancé gingerly takes your hand in his. kissing your knuckles tenderly, he looks up at you. only to see you bawling once again.

“b-babe! i told ya not ta cry– dammit! seeing ya like this makes me wanna cry too, yaknow?!”

he rips out tens of tissues from the mini box on the dash and frantically dries your tears. a mixture of happy snorts and sobs reverberate in the once quiet beach. rolling waves lap at the shore and crickets compete with your cries, all the while the car starts to flood with both your tears and soggy, used tissue paper.

under the gentle moon light, the silver band on your finger shines.

text © cloverque 2021. please do not plagiarise, edit or repost. character belongs to haikyū!! by furudate haruichi.