TADASHI X READER things [COMPLETE]

Story 58--Loose Memory Stitches

Guide:

(Y/N): Your name

(Y/L/N): Your Last Name

(F/F): Favourite Flower

(A.N. Okay, so I finally got together all the requests I haven't completed, so I'm going to get started on them right now! So no more originals for a while. This is from BeCreative13 , so yeah, hope you guys all like it! :) )

"No," you muttered, ripping out a page from your sketchbook, watching a sketch of a dress you designed yourself flutter onto the floor. "Too bland," you added to yourself.

You then looked at the next dress, and nodded in approval at the light decorations surrounding the bodice--one that you have designed yourself when you were younger. "This is a pass."

After critiquing every single one of the dresses you have created and wanted to pass through to the designers, you stretched and stood up, placing your sketchbook on the table as you looked out of the window of your office to see the Eiffel Tower looming and taking over most of your view. Yes, you were in the fashion capital now, finally, after so many years of dreaming and hard work. And at this point you were already the boss of the franchise, but even so you wanted to make sure that everything was unique and brought out your taste, and would hopefully serve in the interest of everyone else who wanted to buy your products.

You sighed as you jammed your hand into the pocket of your business skirt, and was just about to head back to your desk when there came a knock on the door.

"Come in," you half-shouted, half-instructed.

The door opened and in came one of your employees, Reagan.

"Ah. Good afternoon, Reagan," you greeted her. "What brings you here today?"

Reagan smiled at your sweet disposition. "Ms. (Y/L/N), I just received news that we've been invited to a fashion show in a week's time in a city called San Fransokyo. Are you at all familiar with this city?"

"San Fransokyo?" You suddenly lost your mind and business-like attitude, replacing that demeanor now with worry and concern. "You're kidding me."

"Actually, miss, I'm not," Reagan said.

You narrowed your eyes. "Who told you this?"

"Our messenger? Vicky?" Reagan prompted to tell you.

You nodded. "I see. I know. It's just that..." You cleared your throat and shook your head at the fuzzy memories of your childhood. There were a few faces you remembered, but the one in the most detail was a certain man who always wore a baseball cap over his jet black hair...oh, never mind. Anyone could have jet black hair and wear a baseball cap, right?

"You alright?" Reagan asked.

You nodded again in assurance. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay." You smiled. "I just have a lot of things to do, now you come and tell me."

"Ahh." Reagan nodded. "Should I...should I leave you in peace then?" she asked.

"Um...I guess you can," you shrugged. "I mean, of course. By all means, if it's in your interest."

"Thank you," she bowed, and left the office with the clack-clack of her heels fading away in the distance. You sighed as you ran a finger through your portfolio, thumbing through all the designs you managed to create over the last few years, before setting your eyes on a few tasteful ones that you wanted to be finished with as soon as possible. Then you called up clients for modelling purposes, and once that was done, you sat back on your chair, closing your eyes as you tried to discern the faces that haunted your mind, their blurry figures occupying your vision. A short girl with black hair and purple streaks who always wore a black leather jacket...another girl with long blond hair and a yellow cardigan...a boy who loved dressing as a monster...another guy who wore a green sweater...a boy with messy black hair...and finally, the one that bothered you most; a guy who wore a green jacket and wore a black baseball cap over his own black hair.