#Evie’s playlist is named ‘<3’ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lividstar · 2 months

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ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤTHE CITY OF LOVE

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎ Chapter Seven: Resolve

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ < previous | next >

masterpost

៚ wc: 12.1k (total: ???)

៚ fluff, angst, fashion designer!hongjoong x model!reader (ft. personal assistant!seonghwa & photographer!wooyoung), slowburn, strangers to lovers, soulmates au if you squint, do french people actually say bonjour irl?

៚ playlist !

៚ Seonghwa invites you to the serene local park where he delivers the exciting news that you’ve secured the modeling job, marking a significant step forward in your new life in Paris. However, as you bask in the joy of this achievement, a nagging concern about Hongjoong’s sketchbook lingers in your mind. By the time you get your first modeling gig, you form a plan to return it to him on the very same day, but the uncertainty of how he will react keeps you on edge. Could things possibly get any worse than they already are?

a/n: so sorry for the long wait (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠) i’ve been going through a major writer’s block lately (and i’m also really busy with my studies) but luckily i managed to finish this chapter before completely losing motivation again 😅 i’d love to have some feedback! <3

tags: @beabatiny

You were busy preparing breakfast for yourself—this time choosing to make an actual meal. You had finally caved in and decided to take a little portion from your savings instead of just settling for a pack of ramen. You decided you didn’t want to jeopardize your health with your terrible dietary choices. The aroma of sizzling eggs and freshly toasted bread filled the small kitchen, creating a cozy, inviting atmosphere.

In the background, the record player your mother had insisted you take with you to Paris was spinning an old vinyl you had secretly taken from your father back in Arcadia Bay. The familiar, nostalgic notes of “La Vie En Rose” filled the room, and you couldn’t help but hum softly to the melody, feeling a bittersweet connection to home. While your hometown wasn’t exactly filled with memories as lighthearted as a rainbow after a thunderstorm, there was a little portion of them that you deemed heartwarming enough to remember—such as this.

Just as you were about to turn off the stove, your phone rang, cutting through the serene atmosphere. You frowned slightly, wondering who could be calling you this early. Wiping your hands on a towel, you picked up the phone and saw your mother’s name flashing on the screen. A sense of unease crept up your spine as you answered. “Mom? Is everything okay?” you asked, feeling a somewhat strange vibe in the air.

“Hi, sweetheart,” she greeted you, but there was a noticeable heaviness in her tone that immediately set off alarm bells in your mind. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I really need to talk to you.”

You quickly turned off the stove and paused the record player, giving her your full attention. Whenever those exact words came out of her mouth, it never meant anything positive, which was precisely why you were now standing near the edge. “What’s going on, Mom? You sound upset.”

There was a brief pause before she spoke again, her voice trembling slightly. “Your father and I... we're having a really hard time sustaining our financial needs. The café... it’s just not doing well. We’re getting fewer and fewer customers every day, and we’re really worried.”

Your heart sank. You knew how much the café meant to them, how hard they had worked to build it from the ground up. Years ago, when they decided you were grown enough to be able to take care of yourself, they flew to a different city, hoping to find a glimmer of hope amidst all the struggles you and your family have and still are going through. That glimmer of hope in question was deciding to open up their own small business.

“Mom… I’m so sorry to hear that. Is there something I can do to help? Anything, really,” you asked, desperation evident in your voice.

She sighed heavily. “I don’t know, dear. We’re trying everything we can, but we’re really scared it might take even longer to repay our debts.”

The mention of their debts made you feel a pang of guilt, especially knowing the major turning point in your life from years ago was the cause of it all. You knew they had taken on a lot to support you and your dreams, and now it felt like you were only adding to their burden. “This is all my fault… I’m so sorry. If I get the modeling job, I promise I’ll work so hard and earn so much that you and Dad will never have to worry again. You’ve already done so much for me. Let me repay you.”

“Sweetheart, you’re not a burden, and none of this is your fault,” she reassured you, her voice softening. “We’re proud of you, and we want you to succeed. Don’t think like that.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you choked out, “I just hate that you’re struggling because of me. Please, try not to stress too much. I’m going to make it. I’ll make sure of it.”

“I know you will, darling,” she said, trying to sound optimistic. “But remember, we’re always here for you, no matter what. We love you.”

“I love you too, Mom. Please take care of yourselves. I’ll call you soon,” you promised, your voice as quiet as the whisper of a passing breeze.

After saying goodbye, you ended the call and stood there, your phone still clutched tightly in your hand. The weight of her words embraced you heavily, making it hard to breathe. Slowly, you sank to the floor, your knees giving out as the tears you had been holding back finally fell.

You sat there, crying quietly, the phone pressed against your chest as you whispered to yourself, “This is all my fault.” The reality of your parents’ struggles and the pressure to succeed was a heavy weight to bear, leaving you feeling utterly helpless.

You had always felt like a burden, despite your parents’ constant reassurances that you weren’t. No matter how often they told you they were proud of you, that you were their greatest joy, you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that you were the source of their struggles.

The thought that haunted you the most was the memory of that one terrible day when everything seemed to spiral out of control. If only things hadn’t gone so horribly wrong. If only the world had been a little kinder to your parents, maybe they wouldn’t be in this situation. Sometimes, in your darkest moments, you wondered if things would have been easier for them if you had never been born. These thoughts had followed you around for years, like a shadow you could never fully escape.

You thought you had left those feelings behind when you moved to Paris. For a month, you managed to keep those dark thoughts at bay, throwing yourself into your new life with a determination to succeed. But now, with the reminder of your parents’ struggles, the harsh reality came crawling back to bite you, and it stung.

You were as fragile as a piece of glass, easily shattered by the weight of your guilt and the pressure to make things right. The façade of strength you had built up over the years crumbled away, revealing the vulnerable, scared person beneath. Maybe you were never as strong as you had made yourself out to be after all.

While you sat there on the cold floor, clutching your phone and sobbing, you felt utterly alone and helpless. The weight of your parents’ sacrifices and the fear of letting them down was almost too much to bear. You wanted so desperately to make things better for them, to prove that their efforts and love weren’t in vain. But in this moment, all you could feel was the crushing weight of your own inadequacy. The dreams and aspirations that had once filled you with hope now seemed like distant, unattainable goals.

A message notification from your phone suddenly emerged, breaking the loud silence of your broken sobs. It was from Seonghwa.

Are you free later in the afternoon?

4PM, specifically.

Quickly wiping your tears, you typed out a reply, telling him that you were indeed free. His response was swift.

Alright, meet me at the park by then. I have something important to tell you.

Your heart dropped even more, worrying that maybe it was some sort of terrible news. But you just told him you’d make sure to be there on time.

Standing up, you wiped the remaining tears using the sleeve of your sweater. You put the record back on to distract yourself from your thoughts, humming to the melody once more as a way of pretending that things were as normal as they could be, as if the phone call with your mother hadn’t occurred at all. The familiar tune of “La Vie En Rose” filled the room, providing a temporary distraction to your troubled mind as you went back to preparing your breakfast.

Hours later, you found yourself walking around the park, searching for Seonghwa. Just as you took your phone out to ask where he was, you received a cryptic text message from him.

I see you.

This made you raise an eyebrow in amusement and maybe a little fear. You remembered how a few of your work colleagues from Arcadia Bay used to do this to you all the time when they invited you to hang out. Maybe not all memories from your hometown were horrible, after all.

After looking around once more, you spotted him sitting on a bench on the other side of the park, holding two cups of coffee in one hand while the other waved to you, a smile on his face. You hurriedly made your way over and greeted him, taking the offered cup of coffee and thanking him. “Thank you for this, Seonghwa,” you said, sitting down beside him. The warmth of the coffee seeped through the cup, comforting you slightly.

“Don’t mention it,” he replied, his smile lingering but a hint of seriousness in his eyes.

Curiosity gnawed at you, and you finally asked, “So, why did you ask me to come here so suddenly?” There was a slight shift in his demeanor as he turned a little more serious. This always seemed to happen whenever he needed to talk about work matters. Noticing this, you straightened up in your seat, bracing yourself for what was about to come.

Seonghwa took a deep breath, setting his coffee down on the bench. “I wanted to talk to you about the agency, the callback, and the process of choosing which aspiring models deserve the spot they’re aiming for. It’s a rigorous process, as you know. The panel looks at various factors: potential, adaptability, and how well a person can embody the vision we have for our projects.”

You nodded, your hands clutching your coffee cup tighter. “Yes, I understand,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, as if you weren’t nearly losing your mind.

He continued, “The decision isn’t just about how you look in the photographs or how you perform in front of the camera. It’s about your story, your passion, and your determination. It’s about how well you can represent the brand and connect with the audience.”

You felt your heart pounding in your chest, each beat echoing louder in your ears. “So… did I… did I make it?” you asked, almost whispering.

Seonghwa paused for a moment, letting the tension build. Then, a smile broke out on his face. “Yes,” he said, his voice filled with warmth and pride. “You got in. You got the job.”

Your mind was a whirlwind of emotions. Relief, disbelief, and overwhelming joy mingled together, making you feel lightheaded. “I… What? I can’t believe it,” you stammered, tears welling up in your eyes again, but this time, joy was the cause behind it.

Seonghwa reached out and gently squeezed your hand. “Believe it,” he said softly. “You’ve worked so hard for this, and it’s finally paying off. We all saw something special in you.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your voice. “Thank you, Seonghwa. Thank you for believing in me… for seeing something in me. I won’t let you down.”

He nodded, his eyes full of sincerity. “I know you won’t. This is just the beginning for you. There’s so much more ahead, and I can’t wait to see what you’ll achieve.”

The realization began to sink in, and you couldn't help but let out a small laugh, the sound of disbelief and happiness mixing together. “This feels like a dream,” you confessed, wiping away the tears that kept streaming down your face. “Just hours ago, I was breaking down, thinking about how I might never get this opportunity. And now… now, I have it.”

Seonghwa smiled warmly, his expression softening. “I understand. It's a lot to take in. But you deserve this. You’ve shown so much potential and passion. We all believe in you, and I’m so happy to have you on board.”

You let out a shaky breath, feeling a wave of relief engulf you in a warm embrace, much like the setting sun. “I don’t even know how to express how grateful I am,” you said, your voice trembling with emotion. “This means everything to me. I promise I’ll give it my all, every single day.”

Seonghwa’s smile widened, his eyes twinkling with pride. “I have no doubt about that. You’re going to do amazing things. This is just the start of a wonderful journey.”

You felt a rush of gratitude, your heart swelling with warmth. “I can’t thank you enough, Seonghwa. For everything. For believing in me, for giving me this chance. It feels like a dream come true.”

Seonghwa chuckled softly. “Well, consider it a reality now. You know,” he said thoughtfully, “I think this is just the beginning of something truly amazing for you. You’ve got the talent, the drive, and the heart. That’s a powerful combination.”

You smiled, feeling a newfound sense of confidence. “Thank you, Seonghwa. Your words mean a lot to me. I'm going to work hard and make you proud.”

“I have no doubt about that,” he replied warmly. “And don't forget to enjoy the journey. It's going to be hectic, but it’s an incredible ride all the same.”

With a final, heartfelt thank you, you both stood up from the bench. Seonghwa gave you a reassuring pat on the back. “How about we go on a walk? You know, a small way to celebrate this moment,” he said with a grin. “You deserve it.”

You laughed, feeling lighter than you had in weeks. “I think I could use a little celebration,” you admitted.

As you both continued to walk around the park, sipping on your half-empty coffee cups, Seonghwa began to delve into the upcoming autumn fashion week. “So, autumn fashion week is a massive event for us,” he started, excitement evident in his voice. “It’s where we’ll be showcasing all the new collections for the season. Hongjoong has been working tirelessly on this for months.”

You listened intently, eager to hear every detail. Seonghwa continued, “The theme this year is ‘Enchantment of Dreams.’ Hongjoong wanted to capture the delicate beauty of autumn, but with a twist. Think of flowing fabrics, soft, muted colors, and a mix of natural elements with a bit of fantasy. It’s all about creating a dreamy, almost otherworldly atmosphere.”

He paused to let the theme sink in before moving on. “The types of designs we’re aiming for include long, flowing gowns made from light, airy fabrics like chiffon and silk. There are also more structured pieces that incorporate natural textures like leaves and flowers. Some of the designs even have intricate beadwork and embroidery that give them a mystical feel. Like they’re made for forest fairies, you know.”

You could picture the collection in your mind, a blend of nature and fantasy coming to life on the runway. “That sounds so beautiful,” you whispered, nearly to yourself, genuinely impressed.

Seonghwa smiled, clearly pleased with your reaction. “It really is. Hongjoong has such a clear vision for what he wants to present. He’s been sketching and refining these designs for months. Each piece is a work of art.”

Curiosity got the better of you, and you asked, “How’s the process going so far?”

Seonghwa let out a sigh. “Well, aside from successfully recruiting models that are suitable for the event’s theme, we’re stuck in a bit of a predicament.”

You furrowed your brows in confusion. “What kind of predicament, exactly?”

Seonghwa’s expression turned more serious. “All of Hongjoong’s designs for fashion week were in his sketchbook, but the thing is, it’s missing. He still hasn’t found it.”

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks. Not only did the sketchbook belong to Hongjoong, but now you were also finding out that all his designs for autumn fashion week were drafted in there? Your steps faltered, and you nearly stopped in your tracks, eyes wide with shock.

I have to return it to him. No, I definitely need to return it to him. I can’t let myself be further consumed by my fears when the consequences waiting ahead are far worse than losing my job. Keeping something of such immense value is not an option. There will be a huge price to pay, but it’s nothing compared to the damage that could be done if Hongjoong doesn’t get his sketchbook back in time for fashion week.

Seonghwa noticed your sudden silence and the far-off look in your eyes. “Are you alright?” he asked, concern lacing his tone.

You snapped back to reality, giving him a reassuring nod. “Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry, I just got lost in my thoughts for a moment.”

Seonghwa seemed to accept your explanation and didn’t pry any further. “It’s understandable. There’s a lot to process,” he said kindly.

Trying to steer the conversation back, you asked, “How is Hongjoong holding up with the sketchbook missing? He must be really stressed.”

Seonghwa sighed again. “He’s definitely not in the best place right now. Losing that sketchbook was a huge blow. He’s been frantically trying to recreate the designs from memory, but it’s not the same. That sketchbook held his original inspirations and ideas.”

You could only imagine the pressure Hongjoong must be under. “That sounds incredibly tough. I hope he finds it soon.” I hope I can return it to him soon.

Seonghwa nodded. “We all do. Everyone’s been looking for it, hoping it will turn up before it's too late.”

As the conversation continued, you felt a growing sense of urgency. You knew what you had to do. Returning the sketchbook wasn’t just about doing the right thing—it was about helping someone in a desperate situation. The weight of that responsibility was heavy, but it also gave you a sense of clarity and purpose. You walked with Seonghwa a bit longer, discussing lighter topics and enjoying each other’s company. But in the back of your mind, the decision was made. You had to find a way to return the sketchbook to Hongjoong before it’s too late.

—

The Fashion Week was still quite a long road away, but Seonghwa insisted you should get your first exposure to the fashion world in advance. This way, you’d gain valuable experience and not feel too pressured by the time fashion week arrived. Today, you were set to do a photoshoot featuring Hongjoong’s recent collection released earlier this year. The collection’s theme was ‘The Beauty of Time,’ a blend of vintage charm and modern sophistication. It featured outfits with intricate lace details, flowing silk skirts, and structured blazers in rich jewel tones. The setting was an old Parisian mansion, with grand staircases and opulent chandeliers, perfectly matching the collection’s vibe.

You also had a mission to return the sketchbook to Hongjoong today—before your fear could fully consume you and let the day pass by as a heavy failure. You just had to find a way.

Now, you were at the photoshoot venue, being prepped by one of the stylists. She seemed a few years older than you, with a kind demeanor that put you at ease. As she worked on your hair and makeup, you two indulged in small talk. “Have you ever done something like this before?” she asked, her eyes reflecting genuine curiosity.

You softly shook your head. “No, this is an entirely foreign world to me.”

She seemed genuinely shocked. “Really? That’s hard to believe because you have the perfect features for a model. We’re lucky Seonghwa found you before any other agency did. Are you from around here?”

You smiled at her compliment, feeling a bit more at ease. “Thank you. And, no, I’m actually from a small town, not from Paris.”

“Ah, that explains it,” she said with a knowing nod. “Small towns tend to have restricted opportunities. Perhaps that’s why your well-deserved exposure is long overdue.” You nodded in agreement, appreciating her understanding. It was true, in a way. If Arcadia Bay wasn’t as small as it was, you probably never would’ve considered flying to Paris. Unfortunately, reality has a twisted knack for imposing challenges even when you’re not up for it.

After she finished styling you, she complimented your look and wished you luck. Just as she left the room, Seonghwa walked in, his eyes lighting up when he saw you. “Wow, you look elegant.”

You smiled, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. You weren’t used to receiving compliments, much more being called elegant. “Thank you. The stylist was really nice.”

He raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Really? She isn’t usually talkative around models. She must’ve taken a liking to you.”

You chuckled softly, feeling a bit more confident. “Well, I’m glad. She made me feel comfortable.”

Seonghwa smiled, clearly pleased. “Good to hear. Now, let’s get you to the photoshoot.” You nodded, taking a deep breath as you followed him. You wore a stunning outfit from Hongjoong’s collection: a flowing, floor-length silk dress in a rich sapphire blue, with eye-catching lace details along the neckline and sleeves. The dress had a vintage yet modern feel, and it felt perfect for the theme.

The photoshoot began in earnest, with Wooyoung directing each shot. “Alright, let’s start with some classic poses by the grand staircase. Think regal, timeless elegance.”

You positioned yourself as instructed, feeling the weight of the dress and the grandeur of the setting. Each click of the camera seemed to bring a new wave of confidence.

“Beautiful,” Wooyoung praised, adjusting the lighting. “Now, let’s move to the balcony. I want you to look out as if you’re lost in thought, dreaming of something wonderful. Kinda like if you were Cinderella daydreaming about her Prince Charming.”

The example he set was… unexpected, to say the least, but much to your surprise, it actually did its wonders and helped you immerse yourself in the theme. You followed his guidance, leaning slightly against the ornate railing and gazing out over the mansion’s lush gardens. The soft afternoon light cast a golden glow over everything, enhancing the ethereal quality of the shoot.

Hours passed as you moved from one location to another within the mansion, each scene more breathtaking than the last. You posed by antique mirrors, draped yourself elegantly on velvet sofas, and even walked through a hallway lined with vintage portraits.

Finally, the photoshoot came to an end. Wooyoung clapped his hands together, beaming. “That’s a wrap! You did an amazing job.”

You smiled, feeling a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration. “Thank you. It was a wonderful experience.”

Seonghwa approached you, looking pleased. “You were fantastic. I’m really proud of you.” Just as you were about to respond, you saw Hongjoong entering the venue. Panic surged through you, and you quickly turned away, leaving behind a confused Seonghwa and heading straight for Wooyoung, who was busy checking his shots.

“Sorry to bother you, but is there a restroom around here?” you asked, trying to keep your voice calm.

He looked up in surprise, eventually nodding as he pointed towards a hallway. “Yep. Just down there, to the left.”

You quickly made your way towards the restroom, heart pounding. Once inside, you leaned your back against the wall, a hand on your chest as you sighed in relief. You didn’t know why you were so scared of crossing paths with Hongjoong. Maybe it was the guilt of not immediately returning his sketchbook to him the moment he introduced himself to you. Perhaps it was simply because you’ve always been a coward, just like when you were young.

Taking a moment to steady yourself, you walked towards the mirror to fix your appearance and wash your hands. Just as your hand held the doorknob to leave, you overheard two familiar voices coming from a corner nearby—Hongjoong and Seonghwa. You paused, listening intently.

Hongjoong let out an exasperated sigh, rubbing his temples. “While I’m glad things seem to be turning out well for her, I still can’t shake off the thought of permanently losing my sketchbook. We already have the perfect model for the collection, but this predicament outweighs the greener side of the grass.”

Seonghwa tried to reassure him. “Maybe it’ll come by when you least expect it.” But even he sounded doubtful. Comforting Hongjoong through blatant lies was just as bad as adding fuel to the fire. Their voices grew more inaudible with each second until you could no longer hear them. Maybe they went back to the venue’s main hall.

You bit the inside of your cheek, making a mental note to ask Seonghwa for Hongjoong’s number before it was time to head back home. You couldn’t keep something with such a huge value in your hands much longer.

Once you were sure the coast was clear, you emerged from the restroom, walking back to the main hall while nervously fiddling with your fingers. You spotted Seonghwa sitting by the staircase next to Wooyoung, and as soon as he saw you, his face lit up.

He walked towards you with a welcoming smile. “Why’d you run off so suddenly earlier?” he asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

You waved him off, hoping he wouldn’t pry further. “I just needed to go to the restroom,” you said, keeping your tone as casual as possible. Fortunately, he didn’t push for more details.

“Well, Hongjoong stopped by for a bit and left just a few seconds before you got back,” Seonghwa informed you, his eyes scanning your face for a reaction.

You tried to act as if you weren’t already aware—as if Hongjoong wasn’t literally the reason you ran towards the restroom. You forced a nod, your expression neutral. “Oh? Did he say why he was here?”

Seonghwa shrugged. “He was actually looking for you, but something urgent came up, so he had to leave early.”

Thank God for that, you thought, your relief barely concealed. You nodded again, a desperate attempt to act casual, subtly biting the inside of your cheek. “Did he mention why he was looking for me?”

Seonghwa shook his head. “He didn’t get a chance to tell me. But don’t worry, he’ll most likely elaborate further once he’s done with whatever urgent business he’s handling.”

You let out a small sigh of relief, though your mind was still racing. At least you had a chance to return the sketchbook before the day was over. But what if that’s exactly why he was looking for you? No, no, that couldn’t be the case. You had to quit stressing yourself out.

Suddenly, you remembered your mental note to ask for Hongjoong’s number. You glanced at Seonghwa, trying to keep your voice steady. “Seonghwa, could I get Hongjoong’s number? I might need to discuss something with him... you know, business matters.”

Seonghwa smiled, not seeming to be suspicious. “Oh, sure thing. Give me a moment.” He pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts before finding Hongjoong’s number and sharing it with you.

“Thank you,” you said, grateful that he didn’t ask further questions. Being a model on the fresh start of her journey needing to message the creative director of the brand she’s under was perfectly plausible.

With Hongjoong’s number saved in your phone, you felt a mixture of anxiety and determination. You couldn’t let this opportunity slip away, but you also couldn’t let fear control your actions. Now, you just need to find the right moment to return the sketchbook and hopefully clear the air.

Hours had passed, and the photoshoot concluded perfectly. Before you left the venue, Wooyoung approached you with a smile. “I might take about a short while to edit the shots I’ve taken. I’ll make sure you’re the first to see them, just in case there are a few photos you wouldn’t like to be published,” he said, catching you by surprise.

You nodded, genuinely touched. “Thank you, Wooyoung. I appreciate that.”

He grinned, his eyes turning into small crescents. “No problem. It’s important that you’re comfortable with everything.”

As you left, you reflected on how considerate everyone had been. It shattered your preconceived notions about the fashion industry. Prejudices can indeed be harmful, you mused.

Now, you found yourself at the park once more, nervously shaking your legs as the tips of your fingers hovered over the letters on your phone’s keyboard. You deeply contemplated what message to send Hongjoong. Every possible phrase ran through your mind, each one feeling inadequate or too forward. How were you going to construct a message asking him to come to the park because you had something important to talk about?

After what felt like an eternity, you finally settled on a message you deemed sufficient:

Hi, Hongjoong. Sorry for the late notice, but I was hoping we could meet at the park for a moment. There’s something important I need to discuss with you. Let me know if you’re available. Thank you.

For a moment, you could only stare at the send button, which seemed to glare back at you with an almost mocking intensity. Letting out a sigh, you closed your eyes shut the exact moment you hit the button, trying so hard to keep yourself calm. Okay, maybe you were being quite dramatic right now, but you’ve always had a thing for being an overthinker—so what’s the surprise now?

It took a couple of minutes until your phone buzzed with Hongjoong’s response.

I’ll be on my way in a bit.

You sent a quick message back, ensuring he knew you’d be patiently waiting. Then, deciding to avoid making yourself more nervous, you turned off your phone. Your eyes drifted to the sketchbook inside your bag, a contemplative gaze settling on your face.

Your mind began to spiral into a torrent of overthinking. What if this doesn’t go the way you’re hoping it will? What if this makes things awkward between you two? The sketchbook held his designs for Autumn Fashion Week. Losing it must have caused him immense stress. Would he even be able to trust you again after this? What if the consequences were more severe than you anticipated? Each scenario played out in vivid detail, heightening your anxiety with every passing second. Most of all, you worried about Hongjoong’s reaction. Would he be disappointed? Understanding? Furious?

As you sat there, these thoughts swirling uncontrollably, you began to realize just how significant this moment was. The weight of the sketchbook in your bag felt heavier with each passing minute, a tangible reminder of the impact your actions could have.

Just as your thoughts were about to spiral deeper into a vortex of anxiety, a familiar voice softly called your name from behind. You turned around sharply, your heart nearly leaping out of your chest. There stood Hongjoong, his expression warm and slightly curious.

You immediately stood up from the bench, awkwardly fumbling with your hands, struggling to find the right way to greet him. At that moment, you realized how foolish your plan was. Here was the creative director of the brand you were now modeling for, and you had asked him to meet you at a local park? The idea seemed incredibly disrespectful in hindsight, and you cringed inwardly at your own lack of foresight.

Hongjoong seemed to notice the shift in your demeanor. His eyes softened, and as if he could read your mind, he laughed gently, attempting to put you at ease. “It’s all good,” he reassured you, his tone kind and understanding.

“I’m so sorry for asking you to come here at such an unexpected hour,” you apologized, your voice tinged with genuine regret and bashfulness. Truthfully, all you could wish for right now was for a lightning to magically strike exactly where you were currently standing. It would hurt less than having to endure the embarrassment you were currently facing.

“It’s alright, really,” he said, waving off your concern with a nonchalant gesture. “How about we take a seat, and you can tell me what you called me here for?”

You nodded, your heart still pounding in your chest. You sat back down on the bench, scooting to the side to give him ample space. Taking a deep breath, you tried to steady your nerves, your fingers trembling slightly as you clasped them together.

“So,” Hongjoong began, his eyes never leaving your face, “what’s on your mind?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but your words came out in a jumbled mess. “Well, you see, it’s just... I mean, I wanted to... there’s something important I...”

Hongjoong listened intently, his expression patient but slightly puzzled. He waited for you to continue, giving you the space you needed to gather your thoughts. He could tell you were avoiding the main topic, and his curiosity was piqued. After a moment of watching you struggle, he gently cut in, his voice soft and encouraging. “It’s okay. Just cut to the chase.”

You pursed your lips, feeling the anxiety tighten like a vice around your chest. With a shaky hand, you reached into your bag and pulled out the sketchbook, shoving it into his arms. Immediately, you stood up, your first instinct to run away. But Hongjoong quickly stood up too, catching your wrist in a gentle but firm grip and turning you back towards him.

The look in his eyes was unreadable, a mix of curiosity and something else you couldn’t quite place. Under his steady gaze, you felt a wave of shame and guilt wash over you. You began to ramble, the words spilling out uncontrollably.

“Look, I’m so, so sorry—I really didn’t want to keep it for so long, I just couldn’t find a way to return it to you because I was so scared my career would be jeopardized before it even started. I was afraid you’d be upset, and that’s completely valid because if I were you, I would be chasing myself around with a knife right now, and...”

Hongjoong let go of your wrist and laughed, a sound so unexpected that it made you fall silent. The tears that had been threatening to fall halted themselves, leaving you feeling both confused and relieved.

You looked at him with a puzzled expression. “... Why are you laughing?”

He smiled, still chuckling softly. “Upset? Not once was I ever upset the day I found out you had my sketchbook because I knew it was in good hands.”

This statement only deepened your confusion. “Huh? Sorry, what do you mean by that?”

He shifted lightly. “Do you remember the first casting audition you attended?” he asked, his eyes glinting with a hint of amusement. You nodded wordlessly, your mind racing to recall the details. “I knew my sketchbook was in your hands the moment I saw what you were wearing,” he explained, his tone matter-of-fact.

Then it hit you. The dress you had worn that day was inspired by one of his designs, a subtle homage to his work. “Is… is that why you approached me in the waiting room that day?” you asked, realization dawning on you.

“Yes, but I also wanted to see how you would react to me introducing myself,” he admitted, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I had a hunch you had no idea I was the owner of the sketchbook.”

You felt dumbfounded, the pieces of the puzzle slowly falling into place. “You knew all along? Why didn’t you confront me about it?”

He shrugged comfortably, his demeanor relaxed. “I knew I could trust you to return it eventually.” He looked down at the sketchbook now back in his hands, his expression one of satisfaction. “And I guess I was right, after all.”

“So… what’s going to happen to me now?” you asked, your voice small and uncertain, the weight of your fears hanging heavy right above your head, the rope holding it up a second close to snapping.

“What do you mean?” he replied, his brow furrowing slightly in confusion.

“Aren’t I going to get in trouble? It’s what I deserve, you know. Seonghwa told me about how much stress you’ve been having to endure because of your missing sketchbook.”

He waved you off, shaking his head with a reassuring smile. “You only would’ve gotten in trouble if you had chosen to leak my designs or didn’t come forward like you did now.”

There was a short pause as he reached into his shoulder bag. When you saw a tiny peek of what it was, your eyes immediately widened.

“So, now that that’s out of the way, I’m guessing this is yours, then?” he said, raising the object high enough for you to see.

Your journal.

You could only look at it in complete, utter shock, your eyes wide with surprise. He had your journal all along, too? But how come he had it with him now, at this very specific moment? Did he already know beforehand that you were the owner of it, too?

“How did you... how’d you know that belongs to me?” you asked, still dumbfoundedly staring at it as it remained in his hands.

He shrugged with a knowing smile. “Call it a hunch.”

You took it from his grasp, flipping through the pages just to make sure it was actually your journal. It was. “No, seriously, how did you know...?”

He paused, then admitted, “Well, may have read a single page. What I read was an entry about wanting to move to a new country to restart your life and turn over a new leaf. I remembered that the moment you told your story about your past to the casting directors during the auditions, and that’s when I put two and two together. I was just waiting for the right time to return it to you.”

“The right time as in the time I’d finally decide to return your sketchbook?”

“Precisely,” he responded, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“So you knew my intention behind asking you to meet up tonight?” you asked, a mix of amazement and embarrassment flooding through you.

“I did. Call it a hunch—for real this time.”

You looked up at him, trying to process everything. “So... where do we go from here?”

He tilted his head slightly, a curious expression on his face. “What do you mean by that?”

You fiddled with the hem of the sweater you were wearing, not really sure how this night was meant to be concluded—another thing you forgot to consider, thanks to your constant overthinking. “You have your sketchbook, and I have my journal... I suppose we should call this a day, then?”

He chuckled softly. “You’re still tense, aren’t you?”

You sighed, feeling the tension in your shoulders that you had been trying to ignore. “I can’t help it.”

Hongjoong tried to lighten the mood with a playful tone. “You better be, because who knows if I might switch up on you last minute or not.”

But his attempt at humor backfired. You immediately began to worry, your words coming out in a frantic scurry. “Please don’t! I mean, I really didn’t mean to keep it for so long. I was just scared, and...”

“No, no, I didn’t mean that,” he quickly interjected, his smile turning sheepish. “That was probably not a good joke... Sorry about that.” Hongjoong then spoke up again, his tone more sincere. “Let’s see… Why don’t we stop by the cafe where this all started? Just to get your mind off your persisting worries?”

You hesitated, trying to turn his offer down. “Oh, I don’t want to take up more of your time than I already did. You’re probably busy...”

He shook his head, his expression earnest. “That’s not the case at all. I don’t mind. Really, I insist.” Seeing the genuine look in his eyes, you finally nodded, a small smile forming on your lips as you caved in.

As you both started walking, you felt some of the tension begin to ease. The sketchbook and journal were back with their rightful owners, and despite the initial awkwardness, the evening was starting to take a more positive turn. The park was quiet, the air filled with the soft rustle of leaves and the distant hum of city life, creating a calming backdrop for your walk to the cafe.

Hongjoong led the way, his steps confident yet relaxed. “You know,” he began, glancing at you, “I’ve always believed that the right things find their way back to you at the right time. Looks like today was one of those days.”

You nodded, reflecting on his words. “Yeah, I suppose it was.”

You and Hongjoong eventually approached the cafe, the warm, inviting light spilling out onto the street through the large windows. The bell above the door chimed softly as you entered, and a comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods filled the air. The interior was cozy, with a few patrons scattered around, each immersed in their own little worlds. You both walked up to the counter, where a cheerful barista greeted you with a welcoming smile.

Hongjoong glanced at you, gesturing for you to go first. “What would you like?”

You scanned the menu briefly before deciding. “I’ll have a caramel macchiato, please.”

The barista nodded and turned to Hongjoong. “And for you, sir?”

“I’ll take an Americano,” he replied with a friendly nod.

As the barista prepared your drinks, you and Hongjoong made small talk, the earlier tension steadily dissolving into a more relaxed and natural conversation. Once your drinks were ready, you carried them over to a small table by the window, where the soft evening light created a serene atmosphere.

Settling into your seats, Hongjoong took a sip of his coffee before turning his attention to you. “So, about that dress you wore at the audition. How did you make it? Because, as my memory serves me, it was a hundred percent identical to the design I made.”

You smiled, reminiscing about the creation process. “The landlord of the apartment I’m currently staying in helped me with making it. It was her way of thanking me for helping her with grocery shopping one day. She’s really talented with a sewing machine.”

Hongjoong’s eyes softened, and a warm smile spread across his face. “That’s really heartwarming. It’s wonderful how small acts of kindness can lead to such beautiful collaborations. It’s like the universe has a way of bringing the right people together at the right time.”

Touched by his words, you nodded. “The design itself was really beautiful and eye-catching. What was the inspiration behind it?”

Hongjoong’s expression shifted to a more somber tone as he gazed out the window, his fingers tracing the rim of his coffee cup. “They’re inspired by the dreams I have failed to reach.”

Intrigued by the depth of his statement, you leaned forward slightly. “Sorry, could you elaborate on that?”

He paused, as if carefully choosing his words, before responding with a poetic yet cryptic tone. “Sometimes, the dreams we chase slip through our fingers like grains of sand, leaving behind a haunting echo of what could have been. But in that echo, there’s still beauty, still inspiration.”

His words hung in the air, carrying a weight that spoke volumes. You could sense there was more to his story than he was letting on. “Is this dream of yours still up there, or has it already dissipated?”

Hongjoong sighed, a touch of uncertainty in his eyes. “To be honest, I don’t know. All I know is that I don’t want it to be the latter.”

Sensing the mood deflating, you decided to steer the conversation towards lighter waters. “Tell me about Seonghwa and Wooyoung. Have you known them for a long time? The three of you seem really close.”

A smile tugged at Hongjoong’s lips, and he nodded appreciatively. “Yes, we’ve known each other since our youth. Seonghwa and I go way back. As for Wooyoung, we met him in college. He’s a year behind us, but it didn’t take long for us to become close friends.”

“How did the three of you meet?” you asked, genuinely curious.

Hongjoong’s eyes sparkled with fond memories. “Seonghwa and I have known each other since we were kids. We grew up in the same neighborhood and went to the same schools. Wooyoung, on the other hand, we met him during his first year of college when we were in our second. He was this energetic, passionate guy who always had a camera in his hand. We quickly became friends, and our bond just grew stronger over time.”

He continued, his voice warm with nostalgia. “Wooyoung had this knack for capturing moments, and he saw the world in a way that inspired us both. Seonghwa and I were drawn to his creativity, and he brought out the best in us. The three of us complemented each other perfectly, both in our personal lives and in our professional endeavors.”

Hongjoong turned the conversation towards you, his curiosity piqued. “What about you? Do you have any friends that you cherish as much as I do with Wooyoung and Seonghwa?”

You paused to think about it. The figures that appeared in your mind were the daughter of the diner owner you used to work for and another person whose friendship you were unsure about.

Clearing your throat, you snapped out of your thoughts and looked up, meeting Hongjoong’s gaze with your own. “Yes, I do. She’s from Arcadia Bay, my hometown. Her name is Chloe—she’s someone I met through her mother, who owned the diner I used to work at before I got fired for always gobbling up both the leftovers and incorrect orders.”

Hongjoong’s laugh broke the story, and he immediately apologized, but you smiled, shaking your head. “It’s okay. I have to admit, it was a ridiculous way to get fired.” You continued, recounting your friendship with Chloe.

“She’s really cool. A bit of a bad influence, but she was one of the few reasons why I still consider my life in Arcadia Bay worth remembering. She was like those typical angsty teens you’d see in movies—the whole starter pack, even. You know, dyed hair, tattoos, alternative clothing style, sneaking into concerts of rock bands. She had every right to be like that, though. During my shift hours, she’d always keep me company by entertaining me with life stories she definitely shouldn’t have been going through at her age back then. We were sixteen, but that’s usually the rebellious time period for teenagers, so I guess it checks out.”

Hongjoong listened intently to every word, his focus never wavering. You could tell he was genuinely interested in what you were sharing. His attention made you feel valued, as if your stories were as important to him as his own.

“Sounds like your typical high school friendship,” he mused with a smile. “Can’t say it wasn’t the same case for me and Seonghwa, honestly.”

“Hold on, you had a rebellious teen phase?” you asked, leaning forward, genuinely curious.

Hongjoong’s expression grew more animated as he recalled his rebellious past, his eyes twinkling with a mix of mischief and nostalgia. “Oh, you have no idea. Seonghwa and I were quite the troublemakers back then. We were involved in some pretty intense stuff—definitely not your average teenage rebellion, but I’m not too proud of that fact.”

You leaned in, intrigued by the shift in his demeanor. “Like what?” You had to admit, finding out that the man who always seemed to be so poised used to be a reckless teenager was jarring.

He chuckled, a hint of daring in his voice. “Well, for starters, we were heavily into the underground party scene. I’m talking about secret raves in abandoned warehouses and hidden clubs where the music was so loud, you could barely hear yourself think. The kind of places where the lights were always dim, and you had to know someone to get in.”

You listened intently, picturing the vibrant, chaotic scenes he described. “That sounds wild.” It was the type of life you’ll never be able to picture yourself experiencing—the very first proof of this being always turning down Chloe’s invites to parties taking place in a shady venue. It seemed fun, that’s for sure, but you just weren’t really built for it.

“Oh, it was,” Hongjoong agreed, his smile widening. “We were also really into street racing. Seonghwa had this old, souped-up car that he’d been working on for months. We’d drive it through the city streets, racing against anyone who dared to challenge us. Sometimes, we’d even have to make a quick getaway when the police showed up.”

His words painted a vivid picture of adrenaline-fueled nights and high-stakes races. “The police? That must have been thrilling.”

“It was,” he said, his gaze distant as if replaying the scenes in his mind. “And then there were the run-ins with the law. We were caught a few times, of course. Nothing too serious, but we had our share of close calls. There was this one time we were cornered by the cops after a particularly wild race, and we had to evade them through the back alleys of the city. It was like something out of a movie.”

Your eyes widened, impressed by the intensity of his teenage years. “Didn’t that ever scare you?”

He shrugged, a nonchalant smile on his face. “Not really. At the time, it felt like living on the edge was the only way to really feel alive. It was exhilarating, but we always managed to stay one step ahead. Those experiences made us who we are today, and while I don’t miss the chaos, I look back on it with a certain fondness.”

“You seem so different now,” you observed, noting the contrast between his past and present demeanor.

“Yeah,” Hongjoong agreed, his smile softening. “I guess I’ve changed quite a bit. Those days taught me a lot, but I also realized that I needed to channel that energy into something more constructive. That’s how I ended up finding my path in fashion designing. It was like a transformation from chaos to creativity. I still have a taste for adventure, but I prefer it now in the form of pushing boundaries in design rather than… dodging the cops.”

You laughed, though it was soon followed by an understanding nod, taking in the depth of his transformation. “It sounds like those years shaped you a lot. What was Seonghwa like during all this?”

Hongjoong’s eyes lit up as he spoke about his friend. “Seonghwa was my partner in crime, quite literally. He was just as reckless and adventurous as I was. We were inseparable back then. He had a natural knack for getting us into the thick of things—whether it was by pushing our luck with illegal street races or sneaking into the most exclusive underground parties.”

You could sense the warmth in Hongjoong’s tone as he spoke of Seonghwa. “And did he ever get tired of all the chaos?”

“No,” Hongjoong laughed, shaking his head. “If anything, he thrived on it. We both did. But as we grew older, we started to see the value in channeling that rebellious spirit into something more sustainable. We realized that we could use our drive and creativity in more productive ways.”

He paused for a moment, his gaze reflecting a mixture of nostalgia and contentment. “It’s funny, really. What once was all about defying norms and breaking rules became a passion for creating something new and innovative. I think it’s one of the reasons why Seonghwa and I get along so well. We understand each other’s journey from foolish teens to responsible adults.”

“Do you ever miss those days?” you asked, curious if he ever longed for the simpler times.

Hongjoong’s expression softened. “Sometimes. Life was simpler back then. No major responsibilities, just living in the moment. But I also appreciate where I am now. Those experiences shaped who I am today, and I wouldn’t trade them for anything.”

You nodded in agreement, understanding his sentiment. “It’s amazing how those memories stay with us and influence who we become.”

He smiled warmly at you. “Right. And it’s the people we meet along the way that make those memories special. Like Chloe for you.”

“Yeah,” you said softly, thinking about your old friend. “Chloe was definitely one of those people. She made my time in Arcadia Bay memorable, despite everything.”

Hongjoong’s eyes held a hint of admiration as he looked at you. “It sounds like you had a real connection with her. Those kinds of friendships are rare and valuable.”

“They are,” you agreed, feeling a sense of nostalgia. “I’m grateful for those times, even if they’re in the past now.”

You leaned back in your chair, taking a moment to gather your thoughts before speaking. “You know, it feels a little weird sharing these stories with you. Not that it makes me uncomfortable, it’s just… I quite literally work under you. I can’t help but feel worried that I’m crossing a boundary by talking about these things.”

Hongjoong’s expression softened as he leaned forward, his eyes meeting yours. “I understand why you might feel that way, but you’re not crossing any boundaries. Outside of work and the industry, I’m not a creative director. I’m just a normal human, just like you. So, it’s alright to talk to me about these things.”

You smiled, feeling a bit more reassured. “It might take a while for me to get used to talking to you comfortably without feeling guilty right after, though.” You sheepishly rubbed the back of your neck.

He nodded, his smile understanding. “That’s completely understandable. Take your time.”

The conversation shifted to lighter topics, and minutes later, you both decided to call it a night. Hongjoong stood up, lending his hand to help you out of your seat.

“Let me take you home,” he offered. While your initial thought was to turn him down, you knew deep inside you had a huge fear of walking alone late at night, so all you could do was accept his offer with a wordless nod of gratitude.

As you walked together towards your apartment, Hongjoong began to indulge you in small talk. “So, tell me more about your landlord.”

You smiled, thinking of Madame Dupont. “She’s always been very kind to me ever since I first moved in. She’s a lovely woman. She has a beautiful garden at the apartment, and back when I was still on my job hunt, I’d see her early in the morning, watering her plants and flowers. I think it’s a nice hobby to have.”

Hongjoong nodded, appreciating the sentiment. “Gardening does sound like a peaceful hobby. Have you ever thought about making your own garden?”

“I actually have, quite a few times already. But I can barely even take care of myself, so taking care of something else—a whole bunch of them at that—doesn’t really seem like a good idea on my behalf,” you joked, and both of you shared a laugh.

The laughter faded, and you shifted the conversation. “What about you? Do you have a dream hobby you wish to indulge in one day?”

Hongjoong’s eyes lit up with excitement. “I’ve actually been wanting to learn how to play the guitar—an electric one specifically. But I’m just currently too busy with my work to sneak in a hobby.”

You decided to test the waters with a light-hearted joke. “That hobby is long overdue. You should’ve thought of it back when you were in your angsty teen phase.” Was that alright to say? Was it too far?

Much to your relief, Hongjoong laughed heartily. “You’re right. It would’ve fit perfectly with who I was back then.”

When you both finally reached your apartment building, you let out a small hum of surprise as a familiar figure darted towards you—a mischievous little feline known all too well to you.

“Pompidou?” you called out softly, crouching down as the cat stopped right in front of you, looking up with wide, curious eyes. You bent your knees, scooping it up into your arms with a gentle smile, feeling the comforting weight and warmth of the small creature.

Hongjoong watched this interaction with a fond smile, his eyes reflecting a mix of curiosity and amusement. “Is that your cat?” he asked, stepping a little closer to get a better look.

You shook your head, still smiling as you stroked Pompidou’s soft fur. “No, he belongs to a fellow tenant. Pompidou just prefers to stay outdoors more. He’s quite the adventurous little guy.”

Intrigued, Hongjoong reached out to rub the cat’s head. “Be careful, he might—” You started to warn him about Pompidou’s unpredictable nature, but to your surprise, the cat began nuzzling its head against Hongjoong’s palm, purring contentedly.

You couldn’t help but smile at the sight, glancing up at Hongjoong. The proximity between your faces made your heart skip a beat, and you quickly looked back down at Pompidou, feeling a bit flustered. Clearing your throat to regain composure, you said, “It likes you.”

Hongjoong continued to rub Pompidou’s head, his touch gentle and kind. “Does it usually not accept physical touch from people who aren’t its owner?” he asked, looking genuinely curious.

You nodded. “You’re right. Sometimes, Pompidou doesn’t even like being touched by its owner. Poor Monsieur Frank always has to chase him around. It’s quite a sight.”

This made Hongjoong chuckle, a warm sound that resonated in the quiet evening. “But it likes you?”

You shrugged, still a bit puzzled by the cat’s behavior. “I honestly have no idea why that’s the case. Maybe he senses something.”

Hongjoong’s eyes softened as he watched the cat nuzzle against you. “I remember reading an article about animals and their behavioral traits, and it said that when a cat is naturally drawn to you, it means you have a kind soul and they can sense it.”

The thought of Pompidou seeing your soul as something pure warmed your heart, making you embrace the cat a little tighter. You glanced at Hongjoong, touched by his words. “Maybe that’s why it likes you a lot,” he mused quietly, almost as if speaking to himself.

As you cradled Pompidou in your arms like a baby, Hongjoong took a step back, reaching into his bag to retrieve his phone. He quickly snapped a candid photo of you with the cat, the moment capturing the tender interaction between you and Pompidou. Once the photo was taken, he discreetly put his phone back in his bag.

Only then did you turn your attention back to him, smiling warmly. “Thank you for spending the evening with me and walking me home. It was really nice. And… I’m still so sorry about not choosing to return the sketchbook sooner.”

Hongjoong laughed softly, shaking his head. “No need to thank me. I enjoyed it too. And don’t worry about the sketchbook. It’s really not a problem.”

You waved goodbye, watching as he safely crossed the road before finally heading inside. Setting Pompidou down gently on the floor, you bid the cat farewell too before heading up to your apartment. Once inside, you heaved a soft sigh of relief, feeling the familiar comfort of your home envelop you after a long day. Stretching your arms, you plopped yourself on the floor, leaning back against the couch to relax.

A message notification from Hongjoong pinged on your phone, showing a photo attachment. Opening it with initial confusion, you smiled widely as you saw a candid photo of you holding Pompidou in your arms. The image captured the warmth of the moment perfectly. You quickly reacted to the photo with a heart, typing out a response.

How come I didn’t notice you taking this photo?

Hongjoong’s reply then came swiftly, nearly a couple seconds right after you sent yours.

When you have a cat in your arms, it’s quite impossible to focus on everything that’s happening around you.

You laughed at his message, feeling a sense of warmth spread through you. You thanked him for today once more before shutting your phone and calling it a day—a well-spent one, at that.

—

It still felt surreal to everyone except for Hongjoong that the sketchbook was finally back in his hands, removing the key obstacle that had been troubling him for a while. It had been three days since he shared the news with Seonghwa and Wooyoung, and despite the word spreading quickly, people still found it hard to believe that it had resurfaced just when everyone least expected it. Relief was the dominant sentiment among the team, but Seonghwa and Wooyoung couldn’t shake their curiosity about how, when, and where Hongjoong found the sketchbook. This mystery led them to their usual spot for private conversations about Hongjoong: Seonghwa’s office.

Seonghwa sat at his desk, diligently working through paperwork, while Wooyoung sprawled on the office couch, staring at the ceiling with a thoughtful frown.

“I just don’t get why he’d be so cryptic about it,” Wooyoung said, breaking the silence. His voice carried a mix of confusion and frustration.

Seonghwa shrugged without looking up from his papers. “He’s always had a knack for being secretive. But in this situation, it doesn’t seem quite sensible.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Wooyoung almost yelled, sitting up abruptly. Seonghwa glanced at him, surprised by his outburst. “Oops. But yeah, it’s not like he has to share every detail with us, but why wouldn’t he, you know?”

“I’m as lost as you are,” Seonghwa replied with a sigh, flipping to the next page of his paperwork. “Maybe he’ll come around eventually. For now, we should just be glad he’s got it back. You know how much it means to him.”

Wooyoung nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, I do. It means as much to him as a worn-out bunny plush means to a child in a horror movie.”

Seonghwa chuckled at the comparison. “Nice observation.”

“You think he’s gonna magically appear anytime soon now?” Wooyoung asked suddenly, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous spark. “He always seems to show up exactly when we’re talking about him.”

“You think he’ll show up if you say his name three times?” Seonghwa asked, playing along with Wooyoung’s musings.

“What, like Bloody Mary?”

“I was leaning towards Beetlejuice, but that fits too,” Seonghwa responded with a contemplative look.

Wooyoung grinned. “Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetle—”

At that exact moment, the door to Seonghwa’s office swung open, and Hongjoong walked in. “Speak of the devil,” Seonghwa said, unable to hide his amusement as he looked at Wooyoung, who appeared mortified.

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow, clearly aware of their conversation. “Talking about me again?”

Wooyoung tried to play it cool. “Oh, I was actually summoning you right before you came in.”

Hongjoong gave him a deadpan expression. “I heard you chanting Beetlejuice’s name three times before entering.”

Feigning innocence, Wooyoung shrugged. “Pure coincidence.”

Hongjoong rolled his eyes and brushed him off, turning his attention to Seonghwa. “Anyway, we need to discuss the plans for Fashion Week now that the sketchbook is back. Can we go over the details?”

Seonghwa nodded, clearing his desk to make space for the discussion. He pulled out a large binder filled with notes, sketches, and timelines. “Of course. We have a lot to cover.”

Hongjoong settled into the chair across from Seonghwa, pulling out his own notes. “I’ve been thinking about our initial concept for the collection. Now that we have the sketches back, I want to make sure we stay true to the original vision.”

Seonghwa flipped through the binder, stopping at a section filled with sketches and fabric swatches. “I agree. The original vision was strong, but we need to ensure every piece aligns perfectly with it. Let’s start with the color palette.”

Hongjoong nodded, leaning forward. “I’m thinking we stick with the bold, contrasting colors. It’s a statement collection, and the colors need to reflect that. The deep reds, midnight blues, and metallic accents should remain as the primary focus.”

Seonghwa made notes as Hongjoong spoke, occasionally nodding in agreement. “And the fabrics? Are we still going with the mix of leather and silk?”

“We are,” Hongjoong confirmed. “The juxtaposition of the tough and the delicate is what gives the collection its edge. The leather jackets with silk linings, the silk dresses with leather accents—it all needs to be cohesive.”

Wooyoung, now sitting up properly, watched the discussion unfold with interest. “What about the accessories? Are we doing anything special with those?”

Hongjoong glanced at Wooyoung, then back at Seonghwa. “I was thinking about incorporating some custom jewelry pieces. Something that complements the outfits but stands out on its own. Maybe some statement necklaces and rings?”

Seonghwa jotted down the ideas, flipping to another page in the binder. “And the runway show? Do we have a clear vision for the presentation?”

“Yes,” Hongjoong said firmly. "The runway needs to reflect the collection’s theme. I’m envisioning a stark, industrial setting with dramatic lighting. The music should be intense, something that amplifies the mood we’re going for.”

Seonghwa nodded, his pen moving quickly across the paper. “Sounds perfect. We’ll need to coordinate with the production team to make sure everything aligns.”

Wooyoung, still lounging on the couch, suddenly broke the silence with a thoughtful question. “Would you ever tell us about how you got your sketchbook back someday? Like, you know, maybe after Fashion Week?”

Seonghwa, leaning back in his chair and stretching, hummed in agreement. “While I’m not usually one to pry, I have to admit I’m a little curious about that as well.”

Hongjoong simply smiled, leaning back in his seat. “It’s up to the answer if it wants to come forward. If not, I’m afraid all you can do is accept things as they are.”

Wooyoung frowned, clearly unsatisfied with the cryptic response. “Why are you always so mysterious whenever there’s something you don’t want to tell us about? You sound like a riddler.”

Hongjoong laughed, the sound echoing warmly in the room. “Maybe I am,” he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. He then shifted the conversation, clearly intent on steering it away from the sketchbook’s return. “Anyway, how did the recent photoshoot at that old Parisian venue go? I couldn’t stick around long because of work.”

Wooyoung’s expression brightened at the change of topic. “Oh, it went really well! She was fantastic. She had this natural ease in front of the camera that made everything flow smoothly. The venue was perfect too, with its rustic charm and vintage vibes. It really brought out the best in the shoot.”

Seonghwa nodded, visibly pleased with the feedback. “I’ve seen some of the raw shots. They’re set to be uploaded on our social media platforms tomorrow. Are the chosen photos finalized?”

Wooyoung leaned back, crossing his arms with a satisfied grin. “Yes, they are. I sent the file to you last night, actually. I left it up to her to choose which ones she wanted to be uploaded and which ones she didn’t. She has a good eye for these things.”

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “That’s a lot of trust to put in her.”

Wooyoung shrugged. “She chose the best shots—she knows her stuff, that’s for sure. Plus, she’s the one in the photos. It only makes sense for her to have a say in how she’s presented.”

Seonghwa agreed, his fingers tapping thoughtfully on his desk. “I think it’s a good call. It’s important that she feels comfortable with what’s being shared. It builds trust and respect, which is essential in this industry.”

Hongjoong nodded, appreciating their insights. “I’m glad to hear it went well. It’s good to know we’re on the right track.”

Wooyoung’s grin widened. “I agree. And I have to say, she really brought her A-game. I think the location also played a huge role. There’s something about that old Parisian charm that adds a layer of authenticity and nostalgia to the photos. It’s like we’re capturing a piece of history.”

Hongjoong leaned forward, his interest piqued. “I’d love to see the final selections. Can we go through them now?”

Seonghwa reached for his laptop, quickly pulling up the folder with the chosen photos. He positioned the screen so all three of them could see. “Here are the ones she decided on.”

They spent the next few minutes reviewing each photo, discussing the angles, the lighting, and the overall composition.

“This one,” Hongjoong pointed to a shot where you were caught in a candid moment of laughter. “It feels so genuine and warm. It’s the kind of photo that draws people in.”

Wooyoung nodded. “That’s exactly why she chose it. It’s authentic. It shows her personality in a way that’s relatable and endearing.”

Seonghwa scrolled to another photo, this one a more posed shot with you looking pensively out of a window. “And this one has a different kind of impact. It’s introspective and thoughtful. It adds depth to the collection.”

Hongjoong agreed, his eyes lingering on the image. “It’s a good balance. We need both the candid and the posed shots to tell a complete story.”

Wooyoung chimed in, “She really knows how to work the camera. Even in the posed shots, there’s this natural grace about her that just comes through.”

Hongjoong added, “The lighting in this one is perfect. It highlights her features without being too harsh. It’s soft, yet striking. And the backdrop of the Parisian venue really adds a timeless quality to the photos. It’s like we’re capturing a moment in time, a blend of the past and present.”

Wooyoung leaned back on the couch, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “You know, while I think the backdrop and the angles definitely helped, I believe it was her visuals that completed the whole thing. There’s just something about the way she carries herself.”

Seonghwa nodded, glancing at the photos on the laptop screen. “I agree. Even when I first saw her on the other side of the road, she looked like she was part of some sort of painting. There’s an almost ethereal quality to her presence.”

Hongjoong, who had been lost in thought, found himself contemplating the same thing. There was something about you, not just your looks but your overall vibe, that felt different to him. It wasn’t just your physical appearance; it was the way you composed yourself, the quiet confidence you exude. It was as if you were in a world of your own, and yet fully present in the moment. He couldn’t quite place it, but it intrigued him deeply.

Snapping his fingers in front of Hongjoong’s face, Wooyoung dragged him out of his reverie. “Hey, earth to Hongjoong. You okay?”

Hongjoong blinked, realizing he had been staring off into space. “Sorry, I was lost in thought. Were you saying something?”

Wooyoung chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, I was just saying there’s something about her charisma that sets her apart from every other model I’ve worked with. Don’t you agree? It’s like she has this unique energy that just draws people in.”

Hongjoong nodded slowly, his mind still partially occupied by his earlier thoughts. “Yeah... yeah, I agree. There’s definitely something special about her. It’s not just about looks. It’s more than that.”

Seonghwa leaned back in his chair, his gaze thoughtful. “I think It’s her presence. She has this natural grace and ease that’s rare. It’s like she belongs in front of the camera, but she’s not trying too hard. It’s effortless.”

Wooyoung smiled, his thoughts aligning with Seonghwa’s words. “You get it. It’s like she’s not performing, she’s just being herself. And that authenticity shines through in every shot.”

Hongjoong nodded. “That’s what makes her perfect for our brand. She embodies the kind of genuine beauty and charisma we want to showcase. It’s refreshing to work with someone who doesn’t rely on pretense.” He glanced at the photos once more, feeling a sense of satisfaction and excitement. “We’re lucky to have her on board.”

Seonghwa nodded, closing the laptop. “Agreed. And with Fashion Week coming up, we need all the positive energy we can get. This is a great start.”

Wooyoung stretched, a content smile on his face. “I can’t wait to see the reaction when these photos go live. I have a feeling they’re going to be a hit.”

As the conversation shifted to the finer details of the upcoming Fashion Week, the room buzzed with excitement and determination. They knew they were on the brink of something great, and they were ready to give it their all.

Yet, amidst all the planning and strategizing, Hongjoong couldn’t shake the lingering thoughts of you. There was something about your presence that stayed with him, a quiet, unspoken connection that he couldn’t quite define. He knew there was more to you than met the eye, and he found himself eager to discover what that was.

🪞 — lividstar.

#౨ৎ﹒ノ﹒lividstar．#hongjoong #kim hongjoong x reader #hongjoong fluff #kim hongjoong #hongjoong angst #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez x reader #hongjoong x reader #park seonghwa #jung wooyoung

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burninface · 2 months

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☕Weekly Tag Wednesday☕

Thank you Ice @spookygingerr and Myn @vintagelacerosette for tagging me<3

name: face

do you drink coffee? if so, what’s your coffee order? yes, every day. mostly I make sugarfree latte for myself, sometimes with coconut milk. I also love yuenyeung (coffee with black tea and evaporated milk) and mocha a lot!

what’s the best thing you ate today? after seeing evie's answer I got myself some rum flavored ice cream and this is it

tell us about your first pet (or if you haven’t had a pet yet, what’s your dream pet?) a white rabbit named 小红(little red). I was like 5~6 at the time and read from a book that animals need to hibernate in winter, then I was worried about she didn't have enough food to hibernate. so I decided to bring her a lot of vegetables to store for the winter. she died that night, from overfeeding. I was so sad and felt so guilty. from then on I didn't believe myself with pets anymore.

if your life was a book, what would you call the current chapter? sorry, I won't say sorry ever again

what’s something you did recently that you’re proud of? I overcame my fear of peering eyes and did outdoor sketching once!

what was your first dream job growing up? is it anything like the job you have now? writer. and no😬

what’s the name of the latest playlist you made? 『要命的事回头再说』 for my friend, and the name's from her bio. it's really hard to translate this name…… maybe "nothing is must-to-do (everything can be put off)"

and I'm tagging:

@lingy910y @deedala @atthedugouts @michellemisfit @creepkinginc @mmmichyyy @transsexual-dandelions @transmurderbug @gallapiech (u don't see me tag somebody else before this is… I didn't edited!😗) @doshiart @callivich @mickeym4ndy @jademickian @sgtmickeyslaughter

hey there👋! hope yall are doing well!

#tag game

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castleaudios · 1 year

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Songs and the lines that remind me of the couples-

Paw Patrol (You know who): Dial Drunk by Noah Kahan

“I don’t like that when they threw me in the car I gave your name as my emergency phone call, honey it rang and rang…”

Neurodivergent Nerds (Library Trio): Fast Car by Tracy Chapman

“And your arm it felt nice wrapped ‘round my shoulder, and I-, I had a feeling that I belonged. I- I had a feeling I could be someone…”

Idiots to Lovers (Beth and Seer): Love Like Ghosts

“Yes, I know love is like ghosts. Oh, and the moonlight, baby, shows you what’s real. There ain’t language for the things I feel.”

Fairy Tale (Evie and Knight): Hey Lover by The Daughters of Eve

“Hey, hey, hey, lover. You don't have to be a star …. I love you just the way you are”

Borderline Bar Fight (Sugar and Miss Liza): Peach Fuzz by Caamp

“No need to complicate it, I had, fallen in love, with you so underrated. Something fillin’ up my lungs. Every color of your love, I’ve seen enough, I want another.”

The Waterworks™️ (Chloe and Dewdrop): Strawberry Sunscreen by Lostboycrow

“Taste the strawberry sunscreen, laughing at songs from the 90s, don’t really care if it rains or shines”

- I hope you have a good day and (maybe you have a few new songs to listen to) :] <3

Gotta start setting up a Glenwood Playlist, these are all so good!

#castlereplies #echovale052

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auxiliarydetective · 7 months

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We've done it!

Or, more accurately, you've done it! Thanks to you, my fellow Tumblrinas, I've actually managed to hit 200 followers!

I never thought I would get this far, but I'm eternally grateful for all the love you've given me, and I can't wait to share many more brainrots with you!

In tune with that, I've decided: Why not let you look even further into my mind? I've given you lots of writing, but why not provide some visuals? And so, in thinking about what I wanted to do for my 200 followers celebration, I came up with...

⁕ Evie's Mind Palace Festival! ⁕

(Placing a cut so this doesn't get too long ^^)

As depicted in this lovely graphic above, I'm going to be focusing on my OCs' fashion for this little event. But not just that! I'll get to the bonuses later :)

For now, text version! Because Tumblr likes not loading images and some people may not be able to view the image

↬ Step 1: Pick an OC of your choice! From my OCs, that is. Hope that was clear. Anyone from the list. I'll even throw in a little bonus and say that unintroduced OCs are allowed! That means the ones on this list AND ones I may have rambled to to you in a chat we've had.

↬ Step 2: Pick an occasion prompt! The prompts are as follows:

Casual (aka everyday wear, aka their basic character design or an alternate outfit or it)

Formal

Training/Athletic

Battle (this may overlap with either 1. or 3. for some characters, but let's assume they actually get geared up for battle)

Hot weather (your typical summer clothes)

Cold weather (sweaters, winter coats, you name it)

Swimwear

Canon event (may overlap with some other categories, but I made this a separate thing for the lore opportunities it provides) - Make sure to specify what canon event you want!

Stealing clothes - You can include who the character should steal from in your ask, otherwise I will pick the victim myself.

Holiday-themed - Pick your holiday! Any holiday counts.

Fandombend - Pick your fandom! (This will probably come with some headcanons on what the OC would be like in the new fandom)

Inspired by a song - Please, pick a song! Preferably from the OC's playlist. I should have a playlist for almost every OC. Hop into the "#playlist" tag on my blog to find them and, if they're not posted over there anywhere, tap on any playlist that's there, let it take you to my Spotify profile, and hop into the "Character Playlists" folder!

↬ Step 3: If you want, pick an extra prompt! Your options are:

Historical - Please specify your time frame! You don't necessarily have to, but I tend to be an indecisive little gremlin, so it would make things a little easier if you could pick ^^"

Fantasy (This, of course, makes little sense if the OC is already in a fantasy setting)

Sci-fi (Once again, this makes little sense if the OC is already in a sci-fi setting)

Steampunk

Cultural - Please pick a culture for me to take inspiration from! It doesn't have to be a real-life culture. For example, you could pick Japan for some kimono art or you could pick the Kuja from One Piece!

Color prompt - Pick your color! I ask that you do keep it at one color so that I have some more freedom, and I won't take specific hex codes either because those specific hex codes might clash with the OC's color palette

Prompt of your choice - This can be literally anything! Yes, also an occasion, in which case it would replace your original occasion prompt. I just didn't have the space to add in all occasions known to man, so if you have another idea, this is where to put it.

↬ Step 4: Send your ask! Done!

Once you've sent your ask, please keep in mind that it might take me a while to answer it. I'll then make a collage/moodboard and get the ask posted. Maybe, I'll also draw your prompt, depending on if I have the energy and/or time for it. If I plan on doing that, I'll let you know in the post and tag you once I have the drawing finished! I may also be swayed into adding a little fic snippet to the answer, if I do feel so inclined. Maybe a song to match the vibes? It'll be a little surprise!

► Rules:

Be nice! It's not hard, and it's basically all I ask.

This is the one time you might not want to shower me in asks because these asks might take a bit to answer. I'm not putting a cap on how many asks per person you're allowed to send, just maybe be mindful of how long they take to answer and space them out over the time of the event.

I'll be accepting asks from the time that this is posted until March 17th. The event ends with the strike of midnight starting the next day. Whenever that may be in your time zone. As long as it's still 23:59 on March 17th somewhere around the world, send in your ask. I might also extend the event if asks keep coming in and I have the energy to keep going.

↬ Additional info for mutuals: You get to ask for crossovers! Just pick one of my OCs and one of yours and I'll try my best to draw them. I might bother you for references though, so be prepared! It doesn't matter how long we've been mutuals for! It could've been five minutes, you're still allowed to send in crossover asks. As long as we're mutuals, let's say, at the time that the ask is answered, it's all good. In practice, that means that you just need to be following me to be able to send in a crossover request. If you ask nicely and maybe say something about why you'd think why our two children would go well together and we share a fandom, it's very unlikely that I'll deny your request and won't follow you back.

Also, if you've ever wanted to say something about my OCs and/or me and my blog, this might be the perfect time for you to do it.

Okay, that's it for now! Love you, everyone! Here's to more fandom-y shenanigans!

Also, behold my new non-OC post divider! It features a lineart sketch of my blog icon in the middle! The icon was designed by @benevolenterrancy pretty much exactly two years ago when they realized my old icon was not, in fact, a unicorn. I still go full-on heart-eyes mode whenever I see my icon, so I figured it was time to remind everyone of the amazing artist that created it <3

Taglist: @starcrossedjedis @oneirataxia-girl @daughter-of-melpomene @fluffle-system @wheresmybloodynauglamir @supermarine-silvally @nanukanal @cody-helix02 (I believe this is the first time I've ever used my full taglist, aka the basic taglist plus everyone from fandom-specific taglists - wowie!) - Let me know if you'd like to be added or removed, for specific fandoms or the general list!

#evie's events #evie's mind palace festival

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fazkins · 11 months

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IMPORTANT

RULES

no proshippers, period. I don't care if what you're requesting isn't proship, if you are a proshipper then please leave. this blog isn't a "safe space" for you.

we are double friendly. each person is allowed, of course, to be uncomfortable with doubles, but calling a double "fake" is unnecessary

no requests will be fulfilled if you're like a.. zoo, racist, map/aam, stuff like that. just please be a decent, normal human if you come here

i will edit to add more as i see necessary, but for now, this is probably fine <3

WHAT WE WILL/WON'T DO

we WILL do:

name/pronoun suggestions

moodboards/stimboards

art/animation requests (mostly fulfilled by evi)

playlists

writing prompts

timeline questions/discussion

kincalls/canoncalls

self-care kits

honestly just most kin related stuff.. anything you can think of we're willing to give it a try!

non-fnaf related things! willing to try all medias ^^

media we're familiar with

(but we will still do media we're unfamiliar with! /gen)

what we WONT do:

anything in support of proship or any sort of bigotry

anything meant to engage in hate speech or to belittle anyone else

anything meant to engage in "syscourse" or anything similar of any matter to any degree

shipping of any child-characters in fnaf + other media (the two younger afton siblings, the missing children, charlie, etc)

will also edit later on to include more if necessary!!

ANON LIST

📼👁️ anon, 🔴🐼🕹 anon, 💜🐰💛 anon, 🔑 anon, 💄🌠 anon, 🎸🕹️anon, 🔧💜 anon, 🔪🌈 anon, 💥⚙️ anon, arr anon, mwk anon, monstermangle anon, 🌠🌌🔮 anon, Dx. Douxie, 🍊🏹 anon

soos's intro post

evi's intro post

fizz's intro post

-🧸💤

#important #not kin related #pinned #fnaf kin #fnaf kins #kin stuff #kin request #kin blog #kin help #kin care #fictionkin

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jeysbvck · 1 year

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15 questions, 15 mutuals!!

tagged by the lovely @rollinsland!! thank you!!☺️

1. are you named after anyone? - nope!!

2. when was the last time you cried? - um, the other day, i think.

3. do you have kids? - nope.

4. what sports do you play/have played? i played a bit of football (⚽️) growing up, but never on a team or anything. i was also one of the fastest runners in my school, but medical issues stopped me from continuing!!

5. do you use sarcasm? all the time basically.

6. what's the first thing you notice about people? um, eyes probably?

7. what's your eye colour? brown.

8. scary movies or happy endings? im a baby, so happy endings!!

9. any talents? talk to me about any of my hyperfixations (wwe, buddie, taylor swift) and i'll talk ur ear off. i used to think i was talented at writing, but i haven't felt like since probably last year :')))

10. where were you born? london.

11. what are your hobbies? writing, binging tv shows, watching (and talking about, writing about) wwe, playing video games, making playlists for my blorbos.

12. do you have any pets? a dog called jake & a cat called evie <33

13. how tall are you? 5"8

14. favourite subject in school? english.

15. dream job? honestly, i have no idea.

no pressure tags; @shadesofdeviant @maplefire18 @zelink-stan02

#tag game #shan shouts into the void

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offside-the-lines · 9 months

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tell me who i run to (if not you) | anthony beauvillier | Ep 3. Pal-entine's Day

This is a completed series! Read Full Fic | 🧸 Series Cover Page/Masterlist 🧁 | 🎵 Playlist 🎶 << Previous Episode || Ep 3 || Next Epissode>>

Episode synopsis:Tito returns her kindness by being a shoulder Evie can lean on when she is having a hard time after all-star break. She tells him it’s anxiety about work. He brings her a box of pastries and they cuddle on the couch all day; he doesn’t realize it’s Valentine’s Day. Later, a hook-up goes very wrong.

A/N: You can refer to cover page for the series summary, author's notes, tropes, general warnings and other fun tidbits. This series contains mature themes. Minors DNI. Warnings: This episode contains mentions of a past toxic relationship and sex that occurs off screen. Disclaimer: This series is set in Chicago but does not mention the name of the team.

Word count: 4.8k // 44.5k

Requests (open) | Masterlist & Who I Write For | Join My Taglistist

Pal-entine’s Day

Evie — February 10

It’s late when Evie finishes work for the day. She rubs her eyes and finishes her cup of tea, which is now less than lukewarm. She sighs. This was kind of her own doing. She didn’t work as much as she should’ve in January, especially in the week that Tito stayed over, which means she’s feeling more behind than she would like them to be. Not to mention, this latest work she was editing was full of so many glaring issues that the document has more comments than text at this point.

She puts her phone down and rests her head on the table.

She doesn’t regret it. Tito had been clearly so down in the dumps after his wrist injury. She had taken him to the different museums, touristy sights, and fun restaurants around town that she had been meaning to get to; she had thought that she would catch up on her work when he was in Florida with his brother’s family during Bye Week.

She doesn’t regret it because their adventures brightened his mood every time, his glowing smile seared on the inside of her eyelids. She thinks about the time she had taken him to the Skating Ribbon in Maggie Daley Park on a particularly bad day.

He had come back from the rink dejected after being told he couldn’t join no-contact practice yet. He had been cleared to skate, though. So, the joy on his face when he stepped onto the ice again, even if it was a park and not an NHL arena, made them both feel a hundred pounds lighter.

She doesn’t regret it. It’s just that— Unfortunately, her plan to catch up on work during Bye Week didn't happen. The day after Tito left for Florida, her apartment felt startlingly empty.

It reminded her of when she had first moved to Chicago. She had just a couple of boxes and suitcases. She left behind all the remnants of her life with Pierre. Those plates, pillows, and knickknacks didn’t feel like they belonged in her life anymore. That’s why she moved, right? To get a clean start at age 28.

It wasn’t just stuff she had left behind. It was her whole life, a life that had looked increasingly foreign in those final months anyway. All of their friends, all of their stuff, all of their memories. He could keep them. She just wanted out.

Those first months in Chicago had felt so lonely, living without anyone else for the first time ever. It was hard to make friends in a new city, so she spent a lot of time just in her apartment. The thought kept creeping into her head that she would probably be alone forever and regret leaving her seemingly perfect relationship behind in Toronto.

She downloaded and deleted Bumble probably ten times in the first few months.

Eventually, she met Kelsey, Leanne, and the others at a work-sponsored holiday party. They were unhappy that she hadn’t reached out sooner. So, with them dragging her out of her house a few times a week to whatever restaurant, bar, or event, she eventually settled into life in Chicago. Looking back, she’s not quite sure when her one-bedroom apartment started to feel like home.

That's why she’s so shocked to find herself once again feeling unsettled. Her sleep hasn’t been great either, making her sluggish and heavy. In the week or so since Tito left for Florida, she has only left her house twice. Both of them were to see him play when he returned to the lineup after the All-Star break.

When she looks around her apartment, she can see the small pile of his clothes that sits at the far end of the couch. She had washed them while he was away and folded them so they would be clean when he came back.

That was a week ago.

She’s happy that he’s back at training and back in the line-up. She appreciates the rigorous schedule that he's sticking to to get back to the top of his game.

She understands that means she takes a back seat. It’s just that she wishes a little part of her didn’t resent it or herself for missing his company that she didn’t know she had gotten so used to.

She doesn’t pester him, though, not when he was on vacation and not now that he’s been back training. He still texts her every day, and she tries not to get too excited when he does, being mindful to not be too suffocating and demanding of his time and attention.

She figures it’s probably not a bad idea to realign her priorities: to focus on her work and on the book that she wants to finally finish soon.

Tito — February 14

Tito watches as the sky begins to lighten and decides to just give up on going back to sleep. He reaches over and checks his phone.

5:48 am.

Great.

He unlocks his phone, which opens to the text thread with Evie he had been staring at after the game last night.

Monday, 4:46 pm evie 🧁: sorry, i don’t think i’ll be coming to the game tomorrow. i’m just totally under water with work right now. To evie 🧁: damn, that sucks. i’m sorry. do you want me to come over with some dinner tonight? To evie 🧁: or after the game tomorrow?

He didn’t receive a reply until past midnight that night.

Yesterday, 1:18 am evie 🧁: nah, it’s okay To evie 🧁: good morning to you too. how're you doing? work hasn’t killed you right? i can bring over some lunch. i bet you havent been eating much. Read

He quickly swipes out of his messages and locks his phone again.

He stares out the window. They have only known each other for less than two months, but not hearing from Evie for so long throws him off-kilter.

This is so unusual, given their typical rhythm, that even if work has been busy, he’s worried, and underneath the worry, he’s confused. It seemed unlike Evie to not be open with him about whatever was bothering her— at least, he thought she was.

A little while later, he finds himself sitting in front of her favorite bakery on his way to her apartment. He waits for the clock to hit 9 a.m. before he heads in and picks up breakfast for them both: a selection of pastries and two coffees. It’s busier than he expects, but there are still plenty of their favorites left.

He’s been to Evie’s building enough times now that the doorman recognizes him and buzzes him up the elevator straight away with a nod. It’s only when he's standing outside her door that he realizes he should've probably texted beforehand to make sure she was free.

Too late now. Tito rings her doorbell, his heart in his throat as he listens for any sound inside.

Somewhere between 30 seconds and 10 minutes later, he hears some shuffling, and the door opens slowly. Standing in the entryway is Evie rubbing her eyes with the sleeve of his Canucks hoodie, sleep shorts barely peaking out under the hem. He rips his eyes away from the soft skin of her legs.

She startles when she sees him, her eyes wide. Her messy hair and fuzzy slippers only intensify the warm fondness buzzing in his chest.

“Um, hi,” she says, stepping aside to wave him in. “What’s all this?”

“Nice hoodie,” he beams at her, a crooked smile tugging on the corner of his lips.

“What?” She looks down and immediately covers her face with her hands. “Oh shit, this is yours. I was just grabbing the first hoodie I saw, and it was sitting on my— I’m sorry, do you want it back? I can go change.”

“Hey,” he says gently, setting the food down on the kitchen counter. “No, keep it on. I can’t really wear it out anymore, and it looks good on you.”

She cracks a smile for the first time this morning.

“Here, I brought you some breakfast and coffee— peppermint mocha, half sweet, with oat milk. I figured you might need something stronger with all the late nights you’ve been working.”

She stares at him silently for a long time before reaching for the coffee and whispering a quiet, “Thanks.”

He smiles at her and pulls her in for a quick hug, feeling some of the tightness in his chest melt away as he breathes in her scent. As he pulls back, he waves her to the couch.

“Go, sit.” He pushes her gently. “I’ll bring over the food.”

As if on cue, her stomach grumbles. “What did you get? Oh! Oooh! Good Ambler. My favorite,” she says excitedly, finally looking more like herself.

He smiles to himself as he puts the food down on the coffee table. “Yeah, I know! I got us the quiche and a bunch of their pastries.” He opens the box and watches as her eyes light up.

She laughs, “Wow, you really went all out.”

“I guess I did,” he shrugs.

They eat in a comfortable silence for a while, both deep in thought. It’s been a few days since Tito has set foot in her apartment. He feels more at home here than in his own place. There are touches of Evie everywhere.

She has shelves next to the TV console that are covered in books. There are at least five more books spread around the room. Her fuzzy blanket is draped across the back of the couch. There are candles on her coffee table, sitting next to colorful coasters with bad book puns on them. Unhung art and posters are leaning against the bottom of the walls. The space is so clearly lived in and loved.

Although, as he looks around, he can see the signs that things might be a bit off. There are dirty dishes piled up in the sink when there usually wouldn’t be any. There are stacks of papers spread across various surfaces. A box next to the bin for the overflowing trash. He counts at least seven mugs of mostly drunk tea around the space.

He frowns.

“So,” he starts cautiously, “how've you been?” He winces at how awkward that sounds.

“Oh, you know. Same old, same old. Busy? I guess mainly.” She stares at the muffin in her hands, pointedly avoiding his skeptical expression.

He sighs and reaches over, his broad hand lightly covering her wrist. “Hey, I feel like something has been off recently, and I want to know what’s going on. Is it just work that’s been crazy? Or is there something else?”

Evie looks up at him finally; their eyes meet, both assessing the other. He can see the dark circles that dull her tired eyes, her expression pained.

“Yeah, I’ve just been having trouble getting stuff done. But it’s not a big deal. It’s fine, though. I can handle it.” She frowns and picks at the remaining half of the muffin.

“Hey,” Tito says gently. He reaches out, takes the muffin, and puts it down before taking her hands in his. The movement makes them turn to each other. “It’s okay if you’re struggling. Just tell me how I can help. I won’t judge you, okay?”

She shakes her head, tugging her hands back and hugging them to her body. “Yeah, I know, but I’m okay. I don’t want to be a pain—”

“Evie,” he says gently, “Asking for help doesn’t make you a pain. Look, we’re friends, right? You were there for me last month when I was having a really bad time. And now I want to be here for you. You should let me help where I can. Or at least tell me what’s wrong. I can’t guarantee I’ll always say or do the right thing, but I’ll listen, and I’ll try to help where I can, okay?”

She looks at him, searching his face for a lie and not finding one in his open and caring expression. “Okay,” she whispers with a small smile.

“Okay.”

He hands her back her muffin, and they finish up their breakfast. He takes their trash to the kitchen, and despite her complaints, he does the dishes as he makes them both a cup of tea.

When he sits back down on the couch, he finally speaks again, “So, are you going to tell me what’s wrong? Or at least, if there’s anything I can do to help?”

She heaves a big sigh but does smile at him warmly before settling into the couch. “I guess I just had a kinda bad week last week? I'm kinda behind on stuff, and I got really in my head about it. Remember how I told you I moved here after a bad breakup? Well…” She shrugs.

“You don’t need to explain if you don’t want to. I know it sucks. I mean, I haven’t dated anyone seriously since before the pandemic. But we actually broke up like January 2020, so those first few months in lockdown were really rough. Just bad feelings and a whole lot of time.”

She looks up at him, “Oh. I had no idea.”

“It’s not a big deal. That was quite a few years ago at this point, anyway. I’m over it now, but— I’m just saying that I know it can be hard.”

“Yeah,” she nods, fiddling with her mug before finally saying, “Honestly, I’m not that bummed about the breakup. It wasn’t bad or anything. Or at least nothing bad happened. Things just sort of just… I don’t know. I was just feeling like shit all the time.

“By the time I left, I had already been mentally checked out for a while, so I wasn’t really sad at all anymore. It was mainly hard because our lives were so entwined.

“We had gone to grad school together, and we were working at the same company. We had all the same friends, and everyone loved him, you know? So, it was hard to leave that behind.”

He reaches out and squeezes her knee, encouraging her to keep talking.

“It’s just… I hate it, feeling like I’m falling behind.”

“Like on work?”

She nods weakly.

“Well, if it’s anything I’ve had to learn in my career, you’re more than your productivity. You don’t need to be perfectly productive all the time to be contributing something.”

“Yeah… it’s just that—” Evie sighs.

“What?”

She swallows heavily and looks out the window. “It’s just that… I hate feeling behind at work because it makes me feel like I’m behind on my career. And that’s really all I have right now. After— Like, I’m 28 years old, and what do I have to show for it.”

He studies her face and squeezes her knee again, drawing her gaze back to him. “Who told you that?”

“What?”

“Who told you that you’re behind on life?”

“Well… Pierre? I guess. My ex. He used to talk about success milestones—”

“Success what?” he interrupts.

She powers on. “Just, like, things I should accomplish by a certain age. And when I left, you know? I set back my life? Single again. Starting over. And when I left, Pierre kinda pointed that out. And all I have left is my career— a struggling career.”

“Okay, honestly?” He says, fuming, “Fuck Pierre. Like, what the fuck is that?”

“No,” she shakes her head, chewing on her bottom lip, “No. I don’t— He’s right.”

“He isn't right.” He's sitting up now, fully facing her. “He's not— Firstly, your career isn't struggling. You have a job you enjoy, and from everything I’ve heard from Kelsey and Leanne, you’re fucking good at it. You’re making progress with finishing your book every week, which is awesome. I see you working your ass off all the time. And on top of all that, you're a great fucking friend. And a great fucking person.”

He shakes his head and sighs loudly. “Evie, you don’t have to complete some stupid made-up checklist to be successful. Only you get to decide what counts as success in your life. That's the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard. Honestly, Evie, I'm saying this as your friend, fuck Pierre for making you feel lesser and smaller with this bullshit.”

She looks at him, her face betraying her surprise at his outburst. His cheeks are warm and probably a little flushed, but he doesn’t care. He can feel the anger in his veins, opening and closing his fists to dispel some of the energy.

“I guess?” she says finally. “Pierre’s really not a bad guy. He’s a good person. We just— He just wasn’t a good fit for me.”

“Okay,” he concedes, silently disagreeing with her assessment.

“Thanks, though. For saying that. It means a lot.” She reaches out and squeezes his clenched fists. “Thank you. I'm okay, really. Overall, in the grand scheme of things, anyway. I’m sorry I didn’t come to your game yesterday.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to come to every game. It’s just an offer.” He smiles softly. “I mean, I’d love to have you there, obviously, but I’ll understand if you don't.”

“Okay,” she smiles back.

“So, do you think you can take today off? I think you might be a little burnt out.”

She sighs and looks at her phone, the emails trickling in. She knows she has the time; she always makes herself finish far earlier than whatever deadline her director gives her. She fires off a quick message to the group, telling them she’s taking a mental health day, before putting her phone face down on the coffee table.

“Yeah,” she smiles, “I can take today off.”

“Good,” he beams. He puts his arm around Evie’s waist and pulls her into his side. He reaches for the remote. “That’s good because I haven’t seen any Brooklyn Nine-Nine in like two weeks, and I know the next episode is a Halloween heist episode, and it’s been killing me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, dummy. That’s our show. I can’t watch it without you.”

She laughs, “Okay.”

He puts on the show, smiling as it plays the cold open. He turns to her and tugs her in closer.

“Hey, Evie?”

“Yeah?”

“Please just tell me what’s bothering you next time, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. I will. I promise.” She smiles up at him from his side, and he feels his chest tighten.

A few episodes later, they've slid down on the couch so that she’s almost lying on top of him. He looks down at her head on his chest to see her sound asleep. He pauses the show and pulls out his phone.

To jason dickinson: yo, do you have any more restaurant recs? evie’s been having a rough week, i’m thinking maybe taking her out for dinner today might cheer her up jason dickinson: eyyyyyyy get it!!!!!! To jason dickinson: ????? get what??? jason dickinson: uh? is this a trick question? To jason dickinson: no? jason dickinson: a date? laid? idk To jason dickinson: WHAT?!!!! jason dickinson: you’re asking for a date spot right? To jason dickinson: wtf jason, no. we’ve been through this. we’re just friends. jason dickinson: riiiiiiight. just friends who ask for a date spot on valentine’s day

Tito’s eyes widen as he glances at the calendar app on his phone.

February 14.

Valentine’s Day.

Fuck.

Next to him, Evie stirs, yawning.

“Hey,” she says, her voice muffled, “You paused the show?”

“Yeah, you fell asleep.”

She chuckles. “I guess I did.” She looks up at him and frowns. “What’s up, Tito? You got a weird look on your face.”

“Oh, um. I just realized what day it was.”

“What day is it?” she looks at her phone.

“Yeah, it’s Valentine’s Day.”

“Oh!” she laughs, shaking her head. She pulls away, sitting up, and runs her fingers through her hair. “Okay? Did you have plans? I’m good here if you want to go.”

“What? No? What plans would I have?”

“I don’t know, Anthony. Maybe you’re an international man of mystery,” she laughs, lightly shoving his knee.

“Sure I am,” he says, rolling his eyes, “That’s not what I meant, though.”

“What did you mean then?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you have plans.” She gives him an unimpressed look. “Okay, well, maybe you don’t have plans. But I didn’t get you anything.”

“Do friends get friends Valentine’s Day gifts?”

He sucks in a breath. “I mean, no? I don’t know.”

“You did get me a whole box of pastries. I feel like that’s pretty good. I mean it’s not like I’ve ever celebrated Valentine’s Day before.”

He freezes, brows furrowed.

“What? You never celebrated with Pierre?”

“Nope,” she shakes her head.

“Weren’t you together for like five years?”

“Yep!” she shrugs. “He just wasn’t into that sort of stuff. He thought it was stupid and a waste of money.”

“Come on, what the fuck?” he says, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, we never did anniversaries either. It’s not a big deal.”

“Please tell me he at least did birthdays.”

“I guess. I mean, he always got me birthday and Christmas presents, but usually nothing major. I always planned a dinner and stuff with our group of friends for my birthday.”

He studies her face, his brows furrowed.

She sits up. “What?”

“Seriously?”

She nods.

“I bet he always got you to plan his birthday parties too.” He rolls his eyes and sighs. “I don’t mean to be rude, but like. Fuck Pierre, man.”

She’s quiet for a second before saying softly, “It’s really not a big deal.”

He shakes his head. “I mean, sure, Valentine’s Day is kinda stupid and cheesy. But that’s the point. It doesn’t mean you shouldn’t use it as an excuse to show someone you love them.”

“Wow, Anthony. I didn’t know you were such a romantic,” she grins, bumping his shoulder.

“I’m not. He just sounds like he was being lazy and didn’t really care to try.”

“It’s really not that big of a deal, Tito. Guys're just like that.”

His eyes follow the sad smile she gives him, and he pauses. Her eyes are a little glassy, and her cheeks redder. He knows when to leave something be.

“Guys are absolutely not ‘just like that,’” he says, making air quotes. “But I’ll drop it.”

He lays back down, tugging on her arm. He mutters, “I just think that he should've cared enough to try, like, even a little bit.”

“God, you're such a sap. Imagine your teammates hearing about this.”

“I wouldn't be embarrassed, Evie. Like, at all,” he looks at her flatly.

She rolls her eyes and lays back down against him.

A few minutes later, she speaks up again. “So, you want to hit up some clubs tonight? Things always get hot and heavy on Valentine’s Day. Good night to pick-up.”

“It’s Wednesday, and I’ve got a game tomorrow,” he says, his voice hollow as he forces his eyes to stay on the screen.

“Lame,” she says, a relieved smile on her lips that he doesn't see.

Evie — March 2

When Evie comes to, she’s lying on her bed with her arm covering her eyes, panting. Her body still feels tingly, in the way it does after good, wild sex. It always leaves her a little dizzy and disoriented. She can hear the sound of heavy breathing next to her. She hums, pleased.

Her other outstretched hand is buried in soft hair. She tugs on a curl and smiles. She loves his curly hair. Evie has always had thick, straight hair, a blessing and a curse; it has never felt as soft as curly hair does. Her fingers twirl around the curl, playing with the springy coil.

She thinks maybe Tito will let his hair grow even longer. He looks so good with longer hair that forms actual curls. The way it falls in front of his eyes a bit makes him look so soft. She thinks about how he lays on the couch lazily, his hair splayed out on the cushion, and how his shirt rides up to show the sliver of skin above his low-slung sweats when he gets comfortable.

The urge to ask him if he’s going to cut his hair soon overtakes her exhaustion, and she moves her arm to look over.

“So—” Evie starts before she furrows her brows.

At that moment, she notices that instead of Tito’s baby blues, she's met with a pair of wide-eyed browns. Her entire body freezes as the night slams back into her consciousness.

The dancing, the flirting, the meaningful looks, the cab ride home, the sex. God, the sex was fucking good. Her limbs hum in agreement as her chest tightens.

Well, these eyes gaze at her lazily, warm and soft. Evie’s hand is still in her curly mess of hair. The first thing she thinks is that it's actually longer than Tito’s hair is now before she immediately banishes his name from her mind completely.

Evie can’t seem to relax her body enough to free her voice, which is caught in her throat.

Shit, what is her name?

Natalie? Natalia? Natasha? Nat for sure—

“Don’t worry,” Nat states, smirking, “I’m not staying. Just trying to catch my breath before leaving.”

Evie can’t help but feel unsettled and disoriented, but she forces her mind to quieten. Nat is really hot, and they did have a really good night. Slowly, Evie puts a coy smile back on her face and blinks slowly at her.

“You don’t have to leave? If you don’t want to. I didn’t mean to kick you out.”

Evie has absolutely no idea why she just said that. She has never asked a hook-up if they want to stay. It must show on her face because Nat laughs. She shakes her head and presses another heated kiss to Evie’s lips, reminding her why she feels like she’s still floating outside of her body.

“I’ll get going.” Nat shakes her head and stands up, looking for her clothes in the mess on the floor. Evie probably should've cleaned up a little before going out.

She leans up on her elbows and lets her eyes trail down Nat’s body. Her mind finally focuses, and she whistles. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay?”

Nat laughs.

“Yes, baby girl. I’ve got to go to work tomorrow. This was very good, though,” Nat says while putting on her clothes. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to ask for your number or when we’ll see each other again. So you don’t need to give me the spiel. I knew— know what this was.”

Evie laughs at the exaggerated wink Nat gives her. She feels a little lighter with relief at that.

“Can I use your bathroom, though? Before I go.”

“Yeah, it’s right through there.”

“Thanks.” Nat sends her a warm smile before slipping into the bathroom.

Evie lays back down and rubs her eyes. That was fucking weird, what the—

Her bathroom door flies open.

“What the fuck?” Natalie says, holding up Tito’s bread trimmer.

“What?”

“Do you have a boyfriend or something? Did you just fucking use me to cheat on someone?”

“No?” Evie sits up, confused.

“Don’t fucking lie to me. I was willing to overlook the men’s shoes and coat in your entryway; maybe they’re a friend’s. I was willing to overlook the sweatshirts and sweatpants strewn around your room. I figured maybe you just like being comfortable.”

“What?” she squeaks through the lump in her throat.

Nat powers through her interruption. “But there’s a fucking beard trimmer in there. Two toothbrushes. Two towels. A curly-defining gel that you definitely don’t use. And the—”

“No, you’re—”

“Are you honestly going to tell me you live here alone? What stupid fucking excuse are you going to give me, huh? This is a one-bedroom apartment, dude. Whoever’s shit this is, he's definitely not your roommate.”

Evie stares at her, stunned, mouth opening and closing.

“God, you know what. Save it. I don’t want to fucking know,” she says before storming out of the bedroom.

Evie hugs her knees in stunned silence, watching from her bed as Nat grabs her coat and shoes. She pleads with her brain for something to say and comes up empty.

Nat throws her one last dirty look, her face twisting in a scowl at her continued silence. “Seriously, fuck you, Gigi.”

The sound of the front door slamming makes Evie jump. She just sits there, staring into empty space for so long that she feels her butt go numb.

She flops back onto her bed, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes.

“What the fuck just happened?” she says to her empty room.

Series Cover Page/Masterlist || Next Episode >>

Requests / Come chat about this with me!!! | Masterlist & Who I Write For & Taglist

#rox writes #tell me who i run to series #anthony beauvillier imagine #hockey imagine #nhl imagines #chicago blackhawks

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lsleofthelost · 3 years

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random rotten four headcanons:

• none of them have any texting etiquette so they routinely leave each other and the gc on read. and they don’t see anything wrong with that

• the only person allowed to have the aux when it’s the four of them is Evie. Both Mal and Jay put their punk/rock songs way too loud aka “how they’re supposed to be listened to, Eves!” and they can’t hear each other

• Carlos is not allowed to have the aux ever because he’s such a wild card with the music that it gives everyone whiplash. they’ll have abrasive hyperpop followed by an acoustic song and not see anything wrong with that

• Evie actually has a specific playlist for when they’re all together. It’s soft music that can be played in the background without being boring (i’m thinking HER, Brent Faiyaz, Frank Ocean, The Marías, etc)

• they have so many hair products in their bathroom. special products for Carlos’s curly hair, all the different shampoos and conditioners and balms that Evie rotates through, shampoos that maintain fairy magical colours for Mal, three different mint shampoos that Jay insists are distinct, so many heat protectors and brushes (Evie has at least 5, and they all serve a purpose)

• skincare is right there too. just tonnes of stuff. worst offender is Evie, of course, who buys a mask/cream/emulsion/literally anything every time she walks into a shop that carries skincare. plus she brews her own stuff. but there are also at least 3 sun screens (Mal, she’s pale as hell and burns really easily), a pound in clay masks (Carlos, he finds it super relaxing+it’s something they can do together) and a lot of scrubs and moisturisers (Jay, he’s out training and playing under the sun all the time, his skin would be like a turtle’s if he didn’t take care of it)

• Evie doesn’t know how to drive. she doesn’t see a point in learning because she can always make one of the three drive her places (it’s usually Jay)

• Carlos loves playing video games together, he’s up for literally anything but when it’s all four of them they usually default to something like Mario Kart

• Soon they remember that Mal can not play competitive ones because Carlos always wins and when she’s like “how tf do u do that u wizard” he just says “you should simply get better idk what to tell you”

• but she loves watching him game. he’ll just be playing some single player on his PC and she’ll come in, lay in bed and watch him play. she genuinely finds it so entertaining

• Jay is really good with detail work, tiny stuff like sequins and such so he always helps Evie out in the studio with that

• he also fucks around with scraps and extra beads and stuff and makes like bracelets or keychains to hang on others’ backpacks/bags

• when Jay has an away game, he leaves post it notes with stupid jokes/pick up lines or just some sweet nothings around the apartment for the others to gradually find

• they have 3 pets: Dude, a chocolate doberman named Asmodeus, or Modee, and Mal’s tarantula Meg, short of Megaera

• when it’s time for any documents or taxes of stuff like that Jay and Mal simply leave the room. they know that they can fuck it up by simply being too close

• Mal is not allowed in the kitchen after the incident where she tried to be romantic and make them breakfast and set the place on fire

• when they first move to their apartment, they get two queen sized beds and just move them together but that resulted in whoever was in the middle sometimes falling and getting stuck in the tiny space between the beds

• eventually, they get an alaskan king and it’s heaven. Evie convinced them to splurge on supper fluffy blankets and pillows and the whole experience is like sleeping in a cloud

#Evie’s playlist is named ‘<3’#they end up having to build new shelves in the bathroom to fit all of their stuff #Asmodeus was in honour of Beelzebub Carlos’s cat #Megaera is in honour of on of the greek furies #mal and jay the accidental tax evaders #i have more but that’s enough for today i think #descendants #descendants headcanons #carlos #maleficent morgana #evie #jahid ibn jafar #rotten four #laila.txt #genevieve grimhilde #carlos oscar de vil #mal #jay

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lesbianspeedy · 2 years

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🎵 + mia dearden herself :)

Send me a ♫ + a character’s name and I will respond with a song that reminds me of them. Send a ♫ + a ship and I will do the same.

i've been trying to stick to 3 songs per person but mia is the one character that i have a playlist for that is ORGANISED into her different eras so this will be hard

Getting Older by Billie Eilish

The Optimist by Evie Irie

Dog Days Are Over by F&TM

#honorable mentions to 07 britney s.l.u.t and live young die free and also like 20 more songs #also honorable mention to any way the wind blows bc mia's playlist is like the only one i've managed to fit a hadestown song in #ask meme #answered #mia dearden

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shardfated · 3 years

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PEOPLE I'D LIKE TO KNOW BETTER

1. ALIAS/NAME: darks 2. BIRTHDAY: January 31 3. ZODIAC SIGN: aquarius 4. HEIGHT: 5'0″ 5. HOBBIES: Needlecrafts ( sewing, embroidery, and crochet), restoring and customizing fashion dolls, and rping on here. I also collect Corningware (and will give you fifty thousands reasons why you should not used Pyrex) and dabble in console/handheld games. LoZ:OOT and FF6 are my favorites. 6. FAVOURITE COLOUR: I love the specific orange/yellow/greens that were used in everything made in the late 60s/ early 70s. if I could only pick one, I’d pick orange. 7. FAVOURITE BOOK: ho boy. I have so many! i couldn’t pick just one so have a few that I reread yearly: Dune by Frank Herbert, The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton, and Arthurian Women: A Casebook edited by Thelma Fenster 8. LAST PLAYED SONG: Nikki - forever the sickest kids, the wellerman - Nathan Evans , It's Alright, Ma (I'm Only Bleeding) - Bob Dylan. (I have a playlist going), 9. LAST FILM / SHOW: Resident Evil: Welcome to Raccoon City / Kaguya-sama: Love Is War？ 10. RECENT READS: Dr Zhivago by Boris Pasternak ( rereading cause its so good!) / Listening to Anne of Avonlea by Lucy Maud Montgomery on Spotify. 11. INSPIRATION: I added Evie to my multi in late 2015 and just basically did worldbuilding and headcanons for the guilty pleasure of it. I didn’t have any promotions for her and @malevnt and @cecaelian / @deifiedstars found me and the rest is history. I get a rush of muse whenever they pop up on the dash since, i am very appreciating with them tolerating the constant rated R view I have of the descendants franchise story and the excessive amounts of meta/headcanons that we come up with in our respective canons( and i love the shared ones as well!). A lot of inspiration comes from welsh mythology and fairy tales. The Rime of the Ancient Mariner by samuel taylor coleridge has been a major inspiration to Evie’s characterization as well as The Highwayman by Alfred Noyes. the aesthetics, the themes, I love them all. but, tbh, the most recent burst of inspiration that got Evie to her own space was me creeping through the promo tags and @tiderider was relatively close to the top, and i was blown away with the world building. 12. STORY BEHIND URL: @withinycu directed me towards several very good tellings of snow white and i got sucked into their literary criticisms because of it. the themes of water/the sea being the original mirror/gateway to the otherworld and being tied to nature/magic and the belief that the soul can be trapped inside a mirror, with Disney themselves confirming that its the Old King( among thousands of his ancestors) inside Evil Queen’s Mirror and is his final resting place after he died really struck a chord with me since the mirror itself was smashed in Descendants. so, shardfated. 13. FUN FACT ABOUT ME: My holy grail item is a 1940s General Electric Triple Whip Stand Mixer.

tagged by : @tiderider tagging : @songeurame ; @yoakkemae ; @cecaelian ; @withinycu ; @ircnwrought ; @severedleft @inmydrcams @paintedragcn @evermxre and whoever else wants to do it!

#DASH GAME #thanks for tagging me!

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bangzchan · 3 years

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hiiii!!! can i have a playlist? the name is evie! ty!!❤️

hiiii, yess of course!! 😊 hope you like this! <3

Easy - troye sivan

Vacancy - duvv

If i hated you - fletcher

Eyes closed - halsey

#ask

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fazkins · 1 year

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!! OUR INTRO POST !!

EVI: okay hi! so this is like a kin blog for fnaf + other media! we'll do timeline questions, art requests (mostly fulfilled by evi), name + pronoun suggestions, playlists, moodboards, stimboards, and just about whatever else you can think of! doesnt matter what you want to ask for, i will literally go through the trenches and make something completely my scratch just to fulfill whatever it is ya want >:D

this blog is run by two super close best friends, evi and soos!! here are our personal intros, id really appreciate if you read them :] okay evi out it's soos's turn now

SOOS: Greetings and salutations! I'm Soos aka Susie/Sammy/Roxy, nice to meet ya! ;D My pronouns are He/Him (+ some neopronouns but just he/him is fine!!), and I'm an IRL/kin of Susie, Sammy Emily and Roxanne Wolf from FNAF! Plus many other non-fnaf medias<3 My special interest is Hamilton, I love musicals aswell as FNAF and other horror games, specially indie horror games, pixel art and lowpoly just as examples ;P I'll be posting silly stuff here, like drawings, fnaf memories, AU/crossover ideas, one shots or writing ideas in general, playlists perhaps!! No promises tho, I'm bad at being active cause I'm pretty busy<\3 Oh yeah, I wont do anything regarding Willry or any Michael ship asides from sammike... sorry not sorry. As for my DNI I'd just say basic DNI criteria? And on thin ice with she/her-girl-female Sammy Emily believers cause well- I'm a guy LOL

Evi and I are the bestest of friends and this will be our silly and super cool blog !!!! Happy to have you here !!!!

EVI: yayaya hi!! im evri, but you can call me ev! im a fictionkin of evan afton aka the crying child, the bite victim, anddd golden freddy and i use she/her pronouns!! :D i have a special interest in fnaf and axolotls, though i like to think i can find enjoyment in just about everything :] im going to be posting drawings, stimboards, moodboards, stuff like that! basic general kin request stuffs!! im willing to do just about anything (including non-fnaf related, though please provide enough details if im not familiar on the source!) EXCEPT for mikevic and vengeful evan (sorry, these make me uncomfortable) im also slightly iffy on doubles, so im willing to make moodboard/stimboard requests for other versions of me but not art of other versions of me, sorry :[ but otherwise, feel free to request anything!! most art requests will probably (?) be fulfilled by me, im the silly who drew the icon and banner >:D and i follow basic dni criteria!!

me and soos are just too silly fellas who want to have a silly time with our silly blog, and we hope that you have a silly time too!! thank you for reading :D

#soos posts #evi posts #pinned #important #fnaf kin #kin stuff #kin request #kin help #kin care #kin blog #fictionkin #fiction kin #kinnie #kin list #kinning #fnaf kins #five nights at freddy's

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tazzytypes · 4 years

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Apocalypse: Sanctuary - Chapter 1

EDIT (6/10/2020): I know this is unprofessional as hell, but I added more because the ending didn’t sit right with me. Was too excited too hurry up and post and forgot there was a reason I plotted things out in a certain way. Hope you all can forgive me.

Finally! Chapter 1! I hope you guys enjoy it. I loved reading your comments and every kudos made me more excited to keep writing. Also, I apologize for the weird spacing throughout the post. I had to copy it from scrivener to AO3 to here and it just made things messy, but it’s 1AM rn and I’m tired.

Read on AO3 or Fanfiction.net!

click here for: Prologue |

Emily shifted in her seat, head rebelling after spending a week in the dim light of candles which cast everything in an orange hue and made the shadows dance on the walls. Even her large circular glasses did nothing to ease her sight… it was a wonder she wasn’t already legally blind. Either way, she had the mother of all headaches.

The constant fires always left E uncomfortably hot and the layers upon layers they were forced to dress didn’t help. First thing the wardens did when they arrived was strip her down and burn every shred of fabric… her favorite shirt nothing but ash. Clothing standards were non-negotiable. Evening wear on the left side of the armoire. Don’t mistake it for your daily clothes or you won’t receive dinner. Cocktails before-hand at 6:30 sharp. Lucky for Emily, she was always early for everything and had yet to find out what the punishment was for that particular faux-pas. She wished nothing but to grab the t-shirt and shorts she had arrived in just to find some relief.

“Be careful what you wish for,” Her mother had always told her.

At first, she had been relieved when the others arrived. Now she had to wonder if she would have been better off on her own… the supplies she had counted in storage would certainly have lasted longer. Small little cubes with all the nutrients they needed. They probably would have been better with non-perishables, but she doubted the wardens would risk a venture outside to hunt for some… not like they would be able to eat it, anyway.

Another stabbing pain pulsed at her temples, hands going to smooth it out as she listened to the chattering around her that sounded more like white noise than coherent sentences. Waiting out the apocalypse in solidarity would have driven her insane, humans being the social creatures they were. However, she doubted any of them would survive the end of the world with their sanity intact.

Not that one could guess it was the end of the world by the conversations of her fellow residents, most of them rich and most of the snobby. Gallant and Coco were thick as thieves… their personalities almost comically matching that of Regina George from Mean Girls. Evie, Gallant’s washed-up film star of a grandmother was almost repulsively republican — so homophobic and racist that most of the residents hoped she’d have a heart attack and die. The Stevens, a mother and son pair along with the son’s boyfriend, were tolerable. Andre liked to throw shade, but he was balanced by his witty counterpart, Stu.

She couldn’t help but smile to herself as she thought of their earlier conversation.

“It’s like Satan’s Spotify playlist,” Stu had joked in response to Gallants endless complaining, making Andre nearly choke on the water he had been drinking.

“For the amount of times I’ve been told I’m in league with the devil, I’d have expected him to have better taste.” Emily had joked in return.

Stu laughed and Andre only sighed, “don’t even get me started on the clothes.”

“Well at least you don’t have to wear a corset,” Coco had snipped, hand going up to pat at her hair in an attempt to keep it in place.

Emily tugged at her own, something poking her in her stomach, “These are not historically accurate.”

“Let me guess,” Stu said, gesturing to her glasses, “history major?”

“Insomniac.”

The pounding returned to her head and she leaned on the table, pressing at her temples with the hope of some relief. Maybe she could ask a Grey to get her some ice… she doubted Venable had a stash of ibuprofen in the reserves.

It had been 14 days since they had gotten here. 3 of which she had spent on her own, wandering the halls with a candelabra like a damsel from a Victorian novel. She tugged at the high collar of her shirt. Whoever designed this hole in the ground was determined to have them living in a corset-laced wet dream.

“Are you okay?” The girl beside her asked, a gentle hand placed on Emily’s arm. She had just arrived at the outpost, 2 weeks after the bombs dropped, with a boy around the same age. They had barely been able to introduce themselves before Venable cut in, ringing a bell obnoxiously to usher them to dinner.

The few words the pair had said still haunted her.

“It’s all gone,” The brown-haired boy had told them at Gallant’s insistence, lips pressed into a thin line as he tried not the let the emotions that came with those words to overwhelm him.

“Everything,” The girl echoed, voice hollow.

Gallant fell back as if he had been shot, panic threatening to overtake his lungs after it was done squeezing the life out of his heart.

“What…” Emily had stuttered out, trying to calm herself, “What did it look like?”

Andre’s voice had cracked and spat out like venom, “who cares about what it looks like?”

Stu had placed a hand on his lover's shoulder. His brows were furrowed and there was a slight shake that came over his body. Andre curled into him, Stu wrapping his arms around him as if he could somehow shield the man from the world.

Her anxiety spread through her like a wildfire, the attempted facade of strength cracking, “It matters because it could tell us how fucked we are!”

“We’re well past fucked!” Coco had snapped.

The girl with ebony hair focused on Emily, eyes welling with emotion she all too well understood.

“No sun…” She said, forcing the words from her mouth, “just green… smog.”

“Does that mean anything to you?” Stu had asked her, eyes betraying his own fears.

“Hiroshima happened in the… 50s? Chernobyl happened in the 80s,” Emily began to say, too in her thoughts to notice the side-eyed stares of her companions, “and that was still radioactive before it was radioactive… again.”

The comment seemed to stir something in the new girl’s head, “I heard about that… people were able to take trips last year… once in a lifetime opportunity.”

Coco scoffed, “so is dying.”

“Wait, so like… this can go away?” Gallant asked.

The girl looked to Emily, “People were living on Hiroshima before all this.”

“Possibly,” Emily mused, “Then again, we’d have to multiply that incident by… well, a lot.”

“We’d have to find out where and how many bombs were dropped.” The girl added, “as well as the area affected by it.”

Coco frowned, still more focused on her hair than the literal end of the world, “could you stop talking like that? You’re seriously freaking me out.”

“We’re all freaking out,” Dinah snipped.

“Just tired,” Emily reassured the girl, leaning back in her chair. She realized she had yet to ask the girl her name, but the Grey’s entered with their meal before she could — one Grey for each purple at the table. The large black plates were almost amusingly large in comparison to the singular small cube that sat at its center.

A full table-set was spread out before them, silver soup spoons, teaspoons, knives, and a salad fork mocking them every day. They stood out against the dark wood and reminded them that they were doomed to a life of tasteless jello for the rest of their lives. Emily finally understood how her pets felt, fed the same food day in and day out… at least she had bothered to change up the flavor. Her body rebelled against her after the third day, gagging whenever she brought the cube anywhere near her mouth. A few days of starvation quickly rectified the situation and greatly amused her jailer who was all too happy to put the food back from whence it came.

Venable chose the seating arrangements, naturally. Emily was sat beside the two new arrivals, positioned as far from the woman as possible. It was an arrangement neither of them minded. Emily didn’t hold her tongue in moments such as these and she didn’t like placing her wellbeing in the hands of another. Venable expected complete and total control over her residents, enforcing strict standards of order that were almost as tight as her hair, tightly pulled together in a double french twist at the back of her head. Emily was the stray hair that wouldn’t lay flat no matter what she did.

The new arrivals stared at their plates as the Greys placed the cubes before them, sending each other confused glances and waiting to see what the rest of them did. It hardly looked appetizing, brown and having a texture reminiscent of a health-nut’s chia-seed protein bar.

Emily poked at her own food for good measure, feeling her throat clench at the mere thought of eating again. It didn’t listen no matter how many times she tried to reason with it. You’d think the body would behave and finally realize that this was as good as things would get.

Gallant turned towards the girl to his left, “Don’t be too disappointed.”

“Darling,” Evie sighed from the other side of the table, spreading a napkin across her lap, “You don’t know what disappointment is until you’ve slept with Yul Brynner.”

The mere thought of the old woman having sex was enough to make Emily’s lips curl in disgust… maybe she didn’t need to eat after all. For once Dinah was amused by the old crone, chuckling as she cut apart her cube like it was a five-course meal instead of the science project of Elon Musk.

“I want to die,” She could hear Gallant mutter a few seats over, head in his hands as he contemplated his decision to bring his nana along on whatever this adventure was.

Dinah was quick to explain the cubes to the new pair, “The cube on your plate contains every vitamin our body needs…”

Across from Emily, Coco ungracefully shoved the entire cube into her mouth with one fell swoop, cheeks puffing out. Dinah continued to speak, pretending to have not seen Coco, words coming out rushed, “…or so they tell us.”

“Whether or not it aids in our caloric intake is up in the air,” Emily added, following the woman’s lead and gently cutting into the cube.

“The fewer calories the better!” Evie proclaimed from down the table, waving her fork in the air to accentuate her statement.

“Until you become a skeleton.”

Emily had learned from Dinah’s example to take small bites, savor it. She hoped it would fool her body into thinking it was eating more. Either way, her stomach still growled and she was grateful to her handler for taking her to Chick-Fil-A on their way to the Outpost. The mere thought of that last meal made her mouth water.

Coco’s silverware clattered onto her plate as she closed her eyes and whined, “I’m still hungry… I am so tired of the hunger.”

A fist to the table made Emily jump, dropping her own silverware in turn. The girl next to her looked to the other residents as Coco stood up abruptly, letting her chair screech against the floor as it was thrown back. She looked to Emily and all she could do was offer a half-hearted shrug that said, “same shit as usual.”

… God, she missed John Mulaney.

“Fuck! This! Bullshit!” Coco continued, “With all the thought that went into this they don’t have a single bag of Pirate’s Booty in the pantry?”

Evie sat back as if watching a soap opera while the rest of the residents braced themselves for another tantrum. Coco raved on, unaware of the sudden looming figures coming up behind her, “For a hundred million dollars a ticket, I expect goddamn Gordon Ramsay in the kitchen cooking us real food!”

Then she stopped, a tap of a cane on the floor signaling the arrival of Venable, Miss Mead on her heels like an obedient dog. They braced themselves for another, self riotous lecture on appreciating what they had as if none of them mourned for what was. Slowly, head bowed and aware of her impending doom, Coco turned.

The slap rang in everyone’s ears, causing a collective gasp to fill the room. The brown-haired boy beside Coco caught her as she fell back, her hand going instantly to her cheek. As she stood once more she took it away and examined it. Emily could see the barest hint of blood on the blonde’s fingers. A growl threatened to rise in her throat and her lips curled in a disgusted snarl.

It was hard to keep calm as she addressed the woman donned in black, “we’re all adults here. We can use our words… I hope. At least some of us have mastered that much.”

Venable turned to her. The black-haired girl beside her shifted uncomfortably. One could cut the tension between the two women with a knife.

Finally, Venable pulled her eyes away and turned her focus to the spoiled girl before her, her hand resting back on the cane she always carried, “Let me be very clear so there will be no misunderstanding. We have enough nutrition to last for the next 18 months and if our situation doesn’t improve, you can count on less and less.”

Slowly, Coco sat. Shaking hands pulled away from her cheek as she reached for the chair. She was so scared that her movements were stiff. Yes, she had been yelled at before. God knows she was a stubborn woman with a temper, but no one had ever slapped her before.

Venable retreated into the only exit of the room, slithering back into the shadows. Venable’s tone bordered on the overly-theatric, playing the part of a woman burdened by knowledge she dare not speak lest it disrupts the peace.

“You could have told us that from the very beginning.” Emily blurted out.

The woman didn’t even bother to look at her as her lips curled into a mocking smile. When she finally turned to Emily, her tone was thick with condescension, “and cause unnecessary panic?”

“You know what they say about communication and relationships.”

“ Situation ?” Gallant asked, waving a hand to get their attention, “What is our situation ?”

Miss Mead looked to her boss whose face glimmered with uncertainty and surprise, but only for a moment. Venable was debating whether or not to tell the truth or keep them in the constant state of unknowing, easy to control. If she were still in college, Emily could have written an essay on the ways Venable reminded her of the worst sort of people in their history books.

“We had a perimeter alert this morning,” She finally told them, less than pleased with the fact the words were leaving her mouth at all, “Something penetrated the grounds. It was a carrier pigeon delivering a message from our benefactors.”

Coco gasped, “Wait! A pigeon! Can we eat it?”

Emily sighed and leaned on the table, resisting the urge to hand her head in her hands. This place was going to be migraine city the moment she tapered off her medication.

Miss Mead’s tone echoed her feelings, brows scrunching at the pure idiocy of the question.

“It was contaminated by the fallout .”

Her response didn’t phase Evie, who made it abundantly clear she had never made a meal for herself in her entire life, “Can we boil it?”

Venable reached into her pockets and pulled out a small sliver of paper and began to read, “There are no more governments. Only rotting mounds of corpses, too many to bury.”

Emily’s hands fell to her lap and curled into fists until she could feel her fingernails embed themselves into the flesh of her palms. All she could hear were the voice-mails, each and every last plead for life. She could still hear her brother’s voice, cracking in a way she hadn’t heard since their grandmother’s funeral. It was etched into her brain to the last breath. To his last breath, he took his role as an older sibling seriously, trying to soothe her fears instead of his own.

“I don’t want to die. God, I don’t want to—”

Venable continued reading, “Starving people kill for a piece of bread.”

“I love you… I… You were… are a good sister.”

“Three outposts have been overrun.” Venable’s voice droned on, voice cracking ever slightly as she reached the end of the letter, “We are the last vestiges of civilized life on the planet.”

“I… I know you would have made a difference… I wish I could have seen the life you would have created.”

Venable looked to them all as she read the last line, “be vigilant.”

Emily was pulled from her thoughts by a squeeze to her hand, instinctively pulling it back until she realized a hand covering her own. When Emily met the ebony-haired girl’s gaze she offered a reassuring smile, Emily nodded in a small message of thanks before brushing away the single tear which had begun to roll down her cheeks.

“Everything we know is gone,” Mead summarized, eyes blank. It was nice to see that even the Warden and Venable felt fear. Made them feel… human.

“In two weeks ?”, Andre shook his head, staring blankly at his hands, “That’s all it took?”

In a rare show of empathy, Gallant reached out and squeezed the man’s hands. Emily noted the way Stu watched the interaction, eyes watching the hands as if it were a snake slithering in his direction.

“They made you think the system was a rock,” Mead explained, standing at attention with her hands locked together in front of her, “It was a water balloon. One prick of the needle and —”

She made a popping noise, “that’s all it took.”

It wasn’t as if Emily was surprised. One of the first things she learned in a college psychology class was that the only reason the world didn’t fall into chaos was due to people putting faith in a system that would protect them… conventional. The bombs had scattered them, left them weak to the chaos that ensued. It reminded her of the way roaches scattered when sprayed with Raid. Lawlessness was the antithesis of reason, mob mentality was evidence enough of that. It was textbook horror.

“We will only survive if we follow the rules,” Venable emphasized.

Emily scoffed. Some of Venable’s rules she understood while others were a blatant overreaching of power. She could understand the “no sex” rule to a degree. Copulation could result in the creation of new life which they had no means to sustain, but even the Victorians had condoms and you couldn’t walk into a 7-Eleven without finding a rack of Plan B. Not to mention half the residents were gay which made her rules pointless.

“Rules are the basis of order,” Venable said, clearly addressing her despite staring at the wall above them, “unless you find yourself to be above the rules? Too special for them to apply?”

She hadn’t a moment to voice her thoughts, quickly distracted by the army of wardens that quickly began to fill the room. They all watched with bated breath as The Fist bent down to whisper in Mead’s ear, her lip twitching and eyes flitting to the ground as she gave the other woman her full attention.

“There’s a problem.”

Those 3 words were enough to break Venable’s gloating, head snapping to the side like Coco’s had a moment ago. They all watched the pair, unsure of who to keep a better watch on — Venable or Mead.

“We’ve detected a spike in the background radiation, centered in this room,” Mead informed her boss.

Gallant was quick to point fingers to the new pair, whatever empathy he had shown with Andre gone like the wind as he moved from them as if they had the plague, “It’s them! They just came from the outside!”

“No!” The girl exclaimed, shaking her head vigorously and sitting forward in her chair, knuckles white around the wooden arms, “No! We were checked when we got here! We’re clean!”

She looked to Emily for aid, brown eyes wide and pupils dilated. Her eyes glimmered with confusion and panic, searching for an unspoken question. Emily’s brows knitted and she bit her lip, eyes flickering between the girl before her and the wardens preparing a device that looked like a microphone attached to a larger box.

“No,” the boy echoed, “we went through decontamination.”

His eyes also went to Emily as he continued to speak, begging for her to understand, “we were cleared.”

Emily opened her mouth but could find nothing to reassure them. Mead addressed the room before Emily could utter a word. “Place your hands on the table… and don’t. Move .”

Shaking her head at the girl, Emily did as she was told. This hadn’t happened before. She didn’t know what to expect. As the device clicked from her left, she edged her pinky towards her knife. It wasn’t sharp. It didn’t have to be sharp to cut through jello. With enough pressure, it could cut through skin. The rest of the room faded away as she kept her eyes on The Fists' hands, a second device in her hands as well. Emily’s heart hammered with each step closer.

“Radioactive contamination,” Mead spoke, devices crinkling like static as they hovered over each person, “is a grave risk to our entire community.”

The Fist, a giant of a woman with blonde hair pulled back from her face, towered above Emily when she was standing. Sitting down made her feel like a child in the presence of a giant. She held her breath as she felt the device get closer, clicking sounds falling silent as soon as it came above her hand. The Fist repeated the motion a few times more, making Emily’s heart go haywire in her chest, before moving on to the new arrival next to her, the clicking resuming once more.

“The clean rule is there to protect all of us,” Mead continued, now going over the boy who sat stiff as a board, eyes following the woman’s every move, “A single stray gamma particle can cause skin lesions. Your DNA breaks apart, your body disintegrates. You’ll wish you died in the blast.”

The residents weren’t sure what to make of her speech. It wasn’t as if any of them graduated with a degree in radiology. They had learned it in high-school, sure, but that was ages ago… before there was colored TV for some of them.

“But someone here decided,” Mead went on, circling the table for a second round of testing, “that their individual needs were more important.”

Emily tensed once more as the stick was waved around her, Mead pausing momentarily to look down at the box she held in her hand to see if it had somehow turned off. Finding nothing, she continued. “Someone went outside. Touched something dirty .”

The room was holding their breaths. They all knew they were innocent, but didn’t trust their companions as far as they could throw them. Their gaze followed the device, then to the person next to them, then to the person in front of them. They searched for a sign of guilt. It was easier to point fingers when someone looked shifty.

“Makes me sick to think that this person,” Mead spit as she made it to gallant, “to risk contaminating all—”

A wild crackling filled the room. They all jumped in their seats, eyes focusing on the hairdresser. Emily’s heart leapt into her throat, paralyzed as the vultures began circling, donned in leather and stronger than any of them could hope to be.

“No,” The man said after a moment, shaking his finger as he looked to the Wardens, “nononono. That’s a mistake because the only thing I’ve touched is Coco’s hair.”

The Fist stood over Coco and shook her head. Mead gave the final order, voice lacking any pity, “she’s clean. You’re dirty.

The wardens grabbed at Gallant, claws latching onto him as he began to struggle.

“No!” He cried, “this is impossible! That machine is wrong!”

Fingers dug into his shoulder and Gallant cried out in pain, dragged to his feet and across the floor. The warden closest to him placed him in a choke-hold, Gallant letting out a fearful sob as he clawed at the man’s arm. Evie stood, chair screeching across the floor as she reached out towards her grandson with trembling hands.

“This is outrageous! Stop! Please, stop! Bring him back!”

Coco gasped and let out a cry, hands moving to cover her face as her eyes welled with tears. The girl beside Emily looked between herself and the boy in front of her, chest rising and falling rapidly as she began to hyperventilate.

Gallant scream pierced the air, “Evie!”

The crackling filled the room once more. In their panic, they had failed to realize Mead making her way towards Andre and Stu. The couple could only stare at each other, the seconds dragging on like hours.

“No way!” Stu chanted, refusing to look away from Andre, “No! No way!”

“No,” Andre sobbed, reaching out towards the man and trying to pry him from the grasp of the warden pulling him away. He was thrown away with a shove.

“Get your hands off me!” Stu screamed, another warden now going to carry him by his feet.

Mead’s voice rang out from the chaos, followed swiftly by the marching of footsteps.

“Take them to the decontamination room!”

They could hear the groans of their fellow residents echoing down the hall. The sounds resonated long after the steel doors had closed.

Emily reached out for the hand of the girl next to her. Her face was frozen in a gasp, eyes wide with terror. Her hand rested on hers which still sat on the table. She squeezed back and held on for dear life.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

For once the saloon was quiet. Evie had gone to bed. Emily currently sat next to a crying Andre, Dinah opposite her. He hadn’t been able to stop crying since dinner, now unable to do more than hiccup.

“How could he have been contaminated,” He sobbed, a horrible epiphany crossing his mind as he turned to Emily, “do you think they—?

Emily gave him a look, “Did you forget Gallant’s little hand-squeeze during dinner? He was coming on to you, not Stu.”

Andre had a fleeting smile before anxiety overtook him once more.

“What we need to do now,” Dinah said, running a hand up and down her son’s back, “is make sure Stu comes back safe.”

Her words were less than comforting, Andre shoving away her arm and staring at her with an emotion Emily couldn’t quite place… somewhere between distress and anger.

“Why wouldn’t he be safe?” he demanded, looking to the brunette when his mother offered no response. Emily opened her mouth, hoping something would pop into her head, but she was at a loss for words. She couldn’t reassure him of anything. It would be a lie.

The man scoffed, stepping back and shaking his head, “I can’t believe you.”

He turned on his heels, breath hitching once more as another fit of sobs threatened to take over him. Why Stu? Why not them? Of all the residents Stu was the least deserving of—

Emily rose, hand held out to stop him, “Andre—”

A gentle hand was placed on her shoulder. Dinah took a step around her, hand trailing down her purple-clothed arm until she held her hand, the other coming to rest on top of it.

“Let me talk to him,” the woman tried to reassure, the events clearly have shaken her as much as Stu.

Emily pressed her lips together and nodded, pulling back and watching the woman hurry towards her son, heels clicking down the hall. The door clanged shut behind her and silence filled the room.

… but only for a moment.

“What’s going to happen to me if they find out Gallant is —” Coco started to ramble, “I mean I was the only reason he was here in the first place.”

“You were clean,” The brown-haired boy pointed out, face twisting in confusion.

“Well, I know that!” Coco exclaimed, turning on the couch to face him, “but who’s to say there won’t be a second investigation. I mean there had to be a reason they were tainted.”

She went quiet for a moment, hands held out in front of her as if she was having a revelation, “oh my gosh! If they kill Gallant who’s going to do my hair?”

Emily sighed and sat next to the new girl who was wringing her hands and staring into the fire.

“I never did ask your names,” Emily noted, looking to the girl and the boy.

“Timothy,” He said with a nod of his head.

The girl was pulled from her thoughts, turning from the fire and to the people behind her, “Emily.”

Emily chuckled, “You’re joking.”

“What?”

“It’s the end of the world and I can’ escape the fate of having a basic girl name.”

A smile curled at the other Emily’s lips, then a laugh, “really?”

Emily extended a hand, “Hi, Emily. I’m Emily.”

“There’s two of you now?” Coco groaned.

“I was named after my grandmother,” The other Emily said, taking her hand and giving it a shake, “you?”

“My parents looked in a baby book and picked a ‘less common’ girl name. 21 years later and there’s at least three Emily’s in each one of my classes.”

“God, this is going to be confusing,” Coco sighed, pressing her fingers to her nose in a praying motion, “Oh! I know! Emily 1 and Emily 2… no... That’s too wordy.”

“Middle names?” Timothy asked.

“No way in hell,” The two replied.

“I can always go by ‘Em’,” she said, “god knows I’m used to it by now.”

“M?” Coco asked, “that’s original.”

“Well, we can’t all be named after a brand of cereal.”

“I was named after Coco Chanel!” she snapped, turning to Timothy with crocodile tears, “You get it, right?”

“…yeah?” he answered, an eyebrow quirking up in confusion, “The clothing brand.”

He looked to the two Emily’s as he spoke like he was part of some hidden camera show. The two could only laugh and shake their heads as he was quickly rounded into another one of Coco’s monologues.

“My parents named me Coco because they knew I was destined to make it big. So it was only natural that I…”

Timothy looked ready to face nuclear winter. His guilt over the previous dinner altercations made him feel guilty for wanting to run away, but the boy always had a hard time saying, “no.” The Emily’s watched on, sparing him pity-filled glances when he looked to them for help.

“So did you pay your way in here or are you here for your superior genetics?” Emily asked.

“Genetics,” Emily… Em replied, “I was supposed to be on the east coast but someone paid for me to be transported all the way out here.”

“Who?”

She shrugged, “no idea. Some rich snob wanted their dog to go with them… at least that’s what Venable tells me.”

“I’d hardly call her a trustful resource.”

Em laughed, “That we can agree on.”

“How long do you think we’ll be here?”

“More than we have rations for,” Em sighed, reaching for a glass of water, “Fallout could last up to five years and we’ve talked about Chernobyl… but nothing on this scale has ever been recorded.”

Emily stared blankly ahead and nodded, trying to recall all she had learned about the matter in school, “we could be here for 30 years… maybe more.”

“Sorry,” Em offered, “anyone here can tell you — I’m not one to speak to for optimism or reassurance.”

“No,” The other girl shook her head, “I’d rather blatant honestly than pretty lies.”

“If we had anything more than water I’d toast to that.”

Emily laughed and shook her head. She reached for a glass of her own and held it up.

“Let’s toast anyway.”

Em smiled and leaned her glass forward, a dull clinking sound filling the air.

“What were you doing?” Em asked, leaning back and taking a sip of water, “before the bombs hit?”

“Protesting. It sounds minuscule now… climate change, minimum wage.”

“Everything is minuscule in the presence of death.”

“Poetic.”

“I sure hope so,” Em jested, “or all the money I wasted on an English Major was worthless.”

Emily laughed, “Is that what you were doing before the bomb’s dropped?”

“Nah… I was at home… enjoying summer. I was working on our campus’ literary magazine and selling art prints online as a side-hustle.”

Em shook her head, silence sitting for a moment before Emily spoke.

“I don’t know what to do with myself now.”

“I don’t think any of us do, but at least we’re not alone.”

“I wouldn’t call this particularly good company,” Emily admitted.

“It’s not,” Em blatantly admitted, earning a short laugh from her companion, “but you and timothy seem alright.”

“And you?”

“Well…” Em said, side eying Coco who was still avidly speaking without a sign of ever stopping, “I’m no influencer.”

Emily snorted and shook her head, “that may be for the best.”

------------------------------------------------

“All I’m saying is Stu was boring and using up our food, and that lesions won’t work with my complexion.”

Em rolled her eyes and looked to Emily who once again sat beside her as Coco’s tirade went on. The blond-haired woman once again was patting at her hair like she was on the red carpet. They looked to Timothy across from them who just sat looking blankly ahead of him. Em smiled at shook her head, not able to blame the man for pretending he was anywhere else but here. If not for the mandatory cocktail hour and communal meals, Em would have stayed as far away from the others as possible.

Days had passed since Gallant and Stu had been forced into decontamination. Gallant refused to speak of the incident and… well… they knew where it got Stu. One would have liked to have said that Coco had shown some respect for the deceased, but the farthest she got was initial shock followed by contempt towards their fallen comrade.

“Fuck you,” Andre spat, murder in his eyes, “I hope they come for you next.”

“If they don’t,” Em noted, Coco’s eyes glaring into her own, “I will.”

She gaped at her, nose curling as her expression turned into one of disgust, “Is that a threat?”

“A promise.”

Emily gave her a look like a mother trying to get their child to behave among strangers.

It’s not worth it!” She hissed under her breath. Em was far too annoyed to pay her any mind. She could forgive selfishness and vanity, but her complete lack of sympathy for those in pain? It didn’t matter if it was genuine. All she had to do was shut up, give Andre space to grieve.

Lucky for Coco, their jail-keepers arrived at the table before Em could follow out her threat. Venable’s cane sounded like the tik of a clock with each step she took, reminding the brunette of a horror story her friends and herself would tell around Halloween.

“Nobody is coming for anyone,” Mead told them as they both rounded the table to their respective seats at the head of the table, “unless you break the rules.”

She looked to Em, “which includes murder.”

Em paused as she took a sip of water, raising a brow at Coco, “I never said anything about murder.”

The older woman looked into her lap and shook her head, trying to hide the amused smile threatening to show on her face. Coco scoffed.

“This is harassment!”

“This is a difficult time for everyone,” Venable spoke, failing to address Coco’s claims, “as a small consolation, we have a special treat.”

Em could smell the food before she could see it, the salt and the meat, she could taste it in her mouth without even touching it. She felt like a dog, smelling things with such detail she had never been able to notice before. It was incredible what desperation could do to the body. The whole table buzzed with excitement, grins brightening faces and hands going to silverware before the food could be set on the table.

Emily was unable to hide her shock, “no cubes tonight?”

Venable’s lips curled into a smile, the expression doing nothing to ease the woman’s continuously angry expression, “enjoy the bonne bouche.”

Bowls clinked together, the Greys hurrying to place food on the table.

“Don’t get used to it.”

“Yes,” Emily sighed beside her, looking over to Em with an expression of relieved joy.

The brunette didn’t care. If she was being honest, she hadn’t exactly paid much attention to the woman’s words after she saw the soup on the food trolley. It was much like a cat seeing a bird at the window, green eyes widening and pupils dilating as if Em had found her true love. While her companions were much more graceful, at least attempting some decorum, Em quickly dug into the meal.

Her mother used to chide her for this as a child, sitting next to her brother at the dinner table and seeing who could finish first. She couldn't explain to the woman that she had to eat fast or else her brother would steal her dessert. Such things didn’t make sense to an adult, but a child’s reasoning was elaborate and honest. For a life so short, every little detail mattered.

Usually, she wasn’t a fan of stew. Something about the floating meat and murky broth didn’t sit right with her. Now she wondered why she didn’t enjoy the delicacy more often. The meat fell apart like well-buttered bread in her mouth, the broth warmed her from the inside out. She could feel it burning down her throat like a shot of Bourbon, somewhat painful but none the less satisfying.

“You think bribing us with a hot meal’s just gonna’ to make everything okay?” Andre asked, voice sore with grief. A white handkerchief flourished with the wave of his hand. It had been somewhere on his person since Stu was pronounced dead. Em was too caught up in her hunger to realize the weight of his words or the sudden stillness of the girl beside her, an unspoken conversation between herself and Timothy. She would take the bribe happily if it meant being spared from the tasteless cube she had become accustomed to. It wouldn’t win her over, but only a fool refused something readily given with no strings attached.

By the time Emily swatted at Em’s arm the brunette had already finished most of the stew, the bottom of her bowl visible through the broth. She sent Emily an irritated glare, gesturing with her hands as she swallowed her last bite.

“What?” she hissed.

Emily only rose her brows and sent a pointed glance towards Timothy. Turning towards him she was meant with an equally suspicious gaze and a shake of the head. With a sigh, she sat back in her chair, looking between the two and waiting for an explanation.

“I think my mouth just had an orgasm,” Coco moaned with a full mouth, quickly shoving more food into her mouth in fear it would turn out to be a cruel mirage. Em looked at her and embarrassment made her flush a pale pink. Is that what she had looked like?

“Andre,” Venable sighed, settling in her seat and arranging her silverware before she took a single bite, “We’re not trying to bribe anyone, but there is something we all need to understand.”

With a thud of her cane on the floor, the residents turned to her like raccoons being caught in a garbage can. Em prepared herself for a show of saintly-hood the uptight woman so adored.

“There is no ‘us’ and ‘them,’ We are in this together,” Venable proclaimed, “No individual is greater than the group. We did what we had to do. This is, quite simply, a tragedy.”

Em held her tongue for once. While Stu and herself hadn’t been close, she respected him more than she respected most of her fellow purples. The old world may have died, but the power games still presided — a strongman was still a strongman even when draped in fine clothes and laced in a corset.

It wasn’t as if any of them were paying her any mind, too enthralled in the smell of salt and meat like Hansel and Gretal in the witch’s house. Dinah sighed as she took another bite.

“Where have you been hiding the meat?”

Venable’s pause waved over Em like a bucket of cold water, the slight twitch of her lip as she looked down at her plate louder and more illuminating than any sermon she had given them. “We have resources… for special occasions.”

Em could only stare at her as she ate, trying to work at the puzzle which was Miss Venable. There were moments where she swore the woman showed regret or perhaps anxiety, but they were small and fleeting. Everyone had a tell, even the most stoic of society. Em just couldn’t figure it out and it drove her up a wall. It felt like she was staring at a brick wall, waiting for it to crumble.

Gallant pulled something out from his mouth, cringing as his teeth dig into something hard. It was white and square, but he couldn’t tell what it was? Gristle? Bone?

“I’ve never tasted anything like it.” He murmured, examining the object further as he twisted it in the light.

“It’s chicken,” Mead told him a bit too insistently.

“That’s not a chicken bone,” Timothy spoke, looking from his untouched bowl to the object the hairdresser was holding. His lips pressed into a thin line. Venable took a spoonful to her lips, then another, and then another.

Andre spoke from the other end of the table, voice wavering as he stared at yet another hard piece which had made his teeth hurt, “tell me this doesn’t look like a finger.”

Em looked to her plate, stomach twisting as she poked at the remains of her meal. A piece of white glimmered to the surface. Damning polite behavior, she reached in with her hand and pulled it out. Her mind went blank as she stared at it, rectangular with two prongs reaching outward from the body. It was a tooth. There was no doubt. Chicken didn’t have teeth. A frog gathered at the back of her throat, threatening to leap from her mouth.

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Andre sputtered out, breath coming out in wheezing gasps as he flew back from the table shrieking, “The stew is Stu!”

The table erupted in panic. Gallant spit out whatever was in his mouth, leaving a dripping dark stain on the tablecloth. Andre wailed and Coco shrieked to a Grey named Mallory to make her throw up. Em could only stare at the near-empty bowl in front of her, the reality not quite sitting with her. Morbid questions filled her mind. It had tasted like… she didn’t know what it tasted like other than meat. Salty, maybe? Sweet?

A firm hand squeezed her own, Emily once again there to pull her from a spiral.

“You didn’t know.”

Amongst the screaming, the gagging, and the retching Venable sat, unmoved by the fires of fear rising around her. She didn’t smile, didn’t frown, didn’t show any reaction at all.

“For heaven’s sake,” she spoke with the same amount of annoyance she always addressed them with, a touch of boredom in her tone “Don’t be ridiculous. There are lines which can never be crossed.”

Something was glinting in Venable’s eyes, something that Em had seen many times before but could never properly place. The woman looked to Mead, “not eating people is off the first rank.”

Em’s voice sounded hollow as it left her, “Yet it is always the first taboo to be broken among the desperate.”

The thought of cannibalism wasn’t what alarmed Em. Cannibalism was deeply ingrained in human history — from burial rituals to a final stand against starvation. No. What frightened her was realizing she would do it again in an instant if it meant her survival. A fire burned in her as she looked to Venable, sitting there with a smug glow of victory. She had hated Venable before, but this made her blood boil at the sight of her. A revelation she did not want had been forced upon her and Venable’s eyes glinted as they met her own.

Her message was clear: Don’t rebel or you’ll be next.

#ahs fanfic #michael langdon #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon x oc

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