#and hello new mutuals. its nice to meet you

[superhell]

contrary to what i thought would happen. i am gaining followers from being insane about house on main

[pasteidolons]

pincushion - jww

pairing: tailor!jeon wonwoo x bookbinder!reader genre: 1960's, romance, angst, fluff, smut (MDNI 18+) warnings: swearing, alcohol, smut (p in v, unprotected sex, oral sex), no use of y/n, afab reader, an overabundance of 60's references oops word count: 19.9k summary: when a newly appointed tailor stops into your shop one autumn morning, you're unaware the impact he would have on your life for better or for worse.

1963, Autumn. The small knife in hand cuts through the thin leather with relative ease, stopping at the point you’d marked with a small piece of chalk, you switch to cut the other end of the material. You eye the coffee sitting on the opposite end of your work bench, watching the steam rise from the cup that you’d barely taken a drink from. It’s only nine in the morning and you hadn’t slept well the night before, had there not been any orders to fill you would have slept in a while longer. 

With the leather finally cut into its allotted pieces you go to move to the bound paper you were trying to cover before you hear someone walk in. The chimes above the door at the front of your shop sound off with a soft resonance, the same sound that had echoed the room for years. Footsteps tread carefully into the center of your shop, you can’t eye the stranger from your closed off workshop unless you open the heavy wooden door. 

A quiet “Hello?” rings out, they sound apprehensive and unfamiliar to you. There’s a tinged worry that treads on the lone word, leaving you all the more perplexed as you set down the leather and the semicircular knife onto your workshop table and head out into the main gallery of your shop. 

“Can I help you?” Question falling from your lips as soon as you begin to push open the oak door, finding a taller man looking down at one of the fabric laden books on one of the display tables. 

“Oh,” his attention turns to you from the book, to the doorway you’d entered from and then back to you.  The horn-rimmed glasses adorning his face slipping down the bridge of his nose. “I’m here to pick up an order for Seungcheol Choi.” His slender hand moves from its once stagnant position to push the glasses back up before moving to his right-side front pocket, “I can show you the receipt if you need it—”

“There’s no need,” you shake your head and raise your hand. Seungcheol had been a longtime customer of your family’s shop, you assume it’s mostly because of a mutual acquaintance with the Hong clan, but you would never be the one to edge into that conversation unprovoked. “I’ll go and grab your order,” a short smile and you’re turning on your heels and striding into your storeroom/workshop once more. 

When you walk back out a few moments later, the books wrapped in brown paper to protect their covers, the stranger is once again looking down at the assortment of books atop your display tables. 

“So,” you begin as you hold out the bound books to him, “are you new? I don’t think Seungcheol has sent you before.”

He takes the books gingerly, his gaze returning to the soft leather-bound journal after he gives you a short nod in thanks. As if it took him a moment to process the question he blinks and turns back to you, “Sorry— My name’s Wonwoo Jeon. I started working for Seungcheol last week.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” you nod, trying to register the face with the name as comprehensively as you could. “Tell him to give me a ring when he needs his next order, I know he goes through those fairly quickly.”

“I will,” Wonwoo smiles, “Before I go do you think I could buy this?” His head nods down to the maroon colored leather-bound journal he’d been eyeing earlier, “It’s absolutely gorgeous.”

A small smile gracing your lips, “Of course, it’s unlined though. Is that alright?”

“It’s perfect, thank you,” he says as you pick up the book as his hands were already burdened with his boss’ order. “How much do I owe you?”

“No charge,” you shake your head, fingers tightening along the spine. It’s smooth but the ridges of the leather run coarse under your touch, “Think of it as a congratulatory gift for getting a job under Choi. I know he has a reputation for being a bit of a—”

“Hard-ass?” Wonwoo muses, eyes widening as he realizes how he’s just insulted his boss. “And really, I can pay for that, I’m sure it must’ve taken you a while to make it.” 

“I’m not sure if that’s the exact term I was looking for, but it does fit,” you laugh, raising the book up. “Don’t worry about it, do you want me to wrap it?” 

“If you could,” he offers a smile as you move to the roll of brown paper atop the register table. 

It only takes a minute for you to cover it, you’d done hundreds, if not thousands, of wrappings for novels and books. Once you finish tying the twine bow atop the journal, you gently stack it on the books Wonwoo holds. 

“I hope to see you here again, Mr. Jeon. That is, if Seungcheol doesn’t scare you off.”

“He’s like a weird mix of my dad and what I’d expect Hardy Amies to be,” you weren’t sure exactly who Amies is or what Wonwoo’s father was like, but you did know Seungcheol. Oddities and all. “And don’t worry, I have a stronger resolve than most,” he shoots you a wink before spinning on his heels and heading towards the door. He calls out, “Thanks again for the book!” before shoving the door open with his hip and losing himself in the crowd of the street outside.

1963, Winter There was nothing quite like the holiday season in New York. Shops elevated the grandeur of their storefronts to catch the eye of window shoppers. Your own shop had seen an influx of patrons, as was typically the case around this time of year. But the demands were great, your hands had the slew of papercuts and hastily put on bandages to show it. Not that you minded it all too much, it was great revenue and it had paid for the camel hair coat you donned this evening. 

The city was abuzz with life and festivities along almost every street, and while the excitement from Hanukkah and Christmas had died down over the last few weeks, most now looked towards the reining in of a New Year as December thirty first arrived. 

“We’re going to be late,” Vernon’s arm slides under yours, the crux of his arm locking into yours as his pace quickens along the dimly lit street. The sound of his derbies clicking against the pavement reverberating around the nearly empty row of houses. 

“It’s ten and we’re going to a New Year’s Eve party, I doubt we’ll be late, Vernon.” You let out a scoff, fumbling with your bag for a moment, not sure what you were searching for in the first place. The streetlamp’s orange glow does not aid you in deciphering the numbers etched into the doorways of the homes. 

“Says the person who took five years to pick out a jacket, I’m surprised we got out of your apartment before my hair turned gray— Wait a minute,” his fingers of his free hand trailing up to the dyed platinum locks on his head as he turns back to shoot you a glare, “It did.”

“You’re such a drama queen,” eyes rolling, you nudge him with your shoulder “It’s not my fault your stylist bleached you instead of dyeing you.”

“I feel like an idiot, they can’t even see me to fix it for another week.” He groans as the pair of you make your way to a brownstone tucked away neatly into one of the city’s streets. It would be innocuous from the others aligning the strip had you not been able to hear the gentle buzz of chatter and the occasional laugh drift out from the screened door. 

“Did Hong invite the whole block?” Vernon murmurs as he lets go of your arm so that he can jump up the short handful of stairs to the front door two by two. 

“It would explain how dead the rest of the street seems,” Musing, you follow him, more carefully as you’d always seemed prone to falling up stairs. The voices grow in volume and now you can even hear the scratchy sound of some music floating from the door. There’s no one at the door to greet you when you walk in, just an array of faces that you seem to recognize while others are brand new acquaintances, Vernon and you drop off your coats in a nearby closet and shuffle your way inside in search for the nearest drink station.

“I’d say his house is beautiful, but I can barely see anything. How does he know this many people?” Vernon questions as he slides out of the way of someone’s elbow almost hitting him in the stomach. “All I want is to get slightly drunk tonight but I bet the alcohol’s already gone.” 

“It’s the Hong household you know that’s not going to happen,” a snicker leaves you before you feel a gentle tapping on your shoulder. Stopping in your tracks you’re fully ready to meet Joshua Hong’s smirk and subsequent banter, but it takes you a minute to realize that it wasn’t your childhood friend that had garnered your attention at all; instead, it’s a somewhat less familiar face.

“Fancy seeing you here.” Wonwoo’s cheeks are slightly flushed with a smile, the contents of his champagne glass half-empty as he poses the question, “Can I get you a drink?”

“Oh, sure.” You return his smile, nodding your head as he begins to walk off, only stopped by someone calling out to him.

“I didn’t know Pincushion would be here,” Vernon’s voice draws nearer behind you, it seems like he realized you weren’t trailing after him anymore. You feel his hand land on your shoulder as he continues to talk to Wonwoo, “How are you?”

“I’m good, thanks.” He taps his shoe on the floor, only stepping forward a little bit to let someone pass by behind him.

“Pincushion?” You question, looking from Vernon to Wonwoo with a quizzical look on your brow.

“That thing he wears around his wrist every time he comes in?” Vernon shrugs, “I couldn’t remember his name the first time I saw him, but I could remember that. Hence: Pincushion.” 

“Is that what it’s called?” You recall the ball of velvety looking green fabric you’d seen on Wonwoo’s wrist the last handful of times he’d come to pick up the tailor shop’s orders. 

“Yeah my grandma used to have one and I stole the needles from it to use as swords for my toys when I was a kid,” his shoulders shrug as he looks past Wonwoo and spots something beyond him. “I see one of those guys with a tray of drinks, I’ll get back to you in a bit.” And with that he’s off, sliding around you and Wonwoo to brush his way through the crowd in a frantic sprint to grab himself a glass.

“Does he know that there’s an open bar in the other room?” Wonwoo asks aloud as he watches your friend disappear into the crowd.

“Not yet but give him twenty minutes and I’m sure he’ll be all over it.” Vernon wasn’t one to drink heavily often, it was more of a holiday thing where he only did it if he knew he wasn’t going into work for the next few days. Needless to say, Christmas and New Years are binge drinking galore for him. 

“So, book binding? How’d you get into that line of work?” You’d been so concentrated on looking for your friend’s brightly colored hair that you almost didn’t hear Wonwoo when he asked. 

“Family business, dad’s too sick to come in.” Your eyes flickering over to him, a small shrug of your shoulders.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” his brow contorts into worry for a moment, as if he’d offended you somehow. 

“Don’t be, if anything I think he’s playing it up a bit just so mom has to be around more often,” You smile, it was really only minor back issues but the doctor had prescribed bed rest and your father had been milking it for months now. 

“Smart man,” a short laugh into his drink before he takes a sip from his glass. “So, how do you know Joshua?”

“Old family friend, plus he’s as rich as all get out so it’s nice to see what it’s like.” You note, looking up to the chandelier overhead. If it were anything but Tiffany you’d be surprised. “What about you?”

“You didn’t hear this from me but Seungcheol might be secretly dating one of his sisters and she invited the whole shop just as an excuse to see him.” The two of you lock eyes, a playful smirk on his lips dancing in the warm glow of the room. “I’m not complaining.”

“I don’t doubt it,” chuckling for a moment, you then look up as if you’ve realized something. “I should probably go and greet the host; can you imagine how rude of a guest I’d be if I didn’t?”

A ceding nod as he steps away from you, gesturing with his glass towards a side room off the main hall, “I think I saw him in there a few minutes ago.”

“Thanks, Wonwoo,” you move to pass him, heading towards the doorway before you stop for a moment, your head tilting in question, “Want to meet back up later?”

“I’d love that,” a gentle thud in your chest as you nod at him, beginning to move again and question the feeling that had plagued you enough to ask him that. 

You don’t find Joshua in that room, or the next, or even upstairs in his own bedroom. You do, however, find him on the second-floor fire escape, the butts of several cigarettes at his feet and a glass of whiskey in his hand. It’s cold, had you known this would be where you’d speak you would’ve brought your coat with you.

“Joshua Hong,” You begin, crouching down to duck through the open window, catching him as he’s begun to lean against the brick exterior of his home, “Hiding away from your party again?”

“The guest of the hour,” A grin as you walk towards him, “How are you? I haven’t seen you at all in the past few months.”

“I’m good, good… It’s been so hectic with the seasonal shopping and all, who knew journals were a hot commodity for gift-giving?” You sigh, elbows resting against the cold fence of the escape. The time between now and the last you’d seen him had been great, but it had always been far and few in between when it came to his jet setting tendencies. 

“Sounds hellish for sure,” Musing, he takes a sip from his glass, the scent of whisky hitting your nose as it nears. His other hand rests atop the rusted metal of the fire escape, impatiently tapping as he looks out into the backyard of his home.

“And what about you, Mr. Start-Up? Tear down any more conglomerates recently?” You query, noticing that he was on one of his inward treks again. Something must’ve come up with his family.  

A snicker, as he offers out his glass to you, noticing that your hands were painfully empty, “No, but we’re working on a pretty big acquisition right now. It’s all mind games and if I didn’t make a shitload of money I’d be out of this business.” 

“Lucky you though, you’re able to retire at thirty-five if you really wanted to,” musing as you swirl around the contents of the glass, the ice inside clinking around. 

He laughs, the cold air mixing with his breath in plumes of white that spiral into the nighttime. You push yourself from the wall, bringing the glass to your lips and downing the rest of the contents as quickly as you can, “This isn’t the time to be hard on yourself, Joshua. I think the countdown’s about to start,” a look at the small wrist watch on your wrist, the time indicating that you had about five minutes until the new year began.

“Shit,” the word elongated exasperatedly as he leans over to catch a glance at the clock face, “Let’s get back out there.”

The two of you amble inside, your cheeks cold with the winter air and hands a little stiff from holding the glass for too long. You set it down on one of the various demilunes scattered around the hall as you make your way back into Joshua’s living room. He’s lost along the way, pulled into a group of businessmen to talk or fawning girls to cajole with, you’re not sure which at this point. All you’re trying to do is find someone you know. 

You can try to push through the crowds to find Joshua, but at this point it’d be like trying to part the Red Sea with your own two hands and it was infeasible to say the least. Or you could head to one of the drink stations around the house in hopes to find Vernon, but he was as elusive as a snake and it’d be a miracle if you could find him before the clock struck midnight.

“Sixty!” A choir of voices ring out from a nearby room, you think you can hear Joshua’s voice rising above them all, but it might also be your ears playing tricks on you.

“Are they really counting down the entire minute?” The voice next to you startled you so much that you jumped, turned, and saw Jeon Wonwoo looking off in the direction of the countdown. His brow furrowing in confusion, “I at least thought it’d be the last ten seconds or something.”

“Jesus Wonwoo,” hand over your heart as you try and catch your breath, “You almost scared me to death.”

A laugh, “Sorry about that, I’m a little light on my feet.”

It also didn’t help that you could barely hear with the throng of people surrounding you. The gaiety electrifies the room, as it does the entire world when on the eve of a brand-new start. 

“Did you want me to help you find one of your friends? I’m sure they couldn’t have gone too far,” his height somewhat advantageous to him as he scans the crowd, not seeing you shake your head as the countdown reaches thirty.

“I think I’m fine just staying with you,” you don’t notice the way he tenses ever so slightly at your words, a more rouge tint to his cheeks as he looks back to you with a sheepish smile.

“Are you sure?” Eyes widening as your gazes’ lock and you feel the familiar warmth creeping up the back of your neck.

“If that’s okay with you?” You question, the countdown hitting fifteen.

“That’s great— fine, it’s— yeah,” he trips and stumbles over his words, trying to find solid ground somewhere on the confab plain. It’s at that moment the countdown comes to ten, and the pair of you join in for the last seconds of 1963.

Five, four, three, two — 

“Happy New Year!” 

The clock had struck midnight and he was the closest one to you, you can’t remember if it was you or him that pulled the other closer to share a kiss. The kiss was chaste, but it resounded around your ribcage like the booming of the fireworks being shot off a distant skyscraper. A smile on your lips as you mouth back your own, “Happy New Year!” Despite it being innocent in nature, you know with the way the feeling buzzes on your lips you yearn for something more.

1964, Early Spring. The two of you’d spent time together since that evening, outside of that transactional relationship formed in the commerce of you selling your journals and him picking them up for Seungcheol whenever he could. It was outside of that realm, more personal as the days, weeks and months had transgressed. 

By some miraculous circumstance, and no less of your incessant mentioning, you and Wonwoo had been seeing each other on a regular basis 

“Seungcheol?” The door of the tailor shop opens with nothing short of a struggle. The heavy oak pressing back against your foot as you pry it open, your hands too full to push it. 

“Need some help?” A voice behind you, startling you so much that you almost drop the large stack of books in your hand. You look over your shoulder to see Wonwoo standing behind you, his head tilted as if to question how you’d made it this far on your own.

“Thanks,” allowing him to brush past you, he steps into the shop and holds the door open wider as you enter. “Where is everyone?” Noticing that the usual handful of other tailors didn’t seem to be aimlessly roaming the store waiting for a customer to arrive.

“Busy,” He notes, motioning for you to hand him the plethora of journals. Obliging willingly, you hand them off and stretch your arms, surely the strain from the hardbacks would pull your finger muscles. “There’s been an emergency tailoring session, some big shot’s in town and needs alterations done for some party they’re throwing tomorrow night.”

“Explains why no one came to pick up the order today,” you muse, “Shouldn’t you be helping with that?”

“I will be in about an hour,” he sighs as if he’s already imagining the work that he’ll need to put in this evening. “But someone had to watch over the shop today.” 

“Do you want company while you wait?”

You’re not sure how you’d gotten roped into staying with Wonwoo until well after the sun had set and the last customer had come in for the day. The lights of the shop are off, save for the small lamp that sits above Wonwoo’s workstation. He sits at his little desk in the back corner of the shop as he sews and hems away. His eyes scan the notes the patron had given when they’d dropped off the clothes, you had to squint to try and read the messy scrawl etched onto the parchment. You sit some desks away, flipping through some editorial detailing the up and coming designers of the fashion world but nothing was particularly catching your eye.

“Three alterations in one night, Seungcheol’s really trying to work us to the bone,” Wonwoo sighs exasperatedly, his hands falling atop his desk, a needle held between his right index and thumb while his other hand holds the garment he’d been attending to.

“Doesn’t it take a week to do something for just one piece?” You ask, not too versed on the schematics of it all, just acutely aware of when your father had needed suits adjusted as he aged.

“Normally,” he glances over to you, a hazy impatience settling behind his brow as he thinks to the two other pieces he was set to mend. “But it’s nine-thirty now and the guy wants them done by noon tomorrow,” Wonwoo almost barks out a laugh at the absurdity of it all, “I didn’t even get the roughest pieces, Mingyu’ll be up all night and finish five minutes beforehand if he’s lucky.”

“What are they making him do?” Magazine set aside as you stand to stretch, your legs numb with the fuzziness of pinched nerves.

“Some simple inseam stuff like I’m doing, but also taking in a few jacket sleeves and fixing shoulder divots,” He says as if you know what he’s talking about, upon seeing the puzzled expression that paints itself on your face he explains a little more, “It’s nearly impossible to do with the amount of time we’ve been given.”

“Why’d Seungcheol accept this job then?” Pins and needles poking through your skin as you walk over to him to take a look at what he was working on.

“Because the client’s paying us a fortune,” setting the needle down he pulls a pin from the cushion around his wrist to situate it into an odd angle in the fabric in front of him, “I might actually be able to take you on a real date if I finish this in time.”

“I’ve kind of liked the ice cream socials,” you shrug your shoulders, as he turns to look at you, “And all of the gritty little dives, it’s more memorable that way. Plus, it makes me a cheap date.”

A small ‘tch’ leaving him as he turns back to his work, “You deserve more than that.”

“As long as you’re there I’ll be fine,” you lean down to press a kiss on his cheek, “Now I’ll stop distracting you, I’ll make dinner or lunch or something because I know you’ll be dead on your feet tomorrow.”

“Try and get to bed early,” he says as you go to grab your things from where you’d left them up front, “I know you like to overwork yourself too.”

1964, Summer When you’d been invited to Wonwoo’s small apartment, you’d expected a small dinner and then maybe you’d go and watch television or explore the city afterwards. What you hadn’t expected was to see dark plumes of smoke emitting from under the doorway. You don’t knock, instead you barge into the apartment to find Wonwoo unlatching his windows and opening them to let the smoke escape, the source of the plumes coming from his small kitchen. 

“What happened?” You call out as he turns to you, your hand rising to your face as if it could vanquish the putrid smell. 

“I cooked,” the last window opens with a struggle, Wonwoo’s arms ache with how much force he had to exert when opening it. He shuffles over to you, seeing that you’d walked into the kitchen to find the source of it all.

“You… cooked….” A charred, black entity sits in a pan that Wonwoo had presumably pulled from the oven minutes prior. “Wonwoo what is that?”

“A loaf!” An almost excited tone cutting through your confusion as you turn and tilt your head at him.

“A… loaf of?”

“Meat!” At least he’s trying to sound cheerful, but that was his disposition most of the time. His hand guides your gaze over to a handwritten recipe atop the counter, he must’ve gotten it from some program. “I followed Julia Child’s recipe.” 

“I’m not trying to be mean but that looks like a brick.” Gaze flickering back to the meat-brick. 

“Yeah,” a sigh as he picks up a nearby spatula, grazing it atop the burnt meat, it scrapes atop it rather than giving way at all, “It’s about as hard as one too.”

The utter exasperation breaking through in his voice cause enough for you to laugh, the absurdity of it all pricking tears into the corners of your eyes. “We can try and salvage it,” you offer once you calm yourself down enough, the occasional chuckle flitting like a bird around your ribcage.

“Let’s just go to Le Pavilion or something, there’s also a new movie out too, we can try and catch it if we eat fast enough.”

And you do. For some reason Wonwoo orders the most expensive dish on the menu and doesn’t even like it, offering it to you instead with an abysmal pout that almost has you reeling in the small interior of the restaurant. The atmosphere is warm and jovial, met by the sinking sun as the two of you exit the venue, hands interlocked with a faint tightness as if you never wanted to be without him in your grasp again. Wonwoo and you then walk to a theater some blocks away, hands still held and a bubbling silence between you.

The film that Wonwoo had mentioned earlier had been Mary Poppins, some Disney film starring Julie Andrews and Dick Van Dyke; you’re sure you’d heard Andrews somewhere before, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. 

“I didn’t realize they could combine live action and cartoons like that,” Wonwoo’s voice full of childlike wonder as the pair of you exit the cinema. The smell of popcorn wafts out of the theater’s doors and the bright bulbs of the marquee overhead creates a strange glow contrasted to the nighttime sky. 

“I didn’t either,” you note as a few kids brush past you and begin to race down the street, their voices carrying off into the night. It brings a small smile to your lips as you watch them gallivant around, not a care in the world as they continue to chase one another.

“Do you want me to walk with you back to your place?” Wonwoo offers, extending his hand out to you. You don’t answer aloud, instead just take his hand into yours and begin to walk the steadily emptying streets.

“Have you always lived in the city, Wonwoo?” It takes a moment for you to speak again, instead of just admiring the way that the lights glint off of passing windows and the rumblings of the cars that pass to your left drown out in the other amblings of the city.

“No, my family actually lives up north a little way away.” He hums to himself as he thinks, “I thought I’d always be stuck up there too, but I got the offer from Seungcheol and moved here as fast as I could. Although I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss it at times.”

“I see,” you mutter, not knowing the feeling of leaving your home. It was a foreign concept to say the least, for almost the entirety of your life you’d known you were going to take over your father’s shop one day, and you’d been complacent in the matter. You’d had your hobbies that you dabbled in, but this was a nostalgic comfort that would and had transitioned into your livelihood that would take you nowhere other than the little shop you call your own. “Would you want to move back?”

“Maybe when I’m older, sure. But I want to see the world first,” he nods his head, a twitch in his hand as he holds yours, “there’s so much I haven’t done or seen.”

It was a reckless ambition, but Wonwoo lived in that fantasy of the unknown, he had for all of his life. That was what he knew and all he abided by. You’d be fooling yourself if you didn’t worry for him at times, but he’d made it so far and you were curious to see where he was going. There was a creative longing, a desire to make, within him that no one else you’d come across had.

“I love you.” The words aren’t romantic when they fall from your mouth, when they’re swept up in the humidity of the summer air and ring around both his and your ears. This was more of a reckoning, a realization of the culmination of your growing feelings towards him since you’d met him almost a year ago now. A weight you hadn’t realized was there lifting from your chest, a songbird free from a gilded cage.

Wonwoo pauses, his feet stopping on the concrete as you continue to walk, only pulled back when you meet resistance. So, you stop yourself, turning back to look at him, a little ‘o’ on his lips and a confused look gracing his features. Had you said it too early? Or did he not reciprocate your feelings?

“You beat me to it,” a small pout emerges onto his lower lip, “I love you too.”

1964, Autumn “I can’t imagine those are comfortable.” You’re sure the clacking of your shoes could be heard miles away, with the obnoxious way they hit the sidewalk. They were pinching your toes too, and you might as well have put a band-aid on the backs of your heels because they were definitely going to be blistered tomorrow morning.

“They most certainly aren’t, but they are cute.” You note, standing on your toes so you can click the red slippers together three times at the heel. “

Wonwoo stands at the bottom of the stairs that lead up to your apartment, offering out his hand for you to grasp when you carefully make your way down the steps. As opposed to the cool air that had begun to settle into the city, his hand offers warmth against your bare skin as his fingers intertwined with yours.

“Which way is Vernon's?” He questions, looking over your costume for the evening.

“He lives over in Flatiron, kind of near the shop so it won’t be too far of a walk.” You notice him looking at the checkered dress and bright shoes. “Was Dorthey not a good idea, Mr. Holmes?” Noting his outfit of choice, the pipe held in his free hand, the detective cap as well as the cape to match.

“I think you look cute,” Looking away from you and towards the street you’d begun to walk down.

Vernon’s apartment was small, it being so led to more intimate parties than one would find at Joshua Hong’s home, in a way you appreciated it a little more. Bigger parties with unfamiliar faces made you feel as if you had to act less like yourself and more robotic in your interactions.

“I’ll let you in if you promise not to chuck my house to Oz,” Vernon asks as he jokingly cracks open his front door as the two of you stand in front of it, “And Pincushion here doesn’t try and solve a murder or two.”

“Hmm I guess that’s doable, right?” You play along, turning to Wonwoo to confirm.

“It might take some restraint but I’m sure I can manage.” Hand under his chin as if he’s deep in thought.

“I’ll take what I can get,” Vernon sighs and swings the door open, “Drinks in the kitchen, I think Chan’s trying to do a comedy-musical routine in the living room. I’d steer clear because he’s trying out ‘audience participation’ tonight.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” You laugh as you walk inside, the warmth of the room exacerbated by the sheer number of people crammed into the tiny space. “I actually kind of want to check out Chan’s thing,” You mention to Wonwoo after you find a space where the two of you can stand unimpeded.

“I don’t know if I can stomach that quite yet, want me to grab you a drink in the meantime?” Wonwoo asks, looking towards the kitchen and the few people filtering in and out of it.

“That’d be great,” a smile and then Wonwoo’s off to struggle his way through the packed room.

Lip bitten, you try to look through the crowd, but the drawls of laughter tell you almost exactly where Chan’s giving his tri-annual standup show. It’s shoulder to shoulder and you can barely hear him over the other going-ons of the party but from what you can ascertain it’s pretty funny.

“Happy Halloween!” A hand on your side as they call out, you turn, and it takes you a moment to recognize the face under the Gomez Addams’ mustache and wig.

“Joshua!” A smile as you move to hug him for a moment, pulling away with your hands resting on his forearms, “I thought you were overseas?”

“I was supposed to be, a nasty storm delayed us by a few days over in Spain so I’m not leaving until Wednesday.” He says, looking over your outfit. “Didn’t you wear this like two Halloweens ago?”

“What no one knows won’t hurt them,” a playful nudge on his shoulder, “And if I were to remember, this wig looks very Elvis of you.”

“You might be able to remember correctly,” The black strands of hair that were pulled back are still reminiscent of the shape they once held. “Hey, I was wondering if I could talk to you alone?” Joshua smiles, a nervous tinge to his voice as he continues, “It’s a little loud in here and I can’t really hear.”

“Oh, yeah,” brow furrowing at the attitude shift, “But first I should tell— Wonwoo!” The confused expression on Joshua’s face is somewhat laughable as you wave your boyfriend over, spotting him exiting the kitchen with two drinks in hand.

“There you are,” Wonwoo says as he walks over, placing a kiss on your cheek as he hands you a glass. You’re not too sure what the contents are, but it’s warm and smells spiced and oddly autumnal. “Hey Joshua,” he greets with a small nod of his head as you take a small sip from your glass.

“Hey Wonwoo,” a return of the nod, “I should probably let the two of you go, I just remembered I have some calls I need to make.”

“What did you want to talk about?”  You ask as Joshua begins to turn on his heels. It freezes him, he looks back to you before offering you a warm smile once again.

“It’s nothing important, I’ll catch up with you some other time, yeah?”

The party goes one without much note after, the most affable thing being that routine that Chan had been preparing.  At one point you and Wonwoo had slipped out citing an acute tiredness as an excuse to just walk the city some more. By this time of night, the kids that had gone out in search of candy were slowly waning, now only the belligerently drunk wandered the streets in search of the home they probably lived in.

“You have to admit that the joke about Red Skelton was pretty funny though,” insisting that Chan wasn’t the worst comedian you had ever seen. Sure, his act could be cleaned up a little but there was definitely potential.

“What was it— I know a guy who bought a $99 color TV set. Now every Tuesday night he watches Green Skelton?” Chuckling as he recalls the joke, Wonwoo shakes his head “That was pretty good.”

“That’s the one, he’s no Jerry Lewis but he’s trying his best,” you laugh as you arrive at the entrance of your apartment, “Did you want to come in?”

“I’d love to,” he says, and your heart skips several beats, “but I’ve got a client coming in early tomorrow.” And then your heart drops, “I’ll come by tomorrow after I’m done?”

“Alright,” you nod and you say your good nights, he places a kiss on your cheek before turning on his heels and walking into the darkness of night. 

You fumble with your hands, trying to unlatch the small picnic basket that had acted as your purse for the evening, in search of your keys. 

“Actually, do you have room for one more?” You’d been too distracted trying to get your keys that you hadn’t heard or seen Wonwoo come back to your stoop. 

“I thought you said you had work tomorrow,” a wayward glance to him.

“I do, but it’s dark and I’m kind of afraid to walk home alone, I mean what if a ghost or vampire gets me? I’m too pretty to die right now,” he states, rocking back and forth on his heels as he waits for you to invite him in. 

“A big baby, more like it,” you scoff, once again turning to look at your door and stating, “If you are coming inside, can you lend me my own spare? I think I dropped my keys at Vernon’s.”

“Yeah I think I’ve got it on my ring,” he rummages around his pockets for a moment until you hear the familiar jingle of his keys. There are only four that adorn the metal hoop; his apartment’s, his mailbox’s, Seungcheol’s shop, and the most recent addition: yours. 

“Roommate not home?” He questions as the two of you make your way inside, kicking off your shoes as you beeline to your kitchen.

“At some B. Altman holiday extravaganza with her beau,” pulling two glasses from a cabinet and grabbing a nearby bottle from the small section of your kitchen dedicated to alcohol, “Nightcap?”

“A small one,” Wonwoo nods as you come into the room, he’s standing over your record player, turning it on and beginning to play whatever was on the platter. You set the glasses down onto the coffee table and pry the cork out of the bottle, pouring two small glasses as he falls into the sofa beside you.

“I hope Delamain’ll do?” You set down the bottle and pass a glass to Wonwoo, only settling down on the couch once your own glass is in hand.

“It’s perfectly fine,” he sips at his glass, setting it down on the settee as he muses some more, “What record is this?”

“Ella Fitzgerald, mom gave it to me for my birthday last year, it’s one of her favorites.” Sipping from your own glass steadily turns into you just downing the liquid in one go. The glass hits the end table with a clink when you set it down, Wonwoo’s free hand resting on your thigh as he listens to the music wafting through the air.

“It’s lovely,” he sighs out as you rest your head on his shoulder, the scent of his Pour Monsieur cologne invading your senses as you settle. The meticulous grazing of his fingers over your thigh causes you to sigh, wanting to sink further into him.

“Can you kiss me?” The words fall breathlessly from your lips, as his fingers trace the hem of your dress. And he does, turning his head to crash against you with such voraciousness that your teeth click against each other before he steadies and falls into motion with you. The pair of you stay like that for a moment, before you feel his hand slip under your leg, urging you to sit atop him. 

You straddle his waist, feeling a hardness beginning to strain against his trousers as you grind down onto his lap. He lets out a moan, probably the sweetest thing you’d ever heard, his eyelids fluttering as you do it again. A smirk graces your lips, your hands trailing from his chest to the button on the front of his pants, the fabric coarse under your touch as you move to unfasten it. Before you could, you feel a pair of warm hands atop yours, you looked up to see a wide-eyed Wonwoo. 

“I didn’t think I’d be doing this today, so my underwear isn’t exactly mood appropriate—” He says all too quickly for you to comprehend fully, “Just don’t judge me too hard.”

“They can’t be— Is that Mickey Mouse?” You catch the name on the waistband of his underwear, hesitating on releasing any more of the animated character for your eyes to see. 

“And I think you’ve just killed the mood,” he groans, his head falling onto the back pillow as his hands fall atop the couch cushions. 

“No, I didn’t,” you lean down for a kiss, rolling your hips over him, feeling that he was almost fully erect. His hands fly back to your sides, guiding you along as he lifts his pelvis to meet yours. “I think they’re cute but maybe leave them home next time.”

“Next time?” He mused, looking up at you through clouded eyes, a joking tinge added to his voice “What makes you think there’s going to be a next time?”

“Call it foresight,” shoulders shrugging as you look down at him, your head tilted ever so slightly “and you don’t seem like the hit it and quit it type, baby.” He’d slept over at your apartment before, maybe you’d had a few drunken makeout sessions but nothing ever this sobering, this far. In hindsight maybe you should’ve been nervous, let the butterflies in your stomach take over and calm you down. You’re not sure why you’d taken such a confident route with him, it just seems like he needed it. 

“Baby,” the word fell out as a whisper as you saw the faint pinkness of his cheeks in the glow that emanates from the lamp to his right, “Can you spare me any further embarrassment and just take them off already?”

“It doesn’t feel like you’ve got anything to be embarrassed about,” your hand brushing his away from the front of his pants, you sit up on your knees, “Mind kicking them off for me?”

He readily began to comply as you tried to maneuver without inhibiting him, you noticed him watching you, a hunger in his gaze that sent shivers down your spine. His hands still for a moment and his head twists to look towards the kitchen where the entryway is. 

“Fuck— is someone else here?” He asks and you listen to the familiar sound of your front door unlocking; it doesn’t open but you can hear loud footfalls and an even louder voice talking outside of the door. 

“Sooyoung?” You call out after you were sure the voices had stopped, walking to the kitchen when you hear your roommate's keys hitting the kitchen counter “I thought you were staying at your boyfriend’s?”

“The asshole broke up with me because he wanted to be Holly Golightly. Him! He might have astoundingly good looks for it but I think I’m a little prettier, don’t you think?” The door of the fridge slamming shut, a rustle around the utensil drawer as she looks for a spoon. She did look stunning as the Hepburn character; you have to admit. “They’re re-airing that episode of Perry Mason if you want to watch it.”

“Wonwoo’s actually over so I think I’m just going to call it a night,” You say, leaning against the doorframe, watching her begin to dig into a tub of ice cream. “I’ll be sure to rant about your ex with you tomorrow.”

“You’d really do that?” A sigh as she shoves the spook into her mouth, “I’ll try not to wake you guys up when I get up for work tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Sooyoung,” a smile before you slip away and head back into the living room. “Alright Woo, it’s time for bed.”

“Alright,” Wonwoo pushes himself off of the couch, buttoning his pants and shouting out a ‘Goodnight Sooyoung!’ before ducking into your room. With his long strides he walks to your bed and subsequently falls into it as you turn to close the door behind the two of you.

“Don’t you want to change, Dr. Holmes?” You note his still costumed self as you look at his sprawling figure on the bed, “I think I’ve got your bed clothes from the last time you were here… Not sure if I cleaned them though.”

He huffs, “Forget it, I’m going to sleep.” He crawls to his side, blanketing himself with your duvet as you go into your bathroom to remove your makeup and change. 

You can hear him softly snoring as you exit the restroom, your face still a little damp and the scent of your cleanser tingling your nose. Sooyoung’s turned off the music in the living room, the garbled sounds of the small black and white tv quietly floating in under your door. It takes a moment, but you climb into bed next to Wonwoo, pulling the duvet up to your chin before you shut your eyes and fall into a dreamless slumber.

It isn’t sunny out when you wake up, you don’t want to look at your clock for fear that your alarm was about to go off and you’d miss the opportunity to sleep in a few minutes more. An arm draped over you, even in sleep Wonwoo was a cuddler. Normally you weren’t opposed unless it was the summertime and it was unbearably hot outside. 

“You know,” you hear him mumble tiredly, as if he senses that you’ve woken up too, “I always thought your apartment would be much more… bookier.” With the way his voice rasps with fatigue you’re not sure if he’s fully awake or half asleep. 

“What were you expecting? Books wall to wall?” eyes still closed as you pull your duvet closer to you, feeling his arm tense around your waist. 

“Kind of, something akin to a fairytale library,” his breath hot on your back, the hairs on the back of your neck raising at the sensation. “Like uhm— some Grimm story… Oh,” voice perking, “Can we go for that Halloween next year? You didn’t even tell me what you were going as until I saw you tonight.”

“You want to have a couple’s costume?”

“Yeah,” breathing slowly as if he’s falling back asleep again,”Maybe Lucy and Ricardo, that’d be fun.”

The next time you wake up, the sun’s blaring into your eyes with an intensity you had never asked for.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” Wonwoo’s mumbling and shuffling around your room, sunlight was pouring in from your windows and he looked heavenly even in his manic state.

“What’s wrong?” Stifling a yawn behind your hand as you watch him frantically feel his pockets.

“It’s nine-thirty, We— I overslept,” another string of curses escaping him as he looks around your room, “Do you have a phone I can use?”

“It’s on the dresser.” You point lazily to the red rotary.

You hear the dial tone ring a few times before someone on the other end picks up, “Mingyu can you put my client on the line?” A pause, “Yes I know I’m late.” Another pause before Wonwoo speaks again, “Hello Mr. Smith? Yes, this is Wonwoo Jeon. I'm running a little late for our appointment, I had bit of an emergency and— Huh? Oh, yes, of course. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Are you in trouble?”

“Only minorly,” he frowns, “You wouldn’t happen to have a suit perfectly tailored for me to wear, would you?”

“Can’t say that I do, why don’t you just go in what you’re wearing?”

“I am not going dressed up as Sherlock Holmes for this client. I have some pride, you know.” 

“You’re literally wearing Mickey Mouse underwear,” you snort, “it doesn’t look that bad anyway, just don’t wear the hat and lose the pipe. Maybe the cloak too but it’s kind of sexy.” 

“Don’t try to tempt me,” he groans, buttoning and zipping his pants, “I’m late enough as is.” 

“I’d offer you an iron if Sooyoung hadn’t broken mine, that shirt looks super wrinkly now that I see it in the sunlight,” you note, he still looked nice though. He would probably look nice in anything he wore.

“Ugh, really?” Hands running over the wrinkled fabric he sighs to himself, “I’d say I’ve looked worse, but I normally have myself together.” 

“Good luck. I, for one, am going back to sleep.” You sigh and fall back into your blankets, not wanting to leave the sanctuary of warmth quite yet.

“Now who’s the baby?” He scoffs and you hear him tread to the side of the bed, a kiss planted on your forehead as you crinkle your nose up at him. “I’ll call you later today?”

“I’ll talk to you then.”

1964, Late Autumn. The rain began only a few minutes into your trek to the cafe, your umbrella weeping with the droplets as they roll off its surface as you trudge down the street. There’s a rumble in the distance but you’re not sure if it’s the local train station or thunder somewhere off beyond the city. Your other hand in your pocket, running your finger along the ridges of your shop’s key. While you know you’d locked it, you can’t help but have the underlying fear that you’d left the door wide open so that anyone could just walk in. Although you’re not quite sure what they’d take, a few blank notebooks don’t seem like it’d do too well in any sort of underground market. 

By the time you pull yourself from your thoughts, you’re standing in front of a small cafe that feels more like a second home to you than your own apartment did at this point. The door swings open, you stand in the entranceway so that you can close your umbrella and leave it in the small stand upfront before you head fully inside. It smells like autumn, or at least the coffee’d variant of it. Pumpkin, nutmeg, and a few other scents you can’t quite pinpoint wafting through the air as you walk up to the counter to place your order. You pick out a few pastries as well and ask that they’re brought out when your coffee is ready. A hand to remove the paper-wrapped book under your arm so you can reach for your wallet, realizing then that the water had soaked into the leather. The wrapping paper now a little damp from where it’d brushed against your coat, you pick it back up as well as grab the receipt from the barista before scouring the cafe for what you’d come here to do in the first place.

Wonwoo’s dozing off when you find him in the back corner of the coffee shop. His jacket slung on the chair beside him, a scarf thrown haphazardly atop it as he leans with his head tilting backwards, pretty much dead to the world. Had the two of you not been frequent customers you’re sure that he would’ve been kicked out by now. But there he was, black turtleneck, tailored pants, and the cartoon bandages he loves so much wrapped tightly around his fingertips.

He doesn’t wake up when you accidentally scrape your chair on the ground when you pull it back to sit across from him nor does he wake when you drop the paper-bound book atop the table with a loud thud. Wonwoo does, however, wake when you brush your hand gently atop his, nearly falling out of his chair as his eyes open wider than you’d ever seen someone’s do. 

“That wasn’t funny,” he frowns as you snicker, glancing over to the counter trying to act as if he’s regained his composure, “did you already order?”

“For me? Yes,” you place your bag in the chair adjacent to you, shrug off your raincoat and hang it on the back of your chair. “For you, what is it that you get? Flat white, two sugars, low fat milk?”

“That’s it,” he hums, leaning his head back once more. It must’ve been another sleepless night for him.

“You should be thankful I’ve got an exceptional memory,” you frown as he can’t see you, he overworks himself too much and if you ever try to bring it up he brushes it off with a wave and an excuse of ‘I’m just doing what I love’. 

“You know,” he begins, leaning his head back up, opening his eyes to look at you. There was something shining behind them that you’d only seen on a handful of occasions; he has an idea and he’s not sure that you’ll like it, “I was wondering if you’d model a dress for me? Not for a fashion show or anything. I just think it’d look good on you.”

His gaze breaks from yours to look at the aisle behind you, you turn and see the barista coming with your drinks and assortment of baked goods. After a few repetitious ‘thank you’s she leaves and the pair of you are left alone once more. 

“Are you flirting with me?” An eyebrow piqued as you looked at him. He’d asked you to do some of the strangest things before, going from the mundane ‘I think we need to get annual tickets to the opera just in case I forget your birthday and it’ll be a birthday present’ to ‘I swear to god if we don’t rescue this cat right now I’m never calling you again’. But it was two am and a sorely inebriated Wonwoo had thought that a raccoon was a cat as it rummaged through the garbage. That had also been the night where he’d serenaded you with his own rendition of Blossom Dearies ‘Dance Only With Me’ and Sinatra’s ‘I’m a Fool to Want You’; he’d broken down crying at the latter and you’d forced him to go to bed early. He only went on the condition that you’d hug him as he slept. It was certainly an interesting way to spend your first date together. 

“Do you want me to be? I’d say it’s fairly doable,” He winks as he drinks from his mug, blowing on its contents beforehand to cool the brew. 

A laugh, the brown paper under your fingertips wrinkling as you strain your fingers and push it towards him. It slides across the wood with relative ease, your finger partially tearing the paper where it had been dampened by the rain. 

“I brought you your book.”

“Unlined and all?” He asks as he sets down his cup, shifting himself forward to get a better look.

“Unlined, flexible binding, the works.” 

“You’re a lifesaver,” he sighs, taking the still wrapped book into his grasp. 

“I know,” you smile, watching as his fingers toy with the twine that kept it together. 

“Hello? Paging Ms. Bookbinder, you there?” Wonwoo’s hand waves in front of your face, suddenly you’re back in reality and trying to remember the conversation. You didn’t realize you’d zoned out that hard.

“Yes Mr. Reichelt?” You question, looking down as his finger’s unlace the twine you’d wrapped around the paper packaging. 

“Don’t call me that I am much cooler than Franz Reichelt, and less dead, for that matter.”

“Can you say that after you drink your coffee?” You poke jokingly while he eyes his mug with a wary glance.

“Anyway, were you even listening to me?” He leans towards you, elbows resting on the tabletop and a slight curvature to his smile that looked far too playful for the current moment. It stilled your heart for a second before you shake your head at him. 

“Not really, no.” You confess, sipping from your cup, “What is it?”

“I was asking if you would let me make a dress for you. I’ve had this idea in my mind for weeks and I finally got this mulberry silk imported from Lyon and it’s too good not to use immediately.”

“I don’t even need a dress like that, Wonwoo.” You frown, picking at one of the pastries in front of you, pinching off a piece before stuffing it into your mouth. “I’m not exactly the type that goes to parties where I’d need a silk dress.” You think that the last party you’d attended you’d worn a sweater and a dress from your roommate’s closet, nothing remotely close to what he was proposing. 

“You don’t even know what it looks like,” he pouts, “All I need are your measurements, you won’t even have to see the thing if you don’t want to.” 

A sigh, “Fine. When do you want me to drop by?”

“Does Tuesday around ten work for you?”

“I should be able to get Vernon to look over the shop while I’m gone.”

1964, Winter. The ringing of your shop’s bells draws you to the front room, your hands wrought with binding glue, you try to rub them on the apron you wear to rid yourself of the sensation. Before you can ask what the customer needs you stop in your tracks, head tilting to the side, “Isn’t it your day off?”

“It is,” Wonwoo’s voice is cheery as he walks in further, looking at the array of newly bound books sitting out on display.

“What are you doing here?”

“Am I not allowed to want to see you?” You fluster at the words, hard to hide the small smile that forms on your lips.

“I mean, you can, it’s just that I’m working.” You motion to the store, to the few customers browsing the items.

“You’ve spent however many nights watching me hem skirts and taper jackets; I think it’s time I return the favor.” A nod of his head as he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “What can I do to help?”

“What the hell’s Pincushion doing here?” Before you’re able to open your mouth, Vernon comes out of the back room with a stack of books in his grasp, “I thought you’d be holed up in your shop by now.”

“It’s my day off.”

“And you’re spending it… here…” The thud of books landing on a nearby table as the skepticism in Vernon’s voice rises.

“Yep.”

“He must really like you,” Vernon scoffs, going to grab a different selection of books off of another shelf. He turns to you and asks, “Can you grab me the leather samples from the back? I think Maisel’s coming in today and you know how he gets.”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” You shake your head and head to the back room to search for the swatches.

While he waits, Wonwoo notices a small web lingering in the intersection of two walls, the sunlight glinting off its strands having been what alerted him to his presence in the first place. At first, he thinks to sweep it away with a broom he knows is hidden somewhere in your storeroom. You weren’t the biggest fan of bugs or arachnids; he was surprised you hadn’t rid your shop of it by now. But he can’t find it within himself to brush the web asunder. It had worked hard to build and craft its home; he knew firsthand how difficult creating something from nothing was. 

“Her name is Jorōgumo.” Vernon had walked up behind Wonwoo with little announcement. The younger jumps, turning his head to look at the other. “I offered to kill her… him…? For her but she said it was eating the bugs and to let it be.”

Wonwoo eyes the fat-bodied spider, “Why is it named that?”

“It’s a fairytale from Japan, there’s a spider that looks like a woman. It entices men to follow her and then eats them while they’re distracted,” Vernon explains, the sound of the storeroom opening behind him.

“Are you bullying Arachne again?” You frown, handing the swatches to Vernon and looking up to the small web in the corner.

“I am not bullying Jorōgumo.”

“If I’m keeping a spider in my shop, I am not naming it after a monster.”

“And a heretic is better?” Vernon scoffs, tapping Wonwoo on the shoulder, “What do you think, Pincushion?”

“I’m just wondering why both the myths have to be women,” he shrugs his shoulders and looks to you, “Do you think you’d be free this evening so I can take your measurements? I finally have some free time to start working on that dress.”

“I think so,” a nod as you look at Vernon, “Mind looking after the shop for a bit?”

1965, Early Spring “Didn’t you already measure me?” Wonwoo’s hands hold a rolling measuring tape as he holds it up to your forearm as you ask.

“Yeah, but I want to make sure this is perfect.” Tape lowered; he writes down the number into one of the journals he’d brought with him to your apartment. Trailing away from that your eyes look to the bouquet he brought when he’d come over.

“What’s the deal?” Brow furrowing at the pink, red and white blooms, “You never give me flowers.”

“It’s a special occasion,” Beaming, he’s as bright as the sun. A jilted visage against the cool tones of your apartment’s interior. He looks up to you with a vividness in his eyes, “Your boyfriend’s going to Paris.”

“What do you mean Paris?” A hitch in your voice as you ask, a strange and warped confusion overcoming you.

“Seungcheol got me an apprenticeship with one of his friends, he’s going to be in town in a few weeks to talk about it with me and I want to show off the dress there.” He’s speaking at a mile a minute, a clear excitement as he beams.

“Don’t fall for some mysterious Parisian woman while you’re there,” You poke, still unsure about how you even feel about this.

“I doubt I’ll have time to even wander the city. With all of the workshops and sessions we’ll have. It’s going to be the opportunity of a life— ow—” he says as you gently hit his shoulder. “I won’t fall for some other girl, I promise,” He laughs and continues to take your measurements.

1965, Late Spring “Did you have a good time tonight?” The lock clicking into place as he asks, your footsteps falling on the floor as you make your way to his workbench in the center of what would’ve been his living room had he not made it into a makeshift workshop. 

You note the tools, the fabrics and array of swatches that litter his home, the pincushion he wears on his wrist as he works settled onto the tabletop. It’s as if the apartment is a representation of him, messy in ambition but persevering through the struggles as he tries to find the limelight of his own. A smile forming as he walks over to you.

“I had a wonderful time, thank you for inviting me.”

It had been a small gathering at the tailor shop, a small dinner with Seungcheol, Wonwoo, Seungcheol’s friend and Wonwoo’s future mentor Jeonghan, and yourself. The entirety of the night you’d felt a knot forming in your stomach, the anxiety of Wonwoo’s future endeavors weighing heavily on your shoulders. You want to be happy for him but the closer it gets to Wonwoo’s departure for Paris leaves you feeling more and more despair at the event of it all.

“Thank you for coming,” Wonwoo’s hands find your sides as you lean your backside against the rough wooden edge of the table. “You made it all the more bearable,” smiling softly in the dim lighting of the apartment, he leans forward and places a soft kiss on your lips. The wine from earlier lingers on his breath, you’re sure it does the same to yours, the darkness of the red already making you warm and your body feeling weightless, almost as if you were floating in a pool of water. 

You part, staring into each other’s eyes, a silent conversation before he’s leaning in again to find your lips. His kiss seems as if it seeks to steal the breath from your lungs. To devour you entirely until all you can think of is his closeness, the softness of his lips atop yours, of just him. The woolen fabric of his overcoat is rough under your fingertips as you move your hands from the workshop table to his shoulders, gently pulling at the cloth to urge him to discard the garment. His hands leave your sides momentarily as he shrugs the jacket off, the fabric falling and pooling on the floor at his feet. A metallic clang echoing around the space as he leans forward to lock his lips with yours.

“Wonwoo,” you breathe, soft pants escaping the both of you as you turn your head from him, your eyes trailing to the sewing scissors that had clattered onto the floor. Another rustling of fabric and you realize he’s discarded his suit jacket as well.

“Let it be,” a hand under your chin, guiding you back to the comfort of his lips. He presses himself into your touch, the way your fingers dance along the smooth cotton of his starched shirt, fiddle with the buttons and run your fingertips atop the small engravings adorning them. 

“Are we really going to do this in your workspace?” You look up to his darkened gaze, your voice caught in your throat as his own fingers move to toy with the neckline of your dress. Gentle, electric touches that have you reeling.

“Does that bother you?” His lips leave yours once more as he places soft, yearning kisses to your cheek, trailing down your jaw and then to your neck. He raises a hand to pull away the neckline of the dress to allow him better access to the apogee of nerves nestled at the point where your shoulder and neck meet. Teeth biting ever so gently that you would have mistaken it as a light graze had you not felt the sharp pinch. It pulls an almost whining sound from your vocal cords, causing your head to tilt to allow him more space to roam. 

Lips curling into a smile as he pulls away, his hand sliding from the table to your arm, then raising and gently pulling at your hair, “You didn’t answer me.” 

“God, fuck, no it doesn’t bother me,” you trap his lips in yours, tilting your head up so the orange glow of the street lamps outside shine into your eyes before you shut them, finding yourself lost in the entity of your lover. The slowest ministrations of your hips trying to roll against his, to seek out friction and closeness and the yearning of him to once again be a part of you, “Wonwoo.” Your tone is darker, needier, wanting as he presses his clothed self flush against you. 

A huff of air escaping you as he once again pulls his lips away from you, and then the gentle rolling of his hips against yours ceases as well. Eyes opening to find him looking over you, not scrutinizing, it seems as if he was rather admiring the picture that sat before him.

Head tilting, the presence of desire absent for a moment as he muses, “I think it looks amazing.” He hums as he lowers himself to his knees, somehow the softness of his voice makes you want to comply with every word uttered, “Can you sit on the table for me?”

Hands brushing against tulle and satin and a plethora of other fabrics you could care less about at this moment in time as you find your hold on the table as you move to sit atop its surface, your heeled shoes clattering to the floor as you do so. Wonwoo’s fingers caress your calves as he leans himself closer to your core, his warm breath making your mind conjure some of the most unspeakable thoughts. 

“I’ll have to let the designer know he did an amazing job,” you smile, involuntarily shivering as he slides his hands upwards, the hem of your dress inching towards your stomach the further he ascends. 

His face merely inches from your core now, your hips squirming at the proximity. “I think he’d be appreciative of the feedback,” Wonwoo smiles, his face now obscured from vision due to the collection of fabric, you have half a mind to tear it off of you, not that you ever realistically would. It’s far too precious. 

The rip of fabric, the coolness of the air hitting your now exposed sex, you whine in protest as he begins to slide the now torn fabric of your underwear away from you. 

“I’ll get you some more,” his right hand hovers over you, he uses his middle finger to swipe up the length of your slit, causing you to draw in a sharp breath. 

“Are you a lingerie atelier now— Fuck,” you begin to joke before he begins to tease your clit with the tip of his finger. He moves his middle finger slowly, languidly as he draws deep breaths and stifled moans from your lips.

After a moment, your own hand moves to your breast, trying to fondle the flesh through several layers of fabric. He changes his approach, moving lover to tease your entrance before he slips his finger inside of you and with a moan you roll your hips to try and meet him halfway. 

It’s not until he eases in another finger and begins to slowly draw them in and out of you as well as latch his lips to your clit that your vocalizations rise in volume. The digits curl inside of you, his tongue swirls around the sensitive bundle of nerves and your head finds itself lost in the euphoria of the moment, your hand falling away from your breast to find itself running through Wonwoo’s locks. He hums against you as your fingers tighten their hold, nearly sending you over the edge.

“Are you close?” You look at him, lips coated with the sheen of you, a tinge to his voice that straddles between curiosity and a carnal question. 

Hand moving from his hair to his cheek you can only nod, trying to roll your hips to the increasing speed of his fingers inside of you. His eyes watching you as you do finally reach your climax, chortled breaths escaping you as well as a slew of incoherent words and his name. Wonwoo can feel the way your walls spasm around his fingers and sighs to himself as he pulls them from you, wishing that it had been more than just his digits that had made you cum.

You sit up, a little dazed and a lot more aroused than you were when you’d first stepped into the apartment. Wonwoo rises to greet you, your lips clash together and you can taste yourself on his tongue as you vie for dominance. 

“Switch with me?” You ask, parting for air, voice whispering as your hands move to once again toy with the hem of his collared shirt.

And he does, backing away from you enough so you can land your feet on the floor and trade places with him. Your turn to take control for a moment, you feel the hardness of his cock through his pants as you tentatively palm it, trying to elicit some sort of sound from him. 

“Come on, Woo, I know you’ve got it in you,” you tease, running your hand up and down the etching of his member, slowly and meticulously trying to draw him out of his shell. 

“Have what—” he cuts himself off as you run your fingers over his cockhead, a low groan as if he hadn’t wanted you to hear it. 

“Have that,” you lean forward, pressing a kiss to his cheek. The taste of salt greeting you, the sheen of sweat on his face glittering in the lights dimly illuminating his apartment. You fall to your knees, sending shivers down your spine as the cool air that balloons the skirt of your dress as your knees hit the floor with a dull thud. Hands sliding up his thighs, you move to his belt to hastily unfasten it.

It falls away, as do his pants and underwear, you were going to mention the lack of cartoon characters adorning it, but you were too preoccupied taking him into your mouth to comment. 

Tongue running over the slit on his head, it draws the sweetest sounds from him, saccharine-like honey that drips from his moans and rings around your ears. His hand running through his hair, his other gripping the table as he tries to stop himself from bucking into your mouth as you take him further. 

Your knees ache from the rough floor, the pain not deterrent enough for you to forget about the wetness between your legs. Fidgeting as your head bobs up and down on his length, you don’t think he takes notice. Yet Wonwoo was more perceptive than he let on at times, considering his hand now rests upon your hollowing cheek. 

“Get up,” Wonwoo urges, his voice hoarse as he tries to gently nudge you away from his cock. “I want to cum inside of you.” When you do let him leave your mouth, a thin line of spittle trailing from his head to your lips you hear him sigh out again. It was so easy to get a reaction out of him, he almost feels like putty in the palm of your hand. 

The indents from the wood settle into the flesh of your thighs as he helps you stand and lightly pushes you back onto the table. His belt clattering onto the floor as he fully kicks off his pants, his shoes, and briefs. 

You wonder at this point if you should take off the dress, but as your hand begins to reach for the zipper, he stops you, “No, keep it on.”

He kisses you again, taking his hands to gently pry your legs open so he can align himself with your core. Lips parting, you feel his cock brush up against your entrance before he pushes himself into you, his hands moving to trail up the sides of your legs. Slowly, feeling every inch enveloping him as his fingers tighten their hold on the skin of your hips. 

“Fuck,” he moans, fully sheathing himself inside of you. His brown eyes meeting yours, tongue darting out to wetten his lips, “Do you need a minute?”

When you shake your head no you fully expect him to start rutting into you with reckless abandon as he did most nights you stayed together. But he doesn’t, instead he starts to roll his hips into you, not trying to fuck the life out of you, rather trying to gauge how and what made you feel good.

“Woo,” you mutter with half-lidded eyes, hands trailing up his arms and to his shoulders, your nails digging into the now exposed skin. It was sure to leave marks, but only small crescent moons that would fade away come morning. 

It’s whispered ‘I love you’s’ that fall from his lips as your forearms wrap around his neck to pull you up and draw him in closer, a thrumming in your chest each time he says it. And you repeat it back to the best of your ability, to find a constancy in him that hadn’t ever made itself presentable to you in a lover or significant other before. 

For a moment you’re able to lose yourself in him, to forget that he’d be leaving you soon and your heart along with it. You’re enveloped in the presence of him and you wouldn’t have it any other way, you wouldn’t let it be any other way. 

Wonwoo’s thrusts become more sporadic as he reaches his end, one of his hands leaving your side and moving to your clit to try and bring you over with him one more time. You’re sensitive and strung out on him, legs tensing as they try to close, stopping around his waist as you press your forehead to his shoulder. 

He cums with little warning, other than his hand moving from your clit and back to your side as he stills himself within you. The sweat collected on both of your bows intermingles when he presses his forehead against yours. His breathing slows as he regains his composer, kissing you as he slides himself out of you. When he pulls away to slide on his briefs you land your feet on the ground with shaky legs, holding the edge to balance yourself.

Wonwoo turns back to you and almost has to stifle a short laugh, your face contorting to the feel of his essence leaving you, it’s strange but not overtly bad. Just not something you’re fully accustomed to.

“Let’s wash up, hm?” Hand taking yours, he leads you to his small bedroom, only stopping midway so he can help you out of your clothes. He unzips the dress, the cool air of his apartment fully encasing you as he pulls the fabric off your shoulders. You feel his lips press a soft kiss onto the nape of your neck and he catches the scent of the perfume you’d applied earlier in the evening. The dress falls, pooling at your feet and you step from its depths and onto the hardwood floor. Before you’re able to reach for the dress, Wonwoo’s swept it up, already moving to hang it in his closet. 

The two of you shower together, reminiscing on a handful of occasions with him that you’d fully devoted to memory but also of the future as well. Wonwoo was excited to leave, every mention of it fractalizing your heart just a little bit more, not that you’d let him know, you just put on a smile and tell him how happy you are for him.

You borrow a shirt from him to wear to bed, exiting the bathroom while he brushes his teeth and combs his hair. While he does, you wander his room, looking at the shelves that adorn the space. Most books atop them are about tailoring or sewing, things that wouldn’t typically draw your attention. You then spot a few that are familiar, the bindings nostalgic under your fingertips as you trace them, no names or words that address their titles.

“I never realized I made you so many,” You muse, looking at Wonwoo who’s just exited the bathroom.

“I have been your loyal customer for a while now, you know.” He notes, falling into his bed and collecting the blankets, he pats the mattress beside him to beckon you closer. 

You fall back into the bed beside him after you saunter over, encased in the blankets for a moment by the duvet he tosses atop you before you look at him, “I don’t want you to go.” It’s a simple statement that carries all too much weight for those six words alone, they lie heavily in your chest, saying them aloud does nothing to stop that. 

“I know, I know,” There’s a hurt in his voice as he knows just how difficult it’ll be to part from you. “We’ve still got almost two months left before I go though, let’s try to make the most of it, okay?”

1965, Summer It had only been a month since Wonwoo landed in Paris. His French is awful, and he only knows how to call things pretty, cute or something lewder thanks to the teachings of his fellow apprentices. There are bags under his eyes from another sleepless night, a cigarette hanging from his lips (a terrible habit he’s picked up as of late), and the mute sounds of some song playing out of the bar he’d just crawled out of. It’s probably Bridget Bardot but he can’t tell from his position, not that he can understand anyway, he’s barely been able to comprehend his own thoughts.

His fingers ache, only nude bandages that are a little too pink wrapped around them because he can’t find the cartoon ones that you’d given him tucked away in his things. His eyes feel strained, tired, and pulsing from overanalyzing stitching and searching cloth for tears, pulls or other impurities. Montmartre was beautiful, not that he was able to see it often as he was constantly working. And if he wasn’t working, he was probably trying to catch up on lost rest.

This was his dream, a part of it though, the other half had you somewhere tucked away in the echelons of his fantasy life. Although he was doing what he wanted, what he loved, there was something about you being in absentia that had him feeling empty. He’d written countless letters but only signed and sent a handful, worried of saying too much and worried of saying too little. To you and his father, his father that had sent him on this path at a young age. ‘Make something of yourself,’ he’d said when Wonwoo was seven, ‘you’re too ambitious not to.’

If he could laugh at him now, he would. But his father was an ocean away, retreated somewhere in the depths of Wonwoo’s childhood that he’d rather leave behind. 

Yet on the other hand, he’d written you what felt like every day and struggled with each composition. Wonwoo had never missed someone’s voice as much as yours, the gentle feel of your hand intertwined with his or even the sounds of your footsteps trailing through your shop. He’s supposed to be happy, why isn’t he happy?

The cigarette burns, the acrid smoke filtering into his mouth as he inhales, a plume of what’s left leaving him when he huffs out, the cigarette dropped onto the ground, smoldering away. Hand flitting through his knotted locks, the dampness of sweat clinging to the pads of his fingertips as he brushes over his brow. 

Most people had dropped everything to work under Jeonghan, a certified maestro of their craft. And Wonwoo had dropped everything, not begrudgingly at first, but as the dog days of the beginning of summer and the end of spring drew near there was a rising anxiety within his chest. If you had asked him not to leave as he was standing at the terminal’s gates, he probably wouldn’t have gone at all. 

He’s been giving up more and more lately; sleep, adequate meals, a solitary living space. Wonwoo’s worried when this serpent of work will seek out to devour you away too. It’s not that he wants to let you go, but if he’s to make something of himself he might have to, as cruel and malicious it may seem. In that you waiting for him was burdensome, not to him but to yourself. While he’s off gallivanting in an ancient city you’re in your shop, was he just supposed to expect you to idly sit by and wait for him? He’s not sadistic enough to tether you down to the unknown.  

1965, Late Autumn. You’d come home that morning with a new record tucked under your arm, the words ‘Rubber Soul’ peeking over the paper sheath that the store had given you as you set it down on your countertop after discarding your shoes and jacket by the door. You hum to yourself, shedding your bag, reaching for the new record, and bringing it over to your player, Sooyoung’s worn copy of one of Billie Holiday’s albums resting on the platter. With gentle hands you remove it from the spindle, tucking it away in its cover before releasing Rubber Soul from its own and setting it onto the player. System turned on, you place the needle on the record and adjust the volume so the first few riffs of ‘Drive My Car’ begin playing through the speakers. 

Nodding your head to the rhythm, you set down the cover and make your way to the kitchen, noticing the small pile of postcards and letters you’d received from Wonwoo over the last few months. He’d been so busy he hadn’t really had the time to call or write a lot for that matter. But it wasn’t like calling was free, especially an international connection. With each new card that he sent to you, there seemed to be less that he wrote of and more empty space adorning it. 

“Hey,” You hear Sooyoung say as she exits her room, her purse in hand as she heads to the hall tree to grab a coat, “I’ve gotta head in, someone completely ruined the display for the winter collection.”

“I thought you were in charge of that?” A tilt of your head as she passes by. Sooyoung’s one of the floor managers of the flagship B. Altman some blocks away, and that left her unnecessarily stressed by the minute details of the store. 

“I am, but I let one of the new girls try and set it up,” a frown as she opens the door, “That’s what I get for trying to take on a protegee. I’ll be back around dinnertime, okay?” 

“I’ll see you then,” waving her off with a hand as the door slams shut, the sound of your friend’s key locking the door before the apartment falls into silence once more, the only sound coming from the next song on the vinyl. 

Stifling a yawn with your hand you head to the living room, plopping down onto the sofa as you reach for a magazine atop the table. It was one of your roommate’s detailing a plethora of fashion information, this seemed something like Wonwoo could take to more so than yourself. Before you’re able to get lost in the pit of missing him again the phone on the table next to the sofa begins to ring. 

“Hello?” Magazine tossed aside, you reach for the phone, pulling it to your ear as you lay reclined on the couch. Fully expecting a family member or one of Sooyoung’s friends over the line you sound a little more crass than normal.

“Whoa,” a familiar, achingly distant voice calls out, “Did I do something wrong?” 

“Wonwoo?” Eyes widening, your grip on the phone tightening before your brow furrows and you sit up, “Where are you?”

“I’m actually in a phone booth outside of Jeonghan’s shop right now,” A short laugh, there’s something quiet about it, “I feel like I’m in some sort of film.”

“It sure sounds like you are,” distancing yourself from the line for a moment as the connection pops and crackles. Ear returning to the phone you feel your heart swell as you lean against your wall, “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” He sounds apprehensive, as if there’s something ruminating behind his lips, but he was too afraid to say it. “I’m sorry for not calling sooner, it’s just been extremely busy here.”

Twirling the phone cord absentmindedly with your finger you shake your head, not that he could see you, “It’s alright.” The disquiet in his voice puts you on edge, “What’s wrong?” 

“I’ve been thinking,” He’s holding his breath, and you don’t realize that you are too.

“Of?”

“Ending this. Us.” There’s a pause, a bated breath, and a clearing of his throat before he begins to speak again. It sounds robotic, rehearsed, even. “I don’t want to leave you waiting for me when I don’t even know when I’ll be back.”

“If you don’t think I’d wait for you you’re ridiculous,” A confused tone to your voice, you blink several times as if that were the cure-all to comprehend what he was suggesting. “Is there someone else?”

“God, no, of course not. It’s just—” A break in the facade for a moment before it turns static again, “You deserve constancy. I don’t want you waiting around for me when you could be happier somewhere else with someone else who’s actually there for you.” 

“Are you serious?” With the thought of him being an ocean away you could barely go as kicking and screaming as you wanted to, but you can’t. It’s hard to collect your thoughts with so many jumbling around your head. 

“I’ll get Seungcheol or someone to stop by and get my things,” voice muffled, there was a small banging coming from the other end, as if someone’s hitting the outside of the phone booth that Wonwoo is situated in. 

“No,” you frown, a heavy feeling settling into your stomach. “I’ll drop the dress and your things off at the shop.”

“Keep the dress, it was a gift,” his voice insists, sounding defeated and tired. 

“I don’t want it, I want you, Wonwoo.”

He would rather watch the stars flicker and die from their sepulchered facades in the expanse above, watch the oceans shrivel and continents shrink, than be the source of your privation. It’s as if he can hear your heart break over the line. It isn’t loud, it isn’t ear shattering— it’s a hairline fracture that webs out and settles into every fiber of your being. He knows it because it’s the same thing he’s afflicted upon himself. 

“I’m sorry, I love you but there’s no feasible way that I can—” he pauses, and you hear a voice tinned by the crackling line. It’s French, sounds angry and causes Wonwoo to speak into the phone once more, “I— I have to go. I’ll call you back later so we can talk about this, okay?”

“Okay,” the word is lifeless as it leaves your mouth, you hang up and pull the phone away from your ear as if you could still hear his voice after you’d killed the call. 

You are a bag of bones, skin, and whatever else deigned itself rotted enough to crawl its way inside of you and flourish. Amber leaves looking more titian as you leave your apartment, a muted tone as you walk the streets and to your shop. The lights inside aren’t as bright as they once were, sounds far too muffled by the blood rushing to your ears as Vernon asks you what’s wrong.  

1966, Winter “Try this one,” The bartender standing in front of you sets down another glass. He’d been talking to you on and off the whole night trying to get your opinions on different drinks he’d been concocting to try and get put on the menu.

“What is it?” Amber liquid swirled around what looked like a dried slice of orange. The whiff of something floral and reminiscent of anise hits your nose, causing your face to scrunch. “That’s not straight absinthe and cognac, is it?”

“Cognac Tesseron, Peychaud’s Bitters, simple syrup, and just the smallest taste of absinthe,” Carefully crafted and delicately handled you pick up the glass and observe it some more. “I’m thinking about calling it the Forget Me Not, but we’ll see what management thinks of that name.” Voice tinged with that oddly specific Brooklyn accent he turns to his other clientele, leaving you with the newest cocktail. Lips carefully pressed to the glass you drink, mulling over the flavors as you do so. After thinking about it you set the glass down, lips pursed together, it wasn’t a bad taste you just wished there were more acidic notes to it.

Alone. You sit alone in the dimly lit bar that denoted itself as La Fête. Why, you aren’t sure, but the cacophony of spirits mixed into the glass between your fingers is the only thing that has made you feel well the entire evening. Some comedian stands on the stage a few meters away, giving off a routine that isn’t hitting as well as it should be. There’s muffled laughs and chortles from the audience in front of him, yet you’ve barely heard a word he’s said.

“Mind if I join you?” A voice rings out to your right; you’re unable to see who it is until they take a seat next to you.

“Mr. Hong,” Eyebrows raised as Joshua turns to face you, “What brings you here?” You hadn’t seen him in a month or so, not after that had happened.

“Vernon told me I could probably find you here, and Sooyoung also told me about trying to cheer you up since the gifts she got you weren’t working,” A smirk playfully bouncing on his lips. “You look awful.” Hands folding atop each other as he adjusts himself in the seat.

“What makes you say that?” Scoffing as you bring your glass to your lips, taking a sip of your drink before setting it back down.

“Vernon did say you were going through something heavy.” His tone lowers, becoming more sympathetic and less lighthearted than it’d been a moment before.

The gentle ambiance of the bar around you, as well as the slew of alcohol in your drink, mellows your inhibitions and voice. It was the calmest you’d felt the entire night. “I just needed a break from all of this,” hand motioning towards your head. 

“I can understand that” Pausing for a moment he opens a nearby menu, perusing the selections. “I just came from a conference in D.C., aren’t you going to ask why?”

“Hmm, why?” You pose, head tilting as you turn to look at him.

“We’re acquiring some major stock in Marriott,” He says with a playful lilt, “Forcing a bunch of bigwigs to give up their assets is an adrenaline rush I won’t get anywhere else but there.”

“Sounds… fun?”

“In reality it’s just a bunch of stuffy old men with their own hands up their asses,” he hums, “Although I guess I have to get used to it; I’ll be one of those men someday.”

“Joshua Hong you will never be like any of those men,” sigh losing itself in your glass as you bring it back to your lips.

“I appreciate the sentiment,” as he closes his menu, he calls the bartender over, ordering some drink that sounds all too extravagant for your taste.

The pair of you sit in silence for a few moments, your glass now set atop the marble bar as your eyes wander around the warm, eclectic interior. “Are you merging them with that Canadian group? I can’t remember their name.” Snapping your fingers together as you try and recall. You look back to Joshua, who was beginning to take a drink of another one of the bartender’s creations.

The glass now moved away, and he frowns into the back of his hand; you wonder if it’s due to the alcohol. Head shaking in the negative he answers, “I actually left that partnership a year or so ago, decided I didn’t want any of ‘Daddy’s Help’ and tried my own hand at it.” Leaning back, he adjusts the lapels of his suit jacket, “And I’ve been doing a pretty good job if I do say so myself.” His confidence is a manic beast at times, but it never fails to make you roll your eyes. “What about you? Gonna commercialize your shop anytime soon?”

“As if,” You snort and look towards the darkened windows of the venue, “I’m perfectly fine in my shop,” Elbow resting on the counter, you lay your cheek atop your hand as your hair falls around your face, looking up at Joshua as your cheeks warm with embarrassment, “It’s all I can manage.”

Joshua laughs, it’s hearty and you feel your pulse rise along with the heat in your cheeks, “Don’t sell yourself short.” Shoulder shrugging, he returns to his drink while you sit up, rubbing your cheek.

“We’ll see when I get there,” smirk showing itself again as his fingers trace circles on the light marble of the bar. “Oh, weird, crazy question really,” His hand moves to his jacket, fumbling around one of the inside pockets for a moment as he searches for something. 

“Want to go to a wedding with me?” A piece of elegantly cut cardstock tossed down onto the bar, you don’t recognize the names scrawled onto the front of it in some pretentious calligraphy.

“Aren’t you dating that girl?” Fingers pulling the card closer, trying to recall the name, “Yoona or something? Why don’t you take her?”

Joshua almost chokes on his water as you speak, hitting his hand against his chest to get some air. “God no,” He coughed, setting his water glass down. “Yoona’s just a family friend, more like my big sister than anything else. If anything, my sister will get married before me.”

You nod your head in understanding, “Ah, is she still dating Seungcheol?”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t trust them to tell me if it was raining outside or not,” he muses. Suddenly his demeanor turns mischievous, you’re not sure how to properly describe it as he leans in towards you, the smirk back with a vengeance. “But why were you interested in who I’m dating? Are you curious?”

It takes most of your willpower to lean back away from him and roll your eyes as you scoff out, “As if.” He only increasingly gets closer before you put a hand on his shoulder and playfully push him back.

“And what about you?” Does he seem nervous? You hear a genuine interest in his voice, but you aren’t sure if you’re exaggerating it due to the miasma of spirits clouding your senses. “Has any prince charming come up and swept you off your feet yet?”

“Does it look like it?” Eyebrow raised, you motion to yourself, “Vernon told you why I’m here, didn’t he?” Frown settling onto your lips you finish your drink, setting it down back onto the bar with an audible clink. 

“He may have mentioned it in passing,” Joshua mutters, finger rubbing along the rim of his glass.

“I haven’t spoken to him in weeks, months even and he has the audacity to send in an order?” You try your best to sound indignant, but the truth was that it’d felt like a stab to your heart to see the hastily signed ‘Wonwoo Jeon’ adorning the invoice. Your heart had almost stopped then, you’d thought that you and he were, at that point, separate entities once more. “He made it blatantly clear he wants nothing to do with me anymore, he can go woo as many Parisians as he’d like, I’m over it.” Not yet, you aren’t. But maybe repeating it enough will make it a reality.

“You know what I think?” Joshua asks, finishing the rest of his drink as you look at your empty glass.

“I’m not drunk enough?”

“I think you’re plenty gone. But I don’t think you’ve ever let anything destroy you this much, or if you have, I’m a terrible friend for not realizing it. And with that being said, I will personally take up the reins to try and get you out of this slump,”

“Any other thoughts, O wise and wonderful mood maker?” 

“Yeah, this comedian’s garbage. I’ll take you to a Lenny Bruce set one day and you’ll laugh your ass off.”

“I appreciate it,” a snicker leaves you. “Anyway,” your eyes move to your watch, checking the time, “I should probably head back to my place, it’s getting late and I’ve got an early morning tomorrow.” You rummage around your bag for a crumpled mess of bills that you toss onto the counter in front of you.

You stand and begin moving towards the exit when Joshua speaks up, “Want me to walk with you?”

“If you want to,” pausing, you turn back to him and offer a smirk of your own, “it’s not too far away.” The two of you walk in silence through the winding interior of the bar as you make your way to the front entrance, you see through the large wooden doors that it is pitch black outside, thankfully the streetlights adorning the sidewalks keep things fairly visible. When the doors open and the two of you step outside you can’t help but let out a “Shit, it got cold.” 

“Here,” Joshua shrugs off his already unbuttoned suit jacket and hands it to you, you can see the thin dress shirt he’s wearing, and you wonder how he’s not shivering himself. “Did you leave your jacket inside?” He asks as you drape the soft fabric over your shoulders.

“At the shop,” Standing outside, your toes on the edge of the sidewalk, your head cranes, trying to remember which way you’d walked here. “It’s…” you look at the signs at the end of the street, “that way,” hand motioning towards your abode once you recognize the names. “It’s about a fifteen-minute walk, I can always call a cab or something, so you don’t have to worry about it.”

“It’s alright,” His shoulders shrug as the two of you begin walking, “It’ll help the alcohol get out of your system.” Had he seen you stumbling on your feet on your way out? If he did, he doesn’t say as the two of you walk the uneven streets, pushing through masses of tourists and civilians parading around the city. It’s not long until the crowds wear thin, leaving you, Joshua, and the occasional pedestrian roaming the streets. “I’ve always loved this city,” Joshua muses as the two of you stroll through one of the many parks dotting the town.

Nodding, “It’s lively for sure.” Your hands move to close his jacket tighter around your bare shoulders, “I don’t think I could imagine leaving it.”

“Maybe for a summer home though?” Joshua laughs, moving his hands to his pockets. “I remember how you’d stay inside whenever it snowed or went below thirty when we were kids.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, “I wouldn’t say it’s that much of a problem anymore, I’m just a big fan of the sun in all its glory, not when it’s obscured behind a wall of cl—” Perhaps you would’ve finished that sentence had the heel of your, admittedly too high-heeled shoe not gotten caught between one of the junctures of the sidewalk, causing you to fall forward. You feel a pair of hands on you, one wrapped around your waist and one on your shoulder, as the ground rapidly rises to meet you.

Eyes closed you hear, “Are you alright?” as you’re hoisted back up onto your feet, never feeling the impact of the ground. 

“I’m fine.” Once his hands had left you, you raise your hands to your cheeks, feeling the rushing blood warm your palms, “I guess I’m a little tipsier than I thought.”

Joshua looks at you for a moment, and then down to your feet, “I think you broke a heel.” Finger raised; you follow it downwards to look at the heel almost completely detached from the sole. “Here,” voice quickening as if to distract you from it, he takes your arm and puts it over his shoulder so you can lean some of your weight onto him, “wouldn’t want you to fall over again.” After offering him a quick smile and a small ‘thanks’ of gratitude you begin to walk again.

After a minute or so of walking, the pair of you take a turn onto one of the main drags of the city, the cool air soaking into you. “Do you mind if we stop for a second?” You ask, thinking you may have twisted your ankle when you tripped.

“Of course,” the two of you make your way to a bench along the sidewalk, you sit while Joshua stands next to you. It’s a moment of quiet before he speaks up again, “Are you feeling alright?”

You can only shake your head in the negative, for fear that you may explode should you open your mouth.

“What’s wrong?” He questions, sitting down next to you, his hand falling atop yours in an act of subtle comfort.

Everything. Your throat becomes dry as you lean forward and embrace him, unable to vocalize the horrid deluge of hopelessness and heartbreak washing over you. 

You had seen the shop where Wonwoo was apprenticing when you’d gone into Seungcheol’s one morning, it had been featured in some editorial that he subscribed to. Seeing that it was a beautiful boutique and was quite revered among local and international audiences hadn’t dampened the blow at all. Wonwoo hadn’t been lying when he said it was the opportunity of a lifetime.

It still hurts. You’d been selfish in trying to make things work, too absorbed in it you hadn’t felt him slipping away until it was too late. Vernon had sat you down one day and told you to shape up. Wonwoo wasn’t coming back and the sooner you realized it the sooner you’d get over him. You don’t remember how long you cried into his shoulder for. For the eidolon of him was beginning to fade now, the lingering remnants of it still striking you to the core whenever you catch a glimpse of it.

“I just want to go home,” you try your best to sound strong, hating that the veneer you usually kept was able to slip so easily. Pulling away from the other you move to stand, kicking off your shoes and moving to hold them before you begin to walk.

“Aren’t your feet going to get cold? It’s nearly the middle of winter,” Joshua calls out after you as he catches up, unsure of how to go about comforting you.

“I’ll be fine,” your toes cold on the concrete, “It’s only a few blocks away.”

It’s silence once more as the pair of you two amble to your apartment, the windows dark when you approach, Sooyoung must be out again. A sigh leaving you, alone again.

“Thanks for walking with me, Shua.” You stop, turning to your accompaniment and smiling softly at him.

“Shua?” His brow raises at that, “Are you sure you’re not still drunk? I don’t think you’ve called me that since we were twelve.”

“Yeah, I know. But I mean it, thank you.” Your other friends had tried to console you but Joshua’s attempt had been the most successful so far that had gotten you to even budge ever so slightly from the slump you’d found yourself in.

1967, Summer. The sparkler hisses as Joshua hands it to you, the bright end flickering with every centimeter the flame engulfs. A smile on your lips as you look at him, an equally bemused smile gracing his face as he steps away and begins handing out sparklers to a few other guests. After the host finishes handing out the sticks a large chorus of ‘Happy Birthday’ begins to ring out, directed at Jihoon Lee. 

You didn’t really know the guy, but Joshua said he was hosting a birthday bash at a lake house up in the Catskills this weekend and it was a good excuse to get away from the city for a bit. It was a work friend of his, not sure from which endeavor but you aren’t complaining. Work at the shop had been far too busy to manage with just Vernon and you, you’d been looking at several applicants, but you had a difficult time sifting through the resumes. This was a much needed, and much deserved, break away from it all. 

Before the sparkler has a chance to burn down to your fingertips you blow it out and set it onto one of the porcelain plates atop the table in front of you. A small crowd had gathered to sing and with the rapidly setting sun it was difficult to see familiar faces among the crowd.

“Looking for someone?” A pair of hands placed on your hips as the question sounds out, the familiarity of it making you smile a little brighter.

“Just you,” You turn, looking at Joshua.

“Oh?” He questions, leaning in for a brief kiss before pulling away, “You’ve got that look on your face.”

“What look?”

“The one that means you’re thinking of something,” A sparkle in his eye, the light from the nearby dock casting a green glow onto the lawn.

“Just work things,” you admit, “Even if I’m miles away from the shop it’s still on my mind.”

“Work’s a sickness, isn’t it?” He mutters, “Well, they’ve already started to cut the cake, want to head in and grab a slice?”

“Sure,” you say as his hands leave your sides, taking one of your hands in his and heading through the lawn and into the brightly lit interior of the home.

“Seungcheol said he’d be arriving a little later, my sister’s ready to blow a gasket but, when isn’t she?” Joshua laughs as you make your way to a nearby table, grabbing a plate with a precut slice of cake on it before turning back to him.

“Is this from the same bakery who made my cake last year?” You ask with nearly a mouthful of cake.

“I told you I made that cake,” he says jokingly, grabbing his own slice, “And if it were, would you say yea or nay for them making the wedding cake?”

“Yea. Definitely, this is by far the best buttercream I’ve ever had,” you nod, “Although I do need a drink.”

“Amaretto sour?” Questioning as he sets down his plate, ready to go off and mix your drink himself.

“You know I can’t,” a frown settling on your lips as you take another bite, “Just water.”

“I’ll be back in a sec,” Joshua says and heads to the bar in the next room over.

You move out of the way of the other partygoers looking for food and make your way to a window that looks out at the road in front of the house. As you watch, you see the bright headlights of a car pulling into the drive, trying to careen past the other vehicles lined up there. It must be Seungcheol.

It’d been a while since you’d last seen him, having to mail his orders to him now that you’d moved shop locations. So, you head to the front door, anxious to see an old friend. The door opens with a swing of grandeur, Seungcheol Choi stepping inside with a clear look of panic on his face.

Seungcheol spots you as he enters, rushing over to you, “She’s not angry, is she?”

“Your wife?” You question, putting a finger under your chin in thought, “She’s only told half of the people here how upset she is, so I think you still have time to save yourself.”

“I’d better get in there then,” he sighs, almost brushing past you before he stops, “I should also tell you that—”

You don’t hear what he says, though. Because you hadn’t realized that there was someone standing behind him until they step through the dark entranceway and into the bright lights of the foyer. For a moment it feels like time has stopped, the plate in your hand straining from the pressure your fingers now exert on it as you lock eyes with someone you hadn’t ever expected to see again.

It’s you who breaks away first, mumbling about needing to find Joshua while it feels as if your heart seizes upon itself in your chest. Before you’re able to rejoin the party, you feel a hand gently grasp your arm, “Can we talk?” The question is quiet, almost lost in the atmosphere of the celebration as Wonwoo asks.

A strangled gulp as you nod, setting the plate down on a small mail-table before you brush past him exit out of the front door. He follows you wordlessly, from the gravel path that wraps around the house and to the backyard that overlooks the lake. You keep walking, wading through grass that comes up to your knees until you’re standing on the wooden dock, the gentle sloshing of water hitting the posts giving you something else to focus on.

Face green in the glow of the dock light overhead, it beams around the soft fog rising from the water as you hope it would swallow you up instead of you having this conversation with Wonwoo. 

“You never returned my calls,” he says, standing several feet away. His tone isn’t accusatory, it sounds hurt.

“I kept forgetting.” Liar. Nails digging into your palms as your hands clench with an anxiety that hadn’t riddled you for two years. “And you only called four times.”

“Five.”

“Four.” Resolution in your voice as you try and stand as firmly as you can. The shoes you’re wearing are pinching your heels and you want nothing more than to kick them off into the water. You turn to look at him, trying to stay calm. “Would you have picked up even if I did call back?” A tangle in your stomach as you recall having Sooyoung answer the phone for the next handful of weeks after the two of you had parted, each time he’d called Sooyoung would say you weren’t home.

He hesitates, at least his body does, the words, “Of course I would have,” escaping him before he could prepare himself with a more eloquent response.  

“You seem to be doing well,” It’s silent until you break it, noting the suit he was wearing was from a higher end retailer.

“So, do you,” a break in his voice as he notices the crack in your demeanor, “I didn’t see you at Seungcheol’s wedding, I thought he would have invited you.”

“My mother got sick, so I missed it,” you recall having to forgo the event last year. Did that mean Wonwoo had been back that soon?

“You still have the dress.” There had been a melancholy deep set into your bones that had lasted for what seemed like lifetimes, now resurfacing more and more the longer you look at him. You’d forgotten about what you were wearing, the same dress that the tailor had labored unknown hours over and that had been the figurative wedge between you and him. Maybe this was some deity’s cruel sense of irony. “I still think it’s one of the best I’ve ever made,” 

“It’s a little tighter now but it’s still one of my favorites,” you can’t lie. Be it from the laborious love that was sewn into every stitch or the bygone memories associated with it, it was and still is one of the best pieces you own.

“I really was an idiot for letting you go, wasn’t I?” Hands shoved into pockets, he’s not sure what to do with himself.

“You did what you had to.” Brow hardening, a remembrance of the last time you’d spoken.

“Don’t say it like that,” a soft plea, he’d never meant to hurt you.

“Then how should I say it?” Bitterness you thought forgotten riddles every word you pose. 

“You know I tried to visit your shop when I first came back,” Deterrent of the conversation, he looks across the water to the distant shore. “But it was empty, some guy passing by had said you packed up months earlier and just left.”

“There was a water main break, ruined most of our inventory and we had to rebuild from scratch in a new place.” You still remember the dread you’d felt that morning, walking in to find everything in shambles.

“With Joshua’s help?”

“Joshua helped.”

“Congratulations on your engagement, by the way,” eyes flickering to the ring on your finger, the light of the dock glinting off the main stone. “He’s a lucky man.”

Wonwoo sounds bitter, you can understand why but you can’t understand one thing. “Why did you come? I’m sure that Seungcheol said that I was going to be here.”

“I don’t know.” The answer is simple, but there’s a heaviness to it that you can feel. “I’m supposed to be flying out to Milan tomorrow. I guess I just wanted to see you again.”

“Did you expect me to fall into your arms, Wonwoo? To take you back?” Lip bitten, you’re sure you were going to draw blood if you kept at it any longer.

“Maybe I did when I came back last year, when I’d tried to see you.” He frowns, “I think now I want to make sure you’re happy.”

Happy. It feels as if that word dances off of the water behind you, across the sound and into the forest. Were you? The encroaching despair that had taken aim and marked you when Wonwoo had left was gone, a memory overwritten by the years that had followed, by the people who had followed. The shedding of yourself that came when he left took a while but without a doubt you can truly say this is the most complacent you’ve ever been.

The door to the lake house opens some ways behind Wonwoo, the lights from inside spreading across the lawn in an obscene spotlight on the two of you. A silhouette stands in the doorway, it’s easy to tell who the figure is as he leans against the door frame. You smile as you look at the outline of Joshua, heart swelling as it once had for the other man in front of you.

“Yeah, Wonwoo, I’m happy.”

enjoy what you read? leave a comment! it helps with motivating us writers to keep producing content for our lovely readers ❤

[a11eya]

BAKUGOU KATSUKI: MASTERLIST

MULTI-CHAPTER

lights will guide you home (27.1K) (IN-PROGRESS)

Soul-lights aren’t as common in this day and age as they were in the past, before quirks, but they’re common enough that people do still find their soulmates. At thirteen, you meet Bakugou Katsuki, and he lights up for you in orange and gold. You tell him he's your soulmate. He sneers and tells you that you aren't his. He makes your adolescence miserable until you part ways. You meet again as adults, late at night, in a grocery store, over a pile of bok choy. He apologizes for how he treated you when you were children. (In which you have a choice—to reject Bakugou's apology, reject him, or to let him show you the man he's become, to learn with him what it means to love and forgive.)

do you still think about me? (13.6K) (COMPLETED)

Okay, so you had the biggest, most embarrassing crush on Bakugou when you were both in high school. He was kind of your first love, if you believe in those kinds of things. But you got over it. It's fine. You see Bakugou sometimes at hangouts, at get-togethers. He's in your orbit, or you're in his, because of your mutual friends. You're all adults now, so it's fine. It's a little weird, but fine. You're supposed to be on vacation, at a place that's hours away from Musutafu. You're not sure what you've done to deserve it, but Bakugou's here too. And instead of both of you pretending the other doesn't exist, as usual, he's talking to you. He's everywhere. It's fine. (It's not fine.)

ONESHOTS

unfiltered (2.6K)

Bakugou's hot, smart, a literal hero, and best of all, he's the best roommate you've ever had. Sure he's grumpy a lot of the time and he's a terror if you're too loud after he's gone to bed, but he cooks! He cleans!! Who can blame you for developing a little crush on him? You've managed to keep it under wraps for the better part of a year. It's just your luck that the day you're hit by a quirk that removes your brain to mouth filter is the day Bakugou breaks routine. He comes home a little too early from the gym in a tight black compression shirt that's made its way into several of your fantasies, and instead of saying hello, you blurt out— “Fuck, you’re so hot.”

FICLETS AND IDEAS

cologne (250 words)

you come home smelling like todoroki.

it's you (405 words)

bakugou's never been with anyone before. he asks you to show him how.

in a new light, pt. 2 (374, 124 words)

buying his magazine spread was supposed to be a joke. you didn't intend to catch feelings.

treasure (332 words)

you catch a glimpse of a human warrior in your forest, one with yellow hair and red eyes. he's yours, you decide. he's perfect.

exercise (172 words)

bakugou likes to work out to the sound of your voice.

playful (121 words)

his face fits in the palm of your hand so nicely.

start something (203 words)

bakugou likes to sleep shirtless most nights.

number one fan (196 words)

you're a big fan of pro hero dynamight.

enchanted (204 words)

he's human. you're not. he's off limits.

check me out (188 words)

bakugou is an absolute menace once he catches you checking him out.

sunscreen (227 words)

bakugou takes care of you on vacation.

coffee cake (525 words)

you've had a little crush on the coffee shop owner next door for a while now.

saltwater (418 words)

bakugou doesn't like when people look at you at the beach.

tease (407 words)

bakugou makes you finish what you started.

devotion (318 words)

every day, bakugou shows you how much he loves you.

[cyripticchronicler]

oki oki so basically a muggle bookstore au where shy!remus is a worker there, f!writer!reader just moving into town, and after a while, shes a regular and remus starts to yk, get a little crushy crush. And it’s mutual 2 so thats gud. He finally asks her on a date or sum when its been 6 months since they like talked with like flowers and chocolate and everything (AWWWWW). THEN THEN THEN, they hang out at his house and the other marauders walk in and be like, “you finally asked her out? BOUT FCKING TIME!” And then they all laugh and hang out then BOOM smut! (If you’re comfortable of course!)

sorry if its a weeee bit long, its 1AM when i saw the cry for requests so 🤷‍♀️

BYEEE! (My signature emoji is 🚐)

Whispers of the Page - Remus Lupin

Pairing: Shy!Remus Lupin x F!writer!Reader

Summary: Having recently moved, you were in dire need of more books. But the last thing you expected was to catch the owner of the bookshop's attention.

Word count: 4k+ (I went overboard)

Warnings: Smut (My first smut ever posted plz be nice) Kissing, shy Remus?? Is that a warning?

A/N: Thank you so much for requesting!! You're my first request EVER so thank you I appreciate it so much! I hope I did your request justice, I tried my hardest :)

Masterlist

⚝⭑☪⭑

Humming quietly, your heels click along the cobbled path. You hold your coat up above your head in a desperate attempt to keep your hair dry. Goosebumps spread over your skin, and you sigh in relief when you find the store you’ve been wanting to visit for weeks now.

Rushing into the warmly lit shop, the bell jingles when you enter. The smell of old books and candles immediately engulfs you, warming your body from head to toe and you shift so your coat is slung over your arm.

Your heeled boots are quiet against the patterned carpet, and you take a few moments to take everything in. The bookshop is covered with books, ones that look brand new and others that have been well loved, their spines cracked and pages doggy-eared. Lamps light the room, placed in every nook and corner of the cramped space. 

Looking to the right, you jump slightly when you realise you’re not alone. Standing behind a covered counter stands a young man, book in hand as he reads quietly, fingers turning the page every few minutes. He’s dressed well, an old grandpa sweater tucked into a pair of brown dress pants. His brown, shabby hair shields his face, but you peek at the sight of his sharp jawline. 

Wanting a proper look at him, you mutter a “Hello,” heart speeding up when he looks at you, his gentle eyes meeting yours. You didn’t expect him to be so pretty. He’s gorgeous. You knew he’d be if his jawline was any indication. His face is covered with scars, but that doesn't diminish his beauty, it adds to it. His cheeks flush when he notices you staring at him and he looks down to bookmark his book before looking up. 

“Hi, welcome. Is there anything I can help you with?” His voice is warm and smooth like honey, a red flush warming his cheeks as he avoids eye contact. 

You smile at his shyness, moving to a shelf at grabbing ones you find interesting. “No, thank you. I’ve just moved and I wasn’t able to bring any books with me.” You hold up your hands that are already stacked with books. “I need to stock up.”

You hear him place his book down from where you're inspecting this fantasy book, listening to his quiet steps as he walks towards you. He leans against the shelf beside you, awkwardly placing his hand on his hip before dropping it, falling to his side as he stands straight, cheeks still tinted red. 

“Do you need any book recommendations?” He questions, his eyes finally coming in contact with yours. You feel a cool shiver run down your spine but you ignore it. “Yeah,” You shoot him a shy smile, “I’d love some.” It was a slight lie. Sure, you’d love more book recommendations but you definitely didn't need any to add to your long list of books to read. 

He starts listing off more books, seemingly more comfortable while he wanders around the store, picking up books as he goes. “So,” He starts, “You said you’ve just recently moved?” He inspects an older-looking book before adding it to the pile. 

“Yeah, I decided it was time to leave my home town and focus more on writing.”

“Writing, eh? What do you write?”

Your cheeks heat, though you will them not to, readying for the teasing to come. “I write romance books.” His eyes perk up, shooting me a small smile as he adds another book to the pile. “I love romance books. Written any that I’d know?”

I laugh, following him to the counter. “No, I haven’t published a book. Yet.”

He starts scanning the books, placing them in a brown paper bag as he does. “Well, you must tell me when you do. I want to read it.” His cheeks flush as he speaks the words, hands slightly shaking while he rings you up. 

You notice the cost being cheaper than you expected and shoot him a curious look which he just whispers a quiet “Half price.” You will your cheeks not to heat, paying for the books with a barely concealed smile. You go to leave, bag in hand but stop at the exit. 

“What’s your name?” 

He looks up from where he’s staring blankly at his book. “Remus. You?”

You mutter your name, trying your best to not skip down the pathway, already planning your next visit to the store. 

–

Your next visit was only a week later, and your mind coming up with multiple excuses to go back all week until you finally came up with a viable one. 

It’s your nephew's birthday soon and he loves reading as much as you do so you’ve decided to stop by the store to pick up a present for him. Bell ringing as you enter, you notice Remus isn’t standing behind the counter like before and frown. 

Warm glow guiding your path, you make your way to the young adult section, hands tracing the spines of books as you search for a specific one. Your head turns at the sound of shuffling coming towards you. Heating when you spot Remus making his way to you, a pile of books in hand while he searches for an empty spot on the shelves. 

He looks up and jumps when he spots you, eyes wide and cheeks flushing almost instantly. Biting your lip to withhold your laughter, you attempt to control your smile. “Sorry, did I spook you?”

He snaps out of his trance, shooting a bright smile your way. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.” He laughs breathlessly, hand reaching up to scratch the back of his neck before he remembers the books in his hands and hurries to catch them before they fall to the floor. 

“You wouldn’t happen to have They Both Die At The End in that pile, do you?” You grin, gesturing to the books in his hands. 

“Not on me, but I think I have a couple of copies in the back. Let me just put these books away and I’ll grab one.” You nod and follow behind him while he puts the last few books away, waiting outside the ‘staff only’ door while he goes around back and grabs the book

Your next visit was only a week later, and your mind coming up with multiple excuses to go back all week until you finally came up with a viable one. 

It’s your nephew's birthday soon and he loves reading as much as you do so you’ve decided to stop by the store to pick up a present for him. Bell ringing as you enter, you notice Remus isn’t standing behind the counter like before and frown. 

Warm glow guiding your path, you make your way to the young adult section, hands tracing the spines of books as you search for a specific one. Your head turns at the sound of shuffling coming towards you. Heating when you spot Remus making his way to you, a pile of books in hand while he searches for an empty spot on the shelves. 

He looks up and jumps when he spots you, eyes wide and cheeks flushing almost instantly. Biting your lip to withhold your laughter, you attempt to control your smile. “Sorry, did I spook you?”

He snaps out of his trance, shooting a bright smile your way. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.” He laughs breathlessly, hand reaching up to scratch the back of his neck before he remembers the books in his hands and hurries to catch them before they fall to the floor. 

“You wouldn’t happen to have They Both Die At The End in that pile, do you?” You grin, gesturing to the books in his hands. 

“Not on me, but I think I have a couple of copies in the back. Let me just put these books away and I’ll grab one.” You nod and follow behind him while he puts the last few books away, waiting outside the ‘staff only’ door while he goes around back and grabs the book you want. 

“Thank you,” You grin when he hands you the book, walking to the counter while he follows. You spot a worn book on the counter and recognise it immediately.  “You’re reading Pride and Prejudice?”

“Re-reading,” He corrects. “It’s one of my favourite books.” He smiles, stuffing his hands in his pants pocket while he stares. 

“It’s one of my favourite books too!” You exclaim, rather too enthusiastically. “It’s tied with Emma.”

He breaks the short eye contact and scans your book. “I haven’t read that yet, but I’ll add it to my list.”

You grow shy, hands fiddling with your sweater nervously. “Yeah, you could tell me what you thought about it, too.” His eyes widen adorably at your words, cheeks red as a tomato while he nods furiously. 

“Y-yeah.” He hands you the book and you smile, making your way to the exit. “I’ll see you next time, Remus.”

–

‘Next time’ turned into visiting his shop fortnightly, your bank account getting lighter each time you visited the shop. Over time, through scarce conversation, you’ve learnt that Remus owns the bookshop and is the only one who works there, and that, out of his two best friends Sirius and James, he’s the only one who enjoys reading. 

He’s learnt that you’re working part-time at this bakery while you work on getting your first book published and that you’ve been writing for years, but only decided to turn it into a profession recently. 

It’s clear that Remus likes books, and he’s visibly more comfortable when talking about them. Instead of his quiet voice, he gets louder and waves his hands around in enthusiasm. You find it adorable and have to bite your tongue to stop yourself from asking him out every time. 

You’re not even sure he likes you. I mean, sure, he’s all blushy and shy around you but he could act like that around everyone. 

Months of talking and wandering around the bookstore have gone by, and every day you find it harder to control your infatuation with him. 

And, though you admire the beautiful bookshop, you’re dying to actually go out with him. 

And that’s what brings you here today, on a cloudy day, rain threatening to fall at any moment. You don’t have any books to buy, or any recommendations you want, you’re only here for one thing and one thing only; to ask Remus out. 

The familiar ring of the bell greets you as you enter, your eyes instinctively searching for Remus, spotting him in the corner of the store, his sharp features highlighted by the dimly lit lamps. 

He looks up from where he’s dusting a shelf, eyes lighting up as he meets yours. “Hey!” Walking over towards you, he reaches his arm out before awkwardly letting it hang by his side. Casting a look at the ‘Staff Only’ door a few feet away, his hands start fidgeting with his red patterned grandpa sweater. “I uh- I have something for you.” He mutters, suddenly shy as he avoids your eyes. 

Your eyes light up, cheeks turning a light shade of pink. “Really? You didn’t have to get me anything.” His cheeks flush even redder if possible, and you bite your tongue to hold back a loud ‘awww.’

“It’s in the back. Let me just-” He gestures to the back door before hurriedly walking through it. Your eyebrows raise when you hear loud thumping and quiet swearing.

“Remus? Are you okay?” The sounds of crashing stop immediately and he clears his throat before responding. His voice still cracks when he shouts, “I’m coming!”

That’s what she said.

A second later he comes back out, a hand behind his back as he attempts to hide whatever crinkles behind him. You take a deep breath and feign confidence. “I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you too.”

He nods in acknowledgement, using his free hand to scratch awkwardly at his nose. “I-I would prefer if I talked first.”

You nod your head, offering him a reassuring smile. He smiles in return before showing me what was behind his back. You can’t stop the small gasp from passing your lips, eyes wide as you take the ‘bouquet’ of books from his stretched-out hand. 

“T-” You clear your throat, “This is for me?” Cheeks hot, he nods and rubs the back of his neck. “I-I also bought you chocolates. I wasn’t sure when I was going to see you next so they’re still at home.” He takes a deep breath and meets your eyes. “Go out with me. Please.”

Your eyes widen an unconstrained snort escaping your nose. Cheeks flushing in embarrassment, you slap your hand against your mouth, and you watch as his head hangs in defeat.

You hurry to fix your mistake. “Wait! No, no, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to laugh. I laugh in a lot of situations, whether good or bad- I once laughed at a wed- That doesn’t matter. What I’m trying to say is that I’d love to go out with you.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to-”

One hand still holding the bouquet, you reach your other hand out to rest on his shoulder, successfully gaining his attention as he looks up to meet your eyes.

“I do, I promise. I just found it funny because I came here today to ask you out but you- you beat me to it. I-It was just funny.” You shrug, awkwardly smiling at him. 

“So…You do want to go out with me?” You nod and his eyes light up, flashing you a blinding smile. “How about my place? Sunday? I don’t think my roommates will be home.” His eyes widen. “-Not that I’m trying to get ‘lucky’ or anything.” 

You nod your head enthusiastically, “Yeah! I’d love that.” Pulling out your phone, he takes it from your hand. “Just text me the address.”

Long, nimble fingers type in your phone and you attempt to distract yourself from his veiny hands. Your heart beats in excitement, mind already racing through what outfit to wear, and how you’ll style your hair.

How you’re going to get any sleep at all over the next couple of days is beyond you.

—

Knuckles against wood announce your arrival as you stand awkwardly in front of the door, comfy leggings and sweater barely protecting you against the cold, frigid air. Thankfully, you don’t have to wait long, Remus’ smiling face comes into view as he opens the door. 

“Hey, come in. It’s freezing out there,” He opens the door wider and you don’t hesitate in walking into the threshold, excited to get away from the horrible weather. He shuts the door behind you, the cold wind blocked off as your body finally starts to warm up.

“Wait here,” Remus says eagerly and you nod, taking the time alone to take your shoes off and calm down your racing heart. His house seems nice, a mixture of Remus and his two roommates Sirius and James personalities peaking through the decorations. 

You’re inspecting a miniature aeroplane that lays on a table beside the front door when Remus comes back, a pink heart-shaped box in his hand. He spots you looking at the plane and smiles, “James picked that out. He’s training to be a pilot right now. He loves flying.”

You nod in acknowledgement, shooting him a smile as an awkward silence fills the room. He scratches his head awkwardly before seemingly remembering the box. “Oh! T-this is for you.” He all but shoves it into your hands and you take it gratefully, carefully pulling away the heart-shaped lid to look at all the chocolates inside. 

You internally aw, “Thank you! I actually got you something as well.”

He perks up, eyes widening in excitement. “Yeah?” You nod, placing the chocolates down on the table and reaching into your bag to pull it out. 

His eyes are blown wide, lips slightly parted as he takes the string-bound pieces of paper from you. “No…Is this what I think it is?” He questions in shock. 

“If you’re thinking that this is my first official copy of my book then yes.” He’s shell-shocked, flipping through the pages and admiring the cover. “This-this is amazing, I can’t wait to read it.”

It’s like he can’t control himself as he walks closer to you, wrapping you into his arms, the scent of tea and parchment invading your nose as you stuff your face in his neck. You wrap your arms around his waist, too focused on the way he’s holding you to acknowledge the small ‘thank you’ he whispers your way. 

Pulling back a bit, you move your head out of his neck to look at him and he looks down at you with hooded eyes, almost like he’s in a daze. You reach up, one hand wrapping around the back of his neck, standing on your tippy toes as you lean forward. 

He does the same, licking his plump lips. His hot breath fans your face and your eyes flutter shut in anticipation. Pulling him closer, your lips are centimetres apart-

“Well, well, what do we have here?” You jump out of his grasp in seconds, turning towards the intruder while Remus swears. 

“I thought you guys would be back later.” Remus interrogates. You assume the ‘intruders’ are Sirus and James, easily being able to tell who's who from the amount of stories Remus has told you about them. 

Sirius is too busy sending Remus a teasing look to respond so James steps up, “We forgot something, don’t worry, Moony. We’ll be out of your hair in no time.” James leaves to retrieve whatever they forgot while Sirius stands, still smirking at Remus. 

He ignores Remus’ glare, turning to face you, “Hello! Sorry I haven't introduced myself, I’m Sirius. And you are?” He apologises though he doesn't sound sorry in the slightest. 

You tell him your name, watching as he shoots a teasing smile towards Remus. 

“I know you! Remus can’t shut up about you. Honestly, it’s either; ‘She looked so pretty today I almost died’ or, ‘Today's the day, I’m going to ask her out.’ Honestly, I probably know everything about you considering how much Remus talks about you.”

Remus groans quietly from beside you and you place your hand on his arm in reassurance - something Sirius doesn’t hesitate to wiggle his eyebrows at. “I’ve heard a lot about you too, it’s nice to finally put a face to a name.”

“-Yes it is.” James returns from his scavenger hunt, wallet in hand. “Hopefully now that Remus has finally asked you out he’ll stop talking about you so often. It’s always, ‘Her hair is so shiny,’ and, ‘Her eyes are brighter than the sun, they’re the light that guides my path, the sunshine to my moon-”

“Don’t you two have somewhere to be?” Remus’ dark, annoyed voice interrupts, cheeks flaming as he shoots a lethal glare their way.

James’s hands raised in surrender. “Okay then, I guess we should go before Moony over here kills us,” they walk towards the front door, cold air slicing through the warm room, “Remember to wear protection!” He screams before slamming the door shut. 

Turning to face Remus, an amused look on your face, he shoves his face into his hands but winces when he realises he’s still holding your book. His muttered threats filtered through the air and you bite your lip to conceal your laughter. He shakes his head, shooting me an apologetic look. “I am so sorry-”

“Why?” You laugh, “They seem great.” 

He visibly relaxes, “Really?” You nod, “Yeah. Now, what do you want to do? I have heaps of movie recommendations if you want to watch something.”

—

‘Ugh, as if!” Cher’s voice filters through the dim room, bundled in blankets, your head resting on Remus’ shoulder as you watch the movie. 

Eyes straying from the screen, you turn your head slightly to look up at Remus. He feels your gaze immediately, “Yes?” He asks, shifting his body so he can see you properly. 

You smile, “You’re just so pretty.” His cheeks flush red in record time, hand pulling you closer so your head rests against his chest. 

Long, nimble fingers play with your hair while the other rests along your back. You’re practically on top of him now, your legs between his own, face propped up against your hands that lean against his chest. 

“You’re pretty too,” He mutters, warm eyes tracing every inch of your face, filled with admiration like you were carved by Zeus himself. “Yeah? Are my eyes brighter than the sun? Do I guide your path-”

You barely noticed his small smile before his lips were on yours. Remus’ lips pressed against yours, emitting a muffled moan from your throat. His mouth takes yours in a mix of tongue and teeth, the hand that was resting against your back moving further down, resting on top of your ass. 

You prop yourself up with one hand beside his shoulder the other caressing his cheek. The hand that was playing with your hair now resting on your neck, gripped hard as he pulled you in closer, tongue mixing with yours like you were his lifeline. 

His lips move down your throat, the feeling in your gut enhancing as his hands move over your body, hair tickling your neck.

“Please,” You gasp when you finally move away, lips swollen and covered in spit. “Please what?” He questions teasingly, thumb reaching out to stroke your red cheeks. 

“I need you,” You whisper. Your stomach somersaulted at the hard feeling of something poking your stomach. Spurred on by his reaction, you kiss him again. He doesn’t waste a second in kissing you back, calloused fingers tracing your body, the pull of his lips eagerly smiling against your own. 

His mouth moved downwards, planting little kisses down your neck. Slowly, he shifts so that he’s on top of you, a mess of tangled limbs as you reach for his lips again. One of his hands slides over your hips and up your shirt. 

You gasp at the feeling of his warm hands against your cold body, goosebumps trailing after his touch. The other went to your ass, palming gently through your thin leggings. Gently, your hands trailed under his shirt, his hips pressing harder against yours. 

“Off,” You mumble through kisses, yanking on his shirt. He pulls away, taking his shirt off in one fluid motion before slamming his lips against your throat, wet mouth biting and sucking at your neck. 

You leaned into his touch, quiet moans slipping past your parted lips as you lost yourself in pleasure. Remus’ hips shifted against you, the friction sending a jolt up your spine. Hips moving on their own, you wrap your legs around his jean-clad waist, moving your hips against him, another jolt of pleasure shooting through you. 

He groans against your neck, hips meeting yours in sharp thrusts. Hands reaching behind you, he unhooks your bra and slowly drags it down your arms along with your shirt, tossing it to the side. 

“You’re so beautiful,” He mutters against your soft skin, his right hand cupping your breast, his other hand sliding lower, rubbing circles against your hip. Gently, his right hand needed the flesh firmly, occasionally squeezing. Your nails dig into his bare back, scratching down the rough skin.  

He started rolling your hard nipple between his fingers, your cunt clenching around nothing. Desperate for something, you rut harder against his covered lap, whining in disappointment while he chuckles. 

“You want more, huh?” He asks and you nod desperately. Slowly, his hand lets go of your breast, replaced by his mouth, tongue swirling around your nipple. Warm hands trail down your stomach, playing with the waistband of your leggings before pulling them down completely, panties following soon afterwards. 

“Are you sure you want this?” He asks and you nod. “Words, sweetheart.” Pulling away, his head eyes track the way your cunt clenches around nothing, wetness running down your thighs as he laughs deviously. 

“I want you so bad. Please-” You gasp when his lips land on your left thigh, biting softly as his hands need the flesh roughly. You swallow hard, focusing on the way his mouth gets closer and closer, warm lips kissing up your thigh and towards where you really want him.

The feel of his warm, pointed tongue running up the length of your cunt has your back arching against the sheets, hands reaching out to grip his hair, pulling on the strands desperately as his tongue circles your clit. 

His tongue barely dips inside you before running through your slickened folds, the vibrations of his moans further spurring you on. Soft licks against your slit have your hips bucking up into his face, your head falling back against the pillows as you lose yourself in the pleasure. 

Your mind goes blank at the feeling of a long, veiny finger filling you up, finger pumping into you while he sucks your clit into his mouth. He adds another finger, stretching you out. Warm breath fanning your cunt, he smirks at you, “Merlin you’re hot.” 

You opened your mouth to respond when his fingers curled inside you, eyes snapping shut at the heavenly feeling. Tongue back on your clit, occasionally sucking, you felt your orgasm building up deep inside you, the weight getting heavier when he adds another finger, his moans vibrating through your body. 

You were done for, loud moans filling the room, nails holding him against your cunt, thighs shaking around his shoulders as you reach your climax. He works you through it, nimble fingers dragging your orgasm out. 

His fingers slip out moments later, your cunt clenching around nothing. You open your eyes to the sight of Remus slipping his slick-covered fingers in his mouth, tongue making sure to get every last bit. 

Your hands reach for his pants, hurrying to unzip the denim and pull them down his thighs. “Someone’s need-fuck.” He cuts himself with a groan, head falling against your shoulder as your hands reach into his black boxers, slowly stroking his cock. 

He pulls down his boxers, his hard cock springing free and you have to withhold your moan. He reaches into the bedside table to grab a condom, playing with his cock before rolling the condom on. 

You lay underneath him and watch in wonderment, hands finding their way to your nipples and rolling them between your fingers. “I need you,” You whisper. His hands stop their movements from where they were kneading your thighs, eyes meeting yours. “Yeah?” You nod. “You’ve had me for months now, baby.” 

His mouth is back on yours, tongue tracing your lips as he lowers, one hand by your neck, the other holding your thigh up and against his waist. IMpatinelty, one of your hands move downwards to his cock, lining it up against your soaked entrance. He laughs, “Patience, baby.”

He rubs his tip along your slit before thrusting inside you with a groan, your back arching up, nipples grazing his chest as you moan in pleasure. 

With one more roll of his hips, he’s fully inside you, chest pressed up against your own as he starts trailing deep kisses down your throat. Your hands fly up, nails clawing at his neck, pulling him closer when he starts moving. 

His hips thrust in slow, fluid motions. Reviling in the low groans coming from the man above you. Forcing your eyes to open, you look down to where your bodies connect, cunt clenching around nothing causing Remus to let out a loud moan. 

Nails raking over his skin, you pull him in for a kiss, hot bodies moving in sync as he fucks you deeply. One of your hands trails downwards, towards his stomach and you feel his muscles contract in pleasure. 

Mouth open, you moaned in pleasure when he brought your other leg up to wrap around his waist, his cock even deeper than before. The sight of his eyebrows pulled together, beads of sweat dripping down your neck as you close, head falling back against the pillow, needy whines leaving your lips as one of his hands finds your clit, rubbing it aggressively. 

“You’re such a good girl. Taking my cock so well,” He grunted against your sweaty skin.

You moaned, hips moving faster against his own as you felt your orgasm building up, nails digging into his shoulders. “Your body is perfect. Like it was made for me,” He slurs, hips slamming hard into you, his loud groans mixed with your moans filling the air, toes curling in pleasure. 

“Please, I- gonna cum-” You cut yourself off with a loud moan, his hips thrusting into you with incredible speed as you come, thighs shaking around his waist, breaths coming in short pants. 

His head falls against your shoulder, thrusts becoming sloppy as he pumps into you, greedily chasing his own high, moans growing louder and louder. One hand reaching up and into his hair, you gently pull the sweat-soaked strands, “Cum,” You whisper into his ear. 

“Fuck,” He whispers before coming inside of you, hips abruptly stopping as his mouth falls open against your warm skin. Goosebumps pebble your skin as he gently pulls out of you a moment later, hands rubbing your body as he places kisses against your skin. You can’t control your smile as you watch him dispose of the condom before laying back down beside you on the bed. 

You turn your body to face him, eyes tracing his face. You watch his cheeks flush and can’t withhold a laugh. “What?” He asks, hands running through your hair. 

“You just fucked the living daylights out of me and still blush when I look at you,” You respond teasingly, resting your head against his bare chest. He places a kiss on your forehead, looking at you like you hung the moon. 

“You make me nervous,” He admits truthfully and your heart speeds up.

“You make me nervous, too.” You whisper. 

He looks down, his warm breath fanning your cheek. “Does this mean we can go on a second date?” You laugh, slapping his chest playfully, “Fuck off.”

“I’m going to take that as a yes,” He responds smugly, your heart speeding up at the prospect of going on another date with him. 

“It is a yes.”

Taglist:

@aremuslupinsimp

[robin-the-enby]

Hello ! Could you do an gomez x fem reader x morticia where you meet them when you pick up your sister to school and they get really taken by you and start invinting you to things and you get overwelmed by the affection and tell them they are very nice but a relationship its not what you are after

I never see a reader who doesnt want a romantic relationship, it would be nice to see one who just wants a physical one

Thank you !

It has no appeal

Pairing: Gomez Addams x f!reader x Morticia Addams

Summary: After meeting the infamous Addams family, you can't help but feel drawn to them. But when you notice that the attraction is mutual, you start to worry if you can give them what they are asking for.

Warnings: female reader, queerplatonic (?) relationship, a teensy bit of angst (happy ending tho), use of (Y/N)

A/N: I have successfuly graduated high school and got into university, so I finally have time to write! However, I am still sorry it took me this long to get to this request. I was thinking while writing this and I absolutely love this dynamic, especially maybe the dynamic between the reader's sister and the Addams children, so maybe I'll do something else with this dynamic in the future :) And as an (possibly) aromantic person, I am so delighted to be able to write this piece! I took a spin on the relationship dynamic that might not be exactly in tune with your experience, so be aware of that 😅

Waiting in front of the tall building, you looked at it with melancholy. You used to go to the same building for years and now, much later, you're picking up your younger sister here. It was a strange feeling that reminded you just how fast time flies and you quickly stomped it down before it got out of hand.

You recently found a small flat in your hometown after your last...relationship...ended. You had a thing going on with a really nice person in the city you studied at, but recently they admitted that they were looking for something you simply couldn't give them and so you parted ways. And life went on.

You thought that a change of scenery would do you good and so you moved back in with your parents, just until you could find something for yourself. In exchange, you helped them around the house and ran some errands for them. But one of your favourite "chores" was picking up your younger sister from school. It felt nice, walking the same streets you grew up in and seeing the teachers that used to teach you. And, of course, the quality time spent with your sister was a great bonus.

She was a lively young girl, who in a few years would go to middle school and you remember how big of a deal that was at your age, so there was lots to talk about. You loved gossiping about her classmates and teachers and hearing about the adventures she had with her friends.

One of them stood out to you. His name was Pugsley and he was a year or two younger than your sister. Every recess they spent time together, playing and discussing very important things, which she always told you about and you gave your insight on. You also learned that Pugsley's sister was your sister's classmate. Her name was Wednesday and although your sister didn't have any problem with her, she told you that she was quite strange, and could be quite mean to Pugsley. You thought it was mighty cute, imagining your sister standing up for her friend during recess against his sister, who had the strangest game ideas from what you've heard.

You talked about it with your parents, asking if you should talk to someone, just to ensure everyone's safety, but they only looked at each other and than at you with strange uncertainty. Apparently, the children were the daughter and son of Gomez and Morticia Addams, who moved into town just when you left for uni. You vaguely remember hearing about someone moving in and you'd certainly be more curious about the newcomers if you weren't preparing for a new big chapter of your life that was colledge.

Your parents explained that the Addams family was a strange bunch, with a strange lifestyle and beliefs. But, as odd as they were, they were actually lovely people and completely harmless, although most of the other citizens avoided them, due to their interest in all the dark, gloomy and macabre things. However, they never seemed to mind the ostracism they faced. So you let it go. Your sister continued to be friends with Pugsley and talked Wednesday out of harming him on the school grounds. Most of the time, that is.

Even after you found a place of your own, you continued picking your sister up from school, because it helped your parents, who were very busy even with your help, but you also just really enjoyed it. And that's where you were now, listening quietly to the excited chatter of children around you, walking hand in hand with their parents and telling them about the day they had. You would've pondered more on the strangeness of a child's mind, but somebody crashed into you, trapping you in a tight hug.

You turned your head and ruffled your sister's hair "Hey you. Long time, no see. How was school today?" You greeted her. She looked up at you with a grin "Hi sis! You won't believe what Micah did in art class today!" You smirked "Oh really? Well, what's the tea then?" Your sister mimicked your expression and was about to speak, when her eyes focused on something behind you. Suddenly, her whole face lit up and she raised her hand to wave it enthusiastically. Turning your head to see who your sister was waving at, you saw a young boy who was just reciprocating your sister's gesture. You didn't know most of your sister's friends personally, but seeing the slightly taller girl standing next to him with her arms folded and a slight frown on her face, you had a hunch of who it could be.

You didn't quite hear your sister's confirming exclamation that the boy was, indeed, Pugsley Addams, because your eyes locked with the two people standing proudly behind the two children. The women, presumably Morticia Addams, was tall and slender, with a visage similar to that of a ghoul, pale skin, raven black hair that shone in the sun and black clothes that, in contrast, seemed to swallow all the light that fell upon it. Her lips were painted a deep red colour and her eyes were just as dark as the rest of her, making it impossible to tell their colour. And yet, she had an almost...angelic aura around her. Like the forbidden fruit, looking perfect on the outside, all beautiful and evoking the feeling of security and peace. But, and you couldn't quite explain why, even if you tried, you felt that underneath it all, was a great power, that you almost feared to uncover. Maybe it was the way she was looking at you. There wasn't anything...malicious or hostile in her gaze. Just something...magical. Wise. As if she knew a lot more than you. And you found yourself believing it.

Blinking a few times, you managed to break the intense eye contact with Morticia and looked at her husband, Gomez. He was shorter and quite the contrast to his wife. Where she was calm and collected, he seemed to vibrate with energy, even while standing still. He, too, was looking at you, but in his eyes, was just a spark, as if he was inviting you to come over and talk. He seemed to be enjoying himself so much and yet, he was just picking up his children from school. His appearance and mannerisms were energizing and uplifting.

And suddenly you saw your sister skipping over to the strange family, running straight towards Pugsley. Your eyes widened and you rushed after her. As she threw her arms around Pugsley, blabbering about something excitedly, you placed your hands on her shoulders. Throwing a short, apologetic look towards Mr. and Mrs. Addams, you gently reprimanded your sister "You can't just run off like that, without permission or letting me know at least..."

Your sister looks up at you, a sad, guilty look in her eyes. With a face like that, you can't really stay mad at her. "I know you were excited to see your friend, but you can't just run off like that. If something happened to you, I wouldn't know where you are." you explain to her as you pet her hair softly. She smiles with appreciation before nodding and apologising. You reciprocate her smile before turning your attention to the family that was watching your interaction silently, but with interest.

"I'm sorry for my little sister, she can be excitable around her friends, she doesn't mean to be rude." you excuse your sister, but Mr. Addams just waves his hand "Oh nonsense! We know from Pugsley here that your sister is a good friend of his, and any friend of his is welcom with us anytime." he smiles energetically and you can't deny that his smile is rather attractive. Right after that thought you remember his wife is standing right next to him, but before you can start to feel bad, you notice the warm look on her face as she looks at you, still with that...knowing look on her face.

You smile at Mr. Addams "Well, I'm glad we haven't caused any trouble. I'm (Y/N) by the way. It's nice to meet you...mister Addams, right?" you introduce yourself. Mr. Addams takes your hand, giving it a firm handshake, although you can't help but feel he is holding your hand just a tad longer than is appropriate. "Oh please, drop the formalities. Since our children seem to be good friends, we might as well be too, if you'd like. The name's Gomez."

You wonder briefly if Gomez's wife is as enthusiastic about the proposition as he is, but when you turn your gaze to her, she is already reaching for your hand, holding it gently, but confidently in her own. She gives you a charming smile and when she speaks, it's as if a siren is calling out to you, a helpless sailor on the wide, wide sea "I think my husband is right. My name is Moricia. This is our daughter Wednesday," she gestures to the infamous girl, who is still sporting a very neutral expression, although she seems to be staring straight into your soul, as if assessing you, before giving a slight nod "and this is Pugsley, as you may know." The boy smiles warmly at you, giving you a polite greeting.

"Well, it was very nice to meet you all, but I'm afraid we have to go, otherwise our mother will be worried about what happened to us." you chuckle and smile at the couple. They seem like wonderful people, you can't understand why anyone would have anything against them. "As a mother myself, I can completely understand that." Morticia smiles "And we would not want to keep you any longer. But I was thinking, would you like to come over for a visit? The children will surely have fun together and we would be delighted to get to know you better. We've heard you recently moved back here?" as she says this, she grabs ahold of Gomez's hand as they both smile. You feel the intensity in their gaze, and et there is no pressure that would force you to agree. You look down at your sister, who looks at you with pleading, hopeful eyes and mouths the word "please", before you turn your gaze back to the couple and grin "Yes, that's right. And that sounds amazing!"

You exchange numbers and go your seperate ways. You register, out of the corner of your eye, them getting into a fancy looking, oldfashioned car, apparently with a personal driver. You don't think much of it and continue to walk home with your sister, who was excitedly skipping along the sidewalk, asking about when you were going to call them the entire way.

It didn't take long for the date of the visit to be set. Morticia called the next afternoon and you agreed to come over with your little sister at the end of the week, so that your sister wouldn't have to rush home and prepare for school.

Once the day came, you were actually pretty nervous, although you didn't really understand why. You blamed it on the fact that you're going to a stranger's home and you wanted to make a good impression. Because it definitely wasn't the fact that you were attracted to a married couple. Yeah, as if.

When you the big house the Addams' lived in, you had to say you were impressed. Sure, it was...unorthodox, but it had a strange charm. And when you were invited inside by a rather tall man, who, although his skin was almost gray and his expression somewhat...dead, seemed pretty nice, you almost felt...homey. The atmosphere of the home, paired with the type of people that lived there, was actually cozy. Gomez gave your sister directions to where she can find Pugsley and Wednesday and she promptly ran off, leaving you alone with the couple.

When she was out of sight, the man took your hand delicately and placed a simple kiss on your knuckles. A simple gesture, that was made much more sensual by the way he looked at you from below, his eyes glinting with...admiration, you would say, if it didn't seem so wrong. Still, you smiled politely and tried to think nothing of it. But you made a mental note to stop these kinds of actions if they would appear, thinking of his unfortunate wife.

Morticia was in the living room, sitting by a grand fireplace, reading a book. You didn't recognize it, but when you asked, it was revealed that the book was in French. You felt...uplifited, being in the presence of such stylish and intelligent people, that weren't snobbish, like you've encountered in the past.

They sat you down across from them on a small sofa and asked if you'd like anything to drink, or perhaps to eat. You declined the food, but you couldn't resist a nice drink to complement the lovely afternoon. The pair sat on another sofa across the small, seemingly old conference table, slightly turned towards each other, hands intertwined. But their sight was only on you. Both of them watching you intently, but their faces were gentle and their smiles welcoming. A thought crossed your mind. Maybe Morticia wasn't an unfortunate wife with a philanderer husband. And when Gomez started passionately retelling a story from his quite adventorous past, you couldn't help but let your mind wander. You wanted to listen, you really did, but his passionate movements, his grin, the lively glint in his eyes...And the way Morticia was listening to him, posed and collected as always, but oh so devoted to her husband, body, mind and soul, her gaze so tender...They looked so beautiful. A forbidden fruit that you could never experience the taste of.

"(Y/N), are you alright?"

You snapped out of your thoughts and you saw the pair look at you, their faces showing concern, a little bit of curiosity and perhaps a hint of slight disappointment. You shook your head, trying to ignore the heat in your cheeks. "Oh, yes, I'm fine." you reassured them quickly "I am so sorry, my mind just...slipped. I promise I wanted to pay attention, you have a lovely way of telling stories, Gomez." you said, still not really used to being on first name basis on them in such a short while.

Lucky for you, they seemed to not take it personally. Morticia assured you that sometimes, the mind does what it wants and drifts where the body can't. In no time, you all finished your drinks and as Morticia went to put them in the kitchen, you stood up and offered to wash the dishes in return. She seemed hesitant, but you told her firmly you weren't going to take no for an answer and a smug smile bloomed on her face. When you looked back on it, she must've seen something in that action that drew her to you just as much as you were drawn to her.

You stood in the kitchen, side by side, you with your hands in the sink, scrubbing glasses and the woman of the house next to you, with a dish towel in her hand, drying and putting away different utensils you cleaned. You agreed to do all the dishes, since you were already at it. Once you were done, Morticia did something you didn't expect. Instead of vocalising her gratitude, she leaned towards you, placing one hand on your arm, and pressed a delicate kiss on your cheek. You were left wide eyed at the kitchen sink, the sponge still in your hand. She handed you another towel, and you dried your hands, noticin Gomez, who was stood leaning on the entry to the kitchen, smiling as smugly as his wife. So that's how it is...you thought.

You went to check up on your sister, who was playing a pretty suspicious game with the siblings, but she seemed unhurt and happy, so you let it go, gently reminding her to stay safe and not do anything she doesn't want to. Then yu spent the rest of the afternoon chatting nd getting to know the unsusual pair. You also met the other inhabitants of the house - Gomez's brother, Fester, Lurch, the man who opened the door for you, the grandmother (you didn't know her name, or if she even was related to the family, but she was very sweet) and lastly...Thing. You couldn't deny you were a little put off by a sentient severed hand, but you calmed down when he offered you one of his fingers to shake. Despite the strangeness, they were all so polite and lovely and fun to be around. But, you had to go home in the evening.

After that, your sister started to come over the Addams' household more and more often. And every time, you accompanied her, of course. While her days were spent having all kinds of adventures with Pugsley and Wednesday, yours were spent calmly with the parents. Gardening with Morticia, listening to Gomez and running little rerrands with him or simply reading in the living room, all the while flirting, first subtly, but the more time you spent together the more...serious it was.

You were now sure that there is a mutual attraction going on and that there wasn't anyone who was unaware or not consenting. It felt...nice, for a while. Slowly starting over, getting close to someone again. But you were beginning to feel afraid of what was to come. You tried to enjoy everything while it lasted, before they inevitably approached you with the proposition of becoming more than just friends. You were afraid of hurting them, and yourself, just like last time. But at the same time, you couldn't make yourself pull away from the affection.

It was on a fateful Tuesday night. The Addams' planned a sleepover for your sister, which obviously meant you would come as well. Somehow, you knew this was going to be the fateful night, the moment you were dreading for a long time now. And it seemed that time wasn't on your side either. Time spent with Morticia and Gomez always seemed to fly right past you.

They had prepared a big dinner, that, although it looked questionable, tasted amazing. Paired with a nice drink, you put the children to bed and soon you were relaxing on an elegant sofa, you in the middle, the pair surrounding you from both sides. Your shoulders were touching and even though you knew what was going to happen, that you would maybe never se them again, the places where your skin touched theirs felt electric, sending shivers down your spine.

Of course they took notice. They were both so intune with your emotions and body language, it was amazing and dreadful at the same time. Gomez placed an arm behind your shoulders, Morticia placing her hand softly on your thigh, both rubbing soothing circles.

"(Y/N)..." Morticia started. "Our dear (Y/N)..." murmured Gomez, his head leaning closer to your shoulder. "You know you are an amazing person, dear?" Morticia asked, and you looked at her, not finding words to respond. She must've seen the turmoil in your eyes, because she smiled reassuringly. "I believe you are very smart, our darling." she continued "And that you can see that...we like you." "Oh, I think like is not even close to how we feel about you, corazón." Gomez said, placing a kiss on your shoulder, making you gasp. Morticia sent him a look "Gomez, behave yourself. We need to talk this out first and foremost. And I believe our trésor has something important to say." She looked at you just a intently as always and yet so tenderly, like only Morticia can. Your heart was beating out of your chest, your hands clammy as they clutched at your clothes. You took a deep breath. Now or never.

"Yes, I've noticed you have feelings for me. And everything you've done for me, and my sister, and everything you continue doing, I appreciate it. You don't even know how." you start, wanting them to know you care about them, just..differently. "But, I'm afraid, I cannot give you what you deserve. I'm sorry to tell you that...I'm not interested in a romantical relationship." And the truth was out. There was no return. Yet, you had to continue. "I...I care for you, and your family. You are amazing people and together, you both are so beautiful, it's almost ethereal sometimes..." you chuckle "Whenever you touch me, I feel as if my very soul was on fire. But...romance is not something I can give you." you finish and study their faces intently.

For once, the pair isn't smiling. You almost start to take it as a bad sign, an omen of a near end. But, Morticia looks up from your face to her husband and after some silent conversation between them, they nod at each other, once. Only once and they know exactly what the other wants, what they're thinking. Oh how you admire them, you think, as a small ember of hope still prevails inside your chest.

"Cariño..." Gomez takes your hands in his, stealing your attention. His eyes are soft and his face adorned by a sympathetic smile. "Don't apologise. There is nothing to apologise for. Some things we cannot help. And while you will belong to us, body and soul, we won't ask of you to return anything you don't feel you have. If you'll agree to that, that is." he smiles at you and nods and you actually feel like you might shed a few tears, happiness and relief washing over you and blooming in your chest with such force you think you might burst.

You feel hands on your shoulders and Morticia lays her head on your shoulder "What do you say, notre cœur?" And you laugh. You laugh happily, your eyes glinting. Instead of saying anything, you take your hands from Gomez and turn to Morticia. And cradling her face softly, you seal your answer with her lips. And then Gomez's. And then you seal it again, and again, and again.

[stvharrngton]

a lesson in romantics; lesson one

summary: a multi-part series where reader is the new art teacher at hawkins high and the history teacher, mr. harrington, takes a shine to the new girl. mutual pining ensues on their road to love 🥀

a/n: so here's the first part to the series! i hope you all enjoy <3 it takes place in the early 90s where steve and reader are in their mid-late twenties. disclaimer: i have very limited knowledge on the american school systems or how they work lmao so i'm sorry if it comes across as british-y sometimes but i'll do my best to be as authentic as possible :^) also special shoutout to @inkluvs who originally gave me this idea 1635272 years ago and @onceuponaoneshot who inspired me to actually start writing it hehe

characters: steve harrington x fem!reader, robin buckley

word count: 1.3k

warnings: none, just some introductory stuff, steve being a flirt

taglist: @inkluvs @dukesmebby @sweetbabygirlsworld @kennedy-brooke

SERIES MASTERLIST

HAWKINS, FALL, 1992

September. Fall semester.

A new town. A new school.

Hawkins’ newest resident and Hawkins High newest teacher. You’d spent the last month settling into your new home - a small apartment, nothing extravagant but it was enough for you.

You looked forward to the new start, to get back into the classroom. You loved to teach but the prospect of a new bunch of kids always made you a little nervous.

Making your way into the teacher’s lounge, you quietly said your hello’s to the fellow teachers you had met at orientation a couple days earlier. You silently went about making your morning coffee when a bickering pair burst through the door, a petite girl with a dirty blonde bob who you vaguely recognised as the music teacher and a taller guy, with pretty brown hair and a patterned tie slung around his neck.

You caught his eye as you turned to see the source of the disturbance, a soft but cheeky smile donning his lips. He struggled to keep up whatever conversation he was having with the girl he strolled in with as he finally tore his eyes away from you. 

The blonde followed his eyeline to you, she smirked followed by a roll of her eyes. She swatted your mystery co-worker on the chest, followed by a hushed, “Steve! Are you even listening to me?”

He wasn’t. She knew he wasn’t. But at least your mystery co-worker had a name now. 

Steve. It suited him.

“You’re such a boy.” She groaned, waving him off before going off the mingle with some of the other teachers.

Steve responded with a laugh as he swanned his way over to the kitchenette where you were stood. “First day?” he asked calmly as he grabbed his regular mug from the cupboard above your head.

“Oh, uh, yeah—“ you stammered, caught a little off guard. 

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, “I never even introduced myself. I’m Mr. Harrington. History.” He said with much more candor, holding his hand out for you to shake.

You accepted the hand shake, making a mental note at how much bigger his hand was than yours. “I teach art.” You said, after telling him your own name, “Am I supposed to call you Mr. Harrington, then?”

Any confidence and swagger he was sporting crumbled, his cheeks flushed with a pink tinge, “I’m such an idiot,” he confessed with a chuckle, fingers combing through that pretty brunette hair, “I’m Steve. You can call me Steve.”

“Nice to meet you, Steve.” You grinned, a toothy smile that made Steve’s heart thump in his chest. A smile he would be thinking about for days to come.

“Well, I better get going. Minds of the youth to shape and all that but I’ll see you around, yeah?” Steve said, grabbing his coffee cup as he gestured to the door that led to the school halls. 

“Sure,” you nodded, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, grabbing your own warm flask. You couldn’t help but let your tummy go all fuzzy at Steve’s kindness, a smile creeping its way onto your lips.

“Have a good first day, newbie.” Steve joked with a wink before he called out to his friend as he walked out the door, “Buckley! Are you coming or what?”

~

“You’re crushing on the new art teacher, aren’t you?” Robin blurted out.

Steve cursed his best friend under his breath, thanking whatever God was up there that school was yet to start and the hallways were empty. 

“I’m in my late twenties Robin, I don’t get crushes.” Steve waved her off, “I mean, sure, she’s pretty cute but besides, we’ve only exchanged two sentences.”

“Oh, come on, Harrington!” Robin chortled, hand on her stomach as she bellowed in the hallway, “That has never stopped you before.”

“Now you’re just being ridiculous,” Steve hushed the girl with a roll of his eyes, “anyway, why didn’t you say hi to her? Not very nice of you, Buckley.” 

Steve desperately tried to get the attention off of himself, his free hand perched on his hip as he brought his mug of coffee to his lips. His eyes narrowed at Robin over the rim. Like always though, it never worked. His friend far too persistent for his liking.

“Because, dingus,” her tone exasperated now, “I met her at orientation. You know, the thing you didn’t bother showing up for?”

They arrived at the door to Steve’s classroom which was one block over from Robin’s. He groaned audibly at Robin’s comment, “Come on, Robs! I told you I had a migraine,” he muttered as he fished his keys from his pocket, “you know, years of head trauma takes a toll on the ol’ noggin.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she began to turn on her heel to make her way to her own classroom, “it was your loss anyway, Stevie,” Robin teased, a playful undertone to her voice, “‘cause she looked way cuter the other day.”

Steve scoffed at the younger girl, simply not giving her a response, before he closed his classroom door behind him. He slumped in his desk chair as he wondered to himself how he was going to get through the day without his thoughts trailing to you and your smile.

~

You’d never been so glad to hear the bell ring in your life. You enjoyed your first day, sure, but it was a little overwhelming to say the least. A lot of new faces and names to learn and remember, a thick new syllabus you had to preach to these kids.

A sigh of relief fell from your lips as you gathered your things and locked your classroom door behind you. As you made your way towards the teachers parking lot, you dug through your purse for your car keys as you fell face first into someone’s firm body.

It was like a scene out of a movie. The papers and books that were clutched in your arms went flying across the hallway, your purse and the contents of it spilled all over the floor. A total cliche. 

A string of curses tumbled from your lips as you apologised over and over to whoever it was you bumped into. You both knelt to the ground to gather your things when you finally looked into the eyes of who it was.

A pretty set of brown eyes were staring back at you with a coy smile on the lips of their owner. You could only laugh back at him.

Of course it was Steve. 

“I’m sorry,” you giggled, scooping up the stray papers, “I’m a total klutz.”

“Don’t sweat it,” he reassured you, handing you back what he had gathered of yours, “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Right.” You nodded.

You stood back up, papers and car keys safely in hand now. Steve placed his hand on your shoulder, giving you a light squeeze, “You good?”

Plunging the butterflies in your stomach back down to their depths, you squeaked out a reply, “Yeah, yes. Thank you for not getting mad at me.” 

“You kidding?” Steve asked all shocked, tone light and playful, “Can’t get mad at the new girl on her first day. That wouldn’t be very ‘nice and welcoming co-worker’ of me, would it?”

You giggled as you nodded, eyes darting to the floor, unable to meet Steve’s inviting gaze. You gestured to the nearby door with your car keys in hand, “Well, I better get going.”

“Oh! Right, yeah, of course—“ Steve stuttered, waving you off as you made your way to the door, “Hey! A bunch of us get together at a bar downtown after the first Friday of the semester if you wanna join us?”

“Oh, um,” you pondered, “I guess that could be fun.”

“Great,” Steve spoke, “I’ll get you the address. See you tomorrow?”

You nodded as you felt a blush creep on your cheeks. It wasn’t a date. It was not a date, you knew that, but you couldn’t help but wonder what Mr. Harrington would look like in casual clothes.

“You betcha.”

[ohsohoney]

When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part Nine

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

Note: It’s here! Just figured I’d get it out quick, so I spent ages just writing and then editing! Hope it’s up to par? It’s a long one, again..

Might edit this again when I'm not running on three hours sleep:) x

| Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2

taglist: @thelastemzy

Masterlist

It wasn’t too long after my call with Danny ended that I stepped back through the garden door and into the kitchen, only to find Marshall already there, elbows pressed against the counter as he typed away on his phone. He looked up at the creak of the door and so I smiled in hello, tucking my own phone into my back pocket as I padded on closer, making sure to lock up behind me.

“Danny said his goodbyes and apologised again for his army mates.” I found myself saying with a slight chuckle and watched as Em turned off his phone to set it to the side, pushing up and away from the countertop.

“Was nice to meet him. You speak about him a lot.” Marshall replied with a small smile, the getsure genuine even under the bright lights the kitchen offered. “Kid’s in bed already,” He added with a slight jilt of his chin before his head turned ever so towards the hallway, “You up for another night of tv?”

Grinning, honestly unable to help the action, I widened my eyes and feigned fawning over the very idea, “God, you know how to entertain a woman. Who needs alcohol and a club full of sweaty people when you’ve got Rick Grimes and walkers waiting for you?”

Marshall rolled his eyes in retort, scoffing lightly in amusement, but I did note the uneasy look that crossed his face, even if it only lasted a split second. “Never claimed to be babysittin’ you whilst you’re here. You wanna go out, go ahead.”

It was my turn to gift him an eye roll then, the daft idiot. “And miss the chance of another popcorn fight breaking out? Yeah, I think not.” I said as I waltzed past him, heading straight for the living room we’d invaded the night previous.

I was still searching for the remote when he finally emerged in the doorway behind me, pausing there briefly. It was only once I’d finally caught sight of the stupid thing that he chose to speak up again, “I was bein’ serious, before. You don’t have to stay cooped up here with us.”

The tele had since been turned on, the screen buzzing to life before its loading page flashed up to greet us. My brow furrowed in my stance by the edge of the settee and it stayed even as I turned to spare him a glance from over my shoulder. He looked a little ominous standing there in the shadow of the doorway, the tv being the only thing to shed a small amount of warmth and light into the dark room. 

“Shut up, I was just messing.” I waved off whilst flashing him a wry smile, before I turned back to the tv screen so that I could scroll my way back to the series we’d been watching the night before.

But Marshall didn’t appear to be anymore at peace after hearing the sentiment, his shoulders were tense and his forehead was suddenly littered with slight lines when he decided to bypass me and drop down onto the sofa.

I joined him a couple seconds later, throwing him a wary glance as I clicked on the third episode we’d somehow managed to get to and lowered myself down onto the cushions less than arm's length away.

The show started and for the first ten minutes we sat in a mutual silence, though I couldn’t help but feel as though I’d made a real big misstep with my earlier joke. It was just as the scene shifted again, the library moulding into the prison’s outer fields, that Marshall shifted, using the pillow between us as an excuse to shuffle into a better position, one which left him sitting a whole lot closer than he’d previously been.

My legs had come up to hide beneath me not long after I’d first sat down, so with his new position it just meant that my knees were now almost grazing his own. My eyes flickered between the barely there touch and the tv screen. 

Marshall slumped. Knee pressing further into my own.

I allowed it, wondering if it was purposeful. 

“Sorry.” He murmured after a static moment passed and he didn’t make the effort to move away either. I wondered if that was really what he was apologising for. 

Deciding not to comment on it, I simply shifted so that my head could rest against the back cushion of the couch, leaving my shoulder and side to fall in line with his torso. I felt, more than heard, him look over at me, before his focus was back on the tv screen once more. 

We sat that way for the remainder of that episode, my eyes growing heavier the further in we got. I put it down to the residual lapse in jetlag, but Marshall’s presence and his unusual knack for always being able to radiate body heat like a sodding furnace might have had something to do with it too.

I jerked slightly when I eventually felt my head fall forward, startling myself a tad, and pulled back from the way I’d been just about ready to nod right off. My temple seemed to have caught the curve of Em’s shoulder though on the way down and so I shuffled back a tad to flash him a sleepy smile full of silent apology, to which he merely shook his own head and shifted so that he could offer up his shoulder without words said or questions asked.

My throat grew a little tight at the gesture, never really having had that sort of companionship before, even in the people closest to me, and slowly allowed my chin to droop, almost cautiously as if I was preparing for him to laugh me off. But he didn’t. Simply waited me out, like a person would a stray dog when trying to lure them near.

I must’ve fallen asleep there after a while, which surprised me enough to have me blinking blearily awake again once I’d realised, because the next thing I knew the sofa had shifted and the soft light from the tele had since paused in its stuttering of scenes. 

Sniffing, I attempted to bury myself further into the cushions beneath me, missing the warmth that I’d found there just moments before, but it was then that I heard a light huff of laughter, one which had me rubbing at my eyes only to cast a glance towards it.

Marshall was there, standing over me, one hand on my knee whilst he tried to shake me awake as gently as he could. My gaze caught on the small smile he wore, the same one which appeared to grow when I frowned up at him and then around the room, trying to get a sense for what had happened and where I’d fallen asleep.

A tap to my knee had me looking back at him.

“Missed two episodes.” Marshall mentioned in a low murmur, smirking at the way I wrinkled my nose in turn, “Don’t think I’m rewatchin’ them jus’ ‘cause your ass decided to fall asleep.”

I hummed, still attempting to wrap my head around the fact that I’d just been asleep and was now somewhat awake, whilst simultaneously trying to stay alert enough not to fall back into that blissful state. “Sorry.” I whispered tiredly, barely even aware of the word as it slipped past my lips.

Marshall’s mouth quirked upwards before his head was shaking again, “You’re good, was just kidding.”

I smiled at the thought of him watching the episodes for a third time, just for me, and then giggled a little.

His hand encased my knee again but squeezed gently this time, it was when I looked over at him that I realised I’d let my eyes slip closed again. “Come on, gotta get movin’.”

I dreaded the very thought of moving but knew even in my dreary state that I couldn’t stay curled up on the sofa, so I inhaled quietly and moved to nod my head, taking the hand that wasn’t holding my leg and allowing it to hoist me up.

Marshall was smooth and considerate in the way he helped guide me up, letting me lean into his side as he turned off the tv, leaving only the nearby lamp to light our way out of the living room and into the hallway. I stumbled slightly on the small step that separated the two adjacent rooms but Marshall was there again, arm wrapped tightly around my middle whilst his other hand gripped my own, to keep me steady. 

I blinked a little more at the almost fall, allowing myself to pause and squeeze my eyes shut tight enough that when I opened them again the world was a little less blurred at the edges. “I’m knackered.” I ended up saying, voice carrying in a dull whisper.

Em responded with a light snort, the hand at my hip squeezing a fraction as we started up the staircase. “This gone be a usual thing with you, me carryin’ you to bed?” He wondered, though even in my sleepy state I could tell that the ask was more humorous than anything slightly related to irritation. 

Still, the question reminded me of the night before when he’d also helped aid me up the stairs. The image of his smirking face flashed to the forefront of my mind at the prompt, the way he had waited for me to step beyond my bedroom door before he’d finally allowed himself to walk away. Tomorrow, he’d said whilst my fingers had toyed with the door’s handle.

“No.” I murmured then to his question, sniffing as I slumped further in his hold, wondering over the steps and why he had so many of them. “Normally I’m a night owl. Don’t sleep much.” I added in explanation, the words accompanied by another sleepy smile that had him gazing down at me. 

Marshall hummed but was quiet as we moved up onto the landing, it was only when we reached my door that he shifted ever so to get it open, the handle clunking back up again in his haste to keep me upright against his side. I murmured another quiet apology.

“Stop sayin’ sorry, dummy.”

I snorted at the term, eyes slipping closed again, “Is that meant to be endearing?”

His tut echoed throughout the bedroom and it was then that I realised I was perched on the end of the king size bed. I blinked, but instead of peering around the rest of the room, my eyes caught on him and the way he was now pulling back the sheets, reshuffling the many pillows on the other end. 

My lips rolled against one another before I thought to say something, “Too many.”

Marshall peered back at me from where he was stood leaning over the bed, one knee pressed into the mattress. I wondered briefly if he knew how good he looked then, before he spoke again, brow raised. “What?”

“Pillows.” I muttered, hand flapping lazily over to the mountain.

For a long second he just stayed there, eyes turning towards the top of the bed before they met mine once more. I rubbed at my face to hide an oncoming yawn. He waited another second before pillows started to fly.

Startled by the soft thuds they made when they hit the floor, I watched on as he windled the stack down to a simple two, fluffing them before his head was turning towards me once more. “Good?”

His voice was ever so soft, all kind and gentle like. It made the words I felt like saying get stuck in my throat and a light flush to paint my cheeks, I nodded. 

It was then that he tilted his head in a gesture for me to move, smiling to himself as I rolled over the top of the duvet to settle on the sheeted mattress beneath. I flashed him another tired grin after settling in, wriggling beneath the sheets to get comfy and fight away the cold that had crawled in beside me.

My face seemed to crease after that and I tugged at the duvet to get the bed frame to release its bottom end. Marshall caught on quick enough and pulled it free for me whilst I shuffled out of the trousers I’d yet to take off. He blinked at the sight of the fabric which appeared a moment later, before he snorted to himself and offered to take them, stepping away to fold them up and place them down on the dresser nearby.

“All good?” He asked once again. I glanced back at him from under the cocoon I’d created and took in the softness of his smile, the way his hands were now folded politely behind his back, and how he was simply just waiting for me to answer him, as though he had all the time in the world and wasn’t fighting off sleep himself. 

I nodded, my chin hidden beneath the covers but my returning smile was able to be seen in the slight curve of my cheeks. “Good.” I whispered. Then, feeling a little silly, I added, “Sorry for–”

He waved the end of my sentence off, stepping closer to the bed as he reached out, ready to turn off the bedside lamp. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. Makes me feel useful.” Smirking, his fingers grasped the lamp’s cord but he didn’t move to pull it just yet.

“Still,” I pushed, eyes growing heavier once more now that I was surrounded by the weighted quilt that seemed to be hellbent on capturing all the heat that it could, “Thank you, I don’t usually..”

Marshall’s smirk dimmed ever so into something more thoughtful, “Means a lot that you trust me. Don’t stress about where you fall asleep.”

Trust. Wasn’t that a funny fucking thing.

The lamp was off and he was walking away before I could utter a reply to that, and it was only when the door creaked open a tad bit further to let him have his escape that I let the weight of his words sink in. 

It was a maddening thought to realise that I did trust him. Wholeheartedly. And that was probably the strangest thing.

–

I could not for the life of me have told you where I was, let alone what the time it could have possibly been, when I roused from my coma-like state. 

The first thing I noted was that the curtains had all been closed and the jumper I’d worn last night had since been tossed to the floor alongside a plethora of pillows. It was slow going, pulling myself up and into a sitting position, letting the duvet pool around my hips when I attempted to get my brain to function properly again. 

It was another minute or two before I found the strength to roll over and make a grab for my phone, only to find that it had since been plugged into the outlet by the bedside table to charge. My brow pinched at the sight, not recalling having put it on charge, but still I reached out to grab it. 

The light I was met with had me wincing before I managed to adjust, eyes widening slightly at the time I was shown. Almost eleven. Wow, it was honestly somewhat of an achievement for me, seeing as the bouts of insomnia I often wavered through had me falling asleep far too late and waking far too early. I figured all the flying and the hectic schedule I’d had before landing in Detroit had finally caught up to me.

My mind short circuited at the reminder. Detroit. Marshall.

“Shit.” I hissed, dropping the phone down onto the mattress as I willed myself to get out of bed. 

I tried to remember what had transpired after talking to Danny, how I’d let myself be lulled by the tv and the comfort of the man sat beside me. 

Dragging a hand over my face, I felt a bout of embarrassment flutter through me, feeling oddly caught out at having let someone see me so exposed. My legs dangled over the edge of the bed for a long moment before I finally found the energy to move, pulling my body over towards the bathroom and into the shower before I could regret the decision. Any of them, including both the night befores and the choice to not linger any longer in my pit. 

The shower worked wonders for waking me up that little bit more, pushing the last remnants of sleep from my mind as I stood under its spray. It was then that I found myself feeling thankful again for Marshall and all his odd eccentricities, for him being the overanalyzing type and having had the guest bath stocked with not just the necessities most would need, but the ones he figured I’d like, seeing as the theme was a mix of vanilla and coconut– something I’d mentioned after I’d gotten a delivery of candles a couple weeks prior.

I tried to push the thoughts of how endearing that whole mess was, the fact that he’d gone and remembered, as I stepped out and made quick work of getting ready for the day, forgoing drying my hair so that I could slip into the baggiest jeans I owned and a soft tee that often slipped over the curve of my shoulder. 

The house was oddly quiet when I slipped past the bedroom door and down the steps, once again forcing thoughts of last night out of my head, of his grip, the soft smiles we shared, the–

I took a much needed breath when I reached the bottom, swivelling on my heel to cast a glance about. I knew that Rosie must have already been at school even without me not spotting her bag or shoes by the door, but I was still left with the feeling of longing I often experienced whenever I woke up to find that Lottie had since left. 

Pushing on though, I noted that the house didn’t have that familiar chill I was used to enduring back home. The English weather was a mess of emotions even on summer days where the sun shone brightly, so it was nice not to be shivering my way into the kitchen and over to the kettle. 

It was after doing exactly that though, that I spotted a small post-it stuck to the fridge door.

(Dropped off Z, in the studio if you need me. Eat!  - Em)

Snorting softly at it, I tore the note down and let the corner press into the pad of my forefinger for a second or two. It was nice, having someone care enough to not want me to worry. Even the whole Eat! had me grinning, so used to running on fumes and pure anxiety that I often forgot. It was strange to note that it was a habit he’d picked up on, or perhaps I was just thinking too much into it. Maybe it was just him being personable.

Still, I folded the post-it up and slid it into the back of my phone case all the same. Not stopping to think twice about the why as I looked up at the kettle’s violent whistle.

I moved through my usual morning motions with an ease that shouldn’t have felt effortless in a kitchen that was not mine, but I did, walking to sit at the island not long after I’d procured myself a cup of tea and some toast. 

I took to scrolling through my phone, checking Twitter for updates on friends back home and then moving over to Netflix to see if there were any new series that had dropped and appeared worth watching. 

It was during that time that my phone soon rang. With one glance at the name I was wearing a mad grin and swiping to answer, “Well, isn’t this a surprise!”

A short scoff could be heard from the other side of the line before a familiar lilt trailed through, “And here I thought I was going to be met with love and a plethora of questions about my wellbeing. But no, only your sincerest sarcasm!” Lottie sighed theatrically, as though she wasn’t defeating the entire purpose behind her whole spiel.

“It’s seemingly a familial trait.” I quipped with a fond roll of my eyes, “But I have missed hearing your voice, texts don’t make up for much.”

“And what about my short videos?” Lottie replied with enough emotion behind her voice that I could already guess that she was raising one brow and pursing her lips. “Did they not suffice enough?”

“You mean the three second clips you keep sending me?” I laughed around a sip of tea, thinking back to the latest one I’d received the very same morning, “I don’t think me seeing your knee and hearing a Rihanna song play in the background is the same thing as knowing you’re alright back there.”

“Is too, and there were others!” Lottie immediately defended before a few other voices trailed through, “How about the one of me in Maths, hey?”

My face flattened at the reminder, “You mean the one of you gettin’ your phone taken away by your teacher?”

“Yes! See, all was fine, even Ms Plait reckoned so.” She quipped, the glee which lined her tone was oh so audible. “Did you not see that lovely smile of hers?”

I almost choked on my next chuckle, not having expected the comment, “Oh yeah, I saw. She still looks the same as the last time I saw her, face like a slapped arse and with one too many missing teeth.” Lottie sniggered and once again those voices from earlier followed, “You on your way home?” I wondered, looking down at the time and noting that she should have already left school by now.

“Yeah, just walking with Shan and Tea.” Her answer was followed by a loud hurrah of hellos from the pair that had me smiling.

“Heya girls, hope you’re all alright!” I greeted, listening to them ramble away for a couple of minutes about this and that, throwing me back to the days where the two girls had first come over to visit Lotts. 

Time got away from me a little after that, leaving me with an almost finished but cold brew and the remnants of my toast that I soon got up to throw and wash away whilst Lottie and her mates said their goodbyes so that they could part ways.

“You’re having a good time then?” I found myself asking once Lotts had finished speaking about her school day, “Nothing I should worry about?”

I could practically feel the roll of her eyes as she huffed, “Yes, Lia. Honest. I’ve been keeping you updated, Mila too, whenever she texts– even Danny called yesterday! Did you meet those knobheads he calls friends? The Irish one’s well fit.”

Pursing my lips to keep from smiling, I shook my head at her antics. “I did and need I remind you, you’re fourteen?”

“I was just stating a fact!” Lottie argued, her voice unable to be drowned out even by the car that then passed, “God, you’d think you didn’t know me at all.” She tacked on, her tone teasing enough that I knew she wasn’t too bothered by the fact that she’d been called out. 

“Know you too well.” I rebuked half-heartedly and then smiled at the response I was met with. 

“Too much like you.”

“A shame that,” I snorted as I took back to sitting at the counter, eyes caught on the length of land that stretched out beyond the back door.

“Slander.” Lottie sniped, “But also the truth.”

We shared a chuckle even as I rolled my eyes, which led me onto the next topic of conversation I’d been wanting to bring up since my phone call with Danny in New York, “How’s things working out at Mum’s then?”

A pause followed that question. One that went on a second too long and had my shoulders tensing. 

“Lotts?”

“Hm? Sorry, was just– crossing the road, you know.” 

“Don’t lie. Tell me what’s going on before I hop on a plane and find out for myself.” I threatened, eyes catching on the island countertop as I pressed the phone closer to my ear, as though by doing so it would somehow allow me to be that little bit closer to her. 

“So dramatic,” Lottie joked but it fell flat, what with my impatience and the lack of humour which lined her tone. She sighed, “Dad got out early.”

My whole world seamlessly fell apart at those four words.

I couldn’t form a coherent thought let alone any real words, so it was only Lottie’s voice calling my name that had me blinking back out of my frozen stance and inhaling sharply. “What?”

She coughed, either to clear her throat or to buy herself a little more time, I didn’t know, but couldn’t bring myself to care. “He– well, he’s on parole. Got out about a week ago. Staying with Mum, sort of.”

“Sort of?” I jumped out of the barstool I’d taken up to begin treacherously pacing. For a brief moment I wondered whether it was possible for me to wear away the pattern in Marshall’s kitchen tiles. “What are you on about, Lottie? He’s serving sixteen years.”

A heavy sigh. “Obviously he got out on good behaviour then, served just over fourteen, din’t he?” 

I swallowed thickly, a motion which flipped my stomach and had me threatening to throw up the toast I’d just eaten. “Good fucking behaviour, him?” I scoffed out a laugh that was entirely mirthless, “And she’s just let him back, has she? I thought she was done with him the second he was inside!”

Lottie didn’t say anything to that, or for a while longer. It took me a minute to notice what with how seething I was. 

I forced myself to take a breath, because this wasn’t about me. Then started to think a bit more rationally.

“Look, I’ll look up flights now, yeah? I can be home by tonight, or tomorrow morning if I’m lucky. I don’t know yet. Just have to contact Mila, then talk with Marsh– Shit.”

Marshall, what was I going to tell Marshall? 

“Elia.”

Blinking, my reeling thoughts were immediately stopped by the sound of my sister’s voice, soft but demanding. She waited and I was left to tug a hand through my still damp hair.

“Listen, please don’t come back.”

What?

“What?” I croaked out, the ground having been ripped out from under me.

“It’s working.” Lottie replied, her voice still soft, trying to be kind. “I mean, I’ve stayed with Shan some nights but I’ve been staying at the house too. And it’s– it’s not bad, El. It’s nice even, to get to know him and things. Like at my own pace and whatnot.”

I didn’t know what to say.

“He’s changed apparently. Mum reckons so anyway, it’s what she told me.” Lottie continued on, filling the silence I’d left her with whilst my entire planet shifted, “Not so angry, or sad. Just tryna find a job and stuff, so he can follow the rules of his probation or something. Not sure. Din’t ask too much about it. He’s staying with Mum but he keeps to himself when he’s not trying to make amends and crap. Make up for lost time.”

Staying with Mum. In my fucking house, the very same one I’d paid for. That fucking scummy shitheaded cun– 

I forced myself to breathe. 

“El, it’s working out. I–” Lottie said, then took a second. When she spoke again, she sounded so small, her voice almost pleading, “He’s my Dad, Elia. I just want the chance to know him.”

My hand fell from my hair to cover my mouth, desperate to keep the sob that wanted to escape from being heard down the line. I swallowed it back, gave a shaky exhale, but eventually nodded. Even if it was just to myself. 

“Okay, Lotts.” I heard myself say, somehow. “Okay, yeah. That’s, it’s fair.”

I was rewarded with a big huff of air, one that told me I’d done the right thing, that she was relieved to hear me say that it was all fine. “Thanks, El! Knew you’d understand.”

I didn’t. I don’t, I wanted to say.

“Yeah, ‘course, Lotts. He’s your,” I swallowed again, the walls of my throat itching, hands shaking ever so slightly, “–Dad. If it’s what you want then, yeah. Who am I to stop you?”

Who am I? 

Violent flashes flooded my mind, words, voices. Then I was back in the kitchen again.

“Just, promise me, Lottie. Promise me that anything happens, you call me. You call Mila. You call Dan. Okay? Anyone. Anyone who can get to me. I’ll be there.” I told her in a low murmur, the desperation I felt seeping through but I didn’t take enough note of it to care. This was too important. “Promise me, Lotts.”

I could hear her smile in her next words, “Promise, El. Always. I love you.”

“Yeah, kiddo. I love you, too.”

…

I don’t know how much time passed after the call dropped, leaving me with nothing but the light spatter of rain that knocked against the house. But soon enough I was startled from where I’d been standing by the window in some sort of trance, staring down at the phone I still held in my hand. 

I looked up so fast it almost hurt, but my alarmed look softened when I noticed it was just Marshall stood there, a slight furrow marring the skin between his brows. “Figured I’d come find you.”

My eyes slipped closed as I jilted my chin in reply, taking a much needed breath before casting another glance out across the garden. My mind was stuck on my conversation I’d had with Lottie, on thoughts of home and plans that would ultimately fall through.

A hand encased my elbow. “Yo, you good?” Marshall was still there, having ducked his head a tad to better look into my glossy eyes, that frown more prominent than it had been just moments before.

I stared back at him and felt my lip wobble, before I took another short breath and put on a smile, hoping it was sort of semi-convincing seeing as I nodded in retort. Must have been a tough fucking wish though because he levelled me with an expression that ultimately called out on all my bullshit. 

“You wanna try that again?”

I casted my eyes downwards and chewed on the inside of my cheek, feeling the way his hand inched up my arm before he eventually wrapped me up in his hold, letting me bury my head in the curve of his shoulder. My eyes squeezed tightly shut and even though I didn’t move to hug him back, I sagged into his hold, which must have told him enough to keep the two of us standing there. 

“Who was on the phone?” He queried after a short while, fingers trailing over the small of my back almost subconsciously, but the gesture was enough to soothe the well in my throat and the chaos I had going on inside my mind.

“Lottie.” I answered, voice meek even to my own ears.

His chest moved with each breath he took, legs spread just far enough apart that his feet encased my own, and he smelt so familiar that it made me wonder just how quickly I’d grown to be comforted by it. Was that even normal?

“You need to head back?” He wondered out loud, the parent in him jumping out at the thought of something having happened with my sister, “You can use the jet, I can get Paul on it now.”

It amused me to no end to understand the lengths he’d go to help not just me, but my family too, warmed me completely in fact, but the offer also left me feeling lost. Because even though I would have left the second Lottie asked, I would have been devastated to leave. 

I shook my head where it rested against his shoulder, pressing my forehead to the joint there before I spoke, “No,” I told him, the syllable wavering, “Just– she asked me to stay.”

“Right.” Marshall said quietly, though it felt like he’d forced the word out, “And you don’t want to?” He questioned, trying to understand.

My head shook once more, “It’s complicated.”

His hold tightened by a fraction and we stayed that way for a long second, then two, before he drew back to get a good look at me. “You wanna talk?”

I couldn’t stand to look into his eyes in that moment, far too fearful that I’d just end up crying then and there, so I sniffed instead and glanced off to the side. “Just complicated, I guess.” I muttered, repeating myself whilst trying so very hard not to think about the anxiety I felt over leaving Lottie there, thousands of miles away from me.

“Well, complicated’s my middle fuckin’ name.” Em replied and I couldn’t help it, the stupidness of it made me laugh and I knuckled at his stomach in retort, dropping my eyes. But he stilled my hands, holding them close so that I would finally look up at him, “Mean it.”

I already knew that though.

I peered down at our hands, the way my fists were now pressed against his chest, his bigger than my own and all but swallowing them whole.

“Lottie’s dad.” Is what I found myself saying, eyes locked on the tribal tattoo that encased his wrist. Em nodded gently, the gesture moving his torso as he shifted beneath my hands. 

The muscle of my cheek was all torn up from where I’d been chewing away in my anxious mess, stressing over it all, and so I tried my best to keep from biting at it once more, not wanting to cut too deep. But even so, the notion typically centred me so I was now at a loss for how to process the plethora of thoughts that kept running through my head like a freight train at full speed. 

Marshall seemed to sense this though, because not a second later were his thumbs running over the ridge of my knuckles. I felt my hands slacken a bit in their fisted hold. 

“Well, you know how I mentioned he was inside? That first day I was here.” I finally continued, moving to peer back up at him again, only to find that he was already watching me, the blue of his eyes a shock to the system. I shook my head slightly and took another deep breath, “He got out, parole apparently. For good behaviour,” I scoffed at the very reminder but pushed on, “He’s staying with my mum and so that ultimately means Lottie too. Seeing as I’m not there.”

Marshall had since stilled in his entirety, I wasn’t even sure if he was breathing with how suddenly motionless he went, but then his chin dipped and his thumbs resumed their gentle caress. “And she said not to go back?” He asked, clarifying. 

I shook my head. “She–” I tried to get the words out but had to pause, if only for a second, to actually form them, “She wants to get to know him. Says he’s alright now, that he’s changed.” My eyes rolled on their own accord at that, not believing it for a second, “And well, who would I be to deny her that, hey? I mean, I know how she felt, never knew my dad, but she has a chance, you know? She’d hate me if I took it from her. Even if I know better.”

I slumped when I was finally able to take another much needed breath, inhaling deep enough to dislodge the heaviness that weighed on my chest but not enough to clear it completely.

Em tugged on my wrists lightly and so I peered back at him, aware of the seriousness he had since taken on. “What’s that mean, know better?” He asked and I had to pretend I didn’t reel back from him, like it hadn’t been the first reaction to the reminder that simultaneously crossed my mind. “Hey,” He tugged again, even gentler than he had before but enough to draw back my gaze, “You don’t gotta tell me shit, but,” He paused, eyes flitting between my own, “I’m here, okay?”

Nodding, incapable of doing much else, I said, “I know.”

He gifted the tiny beginnings of a smile sincere enough to have me pressing my nails into the curve of my palms. “Is she safe? With him there.” He clarified and I could only blink up at him, he waited me out.

“I think so. I–” I stuttered, memories hitting me again. I tried to brush them away, but failed. “He wouldn’t hurt her, I know that.”

Just you then. 

The words went unsaid but the look in his eyes told me all I needed to know. His hold lessened until I was able to let my hands drop to my sides. Marshall cleared his throat but I saw the way his hands fisted as he stepped away, “Was gone ask to work in the studio today, but we can just chill instead. Or you can do your own thing.”

I was quick to shake my head, already onboard with the studio idea. “No, studio sounds good. Keep my mind off shit.” I replied, looking down to check my phone and biting my lower lip when no new notifications from Lottie had come through.

“You sure?” Marshall prodded and when I looked over to him it almost appeared as though he was appraising me under a newfound light, behind the carefully guarded fortress that was his gaze. 

Trying not to frown, I nodded again in assurance. “Yeah, just lemme text her again, and maybe Mila, then I’ll be right there.”

He continued to watch me for a second longer and it was only as I was about to say something about it, that he moved. “I’ma grab some drinks. You have a preference?”

Blowing out a breath, I shrugged lightly, “Water, juice, anything really. I don’t mind.”

Marshall seemed to take that as an incentive to grab a majority of the fridge, loading it all up on the counter beside him before he let the door swing close behind him. I raised a brow after having pulled up Mila’s contact and bit back the obvious laugh that wanted to escape when he mimicked the gesture, “What?”

“You good to carry all that?”

He glanced over to the plethora of bottles he’d procured and then back to me, “Two trips.” He declared as he swiped half of the contents into his arms.

I laughed at the picture he made, wondering how easy it was for him to flip my moods entirely. “We don’t need that many!”

“If I could, I’d flip you off right now.” Was the only reply I was given as he wandered out of the kitchen. 

I let go of a sigh as I moved back to glance down at my phone again.

Messages  To: Mila (Master/Manager/Obi-wan?)  Did you know?  About Lottie?

It only took a second before those familiar three dots were littering the bottom of my screen. Though in fairness, her phone was basically her fulltime job.

Messages  Mila (Master/Manager/Obi-wan?)  Everything’s fine. I told her not to worry you.

I couldn’t stop the scowl that overwhelmed my face at her response.

Messages  To: Mila (Master/Manager/Obi-wan?)  You serious? How was that your decision to make mila??

Messages  Mila (Master/Manager/Obi-wan?)  I care about the both of you. It wasn’t a split second decision, it was something I talked to Lottie about at length. She was the one who asked me to wait until I told you.  I didn’t want it to interfere with what we had going on. 

The fury which licked through me at her reply made her words feel too ingenuine. 

Messages  To: Mila (Master/Manager/Obi-wan?)  Still not your fucking choice to make You should have told me You’re my manager, not her mother

Messages  Mila (Master/Manager/Obi-wan?)  Oh is all I am then? A manager? I thought we were closer than that, at least it felt that way when you went and entrusted Lottie to me, when you gave me that trust and asked me not to regret it. This is me trying, El. I didn’t choose to be the person to mediate between you both, that just came with the job. If you don’t like how I dealt with it, then maybe you should rethink having me in your sister's life.

Messages  To: Mila (Master/Manager/Obi-wan?)  Is this your way of guilt tripping me? I just can’t believe you didn’t mention it, not once! You are my manager mila, but I thought you were my friend first and foremost Using me being here as an excuse, with you not wanting to use something like Lottie’s father coming back into her life to intervene with my work? Is just beyond wild. I really can’t believe you didn't tell me

Messages  Mila (Master/Manager/Obi-wan?)  I thought I was doing best by the both of you. Just call me, Elia.  Please?

Messages  To: Mila (Master/Manager/Obi-wan?)  I need some time to think Maybe later

I quickly switched back to my messages with Lottie, inhaling sharply when I saw that she’d replied to my last text. 

Messages  To: Lottiebug 🐞 I love you loads and I wanna be there for you But I know you need to do this on your own I’m just worried Always worry about you, bug, but this is something I really didn't prepare for

Messages  Lottiebug 🐞 I’m sorry I didn’t tell u Just figured it would be easier to wait til u got back Maybe u could meet him then, see how good it is My stomach rolled at the thought of being close to that man again, but I pushed through and didn’t linger on thoughts of me at sixteen. 

Messages  To: Lottiebug 🐞 I can get a flight home anytime If you want me, I’m a phone call away You know that right?

Messages  Lottiebug 🐞 I know but this is something I need to do On my own Like I love u Els, but this is for me to do

She knew where to hit where it hurt, I supposed, as I stared down at the messages that had come through not thirty seconds after my own. 

Messages  To: Lottiebug 🐞 Promise me, Lottie Anything happens, you call me

Messages  Lottiebug 🐞 Nothing will happen but I promise Promise to also call u before bed tonite yh?

I bit down hard on my cheek at the reassurance, which did nothing to reassure me, and felt the first ebb of blood, the way its metallic taste fled over my tongue in a haste to flood its entirety. Silently I cursed myself, but before I knew it my thumbs were flying over my screen again. 

Messages  To: Lottiebug 🐞 Okay Love you, bug x

Messages  Lottiebug 🐞 Love u more weirdo!! Xxxx

I guessed that it would just have to do for now.

A creak had me looking up and to no one’s surprise Marshall had come back for the second half of drinks, so I pocketed my phone after making sure that it was on alert and not the usual silent, then moved to meet him at the counter. “Want help?” 

His eyes narrowed at the offer and he was quick to swipe the lot of them up, “I said two trips.”

Shaking my head, I could do nothing but follow the idiot. Hoping to whoever was out there that the time in the studio would do me some good and allow me to leave thoughts of the past behind. For a while at least. 

–

The studio was just a rather large portion of the lower level of Marshall’s house. It was decked out though, kitted with all the latest works and better than a majority of studios I’d worked in, truthfully. But it also had this homey sort of feel that allowed the music to flow a lot better simply due to the atmosphere that offered a familiar comfort.

“You got it?”

I let the door close slowly behind me, trying not to let its heavy weight cause a slam, before I trailed my way back on over to where Marshall was sat on one of the two black couches. They were leather and sleek, but their obvious expense was muted by the multiple layers of blankets and pillows he had lining them.

I glanced at him and held up the bound book I had in hand, having darted up the stairs to pull it from my case when I realised he wanted to work through lyrics first thing. 

A majority of my thoughts were often jotted down in one notebook or another, but the notes app was a saviour for whenever an idea struck me and my book wasn’t near. I’d brought just the one on this trip, seeing as I’d been using it for the last two years and it was as thick as an actual brick. But back home I had about twelve others littering an old shelf in a room I mostly used for storage. The pleasures of having a house with rooms you didn’t really need, I figured.

Marshall’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of it, wrapped and bound in a thick wire to keep the pages from spilling open. I smirked in turn, wandering closer to slump down in the seat beside him, his laptop and the many pages he already had scattered about.

“You said book, not doorstop.” He mentioned when I turned to him, eyes still caught on the thing. 

I thumped him with it before I placed it down by his laptop. 

“Jesus.” He huffed, hand coming up to rub the arm I’d hit, before he made a reach for it. 

I cringed silently in wait, it was one thing to write in the thing but there were all sorts of odd bits and bobs in that book; from little receipts from dinners that had inspired songs to bottle caps and Polaroids that had written me albums.

“Be careful,” I hurried when his fingers unwound the strap I’d had to superglue twice in the past month alone, “It’s basically–”

“Falling apart?” Marshall finished for me.

I smiled sheepishly in turn, shoulders jutting upwards in a shrug. “Yeah.” 

He huffed a small laugh whilst I thinned my lips to keep from chuckling along with him. 

A normal person wouldn’t have really known where to start with a notebook this size, especially seeing as the pages were both upside down and back to front, having been written in haphazardly over the years and oftentimes stuck back together. But it was also due to the first few pages being all blacked out and slightly torn, an artistic choice I’d claim over the truth of my hatred for the words that had once marked it, as well as the paw prints of a mate’s dog who had won a battle of tug of war with it.

But Marshall had never once claimed to be conventional and so he headed straight for the middle where a large photo had been stuck in, surrounded by a multitude of signatures, drawings and markings. “What’s this?”

At his question, I followed his gaze down to where his fingers toyed with the book, fighting against gravity to keep the remaining pages from spilling over.

“Mostly from people I’ve worked with over the past year or two. Musicians, writers, producers, even got a couple roadies too. But there are some markings from mates– like, see that little picture of a cow, right there? That was my friend Fran, she does tattoos and the like, figured it would be a nice addition. She’s beyond talented though, did this massive mural for me back home.” I paused to look the rest of them over, then reached out to point at a signature floating nearby, “That there is David’s little hello, a smiley face alongside a couple drops of his coffee.”

“As in Bowie?” Marshall asked me, eyes caught and flitting over everything else the page had to offer.

I blew out a small chuckle but nodded, “Yeah, it was just before his 25th album came out. He was proper lovely, only got to talk to him for a few minutes though.”

Marshall hummed and then tapped a finger against a stark green ink that blotted a corner of the page, “This one?”

“Matty Healy. Worked with him on the last release. He just drew a massive knob because he is one.” I replied, thinking back to last time I’d been in London and spotted him and some of the band in a Soho nightclub. “They released their own album a month or so before your last. It’s their first but they’re brilliant.”

He hummed again, so I wasn’t sure as to whether he knew who the fuck I was going on about, but before I could explain a little, Em grabbed my attention once more, gesturing towards the page’s main focus, the picture. “How old were you here?”

I scratched the side of my neck and thought about it, “I wanna say twenty-two? Maybe? Don’t quote me on that though, but yeah, around that age.”

The picture was a cutout from the Camden New Journal at one of my bigger gigs, just after I’d been scouted in the bar I’d been working at. It was a snap of me and the small band I’d worked with once we’d finished our set, the crowd throwing pints up in the air whilst they’d started to crowd the stage. It was a picture I had framed back at the house as well as in a few of my other notebooks. It was something I turned to whenever I felt as though I was failing, or feeling uninspired.

Marshall’s thumb grazed lazily over its corner for a moment before he finally moved to turn the page, eyes instantly taking in the sudden change of pace. This page was scattered; it held a lollipop wrapper in one corner from a song I’d written about well, lollipops and the like, a couple of verses that were upside down and in luminous pink, and then there was another bout of lyrics from a whole different session marked down in dark blue that were written sideways.

“Your mind’s as fucked as mine.”

I snorted at the phrasing but decided to take it as a compliment, “Thanks.”

He shook his head and then started carding his way through the rest of the book, picking out the lyrics he recognised from songs of mine, as well as a few others he liked. It went on like that for a while, the two of us getting consumed in ideas and metaphors, the way we could play with words and shape them into something or other. 

An hour or two had to have passed before Marshall started pulling up different beats he’d been working on, explaining the samples used and the many layers that had been mixed in. I found myself liking a handful of them, even going as far as to start a harmony on one that Em appeared to tally down on a page he had laying out nearby. 

“So, you gone rap then?”

The question, however off-guard it caught me, was one that had me rolling my eyes, “You gonna sing?” I snarked back, my words sounding almost like a dare.

His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip before they quirked up into a smirk, “I can’t sing. You though, you can spit.”

I shook my head and snorted, pulling the lyrics we’d scrounged up closer to me and purposefully not thinking about the notes I had stored away in my phone. 

“Don’t be like that.” Marshall prodded, shifting in his position to nudge me with his elbow, “Jus’ think about it. This could be the time to experiment. You say your label wants something different, something to garner attention on your next record, right? So.. this here, it’s just me and you. No one else. And I’m only gone judge you if you’re really crappy.”

“Oh, and that makes me wanna try so much more!” I enthused, letting my songbook spring back open as I pulled away– the thing honestly had a mind of its own.

Marshall tutted, “Come on.”

I sighed, but did end up looking back over to him. “You’re a dick.”

He raised his eyebrows in retort, then decided to try a new tactic. “Fine, how ‘bout this. You rap something of mine. Then I’ll sing one o’ yours.”

I blinked, unsure if I'd heard him correctly. “You're shitting me.”

Marshall just shook his head, “You in or out?”

My eyes flickered between his, mouth slightly agape. But found I couldn’t turn down the offer. “Alright, but I get to choose what song.”

“For me or you?” 

I flashed him a sly grin, “Both.”

He let go of a long breath but ultimately decided that the term was worth it, “Aight, bet.”

And so that was how I got to start rapping Rabbit Run in the middle of Marshall’s home studio, the beat playing throughout the room whilst the man himself watched on from the couch with a slow growing grin on his face. 

I got so into it that I ended up working my way through the entirety of the song, bouncing away and playing up to the freedom of it just being the two of us.

“Whoo, go on!” Em hollered loudly once the final lyric had come and the beat had ended, kicking his feet against the floor whilst I laughed and shook my head at the reaction. It was in moments like these that I could often forget that he was marginally one of the biggest rappers of our generation. 

When he was like this, all goofy and happy, he was just Em. 

“Good now?” I asked around another chuckle, my nose wrinkling as I moved to sag back into my seat, hating how my cheeks had flushed at being the centre of attention as well as his praise. 

“Good? Girl, you’re rappin’ on this record even if it kills me!” Marshall stated, blowing a breath out around his grin, the one I’d grown accustomed to only seeing in rare and few moments.

“Fuck off.” I huffed, but even with the harsh words I was still smiling, just sheepish in the face of his applause.

“I’m bein’ for real. You got talent. When you’re up there, you just go for it ‘cause it’s fun. It’s all a joke to you, and you like bein’ in on it. But you’re good.” Marshall told me, having turned in his stance so that he could gesture along to his words, only furthering his point. “You don’t even know it.”

I rolled my eyes and tried to look away, wanting to hide the warmth that failed to leave me as I waved off his words with a hand that he then caught with his own, tugging on my arm until I looked back at him. 

“Trust me on this.” 

Just hearing those words, I was instantly reminded of the night before. Means a lot that you trust me.

His eyes were so imploring that I couldn’t cope with it, so I smiled and let his fingers slip from my grasp. “This you trying to back out of our deal, Mathers? ‘Cause if I remember rightly, you still owe me a song.“

Marshall shook his head ever so, but let me get away with the change in subject, moving forward so that he could push himself to his feet. I slid closer to his laptop and headed to YouTube quickly to find an instrumental that someone had made of one of my songs. I looked through them all until I grinned and decided on an older work. 

“Ready?” I asked over the screen. He simply flipped me off in return, so I huffed around a smirk and pressed play, letting the track croon out of the surrounding speakers. 

Good Company was a song I’d written long before I’d gone and gotten signed. It was rough and full of soul, but was easy enough to sing along to if you missed the high runs on the bridge. It juxtaposed the best and worst parts of me, but concentrated on me only ever showing those worse and bitter parts of myself to those I loved most. It wasn’t one the label had liked at first but it grew on you, and though it hadn’t been a chosen single it had actually managed to make it onto the Top Ten when the album had debuted. It was a favourite of mine and to hear Marshall attempt to sing and not butcher it that badly, well, it was sort of like a dream come true.

“Why the fuck do you claim you can’t sing?” I announced the second the song came to a close. Because I honestly had to give it to him, even with the slight laughter he’s started out with, Marshall had truly given it his best. He’d pranced around like a div (which had just told me that he’d seen the music video) and had actually attempted to hit those higher notes that even I sometimes struggled with when playing live.

“‘Cause I can’t.” Marshall scoffed, panting slightly as he fell back onto the couch, fiddling with the rim of his hat whilst he took the spare second to catch his breath. 

“Don’t lie! You can. Bit pitchy at times,” He extended his arm out to swat me at that, yet I still continued on, “But you’re good, Marsh! We should harmonise together.”

He rolled his eyes at the very idea, but kept them shut when he pulled his hands up to rest on his stomach. I smiled at the sight. 

“Hey, don’t fall asleep on me just yet, old man.” I prompted, “We’ve got work to do.”

Marshall’s foot struck out to kick at my ankle, which was deserving, I supposed. Still, I returned the hit with just enough force to get him up and moving again. He sighed in resignation and then reached for the glasses he had laid out, swivelling his hat round so that he could look over the few sheets we’d complied.

Struck at the sight of him in his wired frames and backwards cap, I had to literally tear my eyes away and down onto the paper I was handed before he could catch me looking. He was none the wiser. 

“We’ve got some good shit. But ‘s not enough.” Marshall mentioned after a minute or so of silently debating, his eyes wracking over the sprawled lyrics we’d produced. 

I chewed on my lower lip, phone burning a hole in my back pocket. When he sighed once more, I felt the sudden need to just show him the notes and put the idea out there. 

Heaving out a breath, I forced the device from my jeans to open up my notes app, flicking past the few that were worthless until I came across one I’d been thinking about since we’d first sat down.

Em chose that moment to glance over at me, eyes somehow bluer behind the lens of his glasses. I swallowed and all but shoved the phone towards him. 

He frowned but took it, unable not to, and I watched on in silence as he read it through, then read it though again. His fingers began tapping away on his knee the third time around. 

When he looked back up at me, I was surprised by the sudden change his face held, the way his expression had literally lit up. “The fuck you been holdin’ out on me for?” He practically demanded, voice having kicked up a pitch in his eager haste to try and work this into the mix. 

I was left blinking back at him, watching as he scribbled a plethora of words and letters onto the page we’d been working on, using arrows and lines to showcase his thinking, how he wanted the song to move. To flow. 

I barely had a second to think before he had his own phone out and was dialling away. My eyes widened when the Master of Mixology himself picked up. 

“What do you want, Marshall?”

Any other time I would have cackled at the sheer amount of resignation that greeting held, but it seemed as though I was suddenly tongue tied.

“Why you always think I’m doin’ stupid shit?” Marshall shot back at the man, though from where I was sat I could see the slight curve to his lip. 

“‘Cause I know you? And you usually are.” Dre answered, blunt and to the point. Very much how I’d pictured him. “So why d’you stop to fuck up my afternoon?”

“It’s afternoon already?” Marshall asked, brow furrowing as he shared a look with me.

“Two pm.” Dre told him with a sigh.

“Shit.” Marshall muttered under his breath, gesturing to me with a hand and an almost pleading look, “Set an alarm for when Z gets in, please?”

“Be easier if you did it, Em. Seeing as I’m in New York and you’re in Detroit.” Dre answered, which earned him a scoff from Marshall. 

“Not you.” He told the older man, but I was already on it, swiping out of my notes app so that I could do exactly that.

“The fuck?”

Marshall’s mouth twitched at the disgruntled retort, “With Elia right now, man. We’ve been workin’ on some new shit.”

“El–ee–ah!” Dre called back, really getting into the pronunciation of it. I chuckled softly. “How are you? Is Marshall takin’ good care of you? No troubles, right?”

Grinning, I leaned in closer to Em to be heard. “He’s been a real gent. Holding open doors and basically waiting on me hand and foot.” I teased, earning a side eye from the man himself, “If anything you should be asking him if he’s holding up okay.”

“She got you wrapped round that finger quick!” Dre gruffed out a laugh, the sound loud and joyous even through the phone’s tinny speakers, “It’s what I like to hear.” He added as his laughter ebbed, “Glad things are working out between you both– what’s this about the album then? We got something special?”

Marshall’s tongue darted out over his lip as his eyes flickered over to find me, “I think we hit the jackpot with this one, man. Can already picture it, Dre, like honestly. Shit she’s pulled out has got me feelin’ all nostalgic– it’s good. Too good. Reminds me of some of the stuff they were spittin’ way back before I came around.”

My eyebrows rose a little at his explanation, but I didn’t dare add on or contradict his words. Not that I would, seeing as he was practically spot on with the analysis. 

“No shit?” Dre sounded surprised, but I took it in stride when Em shuffled forward on the couch in his haste to read out some of the stuff we had jotted down, as well as the few lyrics I’d just handed him. 

The man on the other end of the call hummed in thought when Marshall finally wrapped up his whirlwind of a reply, letting the silence linger between us until I was chewing on the insides of my cheeks once more.

“I’ll Facetime you later once you’ve worked on it some more.” Dre eventually said, halting the tic of Em’s knee, a gesture I only took note of once it had stopped. “It’s promising though. Real promising. Figure we got something here with the pair of you.”

The look Marshall shot me at that had my mind turning to sludge.

–

Alarms always had me spooked, the sound so abrupt and alert that even though I was expecting it, I was never truly expecting it. You know?

Marshall and I had continued to work away, floating ideas back and forth with Dre and then without him once the man eventually got called away. It was slow going, but like Dre himself had said, oh so promising.

Never had I felt so listened to during a writing session. Marshall never failed to give me his full attention even when he was scrawling away or counting a tempo, it was as though he was able to just hone in on every notion I brought up, building on it as he nodded away and pointed to the places he figured we could add it in or just blend.

So by the time that alarm finally rang out, it was safe to say we were making a hell of a lot of progress. So much so that Marshall looked torn once we’d both jumped out of our skin at the sound and I’d hurried to silence it. 

His hands fluttered through the many pages we had, as well as my songbook, mouth thinned as his brows dipped together. Rosie would be home in a matter of minutes but he was still spinning with ideas.

I, on the other hand, was all too ready to take a break, head starting to feel heavy with the sheer amount of words it had taken in today. Marshall was a fucking living and breathing thesaurus.

“I can go hang out with her for a bit if you wanna keep on working.” I offered after I’d checked my phone for any recent notifications, noting that the only message I’d received was from Mila. An apology of sorts, letting me know that she’d be willing to wait for me to reach out again.

Em’s frown was palpable. He shook his head, “Can’t ask you to do that.”

I let go of an amused huff, “Good thing you didn’t ask then, I offered.”

His forehead furrowed further whilst he continued to collect the many sheets, I passed him the one I’d been gatekeeping. “Still.” He tried to push, but I just shrugged the word away.

“I could use the break,” I mentioned, reaching for the few empty bottles we’d settled on the floor around our feet, “Might even get a headstart on dinner if you guys aren’t going out.”

Marshall looked a little perplexed at that, “Goin’ out?”

I shrugged again, but smiled when he handed me his latest bottle, piling it into the bin alongside the rest so that I could take it back up the stairs with me. “I don’t know what plans you have!” I laughed lightly.

He ended up rolling his eyes at that, “If I did they’d include you, idiot. Wasn’t plannin’ on goin’ out though.” He retorted, before pausing and glancing over to me, “Why, did you want to?”

Honestly, he was hard work. I could only huff out another round of chuckles as I shook my head at him, “No, you’re all good. Like I said, I could get started on dinner.”

The expression he pulled then looked almost strained, as though he wasn’t used to being offered help, much less willing to accept it. But I could tell that he wanted to. He was on a roll here and it was obvious that he was desperate to keep ahold of that inspiration for as long as it would last.

I stopped with what I was doing to step closer again, hoping to reassure him somewhat. “I wouldn’t offer, if I minded.” I told him gently, “Just pray that I don’t poison the lot of us or burn the house down if I do start cooking though.”

He laughed a little at that, face softening at my words. It still took him another minute or so to finally agree, dipping his head ever so slightly in the most minute version of a nod, “You’ll call out if you need me?”

I raised a brow, “What, into your soundproof studio?”

He breathed out another chuckle, tongue pushing against his teeth as his hands fell limply between his knees, papers shuffling ever so. “Call me, call me. Or just use the intercom.”

“Yeah, not happening.” I quickly quipped, eyeing the so called intercom with obvious distaste, “I’ll call. I don’t know the first thing about how to work that.”

Marshall’s smug smirk was evident when I glanced back over at him, enough so that I could only flip him off as I moved to leave the room, muttering under my breath about being too kind to idiots, something that only proved to humour him further. 

“‘Preciate it!” He called out just before the door could close behind me. 

It had me smiling all the same.

[fanaticsnail]

Hello! I was just wanting to request a request your way for Mihawk (OPLA) with a fellow Warlord please?

Preferably female and chubby (if that's okay!) who uses Polearms/spears and has a kind + warm attitude.

Scenario: Both have to work together under the orders of Garp to track down some pirates who've ganged together to cause havoc and its them having to figure out how to actually work together as a team and not individuals with mutual pining >:)

Song: Tongues and Teeth - The crane wives

Have an awesome day!

Pining 😫. Yes, absolutely. Of all of fanfic writing, pining is my absolutely favourite flavour to divulge in.

The song! I'm ✨obsessed✨. It's really shown me the vibe you want for the piece written.

I can already see the battle sequences of push and pull. I'm imagining she be more scrappy in her style, her joy in battle gleefully falling from her lips as they dance amongst each other in the thralls of combat; Mihawk always remaining steady and calculated with his blade.

Mutual respect for their titles, Ginger Cat x Black Cat/Doberman energy.

Disclaimer: I don't regularly utilise body, skin, eye, hair descriptors other than using terms that are exclusively feminine or masculine to have the "reader" be imagined in a multitude of ways. I am more than happy to make an exception to my rule in this case, but I usually prefer not to for ambiguity.

I have a few other pieces to complete before this one, unless the dice roll otherwise.

In the interim, here is the Masterlist for you to consume should you desire some other Mihawk fics. I'm yet to truly write a one-shot for him (I tried, and now it's an ongoing series).

He makes appearances in:

Dance Series: swing, sway, shag & shimmy (Mihawk x reader x Buggy fic) {Synopsis: a night off was granted by captain Buggy and his pirates. Acrobatic reader impresses both of the men with her dance style. Both men decide they have the ability to potentially play nice as they share the acrobat. (Smut in chapter 4)}

Bar Shift: as a patron of Baratie (Sanji fic) {Synopsis: Sanji and Reader are work husband and work wife. They develop feelings of infatuation as they flirtatiously navigate their way through developing rapport as coworkers and now a relationship.}

The Apprentice: the one-shot that got out of hand because I love talking about wine (Mihawk fic). {Synopsis: bitchy boss and their bratty underling, enemies to lovers. Sword fighting, wine tasting and navigating complex feelings. (nudity mentioned in chapter 2 and 3, chapter 5 smut)}

You Should Be Sad: 3-part series of angst, fluff & smut. {Synopsis: Mihawk ruins his relationship with his former fiancé by not giving her the attention and care she truly longed for. She is a talented musician, performing at Baratie when she sees her ex-lover. Sings her wrath to have him feel something. (Angst in part 1, fluff in part 2, smut in part 3)}

I've also got two fics that are active works in progress upcoming:

El tango du Mihawk: Dance Series. {Synopsis: a talented thief manages to obtain an invite to the marine ball and decides to utilise it as a great opportunity to steal from the wealthiest members of the world government. Mihawk immediately recognises them and decides to toy with their scheming, tango dancing ensues.}

The Marine's Mistake. {Synopsis: something horrible occured to rid the warlord of his signature facial hair. Cadets had gathered and began whispering in hushed tones as Garp held a seated meeting with the warlord at a table in a run of the mill tavern. A new transfer does not recognise the sleek cheeks of the handsome gentlemen and immediately decides to approach to flirtatiously engage him over a drink or two. Mihawk is amused.}

I will add this to the ever growing Mihawk list and aim to complete it shortly! Thank you for your request! ❤️

[red-velvet-0w0]

INTRO POST

Im just a silly little person with an ocean obsession who lives in your phone.

My names are Erin/Eris/Eve/Jess/Red (Erin or Eris is preferred, but I'm fine with any of them)

She/They preferred, but you can call me anything so long as it is NOT he/him (on the same note, if you call me man/dude/bro/guy I will flood your house)

Im a minor (17 years old), and am trans and a Massive Lesbian

If you're a terf, a homophobe, or a pedophile: go away please okay? Otherwise pretty much anybody is welcome here so long as you arent hurting anybody

Im an artist, animator, and a game designer (i have a youtube and an itch.io page but neither of them have much on them) (im uh. not quite as good at finishing projects as i am at starting them)

I have an alt account @red-gamedev-0w0 which is where i post about games im working on.

my DMs, asks, and anons are always open if you wanna be silly, and honestly it really makes my day when i get a message. only rules are no anon hate (if you send me any anon hate i will either just delete the message or mock you, you wont actualy make me feel sad so dont bother) and no being horny (unless we know each other and thats how we interact, or unless you send me a message saying "hey im going to say something that might be horny to you if youre comfortable" as a heads up)

I have a silly little OC universe, please please please please please ask me to infodump to you about them please I am begging you.

I AM VERY STRONGLY AGAINST AI ART. (and just. generative AI in general) (yes that includes chat gpt and character AI)

I am... incredibly normal about the ocean. I have healthy and reasonable emotions I feel when i think about it. dont question why "erins ocean posting" is one of my most used tags its totaly healthy trust me (is it a religious thing? a sexual thing? a gender thing? you will literaly never know)

The fandoms im in are: Aurora Webcomic, The Mechanisms, Life Series, Hermitcraft, Mineraft, Terraria, Hollow Knight, Celeste, Hades, Camp Here And There, Murder Drones, The Magnus Podcasts, Epic the Musical, Hello From the Hallowoods, Witherburn After School News, Dont Hug Me Im Scared, The Locked Tomb, Hatchetfield, Centaurworld, Amphibia, Epithet Erased, Kid Vampire, and Bigtop Burger (+ a few more but those are the ones you'll see the most of)

#1 Killers fan (their best album is Sams Town and the best song is Bones and thats a fact)

I really, really hate Dantes Inferno and the Sierpinski triangle

Id love to be friends, enemies, or really anything in between if you let me.

Tags I use (in case you want to block them):

#erins cryptic ramblings (generic tag)

#erins ocean posting (for ocean related posts)

#axe and erins dnd bullshit (for when im talking about dnd with one of my mutuals)

#the forever day (my OCs)

#erin answers asks (self explanitory)

#erin talks about life /#erin complains about life (also self explanitory)

#erins tumblr ad saga (my compilation of all the worst ads this hellsite has to offer)

#erins coding adventures (for whenever im posting about making a game)

And that’s about it!

Nice to meet you!

[standatsvthoughts]

HEY MUTUALLLL😋

CAN I REQ A E42 MILES FIC WHERE THE READER LIKE CAME TO VISIONS AS A NEW GIRL IN THE MIDDLE OF THE YEAR AND THEY BECAME LIKE BEST FRIENDS BUT THEN THEY BECOME THE BORDERLINE OF BEST FRIENDS OR DATING??!!! (they end up dating duhhh)

i need it bc this is the trope i have for my oc🙏🏽🙏🏽 and I also just think its super cute 🫶🏽

HI MUTUAL! And of course you can!

I hope this will be to your liking and what you pictured :))))

Pairing: 42!Miles Morales x fem!Reader

Content: fluff, slight angst, overall nice feelings (somewhat) enemies to friends to lovers, second person POV, angst if you squint

Warnings: bullying, Miles is a dick to begin, autistic coded character because I’m autistic so shh, school (yes school is a warning), implied shorter then Miles reader, cursing, slight violence (Miles punches a guy, pushing, no blood), protective Miles, slight mutual pining, kissing

Not proofread or edited! I repeat, not proofread or edited!

Story Below the cut ⬇️

Your POV

Moving in the middle of the year will never be a fun thing. Especially if you’re enrolled into a new school in the middle of the year. Which you just so happen to be.

It’s not like you chose this. No, that was all your parents decision. So now, here you were, suffering the consequences of their decision by being subjected to a new wave of bullies, annoying teenagers and mindlessly learning.

That’s what for you here, walking through the new hallways of your new school, keeping tightly to yourself as you pushed through the people, doing your best to keep to yourself and not touch anyone.

But their piercing stares are hard to ignore as people whisper and gossip about the new girl. Which now happened to be you. They’ve probably already created thousands of rumours about you, if you know teenagers.

You walk into the office and see the secretary talking with another student. He had dark brown hair that was braided back into two French braids and was wearing a dark purple hoodie with black pants. He seemed less then pleased to be there. The secretary noticed you enter and gave you a friendly smile.

“Oh hello Miss. L/N! Glad you were able to find your way here. Welcome to our humble school,” she greeted you with an overwhelmingly positive attitude. It made you wonder if she was new because no regular secretary would be this happy with dealing with teenagers every day for eight hours.

You wave awkwardly, glancing back at the boy who was also there. He had a scowl on his sharp features and didn’t seem happy to meet you like the secretary was.

“This is Mr. Morales. He had happily volunteered to help show you around the school for your first day so you don’t get lost,” the secretary laughs. Looking back at this ‘Morales’ guy, he clearly didn’t volunteer and he definitely didn’t do it happily.

“Have a good first day Miss. L/N!” She gives you and the boy a small little push towards the door as the first bell rings, signalling the day beginning and you can see students begin to clear the hallways.

You follow as the boy walks quickly out of the office and you have to jog a couple steps to keep up with his long strides.

“Thanks for showing me around. I’m-“ you start to introduce yourself, thanking him once he stops to wait for you but he cuts you off.

“I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this because I have to. So don’t talk and let’s just get this over with,” he says, his tone is cold and snappy as he scowls down at you. You falter, huffing in annoyance.

‘Off to a great start Y/N’ you think to yourself bitterly. You’ve been here less then five minutes and someone already hates you. Great. Just great.

“Can I at least know your name. Unless you want me to call you ‘Mr Morales’,” you say back, not sparing to be nice to someone who isn’t nice to you and give him a hard look back. He huffs, clearly annoyed by you.

“Miles,” he answers shortly, not caring that he’s coming off rude and begins walking again. It’s almost like a workout with keeping up with him.

He shows you through the school with very little words, only saying the names of the places before ending off at your first class.

“There. Now don’t talk to me again. If you have questions, go bother someone else,” he says and walks off, leaving you in the middle of the hallway alone.

“Well this day is absolute shit and it’s barely just begun,” you mutter to yourself in annoyance and confusion. It was all so overwhelming and there was nothing you could do about it.

Begrudgingly, you head into your first class, awaiting the judgement, confusion and more overwhelming situations that are likely to come.

- - - Time Skip - - -

It had been a week since you started at the new school in your new town and safe to say, it has been complete shit.

The main bully’s of the school had a field day with having a new victim to pick on. They would laugh at your attempts to defend yourself, which only made it worse.

You had barely seen Miles since your first interaction with him, and you were fine with that. He had been a bit of an asshole to you so it’s not like you were dying to see him again.

Every time you tried to approach him, he glared and walked off without another word to you. It was clear he didn’t want to be friends with you, and you were fine with that. At least that’s what you tried to convince yourself.

However, your week become even worse when you got cornered after school one day by the people who had been tormenting you. And there wasn’t a single person in sight. Just your luck.

They were teasing you, ridiculing you and belittling you, but you weren’t listening. You weren’t saying anything. Just staring ahead, not looking at them. That is, until one of them pushed you.

“I’m talking to you! Listen to me when I talk to you new girl!” One of the older jocks demanded as he pushed you into the lockers. You groaned but refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you weak.

“Answer me!” He yells again, pushing you again and you tried to fight back. The jock was ready to hit you when a voice interrupted.

“Hey!” A familiar voice calls. You turn your head and see none other then Miles Morales standing there in all his intimidating glory.

“Leave her alone,” Miles demands, pushing the jock away from you and standing in front of you.

“Oh, what’s this. Emo Morales talking. Never though I’d see the day,” the jock teases Miles who just glares at him.

“I said, leave,” Miles demands again and the jock laughs.

“And why should I? What are you going to do?” The jock laughs and you glare at him from behind Miles. Miles looks down for a second, giving the jock a false sense of security and he goes to talk again, but is swiftly cut off by Miles punching him in the jaw.

“That’s what I’m going to do,” he remarks with a smirk. You stifle a laugh at how shocked the jock and his friends looked. It was amusing to you.

The jock slowly looks up with anger and Miles’s eyes widen. “Shit,” he mutters and grabs your hand quickly, running away from you before the jock can get any hits in.

“Yeah you better run Morales! You coward!” The jock yells back and you can’t hold back your laughter anymore as you and Miles hide in an empty classroom.

You both look at each other before both of you burst out in laughter.

“Did you see the look on his face? That was priceless!” You say through laughing.

“I know!” Miles agrees through his own laughter. It’s a moment or two before you finally calm down, still having a wide smile on your faces.

“Thanks for that,” you thank once you stop laughing.

“Don’t mention it,” Miles brushes off. Another moment of silence passes.

“Let’s start over, shall we. Just ignore everything that happened this past week,” you suggest and hold out your hand to him. “I’m Y/N L/N,” you introduce yourself.

“Miles Morales,” he says after a beat, shaking your hand firmly in his. His hands were rough and calloused, yet had a feel of gentleness to them at the same time.

“Sorry for being so mean. I’m not good with people, especially new people,” Miles admits sheepishly, pulling his hand back and rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“It’s fine. I get that. I’m not the best with people either,” you assure and he gives you a small smile.

“So… friends?” Miles asks hesitantly and you nod.

“Friends.” You agree with a smile.

That’s how you created your best friend in this town. The one thing that actually went well during your first few months in the town. And possible your crush. Ok, maybe more then possibly, but it’s not like you could ever tell him. You couldn’t ruin the one friendship you had.

“You going to prom?” Miles asked one day after school near the end of the school year. You had been at the school for a few months now and the thrill of having a new kid died down and now you were just a regular student.

“I don’t know. No one’s asked me. And loud dances aren’t exactly my idea of fun,” you answer back. He nods.

“If someone… were to ask you… would you say yes?” He asks slowly. It makes you wonder what he could possibly be planning.

“That depends who it is,” you shrug.

“Do you like someone?” He asks quietly. You look over at him as you answer, your kind filled with thoughts of just him.

“Yeah… yeah I do,” you answer. Miles looks up at you and you can see a bit of a blush on his cheeks as he looks back down. He clears his throat, looking back up and smiling with his so called ‘rizz’ he likes to tease you with.

You giggle at how silly he looks when he makes that face. To any one else, it would have been intimidating, but to you, it was more funny then scary.

“Y/N…” he says your name and you nod, mimicking his tone.

“Miles…” you repeat but with his name.

“Would you go to prom with me?” He asks hopeful and you feel your heart skip a beat. You glance between him and his lips with a smile.

“I would love to go to prom with you,” you answer happily. He leans forward and gives you a small peck on the lips, just a small one to gauge your reaction, hoping he isn’t ruining something.

You smile and lean forward, connecting your lips to his in a longer kiss. You’ve waited for a while to do that.

He pulls back. You both didn’t need to say anything. Your feelings for each other were clear. Through your longing, loving looks to each other, it said more then your words ever would.

“So… dating?” He asks and you laugh, giving him a quick kiss.

“Dating,” you agree. You’ve never been happier.

Finished :)

Hope you enjoyed this and hope it was to your liking!

Feel free to send as may requests as you want!

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

~*~

1. Hi! I’m looking for a fic I read on AO3, I don’t remember anything really more than that there was some kind of big entity in a town which noone but Wei Ying could see? The other character’s would be like ”nothing is wrong with this town :-)”. Thankful for help! Have a nice day and thank you for your work <3

#1, can u ask the requestor is Wei ying lived at the edge of the woods/forest ??

FOUND! Not What We May Be by brooklinegirl (E, 29k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Mutual Pining, Bedsharing, casefic, Hurt/Comfort) though its not only wwx who sees it. Great fic.

~*~

2. Hello! I'm trying to find a fic where LWJ was cursed/blessed by his mom with a truth spell for LWJ's safety? It's not really the typical, your average "I speak the truth" one, but it's how LWJ can hear lies in the form of sounds that only he can hear! If i remember correctly, LXC knows about it and asked NMJ (blunt truths) and NHS (white lies) to help him control it. There's also scenes where he's stumped because WWX almost always speak the truth (thus making no lie detector sound for LWJ — which boggles him so much because no one always speak the whole truths even in CR — except the couple of times when he was speaking about his time in Lotus Pier). Thank you! (I'm pretty sure this is a fic by @i-like-plan-m but I can't remember the name rn 😅 - Mod C)

FOUND! in the shadow of moonlit flowers by Reverie (cl410) (T, 48k, wangxian, LXC/NMJ, cloud recesses, NHS & LWJ friendship, developing relationship, LWJ pov, minor injuries, autistic LWJ, implied/referenced child abuse, aka YZY warning, genius WWX, light angst, hurt/comfort, WWX protection squad, WIP) this one perhaps?

~*~

3. hi i’ve been looking for a fic that i read a while ago but can’t remember what it’s called. Basically WWX is hired by LWJ for company/sex and he’s kinda like a sugar baby and stays at his house a lot. LWJ is a rich lan and both end up having feelings for eachother but bc LWJ started basically as WWXs client of sorts there’s some confusion. I remember at one point WWX gets sick and lets LWJ come to his house which he usually wouldn’t do with past clients and LWJ helps him shower and there’s a line where he talks abt the intimacy of letting LWJ wash his crotch (pretty sure he lives w wen qing) Then i think LWJ takes WWX to like new york or something on a work trip

these were the only things i could remember lol @st3wartladle​

FOUND? The Sugar Daddy AU Series by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 106k, wangxian, modern, sugar daddy, sex work, dom/sub, aftercare, semi-public sex, exhibitionism, bondage, boundary setting, relationship negotiation) specifically the first part A Sure Thing

~*~

4. Hi! For the fic finder, two fics I enjoyed but apparently failed to bookmark, and now cannot find back...

A) Complete, medium length: Lan Zhan steps into the path of Wen Zhuliu coming for Wei Ying, loses his golden core. Afterwards, he tells no one but goes into seclusion. WWX is fine, and eventually comes to visit in Gusu. LWJ is reclusive as he is not a cultivator anymore (so he grows old faster than WWX), but they still build a connection. No solution for the golden core, just dealing with the new facts of life for LWJ, and building back some hope.

B) Similar in vibes, also complete: WWX travels to an alternative universe, where JC died and WWX is somehow the Jiang Sect Leader. He meets LWJ at a conference. The new universes' WWX was not friends with LWJ. LWJ's leg was still broken after the Wen Indoctrination and never healed, so LWJ is wheelchair bound (pushed by Jingyi). WWX builds up a friendship with LWJ but I think in the end he goes back to his own universe. This one sounds like that one fic where the theme was something like 'be careful what you wish for', iirc WWX wanted to see either his parents or JYL alive 🤔 ~Mod L

Any help would be much appreciated! As well as any other dimension travel recs anyone has. Thanks again for this wonderful blog! @vasterthanempires

I found 4A myself! It was love some littler things by shipyrds

4B remains elusive, although the comments so far seem to refer to the same fic. still looking for it!

4A)

FOUND! love some littler things by shipyrds (G, 17k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Angst, LWJ Loses His Golden Core, Canon Divergence, No Golden Core Transfer, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst with a Hopeful Ending, Disability)

4B I have read but also cannot recall! Additional details, it was an alternate dimension talisman WWX created, and when he leaves any changes he might have cause are erased but somehow wheelchair!LZ starts an actual friendship with local!WWX? not sure if it was a bonus chapter or an endnote but I recall I was happy that it was a hair ending for both sets...

4B)

FOUND? empty as the sky by incendir (T, 23k, wangxian, JYL & WWX, CSSR & WWX, be careful what you wish for)

~*~

5. Howdy fine folks of the internet! I'm looking for a Twitter thread fic that disappeared from my bookmarks during some twitter turmoil, if any of yall can help. It was a modern au where wwx got kicked out of the Jiang home and stayed in a shed on school property while using the school showers and eating leftovers from the cafeteria overnight, until lqr, lxc, and nmj catch him. It had some really great depictions of panic attacks and I want back. Thanks

FOUND! Where is home? by SpicyRamen_10969 (M, 16k, wangxian, modern, high school au, implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced homophobia, coming out, not Jiang family friendly, supportive LQR, good sibling LXC, fluff, angst w happy ending, WIP)

~*~

6. Hi, I'm looking for a fic where lan xichen had harsh realization of his wrong doing by supporting jin guangyao. (If this is actually an Itmf let me know and I will move it - Mod C)

~*~

7. Hi, I've been trying to find this wangxian fic so badly. Like canon divergence lan xichen notices that wei ying likes lan zhan during cloud reases arc and starts convincing his teachers to change their style for him and his ADHD Genius and teach him about his own self worth so as to steal him away from Jiang sect. Like Jiang chan has an argument where Wei Ying finally stands up to him and it's so good. Think its ABO, dont remember. Please help

FOUND? might be 💖 Hoards and treasures by apathyinreverie (T, 21k, WangXian, Siblings, Family, not particularly Jiang friendly, YZY Bashing, slightly darker Gusu Lans, LXC being the best brother, Some manipulation, But with the best of intentions, and not between wangxian, Dragon LWJ, Fox WWX, Smitten LWJ, Fluff, perfect happiness, adorable WWX, Romance, Some worldbuilding, courting) although it's FoxWWX and DragonLans not A/B/O

~*~

8. Hello <3 I'm looking for a modern AU fic where Lan Wangji contracts Mo Xuanyu as a companion for the night but mistakes him for Wei Wuxian in the hotel they would meet up. So they spend the whole night together and the chemistry is off the charts until Mo Xuanyu sends him a message later (or in the morning after, I can't exactly remember) saying that he never showed up. Lan Wangji tells Wei Wuxian about the misunderstanding and Wei Ying, who was thrilled with his attention, gets pretty hurt and they end things pretty tense. I remember that it's the anniversary of the passing of his mother or her anniversary, and Lan Wangji didn't want to spend it alone. After he explains that to Wei Ying, they try giving their date another chance. That's all I remember for sure that happens, I hope these details are enough!

FOUND! Many happy returns. by orange_crushed (E, 25k, WangXian, Modern AU, Mistaken Identity, Misunderstandings, Grief/Mourning, Loss of Parent(s), Implied/Referenced Suicide, Past Suicide of a Parent, References to Depression, Anxiety, Therapy, References to Anti-Depressant Medications, Escort Service, Loneliness, Everybody’s Abandonment Issues, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Moving In Together, Oral Sex, Penetrative Sex, Hopeful Ending, Recovery, References to Escorting/Sex Work but No Actual Escorting/Sex Work)  

~*~

9. I need help on finding a fic. It's about how wei wuxian created his own sect from a past syndicate movements, he transformed it into a merchant/shops/silk road or something similar. He never went with the jiangs or any sects. When he was still on the streets he got betrayed by an "esteemed" cultivator because of false accusations (vendor told the cultivator that he caught wei wuxian stealing from him, but in actuality wei wuxian was at the wrong place at the wrong time), it was another kid that stole a toy from a merchant, if I'm not wrong. He was also a part of an illegal underground fights where he "won the bet" against the strongest fighter. He's also claimed by wen qing to be the killer of a murder because the only one who knows around needles is herself, and she met wei wuxian and taught him the arts of needles. There's also a wei wuxian - xue yang connection by said syndicate because the chang sect was a part of it.

~*~

10. hi! i was wondering if you could help me find this one fanfic that i can't for the love of me remember at all!!!

the details are a bit hazy, but basically burial mounds era something happens that fucks up wei wuxian mentally and physically and he starts dreaming about things in the future,,,, meanwhile the whole jianghu is plunged into chaos with disasters and that one specific bird thing.

i think there was one time wei wuxian did a "no shit serlock!" joke but then said "oh wait, wrong timeline."

FOUND? To Ride A Stygian Tiger by Madyamisam (M, 93k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time travel, Angst with a happy ending, BAMF WWX, Dark LWJ, Slow burn, Family Feels, Misunderstandings)

~*~

11. hwoooooo! :D back at it again with the asks, thank you so much for your services to the community!

im looking for a time travel fic for my bff!

it's in Lwj's pov in which he dreams about an older version of him, who tells him to treat wei ying kindly, and how the future lwj's world is completely frozen as a result of his sacrifice in order to safe a different timeline.

Future Lwj gets a happy ending in the last chapter!

FOUND? 💖 Looking at You Always, All Ways by Keysmashed T, 29k, wangxian, time travel fix-it, fluff, nostalgia, mild angst w/ happy ending)

~*~

12. hi! i'm looking for a fic where there was quarantine and wangxian went to stay at the family house (it was so big like a mansion or an apartment i don't really remember).

remember a scene where jingyi was having a panic attack (?) and wei ying came to calm him down. they were at the balcony. i think they were adopting jingyi.

i don't know if it is finished or deleted.

~*~

13. hello!! i hope y’all are doing well ☺️ the fic I’m looking for was definitely on ao3 but idk if it got deleted or I just can’t find it again but here’s what I remember

1) Wei wuxian died taking the arrows to save jin zixuan’s life. Initially people celebrated until the (sentient) burial mounds retaliated and destroyed most of the jin sect and people started panicking and trying to bring back wwx (jin zixuan, jin ling, and Jiang yanli all live)

2) parts of Wei wuxian’s diary was scattered amongst the cultivation world and Jin ling buys the pages and develops a sort of parasocial relationship w his dead uncle who he idolizes based on the image he creates of him thru wwx’s writing

3) i think one of the latest updates (it wasn’t finished when I read it) is wwx coming back as Mo xuanyu and running into jin ling and jiang cheng who recognize him.

Im pretty sure the wens are alive as well (not 100% tho). If this rings any bells please let me know - I’ve seriously looked for this for a solid couple of weeks and I loved it a lot 😭 thank you!! 💓

FOUND? To Be Named by Suibian_613 (T, 18k, WIP, WangXian, XuanLi, Canon Divergence, WQ is out of character, Everyone is probably ooc, canonical violence, Canonical Character Death, Somewhat Sentient Burial Mounds)

FOUND? I shall pay for all your sorrows by MidnightLightHowlite (G, 3k, JZX & WWX, XuanLi, angst with bitter ending)

~*~

14. A fanfic where Wei Wuxian is found by Lan Qiren as he saves him from something and then faints. It’s a modern AU, Lan Qiren takes him to the hospital and later they learn that he has fits and he becomes a teacher at the school. Lan Zhan and he marries later on and adopts Wen Yuan from an orphanage run by Wen Qing and Wen Ning. @hebbbb

FOUND? Against Entropy by Duochanfan (M, 40k, WangXian, NieLan, Modern AU, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, of an underaged character, Amnesia, Drama, Romance, Family Feels, Hurt WWX, Older JC, Homelessness, Angst with a Happy Ending, Protective LWJ, Protective LXC, Supportive LXC, Protective NMJ, Supportive LQR)

~*~

15. Hi I want to ask is there a wangxian fanfiction where lan zhan is a prince and wei wuxian is a huli jing and becomes his consort by forced marriage but instead wei ying is against this loveless marriage and so everytime they sleep it's always hate s£× until he gets preg and gives birth to a yuan and tries his best to give him love until he dies protecting a yuan from a wen attack and that day he realises wangji actually loved him dies and gets reincarnated and tries to fix things @random-online-reader

~*~

16. Hi there! I am looking for a fic that takes place during the war against the wens and mo xuanyu does the self sacrifice to summon wwx who is thought to project himself as his original form, but (SPOILERS) he is immortal and lwj is the reincarnation of his lover. Baoshan Sanren also makes an appearance after the last stand against wen ruohan

FOUND? Old Foreshadows by protos_metazu_ison (M, 15k, WangXian, YLLZ WWX, BAMF WWX, War, Universe Alteration, Sunshot Campaign, Rated For Violence, Timeline What Timeline)

~*~

17. Hello, can you help me find a fic?

Generally, all I remember was that WWX went back to the past (Studying at GusuLan Arc) after dying during the Burial Mound Siege. He was so traumatized over it that he has decided he does not want anything to do with the cultivation world anymore. His personality changed (from cheerful to downright depressed, from lively to soulless) so much that everyone began to notice and wondered what was up.

However, I remember a scene which pushed him to flee Gusu. He was walking and listening as NHS talked and talked trying to get him back to his old personality. They met NMJ on the way. WWX on pilot mode said that he (NMJ) has heart demons and without ado removed the resentful energy lingering inside NMJ. This shocked the Nie brothers, the Twin jades and JC (the latter two having just arrived and witnessed WWX manipulating resentful energy).

WWX obviously panicked, packed his belongings and flees from GusuLan because he thought they would kill him again due to his manipulation of resentful energy.

Please help me find this fic. I've been searching the web for weeks. Sadly, my browser history was disabled at that time and I don't remember the title. @heratheslytherinqueen

FOUND? Possible Works 2 - Numb by Hauntcats (M, 6k, wangxian, angst w happy ending, unhappy WWX, time travel fix-it)

FOUND? Without end by barisan (M, 70k, wangxian, major character death, time travel, suicide attempt, hurt/comfort, depressed WWX, protective LWJ, good uncle LQR, bad parents JFM & YZY, not YZY & JFM & Jiang friendly, implied/referenced child abuse & self harm, BAMF WWX, WIP)

~*~

18. So there was this fic in which wei wuxian modified nei huaisang's fan or something like that so it can be used as a weapon while in CR and also at some point nmj wrote a letter thanking him and asking him what he would like as payment but wwx replied that it was a gift for a friend

I don't think this was a major plot point of the story though. Thanks

FOUND? Eyes Wide Shut by Netrixie (T, 65k, LXC/NMJ, wangxian, canon divergence, no sunshot, everyone lives au, enemies to friends to lovers, identity porn, mistaken identity, misunderstanding, slow burn) when I read that I immediately thought of this fic just bc it sounds so similar, but it's lxc that gives nhs the fan, and nmj gets mad at lxc for it. and also it's nielan. maybe this is what you're looking for?

~*~

19. Hi again! I'm in need of help for finding a fic that I forgot to bookmark AGAIN🥹

How i remember it, It's how WWX died and get "resurrected" as a ghost thing by another character (could be Hua Cheng, could be Luo Binghe idk they definitely wore robes with the color red and black lol). So WWX started chatting with his "savior" and they told him that he can grow powerful by eating other demons in the BM(?) But as he grew powerful, he also shapeshifted as a white tiger for a while because he needs to hunt to maintain his human form, and by doing so he needs a lot of demon meat so he needs to catch food with his tiger form a lot (I'm kinda confusing myself if WWX started as a tiger from beginning or not, but it definitely involves him as a ghost/tiger!)

Other details that I kinda remember: 1) he re-introduced himself to the cultivation world as "Wei Wuqian" or something similar, he thought it was funny 2) nearby people who lived around the place WWX would hunt depicted him as a guardian/god and would gift him some spicy meat as prayers 3) said people would defend him when cultivators were trying to hunt this weirdly nice, babysitting as a secondary job, only likes his meat spicy tiger kitty that they call "evil spirit, dangerous and needs to be gone" 4) I think he has white hair but can change to black, it could be somewhat glowing hair but I'm not sure about this detail 5) LWJ definitely tried the "give big kitty spice and he'll play nice" trick he got from the village people to see if it was a malevolent ghost or not 6) tiger!WWX had been written eating a corpse in the fic at least once

FOUND? Wuqian, the Local God of Yiling by Grace_ShadowWolf (TaubeLePigeon) (M, 77k, wangxian, WWX & LSZ & LWJ, major character death, canon divergence, angst w/ happy ending, god WWX, Chinese mythology & folklore, pining, temporary character death, WIP)

~*~

20. Hi, I'm looking for the the story I've read before. I think it's about Wuxian are cursed to feel pain each time Jiang Wanyin close to him at Cloud recesses. It's kinda Jiang Wanyin bashing. I think Wei Wuxian took the cursed meant for Lan Wangji.

FOUND? I’ll Take the Path of Thorns by Admiranda (G, 6k, wangxian, cloud recesses study era, curses, not JC friendly, clever WWX, baby wangxian)

~*~

[koraichalcum]

some funky previews for shenanigans - ooo mystery raid (its obvious). Already started approaching peeps to participate in some key stuff but it'll open for all to come throw hands and participate in the coming arcs...once I figure out the mechanics. Almost there, trying to make it less mathy and more fun. This is part of that turtle thing I talked about months back-been plotting in the bg, bidding time hah!

It's gonna take a long while, this is still a slow burn event. An important note for my various muses and stuff ahead beneath!

Again, slow burn event - it wont be constant cause of life, dont want stress and for story beats. Most will be fun raid events for muses to catch some neato paradox pokemon leading to funny turtle shenanigans and crater dives. It's not entirely plotted out. Like...here's my scratchy notes lol:

Anyone can join in on open parts - super hope you do! I kinda wanted this as a sort of final ruckus to Scarlet/Violet as gamefreak on record is going to announce a new venture for the year. Hopefully this ends before whenever that comes out!

While this long event is for anyone to participate (Im planning sign ups or something of that matter later down the line for crux parts-Ive already approached some of you, hello there ; > ), it also means the end of my many muse's arcs and stories they've been slowly building to in the bg. This is going to be my fun and final goodbye to my time in the rpc completely.

It's been weighed for a long long time now and I feel it's just about right. Life's been very very busy in a good way! Going to therapy, narrowing down what I want to do with myself, developing habits and schedules to ensure I stick to it including getting properly medicated, challenging my social anxiety and reaching out to others, and even deciding to quit my current dayjob in the near future. RP has been holding me up for years now with just fantastic character and plot ideas I couldn't come up including meeting so many mutuals and friends who've stuck with me for just as long as I've been here. But at some point it's turning more and more into an investment and distraction. I spend too much time here then realize Ive been behind on actual work including the amount of energy and creativity.

In no way am I leaving because of drama, trouble, etc. Figured it'd be nice to bid goodbye with an event then to just peace out quietly one day. Im not even entirely leaving rp per say. I would love to join some of the rp servers here now that Im getting better at participating in group chats. That way Id still stay connected to friends! Probably going to join with new muses entirely but besides the point--

Thanks so much for being interested in my plots, crack posts, ic things, art, etc. Again in no way is this anytime soon hah! I figured with the long while until this is happening Ill have time to start and wrap up other important plots going on with mutuals. But Im looking forward to making this the best last year ever in the rpc before the new title drops <3

Also lizard shenanigans-hes been having a time throwing ya'll around like chew toys.

[pinkwinesupernovas]

i like to leave asks when i get a new mutual if we havent interacted yet but its like 4am for me and i really should sleep

SO HELLO NICE TO MEET YOU

AND GOODBYE

ahahajssh hello!!! and omg you should sleep 😭 nice to meet you too <3

[thekuraning]

oh boy oh jeez oh man i hope you guys are ready for kura's tiger and bunny thought of the evening bc i ran across two-year-old comments on the Blue Rose page of the T&B fan wiki and i have OPINIONS

its actually a really benign old comment chain about USD versus Stern Dollars, but everyone pretty much says "yeah but it's still in the USA" and BUDDY BOY NO IT AIN'T. NO. IT. AIN'T.

I'VE GOT SOMETHIN' TO SAY ABOUT STERN BILD AND I'LL FIGHT ANYONE (but like in a silly way)

"But Kura, the creators literally said it's in New York and—" yes they did, this part is very much true and the aerial shot we see of Stern Bild is always around Tribeca/Manhatten area with a really nice shot of the Hudson, but that's not the point (though it does make it much easier to chart the various districts, more on that coming soon)

Something we know about Tiger & Bunny is that it is set in an alternate universe New York, and never once is the United States mentioned by name. In fact, there isn't much about world nations mentioned in general in T&B—the one time I can think of off the top of my head where "country" is even mentioned is in Dragon Kid's flashback of her parents sending her off to Stern Bild, where they tearfully say she is going to become "the pride of [their] country," so I guess we at least know the concept of countries exists. But is Stern Bild in a country? Is Stern Bild a country?

Actually, all evidence points toward Stern Bild being a city-state. It meets all three qualifications of being such: it's an independent, sovereign city that is "the center of political, economic, and cultural life" over its surrounding territories. We see these qualifications met across all three seasons, first and foremost starting with something you've heard characters talk about pretty dang often but probably never thought too much about: the Stern Dollar.

The Stern Dollar (SBD from here on out) has to get its name from somewhere, and the most likely candidate is Stern Bild itself, which means that Stern Bild mints its own currency. Often shortened to "dollars" by the characters, it's used even in neighboring towns like Kotetsu's hometown (i.e., Muramasa charging him "two dollars" for a whiskey in season 1.)

We also know Stern Bild has a very localized culture based on the events of The Rising and a few character scenes in S2. In The Rising, the backdrop to the story is the time leading up to and the day of the Stern Bild holiday of Justice Day, which celebrates the time our lord and savior Jesus Christ appearedunto man in crab form and was unfortunately eaten, resulting in the Goddess bringing her wrath down on the ancient people of Stern Bild. (hello mutuals who haven't seen Tiger & Bunny and are reading this anyways, THIS IS CANON I'M NOT MAKING THIS UP THIS FUCKING HAPPENED, CRAB JESUS) This is a holiday that is, again, celebrated outside of Stern Bild, as Kotetsu's family celebrates Justice Day despite hailing from his hometown. By extension, it's likely the same goddess is worshipped in the territories surrounding Stern Bild.

We also know based on S2 that other cities have their own hero programs, all of them ran wildly differently. However, again, we look to Kotetsu's home town—no mention of other heroes. Just Hero TV heroes. Both the religious and secular mainsteam culture are exported from Stern Bild to its outlying territories.

And finally, political life: the politics of Stern Bild are interesting af because we know basically that we have the mayor and the mayor's cabinet, which includes prominent industry figures and judges from the Justice Bureau. We typically only see them making decisions about the governance of Stern Bild, and it's true that politics exist at all levels in a nation, but the reason why it seems to me that Stern Bild is a center of political life is (SEASON 2 SPOILERS LOOK AWAY LOOK AWAY NOOOWWWW)

Well, mostly it's because of the concentration camps, which seem to exist decidedly outside of Stern Bild's city limits. Stern Bild proper is always shown to be a bustling megalopolis. It's very dense and doesn't have a lot of extra wide-open spaces laying around. However, the mayor of Stern Bild was able to have these NEXT concentration camps set up on short notice in seemingly the middle of nowhere.... Which would very likely be an outlying territory, again, like Kotetsu's very rural hometown. This one's a little bit tricky because we can't be absolutely certain, but for all intents and purposes it seems to me that Stern Bild has some political relevance to its surrounding territories.

So, is it TECHNICALLY POSSIBLE that Stern Bild is in the United States? Yeah, sure, it could be I guess. But it's much more likely that it's an independent city-state, especially since it mints its own currency.

anyways that's my tiger & bunny thought of the night, dont mind me, i just wanted an excuse to rant about this bc the stern dollar's been on my mind for a few days

[phosphorus-noodles]

HELLO NEW MUTUAL ITS NICE TO MEET YOU :D

HIII HIIIII ^w^

[risuola]

HI RISUUU i iust wanna say your blog is so aesthetically pleasing im literally in love ☝️ ITS NICE TO MEET YOU 🥹🥹

ALEXIS! hello, welcome my new dear mutual friend 💖💖💖 i'm in the process of going through your writing and i'm so in love with the way you use words and i couldn't be happier to know that you enjoy my little space here as well! 🥹💖

thank you, i just changed the aesthetics yesterday and i have to say i really like the graphics too and it just warm my heart that you like it as well! 🫶🏻😭💖