#kinda looks like a sketchbook scan hmm......................

[obsmiechujek]

Bubbline doodle page I'm so weak for them fr

art only twt

[crimsonbubble]

Pairing: Hongjoong x fem!reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: uhh none

"Oh my god, I think I might actually go insane."

Hongjoong says, putting his head in his hands. Your hands halt and drop the pencil as you turn your head towards him.

"Hey Joong, are you okay? Want any help?" Your soft voice is calming as Hongjoong sighs and turns in his chair.

"I just-" his words stop as he runs his hands through his messy hair. "I just can't find an idea for this song. None of the lyrics I have make any sense."

Letting out a breath, you straighten your back. "Well, why don't you try to keep the idea basic? Y'know like talking about something you love."

"Y/n. that is one of the most generic ideas I have ever heard." "Hey it's not my fault, I'm not even a music major."

"Well yeah but you are an art student." He says, raising his eyebrows. "Hongjoong, I'm not a musical art student. I'm a visual arts student. I don't know music like you do."

"Hmm yea ok, just continue working I'll figure something out." You look at him skeptically. "Ok fine, but if you need anything, I'm here." A smile graces your lips as you pick up the pencil and continue sketching.

Your hand makes quick and feather-like strokes as the rough outline of your portrait is finished. Pulling away and scanning the image, your hands start of the refined outline of the image.

Hongjoong stares at you as you work, hands gliding over the paper so effortlessly; picture coming alive with just a few lines. Your brows knit together as you flick your pencil against the paper.

His eyes scan over your soft features. Your dark eyes scanning over the image, puffed out cheeks and bite swollen lips. He feels a sharp poke by his ribs, before he feels the light smack on his face.

He snaps out of head and jumps at the close proximity between you and him. His cheeks match yours; tinted pink. Mumbling out a sorry, you sit back in your chair.

"Joong you seemed kinda out of it, are you okay?" He looks into your eyes and blinks, not saying anything for a few seconds. "Y-yea I'm fine don't worry. Just, had an idea." He smiles and turns back to his computer.

Happy that he got an idea, you continue working with a small smile on your face. Hongjoong, typed away as his head was swirling around with the thoughts of you.

The lyrics came easy as he thought of you and the memories you've shared. Your hands were covered in lead as you finished the final sketch. Finalizing the remaining details, you picked up the black fine tip and began outlining the portrait.

Your hands go at a steady pace, making sure to capture every detail you can. The hands of the clock tick by as you both work in comfortable silence.

The clock reads 9 pm before either of you even register it. You set your pen down, leaning back onto the chair, yawning. Hongjoong's eyes droop as he checks the time.

He saves his work, closes his laptop and leans back into his chair. You try to run your eyes to keep yourself from falling asleep in Hongjoong's studio. "You doing okay?" He asks turning to face you.

Holding back a third yawn, you nod and close your eyes for a brief second. "Oh that reminds me-" he exclaims, leaning forward. "-what is your project even about?"

He asks as he pulls the sketchbook towards him, scanning the image. A smile finds its way onto his face as he looks at all the details of the portrait.

In a daze, you respond with "Oh uh, our teacher told us to draw a portrait of someone that you love or inspires you. It's a really boring topic but I'm not in the place to complain."

"So which one, did you choose? Love or inspiration?" "Both actually."

"So you're telling me you love me and get inspired because of me? Damn it, I wanted to be the one to confess first." Sitting up, you look at him with confusion.

Until it hits you, the drawing in your book is Hongjoong. "Oh my god, that was not how I wanted to confess." You say hiding your pink tinted face.

"Well then, since I know you like me, how about we go on a date tomorrow? Meet at the café nearby at 6 and we go on from there?" He asks, placing the sketchbook down.

"See you at 6."

[kanerallels]

Congratulicitations on your eleventy-first follower, vod'ika!!!!!!!

For the writing asks: Runo for four hundre-- whoops sorry I went Jeporady for a minute there.

Runo + Modern AU + Imagine your OTP for six hundred, plz.

My pleasure, vod!!!

Pairing: Noah St. Claire x Ruya Lewis

Word count: 1,274

Warnings/tags: Rated G (for the giant crush Noah just got)

With the benefit of hindsight, Noah thought, the whole thing had been very badly thought out.

He’d been in class, pretending to listen to his incredibly boring teacher, and doodling in his notebook. Which was for school, obviously. If anyone looked inside, that’s what they would see. School stuff. Not drawings. However, if anyone tried to look, he’d cram one of his textbooks down their throat.

Anyways, he’d been in the middle of that when a student to his left asked a question. For whatever reason, Noah had glanced over at them, and his heart had nearly jumped out of his chest. It was a girl, around his age. She had reddish brown hair, with blonde highlights along the tips, light brown skin, and a look of curiosity in her eyes that Noah liked the look of.

He wasn’t saying that she was drop dead gorgeous, but he definitely wasn’t not saying that.

As the professor kept talking, Noah surreptitiously flipped to a new page in his notebook and started drawing, keeping his gaze on the girl. She had her chin propped on one hand as she listened, the other holding a pencil that she tapped against her desk to a rhythm Noah could swear he recognized. There was something about the slight smile she wore that was totally entrancing, and Noah concentrated fiercely on getting it right, his pencil moving quickly.

Finally, he had a rough sketch of her completed on the page in front of him-- and just in time. The bell signifying the end of the class rang, and Noah got to his feet, closing his notebook and wondering how he was supposed to survive a few more hours of monotony.

He took a step forward, and crashed straight into the girl, who’d just leapt to her feet. Both of their books and notebooks went flying, and she let out a gasp. “Oh-- I’m sorry, I didn’t see you--”

“You’re good, it’s on me,” Noah assured her, quickly scrambling to pick up some of the books she’d dropped and wondering what on earth was up with him today. Usually, he’d just shoot the perpetrator a glare, pick up his stuff, and keep moving. And yet, he found himself handing the girl her a few notebooks as she shot him a quick smile.

The smile was enough to make his heart rate double, and he stood stock still as the girl shoved her books and notebooks into her bag and headed for the door. Finally, Noah shook himself out of his daze and glanced down at his notebook, which he was still holding.

Except that he wasn’t. In his hand was the spiral bound green notebook that he used for actual notes. It also looked nothing like the brown leather book he carried with him everywhere. What-- how-- Noah flashed back to a few minutes earlier, when he’d handed a few notebooks to the girl, completely unaware of his actions.

And one of them had been his. Which had a sketch of her in it.

Oh, CRAP. Indulging in a few more venomous curses, Noah bolted out of the classroom, barely stopping to scoop up his books before he raced down the hall, scanning for any sign of the girl.

To his relief, he finally spotted her heading out of the building, probably towards her next class. Which is nowhere near mine, Noah realized with a groan. Well, he was failing math anyways. May as well double down and skip class to avoid a lifetime of embarrassment. He headed after the girl, wondering how the heck he was supposed to broach this conversation.

At first, she didn’t seem to notice him behind her. This did not last long, because Noah was neither short nor remotely subtle, and he’d cultivated his “mess with me and you will regret it” vibes too long to give them up for a little bit of embarrassing subterfuge. She glanced back at him at one point, and Noah instantly pretended to be absorbed in one of his textbooks without really reading a word of the text, loitering next to the wall.

After a few seconds, he peeked over the top, and she was still there, hands on her hips, an unamused expression on her face. “Why are you following me?” she asked.

“...I’m not?”

“This isn’t the way to your class, because I’d know if I’d seen you there before,” she said. “Also, you’re reading that textbook upside down.”

“Huh?” Noah looked at it, and realized that it was, in fact, upside down. “Uh… I like to do that?”

“Not convincing. Tell me what you’re doing or I’ll call security.”

“Whoa, whoa-- please don’t do that.” Sticking the textbook under his arm, Noah braced himself, then said, “You have my sketchbook.”

The girl’s eyebrow shot up. “What?”

“When I bumped into you earlier, I accidentally handed you my notebook with your stuff,” Noah said, praying no one else was hearing this conversation.

Frowning, the girl asked, “Then why didn’t you ask for it back?”

“Um. Reasons.” He saw her skeptical expression and sighed. “There’s… maybe kinda a picture in there that I didn’t exactly want y-- anyone to see.”

The hostility in her expression faded, and the girl started digging through her bookbag, saying, “Okay. But I’m definitely looking.”

“What?” Alarm flooded through Noah. “Why?”

“I want to make sure you’re not just some creeper who’s using this as a dumb excuse,” she explained, which made sense. “And I’m also very curious.”

This could go well. “Maybe don’t--” Noah started, but she’d found his sketchbook and flipped it open to the most recent page before he could finish his sentence.

Her eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment she didn’t speak. Noah was desperately trying to figure out what to say when she said, “This is… really good.”

Hmm. Unexpected, Noah thought. “Thanks?” he said cautiously.

“I mean, it’s a little weird that you started drawing me when you don’t even know me,” she said, handing him back the notebook. “But I’m gonna choose to be complimented.”

Exhaling, Noah tucked the notebook under his arm, and shot her a quick smile. “Well, there’s one way to fix that,” he said. “I’m Noah St. Claire.”

Returning his smile, the girl said, “Ruya Lewis.”

Noah felt his heart beat a little faster at the smile, and managed to keep his expression nonchalant. “Nice to meet you, Ruya,” he said.

“You, too,” Ruya told him. “Although I have to ask-- do you meet every girl you know by stalking them after you’ve drawn them?”

“Well, you didn’t exactly give me much of a choice when it came to drawing you,” Noah said, feeling his grin turn into a smirk. “Not with that Mona Lisa smile of yours.”

Ruya’s eyes widened again, and to Noah’s delight, she turned slightly red. “Okay, charmer,” she said, grinning. “Why don’t you let me get to class, and I’ll talk to you later.”

“How do you plan on finding me?” Noah protested.

“Oh, it’ll be easy. Everyone knows about the infamous Noah St. Claire, who got suspended in the first week of college because he punched out a professor,” Ruya said, smirking.

Whoops. He’d honestly forgotten about that. “Don’t let my reputation scare you off,” Noah told her, and she laughed.

“Duly noted. Uh, you should probably get going-- aren’t you late for class?”

Noah glanced at his watch and discovered that he was, in fact, nearly late. “Worth it,” he said, flashing her a grin, and then bolted down the hallway as fast as his feet could carry him, hearing Ruya’s laugh behind him.

[someone-somewheresomehow]

Delayed Flight

After 5 months, I’ve finally posted another fic. Are y’all proud of me yet?

Characters: Roman Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Logan Sanders, Remus Sanders

Ships: Intrulogical

Content: Christmas fic bois, also Creativitwins (not ship!!)

Word Count: 3540 (exactly)

AO3

“4 hours?” Virgil groaned. “How can a flight be delayed that long?”

The flight attendant shook her head. “I’m sorry, sir. We could transfer you onto a different flight, if you want?” She offered.

 “No, it’s okay.” Virgil said. He scanned the airport lounge. “I’ll wait.”

 Spotting an empty corner, he walked over and sat down, slipping his backpack off of his shoulders and placing it beside the couch. The rest of the lounge was nearly empty - everyone else had obviously taken the transfer offer. That was fine with Virgil - it meant that it was quieter. Leaning over to his backpack, he pulled out his headphones, connecting them and putting them on. He slipped into the music, the rest of the world fading out around him, pulling out his sketchbook and starting to draw.

 Only a few minutes later, someone came rushing in, disturbing the peace with the huge racket that they were making. Virgil looked up, annoyed, and watched as the person ran over to the desk. “Am I late?” He asked the attendant. She shook her head.

 “No, the flight has been delayed for 4 hours. You’re actually early!”

 The man looked startled, before he composed himself and grinned. “Nice! I’ll find a seat, then.”

 He turned around and surveyed the room. Virgil took this opportunity to look at him properly. The man had tanned skin and light brown hair. He seemed to hold himself as if he believed that he was better than everyone else, and he looked very confident, even if he didn’t mean to.

 The man looked in Virgil’s direction, and Virgil quickly turned back to his sketchbook. But it was too late - the man had spotted him watching and started heading in his direction.

 The man sat down next to Virgil. “I’m Roman.” He said. Virgil stared at it for a moment before shaking it. He looked up at Roman and noticed that his eyes were a bright bottle green that sparkled with excitement and humour.

 “I’m Virgil.” He replied. "Uh, why are you going to New York?"

 Roman’s eyes lit up. “I’m going to Broadway! I’m gonna see Hamilton! They’ve reunited for a tour!” Virgil smiled faintly at the other man’s excitement. “Oh, I’m also visiting a couple of friends. Why are you going to New York?”

 “I’ve also got a friend that lives there. I’m visiting him for a couple of weeks.”

 “Oh, neat! Do you like Hamilton as well?”

 “It’s okay, I guess. It’s kinda overrated.”

 Roman gave a dramatic gasp, placing one hand over his chest. “Overrated?! Virgil, I can’t believe you! Hamilton is an excellent musical, with beautiful songs performed by the wonderful Lin Manuel Miranda, Leslie Odom Jr., Phillipa Soo, and everyone else in the cast!”

 He continued ranting for a few minutes, while Virgil sat in silence. When he finished, he sat, panting from the passion that had taken over him. Virgil stayed silent for a couple more seconds, before smirking. “I never said it was bad. I just said it was overrated.”

 Roman gaped at Virgil. Virgil looked at him for a moment, soaking in the satisfaction that he gained from the flabbergasted look on Roman’s face, before slipping his headphones back on and returning to his drawing.

 Roman waved one hand in front of Virgil’s face, but after Virgil responded with a glare, he moved away, taking his stuff and sitting somewhere else. And for the next few hours, Virgil sat in blissful peace.

 After the flight, Virgil arrived at the airport. He got his luggage from the baggage area and made his way to the exit.

 Outside the airport, he checked his watch. Logan had been prepared to pick him up, but because of the delay Remus, Logan’s boyfriend who Virgil had never met before, was picking him up instead. He was supposed to be here in a minute or two.

 The sky was a cloudy grey, and looked at if it might start to snow. It certainly felt cold enough. Virgil shivered, glad that he had put his coat on before coming outside.

 “Virgil!” Someone called out. Virgil turned, and saw Roman walking towards him, his own luggage in tow.

 “I’m sorry about what I said earlier.” Roman said when he reached Virgil.

 “It’s fine, man. It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

 “I feel so bad, though! Can we meet up sometime so that I can make it up to you?”

 “You really don’t have to-”

 “I insist! We can go out and see the sights together, or maybe see a movie or something?”

 “Fine, sure, whatever.”

 Roman perked up. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, and after a few swift taps, he handed it to Virgil. “Can you put your number in for me? That way I can call you about our plans!”

 Virgil took the phone and entered his number before handing it back to Roman. “Who are you waiting for?” He asked, changing the subject.

 “A friend of mine. His boyfriend was originally meant to be coming, but he couldn’t make it because of the delay of our flight. Annoying, am I right? Anyways, what about you?”

 “Oh, same here! I don’t know his boyfriend, though, so that will be a new experience. I think his name is Remus?”

 Roman gave a start. “Remus? Is his boyfriend called Logan?”

 “Uh, yeah?” Virgil replied, confused. Then it dawned on him. “Are you being picked up by them as well?”

 “Yeah, I am! This is awesome! We can get to know each other properly!” Roman was practically vibrating in excitement.

 Suddenly, a voice called out their names. “Roman! Virgil!”

 They both turned, to see a man running towards them. He had light brown hair, with one grey streak running through it, and had the wisps of a mustache that was just starting to grow. He was wearing a green tank top, along with a pair of black shorts, as if he were immune to the cold. He jogged towards them, one hand waving in the air.

 “Virgil,” Roman sighed. “Meet my brother, Remus, Logan’s boyfriend.”

 “It’s nice to meet you, Virgil!” Remus greeted. “Good that you two have already met! That way we can get the boring ‘making acquaintances’ stuff out of the way!”

 He turned back towards the way he had come, and gestured for them to come with him as he started heading off. “This way!” He called.

 Virgil and Roman set off after him, heading into the carpark. When they reached the car, Roman called shotgun, leaving Virgil to sit in the back. They drove to Logan and Remus’ shared apartment, the way mostly filled by Remus’ constant chatter.

 When they reached the apartment, Roman and Remus led the way while Virgil followed behind. They had started bickering over which musical was the best, Roman going for the obvious choice, which was Hamilton, while Remus went for Beetlejuice.

 Just as they got to the door, Roman turned around. “Which one do you think is better, Virgil? Beetlejuice or Hamilton?”

 “Hmm…” Virgil thought for a moment. “Personally, I think that Beetlejuice is better than Hamilton.”

 “Ha!” Remus crowed triumphantly. He opened the door and turned back to Roman. “I told you so!”

 “But!” Virgil interrupted. “Starkid musicals are better than both of them.”

 “No way!” Remus and Roman both said at the same time.

 “What are you lot yelling about? Hurry up and come inside!” A familiar voice called out from inside the apartment.

 They went inside and were greeted by Logan, who was wearing his usual black shirt and pants. The room was dimly lit, a few overhead lights having been turned on and the rest of the light coming from the soft glow of fairy lights on a Christmas tree in one corner.

 “Hey Logan!” Roman greeted.

 “Hi.” Virgil greeted Logan as well.

 “I’m glad to see that you two are acquainted. I apologise for not being able to pick you up, but the delay put me in a difficult position, as I was unfortunately busy during the time when I would have needed to get you. I also apologise for not telling either of you that the other was visiting.”

 “It’s fine, man. We’re practically best friends now!” Roman threw one arm around Virgil’s shoulders.

 “So you’re dating Remus?” Virgil asked, shrugging off Roman’s arm.

 “Yes.” Logan confirmed. Remus walked over to him and they shared a kiss. Roman and Virgil stood awkwardly, unsure of what to do until they broke apart. Logan’s face was flushed, and he had a lovesick smile on.

 “Did you wear a shirt and shorts in the freezing weather again? One of these days you’ll get sick, and when you do you better not claim that I didn’t warn you.” Logan told Remus quietly before turning back to Virgil and Roman.

 “Let me show you where you’re sleeping.” He flapped one hand aimlessly and led them away.

 The rest of the week was filled with fun - they went shopping together, saw Hamilton on Broadway (which was wonderful - Roman was talking about it for two days afterwards), and even went ice-skating together at a local ice-rink, making sure that they all bundled up to protect themselves from the cold winter’s air. Remus was an excellent ice-skater, and Logan and Virgil weren’t too bad either, but Roman was absolutely terrible, holding on to the wall most of the time. When he mustered the courage to let go, he had to cling on to one of the others to stay upright, often making both of them fall. There was lots of laughter that day, and Roman’s nose turned red from the cold (definitely not from embarrassment, Roman told them), but he restored his dignity when they bought hot chocolate to get warm and Remus tripped over, spilling it all over himself.

 On Friday, they were sitting on the couch, watching TV, just lazing around doing nothing. They had spent the day exploring whichever parts of the city they hadn’t already seen, and were happily resting.

 “Oh!” Roman suddenly cried out. “I just realized! Virgil, I need to make it up for you!”

 “Wha- oh.” Virgil said, realizing what he meant. “No, it’s really fine, Roman, we’ve spent the entire week having fun together, you don’t have to-”

 “I insist! Really!”

 “What happened?” Remus asked. “What did you do, dear brother of mine?”

 “I- in the airport, I kind of maybe accidentally took something he said wrong and went off on a rant about it?” Roman looked down guiltily.

 Virgil sighed. “The dumbass that he is went off on a rant about how I was wrong for saying Hamilton was bad when all I said was that it was overrated. Which is not the same thing.”

 “And now you have to make it up to him?” Remus looked at Roman, a huge grin on his face. Roman nodded slightly sheepishly, and Remus’ grin widened. “Well, there’s a nice cafe around the corner. You two could go there together. It’s new - I’ve been meaning to take Logan there.” Logan and Remus shared a love-filled smile.

 “Wow.” Roman looked back at Remus. “For once you’ve actually had a good idea.”

 “I- for once?!” Remus spluttered. He looked at Logan. “Can you believe what this man is saying?!”

 “Virgil, unless you have other plans, tomorrow I invite you to come to the cafe with me in order for me to make it up to you!” Roman said triumphantly before Logan could reply.

 “Um, sure, I guess.”

 “Fantastic! It’s a date!”

 The next morning Roman and Virgil set off for the cafe. They left Remus and Logan at the apartment, as they were doing… other things.

 The walk to the cafe was a short one, and was filled with talking. For a man that short, Roman sure had a lot to say.

 The bell above the door rang as they entered the cafe. The air immediately warmed up, a stark contrast to the cool Christmasy air outside. The smell of hot chocolate filled the air, and they breathed in deeply.

 The cafe was loud with chatter as Roman and Virgil approached the wooden counter. They waited in line for a minute or two before they were at the front.

 “Hi, what can I get for you today?” The employee asked cheerily, even though they were probably dead inside like most retail employees are.

 “One caramel frappuccino for me, a small black coffee for him, and one slice of apple crumble to share please!”

 They paid and went to their table to wait, chatting a bit more. Their names were called out, and they got their items, before returning to the table.

 “So, do you live in Gainesville?” Roman asked, downing half of his drink in one sip.

 “Yeah, why?”

 “I live there as well! We can meet up sometime after we go back!”

 “Neat! When are you leaving here?”

 “I’m here over Christmas, so about 2 more weeks. You?”

 “I leave tomorrow.”

 “Noo!” Roman cried dramatically, attracting the attention of a few people nearby before they quickly turned back to their own conversations. “So soon?”

 “Yep. I’m celebrating Christmas with my roommate, Patton. He’s a good guy, I don’t want him to spend Christmas alone.”

 “Oh, dang. I get it. Spending Christmas alone isn’t great.” He sighed. There was a short, awkward silence before the topic quickly changed.

 They ate the cake and drank their drinks - Roman finishing his quickly and trying to steal some of Virgil’s, with Virgil having to hide it away from him to be able to keep it for himself - before going back to the apartment. They had decorated it during the week, as the only decoration that they had arrived to was the Christmas tree. Now holly was strung up on the edges of the ceiling and fairy lights hung over doorways. Remus had tried to put up mistletoe everywhere but was stopped by a loudly protesting Virgil. Of course, he would still put it up occasionally, but it was dutifully ignored.

 Virgil knocked on the door, and was greeted by Remus.

 “You guys can’t come in yet! Go away!” He told them, grinning, before shutting the door in their faces.

 Virgil and Roman stared at the plain wood in front of them, as if that would make it magically open, but it didn’t, because doors don’t work that way.

 They exchanged glances. “What was that about?” Roman asked. Virgil shook his head - how would he know?

 The door creaked open a crack, and Remus poked his head out, this time looking disappointed. “Logan said I have to let you in. You just have to wait a moment.”

 “Sure, I guess.” Roman replied as Remus closed the door again.

 There was a short pause while quiet shuffles could be heard from behind the door. “Move it to the bedroom.” They could hear Logan whispering. Loud crumpling pursued, fading off.

 Logan opened the door and Virgil and Roman jumped slightly backwards from where they definitely weren’t listening with their ears to the door. There was an awkward pause, before Logan said, “Come on in.”

 Virgil and Roman shuffled in sheepishly, not bothering to wipe their boots on the mat before pulling them off their feet along with taking off their hats, scarves and jackets.

 “What-” Roman started before Virgil whacked him with a glove, shutting him up.

 “It’s pretty obvious, just use your head and don’t spoil it!” Virgil hissed. Roman turned bright red but didn’t say anything. They both entered the apartment and spoke no more about it.

 The next day, Virgil was standing in the living room, saying his final goodbyes to Remus and Roman before he left for the airport. They had had a wonderful time together, and would certainly be missing each other.

 Remus and Logan stood together. Logan whispered to Remus and Remus nodded before running to the bedroom and coming back, carrying something behind his back.

 “Since you can’t stay for Christmas, we bought something for you slightly earlier!”

 He pulled out a present, neatly wrapped in red with a green bow tying it all together. Virgil took it from him and held it, trying to guess what it was. It was flat, and not too thick - maybe a big book?

 “You can open it now or when you get home, we don’t mind!”

 “I’ll open it now.” Virgil smiled and unwrapped the present, revealing a sketchbook with a plain, cardboard.

 He looked at it for a moment, before flipping through the pages, admiring the plain white pages, ready for him to start drawing.

  “Do you like it?” Logan asked. “We thought you would like it, but if you don’t we can give you the receipt. It is a bit plain.”

 “No, it’s great! Thank you!” Virgil drew both Remus and Logan into a hug, and after a moment where they were overcome with surprise, they hugged back.

 After they broke apart, Roman stepped forward. “I also got you a present, but I’m not sure if you’ll like it as much.” He held out another present for Virgil, this one wrapped in white wrapping paper that had golden swirls all around it with a red bow slapped on top of it. Virgil slung off his backpack and carefully put the sketchbook inside, ready for use for whenever he mustered up the courage to ruin its perfectly white pages with his drawings, which like with every notebook will immediately make him feel bad before he goes on a drawing spree, filling it up with wonderful art.

 Virgil took the present from Roman and unwrapped it, struggling for a minute with the layer of tape that was wrapped around the entire thing before finally tearing it off, along with the wrapping paper. Virgil felt a bit guilty about doing it so crudely, but ignored the guilt and focused instead on the present. In his hands was a pack of pens - a giant packet, with every colour imaginable.

 “I- you bought this for me?” Virgil stammered, shocked.

 “Yeah.” Roman rubbed his neck awkwardly, looking slightly embarrassed. “Do you like it?”

 “Like it?” Virgil carefully put the pens on the couch, making sure that no one would sit on it before launching himself at Roman. Roman nearly fell over, and if Virgil could see his face he would have noticed how red Roman had become.

 “I love it. Thank you so much!”

 Roman stood awkwardly for a moment before embracing the hug, hugging back. They held the hug for a moment more before Virgil stepped back, picking the pens back up and holding them close to his chest for a second before placing it into his backpack, even more carefully than he had put the sketchbook inside. When he straightened back up (though he was still as gay as ever), the room was practically lit by his smile.

 “I have presents for you guys as well!” He handed each of them a package, each one badly wrapped in the same wrapping with the words Merry Christmas printed over and over on it in red and green writing. Logan, Roman and Remus took each of theirs and began opening it, Roman and Remus ripping the wrapping to pieces while Logan completed the procedure more carefully.

 Remus revealed his first - soap and deodorant. He bit into the soap, as he usually did, and was delighted to find that it was made out of chocolate!

 Roman came next - he got a packet of paints. There weren’t as many colours as the pack of pencils, but he was still super happy and excited to use them.

  Logan finished opening his last, the wrapping paper falling away to reveal the dvds of the bbc series Sherlock. Logan was practically vibrating with excitement to watch all of them.

 There were a few minutes of hugs and thank-yous before Logan stepped forward. “Though I hate to be the one to do this, I’m afraid that we have to depart now if you wish to make the flight. Have you got all of your things?” He asked Virgil.

 “I do.” Virgil replied, picking up his backpack and pulling it onto his shoulders.

 “Right, well then.” Logan started heading towards the door.

 “It was great to meet you guys!” Virgil told Remus and Roman, waving before he turned and walked towards where Logan was holding the door open, pulling his suitcase behind him.

 He exited the apartment and waved one final time before Logan closed the door and they headed down to the car.

 They drove together, chatting with each other as music played on the radio, until they reached the airport. Logan walked with Virgil as far as he could, until they had to part.

 “It was great seeing you!” Virgil said.

 “It was! I’m glad you could make it.”

 After a moment they hugged, holding on for as long as they could before letting go. Virgil waved, and started heading off.

 He went through the rest of the process and finally settled onto his seat on the plane (fortunately the flight wasn't delayed this time).

 As the plane started lifting into the air, he looked out the window, headphones placed comfortably on his head, and headed back home.

[oldsoldierr]

The Carnation ~ Part 1

summary: the media always told you that the famous art critic bucky barnes is an arrogant, rude playboy and you agree, but something still draws you to him. is there a deeper reason to why he acts the way he does or is he the class A jackass you first met?

art critic!bucky x artist!reader

word count: about 2.8k

series masterlist 

Your art studio was silent except for the occasional paper turning from the person across the room from you. The only sound you were paying attention to was the smooth sliding of the brush on the canvas as you traced a carnation from the actual deep maroon flower behind the painting. That was until you heard a jingle from the door. Soon after a set of footsteps came your way. You sighed putting your paintbrush down. 

“Hi, Steve.” He gave you a charming smile and sat down next to you with his sketchbook. 

“How was your day?”

“Actually pretty good. I got almost a third of my commissions done,” he responded.

“How was yours?” He took out some charcoal from his bag.

“Ugh, not great. I was almost halfway done with a painting when fucking Brock bumped into me and made me drop it before it was dry.” Your fingers curled into a fist just thinking about it but you strategically didn’t go into the details to avoid getting too angry. 

“Well, I think I have some news that might just make your day better.” Steve grinned. 

You looked at Steve curiously.

“What is it?”

“‘You remember Natasha? The one I talked to you about yesterday?” You paused for a moment racking your memory, then nodded.

“Your coworker?”

“Mhm. Well, she told me word has it that Bucky Barnes is coming to Brooklyn!” He looked to you for a reaction. You shifted at the mention of the name. 

“Is that really a good thing?” You asked. Steve looked at you like you just said the earth was flat. 

“Are you deaf? I just said the Bucky Barnes, as in the world-famous art critic is coming to our city!” he emphasized. When he still didn’t get a good reaction he elaborated.

“He’s made so many careers with just one review. He could be your chance at a better life! He could be your chance to launch your art career into the stratosphere!” You looked at him skeptically with a raised eyebrow.

“I really don’t think so,” You replied logically. “I mean, he’s practically the Gordon Ramsey of art. And not in the funny, badass way. Did you forget he’s also broken more than his fair share of careers?”

“Yeah, of course, I know, but it’s a risk worth taking!” he tried again.You looked down at the floor nervously and fidgeted with your fingers. This time it was Steve’s turn to look suspicious.

“Wait, you’ve never been afraid of a risk.” He realized. “You literally jumped off a bridge once just because you were bored. What’s really going on?” You bit your lip. You debated the best course of action inside your head before saying, “Fine.” You sighed.

“I just-- I don’t like him,” you admitted.

“What, why?” Steve asked, looking slightly offended.

“He’s just such that kind of person ya know? The kind of person that thinks they’re better than everyone else and struts around acting like they own everything.”

“What do you mean? You’ve never even met him before!” Steve countered. You shrugged.

“I don’t need to. I’ve seen guys like him before.” you frowned.

“They all think the same. The only thing they think about is trying to get in girls’ pants. He got just a little famous and now he thinks he’s the shit and that his opinion is the only right one. always acting like he’s the best,” You scorned.

“That’s quite an assumption to make considering you barely know anything actually about him.” The blonde hesitated before saying the next part. “He’s really not too bad,” Steve combed his hand through his hair. You couldn’t stop the puzzlement that crept onto your face. Steve had never been one to be hypocritical.

“Oh, so you know everything about him?” you said sarcastically.

“Well, actually…” Steve rubbed his neck. “...he’s kinda been my best friend since we were kids, so I know a fair bit about him.” That caught you off guard. 

“Wait-- what?” You sat there dumbfounded for a minute.

“How come this is the first time I’m hearing about this?

Steve gave you a  half-smile.

“Well, you know, I didn’t want to scare you off or anything.” He let out a breathy laugh.

“You’d be surprised at how many people have completely blocked me out because of him.” Steve tapped his pointer finger as he awaited your reaction.

Man, this boy is dumb.

“Stevie, you’re literally the only one who talked to me after I first moved here,” You recounted. 

“Even though I don’t like Barnes, you couldn’tve scared me off if you tried,” You promised. “Seriously.” You looked at him.

 “And you’ll never get rid of me ever again,” you joked. The blonde gave you a relieved sigh.

“Now back to me being mad at you.” You quickly reset from that surprise heart to heart. 

“You should’ve told me!”

“Well it’s a bit late for that now,” he teased. A chuckle bubbled from your throat. You thought for a moment.

 “Just as long as I never have to talk to him, I’ll be fine,” you said light-heartedly. At this statement, Steve looked rather alarmed. You looked at him questioningly.

“What is it?” you asked.

“Is there paint on my face or something?” Steve looked at you rather guiltily.

“Hey, so I sort of did something,” He said cautiously.

“Yeah of course?” You started to get anxious. 

“I kind of expected you to respond positively to the Bucky news and I may have…” Steve trailed off.

“What?”

“I may have already invited him,” Steve said sheepishly. You looked at him with a face of pure panic.

“Oh, shit—I mean—that’s not too bad?” You bit your tongue. 

“As long as I have enough time to prepare,” You tried to convince yourself, but judging from the blondes’ expression, there was more to it than just that.

“When’s he coming?” you asked.

When Steve didn’t respond you asked again in a much more urgent tone.

“Steve, when's he coming?”

“So, yeah, about that too, um-“ Steve stuttered.

“he’s supposed to come right about… now.”

Before you could kill Steve, scream, and/or faint there was another jangle from the entrance. You looked towards the door. 

An extremely attractive man sauntered in from it. You observed his piercing baby blue eyes and dark, shaggy hair was cut just above his built shoulders.  You could tell he went to the gym from his bulky stature but most of him was covered by a cliche snobby scarf and a black, long leather jacket that probably costs more than your rent and we’re talking New York prices. There was a little stubble on his sharp jaw that framed a cocky smirk. Your breath got caught in your throat. As you took him all in, you knew you’d be lying if you said this wasn’t the goddamn most gorgeous boy you’d ever seen. Even if you hated him with all your heart.

Steve stood up to greet the man with a hug. 

“Hey man, glad you could make it,” Steve pat him on the back and the brunette returned it. Your friend turned toward you with his hand on the stranger’s shoulder. 

“Y/n-” Steve hesitantly continued. “-meet Bucky.” You were pretty sure you were having a panic attack. But somehow you still had coherent thoughts.

So this is Bucky? you wondered. He’s so much younger than I thought he was. In complete honesty, you always imagined him as a 100-year-old with a swirly mustache so a mid-twenty-year-old was quite a surprise.

You somehow composed yourself and said, somewhat politely, “Oh, uh, hi, pleasure meeting you. I’ve...heard a lot about you.” You wiped the paint off your hand before extending it to Bucky. He looked down at your hand. His eyes glanced back up before ignoring your hand completely, instead, he put his hands on his hips. You put your arm down awkwardly.

“Pleasures all mine, doll,” he flirted. A blush tinted your cheeks pink. You recoiled.

Who does this guy think he is?

Before Steve could stop him Bucky continued.

“Stevie, why didn’t you tell me how beautiful y/n is? I would’ve straightened up a bit more.” You knew it was a line, but to say you weren’t slightly charmed would’ve been deceitful.

Snap out of it, you told yourself. You had met too many guys just like him, and relationships with them always ended the same. Heartbreak and an unhealthy amount of ice cream, you thought bitterly.

“Bucky, don’t flirt with her,” Steve scolded. Bucky winked.

“I’ll try my best.” The blonde rolled his eyes but Bucky didn’t acknowledge it.

“So, this is the place you wanted me to come to?” Bucky said scanning the room. 

“Yeah, it’s a really great place, and really accepting,” Steve complimented.

 “‘Thought you’d like somewhere lowkey to get away from your-- you know,” the blonde-haired man said tentatively. Bucky rubbed his neck trying to mask his uncomfort at this topic. He quickly changed the subject, going into full critic mode.

“Hmm, the architecture’s okay,” Bucky evaluated, walking around a bit. “Did you choose the lights?” He looked directly at you. You felt his gaze burning into you.

“Uh, yes, yes I did,” You stammered out. The brunette hummed judgmentally. 

“Ideally you would’ve had completely white lights evenly placed throughout the ceiling. I assume it’d be a tad difficult to draw from reference accurately here.”

You mumbled something about fixing them while you played with your fingers insecurely. Generally, you had pretty thick skin, being in the art industry, but when Bucky Barnes tells you he doesn’t like something, it needs to go immediately, lest you become a laughing stock for the rest of your career.

“Mr. Barnes, could I give you a tour of the studio?” you offered. Bucky blinked.

“Of course. Lead the way.” He gestured for you to go forward. You pondered for a second.

“Follow me.” You proceeded to start walking around the room planning on pointing your proudest achievements out. Before you could say anything though, Bucky stopped dead in his tracks.

“This easel is at a 70-degree angle when the rest are at 90.” You honestly didn’t know what to say to that. He continued, “For maximum efficiency, I suggest making them all the same.”

You narrowed your eyes a little. This opinion seemed a bit nitpicky for you. He was supposed to be mainly judging your art anyway, not your fucking angles.

 “I’ll make note of that,” you replied curtly. Luckily, it seemed your wish for him to critic your art was granted as his eyes moved up to the painting Brock had made you drop earlier. Your heart dropped.

“Huh.” He looked at it with revolution. 

“It’s rather smudgy, don’t you think?” Bucky said looking over it. “Crisper lines create more appealing products. An artist of your age should know that by now,” He said demeaningly. You wanted to defend yourself and tell him about how it wasn’t your fault it was so smudgy but you knew better. Art critics hated excuses.

Before the brunette could make any more comments about your less proud works you spoke again.

“I’ll show you the supply closet.” You suggested. Bucky nodded. You walked to the closet door, opened it, and flicked the light on.

“Honestly this is probably my favorite part of this place. It has everything you could possibly need.” You looked at the brunette for his opinion. He nodded again but didn’t say anything. You were surprised he didn’t have any comments considering he had a lot to say just a second ago. You were getting suspicious that he wasn’t listening. You crouched down to reach a basket.

“I keep my favorite and most used supplies right here, though I’m sure you have your own preferred materials. Do you have any suggestions?” you asked expecting him to recommend some other brands or criticize your choices. When you didn’t get either you turned around. Bucky was staring at something in the previous room. As you followed his gaze you realized it was not a something, but a someone. The Infamous Bucky Barnes you didn’t like too much, to begin with, was really beginning to piss you off. 

“Uh, ahem?” you cleared your throat with only a hint of sass. Bucky snapped out of his thoughts.

“Oh, hmm? What’d you say? Sorry, I was just admiring your uh- organization.” Haha bullshit, you thought. It took all your strength not to call him out on his blatant lie.

“I asked if you had any suggestions for supplies.” He still looked distracted. Like he wanted to get this done already. He rapped his foot impatiently.

“Everythings fine,” Bucky replied lazily. Before you could say anything he spoke again.

“Hey, who’s that?” he said pointing to the person he’d been ogling earlier. You bit the inside of your mouth to stop from scoffing.

“That’s Sharon. She’s a regular artist here.” You said professionally trying to keep from saying something about Bucky catching a case. Said man smirked.

“Could I speak to her? I’d like to...learn about how things are run here.” His voice clearly indicated that was not what he was going to talk about. Avoiding Bucky’s line of view you rolled your eyes farther than you thought they ever could.

Guess the rumors were true. He is a womanizer, You thought to yourself. I can’t believe I actually thought I might have a chance. This is just how he is with everyone. Your ideas of him being interested in you flew out the window.

“Yeah, sure. Go right ahead,” You said in a tone that was just controlled enough.

You sighed as he left the closet with a click of the door. Before exiting yourself you gently hit your head on the wall a few times. This jackass of a man was really getting under your skin. You decided to just go back to your painting and hope he noticed it. As you walked back to your seat you caught a glimpse of Bucky leaning on a table near Sharon clearly chatting her up. You grimaced. 

They say never meet celebrities for a reason, you thought to yourself.

When you sat back in your chair, Steve gave you a sympathetic look.

“I know he was a bit of a jerk but he really isn’t usually like that.” Your blonde friend eyed Bucky. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him today.” You didn’t reply.

“Hey,” Steve said, trying to get your attention. You looked at him expectantly.

“He’s really not that bad of a guy once you get to know him.”

You couldn’t help the snort that came out.

“I’m pretty sure I don’t wanna know him enough to get to that point.” You knew you were being a bit harsh, but a bad day plus this was really amping everything up.

“I mean he’s an art critic,” you said exasperated. 

“but he only reviewed one of my pieces!” You humphed.

“He does everything for a reason.” He muttered. You picked up your brush again unconvinced. Steve seemed to notice as he resumed. 

“Really! Please just promise me you’ll give him a chance.” When you didn’t budge Steve gave you the puppy eyes he knew you couldn’t refuse. You groaned and dipped your head back in frustration.

“Fine,-” You grumbled. “-but know, it’s not for him, it’s for you, cause I trust your judgment.” 

I mean I’ll never see him again anyway, you thought.

Steve grinned.

“And that’s all I can ask for.” You and Steve fell into a comfortable silence for around an hour as you both worked on your projects, but the constant flirting you heard from Sharon’s corner was riling you up.

You made a sound that was definitely some sort of growl and threw your hands up.

“Why can’t they just shut up?” Steve smiled mischievously.

“You doing okay there?” You glared at Steve

“What do you think? Barnes is basically throwing himself at Sharon. it’s so distracting.”

“You know what it sounds like to me?” The blonde man beside you asked.

“What?”

“It sounds like someone’s jealous,” Steve whispered. You could physically hear the grin in his voice.

“I really want to hit you right now,” You threatened.

“That’s not a no!” he sang.

“I’m NOT jealous! Why would I ever want Bucky Barnes to flirt with me? I’d honestly rather die,” You denied.

Steve looked at you skeptically.

“Whatever you say.” He went back to his sketches. You huffed and ultimately did this same. 

You did NOT like Bucky Barnes. But as you looked back towards the playboy brunette talking with Sharon, you felt an ache of envy that he wasn’t talking to you. 

I do NOT like Bucky Barnes, you repeated to yourself. But a little part of you knew that wasn’t true. You put your head in your hands.

Well fuckity, fuck, fuck.

so that was part one! it’ll get more dramatic soon! this is my first series so i’m still trying to figure some things out. if anyone has tips please let me know! sorry for any grammatical errors. thanks for reading :)

series masterlist~part 2

[kumeko]

breathers

 Characters/Pairings: Naminé/Riku

A/N: Written for the @khrarepairszine charity zine! I picked Naminé/Riku, I’ve had a soft spot for them since CoM. Take a look at the other contributors or pick up a copy. :)

Summary: Naminé had none of Sora’s laziness or Kairi’s relaxed attitude, and honestly, Riku would have left the islands years ago if she’d been around. Still, everyone needed a break, Nobodies included.

…

…

…

…

“Mmmmmm, mmmm, mmmmm,mmm.”

 A delicate humming filled the white house and Riku didn’t have to look to know where it was coming from. He’d recognize Naminé’s soft voice anywhere. Automatically, his feet followed a familiar path to her room. As he got closer, he heard the soft scratch of her crayons, the sharp flip of a page.

 Spotting her familiar silhouette, he stopped at the doorway. As usual, she was sitting at the table, her head bent as she drew scene after scene. The walls were filled with images, with memories, and Riku scanned the colourful pictures. There was the time he raced with Sora, making the raft with Kairi, sleeping under the stars. Other, unknown memories filled with mermaids and warriors and constellations he didn’t know.

 He never did have a chance to talk to Sora after all was said and done, to boast about adventures and swap tales. Quietly, so as not to disturb Naminé, Riku drifted from picture to picture. A boy with a monkey smirked mischievously in one. Another had a bear with his head caught in a honey pot. Riku’s fingers brushed against one of Kairi giving Sora the paopu fruit.

“I had to make sure that memory was returned,” Naminé said apologetically, slowly setting down her sketchpad.

 Resisting the urge to jump, Riku withdrew his hand. “It is an important one.”

 “Yeah.” Pushing her chair back, Naminé slipped off and joined him. Her sad eyes took in the scene and she smiled softly. “That fruit was the basis of everything.”

 “Everything?” Riku asked, cocking his head in confusion.

 “For our ‘friendship’.” She touched the paopu fruit lightly. Her fingers slowly slid off the picture and she turned around and pointed at a few other sketches. The golden fruit was prominent in each of them. “This fruit was important to you. Both of you. So I used that to insert myself.”

 Both of you. Riku didn’t have to ask what she meant by that. It was impossible to forget the sight of his death, of his body choking and gasping for its last breath. “There’s a story on my island, that if two people share one—”

 “Their destinies are intertwined,” Naminé completed. She chuckled at his surprised expression. “You have no idea how often you guys said that in his memories.”

 Riku flushed. Had they really talked about it that much? About this old wife’s tale, with no basis in reality? It was stupid, really. A thing that couldn’t be true in any way. A thing that he spent several years wishing for, a connection that was permanent. A connection that would stay. The dark part of his heart that Ansem had slipped into. “Really?”

 “Really,” she confirmed with a grin, smiling whole-heartedly for once. “You say it a lot.”

 “Not that often,” he disputed, crossing his arms and looking away. “Just to tease Sora with.”

 “Hmm…that may be so.” A serious expression slipped back onto her face and Riku felt a pang of regret. It had been rare enough that she laughed. “Still.” She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “I’m sorry you didn’t get it.”

 Caught off guard, Riku stared at her. None of his wisecracks came to him, none of his taunts. He was utterly speechless. “I…”

 Naminé said nothing, just giving him a knowing look before letting go. She turned back to her table. “I have almost finished removing the altered memories.”

 Riku glanced at the picture one last time before following her. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he peered at her sketchbook. It was thin now, with only a few pages left. A testament to how hard she worked. “Do you take breaks?” he asked without thinking.

 “Huh?” Naminé blinked, staring at her notepad and then back at him. Confusion shone in her eyes and she cocked her head. “Breaks?”

 “Vacations? Rest? Time off?” Riku rolled his eyes as he clarified. “You’ve been in Sora’s memories, so you have to know what a break is. That’s all the slacker did.”

 “Yeah, of course I do! But…” Naminé’s skin flushed a bright red, and she nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I just…I didn’t.”

 “After all that work?” Riku raised a brow. Gesturing with his head at all the pictures, he frowned. “No one should work that long without a break.”

 “Oh no, it’s okay. I’m fine.” She rubbed her wrist, her shoulders hunching till she looked even smaller than usual. “I don’t—I don’t need a break. It’s fine.”

 “Everyone needs a break.” Riku reached out and grabbed her hand. Yanking her behind him, he headed to the door. “Even you.”

 “No, I—” Naminé protested, digging in her heels. “I can’t, not after what I did.”

 “You’ve apologized enough for that,” Riku rebutted, firmly pulling her along. “Sora’s forgiven you. And even if my clone can’t, I’ve forgiven you. It’s enough.”

 “It isn’t,” she muttered softly.

 “…don’t you think I deserve it even less than you?” Riku asked, looking over his shoulder. When she didn’t say anything, he smirked. “Besides, Sora likes sleeping more than anything. He’ll be fine sleeping for a few extra hours.”

 She stared at him for a long moment before finally giving in. “There’s nowhere to go, the mansion doesn’t really have that much in it.”

 “Hmm, that’s true,” Riku muttered, scratching his chin. Aside from the basement, the mansion was fairly lightly furnished. Even the garden outside was barebones, and whatever little plants grew there had gone wild. “Then we can explore the city.”

 “The city?” Naminé shook her head. “I couldn’t possibly—”

 “It’s a break,” Riku cut her off wryly. Really, there was none of Sora’s or Kairi’s laziness in her. It was almost refreshing to see someone take things seriously for once. “Where were you when I was making that raft? I would have left the islands years ago.”

 Reaching the front door, he let go of her hand and opened it. Bright sunlight filtered through and he shaded his eyes as he stepped out. A soft breeze rustled his hair, a bird chirped nearby, and he had almost forgotten what spring was like. There hadn’t been much time during his journey to just enjoy the places he went to, the seasons the worlds experienced. Turning back, he held out his hand for Naminé. “You coming or do I have to drag you out?”

 “I…” Naminé hesitated, fiddling with her hands nervously as she stared at him. Biting her lip, she took a step outside. Her shoulders hunched, her body braced for some sort of reaction. For someone to drag her back in and put the sketchpad back into her hands.

 “You can leave the entrance, you know,” Riku encouraged gently, his hands still held out.

 “Y-yeah.” Emboldened when nothing happened, she grabbed his hand tightly and took another step. And then another. She squinted up at the sky, at the clouds that littered the blue expanse. “It’s…beautiful.”

 Riku shrugged. He’d seen better skies on his island. “I guess.”

 “I…” Naminé’s head darted left and right, taking in the tall grasses and wild roses that made up the front lawn. “I’d seen it all from his memories. And I think I might have come through here once. But…I didn’t get to see it myself before. Not really.”

 “Never?” Riku jerked his head to her, surprised.

 “Nobodies, we’re not really born like everyone else.” Naminé stared down at the grass, slipping a foot out of her sandals to touch it. Delighted by the ticklish sensation, she set her foot down on the squishy ground and wiggled her toes. “I kinda just came to be, at that castle. And then I was taken here, but that was through a warp gate.”

 “Huh.” Riku rubbed the back of his neck. They were more similar than he’d thought. “So your island was that castle, then.”

 “Hmm?” Naminé peered up at him curiously.

 He shook his head. “Nothing. Put your shoes back on, we’re going to town.”

 “Right. Town.” Naminé set her jaw determinedly. Pressing her foot one last time on the grass, she slipped her sandal back on. “Ready.”

 Riku resisted the urge to laugh at the image in front of him. She looked so determined, like she was off to fight a battle rather than just walk into a small town. But her hand was sweaty in his, her nails digging into his skin lightly, and maybe for her this was a fight. “Alright. Since this is your first time, I’ll guide you.”

 -x-

 “They have scents.” Naminé stared at the rose in her hand, twirling between her fingers. Raising it to her nose, she sniffed it again. “Actual scents.”

 “And thorns.” Gently, he pulled the flower away from her hand. Luckily, she had gripped the stem at the exact right spot to avoid the sharp defense system. Glancing at the house in front of them, he carefully pushed the branch back in place. “Let’s not invade someone’s garden.”

 Not paying him any heed, Naminé wandered to the house next door, to a creeping vine of morning glories. “This one smells so different!”

 “Did you hear me?” Riku groaned, staring down at the long line of houses ahead of them. Maybe he should have taken a different route into town. Not that it would have made much of a difference, there were going to be flowers no matter what path they took.

 Sniffing a peony, Naminé chirped, “This one too!”

 It was going to be a long walk.

 -x-

 A bird chirped. Naminé cupped her ears as they walked, listening to the sounds around her.  Riku watched her from the corner of his eye as she tried to identify the owners of different sounds: birds, dogs, other villagers. Her head craned left and right, and there was something endearing about how she pivoted at each new sound.

 “It’s so noisy,” she murmured, looking excited despite her words.

 “Compared to the mansion, sure,” he refuted, crossing his arms behind his head as he slowed his pace. “If you think this is loud, wait till you see a city.”

 -x-

 “Here.” Riku held out a popsicle, plopping the other one in his mouth. Immediately, a cold, sweet flavour hit his tongue, with a salty kick after.

 “For me?” Naminé awkwardly accepted, staring at the blue popsicle. The wooden handle was slightly slippery and she pinched it with two fingers, trying to save the rest of her hand from the sticky substance. “A popsicle?”

 “It’s the town’s specialty. Might as well try it.” Riku pulled his treat out of his mouth before he could get a brain freeze. “Take a lick, it’s pretty good.”

 “Alright.” Scrunching her face, Naminé hesitantly stuck out her tongue and licked it. She squeezed her eyes shut, considering the flavour, before opening them with surprise. “It’s sweet.”

 “And at a normal level.” Riku shuddered, remembering the frozen treats Sora and Kairi used to have. It was like having pure sugar dissolve on his tongue. “Though I could do without the salt.”

 “You just want to—” Naminé glanced at him and immediately covered her mouth. It couldn’t completely muffle the sound of her laughter and Riku glared at her.

 “What?”

 “Just…your tongue. And lips.” Naminé’s shoulders shook as she tried to compose herself. “It’s all blue.”

 -x-

 “It’s cold!” Naminé yelped, taking a step back. There weren’t many ways to access the shore in Twilight town; the lack of beaches and frosty waters deterred even the most adventures of visitors.

 Sitting on a rock, Riku raised a brow. “What did you think it was gonna be? Warm?”

 “A little.” Naminé shivered, her feet still in the water. The barest edges of the water. The tide lapped at her feet, tiny waves crashing down on her ankles, and she took yet another step back. Looking back at him, she frowned. “The waters in your home were pleasant.”

 “Yeah, because we lived in the tropics.” Riku rolled his eyes. Then again, Sora had never bothered to pay attention to any class, even geography, so maybe she wouldn’t know that.

 A more powerful wave charged up the shore, enveloping her feet, and she darted back even further. “I’m good for now.”

 “You sure?” Riku smirked, gesturing at the water. “You were only in it for a few minutes.”

 “No, definitely, definitely good.” Naminé broke into a run as another crash sounded behind her.

 -x-

 “I hear this has the best view of the sunset,” Riku explained, opening the door on the top of the clock tower. A soft breeze ruffled his hair and he shielded his eyes as the sun’s last rays hit him. “We’re on time at least.”

 Following him out, Naminé peered around him. “Ohhh.” Amazed, she pushed past him and hurried to the railing. Her mouth slack, she watched as the pink and orange hues bled into the blue sky, the sun heading down into the water. “Amazing!”

 “Yeah. I guess.” Riku had seen this sight more often than he cared to remember. It was strange to watch it alone, without Sora’s stupid remarks or Kairi’s sharp jabs.

 “I didn’t know it could be so beautiful,” Naminé breathed, her eyes fixed on the sun.

 Riku smiled. Right, he wasn’t alone. Not now. Leaning on the railing next to her, he glanced at Naminé. “It?”

 “The sky.” Naminé paused, then shook her head. “The world. Everything, really. I saw them in your memories, but…it’s something else to see them for yourself. I never knew such bright blue existed. Or such soft pinks. What else is the universe hiding?”

 “Underwater worlds, worlds ruled by animals,” Riku listed, ticking them off with his finger. “A lot, really. You’ll just have to visit more worlds. Take more breaks.”

 “Visit…” Naminé mused, lowering her eyes slightly. With a sad smile, she shook her head. “No, this is enough. More than enough.”

 “Why?” Riku frowned.

 “I can’t leave the manor like this again—I have too much to do.” She beamed at him, but it didn’t meet her eyes. “I got a lot of memories from this, it can tide me over.” When he opened his mouth to argue, she covered his lips with a finger, her expression stern. “No, really. Thank you. This is more than enough for someone like me.”

 Someone like me. He hated how much that sounded like a curse.

 -x-

 “Thanks for today.” Naminé stretched her arms behind her as she sauntered into her room. Glowing, she beamed brightly at him. “It was a lot of fun, having a break.”

 “Yeah, it’s not bad every once in a while.” Riku rested a hand on his hip, a smirk on his face. “Just don’t take it as often as Sora does.”

 “Maybe he wanted you to take more breaks.” Laughing, she glanced at one of the drawings on the wall. A picture of a boy sleeping on the sand, without a care in the world. “Or maybe he’s just lazy.”

 “The latter. Definitely the latter.” On the wall next to him, Riku spotted one of Sora’s terrible drawings. A picture of Sora’s and Kairi’s head, a paopu fruit passed from one to the other. It was strange. He felt so detached looking at it now. Yet when he’d first saw it, a tidal wave of rage had overcome him. Enough to destroy his world. Enough to destroy many worlds.

 At some point, the wave broke, the rage ebbing away. All that was left was a sense of fondness, of his two dense, idiotic friends and a scenario he should have seen eons ago. He glanced behind him. Naminé was humming again as she picked up her sketch pad. There was one more thing he could do for her.

 “Gimme a sheet.” Walking over to the table, Riku picked up a golden crayon. He rolled it in his hand; the colour was just right.

 “You’re going to draw?” Mystified, Naminé carefully tore out a page for him. “I thought you weren’t good at that.”

 Riku shot her a baleful glare. The downside of her combing through Sora’s memories—his past was an open book to her. Including all of his art classes. “I’m just not interested in it.”

 “That wasn’t what—”

 “I’m just not interested,” he repeated forcefully, grumpily glaring at her. It wasn’t a lie. He wasn’t good, so he wasn’t interested. There was no point in doing something that even Sora, the class idiot, got higher marks than him in. Spreading the sheet of paper, he stared at it for a long moment. Maybe this was a bad idea. Even a simple shape ended up distorted in his hands.

 “If you say so,” Naminé acquiesced, covering her mouth to hide her laughter.

 Riku peeked at her from the corner of his eyes. Shoulders shaking, eyes full of mirth, Naminé looked like an ordinary girl. Nothing like the sad Nobody he usually saw, counting down the days till she disappeared. Determined, he started drawing, straight confident lines into the shape of a star.

 “So, what are you drawing?” Naminé tried to peek over his shoulder, but he blocked her.

 “Just wait.” Biting his cheek, he glanced at her artwork on the walls. Yep. He was right. He was no good at this and he was definitely never doing it again. Finishing the piece, he instructed, “Hold out your hand.”

 Naminé cocked her head. “My hand?”

 “Just hold it out,” he ordered. When she held out her right hand, he placed the sheet on her hands.

 “What?” Naminé stared at it, realization dawning in her expression. “This is…”

 “You didn’t get one either, right?” Riku shrugged, looking away in embarrassment as she stared at him. “It might not be as good as yours, but even I can draw a paopu fruit.”

 “It’s not that. I…I can’t…” Naminé looked back at the paper, her hand still flat and rejecting it entirely. “I’m…I’m not real. I’ll go away.”

 She really wasn’t like any of his friends: softer, more awkward, more nervous. And completely unable to let herself be happy. “Didn’t I say I wouldn’t forget?” Riku reminded her. He reached out and squeezed her shoulder. Her bones felt fragile under his hand. “You’re real to me. You’re here.”

 Stricken, she shook her head. “But I….”

 He folded the paper and curled her hand over the hard edges. It crinkled at the touch. “And now you’ll always be real, because our destinies are intertwined.”

 She bit her lip before slowly nodding. Wiping a tear from her eyes, she chuckled. “You’re really bad at drawing.”

 “Oh, shut up.” Riku turned around, his ears burning hot. “Like I said, I’m just not interested in it.”