#i’ve been needing some motivation for the next chapter so this ask came at the perfect time

[calmlb]

i'm just sitting here rereading the latest chapter of your babyzai fic for the 3rd time and i keep coming back to that one scene in which chuuya and yosano discuss babyzai's more-than-a-little-concerning silence. every time i read it i end up giggling and kicking my feet thinking about chuuya's future reaction whenever babyzai /does/ say something. obviously i don't know what your plans are, but my current bet is that his "first word" is going to be chuuya's name (or a variation of it) simply because - how cute would that be? i actually thought babyzai was going to call out to chuuya on that last chapter when he started crying and reaching out after the dissociation episode. the fact it didn't happen is just making me MORE excited wondering when it might happen!!

AHHHHH I CANT TELL YOU HOW HAPPY THIS ASK MADE ME 🥺🩷🩷

omg yes, it was so hard to not let babyzai call out to Chuuya last chapter 😫 like that’s exactly the direction my ✨writer flow✨ was leading me, but i’m so glad to hear that the choice to hold off has paid off & made the anticipation build 🥹

the moment babyzai speaks for the first time (& what he says) has been one of the things i’ve been most excited to write since planning this fic, so tysm for looking forward to it too 😭🩷🫶🏻

i don’t want to give anything away, but let’s just say that that moment may be coming sooner than you think 🤭

[bigtreefest]

Chapter 1: Digging For Gold

From: You Catch More Bees With Honey Series

Pairing: Mob! Bucky x Farmer! Reader

Summary: Bucky doesn’t always have to personally negotiate his business dealings, but what happens when one of them insists they’ll only deal with him? He heads out to the country to get it sorted, of course.

Word Count: 2,167

Content/Warnings: light mob themes, mentions of misogyny/ Bucky’s attempt at it, fem reader with minimal descriptions, minimal use of y/n, use of a pet name (Honey), Sam and Steve teasing Bucky and Bucky having none of it. Content below the cut.

Author’s Note: Well here it is— my first fic publication! I literally never write, but I’ve felt so motivated to get this down. Idek how I wrote this many words bc lord knows I’m not doing the same for school. Anyway, I digress. I hope you all enjoy. Comments, suggestions, asks, and reblogs are soooo appreciated!! Dividers by @firefly-graphics

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Bucky was used to being turned down at first. In the fact, he was used to being turned down two, three, four times before getting his way. He always got his way, until it came to you. He had been trying to seal this deal for what was going on months now. Usually by his fifth ask, his clients got some sense into them, and in this case, sense means a threat of lead through the heart by a henchman. But that hadn’t phased you at all. If anything, it encouraged you to keep pushing back. A real piece of work, this girl was. Each time someone went to negotiate, they came back with their head hung low, sending in their boss to deal with her next as she had requested. Just for that cocky bastard to leave and come back doing the same. Why were they giving into your requests? They couldn’t help themselves when you had that convincing way about you, and neither could Bucky, even if he wanted to deny it to everyone around him. After months of asking for the next boss, you had finally reached James Buchanan Barnes: the head of his mob. Known for his ruthless nature, no one had ever come out of a deal saying ‘no’ to him. If they said no, they didn’t come out of the deal, simple as that. No one had seen his soft spots, and his buttons weren’t to be pushed. Too many had found out the hard way. The only one who could get away with it was his best friend who had known him since childhood Steve. More like a brother, and his only family left, at that. But it looked like he had a soft spot for you, letting you get away with dismissing these meetings, which is exactly why he needed to go himself: to show he wasn’t soft. To show that he could close the deal and his men lacked discipline when they fell to your kind charm. He’d go to this meeting and then wash his hands of the issue, making the deal he decided he had wanted months ago. He got into the back of his black town car and shut the door, directing the driver to start the long journey to the farm.

As he sat in the car, he wondered why the partition was up, as he heard singing faintly coming from the other side. He pushed the button for it to come down, to be greeted by a familiar pair of blue eyes that belonged to his best friend Steve and the back of Sam’s head.

“Oh heyyy boss. Fancy seeing you here,” Sam said keeping his eyes on the road and turning down the radio.

“Where’s Gio?” Bucky barked back.

“Oh calm down. He’s home relaxing with his family. Sam and I gave him the day off. Figured you’d need our help,” Steve said with a small shrug.

Bucky grumbled to himself something about being the boss while Steve and Sam exchanged a quick glance in the front seat before Sam spoke up again.

“Listen Boss, she’s already been through both of us. Obviously we can’t tell you how to succeed, but we can tell you what to expect going in there.”

“Plus we can remind you what we’re really here for and give you back-up none of us had the luxury of” Steve interjected, “the fact that you’ve waited this long shows you’ve got a soft spot for her, and we can’t afford to push this deal back any farther.”

Bucky knew that. He knew it was coming down to the wire “First off, I do not have a soft spot. Not since I was little, and you know that. I’d have anyone else’s head for even thinking such a thing. And second, if it’s so easy, why couldn’t you two have sealed this deal last month when you went, then? Huh?”

At that, Steve snapped his mouth shut and Sam kept his head forward, not daring to glance back at the mob boss whose jaw was clenched with anticipation.

“That’s what I thought. But go ahead, speak now or forever hold your peace, because when I go in there, I need to come out with a deal.”

He’d never let anyone besides his right-hand and number three men know how on edge he was for this meeting. He looked out the window hoping for the best and that his hard outer persona wouldn’t crack today as Sam and Steve started with their briefing.

When Sam pulled off of the pavement and onto the dirt driveway, Bucky’s eyes absorbed the rolling hills and abundant trees. It was beautiful, but nothing like his city. He enjoyed the tight spaces and routine rigidity of concrete. This was a different world. Her land was sprawling, far further than the crop fields sat. Acres for the cattle to graze and others that laid fallow. It was built over old mines. That’s why he wanted it all: for the tunnels. It would be so much easier to store and move his product, cutting transportation time and having discreet underground facilities if he could just strike a deal, but he’d finally met his match without even meeting her yet. A woman just as stubborn as him, but opposite in every other way.

Sam pulled up in front of a beautiful farm house. Modest, but chic and well cared for. Leaning against one of the posts that framed the front porch was her. Hair hidden under a cowgirl hat, well worn from work-filled days and in a flannel shirt, jeans, and boots showing even more mileage than the hat. Bucky looked out the window and let out a deep breath.

“Wish me luck, boys”

They both just nodded. A more than sufficient acknowledgment in their line of work. Bucky opened the car door and his red bottoms crunched the rocks beneath his feet as he sauntered over to her.

“Ms. Y/L/N. This has been a long time coming.”

“Indeed it has. Good to see you Mr. Barnes. And please, call me Y/N.” Her voice twanged.

Then she flashed him that smile, ugh how he hated that. She wasn’t even trying, but it made him feel an odd warmth that started deep in his chest. One that almost made it seem like it made his heart melt a little. A heart that was stuck in an ice age for as long as he could remember. Still, he couldn’t budge. He had to set an example for his men. How could he push an agenda he couldn’t fulfill? His thoughts continued to race as he stepped up to the bottom of the wooden steps leading to the porch. Not a good start with her literally having the high ground.

“Do your drivers want to come in? I don’t mind gettin’ them some refreshments while we chat.” She offered kindly. How was she so smooth? Bucky glanced back and Steve and Sam gawked at you though Steve’s window. Bucky made a mental note to have that tinted more so no one could see them embarrassing him and themselves in the future.

“No. They’re fine.” Bucky coldly, borderline spat back. “And you can call me by my name, as well, if we’re not doing last names. That’s mostly what I do with those I work closely with”

Bucky wanted to have a firm hand in these business dealings, but he wasn’t a total monster, plus, he knew in most cases, the more comfortable a client was, the more likely they’d give up benefits, sweetening up his own end of the deal. See? He was still working on wrapping you around his finger. He had this down, even if Steve and Sam didn’t think so. At least, that’s what he tried to convince himself as you nodded with a soft smile on your face and led him inside.

Bucky followed you past a living room, flanked by a functional and methodically laid out kitchen. That gave him a better idea of who he was working with: someone who meticulously planned their work environment. Someone who cared for every aspect no matter how small. Everything had a place and made sense. Nothing unnecessary was present and it seemed ergonomic, yet modern and classy, like everything about you. His gaze lingered as long as he could until he had to pull his head forward to continue following you down the hallway to your home office. Once again, practical and functional, with a few papers strewn around a laptop and your other useful desk features. You had everything you needed in arm’s reach, no need to tuck it away in drawers if you were constantly using it and you kept it organized enough that it wasn’t a stressful mess. You gestured for Bucky to take a seat on the couch across from you as you sat in your desk chair and flashed him a smile. Ugh there was that smile again, and this time it got him good and he couldn’t help but dopily smile back, not even aware of what his body was doing.

“James” oh how he hated when you called him that. Sure, it was his formal business name, but the way you said it made him grimace. Yeah, it sounded beautiful from your lips, but its use meant your weren’t close. And that’s all he wanted. Was for you to be close. Up against him, on top of him, engulfing him, drowning him. And he would happily accept that fate. Heck, he was drowning right now in these thoughts about you, but he clawed his way to the surface and shook his head to refocus as you said his name again, noticing his attention had drifted in favor to a blank stare at your lips. He knew with that slip-up, he had to regain control and take charge.

“Listen Honey, you’ve essentially been exterminating every guy I send in here and I don’t like it. All you are is sweet but somehow you’re turning down this deal like a bitter old man would” His sudden stern and almost condescending tone was a huge juxtaposition to the wonderland face you had noticed moments ago. You didn’t like that one bit. Being an independent woman who ran a successful business, you were used to men trying to stomp on you until they had their way. You didn’t stand for it with all of Bucky’s underlings and you weren’t going to stand for it now. You’d regain control and keep your calm demeanor, because you’re that much better than all these other mediocre men in business you dealt with all too often.

“First off, James. Let’s not get into extermination or pesticides. That’s far too complicated of an issue for right now, especially if you don’t understand the simple terms I so graciously asked you for. And if you wanna call something honey, you better be referring to my beehives on the south side of the property. Now, I just want to talk to you so you can see where I’m coming from” you said was a sickeningly sweet smile. He could see it didn’t reach your eyes, still filled with fire and not backing down. But dang if your tone still didn’t match the new nickname he’s given you. Sweet and thick. Bucky for the first time found himself listening to demands from another. He settled down into the couch cushions as you pulled out the contract you’d drafted yourself.

Bucky raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, fine. By all means, let’s get down to business. I wanna see what’s been giving all my men such a hard time that you’ve had to come directly to me.”

Bucky leaned forward to grab the contract from your hands. He flipped through the pages, most of it was identical to what he’d drafted, besides you inflating the numbers. He could handle that, but the last line he saw made his neck muscles go limp as he dropped his head.

“James Barnes will work and stay at the farm for one month’s time, uninterrupted, to learn the gravity, value, and hard work associated with operations.”

He should’ve known, but what was one month? If he was going rn use the mines, he may as well see all the land and livestock that could be affected if things went awry. He’s been doing this job for years, anyway. Maybe he needed the break. He’s sure Steve could control everything else, right? He wouldn’t have waited so long for this deal had he not needed the mine shafts. Your smooth voice broke him out of his thoughts.

“So… what’ll it be, James?”

He looked up at you through his lashes with a smirk you couldn’t quite read as you returned your own smirk, knowing what this meeting meant. Knowing that he wouldn’t have come in person unless he really wanted to make a deal happen.

“Sure Honey, whatever you want”

Next>

[justkending]

Mr. & Mrs. Hunt (Bonus Chapter)

Mini-Series Summary: Two of the most stubborn people in the group partnered together for an undercover mission are also the two people with the most hatred for each other, so what could go wrong? Or is it, what COULDN’T go wrong?…

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger Reader (Enemies to Lovers) (Fake Marriage Trope)

Word Count: 3700+

A/N: I got some motivation for a bonus chapter and a lot of you guys reached out asking about some. So here is a cute little side story with the two! I hope you guys enjoy it while I take my time getting through all my other WIP!🥰

______________

Bucky’s POV: 

The mission yesterday was brutal for the team—so much so that Tony vogued for us and ensured we’d have the next two days without any form of work to interrupt our much-needed break. That meant we were off-duty, unless a world-ending turn of events came up, for the next 48 hours—starting the morning after we got home from said brutal mission. 

My first stop as soon as I got up and around was Y/N’s room. She had left the field yesterday more beat up than any of us after she was cornered and her backup had fled. Something I was royally pissed about, but it was some lower agent she was paired with to train. I offered, considering the kid was known for being squeamish, and it was originally meant to be a low-level operation. But apparently, someone with a gentler and friendlier disposition was preferred for the agent's training lesson. But of course, the tides turned, and Y/N was left on her own fighting off a dozen armed men, yet unsurprisingly, she came out on top. 

Although she claimed the various cuts, bruises, and pulled muscles in her quad were manageable, I knew she would be horribly sore today and, therefore, grumpy—understandably so. 

I thought I’d get a head start on helping her, considering things have grown between us since our first date two months ago. 

We hadn’t made it official, and we were taking it slow since there was so much to learn about each other after years of distancing ourselves from one another. 

We’ve had as many dates as time allowed since then, and the team has caught on, but again, we’re taking it slow. So slow, in fact that we kept to our respective rooms for personal space outside of movie nights, considering we lived together for almost a month and technically still do live together, even if across from the hall. We saw each other all the time, and we thought it best that we hold on to that piece of individuality at the start of our relationship so as not to rush anything. 

But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t find any chance I could to come hang out with her in her room and spend time with her as often as I could. I meant it back at the house when I said I envied my teammates for getting to experience a version of her that actually like you as a person. The change in pace has been eye-opening, and I’ve become somewhat addicted to the time I spend with her now. 

“One second!” I heard from the other side of the door after I knocked, and the tone alone showed me she was not happy. 

“I brought you some breakfast and pain meds, Y/N/N,” I said into the barrier. Seconds later, the door unlocked, and a battered Y/N looked up at me miserably. “Hey, sweetheart.” I couldn’t help the pout in my lip seeing my girl beat up. 

There was bruising under her eye, a butterfly stitch on her cheekbone, and a few bruises visible on her legs where she was wearing one of the biggest t-shirts she owned as a nightgown. 

“How bad does it look? I’ve been inching out of bed for the last 10 minutes because of how stiff I feel, and I haven’t made it to the bathroom to look,” she cringed as she rubbed the uninjured side of her face in exhaustion.

“You make black eyes look hot,” I answer, leaning to kiss the top of her head as I sneaked past her into the apartment and move to the kitchenette on the side. 

We all have a fully functioning studio apartment at the compound, but since we share the main spaces of the living room and kitchen, our personal ones are much smaller and more so for convenience than anything else. 

“Appreciate that, but also, I’d rather put on a sexy dress to look hot than get punched by a 250 lbs man with a mean right hook,” she sighed, shuffling to follow after me and sit at the end of her bed as she watched me plate a breakfast burrito and a fruit parfait. 

“Sexy dress or not, you exceed the threshold in the looking hot category no matter what.” I’m lucky enough to get a soft chuckle from her as she pulls a blanket from her bed and wraps it around her body, snuggling close to it with a few grunts and moans of pain. “Outside of that, I’m going to hunt down that twirp from yesterday and give him a nice talking-to about leaving your partner in the dust.” I look up and point to her with a spoon before stabbing it into the yogurt and bringing it to her. 

“Honestly, if I hadn’t seen worse, I would have run the other direction, too,” she wiggled an arm free to grab the cup and thanked me before continuing. “For it being one of their first onsite missions, seeing a dozen armed bodyguards, and not one of them being under 200 lbs running full force at you? I’d be surprised if he didn’t shit his pants on the way out.”

I laughed at the image since Y/N and I had seen far worse, and what she was describing was just another Tuesday to us. 

“Regardless, you don’t leave your teammates to fend for themselves. Especially in that scenario. He could have at least grabbed you and ran the other way,” I mumbled, grabbing my burrito from the counter and moving to sit with her on the bed. 

“Grabbed me and run?” she scoffed, swirling the fruit and granola together. “You’re a funny man, Barnes.” 

“You know what I mean,” I shoulder bump her lightly, and she sighs, digging into the breakfast. “Meds the Doc prescribed you are on the counter. You need to take them with food 2x a day to keep the pain at bay.”

“It’s fine. The pain is manag-”

“If you say manageable, I’m going to make you walk from this side of the room to your bathroom and prove you’re fine. Meaning, no cringing, limping, or grunts in the process.”

She stared at me in a challenging manner. That much had not changed in our relationship whatsoever. I just didn’t get death glares with them anymore.

“I can walk to my bathroom just fine,” she rolls her eyes, staying stationary and distracting herself with breakfast. 

“Sure you can,” I nodded, taking a bite of my own and keeping my eyes solely on her. 

I could tell she was growing squirmish under my gaze. The uncomfortability matched with uncertainty in her claim. I mean, come on. She gave it away that she wasn’t fine when she said it took her 10 minutes to ease out of bed. 

“Stop staring at me,” she grumbled, lazily eating to drag out her inevitable defeat. 

I hummed, standing and moving to grab some hot sauce in her cabinet. “Oh, by the way, the team’s doing a day of pool Olympics tomorrow. Sam’s asked for a rematch in chicken.”

“As long as I get a rematch in categories.”

“Yeah, I don’t think you’re going to be participating in the games much,” I scrunched my nose at her with a grin before taking a giant bite.

“By tomorrow, I’ll be back to new,” she groaned and stood up too fast, stilling herself, seeing she’d overdone it. But not wanting to get caught, she played it off as stretching and taking her time. “I have an above-average healing rate, after all.” 

“Maybe, but not nearly as fast as I’d prefer,” I placed the meal back on my plate and wiped my hands off on a towel before coming to her side to help her take some weight off her bad leg.

“As you’d prefer? Please do elaborate on what you’d prefer, Sarge?” The cockiness in her voice made me look down at her and grin at her orneryness. 

“You know I’d prefer you wrapped up in bubble wrap and in a magic forcefield the rest of your life that keeps you out of harm's way. I’ve never liked seeing you hurt or in pain. But unfortunately, due to realism and already trying to do that with Steve, I know it's not attainable,” I answered, both hands on her shoulders. Now, let me take this.” I quickly grabbed the parfait and placed it on the counter before offering my arm. 

“I can walk to the bathroom on my own.”

“Standing showed me otherwise.”

“Are you going to hold my hand while I pee too?” 

“If you asked me, I 100% would. But knowing you, you’re a little too stubborn for that,” I winked as she walked with more weight on me than she’d care to confess. 

“Just a little,” she grunts when she loses her footing, and I catch her. 

“Hm, about that help…”

“Shut it,” she mumbles and shuts the door behind her as she gets ready for the day.

_______________

“Where’s Y/N at?” Wanda asked, meeting me in the hall and following after me. 

“Med bay. I made her go get a check-up with Banner since she’s hellbent on playing in the water games tomorrow,” I answered once she was by my side, my stride slowing so she could catch up. 

“Do you think she’ll actually listen to anything he says if he doesn’t give her the all-clear?” she asked with a laugh. 

“Doubtful, but I can be hopeful.”

“Things are going well for you two then, huh?” I could hear the grin in her voice before I looked down at her. “Crazy to think, considering just a few months ago, I wouldn’t hold it against her to have your head on a plaque hanging in her room just because you looked at her wrong.”

“Crazy the things a little communication can do,” I winked and threw an arm around her shoulders before squeezing her into my side. “That and patience. Lots and lots of patience.” 

“You do have a surprising amount of that stuff in ya, big guy,” she patted my chest as we turned to the hall where Y/N was. 

“Ow, son of a bitch!” sounded from the corner of Banner’s office, and we shared a look. “Obviously, that isn’t going to feel good, injured or not, Bruce!” 

“May need to save his ass,” Wanda whispered, and we hurried our steps to the space. 

Inside, Bruce was laughing as he logged in her symptoms and any other notes doctors take in these instances. 

“Just proving to you that playing any high-impact sports, which are almost any of the ones that include the team, isn’t going to help the healing process,” he told her as she rubbed her thigh with the heel of her hand. 

“Sam told me he doesn’t plan on holding back,” Wanda cut in just as I saw Y/N rearing up to retort something to the scientist. “Something about revenge for the last time we held a water Olympics.” 

“Empty threats,” Y/N sighed, turning to me. I was still getting used to the fact that I caused her body to ease tension rather than create it now. “Banner gave me the all clear,” she says to me in a very convincing way... If I wasn’t a trained spy. 

“I did not,” Bruce was quick to turn and shake his head.

“Don’t listen to him. He doesn’t even know what a vastus lateralis is!” she pointed and thought about hopping off the medical table she was on but realized the fast movement would only prove Banner’s point. 

“Um, I very much do know what the vastus lateralis is, considering I just told you you strained yours, and it needs to heal fully before you take on any high-mobility actions. You’re the one who asked if it was a witch incantation,” Bruce pointed a pen at her and moved back to his floating screens. 

“Can confirm it is not a witch incantation,” Wanda spoke up, moving to Y/N’s side by the medical equipment table and started playing with the tools. 

“Who’s side are you on?” she furrowed her eyes at the redhead, and I moved to lean on the table next to her, my thigh touching her knees hanging over the edge of the stainless steel. “I really think he’s exaggerating. I can walk on it and everything just fine.” 

Her eyes are leveled with mine while she’s sat higher up, and she gives me pathetic puppy dog eyes like it’ll sway me. And it almost does, but I cup her face in between my hands and squeeze so that her lips are pursed. 

“Nice try. Not going to work on me, doll,” I grin and kiss her nose before turning back to Banner. “How long are we talking about being fully healed? I don’t know how much more gaslighting I can take about her pain level.” I get a swift smack to my shoulder, but it barely stings. I grab her uninjured leg and squeeze her kneecap as she leans on my shoulder for support. 

“With her enhanced healing, I’d give it about three to five days before it’s healed enough for training or anything else. For any other normal person, it would be about a six-week process. Count yourself lucky,” Banner answers, only looking back for a second. 

“Still bullshit,” she grumbles and fidgets with the sleeve of my t-shirt. “So are you saying I have to be a bystander for tomorrow’s games?” 

“And quite possibly be benched for the coming week. Meaning no more missions until you’re given the all clear,” Banner turns around at his last statement. 

“Wait, what?!” 

“You heard me. You just don’t like what you heard,” he smirks. 

“I don’t quite like you right now, Bruce…” she says lowly, collapsing her head on my shoulder and groaning. 

“Don’t worry,” I turn and offer a hand for her to get down, which she stares at and reluctantly hops down. “I’ll make sure to kick Sam’s ass for you tomorrow in place of you. You know it’d be more than an honor for me.” 

“I fear he may kill him,” Wanda adds, walking to the other side of Y/N. 

“Compared to what I was planning, it would be a mercy.” 

____________

Y/N’s POV

To say I was pissed about the current circumstances would be putting it lightly. I hate being benched, and like anyone, I hate being injured. 

Call it past trauma I may never fully grow out of, but being the weak link made me anxious and antsy. It was like being the runt in a litter of pigs. It can’t fend for itself and tends to meet the slaughterhouse sooner than its friends. 

All that to say, I didn’t take help well while in this state either. But for some odd reason, Bucky’s aid wasn’t unwelcomed. 

Did I give him a hard time? Hard not to. Did he laugh it off and match my energy? 1000%, and I couldn’t be more thankful. It’s made this a touch more bearable, knowing he doesn’t pity me or see me as a weakling but just wants to help get me back to my best. 

And 3-5 days is doable, considering the alternative was over a month…

“Did you take your meds?” Bucky asked, letting himself into my room after a long day. Thankfully, we had another day of resting and for me, it looked like a week of resting. 

“Taken and pumping through my veins,” I give him a thumbs up as I lazily scroll through the streaming services as we set up for a lowkey movie night. “Are these the loopy kinds?” 

“Most opiates are, unfortunately,” he chuckles, placing the take-out bags he had grabbed downstairs on the coffee table. “What time did you take them?

He pulls out his phone and goes to the notes app. I know he has been making detailed notes on my meds, pain levels, doctor’s visits, and any other ailments I complain about. It’s really sweet, and surprisingly, I don’t find it overbearing like I thought I would. It’s nice having someone look out for you in a genuine way. 

“About ten minutes ago, so 6:30,” I pat the seat beside me. “Come on. I need your decisiveness on what movie we should watch tonight.”

He laughed while typing the details into his phone before putting it on the table, sitting next to me, opening the bags, and creating a nice little family buffet of Thai food in front of us. 

I watched him as I had become fond of these last few months. When I see him do the things he does for others and me, I internally punch myself for letting hatred keep me from such a man this long. 

“Question,” I asked, and he hummed, handing me a carton of low mein and grilled chicken. He stabbed two chopsticks into the food, and turned back for his own before leaning back and relaxing finally. “If things were different. If you never had to enlist for the war… What would have done for yourself?” 

“You mean like…”

“What job field would you have gone into?”

He nods his head as he considers the question and takes a large bite of pad thai. 

“I’m not sure… I don’t think I’ve ever really considered it. Especially since war has always been a thing, and given the era I was born into, I had just accepted I was going to be thrown into the military at some point.” 

“Well, that’s sad,” I crinkled my nose and the ache from my black eye had dulled thanks to my faster healing. “You didn’t consider any other paths?” 

“I mean, not realistic ones. I probably would have gone into business of some kind. Sales, maybe?” he said more as a question and poked around at his food. “I doubt anything that would have brought me true joy.” 

“Ok, then. What about now? If things were different, and you had complete freedom to live a normal life, like Beau Hunt,” I nudged him, and he laughed, leaning closer to me on the couch. “What career would you choose?” 

He thought about it, looking down at his food and then at the wall ahead of him. 

“If you’re asking me about today? As in this very moment?” 

“I am.”

“I’d say a chef.” 

I paused, not 100% prepared for that answer, but also not shocked by it. I didn’t reply instantly and felt him turn his gaze to me. 

“Didn’t expect that?” he asks. 

“Just imagining it,” I grinned, digging back into my cardboard carton as I pictured the dreamboat of a man next to me in an episode of The Bear. “I like it.” 

“Think I can get a Michelin-star type of restaurant going?” he hummed, a grin evident in his voice. 

“I don’t think that would be your scene. I could see you in a cool, locally owned, and homey restaurant. A staple piece in Brooklyn where everyone would come from all over to have the best comfort food the city would offer,” I smile at him, scooting down in my seat so I can rest my head on his shoulder.  

His head rested on top of mine after a quick kiss to the top of it. I treasured learning he actually loved showing affection in public, especially in the sweet and wholesome ways he went about it. 

“I can see that much more than what I said,” he laughed, and his body vibrated with the sound. “What about you? Different career choice, what would you choose?” 

“Hmm,” I snuggled more into him as I ate, and the screen on my TV went to screensaver mode. “I think something in social work. Given the things I’ve seen in the world, I’d be able to help kids in dangerous situations and homes get out of it.” He hums and chuckles some, making me look up at him. “What’s so funny about that?” 

“Not funny, just,” he chuckles again and looks at me from the side. “Of course, you’d want to go into the world and make a difference in it while I hole myself up in one spot and do background work for a living. In other words, the less I have to deal with people up front, the better, and the more people you can confront, the better.” 

“You’re a social person,” I laughed, sticking my chopsticks into his container for a taste. “I mean, you’re a better people person than you think.” 

“I have to build that relationship with people before I can become a ‘people person’. On the other hand, you can walk up to a stranger on the street and insert yourself into their life without hesitation.” 

“Maybe. But I also understand not wanting to do those things just cause it’s not your scene. I think our fake imaginary jobs are perfect for us.” 

“I was always envious that I wasn’t one of those people you approached and welcomed in,” he says, but not with annoyance and hurt, just stating a fact. 

“I was an asshole who allowed her backstory to control the present life she had made for herself. I wasn't too proud of that version of myself.”

Bucky turned his body to me, and I sat up. 

“As upset as I was about not getting the friendly treatment you gave to others, I’m happy to say I get to experience it now compared to never at all.” 

I stared into the blue eyes I knew would be my downfall as soon as I saw him for the first time. 

“Who knew force proximity would have this outcome?” 

“Not Nat or Tony. Oh, by the way, did I tell you Tony was in on the deal, too? Gave it three days and lost all his money before he even had a chance.” 

“Serves him right, betting on people’s downfall,” I nuzzled back into the couch as Bucky got comfortable again. “Speaking of… Wanna make a bet on how many games I can make Sam lose without even participating in the games?” 

“I will never not bet to see Sam lose. But I think I can beat you out on that deal, considering I will be in the games.”

“You’d like to think, wouldn’t you?” 

“Is that a challenge?” 

“A challenge would mean I have to have competition. That won’t be the case tomorrow,” I leaned forward, grabbing the remote from him and placing a soft kiss on his lips. 

“You’re much appreciated PDA isn’t going to make me take it any easier on you.” 

“No, no, no. We wouldn’t want that.”  

He laughed and leaned in for another kiss. The TV in front of us forgotten.

Marvel Tags:

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Bucky Barnes Tags:

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Mr. & Mrs. Hunt Series: (TAGS CLOSED)

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[lividstar]

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.

[steddieas-shegoes]

this place is such great motivation for anyone trying to move the fuck away from hibernation

chapter 8: i'm homesick also on ao3 all chapters masterpost rated e

🧰🧰🧰🧰🧰🧰🧰🧰🧰🧰🧰🧰🧰🧰🧰🧰

Eddie woke up to drool.

Which should probably be more concerning, but considering he had a teething baby, he was used to a little drool.

The part that was confusing was that his baby was asleep in her crib in the bedroom next to him.

The drool on his chest was Steve’s.

Oh, he would never live this down.

Eddie let his fingers ghost through the strands of Steve’s hair, glancing at the clock to see that it was nearly seven in the morning. They were supposed to call the realtor at eight.

Eddie needed to be on the road by lunch so that Mia would nap for most of the ride back to Hawkins.

The urge to ignore all of that was strong, but they couldn’t ignore their future. Not now that it seemed like they might have a chance.

“Stevie, it appears there’s a leak in the apartment,” Eddie said softly, not wanting to startle him.

Steve’s head shifted, his nose rubbing against the drool on Eddie’s chest followed by a groan.

“Disgusting,” Steve said. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine. You sleep okay?” Eddie tightened his arms around Steve, not wanting to lose this moment quite yet.

“Yeah. Loved this,” Steve poked his side and kissed his chest. “Could definitely get used to this.”

“Well, if we don’t get to the showing, we may not have it anytime soon.” Eddie nudged Steve off of him so he could get up. “Mia must still be asleep so I’m gonna take a quick shower before she decides to bless us with her presence.”

“No rush, baby. I got her if she wakes up.”

Eddie kissed Steve’s forehead. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

When Eddie walked into the kitchen, fully dressed and halfway packed already, Robin was sitting at the table holding Mia while Steve cut up fruit at the counter.

“My goodness, Mia, it looks like you’ve made a new best friend,” Eddie said as he kissed the top of her head.

“Dada!”

Steve dropped the knife in his hand and turned to them. Robin’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head as she looked between Mia and Eddie.

Eddie was pretty sure his heart was on the floor.

“Did she just-“ Robin started to ask, only to be interrupted by Mia kicking and yelling it again.

“Dadadadadada!” Mia squealed out.

“Yeah, I’m dada,” Eddie said, scooping her into his arms and spinning her around.

“Mama! Dada!” She exclaimed. He could feel Steve come up behind him and watched his hand go to her back, covering his own.

“Someone’s so talkative this morning,” Steve said. “You were so excited to see your dada, weren’t you?”

“Dada! Dada!”

Eddie was crying, Steve was crying, even Robin was trying to hide a tear that slipped out as Mia kept repeating her new word.

Steve kissed his cheek, then Mia’s, before going back to what he was doing.

"So what time are you going to the house?” Robin asked them.

Eddie looked away from Mia to look at the clock. “Hopefully within the next hour. We gotta try to get on the road.”

Robin nodded once. “I’m off to work. I’m glad you came to visit, Eddie. And I’m glad I got to get to know Mia. She’s probably my favorite future roommate.”

“Yeah, right. Until she cries all night from a fever,” Eddie rolled his eyes. “Or until she takes up all of Steve’s attention.”

“Oh, I’ve been begging for someone to take up some of his attention. He’s very needy, ya know.” She gave Eddie a quick side hug and touched Mia’s shoulder. “You guys be safe going back and make sure you call when you get home so I don’t have to watch Steve pace a hole into the carpet.”

“I wouldn’t do that!” Steve said as he moved fruit he’d been cutting up onto the high chair tray.

“Uh huh.” Robin grabbed her small purse from the hook by the doorway out of the kitchen. “See you guys!”

“See ya!” Steve and Eddie called at the same time.

“Buh!” Mia yelled out.

“I cannot believe you finally said it,” Eddie said to Mia in awe as he set her in the high chair. “I’ve been waiting for you to finally say Dada for two months and you decide to do it here.”

Steve set a plate of toast in front of Eddie and kissed the top of his head. “I’m gonna go shower so we can head out. Eat.”

“Sir, yes, sir.” Eddie saluted. Mia let out a laugh as Steve rolled his eyes and walked out of the kitchen. “Alright, princess. We’ve gotta eat up so we can be big and strong and walk around this house that we might move into.”

“Mama?” Mia turned her head to look for Steve, then looked back at Eddie with a frown. “Mama.”

“Mama’s in the bath. He’ll be right back. You eat your bananas and grapes.”

When Steve was done, Eddie went to finish packing up the last of their things, looking around at the place he’d hoped would be their new home. He couldn’t help feeling a sense of loss still, even knowing that they were working on finding a new home for all of them. He’d wanted this to work so badly.

“You ready, baby?” Steve asked from the door, holding Mia in one arm, diaper bag slung over the other shoulder.

“Yeah. Are you?”

“Sure am.”

******

The house was perfect.

Eddie felt like crying the moment he stepped onto the front porch. Even with the broken parts, even with the chipped paint along one side of the house, even with the slightly overgrown front yard, it was perfect.

The inside was even better, already mostly done in the ways he’d always imagined a house with Mia to be. The bathroom that needed work was still better than the one he currently had in the trailer.

The backyard needed to be fenced in, but he knew they could work on that over the next year before Mia was big enough to outrun them.

He kept sharing looks with Steve, going room to room as the realtor spoke about the natural lighting in the bedrooms and double sink in the master bathroom. They hadn’t made it obvious they were together— they weren’t stupid —but it was pretty clear the realtor caught on to them being together.

“You mentioned another person moving in?” she asked when they got to the last bedroom.

“Yes, my best friend would be moving in for a bit to help with the bills,” Steve offered. “Is that a problem?”

“Not at all. Quite a few homes surrounding the city are mixed family homes just due to the cost of living. My only suggestion is to keep all utilities in your name so that if they move out, it doesn’t become a hassle of removing them from everything.” She opened the door to the final bedroom. “I assume this would probably be their room. It looks out at the backyard and the street behind you, which is still a part of this neighborhood and isn’t a very busy road.”

“Yeah, she’ll like this room.” Steve smiled. “And you mentioned the current owners are already moving out next week?”

“Yes, they’ve already bought another home in the city. As you can imagine, that’s quite a financial strain and they’re very willing to get a deal done as soon as possible, even if it means a lower offer.”

“Could we have a minute?” Steve asked. The realtor nodded and left the room, closing the door behind her. Steve turned to Eddie, who was setting Mia down on the floor to explore. “So?”

“It’s perfect, Stevie.”

Steve closed the distance between them, wrapped his arms around Eddie’s waist, and kissed him softly. “It is, isn’t it?”

Eddie nodded, brushing the hair away from Steve’s face. “I can picture everything here. I see you setting up a sprinkler in the backyard and running through it with Mia. I see us having family game night at the kitchen table. I see us sitting on the porch while Mia draws on the driveway with chalk. I see it all.”

“Me too. I want all that with you. Here. Can we?”

“We should. Do you think we can make an offer today?” Eddie turned to see Mia trying to pull herself up by the window ledge. “Maybe by the time I get back to Hawkins, we’ll have an answer.”

“Yeah, Eds. I’ll go tell her.”

“We’re really doing this?” Eddie was hesitant to truly believe this was happening, especially after how quickly the weekend had turned into an unknown future. “We’re buying a house?”

“We’re buying this house.”

“Wayne’s gonna be insufferable. I’m gonna have to listen to him talk about the foundation’s integrity for the next three months.”

“It’s already been inspected. I promise, it passed.”

“It may have passed with a professional. It has not passed with Wayne.”

Steve snorted. “Well, he can come inspect anytime. He can have a copy of the key, even.”

“Don’t offer that. He has the worst timing in the world.” Eddie glanced over to Mia, who was now standing at the window, banging the ledge as she used it to hold her weight. “Mia seems to like it here.”

Steve looked over and smiled. “Yeah, she looks happy. Do you think you’d be happy here? With me?”

“I know I would be, sweetheart.”

“We’re buying this house?”

“We’re buying this house.”

“Mia, you like your new castle?” Eddie asked Mia, who looked over at them and quickly lost her balance, falling on her butt with a grunt.

“Dada! Mama!” She started to crawl back to them with a big smile.

They both sat down on the carpet and waited for her to get to them. Mia climbed into Steve’s lap, tugging his shirt until she was situated comfortably on his thigh.

“You like this place, little one?” Steve asked her, kissing the top of her forehead.

Eddie watched as Mia clapped her hands together and smiled up at Steve.

“I think that’s a yes,” he said quietly.

“I think so too,” Steve stole a quick kiss from Eddie before lifting Mia into his arms and standing up. “Let’s go buy this house.”

It seemed kind of crazy to Eddie how simple this turned out to be. He half expected them to find flaws in the house, or disagree on the cost, or the realtor deciding she didn’t want to work with queers.

But maybe he finally deserved something simple. Maybe they all did.

******

The goodbyes weren’t as difficult now, the certainty of this being temporary enough to keep the tears from falling, at least until Mia was in her carseat in the van and Eddie was backing out of the driveway of their future home.

Steve was sticking around to discuss the boring part of it all with the realtor, and hopefully, by the time Eddie and Mia made it back to Hawkins, they’d have an accepted offer and paperwork to sign.

Eddie would have to come back to sign everything once it was drafted up at the bank and with the insurance company, but he would make it work.

Mia babbled a bit in the backseat while Eddie sang along quietly to his Iron Maiden tape. She eventually got quiet, and Eddie glanced at the mirror he had facing her to see that she was asleep.

He let his mind wander to the future, to everything he and Steve would be able to do in their own place. He thought about Mia having her own room, a backyard that she could run around in, easy access to a city that she could be herself in, whatever that may be. He wondered if Robin would live with them for a while or just while they figured everything out.

He even pictured a day where they could have more kids, give Mia a brother or sister or both, and take family pictures to hang up in frames on the walls of their house.

It wasn’t easy for him to picture his life like this before; He’d never had any reason to believe he’d have the picket fence version of life that so many people seemed to have. He’d always been okay with it, at least until Mia came into his life. Even then, he figured as long as she was fed, clothed, and had a roof over her head, he’d be happy.

But now that he had a taste of this kind of life, now that he saw the house he’d get to raise Mia in, he knew this was what he’d always wanted.

“Can’t believe Steve Harrington got to me like this,” he shook his head fondly.

*******

Wayne greeted him at the door, immediately taking Mia’s carseat from his hands and going inside.

“Nice to see you, too,” Eddie grumbled, walking back to the van to grab their bags.

“Oh, hush. You know I’m happy to see ya, too,” Wayne said over his shoulder.

Eddie smiled. “Steve call?”

“He may have.” The screen door closed before he could get more information.

“Dammit,” Eddie rushed to grab the bags and get inside.

“What did he say?” Eddie dropped the bags on the floor unceremoniously, going to the kitchen to call him back.

Mia was babbling in Wayne’s arms as he joined Eddie in the kitchen.

“Dada!”

Wayne’s jaw dropped.

“Oh! She learned a new word. Said it this morning and I cried and decided to give her anything she wants for the rest of my life.” Eddie smiled at Mia. “What did Steve say?”

“Well, first of all, he said to call him when you get back.” Wayne reached out for the rice snacks on the counter to hand one to Mia. “And then he said your offer was accepted by the owners.”

Eddie felt tears welling up in his eyes. “Really? Already?”

Wayne walked over to him, tears already gathering up in his eyes, too. “Yeah, son. Looks like you’re gonna be a homeowner.”

“Holy shit.”

“Sh! Sh!” Mia couldn’t quite make the right ‘sh’ noise, but it was close enough for Wayne and Eddie’s eyes to widen.

“Looks like ya might have to start watchin’ your mouth around the princess. Seems she’s reached her mimic stage a bit early,” Wayne laughed. “Your dada’s been sayin’ bad words since he was eight. Don’t let him fool ya.”

“Alright, alright. I’m gonna call Steve back and then it’s time for Mia to have some dinner and a bath and a bedtime story.”

“Mama!” Mia turned her head around at Steve’s name, clearly searching for him.

“Mama’s not here, baby. Sorry. But I’m gonna call him and you can say hi, okay?” Eddie picked up the phone and dialed Steve’s number from memory. He took Mia in his arms and sat down at the table as he waited for Steve to answer.

“Hello?”

“Mama! Mama! Dada!” Mia started clapping the moment she heard Steve’s voice through the phone.

Steve laughed. “Hi there princess. I miss you already. Are you being good?”

“Mama. Ma. Mamamamama!”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Steve snorted. “Did Wayne tell you the good news?”

“He did.” Eddie smiled into the phone even though Steve couldn’t see it. “What do we do now?”

“The next part is kinda out of our hands. The realtor has to work with the bank to get the papers done properly and then when they’ve gotten that done, we’ll both have to sign everything.”

“When do they think that’ll be?” Eddie let Mia sit in front of him on the table, one hand holding her side so she wouldn’t fall. “I don’t know if I could get back there before next weekend.”

“Yeah, I mentioned that to them. They said it would probably take at least 14 days to have the closing paperwork done. And they also said we didn’t have to go together, so I could go sign when it’s ready and then you can go sign the first chance you get.”

“I wanna do it with you, though. It’s a big deal. Our first house.” Eddie’s eyes widened. “Holy shit, our first house. We’re buying a house.”

“Sh!” Mia copied, grinning up at her dad.

“No, Mia, not that. God, Mia’s trying to say bad words before she even says Papa or anything. Okay.” He sighed. “So I can just make sure my boss knows in about two weeks I’ll probably have to take a day off to drive there and sign.”

“He won’t fire you or anything, right?” It sounded like Steve was in his kitchen, cooking dinner for him and Robin. “If he finds out you’re moving?”

“No. I already mentioned to him it was a possibility and that I’d be grateful for any recommendation he could give me on a job search.”

“Good. Just don’t want you to be without a job.”

Mia started playing with a strand of Eddie’s hair, tugging on it lightly. He knew it would get rougher if he didn’t distract her, though. He held up the cord of the phone in front of her and showed her how it coiled.

“I won’t be.” Eddie sighed. “I miss you already.”

“Oh for heaven’s sake,” Wayne grumbled before leaving the room.

“I miss you too. You okay?” Steve sounded genuinely concerned, almost like he’d be willing to drive to Hawkins if Eddie’s answer was no.

“I’m alright. I’m actually-“ Eddie laughed. “I think this is maybe the best I’ve ever been. Other than the missing you part, but that’s just for now. Like, within the next month or two, I’ll be with you all the time. And Mia can have us both all the time.”

“Yeah,” he could hear the grin in Steve’s voice. “I can’t wait to share a home with you. Did you tell Wayne about it yet?”

“No, called you almost as soon as I got in the door. He can hear all about it later.” Mia tapped Eddie’s cheek. “Mia’s gonna love having her own kingdom to rule over.”

“I’m sure she will. I already stopped by the store to look at paint samples for her room,” Steve admitted. “I didn’t think pink fit her, but there was a nice lavender that might look nice on one wall.”

“I’ll let you handle that stuff. Maybe she can pick from a few options. Would you like that, Mia?” Eddie poked her nose and smiled when she giggled. “I bet you’d pick something so colorful it hurts our eyes.”

“Dada.” Eddie waited to see if she did anything, but she didn’t.

“Okay, I’m gonna go get some dinner into Mia’s system. You want me to call you when she goes to bed?” Eddie asked.

“How about I call you after I talk to Robin?” Steve offered.

“Sure, just not too late. Wayne’ll be going to bed soon, too.”

“Should be by nine, baby,” Steve’s voice changed to something softer. “You know I love you more than anything, right? I’m so fuckin’ happy I get to do this with you.”

“I know, sweetheart. I love you so much. This is more than I could’ve ever dreamed of for us,” Eddie said quietly, watching as Mia grabbed his hair again. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Later.”

Eddie hung up the phone and started to get Mia’s dinner ready. Wayne had already been making something for them before they got home, some chicken and green beans that could easily be cut up for Mia. He set her in the high chair and started passing some of the cooled off and cut up green beans.

“Are they yummy, Mia?” He asked as she shoved a piece into her mouth.

“Me.”

“Yummy!” Eddie nodded. “We love when Wayne makes green beans, don’t we?”

“Suckin’ up to your old man, now?” Wayne asked he walked in. He stood next to Eddie and started shredding a piece of chicken for Mia. “I already gave my blessing to move. Not sure why ya feel like bein’ so nice.”

Eddie nudged his shoulder. “Maybe I’m just appreciating you before I don’t have you helpin’ me out all the time.”

Wayne froze for a moment, just enough to make Eddie pause in his movements, too.

“Steve’s gonna make sure you have a key to the house. You’re welcome anytime,” Eddie continued. “And we could definitely use some help fixing up some things if you’re willing to.”

“Always here to help ya, son. You know movin’ away won’t get rid of me.”

Eddie bit back a complicated set of emotions, most of which would result in tears, possibly for both of them.

“We’ll visit you here, too.”

“Well…’bout that.” Wayne walked over to the high chair and put a few of the pieces of chicken down. “I been talkin’ to my buddy in Ohio. You remember Benny?”

“Uh-huh.”

“He’s been thinkin’ about movin’ to Illinois to be closer to his sister’s family. Her husband died last year and she could use the help with her kids, but he didn’t wanna move in with them. He’s lookin’ for someone to share rent with and I kinda offered to go.” Wayne rubbed the back of his head. “Be closer to ya at your new place, too. Figured I can probably get a job anywhere with my mechanic skills.”

“Wayne, that’s great. Seriously, can’t believe you’re gonna leave this place!” Eddie got more excited the more he realized this was all working out perfectly.

“Yeah, well. Don’t think this town’s got much more for me in it if you two ain’t here.”

“I’ll drink to that. We are the best parts of this place.”

*******

Two weeks flew by, but the paperwork wasn’t quite finished when they’d hoped.

“It’s normal for delays to happen,” Steve reminded Eddie over the phone when he was starting to worry that something would fall through.

“I just don’t want there to be any problems. Like, what if the bank decides they don’t wanna provide a loan to us? What if they figure out we’re romantically involved and decide they don’t wanna do business with us?”

“Baby, that’s not gonna happen at this point. It’s our house, okay? We just have to be patient.”

*******

Another week passed, and Eddie was starting to worry that the house would never be theirs.

Steve reassured him it was fine, that he’d been in contact with everyone nearly every day and everyone remained positive that this would be closed soon.

Eddie was on edge at work, on edge at home, on edge when he visited with the Hendersons.

He knew it, wanted to be able to brush it off, but couldn’t. The stress was eating away at him until he was barely sleeping.

But finally, on day 26, Steve called him at work.

“Baby.” He could hear the tears in Steve’s voice, instantly making him choke up. “It’s done. You just have to come sign everything.”

“It’s done?” Eddie turned away from the secretary at the desk for even the smallest amount of privacy. “It’s ours?”

“It is.”

Eddie turned and yelled to the entire lobby: “I’m a homeowner!”

He could hear Steve laughing on the other end, giddy with the news.

“Shit, we’re homeowners. Please tell me you know how to clean gutters,” Eddie said into the phone.

“I can figure it out,” Steve snorted. “You think you can come up tomorrow to sign everything?”

“Wayne works tomorrow so he wouldn’t be able to watch Mia,” Eddie groaned.

“Bring Mia. We can do this as a family,” Steve said.

“She might get fussy if she gets bored,” Eddie said. She’d been itching to try to walk for the last week or so, and any time anyone held her for longer than a couple minutes, she would whine and push away from them. “And I don’t think they’d be cool with her crawling around their office and getting into things.”

“We can take turns handling it. That’s why we have each other, baby. I’m here for both of you now.”

“I-“ Eddie was doing his best not to cry in the lobby of his workplace. “I know, Stevie. I can be there tomorrow. We can be there tomorrow.”

“If you can get here before lunch, maybe I can take you both over to see Maryann and Charlie. They’d love to see you again.”

“Oh, I know. They call once a week asking for updates from me because they don’t trust you to tell him if anything bad happens.” Eddie looked over his shoulder at the shop, sighing. “I gotta get back to work. Two cars just pulled in and we’re already running on one less employee this week. I’ll call you tonight to let you know when to expect us tomorrow.”

“Sounds good, love. Love you.”

“Love you.”

He hung up the phone and went back to work.

Tomorrow, he’d officially own a home with Steve.

Tomorrow, he’d get to start living a future he’d only ever dreamed of having.

Tomorrow, he’d make another step in making sure Mia had a family to love her and care for her.

Tomorrow, he’d get to leave the home he never thought he would.

Tomorrow was a fresh start and tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.

[endless-summer-soldier]

cruel to be kind - chapter six

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (90s college AU)

summary: it started with a dare. Bucky restlessly pursues Y/N, seeking just one date. as he chases her, he realizes she's different from she challenges him, so he starts to catch feelings. but it all falls apart when she learns about his initial motivations. based on 10 things I hate about you!

warnings: alcohol use, cursing

word count: 1.5k

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Y/N sat on a baja blanket, staring out into the ocean, wondering if he would come. Sam confirmed he was able to sneak Bucky the mixtape, but Y/N wasn’t sure that he had decoded her message. On the tracklist, she underlined different letters and numbers that read “Sat 2PM 7th St Beach.” It was subtle, which was her style, but she wasn’t even sure he would figure it out. Hell, he might not even have noticed the pattern. In her mind, it was almost like a test. If he didn’t decode the message, then things weren’t meant to be. 

She eyed the book sitting in her lap, willing herself to at least try to read to distract her mind. But everytime she finished a page, she checked her watch to see what time it was. It was now 1:56 and the weight residing in her stomach grew heavier. Who was she kidding, he wasn’t going to show up. This whole thing was stupid and she was kicking herself for ever thinking it was a good idea. She hated this feeling. This was why she pushed people away. Being vulnerable was the easiest way to get hurt. 

And now a tear was falling down her cheek. She was so in her head about things that she was crying. She quickly wiped the single tear off her cheek and laid back on the blanket, placing the open book over her face. She had to get her shit together. She would not be the girl crying over a guy. Y/N took in a deep inhale and breathed out of her mouth, calming her nervous system. The oxygen was all she needed to clear her head. Her decision was made.

She stood in the sand and tossed her book in her bag. She folded up her blanket and collected her sandals, trudging through the sand to the boardwalk.

“Don’t tell me you’re leaving already. I’m only a few minutes late, and for good reason.” Bucky stood in front of her, in his signature leather jacket, with two cups of coffee in his hands.

“What are you doing here,” she stated more than asked, adding a few more bricks to the wall that was guarding her heart.

“I got your message,” he smiled. He walked closer towards her and handed her a cup of coffee. “Figured we had some catching up to do,” he added.

She stood there, still processing this. He came. He figured out the message and he showed up. He passed the test. She hadn’t really thought through what would actually happen if he came. And now here he was, standing in front of her.

Before she could respond, Bucky stepped closer, taking the blanket out of her hands and splaying it out over the sand.

“Come on,” he urged her. She didn’t object, sitting down next to him as they looked out onto the ocean.

“I’ve never heard you this quiet before. You usually have a biting remark queued up as soon as you see me.”

“I do not,” she argued.

“See, that’s better already,” he joked, giving her shoulder a light nudge.

“I didn’t think you would come,” she admitted.

“You didn’t think I would come or you didn’t think I would decode your message?”

 “The latter is probably a bit more accurate,” she said sheepishly.

“I know it may seem like I’m just a pretty face, but I’ve been known to have clever thoughts every so often.”

His attempts at getting her to loosen up were moderately successful, but she still wasn’t willing to open up just yet. Luckily, Bucky had planned for this. He knew this conversation would take some work.

“Are you happy to see me here?” he asked.

She let out a sigh, “I am. I hate to admit this, but I missed you these past few weeks.”

Bucky placed a hand over his heart, “You missed me?”

She hit his bicep with the back of her hand, “Don’t make me say it again.”

“I missed you too. And all I wanted was to talk to you and explain things. So thank you for giving me the opportunity to do that.”

She merely nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“So let me start by admitting that I am a complete idiot and I probably don’t even deserve a second chance, but I appreciate you giving me a chance to redeem myself.”

“Good start,” she commented.

“I agreed to the dare just to get Zemo to shut up. And I think the only reason I really went for it is because you intrigued me. I always found you attractive but I never pursued you because…well honestly you don’t come across as very friendly.”

Y/N chuckled and he continued.

“And then when I first talked to you, it was like I had this need for you to like me. I wanted to figure out what made you tick, and the more time I spent with you, the more I liked you. I need you to know that everything I said was true and that the person you spent all that time with was the real me. The dare just gave me a reason to talk to you. These past few weeks I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I haven’t been eating, I’ve barely slept, knowing that I hurt you has been killing me. I can promise you, I will never hurt you again. I think I might be in love with you, and this is the first time I’ve ever felt this way so I’m still figuring it all out, but I will do anything to win you back. I’ll bring you breakfast every morning, I will carry all your books and walk you to class every day, I will give you my car. Whatever you need, I’ll do it. Just please, give me another chance.”

She was quiet for a second, processing his words. 

“Could you, like, say something?” he asked nervously, struggling to read her expression.

“I’m thinking,” she responded. “Did you rehearse that?”

He was confused by her question, but answered anyway. “I mean I had points I wanted to hit on. I think I may have strayed a little bit towards the middle but I think I ended strong.”

She gave him a small smile, “Do you really mean it all or are you just telling me what I want to hear?”

He took her hand, “Y/N, I’m not here to bullshit you. I mean every single word. You are the world to me.”

“You used the l-word,” she commented. Bucky found it cute that she couldn’t say love. 

“Yeah I wasn’t planning on saying that, but it’s true. I do love you.” He ran his thumb up and down the back of her hand. She was quiet again, thinking through her response. She never took this long to respond, usually she went with whatever popped into her head. Bucky took her hand and placed it to his chest. “Do you feel that? How fast my heart is beating? It gets like that every time I’m around you. And my stomach always feels like there’s a million butterflies fluttering around in there. You do that to me.”

“I love you too.” It fell off her lips so easily, Bucky thought he must have misheard. 

“You do?” he asked in disbelief. She bit her bottom lip and shyly nodded her head, trying to hide the smile on her lips. He lost control. He lunged at her, essentially tackling her down onto the blanket as he squeezed her into a tight hug. When he pulled away ever so slightly, his face hovered above hers. 

“Are you gonna let me kiss you?” he asked. She simply nodded and his lips were on hers, making up for their lost time. It almost scared her, how easily she fell back into the kiss. Her hand found his jaw as she held him close, not wanting him to leave her vicinity. This was the moment she’d been waiting for and it didn’t disappoint. The spark was there, the longing was there, the love was there. And in that moment she knew that she never wanted to be without him.

They kissed and cuddled for a while and then they sat there together and watched the sunset. Y/N leaned back into Bucky’s arms as he kept her warm from the crisp autumn air. They talked about nothing and everything, trying to catch up on the weeks they had missed. And in that moment she knew she would never grow tired of this. He had somehow managed to thaw her frozen exterior and taught her that love was worth the risk of pain. 

As it started to get darker, they packed up their spot on the beach and headed back to the boardwalk. She knew she wasn’t leaving his side tonight. She’d spent too much time away from him and she wasn’t ready to separate just yet.

“Keys please,” she said, holding out her hand. 

“Oh are you driving?” he asked skeptically.

“Well yeah, it is my car now,” she replied easily.

Bucky leaned his head back, “Of course, how could I forget.” He placed the keys in her open hand, before wrapping his strong arm over her shoulder and pulling her in close to kiss her temple. 

[jujumin-translates]

★ Main Story | Act 13 - Budding Spring | Chapter 16 - My Allies

Izumi: That should be it for the shopping.

Tsumugi: Ah, right. I ran out of fertilizer…

Izumi: Should we make a stop at the flower shop?

Tsumugi: No, it’s a bit heavy, so I’ll ask someone else to help me next time I’m out and I’ll get it then.

Izumi: Got it. Oh, and speaking of flower shops, there’s that boy who’s a fan of ours that lives in a flower shop that I pass by a lo--.

Towa: …

Izumi: Huh? Towa-kun?

Towa: Ah…

Izumi: Are you okay? Are you feeling sick?

*Stomach growls*

Towa: I wanna… eat some rice…

*Thud*

Izumi: Huh?

Tsumugi: …He collapsed in the middle of the street?

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Towa: Let’s eat!

Tsumugi: You must’ve been starving.

Izumi: But I thought you were living at your aunt’s flower shop? It’s pretty close, so why…?

Towa: Actually… I ran away from home.

Sakuya: Ran away!?

Sakyo: Reminds me of a certain someone.

Azami: There’s a lotta people who run away from home in this dorm.

Kumon: Ahaha, true~.

Tenma: You were one of them, though.

Izumi: Did you run away because there’s something troubling you?

Towa: …

Masumi: If you’re not going to say anything, leave.

Sakuya: Hey, c’mon, he probably has his reasons.

Towa: …Sorry for causing you guys so much trouble.

Towa: …I’ve always admired you all. I’ve always wanted to be someone who could be passionate about something.

Towa: All my studies, my lessons, my hobbies, I’ve always done them half-heartedly. I’ve always tried to not work as hard as I could.

Sakuya: …Why is that?

Towa: …I didn’t want to disappoint myself.

Towa: I guess I didn’t want to try too hard, fail, and then be disappointed in myself.

Towa: If I did, I’d be embarrassed, and scared, and feel like I should just curl up and die then and there.

Towa: But then I happened to see a play by MANKAI Company’s Spring Troupe, and fell in love with how much everyone was sparkling.

Towa: I was desperate to do something like that, to actually accomplish something. I wanted to try and shine like that, too.

Towa: But I didn’t know what to do…

Towa: I wanted to be closer to Veludo Way, where you all were, so I sent in an application to Hanasaki and transferred there last minute.

Izumi: That’s the reason why…!?

Banri: Pretty damn impressive that you managed to pass the entrance exam. The standard score you need to get in there is pretty high.

Towa: I studied harder than I ever had in my entire life!

Sakuya: You sure were motivated, huh?

Masumi: You’re insane.

Towa: It was because I wanted to be closer to all of you guys, but I had another reason too…

Towa: Everyone in my family really spoils me. They’re always ready to drop everything to give me anything I’m interested in or anything I need.

Towa: They’ll almost always listen to my selfishness and it made all my friends really jealous when I told them, so I wondered if it was really okay for me to keep living like that…

Towa: They didn’t even object when I transferred schools.

Towa: They said I should go wherever I wanted to go. And not only that, but they helped me with cram school and got me a tutor too.

Towa: They also asked my aunt if I could live with her.

Towa: My family is really kind, and I love them so much, but I hate how spoiled I become when I’m with them. That’s why I decided to leave.

Yuki: You’ve got guts.

Tsumugi: It’s really nice of your family to support the path you chose, Towa-kun.

Towa: But… Apparently, they thought it wouldn’t be long before I came back home.

Towa: “It’s not like there’s anything he really wants to do”, “He won’t be able to do it alone, away from his family”...

Towa: When I overheard my aunt and my mom say stuff like that while they were talking on the phone, I got so mad that I just stormed out.

Towa: …But they were right. All I have is the things I admire. I don’t have a clue about what I actually want to do with myself.

Towa: I really can’t do anything on my own…

Sakuya: I don’t think that’s true.

Citron: You have already made it this far!

Chikage: You’ve even managed to make your way into the dorms of the theater company you admire.

Towa: Ah…

Itaru: You tried your hardest, got accepted into Hanasaki, and made it all the way to the Holy Land, isn’t that enough proof right there?

Sakuya: I think it’s amazing that you’re venturing out into a whole new world entirely on your own.

Itaru: You don’t need to rush things. Everyone figures out what they want to do with themselves eventually.

Tsumugi: I think you probably understand feeling like that the most, right, Banri-kun?

Banri: This sorta thing’s all about timing, and, well, I guess fate’s sorta a part of it too. There ain’t any point in rushin’ things.

Juza: For you, it was more like when people try ‘n stage car crashes for insurance money, though.

Banri: The hell you just say?

Izumi: You’re able to do lots of things.

Izumi: If we hadn’t met you, we never would’ve thought of doing that workshop, Towa-kun.

Towa: …Thank you so much. I’m still really sorry about all the trouble I’ve caused you.

Izumi: You’re aunt’s probably worried sick, so someone should get in touch with her. Are you able to do that on your own?

Towa: Yeah.

Towa: --Ah, so many notifs in the chat.

shiki: Please contact us.

kar: Don’t die

Iv: wanna come over to my place?

shiki: Just calm down and don’t do anything rash!

Izumi: Chat?

Towa: They’re friends I met through a game called “Bloom Game”.

Towa: We’re always talking about all kinds of different things on BlooCh-- the in-game chat.

Towa: We’ve never met before, and we don’t even know what any of the others look like, but that’s why we can talk and feel like we’re always so connected.

Towa: It’s just another one of the places I belong.

Izumi: I see. Make sure you get in touch with them too, then.

Towa: I will.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Sakuya: Do you need someone to take you home?

Towa: I’m good. It’s not that far away and my aunt said she’d meet me halfway.

Sakuya: Got it. Well then, get home safely, okay?

Citron: And you are always welcome to come here if you ever run away from home again!

Masumi: Please don’t.

Tsuzuru: Not sure when we became a place that welcomes runaways, but, I guess it’s not so bad being a place like that.

Izumi: Bye.

Towa: Thank you for the meal! And good luck with your next performance! I can’t wait to see it!

*Footsteps*

Tsuzuru: Our next performance, huh…

Itaru: We’ve still gotta face our own problems too.

Chikage: …Right.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

*Phone notification*

Sakuya: Ah… I really need to reply…

Sakuya: Haaah… Something that’s like us, huh.

Tenma: Does the upcoming Romeo have lines like that?

Sakuya: Huh? Ah, no.

Tenma: Heard your rehearsals didn’t go too well.

Sakuya: …Yuzo-san watched us rehearse today.

Sakuya: He told us to think about what makes a play a Spring Troupe play again, and to think about what our debut performance was like too.

Sakuya: We’ve definitely improved and gained a lot more experience, but what are we lacking more than back then…

Sakuya: There’s no way our feelings aren’t stronger than they were back then.

Tenma: Something you’re lacking, huh? There were lots of things you were lacking during your RomiJuli performance.

Tenma: Your acting was rough at best, and it was overall a pretty shaky start. But even so… I still wonder about what exactly it was that made you guys sparkle like that.

Tenma: You all just seemed to be enjoying the new world of theater with everything you had in you.

Sakuya: New world…

Tenma: You made me want to go with you-- To take that step into the world of the stage.

Sakuya: I was so happy to hear you praise RomiJuli after you joined the troupe, Tenma-kun.

Tenma: Now that I think about it, you must’ve had problems back during rehearsals for your debut performance, right?

Tenma: I mean, I did ask you how you solved problems during your performance while we were rehearsing for Summer Troupe’s debut performance.

Sakuya: I guess you’re right…

Sakuya: While we were rehearsing for our debut, Yuzo-san told us that we didn’t understand a thing about the stage and--...

Sakuya: That’s it! Thanks, Tenma-kun! I’m gonna go and get a little more acquainted with the stage again!

Tenma: --No problem.

[ ⇠ Previous Part ] • [ Next Part ⇢ ]

[hoffstrap-yuri]

For Sickness and in Health (Insurance)

ao3 // masterlist

*SUMMARY: Agent Strahm was by the book when it came to solving cases. Being honest about his marital status was a different story entirely.

*RATING: +18 for Explicit Mature Content

*CONTENT/TAGS: M/M, Hoffstrahm, Coffinshipping, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Crossdressing, Crossdressing Kink, Fake Marriage/Dating, Fake Relationship, Eventual Smut, Alternate Universe

*STATUS: Chapter 1/2

Author's Note: Second chapter of this fic can be found here! Woo my first MLM saw fic, it's only fitting it'd be coffinshipping. Huge thanks to @cubestrahm for helping me stay motivated on this project, and come up with an ending for it <3

There was an eerie silence in the air. Hoffman was in the middle of his daily crossword puzzle, scratching his head at what possibly could be the answer for 5 down. Strahm took a glance at the desk across from him before clearing his throat. When Hoffman didn’t look up the first time, he cleared it again with more phlegm coming up.

“Do you need something, special agent?” Hoffman finally looked up from his crossword. To say he was mildly annoyed by the other middle aged man would be an understatement. Unless he had the answer to 23 across, Hoffman didn’t want to hear a damn word come from his mouth.

Strahm took a deep breath before he said, “I have a favor to ask of you.”

“Ask Perez.” Hoffman replied, turning his eyes back down to the paper in front of him

“Would if I could, believe me.” Strahm propped his head up against his fingers, “See… I need you to.”

“Yeah?” Hoffman raised an eyebrow, bringing his coffee cup up to his lips. He started to take a sip when Strahm said maybe the most outlandish thing that Mark had ever heard in his life,

“I need you to pretend to be my wife.”

Hoffman spit out his coffee, droplets making it onto Strahm’s crisp white shirt across the two desks.

“Agent Strahm, are you high?”

“No.”

“Then what the hell are you smoking,” Hoffman sputtered as he kept trying to string words together. Something to make a coherent sentence. “Are you insa… Actually, I’ve seen the footage of your interview with Jill Tuck. I know you’re insane. Why would I even entertain this idea, Special Agent?”

“You get better insurance?” Strahm shut his eyes, hoping that the offer of a better plan would be enough to entice the man before him. There was a pause in their banter. Peter couldn’t believe that Mark would actually even consider this.

“Does the plan include dental?”

“Wait you don’t get dental?”

“I do.” Hoffman scoffed, “But I have a ridiculous co-pay. What’s yours look like?”

“500.”

“… Fine. What do you need from me?”

“Just come with me to DC. We’ll talk to an HR person for an hour, get the paperwork sorted out, and we both get better insurance.”

“I can do that.”

“Alright.” Strahm said with a heavy sigh of relief. He was still quiet around Hoffman the next couple of minutes until Perez came back from lunch. Naturally, Strahm turned his back away from the other man to talk to his partner. Hoffman pulled a straw wrapper off the side of his desk he’d been meaning to throw out anyway, crumpled it up, and threw it at the back of Strahm’s head. When Strahm turned around to see whether something had actually hit him, Mark played coy. Almost too coy. Strahm raised an eyebrow at him, trying to goad him into a confession. Other, weaker, men would have folded under the gaze of the man with immaculate eyelashes, but Mark was stronger than that. Or so he thought at the very least. Mark leaned forward on his desk and rested his head on his fists, inviting some kind of challenge from the agent. As Strahm opened his mouth to offer a rebuttal, he thought long and hard whether a fight right now was worth it. He zipped his own lips back up and turned back around to talk with Perez.

‘Did she know?’ Mark wondered to himself, ‘About Strahm’s stupid little plan?’

Strahm massaged the wedding band on his finger, as if a sign to Hoffman that he heard his thoughts. That Lindsay was in on the whole scam too. She had to know… He shook his head and tried to clear the thought from his head. Maybe Hoffman was the one really getting scammed.

---

“Nice ride.” Hoffman slung his bag over his shoulder, looking at the car behind Strahm parked in Hoffman’s driveway.

“Shut up.”

“First road trip…”

“Don’t.” Strahm pointed at his partner in crime, “Don’t finish that sentence.”

“Aw, afraid you’re gonna like hearing the words ‘newlyweds’ come from my mouth?” Hoffman got up in Strahm’s face. Strahm’s lips were mere inches from brushing up against Hoffman. He felt the tickle of a sharp inhale from the detective’s nose and the heavy sigh when the air came back up along his upper lip. Peter turned his head away so he didn’t have to look into Mark’s eyes. He turned on the back of his heels and opened up the trunk for Mark to put his bag inside of. Mark plopped his bag down next to what he assumed was Strahm’s overnight bag before attempting to open the back passenger side door.

“The hell do you think you’re doing?” Strahm asked, sticking his head out of his window

“Sitting in the back, idiot. What does it look like I’m doing?” Mark wriggled the handle some more

“Why the hell would you sit back there?”

“So I can get some sleep.”

“And make me feel like a damn taxi driver; I don’t fucking think so. Sit up here.”

“Fine.” Hoffman rolled his eyes and got into the seat across from Strahm. He crams himself in before feeling up the seat to find the height adjuster. He pushed it as far back as it would go and crossed his legs before pressing his weight up against the car door.

“Here, grab the directions from the glove compartment.” Strahm said. He wrapped an arm around the headrest of Hoffman’s seat as he backed up from the driveway. Hoffman handed him the three sheets of paper folded into threes. Before handing it off however, he took a peek under the fold to see where the MapQuest directions lead to. Some two-star hotel on the DC-Maryland border. Not that Hoffman had any right to complain about the lodging, but he wondered if the accommodations were coming from the FBI or Strahm’s wallet.

“Take a left here. It’ll be faster and it’s easier to get on the turnpike.” Hoffman pointed up a couple of blocks ahead of them. Strahm gave him an apprehensive look before following the instructions the other man gave him. “Nice smooth merge instead of fighting.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Take it you don’t go home much? Or am I not good enough to bring home to mom?” Hoffman asked as he handed the papers off finally.

“What are you on about now?”

“Why aren’t you taking me to your place?”

“My place?” Strahm looked at him, more confused than ever

“In DC.”

With a sharp inhale Strahm asked, “Do you think every FBI agent is based out of Washington DC? Are you really that stupid, Detective?”

“Maybe I am.” Hoffman shrugged nonchalantly. Was Hoffman trying to scam him, even now? A blood vessel was popping on the edge of Strahm’s forehead and he could feel it. That seemed to make Hoffman’s lips curl at the ends ever so deviously. So it was all a fucking joke. “What’s the plan?”

“What?” Strahm’s attention returned in that moment.

“When we get to DC, smart ass.”

“Go to sleep. Get up in the morning, go to the office, and get this done. We’ll be home by tomorrow night.”

“How punctual.” Hoffman purred. “Did you bring something for me to wear?”

“No, why the hell would I do that?” Strahm asked.

“Why the hell wouldn’t you, this was your plan. I thought you asked me because you had something already.” Hoffman sat up in his seat, giving the other man a dumbfounded look

“I asked because you’re the only one not in the registry like Perez is. I mean why the hell wouldn’t you go out and buy a cheap dress or something after I told you about this?”

Hoffman just sighed before realizing the implication of this. “So guess that means you have to take me shopping.”

“What you want to go to the National Mall for that, dumb ass?”

“And if I do?” Hoffman smirked. He was clearly enjoying himself far too much. On the other hand, it took every bone in Strahm’s body to keep the two of them from careening off the highway and into the Atlantic ocean. Most of the car ride was in silence after that. Mark would occasionally peer out the window when they crossed a river, making it damn near impossible for him to get his planned nap in during the drive. Like that, they were pulling up into the parking lot of their hotel. Strahm left the car on while he checked in, and made a motion out to Hoffman when they were all set. Strahm walked back out to the car and sat in the driver’s seat before looking behind him.

“Where are we going?”

“To go shopping.” Strahm said with a sigh.

---

“Where to first?” Hoffman asked, stepping out of the car. Strahm hadn’t allowed for any stops on their way down south, so getting out to stretch was completely out of the question. Now that he was free, Hoffman lifted his arms over his head and let out a yawn. Strahm shot him a look before saying,

“It was only three hours, you don’t need to be so dramatic.”

“It was four.” Hoffman corrected him. Strahm just rolled his eyes and locked his car, walking away from the verbal conflict.

“Let’s go find you a dress first.” Strahm said in a hushed voice. Not that there was anyone else in the garage, but if there was he was worried someone would hear the two male voices.

“Does it have to be a dress? Or do you just want to emasculate me?” Hoffman growled slightly.

“There’s no way you’d fit in a woman’s suit.” Strahm stated, as if it was common knowledge. “And this is the FBI, you have to look halfway decent.”

“Your wish is my command, hubby.” Hoffman slapped on the most offensively fake smile as they walked into the mall. While neither of the men knew the layout of the mall, Strahm seemed to fall in behind Hoffman. This was unlike his usual behavior back in New York but Hoffman didn’t think it was worth getting into. They walk up to a directory and find a shop to pick a dress out from, first trying the anchor stores and getting nowhere with that. They tried a specialty store next, with more results. The only issue is the staff seemed to glare as the two men rummaged through the racks to find something that would fit a man like Hoffman. Hoffman noticed that Peter kept stealing looks as he would step out from the dressing room to look at the dress in the full length mirror. “Here, this should fit, but I need to to zip the back up.”

“Fine.” Strahm approached Hoffman and pulled the zipper up. It seemed to fall back as it was just about to close so Strahm told him, “Suck your gut in.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Hoffman rolled his eyes and sucked his stomach in. The zipper went up fine and Strahm secured it with the tiny hooks on the back. His hands slowly lingered onto Hoffman’s hips as they looked at the outfit in the mirror. “Not bad.”

“Yeah, you just look like a nice broad now.” Strahm replied quickly, before realizing where his hands were resting. He took a step back and Hoffman did a half spin to see what his back looked like in the dress, “I think it’ll work.”

“Yeah.” Strahm’s eyes wandered up at the ceiling. Hoffman reveled in this power and slid his hands down his hips with a whistle. Strahm turned his head back to look at the other man before darting his eyes away again. Like fucking putty in Mark’s hands. He walked back to his dressing room, came back out, and quickly threw the garment into Peter’s arms. Strahm shuffled to catch it before Hoffman walked past him and back into the store. Strahm veered towards the cashier before Hoffman pulled him by the back of his shirt and asked,

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“To check out.”

“Not before I get some accessories.” He turned Strahm around and took a look at the gaudy earrings the store had on display

“You don’t even have piercings.” Strahm huffed quietly, “You’re not about to get them pierced for this.”

“And if I wanted to?”

“I’d tell you ‘you’re insane’ and pull you out of Claire’s. Dumbass.”

“Well at the very least, you can treat your wife to a nice necklace.”

“Fine.” Strahm sighed, feeling the grip Hoffman had on him growing tighter. “We can go to a jewelry store for that.”

“God you really know how to spoil a woman, it’s a wonder you’re not actually married.” Hoffman teased him, taking the dress from his hands and bringing it up to the counter himself. The cashier at the time didn’t seem to care that two men approached her with a feminine dress. She finished the transaction as quickly as she could, and went back to sulking while the two men headed back into the mall. Hoffman dragged Strahm back to a directory to plan their next course of action. It would be shoes, makeup, and jewelry in that order. There were more than a few instances where Hoffman didn’t need to be so close to the FBI agent, but would still press his body up against the other man. Like when a family tried to walk around the two of them. It would turn Strahm’s face an embarrassing red to have the fabric of Hoffman’s shirt slide across the leather of his jacket. In a low voice that he was certain only Strahm would hear he’d say, “My bad.”

“Just shut up and keep walking” or some variation were the only words Strahm was able to eek out. They managed to find some heels that weren’t ridiculously chunky, and Hoffman could balance on before going to a makeup store in the mall. They found a disgustingly light powder pink that the saleswoman said ‘any girl would love’, while Strahm stood out in the mall proper pretending that he was just shopping with a friend after work. She also threw in some samples that Hoffman didn’t really seem to understand, but was thankful he wasn’t buying any more makeup than was necessary. Not that it was on his dime, but he’d have no use for it after this elaborate fraud. Next, the two walked around a jewelry kiosk. Mark pointed at a diamond necklace and Strahm nearly cussed him out there in front of the sales clerk but just handed the Amex over before there was any questions. They walked back to the car before Strahm excused himself and headed to the bathroom.

“You really can’t wait for 20 minutes to get to the hotel?” Hoffman asked him, rolling his eyes

“It’s four o’clock, there’s no way in hell the ride is only going to be 20 minutes.” Strahm retorted before going in. Hoffman waited impatiently, stamping his foot down and glancing at the clock. How long did it take this idiot to piss? Out of the corner of his eye, Hoffman saw another store that he ducked into. If he was going to be Strahm’s wife, he was going to make the agent really regret it. He hurried back to the spot where Strahm was just zipping up his jacket. “Where were you?”

“Looking at Auntie Anne’s, the fuck does it matter to you?”

With a huff Strahm replied, “Whatever” before beginning the walk back to the car. This time Hoffman was sure to follow behind the agent. He seemed more… on edge than he had been this morning on Hoffman’s doorstep. Were the nerves setting in? Was his bravado really that fragile that shopping for women’s clothing was going to trip up Special Agent Peter Strahm?

“You seem tense.” Hoffman remarked

“I’m fine.” Strahm dodged the accusation, but not very well. There was almost an edge of bitterness in his words. He seemed to realize how rude he’d sounded by the way his eyes softened and said again, “I’m fine” in a much gentler tone.

“Nervous?”

“About?”

“Lying to your employer, the federal government?”

“No. No that’s the easy bit.”

“Easy, huh? Don’t tell me you’ve deceived the government before.”

“Yeah. Then when they caught me in my lie about 5 years later just told them it was a clerical error.”

“How rebellious of you. Never in my wildest dreams could I see you, Agent Strahm, bending the rules. Much less for your amusement.”

“And you’ve always filed your taxes on time.” Strahm laughed

“I’d never mess with my taxes.” Hoffman replied with a slight frown

“Sure thing, altar boy."

[tinyinvadr]

Next chapter’s up!

Psychoborrower

Chapter 10

Just past the greenhouse was the elevator, leading directly up into the tower. Once again, Coach Oleander had reinforcements in place to keep us out. Although, this particular individual was hired by his partner in crime, Dr. Loboto.

I could only assume this was the same creepy doctor that Raz and Lili both saw visions of. This was the first time we had a name to place to him. From how everyone described him, he sounded legitimately terrifying.

One of the asylum patients, Crispin Whytehead, had been given the position of Chief Orderly and was tasked with guarding the elevator.

Naturally, he wasn’t going to let us in. Psychic intervention didn’t work either. Dr. Loboto had implanted some sort of blocker in his brain to keep everyone out, Oleander included.

Luckily for us, Crispin unknowingly planted another idea in our heads to get past him. He admitted that he has poor eyesight, and primarily recognizes Dr. Loboto based on three key features: his face, a strappy coat, and a metallic claw in place of his right arm.

In short, if Raz could find those three things, he could makeshift a disguise to trick Crispin into letting us use the elevator.

Well, we really only needed to find two things. I suggested we backtrack to the greenhouse when I remembered how claw-like Gloria’s trophy was.

With that taken care of, we just had to focus on the jacket and the face.

When we returned to the room Crispin was stationed in, Raz pointed out another asylum patient who was wearing a straitjacket.

“You sure that’s a good idea?” I asked.

“It’s not like we have a choice. Just gotta make sure I can take it back off.”

We approached the man, who initially claimed to be Napoleon Bonaparte, only to retract it in a completely different voice.

Raz tried to ask for his jacket, and he seemed willing at first, but Napoleon refused, stating that it was his “uniform.”

It looked like the only way to move forward was to fix another mental world. So, one trip through the psycho-portal later, we found ourselves in a parlor where the patient we met was playing a board game against Napoleon Bonaparte himself.

Or, a genetic memory of him, rather.

Napoleon explained that he took over the mind of his descendant, Fred Bonaparte, after he lost the spirit of victory.

Just from looking at Fred, it was clear he had little to no motivation. He seemed like he was ready and willing to give up at any minor inconvenience, much to Napoleon’s frustration.

Raz leaned over the edge of the game board, trying to get a better look at it. In doing that, I lost balance and tumbled off his shoulder. Thinking fast, I used my Thought Bubble to float down and safely land on the board.

“Sorry, Flint! Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good! And I’ve got a better view of the game down here! I’m gonna look around, figure out how this place works.”

I tried to remain calm and not let my excitement distract me. This was the first time I could effectively interact with a mental world at my natural size. It felt like I finally had my moment to shine.

After exploring the board for a bit, I ran into a tiny clone of Napoleon.

“Aha! I see you haven’t lost that fire in your heart completely, Fred! You’ve sent in reinforcements!”

The confused voice of Fred echoed from up above.

“Huh? Oh, sure.”

“Well, I’m not going to make it easy for him! Destroy that bridge, soldier!”

Suddenly, one of the game pieces came to life, moved to the space next to the bridge, and smashed it right down the middle. Fred let out a sigh.

“Aw man, how am I supposed to do anything with the bridge destroyed? You win, Napoleon. I quit.”

I don’t know what came over me. I guess I didn’t like seeing someone give up so easily. There were way too many times that I felt like I wanted to give up on everything. But even though I kept my distance from everyone at camp for the longest time, I still had support from the people around me that gave me the motivation to keep going.

Fred didn’t have that. He was all alone in this abandoned asylum with no one to give him that push. He kept spiraling further and further, his own mind taunting him as he lost his will to try. I had to do something.

“No he doesn’t! He doesn’t quit! Fred, you can win this, I’m sure of it! Let Raz and I help. We can figure out a way to beat him!”

“Sure, kid. Try whatever you want. But I’m tellin’ ya, it’s impossible.”

I asked Napoleon to tell me how the game works, and it sounded simple enough. You win by moving your knight piece into your opponent’s castle. The only thing preventing that from happening was the broken bridge, but it could be repaired if I recruited the Carpenter.

I headed over to the Carpenter’s house, but he refused to come outside because he heard burglars on the roof. They were actually just Censors, so I climbed up there, gave them a good ass-whooping, and returned to tell the Carpenter the good news.

I moved him over to the bridge with TK and he fixed it just as quickly as the soldier demolished it.

“Excellent move, Fred! Perhaps you can beat me after all!”

“What? Oh, um… hey, you actually fixed the bridge.”

His motivation wasn’t quite back yet, but we all have to start somewhere.

Napoleon’s next obstacle was his soldiers, which he stationed along the path to the castle to prevent the Knight from reaching it. In order to ensure a safe path for the Knight, I had to recruit peasants to fight against them.

Negotiating with the peasants proved to be a challenge. The first one refused to join the war because he felt Fred didn’t care about the people. Which… I mean… yeah, he didn’t, but I got Raz to convince him to write a letter saying he does care.

Raz also helped in getting a giant coin out of the fireplace for me to offer as compensation to the second peasant, and the third… he just wanted me to go get his rifle for him. Oh, the life of a board game piece. Incapable of doing anything yourself. Couldn’t be me.

Seeing that Fred was close to winning, Napoleon took drastic measures. He raised the castle’s drawbridge, then lodged an eyedropper in the gears to keep it shut.

“Hey! That’s not fair!”

“All is fair in love and war! Ready to give up yet?”

Then, to my surprise, Fred spoke up.

“No he’s not! Come on, little guy, we can do this! We’re so close!”

I noticed Napoleon give a slight smile, and it was then that I realized his true intention all along was to get Fred out of his slump. All this time, he’d been presenting a challenge to try and push Fred to fight back, but it just wasn’t working. It turns out an opponent alone wasn’t enough to help him. He needed someone on his side, too.

Jumping across the river and fighting the assortment of enemies, I made my way to the drawbridge and pulled the eyedropper out. With the drawbridge lowered, all that was left to do was get the Knight. Or… I had to get some escargot for him first. Then he was on board.

Without anything left to stop me, I moved the Knight to the castle, winning the game.

Satisfied with Fred’s rejuvenated spirit of victory, Napoleon faded from his mind, giving him full control once again.

Raz reached down from above the board, and I jumped onto his hand so he could lift me out.

“Flint, that was amazing! You’ve played this game before, haven’t you?”

“Nope! I’m just a genius.”

We left Fred’s mind and took the straitjacket off, and he immediately lied down on the floor for a nap.

Our Dr. Loboto disguise was almost complete. Although, I wasn’t sure what we were supposed to do about the face. The only thing I could think of was an incredibly realistic portrait of him, but what were the chances we’d find something like that?

[keeponkippenon]

Posting my ao3 Madlyn fic here, bc I don't know the next time I'll have the writing motivation to start chapter 2. I originally posted chapter 1 on July 25th, 2023 (the motivation basically left me the instant it published 💔). Hope y'all enjoy :] ------------- Chapter 1

From Boyfriend to Wingman

Ashlyn: Hey, can we talk?

Big Red: Of course 😊

Ashlyn’s nerves were through the roof as she silently waited for Big Red to show up. She had texted him asking if he’d meet up at her place, and was now starting to get lost in thought about it. This was the night she planned on breaking up with him, and now all that was left was figuring out how to say it. She’s been mulling over it for weeks now ever since realizing her feelings for Val back at camp. Which in turn led to her figuring out that she is, in fact, Queer.

While she still cared deeply for Big Red, her heart was longing for something new. This recently discovered part of her has given her a new way to look at herself, and now she wanted to see what else there was to explore. While distance may make the heart grow fonder for some, for others it helps put feelings into perspective. All of this coupled with some unexplored feelings that she may have for her newly made friend, Maddox.

Interrupting Ashlyn’s thoughts were the sound of footsteps approaching, those footsteps ending in a welcoming hug from Big Red. She hugged him back tightly, now came the hard part that she can only hope ends well.

“Hey Ash, you wanted to talk?” Big Red spoke, looking into Ashlyn’s eyes expectantly. There was something comforting about the way he looked at her, like no matter what was said, he’d understand.

“Um yeah” She hesitates for a moment, directing him towards a couch where they could sit down. “So do you remember that night back at camp? The night of the Frozen show?” Ashlyn finishes. Hoping to jog Big Red’s memory, as well as to stall due to her nerves attempting to get the best of her.

“How could I forget? It was probably the best thing to happen this summer..” He starts, but trails off as he sees the look on her face. “Is this about that conversation we had?” Big Red silently looks at Ashlyn, thinking about why this would be brought up so long after the event. Though, whether he realized it or not, he had a feeling he knew where this was going. 

“Biggie, while I was at camp I realized some things about myself. Things that are more than just what my rising sign is… which is apparently a leo and not a capricorn like I’ve thought for basically my whole life-”

She takes a deep breath, and slowly exhales. “Uh, but that’s besides the point.” Laughing nervously at her own rambling, she continues on. Letting go of the last of her fear, before finishing her thought. 

“That conversation we had, I wasn’t being truthful. I care for you, so much. You’ve made me feel loved, and like I can do anything. You’ve been there for me whenever I needed someone, and you’ve always shown that all you want is for me to be happy.” A moment goes by, then another. And finally…

“But my heart seems to be pulling me in a new direction, and I think it would be best if we were just friends from now on.” As the sentence left her mouth, tension filled the air around them. The room was quiet, far more quiet than she’d like at this moment. As time felt like it stretched on for ages before Big Red finally spoke.

“You know, I kind of felt like that was where this was going.” Ashlyn starts to form the beginning of an apology after he says this, but is quickly interrupted by Big Red continuing. 

“And while it does hurt, you’re right that all I want is for you to be happy. And if that happiness lies elsewhere, then that’s okay. I never want to hold you back from that, so don’t apologize. There’s no need.”

The relief Ashlyn felt in that moment was liberating, a weight had been lifted off her shoulders and tears had begun to form at the corners of her eyes. She tightly hugged Big Red as they sat there silently, the understanding and care was evident from the warmth of the hug itself.

When they finally pulled apart, Big Red’s eyes lit up as if he had just had an epiphany of sorts. Suddenly he spoke.

“You don’t have to tell me, and I don’t mean to pry. But, did someone at camp catch your eye by chance?” The unexpected question caused Ashlyn’s eyes to widen in surprise, this reaction resulting in Big Red immediately starting to smile from ear to ear. 

“Someone totally did! Ash, that’s amazing.” he exclaims, grabbing Ashlyn’s hand as a gesture of support. She sighs, taking in his reaction to this newly found information. She couldn’t be more grateful that she wasn’t losing his friendship, and that he would still be that beacon of light in her life that he always was. 

“Okay well, I may or may not have made a new friend at camp who just so happens to have wormed their way into my heart just a bit.” She starts, wondering how best to describe Maddox to Big Red. Her feelings were still fairly new, and she didn’t know exactly how to work them out

just yet. But what she did know is that Maddox was someone important to her, someone who had helped her figure these new things out. That’s at least something to think about during this journey she seems to be going on.

After a moment more of thinking, she continues. “Her name is Maddox, and she was nothing but kind to me the entire time I was at camp. I still feel horrible for how I treated her throughout it all, but despite everything she still gave me a chance.” 

Ashlyn’s face begins to heat up, watching Big Red for any slight reaction he might have. She keeps talking.

“She’s funny and observant, and I don’t know. I guess I wish I had a bit more time with her. Maybe these feelings wouldn’t be so complicated then.” She finishes, looking away from him in an attempt to save face. She didn’t notice her heart rate had risen as she spoke, coupled with the nerves that had shown up once again.

“Well, it seems like we both figured something out about ourselves this summer.” He laughs. Hoping to calm her down a bit in the process. He was just happy that she seemed more content with herself, and that she was able to tell him this without worry.

While Ashlyn was beginning to collect  herself, Big Red began forming an idea. An idea that may just help Ashlyn in all the ways she needed in this moment, all that he needed was her approval. “Hey Ash, how do you feel about having a wingman?” Smiling wide at her curious gaze, he begins explaining his plan. -More (hopefully) coming soon- Feelings to be Explored - Chapter 1

[13ghostlytitties]

The Heart of a Hero is returning once more!

Today marks the 5-year anniversary of the premiere of HoaH, and is fairly close to the 3.5 year anniversary of its last official upload. Well, the wait is over. It’s time for me to resurrect this series and eventually bring it to its end (not that it left off anywhere close to ending 😉).

Since it’s been a while, I’ve put together a recap of the story so far that I’ll post at some point here. It’s not complete, I had to cut out some of the newer chapters since it just became a play-by-play synopsis that doubled the total word count, but hey, having to reread 5-10 chapters is better than rereading 150.

The tentative return date will be this time next month as I work on creating a backlog of chapters. If I need to push it back, I’ll let you know. As for other questions I’m sure some of you have, check below the cut. For those who don’t care, see you in a month, hopefully.

So, some questions I’m sure some of you are asking:

1: where have you been? And why did you stop?

I’m not gonna go into details since I’m not that kinda person, but overall, just been living life, dude. I originally began my unexpected hiatus when college was kicking my ass and expected to get right back to things, but some stuff happened, and by the time I had dealt with it, it was Spring of 2020. You can guess what stopped me up then lol. But yeah, things just got away from me and eventually, I didn’t have the time or energy to dedicate to diving headfirst back into this outside of unconnected one-off stuff like those Bang fics. There’s other facets too, of course, the biggest one being a general disinterest in the source material. I stopped reading MHA around the villains arc (though I’ve kept up a bit in terms of big stuff like the traitor reveal), so I lacked that interest to pull me back into this world. Where I left off in the story, in the middle of a complicated arc full of OCs and big fights and stuff, was also a hurdle to getting back into things. But I’m here now, I’m working on my backlog, and I’m gonna commit. If you guys are excited about my return, spread the word and lemme hear it so I can keep this motivation 🤟

2: Is A New Era coming back too?

And now for the other shoe to drop. It is not. Im very sorry, especially to those whose OCs I included, but it’s just not feasible. Every time I considered it or tried it, the whole return to the main story was stopped up with it. Anyone who’s interested in continuing it themselves in some way shape or form, you have my permission in terms of the general idea, the OC kids I came up with, the places that canon characters are in it, etc. As for other people’s OCs, I’d check with their creators. One again, very sorry, but it’s just not doable.

3: What will this return look like? How often are chapters gonna drop?

Still working out the specifics, but my idea for now is to drop 2 chapters a week. If I need to go on hiatus, I’ll announce as much and plan the placement of it much better so that I don’t stop in the middle of an arc. That way, the hiatus will only be a month instead of years lol. The schedule may change over time, but I’ll keep everyone informed as I move ahead with it

4: a lot has happened in the manga and anime and movies since you stopped. Will these things be worked into the series?

Nope. I stopped reading and probably won’t start again until it’s over and done with. More than that, I’ve been sitting on these plans for a couple years now and don’t feel like changing them much. Besides, this story has had a long, rich history of shitting in the soup of the canon story, so I’ll just continue doing my own thing

5: are you still as epic and cool and funny as in the past?

Don’t ask questions you already know the answers to. I never was 😎

[cleo-fox]

The “When Are You Updating?” Ask

I should say up front that this isn’t in response to anything I received. This topic came up in a Discord server that I’m in and another friend of mine got a similar ask shortly after.

I’ve alluded to the fact that this Tumblr isn’t my first account and that I’ve written for other fandoms previously. What I haven’t talked about is why I’m taking an extended hiatus from that fandom or why the majority of my work in this one has been one shots.

Historically, I’ve been a long fic writer. On my other pen name, I posted a long fic that had a fairly decent following in that particular corner of fandom. I’m a slow writer under normal circumstances but when the pandemic hit, I started having more trouble writing and my updates slowed a lot. I worked in a public facing role and the stress I was experiencing was unlike anything I’d ever dealt with before. About a year into the pandemic, I got pregnant.

To sum it up: I was pregnant, which put me at a higher risk for developing complications from Covid. I was working in a public facing role, which increased my risk of catching Covid and had the added factor of people being aggressive about not complying with mask mandates. Because of my pregnancy, I was not able to take critical medications, which then negatively affected my focus and energy levels. I was dealing with other chronic illnesses that were exacerbated or changed by pregnancy, as well as the physical symptoms of pregnancy itself. Then there was also the delivery, which had complications, as well as adjusting to life with a newborn and then going back to work.

I was upfront about all of this. I said that my fics weren’t abandoned, but that I didn’t know when the next update would be because I was dealing with a lot.

I still got asks asking why hadn’t I updated yet.

I knew that these asks came from a good, well-intentioned place. I loved that people were so excited about my writing that they wanted to read more. I loved that they cared so deeply about my characters. I didn’t want to sound ungrateful for their enthusiasm or their support, nor did I want to initiate a pile on with a snarky reply or make someone feel bad for asking a genuine question. I often struggled with how to word my replies, to find a way to be grateful for their enthusiasm while also reiterating that I had a lot on my plate and that I would write more someday, but that I didn’t know when someday was.

It didn’t seem to matter, though. No matter how many times I said the same thing, the asks still kept coming. The worst ones were the ones that scolded me for taking so long because the sender didn’t know how long they would be in this fandom or the ones that included the phrase “I know you had a baby but…” Those hurt. Those made me feel like people saw me as a content creation machine and not like a person.

Eventually, this started to negatively impact my desire to interact with that community, as well as my desire to write that story. When you log in and you know that there’s a good chance your inbox is going to have one of those notes, it’s hard to feel enthusiastic about logging in at all.

So I decided that I needed to take a break. I still check that pen name every so often and I still intend to finish those other fics, but I need some time. This pen name was created out of a desire to give myself the space to write on my own terms, and I’m grateful for all the people here who have let me do that.

And honestly? If you want a writer to update, it is far, far more effective to talk about what you love about their fic. There are so many times when I’ve been pulled out of a writing slump by a comment or reblog where someone talked about what they enjoyed about my fic. That kind of engagement is more motivating than a request for an update could ever be.

There’s that one post going around with the compilation of crazy AO3 author’s notes—the ones that are like “sorry this chapter is a day late, I spent the night in federal prison lmao.” It’s a great post and I love that there are people like that. I admire people who can create art despite their circumstances. But for every writer like that, there’s someone like me who’s going through some shit and doesn’t have the time or energy to write the same way that she does when things are going okay. I wish people would remember that.

TLDR: be kind.

[inevitablysomber-dark]

Dragonfly (Chapter 4)

Subtle Dark! Pope Heyward x Mildly Naive! Reader

WARNING: Dubious Consent, Subtle Manipulation. MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY. MINORS DNI

Summary: Sex had always been painful for you, but you had been reassured that the pleasure would eventually come.  On one particularly frustrating night, you find comfort in the arms of your neighbor Pope Heyward, who offers his assistance with your little problem. Will it work? Or will you be ruined by Pope's selfish alternative motives?

Dividers By @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist

For the next few weeks Pope made sure you knew that he was an irrefutable munch. 

Practically living in the space between your legs, always leaving you with a tingly spine, and a blown mind from an earth-shattering orgasm. 

He’d told you that you needed to know what it was like to climax at the hands of someone else and not just your own. 

He didn’t do it everyday, but when it was time you knew, because he was always freshly showered and smelled like Spicy Vanilla. It had gotten to the  point that whenever you inhaled that scent, your juices would flow with anticipation. You didn’t mind it though, because he’d always follow through. 

Tonight was no exception, as he pulled off your underwear and stared as if being presented with a scrumptious meal. 

“Is this all for me?” he asks. Eyeing your lower lips as they glistened with your wetness. 

Pulling you closer wrapping his arms around your thighs and diving in for his feast. Showing some much needed love to your special button. 

And when he was done showing you the 7th dimension, he sat back, wiping his mouth as if he’d just got done with dinner. 

“JJ wants to have a bonfire today, and I’d like it if you came along,” 

“Really?” you asked.

“Yea” he responds, glancing in your direction.He peeps at your reaction and moves closer pulling up your panties along the way. “I would really appreciate it.” He places a kiss on your knee as you adjust your body just enough for him to get your panties all the way up. 

You didn’t really associate yourself with Pope’s friends too often, because for one, they  were always getting into trouble, especially JJ. And second, you usually felt like the odd one out whenever you did hang around them.

You understood that they were Pope’s closest friends, and for some reason it was important to him that you become familiar to them, but you always felt like an imposter, especially when he left you alone with them. 

“Please,” he gives you the puppy eyes and you roll your eyes, unable to keep a grin from establishing on your face. 

“Ok, what time does JJ want us there?” you ask, pushing him away to move off your bed and rummage through your drawers for something to wear. 

“He dusk, so I’m assuming 8, maybe 9” he lays back against the wall behind your bed.

You find a light gray tank top and start contemplating whether or not you’d wear it. 

“That should be fine,” he says. 

“It’s not too casual?” you ask. 

“ We’ll be at the Chateau, casual is already doing too much,” he responded.

You giggle at his response. 

You always had a good time with the Pope, so maybe the awareness between you and his friends was indicative of something else. Maybe you just needed to put on your big girl pants and find some familiarity around new peers. 

 “God she was amazing, and let me tell y'all, I’ve had plenty of girls in my lifetime but this one really hit me differently… literally.” JJ laughs and you follow along with the group as they bestow their own chuckles to his story. 

Pope had an arm around you, as per usual, pulling you in close. Giving you the occasional kiss, with you infrequently reciprocating your own.

John B. and Sarah seemed to be in their own world, in what you could only describe as a quiet argument. Kiara was chastising JJ for his crude words, stating that if he didn’t want her to run off he’d have to clean up his language. This was due to him inviting her out to this last minute bonfire. 

Ladybug was staring into the fire seemingly battling her own thoughts and struggling with them. And Pope felt the need to whisper the most unhinged things in your ear while you did your best to not react in front of all of his friends. 

“Hey, Pope, come help me get some snacks out of the kitchen before our little guest gets here.” John B requests. 

With a final kiss to my temple Pope gets up to help out John B.

You watch as he walks into the Chateau before turning your attention back to the bonfire, only to find JJ in your face. 

“So what's sex with Pope like?” he asks. His elbows resting on his knees with his chin resting on his fists. 

You back away shocked by his close proximity and are a little put off by his question. Kie, Sarah and Ladybug were looking your way, seemingly interested by the question as well. 

“Come on, you don’t have to be shy, Pope’s our boy,and by extension you are too.”

You didn’t know exactly what to say,and it felt a little wrong to admit that Pope had only been giving you head up until recently so you stretched the truth. 

“We haven’t really gone that far yet.”

“What!” he staggers back shocked by your response “With the amount of PDA yall partake in I’d think you were fucking like rabbits,”

You’re taken aback by his response. 

“ Is it Pope, he got a little ED or something?”

“No” you were quick to defend “Pope is amazing, I guess I’m just not ready yet,”

He nods, as if understanding. 

“When do you think you’ll be ready?” This time the question came from Sarah. 

You shrug “Eventually, I guess when it happens it happens,”

Eventually everyone goes back to JJ and his story about the pretty Kook girl who was supposed to show up tonight and you started feeling bad.

You moved over a bit to sit closer to Ladybug, because she seemed to be so into her own head.You nudged her with your shoulder to get her attention. 

“Is everything ok?”

She looks at you contemplating if she should say anything, and when she decides she takes a deep breath. 

“There’s a guy,” she starts with a whispered voice. 

When you look around Kie and Sarah are on their phones and JJ is nowhere to be found. It occurred to you that she didn’t want them to know. 

“What’s his name?” you whispered back

Her back straightens as if she’d done something guilty “ I’d rather not say.”

“Alright, well what’s up, why are you keeping him a secret?” you ask 

“He’s someone that I’m not really supposed to be around.” she responds, “and he’s kind of really mean to me.” she folds her fingers over her lap and begins to twiddle her thumbs. 

“If he’s mean to you then why are you with him?” you ask, “Just dump him.”

She pauses as if there's more to the story, but instead seems to change her narrative. “You know what you’re right-” before she can finish Pope is behind you pulling you into his chest and kissing the top of your head. 

The conversation was over, you knew Ladybug wasn’t telling you something, but there wasn’t much you could do with Pope being so close in proximity.

“The snacks are ready and JJ’s girl is here, let's get this party started.” Pope said

The night progressed nicely when JJ’s new friend arrived, and she said we could call her Cricket. She and JJ seemed to be very interested in each other, everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. Even Ladybug who’d been in her own head the whole night. 

That’s until Rafe, Kelce, and Topper came along making a Ruckus, telling Sarah to get home because her father needed her. 

Before leaving Rafe looked around a bit, and when his eyes landed on Cricket, JJ shielded her. He went on to call everyone a loser before getting back into his truck with his posse. 

You didn’t know Rafe all that well, but everything you’d heard about him had been nothing but negative, and after tonight, it all made sense. 

When it was time to go, you said your goodbyes, but noticed Ladybug was nowhere to be found. 

JJ said she probably went home early, which wasn’t really out of the ordinary for her. You were worried, but your worries were ultimately appeased by Pope.

Now you’re both walking home hand in hand and you couldn’t help but think of the questions you were asked at the bonfire.

Pope was always making sure you were comfortable, taking care of you, making you feel good and you had yet to reciprocate his actions. You knew there were no obligations, but between JJ talking about his own escapade and you being questioned about your sexual relationship with Pope, you felt that you needed to step up. 

So as Pope walked you to your door, you asked him to meet you in your room. Your parents were home that night, so he;d have to climb up to the second floor through your bedroom window. 

When you got inside, you greeted your parents, and went straight upstairs. 

Pope was on your bed, reading a random book, you immediately took it and dropped it on the ground. Before he could ask anymore questions you placed your lips onto his own. It wasn’t strong, but you could smell a hint of that spicy vanilla you loved so much. 

You press kisses down his neck, lifting his shirt so you can feel the skin of his chest and stomach. 

Your nerves rattle when you get to the front of his jeans, but you don’t stop. This felt right, it felt good to do this for someone who’d been spending so much of his time helping you. 

You slowly unbuckled his jeans, and as you pulled them down along with his boxers, his cock springs free, almost smacking you in the face. You take a moment to really absorb what you were staring at. 

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he says. 

Pope was much bigger than you’d anticipated, but you wanted to keep going. 

Before second thoughts could plague your mind, you suck his tip into your mouth, tasting his precum as you swirl your tongue around the bulbous head, giving special attention to the small opening at the tip. 

As spit dribbles down his shaft, you grab it, using your spit as lube, moving your hand up and down massaging his cock all throughout. Occasionally freeing the head to lick along the underside of his cock from base to tip. Gentle tugs followed along as you brought his head back into your mouth.

Pope is laid back down gripping the sheeting, holding back his groans as best as he could, and you did your best to give him the pleasure you felt he deserved. 

You suck harder pulling him deeper until you reach your limit, you can’t take much, but you felt that you could work with it.  Bobbing your head up and down his cock, and in a moment of selfishness, you take a hand and press your fingers into your own cunt, hoping to release some of the pressure that was building in your core. 

As he bears witness to this, you feel his cock jerk, and cum begins to splash into your mouth. You’re initially shocked, pulling back from the sudden liquid pushing into your mouth, causing some of it to land on your chest. 

You look at each other for a moment and as you swallow what was left in your mouth he smirks. 

“I wonder what brought that on?”

[askaalaska-vdeppressed]

I Cannot Breath (So I Must Sing) Ch. 3

Alastor X Opera Singer Reader

Masterlist.

CONTENT WARNING: This work is for mature audiences only, but not for the reasons your thinking. GRAPHIC descriptions of violence and a casting couch situation in this chapter. (nothing actually happens with the casting couch, but I still want you all to know)

The air was cool, early morning dew shone on blades of grass as Alastor enjoyed the peace and quiet on his porch. He always enjoyed the calm of a Sunday. He wasn’t a religious person in the slightest, but he had to give them credit. They were on to something with Sunday being the day of rest. He leisurely lifted the mug of coffee to his lips. As he sipped on the bitter drink he breathed in.  

Yes this was just what he needed. An easy quiet morning. The cool air, the calming sounds of the bayou, it was like his own little slice of heav- 

The sudden ring of the telephone broke Alastor out of his peaceful revere.  

Well it was nice while it lasted.  

Alastor’s eyebrows furrowed in frustration as he went to answer. He did not give out his information to most, so the likely-hood it was just some random person was slim.  

As he picked up; the crisp sound of a voice began, not waiting for a greeting.  

“Alastor it’s William.”  

“Ah Billy, I’d say good morning but I know if you’re calling me the morning has most certainly not been good.”  

William Venderberg, the lead detective on the case against the Bayou Butcher. Alastor’s coverage of the terrifying killer had been so insightful at the beginning of the Butcher’s rise that William had started inviting him to crime scenes before information was released to the public. His insights were helping them solve the case -William was sure of it.  

And oh the irony of Billy inviting him. Alastor found such deep and immense satisfaction at the fact he was often prancing around his own crime scenes, giving ‘insights’ into the killer’s motives and methods. It was all bullshit. Alastor had such fun manipulating them, sending them on wild goose chases.  

The very man they were trusting for guidance was the killer they were searching for.  

Knowing this, Alastor did not have to feign shock when he heard what came out of William’s mouth next.  

“We’ve got another one, another body.”  

“What?!” The shock in Alastor’s voice was evident and he had to think on his feet to cover for it. He sputtered before commenting. “This is the closest time between killings we’ve ever seen.” Alastor rolled his eyes as he spoke, being the investigative radio reporter could be a grating act sometimes. “Where is the body? Are you sure it’s him?”  

“Oh, I’m sure of it, I’ve seen enough of this guy’s victims to know. You’ll be sure of it too once you get down here.” 

Alastor severely doubted that.  

“Where is ‘here’ Billy?”  

“The big theatre uptown, the really big and serious one, it’s called the Paradise or para-something" 

“The Paramour?” Alastor asked. 

“Yeah, that one”  

Y/n’s theatre, and a body was found. “Could it be?” He thought. Had God heard his prayers and smote the woman down for him?  

Just as the amusing thought settled in, the ringing voice of Y/n from yesterday rung out in his mind, dampening his amusement in ice water.  

“Because you're not good enough, and you can’t stand that someone else is.” 

Y/n had defended him, not even knowing he was there. He supposed he wouldn’t want to see her dead, at least not right now.  

But still a body at her theatre? Interesting.  

“Let me get my coat and I’ll be there as soon as I can Billy”  

~ 

The damp of city streets discolored the bottom of Alastor’s trousers as he walked to the theater. The soles of his shoes kicking up small droplets of water as he picked up his pace seeing the entrance of the building barricaded to the public.  

There was an officer sitting in the foyer, keeping watch through the windows in the doors for possible trouble. As Alastor entered, the lad recognized him, tipping his hat as he walked past to the atrium proper.  

The stage sat dark, the house lights turned on to emphasize how utterly empty the theatre felt without the heat of bodies in seats and the swell of music in the air.  Alastor poked his head into the stage door he had entered with Mickey previously.  

Billy was there leaning against the white brick wall, scribbling feverously in a note pad.  

“Alastor, c’mon back” The top of Billy’s notepad smacked down with a thunk as he made off briskly down the hall. Billy was never one for pleasantries or beating around the bush. Alastor respected the gumption it took for someone to get straight to the point in situations like this. No doubt Billy probably was a very good detective. 

Just not quite good enough to catch him.  

The entrance to the wardrobe was tapped off, the pair ducking under to get in. There was a woman prone on the floor behind a worktable. Her eyes a ghostly white, mouth opened ever so slightly, like she had been cut off mid-sentence. Two large wounds sat symmetrically on either side of her torso. Knife punctures that looked like the weapon had been twisted in circles before being removed. More akin to the tooth punctures of a large animal than that of a man-made weapon. The skirt of the woman had been pushed up slightly to reveal the flesh or lack thereof on her shins and calves. The cutting was even and neat, like someone was cutting the skin for leather. And sure enough off to the side on a rack, the skin of the woman's legs was hung neatly on two hangers. Both in solid complete pieces. Like drying scraps of cloth.  

Alastor had to bite back a smile. That was funny and something he totally would have done had he thought of it. This copycat was good, he had to admit, this really did seem like one of his killings. However, unless he had a temporary bout of amnesia or insanity, Alastor was fairly certain he didn’t know the woman on the floor from Adam.  

“Was her skirt pushed up like this when you found her?” Alastor turned and questioned Billy.  

“No, when she was found her skirt was normal and her legs were crossed. One of my men pushed it up to get a report on the extent of the damage.” Alastor nodded, pondering the situation. For once he was actually helping the police investigate a crime.  

The absurdity of the situation was not lost on him.  

As Alastor knelt down to investigate further, he commented to William.  

“There is one thing I can’t help but be puzzled about here Billy” Alastor squinted as he gazed at the cadaver on the floor. Taking in blood splatter and saturation on the woman’s clothes and where she lay. For such a bloody act he expected there to be well... more blood.  

“And what’s that Al?” Alastor took a pen out if his pocket to inspect the woman’s hands, noticing several of her nails had fresh breaks.  

“You’re claiming this woman is a victim of the Bayou Butcher and yet-” Alastor straightened up, sticking his arms out and gesturing to the scenery around him. A glare that could only be described as sassy pointed at the detective. “Is there a gator or a swamp around here that I'm not seeing or?”   

“Haha” Billy mocked “Very funny, save it for when you’re on air Al” Alastor just simply rolled his eyes and went back to inspecting. “If you’ll recall, I'm fairly certain it was you who pointed out that, due to lack of blood evidence or viscera at the scene where the victims are being found, it’s likely the Butcher is killing these people somewhere else and dumping the bodies afterward.”  

‘Oh yeah’ Alastor thought, ‘I’d forgotten I'd tipped him off to that’ 

“Well that begs the question then Billy” Alastor didn’t take his eyes off the collar of the woman; something wasn’t right there. “What make her so special?”  

“Don’t know. Right now, the prevailing theory is that-” A man in a tweed suit knocked on the wall behind the taped entrance, calling William over. “I’ll be right back Al.”  

As the detective walked away, Alastor used the pen to pry down the high collar of the woman's shirt. “Why would a lady be wearing a turtle neck in May?” He thought. The pen slipped a few times before catching the fabric, he cursed at himself for forgetting to grab his gloves in his haste to get out the door. As the cloth was pulled down, large purple bruising marred the woman’s neck. A clear almost black ring of damage adored her like a necklace.  

Strangulation. The stabbing didn’t kill this woman, she was strangled first, likely by a rope judging by the clean even line of the bruise. The lack of blood splattering made sense now. Her heart wasn’t beating when she was stabbed, so there was nothing to pump the blood out of the wounds. The broken nails now also made sense. A large wound to the side piercing the lung like that wouldn't have given the victim time to fight before falling into shock or unconsciousness. But slowly losing your ability to breath would.  

Someone killed this woman, and made it look like it was his doing after the fact. Not a planned copycat, but a cover up copycat. 

‘Most likely a crime of passion then’ Alastor thought. ‘Something done in the heart of the moment and only covered up once the deed the had been done’ 

Yet the nature of the crime didn’t add up with the, expertise of the crime. The cuts on the woman were clean, so was the strangulation. Whoever did this had killed before.  

Alastor pondered on if he was actually going to tell Billy any of what he'd found when the detective ducked back into the room.  

“Well I've got at least a little good news.” Billy pulled the notepad from his pocket once more, jotting a few things down.  

“Oh?” Alastor quipped.  

“I think I know why this woman was left here.” Alastor stood back up gesturing at the detective.  

“Go on”  

“The timeline of yesterday goes like this”. Billy’s gaze shifted down to the pad in his hand.  

“Rehearsal started yesterday at 8 am for principal actors, 10 am for supporting cast. Principal actors were sent home for the day at 2pm. Sometime after the principals were sent home an incident occurred where a dancer fell off the stage. She’s not severely injured outside of a nasty twisted ankle. However, she was advised by the visiting doctor that she would likely not be able to perform for a while. The doctor noted the time of his departure at 3:07. According to the stage manager, a replacement was found, but several costuming adjustments were going to be needed.” 

Alastor hummed. “And this woman stayed late to catch up” Alastor speculated.  

“You’re getting ahead of me but yes. Both the stage director and show director attest that she insisted on staying late to finish some things. She was given a set of keys by the director and both men left together around 5:30”  

“So these two men where the last people at the theater before she was discovered.” Alastor asked to confirm. If that was the case then this seemed pretty cut and dry to him. These men were each other's alibi, and while they didn’t fit the profile in his head individually, maybe together they fit the bill.  

“Not quite” Billy stopped the theory being built in Alastor’s head with those two words.  

“Oh?” Alastor questioned.  

“The man who just came and got me was the translator. He just finished up with speaking to one of the principal cast members Y/n Leroux. According to her, after running some errands yesterday she noticed she was without her apartment keys. She came back to the theatre at around 6 to 6:30 to check if she had left them here. She knocked on the front and side entrances and no one answered. She left, had her landlord let her in, and called the director this morning to let her in to search for them. They were the ones who found the victim.”  

Alastor’s eyebrows furrowed. Once again, it all came back to Y/n.  

“Considering the incident with the dancer happened after she had left, there was no way for Miss. Leroux to know that someone was still here at that time. And according to her the doors were locked when she tried to open them.” 

“The doors were locked? Then that would mean the killer was likely already inside the building, or had already left.” Alastor thought out loud.  

“Based on the approximate time of death, it’s very likely Miss Leroux was back at the theatre either during or just after the murder. And just down that hallway,” Billy pointed to another opening behind some sewing machines that Alastor had failed to notice when first entering. “Is the side door that Miss Leroux was knocking on. So it seems like to me that Miss Leroux coming back and her knocking scared off the butcher before he could take his latest project with him.” 

“And we have confirmation that Miss Leroux did indeed go straight home last night?” Alastor asked slyly.  

“I’ll have to call her landlord to make sure, but considering the butcher has been at large for almost 3 years and Miss Leroux hasn’t been in the country 6 months, I’m fairly confident in ruling her out”  

“Ah yes that would completely rule Y/n out I suppose” Alastor commented. 

‘If this was the work of the butcher’ Alastor thought. But he knew it wasn’t. And while the idea of the two directors was still Alastor's most likely explanation, something about the way Y/n looked at him, told Alastor she fit the profile just a bit better.  

Alastor decided to hold off on telling Billy of his findings on the body. Perhaps he would do a little investigating himself. Actually do the reporting he claimed he did when speaking of his murders on the radio. Maybe he’d ask them for some ideas before killing them, after all they seemed like quite the creative little catch.  

Alastor strode out of the crime scene, poking his head in various rooms to see if the police had missed anything. He, reluctantly, had to give some praise to Mickey’s thorough tour of the back rooms of the theatre. He did know his way around much better now. As he approached a room, hushed speaking could be heard inside. Alastor ducked into a hidden nook, tucked between a costume rack and a large set piece of a store front. If he leaned in just the right way he could peer into the gap in the slightly ajar door.  

Y/n was packing back and forth, her eyes rimmed in red, holding herself as she muttered in French. Her face was stricken and the red tint of worried, furrowed lips was evident. Alastor couldn’t help but think his heart was a self-sabotaging menace as it panged for the woman in front of him. She really was the epitome of a girl who’d seen things she never should have. He hated to admit it, but with the way her eyes were shining and her face so morose, Y/n looked so enchantingly beautiful in ways Alastor couldn’t even being to describe.  

‘You were wishing she was dead this morning’ Some deep part of his brain thought. He tried shooing it away with the fact that that was this morning but it only responded with ‘You were accusing her of murder two minutes ago’. Just as he was in the midst of fighting with his own brain Alastor’s daze was broken by the voice of a man.  

“Miss, please sit. I know you had some similar troubles with your theatre back home, but let me reassure you this is nothing like that” The look Y/n gave the man Alastor couldn’t see made it clear she didn’t believe a word coming out of his mouth. She did reluctantly sit down in an air chair, but the pent up energy was escaping in the manic bouncing of a leg and tapping of fingers on her arms.  

“Let me get you something from my office, to help you settle” A short man in an olive suit stepped out of the room, closing the door .  

‘Damnit’ Alastor thought, his curiosity had gotten the better of him, and he needed to know more. That’s all it was, curiosity, not some sense of worry he felt for Y/n. No not at all, it defiantly wasn’t that. Alastor wracked his brain for where the administrative offices were. He didn’t remember seeing them, but the voice of Mickey rang out in his head, mentioning they were upstairs on the other side of the theatre.  

Alastor felt confident he had a good 10 minutes alone with Y/n, but just as he was poised to knock, he heard another male voice from inside the room.  

“Ya know Miss, if you’re so worried about the butcher, why don’t I start walking you home after rehearsals. I’d hate for something to happen to such a fair lass such as yourself.” Alastor rolled his eyes; he couldn't believe some man was trying to shoot his shot to a woman who’d seen a dead body less than four hours ago.  

“No” Y/n’s voice was the timidest Alastor had heard it. “I couldn’t take you from the show like that”  

“Nonsense darling, you know I’d do anything for you. Just like... you’d do anything for me right?” Alastor could feel the sleaze rolling off the gentleman as he spoke. Like it was a film that coated everything in the unwanted creature's presence.  

There was a beat of silence before a crisp “Sir” cut through the air from Y/n. That was the diva Alastor knew. He’d heard that tone before and knew a verbal beatdown was about the commence. Alastor’s smile widened  

“I don’t know what you think your-” The tension Alastor thought was gone sprung back as Y/n was interrupted.  

“Ya know Miss, with all this going on, they may have to make some ‘adjustments’ with the cast. Take some... unnecessary cast members out of the show. But you know I wouldn’t let that happen to you baby, I'd do anything for you, just like you’d do anything for me, right?”  

Y/n’s lack of response as the silence grew thicker and thicker was all the motivation Alastor needed to let several resounding knocks land on the door. He swore if the scum on the other side of the door answered it, he’d knock his teeth out.  

Such a low life, exploitative, cad had no business talking and treating Y/n that way.  

Y/n’s face greeted him as the door swung wide. Relief then confusion crossed her features. Her mouth made to say his name but he spoke over her quickly.  

“Tais-toi et laisse-moi t'aider” Alastor spoke to her, praying his French wasn’t too rusty for her to understand. She seemed to get it as Alastor looked over her shoulder to see the degenerate sitting on the edge of the air chair Y/n had been in.   

“Mr. Venderberg has some more questions for Miss Leroux.” Alastor didn’t give the scum time to argue as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and escorted her out.  

[hawkinsindiana]

an update

hi everyone. i’ve been a bit more inactive on here than usual and haven’t posted a new chapter in a bit over a month, and while i don’t really owe anyone an explanation, i feel it’s important to share. i want to share. stories and perspective have weight, and i know i’m not alone in this.

when it came to writing, the grip that validation, praise, or notes had on my motivation and creativity took over. i think i sort of lost sight of the fact that writing is supposed to be for me and i just so happen to post it online for others, not the other way around. i started worrying too much about whether or not it would be enjoyed by readers and less about the cool part, which is me coming up with plot and characterization and whatnot. writing became more of a ‘task’ and less of a hobby. the fun was stripped from it and i’m not super proud to admit that. in all honesty, it forced me into another bout of depression, worrying endlessly why writing hasn’t been coming to me as easily as before, why my favorite hobby seems to have slipped from me. it’s been incredibly painful.

it also wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to see that interaction from readers has sharply declined. to be simultaneously writing some of the work i’m most fond of and seeing the notes barely pass a hundred or not even reach that is incredibly draining. i know i’m not the only creator or writer with this issue and it has real effects. my drop in motivation combined with this was a perfect storm for me.

all of that being said, i think i’m finally starting to get back into the hang of things. i’ve been able to write small bits of the next chapter; while it might not be at the pace i wish, it’s better than it was before. i’ll take it. hopefully, i’d like to have it out by the new year, but no promises. one of the things i’m actually proud of has been my dedication to this single story and how i’ve been fairly consistently writing for over three years now. so i’m definitely not giving up, and i’m not gonna let this site put out my fire. part four will be finished; i don’t think i can live with myself if i don’t see it through. i pray the urge to write for s5 stays throughout the hiatus.

again, i probably didn’t need to say all this, but i wanted to. it’s important to be honest, especially about mental health. hopefully the next post from me will be a chapter (fingers crossed!). those of you that do continue to write comments and asks and reblog my work, i love you very much. going back and reading each of your thoughts has kept me going through this. ily ily <3

[thisnameisnotspokenfor]

The Kingdom of the Stars Chapter 18: The Solution

Previous: Chapter 17

Next: Chapter 19

“It’s a miracle! Isn’t it?” the florist, Mrs. Bellerose exclaimed to the guard and maintainer as the small thundercloud loomed over her shop. “With the passing heat wave, my plants have been having a rough time both at home and at the market. So I’ve had to close down shop a lot earlier than I need to. I wasn’t sure how I was going to get her ladyship the flowers she requested for the market decorations!” 

“So you made a wish to fix this?” The maintainer asked before glancing towards the scribe who was quickly transcribing their conversation.

Mrs. Bellerose eagerly nodded, blissfully unaware that she had been a recipient of the star’s power. “I did! I wished that there would be rain to water my plants whenever they needed and lo and behold!” She gestured to the now raining thundercloud above her stall. 

“Interesting. So when do you remember this appearing?”

“I think half an hour before Julian started wreaking havoc. It’s all somewhat fuzzy really…I think I was talking to a customer when it came out of nowhere and started watering my plants. It practically brought them back to life! It even helped me put out some of the flames so the nearby shops wouldn’t burn down!” Asha watched as she gestured to the collection of unscathed surrounding shops that thankfully had included Mr. Armin’s shop.

“Fascinating. A magical rain cloud that cannot only water plants but revive them…” the maintainer rubbed his chin.

“Should we collect the rainwater, my lord?” The guard murmured as the scribe paused. “Her story is almost identical to Kurkaus’s.”

The maintainer shook his head, muttering something unintelligible as Asha looked around the now-crowded clearing.

Making her way to the town square had been the easy part.

 It was trying to figure out how exactly she should go about addressing the now large crowd that had gathered that made her feel uneasy.

‘The people are waiting for you,’ she could hear her mind whisper. They were all understandably frightened and upset.

The unthinkable had happened.

Both in the best and worst of ways.

If any good were to come out of this then she needed to act quickly. 

Maybe she couldn’t give them answers but she could help to give them hope, and maybe even some purpose. An ambitious thought, no doubt, but it was still a feasible one.

Asha drew her breath as she felt her hand holding Lady Allard’s small metal ring tighten. Breathe in, breathe out.  

She could do this. 

She could do this.

She carefully stepped to the front of the crowd, taking her place next to Mrs. Chidera and several other officials while her eyes instinctually scanned the faces in front of her. 

Thankfully she could see that there were no signs of the star. 

At least he could tell when his presence wasn’t wanted or needed.

She looked over the crowd once more, this time she heard their whispers as they exchanged uncertain glances 

“ What are we going to do?”

“All of the decorations were destroyed! Nothing could be salvaged.”

“Lady Allard was burned very badly and won’t be able to lead us.”

“I hear the king is coming this evening. What will we do if he sees our market so barren?!”

As if on cue, she saw Mrs. Chidera step forward, clearing her throat as she silenced the worried crowd with a simple wave. 

Finally, she spoke, “Now I’m sure many of you are aware of the terrible events that have occurred today-,” she paused, soaking in a few worried nods and murmurs of the onlooking crowd.

“What happened with Julian?”

“How was he setting the market on fire?”

“Where is he now?”

“Will Lady Allard be alright?”

Asha turned to Mrs. Chidera, partially relieved when she heard the woman say, “Julian is being kept in custody. Meanwhile, our current investigations are looking into both the cause and motivations of the perpetrator’s actions. Answers will be given in due time, as Lady Allard is currently being treated for her injuries.”

The crowd murmured, thinking over her statement before someone finally asked, “What are we going to do about the town decorations?”

Now even Mrs.Chidera was looking towards her as if she was supposed to be the one who had that answer.

She was, wasn’t she?

It seemed as if word traveled fast in this part of Rosas. Too fast.

“Ah,” she coughed clearing her throat as her mind quickly began to wonder how to go about this.

Addressing the people would’ve been so much easier if she had had the charisma of the king or the regalness of the queen. Those things that drew attention, that demanded respect . But what did she have?

A few sketches and a nice ring.

Yikes . 

“Hola. Shalom. Salam! Greetings,” she called the crowd. 

She was surprised when she heard some of them murmur before a few began to applaud. 

The applause of course quickly died down but there was no denying the look of renewed interest in the eyes of several officials and nobles who were scattered in the crowd. Nobles that she was sure would’ve gladly agreed with Lady Allard’s earlier description of her as the quotidian apprentice. 

But drastic times had called for drastic measures and she could see behind the interest in their eyes was desperation . 

She took another deep breath as she began to slowly explain. “So…As some of you may know, I’ve been sent here on behalf of the king to oversee the market decorations. Now, given the recent developments and discussions I’ve had with Lady Allard, we’ve decided that it would be in our best interests to take the market decorations in a new direction.”

“A new direction?” She heard one of the nobles from the crowd repeat, clearly, not sounding impressed. “What do you mean by a new direction?”

She swallowed, her throat feeling suddenly dry as she willed herself to stay calm. “Ah well, you see many years ago before Lady Allard rose to power we decorated the market very differently.”

“Yeah, I remember-,” someone in the audience nodded.

“It was also back then that the king didn’t grant many, if any of our wishes,” she heard another nobleman point out.

“So you’re suggesting we go back to doing that?” One person asked somewhat incredulously while turning to Asha. “And not get any of our wishes granted?!”

She quickly shook her head, “What?! No! I’m just suggesting that-,”

“If we go back to that time then there’s a good chance he won’t grant our wishes!” someone else interjected.

“He liked Allard’s decorations for a reason! How are we supposed to replicate that?!”

“We can’t! They cost a small fortune and had to be commissioned months in advance what are we going to do?!?”

“He’s totally going to grant the west side’s wishes this year. I’m calling it.”

“The fact that he’s sent an apprentice probably meant this was a test of sorts.”

“A test that we spectacularly failed!” Someone wailed. 

She watched as a nobleman began to shake with anger, gritting out, “This is all Julian’s fault! I knew we should’ve turned him in sooner!”

“We should’ve sent that lad to Antaris for the first little stunt he pulled!”

“I always knew Lady Allard was too soft with him!”

The apprentice who had been with Lord Castelli at the fountain furiously shook his head, “Soft?! Sir, I saw her try to stab him when he attacked us earlier! If you truly think she was soft with him then I don’t know what to tell you!” 

“Oh dear,” Lady Chidera murmured as she placed her hand on her forehead as the murmurs of the crowd grew louder and louder. 

“You can tell me why the king decided to grant his wish with all the others!” 

A person pointed at the nobleman accusingly, while snapping “Didn't you hear that they said that they’re still doing an investigation?!” Now several more voices joined in, all attempting to speak over one another as Asha helplessly looked on.

“I-wait, this wasn’t, ha,” she nervously glanced around the dissatisfied crowd before her eyes landed on a few figures now entering the clearing. 

It was Abigail and her friends returning from their visit with Lady Allard and the other injured officials. 

She wasn’t sure what would’ve been said during that visit but from the girls' downtrodden expression, Asha couldn’t help but worry that not all was well.

Her thoughts were only confirmed when she saw the last figure trailing after them. 

It was the star. He was carrying the child he’d rescued from the crowd earlier before turning to say something to a downtrodden Abigail.

Asha wasn’t sure what the star had told the girl but whatever it had seemed to lift her spirits as she smiled, turning to the star to reply. 

Hmph . Figures the star would be having fun as he’d left her behind to deal with the mess.

Typical magic user behavior. 

But she hadn’t come this far just to give up. She was so close. She could feel it, and nothing was going to stop her from finishing and making it home in time for Saba’s birthday. 

Not the king.

Not Julian. 

Not the star.

And especially not a crowd. 

“PEOPLE OF ROSAS!” She yelled, her voice echoing through the clearing as she watched the crowd go silent. 

If her mood hadn’t soured she might’ve laughed at the shocked expressions shared by both the crowd and Mrs. Chidera. 

She hadn’t known she could be that loud. Granted she’d never wanted nor needed to be until now. 

Raising your voice when you worked for the Royal family or persuaded nobles was a first-class ticket to failure but these were strange times weren’t they? And with the impressive number of common folk in the crowd she was sure she could get away with it- for now.

Resuming the proper posture that she’d been trained to use, Asha spoke calmly, “If you will please allow me to fully explain my plan then I’m sure I can properly address your concerns.” Listening to the crowd’s silence she continued, “The reason why I say we take it in the new decoration is that as many of you know before Lady Allard came the market was decorated differently. Maybe it wasn’t to the king’s exact tastes but it was us. It was what we were, and who we were! And yes I know many of us may not be as rich or as affluent as the West but we have something that they do not!” she boldly addressed the crowd watching as some of them exchanged glances.

“Taxes?” She heard someone ask.

She shook her head, chuckling, “Ha, no. Maybe in another country, but not here.” The person nodded as she continued, “What I’m trying to say is that we are just as much of Rosa’s as they are. Look around,” she gestured to the crowd watching as some people looked at their neighbors and then back at her. “We have people from every corner of the world, every walk of life, and every perspective. We are the culmination of the king’s promise to the world, of Rosas's promise to the world as a safe haven where people can stay and coexist in harmony! Isn’t that something wonderful that should be celebrated?”

She heard the crowd mumble answers before she spoke once more, her voice growing stronger, “The West may have the wealth but we, we are the spirit . We cannot be bought or sold. Imported or exported. We are crafted! Forged! In our unique way! A way that was always expressed in the market.” 

She was rambling now, but for what it was worth it seemed like it was working. The people’s unease was waning as she saw a few of them nod in agreement. 

They were listening! 

Maybe she could do this! 

“But what of our wishes?” she heard a noblewoman ask. “Do you think the king will still grant them if he isn’t as impressed as he usually is? What do we do then?”

“We will do what we always do,” Lady Chidera spoke up. “As the king chooses to protect all wishes regardless of whether or not they are immediately granted. So if we can trust him to protect our wishes then we can trust him to judge us fairly given our circumstances.”

“And besides You heard someone say it,” came Mr. Leitus’s voice. “Wishes were granted earlier today, weren’t they? Which by all means points to involvement from the king himself!” 

A few maintainers exchanged glances as she heard the surprised crowd mull this over.

“Do you think it’s true?”

‘Could the king himself really be involved?”

“Well he is the only one allowed to practice magic, isn’t he? So he must’ve had something to do with their wishes being granted!”

“It’s certainly a possibility, isn’t it? I’ve heard of the king granting wishes every now and then.”

 As if on cue she saw a few eyes turn to a blushing Ana levitating a few inches off the ground. Mrs. Kurkaus and Mrs. Bellerose glanced at each other's snow cloud and rain cloud respectively before grinning. 

According to Mrs. Chidera and the other maintainers, six wishes have been granted today. Six . 

“If the king has chosen to grant the wishes of our people ahead of time then he surely must find some favor with us!” Mrs. Zahra called as a few others nodded in agreement.

“Who’s to say that this wasn’t what he planned all along? Not the injury part but the pursuing a new creative direction? Surely it can’t be a coincidence!” Mrs. Akinemi exclaimed, earning herself some nods and murmurs.

“The king has given us a chance to show him what we are capable of! So it only makes sense that we show him our best, don’t you agree?” She heard Mr. Armin call as a choir of agreement arose from the crowd.

This had to have been what? The second or third time the king had indirectly assisted her in these past few days which was unsurprising, to say the least. 

As she’d said before it’d always been a lot easier for people to believe in a magical king than some motivational words from a regular girl, right?

Her question was answered as she watched their smiles return. The words of her teacher had hit their mark.  Now the people wanted to help.

She should’ve been happy, right?

Looking over the crowd of once uncertain and upset faces only to see people now looking a bit more confident and assured than ever should have made her happy and it did.

She just wished that it hadn’t been because of the king and his magic. 

She glanced over the crowd once more this time catching sight of the star sitting by the fountain.

He was still holding the child he had rescued from earlier, and for a moment a small yet foolish part of her hoped he’d heard them give the king credit for his wish granting and she’d hoped it would at least irritate the star.

Maybe it would show him just how unneeded he truly was.

But that hope seemed to die as she took in the star’s expression. He didn’t seem sad, irritated, or even surprised.

No, he was smiling . 

Truly smiling, and although his hair was obscuring his eyes she could tell that there was a note of sincerity in his smile. 

No no. That couldn’t be right.

He should have been upset, granted could that spell mortal peril for all? Well yes, but it would’ve at least made more sense than the expression his face held now. 

Why was he so hard to read?

Had the young apprentice and her crowd not been so occupied perhaps she would’ve been afraid. But she was busy now, so she’d deal with the star later. 

“If the king is expecting something from us then it’s best we not disappoint him! What is the plan?”

“Well!” Asha called while pulling out her sketchbook. “I think I might have a few ideas for where we can start.”

“There we go,” she heard the star’s voice gently call as he finished wrapping the small bandage around the child’s knee. “The magic in the band-aid will have you feeling better in no time, ok?”

She nodded, wiping her eyes, “Thank you,” she sniffled her eyes meeting his before she let her feet dangle over the edge of the fountain.

He’d taken a seat next to her until he exclaimed, “Oh! Silly me I nearly forgot to give you this!” The star carefully pulled out the child’s once-destroyed doll from his cloak. 

“Luna!” The girl exclaimed, a smile returning to her face as she reached for her doll.

The star laughed, handing it back to her as she hugged it tightly. “You fixed her!”

“Just as promised,” the star grinned, before gesturing to the small makeshift bandage on the doll’s leg. “See? Now you both can get better together.”

“Thank you…” The child squeezed her toy even tighter as the two relaxed near the fountain once more looking through the passing crowd of busy decorators and planners.

After a moment or so, a familiar figure of a woman who resembled the child’s mother stepped forward from out of the crowd. 

She looked absolutely exhausted as her arms sported new bandages and her dress was torn in several new places. But any pain she felt seemed to pale in comparison to the happiness that filled her eyes as she approached the star and the child.  

“I got it! I got it!” Abigail cried pulling Asha’s attention away from the star as she watched the girl hold the bird triumphantly over her head as everyone began to laugh. 

“You did!” Mizuki chuckled. 

“Thank you,” Abigail beamed, before reaching to take a cookie from a nearby platter that the baker had made for them. “I’m definitely going to put my bird on the top branch. It’s the least it deserves for carrying the tree.”

Maria laughed before taking a bite of her cookie. “Yours looks better than mine- look his beak is falling off!”

“My bird almost looks like a stick!”  Moireach exclaimed as all the girls at the table laughed. 

It had nearly taken Asha a second to remember where or who she was, but to her surprise, it didn’t bother her as much as she thought it would have. 

It had been a shock when they’d offered her a head at the seat of the table where they’d be folding the paper cranes. 

After all that seat was reserved only for the upper class. So she’d refused initially until the officials had subtly reminded her that she’d been working on Lady Allard’s behalf.

Both out of duty and (unbeknownst to them) guilt.

Nevertheless, they’d been making remarkable progress. They’d divided and conquered the market as they’d broken up the crowd of decorators and volunteers into smaller groups.

As expected everyone had ideas on how to decorate their own corners, with some even volunteering to use the decorations that they’d saved from the past.

Save for the occasional look of hesitation, and uncertainty from some of the volunteers, Asha was willing to bet that things would go very well for the market decorations.

She watched as a few children played underneath Mrs. Kurkaus ’s snow cloud, running to and fro to eagerly catch snowflakes as Mrs. Kurkaus diligently worked on a treat that she had promised would be fit for a king.

A few others had been stationed near the fountain to help Mr. Leitus with his chalk murals. 

Finally, he stood up and dusted his hands off as he proudly observed his artwork.

“And that my dear pupils! Is how we use the Fibonacci sequence in art!” he declared to a choir of oohs and aahs. His mural was beautiful, the composition exquisitely displaying the king and queen along with several historical figures of Rosas. The colors were beautifully bright as she took note of the golden hues he’d used to decorate the night sky.

The king would love it, that much Asha was sure of.

Laughter caught her attention as she watched Mrs. Alina along with several other adults lead group dances. 

The children cheered and laughed as they mimicked the steps. The dances looked familiar but different. Mrs. Alina must’ve added several new steps as the kids and adults followed after her, transitioning from one style of dance to the next as she watched another adult step in, taking the lead.

The styles changed as did the tempo of the music.

Valentino had also busied himself convincing some of the smaller animals of the market to help with positioning the decorations in the trees. Squirrels raced up the branches, carrying some of Mr. Armin’s makeshift streamers, while birds and rats helped to remove litter from the streets.

Everything was perfect. 

“Cepheus!” she heard Abigail’s voice cut through her thoughts as she followed her gaze towards the star who was now sitting alone by himself. “Why don’t you come and join us? We have plenty of room at the table!” she gestured to the seat at the other end of the table, a spot that the star most certainly did not deserve.

Scratch that, everything was nearly perfect.

The other girls quickly nodded, gesturing to the seat as she watched one of them pull it out for the star.

No.

From the time she’d been running around helping organize and integrate everyone’s input as well as arranging for the supplies to be distributed, the star had seemingly gained even more admirers!

There had to have been some cruel joke in here somewhere, she was sure of it.

“Are you sure?” Cepheus asked, as the girls fervently nodded, quickly assuring him that his presence was well wanted at the table. “Alright then,” he called, as Asha watched him saunter over to the table as he seated himself. His posture was perfect as he looked around the table full of admiring girls and called “Thank you all for inviting me.”

Asha gritted her teeth as she heard Abigail and all the others answer in unison, “Anytime!”

“It was no problem!” That was a lie.

“Hi!” One girl called, laughing as she waved to Cepheus who waved back.

“Hey Cepheus,” Abigail called as she subtly leaned towards him. “Have you ever thought about moving here to Rosas? Permanently?”

‘NO !’ Asha mentally yelled. It took everything in her to not scream out the many many reasons the star should not even consider moving to Rosas. 

She heard the star hum a thoughtful answer. “I’ll admit I haven’t given it much thought lately.”

‘And he never would,’ she mentally whispered to herself as she reached for the nearby platter of cookies, quietly yet gracefully taking her anger out on the first cookie she grabbed hold of. 

Thankfully no one noticed. 

They couldn’t. Not when all eyes were on the Star who reached for one of the papers, briefly listening to a now blushing Mizuki’s instructions before he set out to work.

“Yeah, you’re not eighteen yet, right?” Maria asked. “Because if you’re not we could always put in a good word for you, you know, to get your wish granted.”

“And judging from how things are going you’re very likely to get it granted too!” Abigail gestured to Ana who was now teaching her birds how to perform, or maybe they were teaching her how to fly. It was hard to tell. 

“The king must be in a good mood if he decided to grant six wishes today!”

“Ha ha! I bet the Westerners will be furious!”

“Furious doesn’t even begin to cover it! Do you remember that one official’s face at the ceremony last year? He looked like he’d swallowed a bunch of sour grapes!” Asha couldn’t quite stifle her laughter as she too remembered the sour expression on Lord Abaraca’s face and how satisfying it had been.

“Your king can grant wishes?” the star murmured, his words hitting her like a bucket of cold ice. 

Asha halted mid-bite. Oh no. Oh no no no! She hadn’t meant for the star to learn that! Maybe her screaming and him knowing this was all the excuse he needed before finally unleashing his wrath on all of Rosas. 

She cringed as she heard  Moireach answer, “Of course! Our king is rather extraordinary, you know!”

“He only grants the wishes of those he deems worthy,” Mizuki added.

“Can he grant any type of wish? Like those with the clouds and fire?” the star asked while pointing to Mrs. Bellerose’s thundercloud while Ana soared overhead.

The rest of the girls eagerly nodded, before gesturing to the market around them. “He can do anything. I mean have you seen his magic? I mean just look around! He’s one of if not the strongest sorcerers ever!”

“If you stick around a bit longer, you might be able to see something even better,” Abigail whispered as she leaned toward the star. “Seeing as how our king is in a rather generous mood as of late.”

The star didn’t react, only merely grinning and nodding as his expression failed to betray even the slightest bit of curiosity or surprise at their words before he turned his attention back to his work. 

That wasn’t good. That wasn’t good at all.

She wasn’t sure which was worse, the fact that the star was learning too much or the fact that she couldn’t read his reactions as well as she’d hoped.

She’d have to look into this later she decided before she too began to fold more paper cranes. 

Asha would always argue that no matter what anyone had told him that day, his first paper crane didn’t even look like a crane.

 It looked more like an eagle, which he himself had more or less confirmed when he’d proudly named it Aquila, most likely after the eagle constellation.

It’d taken him another try to make the crane, to which she’d hear Mizuki say, “There you go! You’re a natural at this!”

“Thanks!” the star grinned, before folding up another paper crane and then another and another. If the girls weren’t too busy gawking at him then they definitely would’ve been frightened by the near inhumane speed he was folding the cranes at.

But alas, no one noticed and it didn’t make sense to complain when he was actually listening for once, did it?

Soon all the girls were cooing and awing at the star’s numerous paper cranes. 

“They’re not that good,” Asha mumbled under her breath before turning to her small crowd of surrounding paper cranes.

“Did you say something, Asha?”

She shook her head, “Oh no, I was just thinking about my crane folding technique, you know. Just trying to perfect it.” She really needed to get better at telling lies. She rested her paper crane down as she glared across the table, her eyes finally meeting the star. 

His once stormy gray eyes were now the same brilliant blue as the clear sky that hung overhead. Were…were his eyes changing colors? Come to think of it they’d been neither grey nor blue yesterday, right? She wasn’t going crazy!

“Wow,” Abigail sighed, dreamily looking more at the star than his paper cranes. “Smart, good-looking, and funny- is there anything you can’t do?” 

The star paused thoughtfully, “Yes. I can’t seem to achieve a certain someone’s happiness.”

She rolled her eyes, as All the girls leaned forward, their attention at the mercy of the star as Abigail asked, “You can’t make someone happy?”

“Does she have a heart made out of stone?” one of the girls asked. Um rude much?!? Asha frowned. 

The star wasn’t half as slick or witty as he thought he was by admitting this out loud.

“Who is it?” Maria pleaded.

“You can tell us!” Assured another.

“I swear we won’t judge!” Someone else promised. It was a little too late for that, wasn’t it? She hadn’t forgotten their heart-of-stone comment.

The star let out a small chuckle before leaning back in his chair. For a second, Asha could’ve sworn that he looked away before looking back to his admirers. “Well…I would but, respectfully I don’t need to give her another reason to try to you know….”

“Kill you?! Are you saying this person would want to kill you?!” Maria called incredulously.

“I’ll get back to you after I consult my legal advisor,” the star promised.

“I noticed you said her …so this person you’re trying to please is a girl?”

He nodded. “Yes! She is!” The star was really trying to get her murdered, wasn’t he? Well, it was either that or banished, whichever one came first, she supposed.

“Do we know her?” Abigail asked.

“Probably better than I do,” the star answered cryptically.

“Well, you know if things don’t work out with her-,” 

“Maria!” Mizuki scolded.

She shrugs, taking a cookie for herself. “What? Admit it, it’s what we were all thinking.” The table fell silent, seemingly proving her point. 

“Anyways, what happened between you and her that makes you so certain that you can’t earn her happiness?” Abigail asked.

The star shifted uncomfortably, “It’s…complicated. But a mistake was made and now she’s very upset with me.”

“Is it your fault?” one of the girls asked. 

He frowned. “...Most likely yes? But I’m not really sure what I should do. I mean I’ve tried apologizing, but I feel like an apology is…not enough.” Uh oh. Why was Asha hearing music? Granted Ms. Zahra and several other musicians were there but some of the sounds she was hearing weren’t from the instruments they were playing. 

“Well then! I think you’ve come to the right place! Because trust me no one knows better about a girl than another girl.” Would you do the honors, Mrs. Zahra?”

“With pleasure!” She replied as Asha listened to her change her violin’s tune as several other musicians on the bongos, castanets, vihuela, and bagpipes, joined her.

Finally! Music with a visible source! Asha would’ve cried tears of happiness if she hadn’t begun to hear instruments that lacked visible musicians join in.

Uh oh.

They were going to sing this, weren't they?

Did they even have time for a song? Asha could think of a thousand reasons why they didn’t, with the first reason more or less being that there was still so much work to be done!

But it seemed as if none of those reasons mattered as, she watched the girls begin to sing, folding their paper cranes in unison. 

Their harmonies were perfect as they stood up, pulling the star and an unwilling Asha along with them toward the center of the market.

If Asha weren’t being held hostage she probably would’ve done one of two things. A) search for the sounds of the instruments that clearly weren’t there. Or B) laugh at the fact that a star of all beings was taking relationship advice from the worst possible age group: teenagers.

Granted the star did look like a teenager and he sort of acted like one too, but for all anyone could’ve known he was probably older than everyone in this market combined. 

They spun in unison, cutting off any chance of escape as Asha heard them sing to the star about their past exaggerated relationships that ended in either humor or disaster.

They’d passed on ‘advice’ some that were rather valid and others completely ridiculous, as she watched more and more people begin to join in on the song. The adults had taken subtle shots at the teenagers before offering the star their advice which the elders had promptly dismissed.

Asha had to give it to them, despite the inconvenience of the song’s timing it was catchy. So she’d definitely rank it higher than the animal's attempted musical number (which she’d never forgive the star for subjecting her to.)

Then the star joined in cementing Asha’s annoyance to anger as she heard the crowd harmonize and cheer.

She hated how good of a singer he was as he joined in on the dancing.

She hated how easily he seemed to fit in. 

She hated how easily everything had gone his way. 

It was all because of her and her efforts that this whole decoration session had come together. But you wouldn’t be able to tell that from how the people were pouring all their attention into the star- the being who had recklessly led to the destruction of the market decorations.

But she wouldn’t let them know that she couldn’t.

So the star would get off easy in the eye of the public. 

He was a magical man in a magical kingdom after all; so it was only natural that he’d be in his element. Happy, lively, respected, and loved.

He’d be just another magical person who’d probably take her work for granted. Just like the king and maybe even the prince. The prince’s plan that had purposefully excluded her hadn’t escaped her but it had hurt. 

Maybe she should’ve wished to live somewhere else far away from magic and magical people…

Valentino’s pleating brought her thoughts to a halt as the clearing was filled with dancing couples of all ages. Everyone had a dancing partner.

Well, almost everyone. 

She caught sight of the star standing on the other side of the market as the dancing couples continued to spin around them. He let go of the girl's hand he was dancing with as she watched her join someone else.

He must’ve danced with every girl in the market today.

Well, almost every girl.

Now they were the only two without dancing partners.

His bright blue eyes met hers- meaning- were they supposed to dance together?

Her? Dance with him ? 

Before she knew it, he was starting to approach. His hand slowly lifted towards her direction.

 He was acting like he hadn’t been the one to endanger everyone here or put her on the path to banishment. 

“No,” she grounded out, roughly turning away.

 The plan was to storm away, as far away as she could from the star and it would’ve worked too had Edda not come into view the second she turned around.

“Ahh!” Edda exclaimed as she heard the music cut out and the dancers come to a halt. “Geeze Asha! You almost ran me over! I’ve heard of people shooting the messengers but never stomping them!”

Asha took a step back. “Sorry, sorry! But what were you doing standing so close behind me anyway?! Didn’t I tell you to not sneak up on people?”

Edda nodded, “You did. Right before your grandpa told me to ignore that.”

She sighed, rolling her eyes, “Of course, he did… anyway what sort of message do you have?”

She blinked, blankly staring at Asha. “Message? Oh right! You need to come quickly!” she exclaimed, quickly tugging Asha’s dress. 

“What is it?” she heard Mrs. Alina ask.

Kelsie ran into view her cheeks flushed as all heard her say, “It’s the old wilted tree! You all need to come see it! Now!”

Asha could hear a hushed murmur ripple through the crowd as they all followed after her and the children toward the tree in question. 

Dread filled her as Asha asked, Edda, “What’s happening to the tree this time?”

“See for yourself!” Edda replied as she pointed towards the tree.

Asha gasped, her feet coming to a still as she took in the sight of the tree. A gasp arose from the crowd as she took an uncertain step forward.

“What….what in the world?” she whispered, rubbing her eyes in disbelief. She wasn’t dreaming, was she? She couldn’t be.

But there was no explanation for what stood before her.

What had once been an ugly twisted tree, had now been replaced by a completely different tree.

This new tree was at least twice the size of the old wilted tree, with beautifully blossoming branches replacing what had once been sharply angled barren ones. The once pitch-black trunk was now a mixture of black, azure, and cerulean with small golden dots that reached even its tallest branch. 

This couldn’t have been the same tree, could it? She wondered as a lovely fragrance filled the air with traces of vanilla, and maybe even cinnamon as she watched a gentle breeze blow the softly glowing petals down onto the market below.

“Do you smell that?” Mr. Armin inhales deeply. “It smells like food-,”

“Or flowers!” Mrs. Bellerose added.

“It’s beautiful!” Mrs. Alina breathed, placing a hand over her heart as everyone looked on in awe as the golden petals continued to fill the air.

“Remarkable, even,” Mrs. Chidera breathed as she adjusted her glasses before examining a glowing leaf. “What…what happened here?” she exclaimed.

“We don’t know!” Edda answered as she watched a few kids run to catch some flower petals. “One second it was shaking and then next it started growing and blossoming! Now look at it!”

“It’s almost like it’s a completely different tree!” the star exclaimed as he smugly grinned at the tree. 

Had he known this would happen? The somewhat smug expression on his face as she saw his eyes widen seemed to concur. But how had he made this happen? When had it happened?

“You weren’t kidding when you said I’d see something else if I stuck around long enough,” the star called to Abigail and her friends who looked surprised as he gestured to the tree. “The king really outdid himself with this one!”

“Now you’re getting it!” Abigail replied with a smile. “His power and command over magic is truly unmatched!” Several people began to cheer, and as Asha watched even some of the maintainers and Mrs. Chidera began to nod in agreement. 

Mrs. Chidera hummed, the corners of her lips twitching upwards as she examined the tree once more. She sighed, muttering something that vaguely sounded like “Well no one ever said what kind of tree it was…” Asha warily watched her rejoin her colleagues, some of whom seemed to be sharing her concern as she watched them speak to each other in low mumbles.

“ How did this happen?”

“Something strange is happening.”

“Perhaps it was also the king’s doing?”

“To revive the old wilted tree? Not likely.”

But whatever concern they were feeling was lost to the rest of the people seemed to soak in the tree’s newfound beauty. 

Their faces were brighter as she heard one simple word quietly echo throughout the crowd, “attestation.”

They must’ve thought that this too was a sign from the king. Just like the maintainers did, and just like how the star had said-

Wait.

Why had the star said the king had done this?

He didn’t seem upset by the notion of people thinking that the king had granted the wishes earlier. In fact, he’d even seemed to openly invite the idea of seeing more displays of the king’s power….

It was almost as if he had wanted this to happen.

He had wanted the king to get the credit for the wishes…but why?

Was it because Julian’s wish had gone sour? Or was he playing at something else?

She shook her head, banishing such thoughts as she turned her attention back to the crowd who’d begun to slowly but surely reluctantly trickle away from the tree. But she’d noticed that there was a difference in the way they were acting now. Their smiles lingered as their steps grew stronger. 

They nearly looked eager.

Good. There was still work to be done, work that had to be finished before the king arrived, she reminded herself as she followed them.