#had a custom getup and everything

[brucewaynehater101]

I raise you really tall tim drake. (This mostly comes from being tired of the uwufication/twinkfication/babyfication that some fans give tim. Kinda hate that)

Tim is currently 17yo. At 18 he is tired of his so called family, Dick only cares about damian, jason always bickers around him. Bruce is bad at parenting as always... so he leaves gotham city.

At 18 he starts getting growth spurts. (Males stop around 23 or so) and Tim is half thrilled half mad because he now is stumbling. Also it hurts like hell. He goes to a doctor approved by the jl, because getting tall so suddenly and at that age can mean something bad is going on inside. Then he goes to magic users. But nothing gives bad results. So he is just getting taller and his clothes no longer fit him neither his custome. And he cannot get another inmediately because he keeps growing. So he is benched by his friends for like half a year and Tim is mad. He stops at 6'5 when he hits 21 (up to you how taller are bruce and jason) and finds himself as the tallest in his family. He has to train everything again as his body is no longer the same.

Just Tim getting tall as a treat.

(I agree about the uwu-ing of Tim Drake not being my flavor of fic. It's why I avoid a *lot* of the "Tim Drake Joins the Batfamily Early" tag. There are some very good Kid Tim Drake fics, but there's also a tendency to uwu him in that tag. I don't mind Tim being pathetic as long as he's also badass :( He can be both, y'all!!!)

Anyways!!!! Tall Tim Drake!

I do love him being a short king, but him being tall is a rare treat ^^

To add onto this AU, the batfam try to drag him back to Gotham after 3-4 years. To be nice to Tim, we'll say he's had to chance to grow more accustomed to his body and is a formidable fighter (no more of the awkward stumbling he struggled with while adjusting).

Let's say Jason is 6'3", Bruce is 6'1", and Dick is 6'0". Damian has grown in those three years. Since the age gap between Tim and Damian fluctuates, let's say Damian is 15 at 5'11". Damian was looking forward to lording his height over Tim (not in a mean way. More like teasing).

Tim goes back to Gotham for some world-ending event or whatnot, and it's the first time they Bats have seen him in years. They're expecting a slightly more mature looking 5'6" 21 years old [And also, poor fucking Tim. Nearly a foot of height in 3 years?? Ow].

What do they actually end up seeing?

Since Tim is there for hero work, they meet him in his vigilante getup.

Tim learned from Bruce that intimidation works wonders on Batman's foes. Tim learned from Dick that there are multiple ways to intimidate someone.

So, doesn't bulk up. He doesn't add fake muscles or thick armor. He studies fashion design and the subtle ways it can influence people's perception. He's naturally 6'5" and a lithe guy. He makes those intrinic qualities work *for* him rather than against him.

He wears 4 inch platform boots and tricks the eyes (with his fashion design) to make him look even slender.

Suffice to say, Tim shows up to meet with the bats and appears as a tall fucking cryptid.

Tim rolling up to the Bats all like:

[ddarker-dreams]

here are a list of notable things that have happened at my job thus far:

i dropped a strawberry milkshake and told my trainer it looked like i bludgeoned a fairy to death. he just stared at me for a few seconds and moved onto whatever he was saying next

whenever anime is mentioned five or six of my co-workers stop what they're doing to come over and talk about it

i have had four opportunities to slip dostoevsky into a conversation, i'm spreading the gospel one person at a time

co-worker texted asking if i wanted to go to lunch and i told him i'm busy playing baldur's gate 3. he is giving me the cold shoulder now

a customer got mad over being charged an extra nickel and complained to my manager for about fifteen minutes

a customer's car got stuck on the curb and everyone ran over to watch the monitor and give sports commentary

some guy walked in with a full viking getup. covered in armor and everything. i googled if there were any conventions nearby. there were not. godspeed to him

identified LGBT co-workers with 95% accuracy

[maxdreavus]

Falling Away With You | Ch. 52*

Sebastian x F!Reader and M. Rasmodius x F!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: Spirit’s Eve shenanigans interlude - Sebastian WRECKS ya lol

Author’s Note: Got this one out WAY earlier than anticipated. My brainrot is too powerful..

Table of Contents + Work Summary

Check it out on ao3!

Prev | Next

When I return to Seb’s, Robin’s at the counter, unlike earlier. Looks like she’s doing some sorta till-counting or something, given how she’s hunched near the open register and vigorously scribbling into a notepad. 

She’s in her costume while she does it. Considering it’s a crappy, plasticky getup from a chain store, she makes a hot Morticia Addams, god damn Robin!

“Getting some last minute work in?” I ask, taking my usual stance with my elbows upon the opposite side of the wood.

“Something like that,” she murmurs. Sounds stressed.

“Well… you look great, at least!”

She huffs out a bitter laugh, then says under her breath, “Oh yeah? Tell that to my husband.” 

Oooh, is that why she’s moody? I’ll kick his ass! I’ll fuck him up!

…No I won’t. 

But still, what the fuck?

A little taken aback, and unsure if it’s my place to say anything bad about that dipshit to her, I opt to offer support. “Whoa, everything okay?”

She still hasn’t met my eyes, but she does roll hers. “That di—“ She stops herself. “He—“ She takes a deep breath, her lids shutting. Looks like she’s trying to regroup.

“…You can totally call him a dick, if that’s what you were gonna do,” I offer, resting my chin on my knuckles.

Robin laughs a little more genuinely this time. “Eh. Feels weird to complain to my son’s girlfriend about my marital issues.” She looks up at me, her eyes a little glazed over, before they widen. She blinks and raises her brows, taken aback by my appearance. “Oh. Oh wow!” Then, she leans in and whispers, “You did this with magic?!”

Beaming, I nod. 

“That’s amazing! You’re kind of like one of those characters from those games Sebby plays.”

“I had to get inspiration somewhere,” I quip with some finger guns. 

“Dork.”

“You love me though.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” she reluctantly agrees, scruffing my hair. 

I scowl, and then as I fix it, I jump back to the previous topic. “You know, you can talk to me about anything. If you want.” This time I rest the heel of my palm against my chin. “As a friend, not just as your son’s girlfriend, or a customer, or whatever.”

After inspecting me for a moment, Robin smiles. “I’m glad Sebastian fell in love with such a sweetheart, y’know that?”

I’m cheesing hard, feeling all warm and fuzzy inside, but I feign anger anyway. “What’d I just say? I’m your friend right now! Forget that guy!”

She barks out a laugh and throws her palms up in defeat. She fixes some hair from her wig out of her face as she goes on, zoned out on the desk between us, “I’m… ugh.” Another sigh. “Demetrius is just upset that I don’t want him locked in that lab tonight. God forbid he spends some time with his family during a holiday.” 

She pauses, looks at me again, and her eyes are threatening to tear up. I can’t help the way my own mouth melts downward as she quickly darts her view away from me.

“He couldn’t care less about our costumes.” 

The woman sniffs and tries to hide her face. I scurry around to the other side of the counter — she looks like she could use a hug. When I silently open my arms she laughs wetly and accepts. 

Over my shoulder, she murmurs, “I just thought it could be fun to match, ya know? To act like a happy married couple, for a change. It’s like he doesn’t even want to be around me outside of our Friday saloon dates though.”

I’m not really sure what to say. My heart is telling me to shout “Dump his ass!!!” but I know that would be inappropriate.

I wind up trying to lighten the situation in lieu of consolation. “Y’wanna know what I think?” I ask, pulling away and clapping my hands over her shoulders.

“Please, share your wisdom, wise wizard.”

I giggle at that. Then, still smiling, “He’s a real dickhead.”

“(Y/n)!” Robin exclaims, albeit through her own giggles. She weakly swats at me.

“He is! The more I hear about him, the more I think he deserves a nice ol’,” and I pull back some more, punching at the air, with my cheeks puffed and brows slanted downward. 

Still laughing, she leans on the surface next to her. “Simmer down, Rocky,” she tells me, resting her temple on her palm.

I join her in leaning on the counter again. “Okay, in all seriousness, though... You deserve to be happy. Whether he wants to play along for the night or not.” After a quiet beat, I add “…What if I’m Gomez?”

Robin shoots me an amused, incredulous look. “What?”

“If Demetrius won’t be your Gomez then I will!” I declare with a nod. “Just bring the mustache with you later, if he won’t wear it. I’ll gladly slap it on.”

She shakes her head. The way her grin hasn’t left her face makes me smile right back. 

God. Seb really does have her smile. It warms my heart a ton to see it from the source.

“C’mere, you little weirdo.” 

Robin pulls me back into another hug. Still feeling silly, I tell her that I’m serious. I am, I’ll do it! She promptly and playfully pushes me off her. 

“Alright, get outta here.”

“Think about it!” I advise, tapping my head as I walk away.

“Oh my god.”

Well.

There we go!

I think I helped..?

I hope I helped. 

Robin’s usually so strong, and independent, and full of sass and kindness and goofiness all in one package. It’s hard seeing someone I look up to so much so… broken. Especially over some dumb asshole like Demetrius.

I softly rap on Seb’s door, then enter without an answer, assuming he’s still asleep. And he is — there are soft snores coming from a mound of blankets on his bed.

I pad over to him and sit down, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

I get real close and whisper, “Time to get up, baby,” near his ear. 

He shifts a little and sighs. His eyes open. They stay squinty as he blinks the sleep away. 

Oh. That was easy. “I thought there would be more protest than this.”

Seb sniffs and stretches, rolling his neck a bit. It pops, and he follows with rolling his shoulders too, which also pop. 

“The way y’whispered at me was so hot,” he explains. I ignore the flip my stomach does hearing him say that with his groggy rasp. “Got me right up.”

Is he bonin’ out already? “Figuratively or..?”

He turns to face me finally, a shitty little grin pairing an eyebrow waggle. It quickly morphs into a gleaming smile though, his eyes darkening above it as he takes in my disguise for the day. “Oh you’re fuckin’ kidding me.”

I chew the bottom half of my smile as my face warms right up. “Still a fan?”

He scoffs, “‘Still a fan,’” mirroring my words back at me while he tugs me into his lap. I squeak, not expecting this energy from Seb right now, but he quickly muffles it with a heated kiss. 

His fingers dig into my hips before he brings his hands up to cup my face. “Of course I’m still a fan,” he breathes between kisses, “you have no idea.”

I grin into his lips, pulling away just enough to murmur, “I think I have a little bit of an idea.” As I speak, I roll my hips, effectively trailing my clothed slit against his erection. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he groans, flipping us so that he’s on top of me, slotted between my legs. 

One of his hands is grounded on the pillow by my head; the other is plastered to my cheek as if it’ll fall off otherwise. In the meantime, I wrap my legs around his waist, heady exhales escaping through my nose as he grinds himself against me. I try to match his energy, tangling my fingers through his hair while I tug his face closer to mine. 

“What time was it when you got down here?” 

“Dunno, I—“ he lightly thrusts again, cutting me off as I curse against his lips, “Fuck.” I grin into a kiss and then continue, doing my best to ignore his active lower half, “Last I checked,” another kiss, “it was 7ish,” another, “Probably got here like 15 minutes ago.” Another kiss, and another roll, prompting us to moan against each other. “Maybe 20,” I breathe. 

“Damn it.” Seb presses his forehead to mine, his eyes shut. “How about this?” he states more than asks.

“Hm?”

“I’m gonna take a quick shower.”

“Mhm,” I have to hum, because he paused to kiss me again.

“Then I’ll get ready, y’know, do my hair and all that.”

Kiss. 

“‘Kay.”

Kiss.

“And then,” he pauses for another kiss while his fingertips drag to the side of my neck. His thumb trails my jaw and finds residence on my chin, its tip touching the underside of my bottom lip, in the meantime. “I’m gonna make you cum all over my cock,” kiss, “alright?”

Holy shit. Holy fucking shit.

I nod. 

Kiss.

“Sound good?”

“Yeah,” I practically moan.

 Kiss.

“Yeah? You’d like that?”

I nod, kissing his smug grin. 

He reciprocates the action, and then tugs my chin down to give himself entry. I whine at the gesture while his tongue twirls around my own. 

…And then he pulls away, gives me an all too friendly smile and pat on the cheek, and gets up, sauntering to the bathroom.

I can’t help but laugh. 

_______________

Seb did his hair straight out of the shower — it’s no different than usual — but came out for help with makeup. 

“Honestly, I thought you were half-sleeping when I suggested this,” I mutter while giving him the best smokey eye I can manage with red and black. 

It’s hard working with eyes that aren’t my own. Also hard not to overdo it. Something about eyeshadow just makes me wanna keep coloring everything in…

“I was,” he confirms. “Only half, though.” 

From my seat atop him, I lean over to put the eyeshadow down and grab his liner stick. It’s hard not to feel a little restless in this position. Dude’s in nothing but boxer briefs. Didn’t want to risk smudging anything onto his white shirt, and didn’t feel like getting into dress pants just yet. Every little movement is like a taste of what’s to come after this, if he’s still up for it. 

Yoba, I hope he’s up for it.

Instrument in hand, I tilt his head gently by the chin for a better view. He closes his eyes before I have to ask, so I move my non-dominant hand to his cheek and get to work carefully lining a lid. 

“Didn’t you say when we first met that you used to wear eyeliner?”

He grins, and I have to pause so as to not smudge anything too badly. When he feels that I stopped, he opens his eyes. Those deep blueish irises have an extra sparkle to them. His cheeks heat up a little too, and I can see hints of a blush growing on them. 

“Yeah, I’m a bit rusty— wait, you actually remember that?”

I pull a face. “‘Course I do,” I respond, before pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “You made that night fun… made me feel safe and welcome after having to endure that thorough grilling from Abby.” I blush as I tack on, at the risk of being a sap, “It’s a really special memory for me.”

Barely containing his pearly whites, he goes on, “She went in on you.”

He shuts his eyes for me again after seeing that I’ve returned my focus to his makeup. I begin working on the other one, satisfied with my work on the first after a quick swipe just beneath his waterline. 

“I’d probably have cried if it weren’t for all the beer.”

“Imagine,” he huffs out a laugh. “All the moms probably wouldn’t shut up about you.”

I toss Seb’s pencil aside and get to work smudging it with my fingertip a bit. Looks too neat. “Y’hear about that new girl?” I jest in something akin to Jodi’s cadence. “Sensitive thing, she is. She won’t last a day on that farm.” I pull back a bit and take Seb’s face in my hands, inspecting my work on his eyes while we laugh. 

“Oh, and don’t even get me started on that little skirt she was wearing,” he plays along. 

“Ha!” I break. “That skirt isn’t that little.” 

“It’s little enough that it had me thinking.”

“Thinking?” I tilt my head.

He winks. “Thinking.” 

Oh! My heart flutters because of course it does. I nuzzle my forehead against his and squeeze my eyes shut to stim away the fluster; he giggles, and then, simmering down, I ask, “You want some mascara?”

“Maybe a bit on the bottom row.”

“Oh, you’re gonna look downright slutty.”

“I’m not hearing a problem with that.”

“Neither am I,” I quip, being careful not to make them too tidy. Gotta make sure to clump some lashes up more than others too…

That should do it.

I lean back to scan his face again. “Lipstick?”

“Maybe some black on the top lip? And some red… somewhere near my mouth, I dunno. Fake blood and all that.”

I nod, but lean in for a kiss instead of doing it. He happily reciprocates. “Not yet,” I purr against him. “You have a promise to fulfill.”

He grins, wide and catlike, and hungrily chases my lips. “Don’t wanna sloppy it up?”

“And let my hard work go to waste?” I tease. My voice comes out airy, and my breath quickens as he pulls my chest to his.

“But maybe I like it sloppy.”

Ignoring the implications, I subtly roast, “Bold words for someone who didn’t wanna dirty his shirt.”

“Oh shut up,” he laughs before smashing his mouth to mine again. Pulls away, gnaws his lower lip... “I have an idea, actually.”

“Hm?”

He picks up some red lipstick and hands it to me. I tilt my head in question. 

“Slap it on me.”

I snort. “Where are you going with this?” I ask while I follow his instruction. 

As soon as I’m done, he pulls me in for more kisses. Sloppy kisses. The kind that can make me moan, whether it’s from being flustered, or from the kisses themselves — and they do. 

Seb smiles against me before kissing me some more. Then, he pulls away. He laughs at the resulting makeup on my face. 

“Oh, you look adorable.”

“How bad is it?” I ask, bringing a finger to my mouth. 

When I pull the digit away it has a red tinge to it; hard to gauge how dark it would actually look on my face until I see it, with my skin being pink in my disguise, and this room so dim.

“You tell me,” he asks, more about himself. He does a quick mouth wiggle while puckering. 

“You’re looking pretty wrecked.”

“Pretty bloody?” 

“Ooo, nice!” I beam.

“Can never tell me I’m not clever again.”

Laughing, I flick his nose. He reaches for a bite on my finger and I let him have it. “Never said you weren’t.”

“Damn right.” He pulls me back in, kissing me with a fervor I haven’t felt from him in a hot minute.

I wonder if it’s my… elfliness (sure, that’s a word). It’s gotta be that.

I’m not complaining.

With our lips locked, he begins lifting off my shirt, and I work on my pants in turn. There’s a few rows of buttons on ‘em but I get through it eventually. 

Once my mouth is free, I think aloud, “I wonder what color my nips are, if my skin is already pink.” 

I pause my work on my pants while he unclasps my bra. “Only one way to find out.” As it falls, we both laugh. “Fucking purple?”

“Hey, I think it works!” I lift my breast for closer inspection. It’s funny seeing a mauvy lavender there, as opposed to its usual color. It compliments my skin nicely though!

Next thing I know, I’m swallowing a hum as a result of Seb latching onto the same boob I’d been holding. He grabs my nipple between his teeth and lightly pulls away, making me whine. “It does work,” he agrees. Then, he delves into the other.

After a brief moment, he removes himself. “Pants off.”

I mumble, “Bossy...”

I stand up and do it anyway, though. I get rid of my panties too while I’m at it. Not like I’ll need them for this. 

“Don’t pretend you don’t love being bossed around, y’little gremlin.”

He flips me around and pulls me back into his lap, but facing away from him now; nudges my legs open with his knees; and then, while planting wet kisses to my neck and shoulder, he drags a finger through my folds in a long, languid stroke. I don’t even have time to argue back. 

I moan, rolling my head rest on Sebby’s shoulder behind me. Drinking in the feeling of his warm lips and breath on my skin, I arch instinctively while he creeps closer to my entrance. The hand that had been holding my hip wraps around my midsection in response, keeping me from moving too much, but not stopping me either.

“Jeez. So wet already,” he lilts. 

“Yeah, well…” I trail off, not in the mindset to say anything clever back. I’m too foggy with want for that.

Seb seems to be having fun taking his damn time with me. He circles the opening, not quite giving me the satisfaction of entry, but still making me feel something. I squirm, antsy as he devolves me into a needy (well— need ier ), panting mess. 

“Something wrong, love?” he mutters against my ear before lightly nipping at its pointy tip.

Smartass.

“N-no, nothing,” I lie. 

“Good,” he teases, “almost thought you were dissatisfied for a sec there.”

Damnit. I mean, I’m not, fucking obviously, but if he’d just go in…

I sigh, but it comes out as a huff, and turns into a whimper. My dominant arm has been raised, its hand toying with Sebastian’s hair this whole time. The other, which had been gripping the arm Seb’s holding me in place with, is now on its way to his active hand, in an attempt to urge him inside me.

As soon as my hand makes contact with his wrist, he retracts his fingers to the lower portion of my folds again. 

He warns lowly, “Keep that hand to yourself.”

Oh he has no business being this hot, god damnit dude.

I heed his words with an embarrassing squeak, draping my arm across my tummy, just below his. His grip with that one tightens as he gets back to work drawing circles and stars around the rim of my cunt.

“Ahh— fuck,” I whimper, my hips moving on their own volition, “please.”

He softly asks, his lips against my earlobe, “What do you want?”

“Please,” I pause to moan as he barely — just barely — dips inside me, planting a kiss to my cheek just in front of my ear. “Need you.”

“You already have me, silly. Gotta be more specific than that.” 

He peppers kisses around my neck while I struggle to find words to respond with. Just when I feel his tongue licking a strip across it, his thumb rests itself on my clit, unmoving.

My thighs tense and I squeeze the forearm that’s above my own, subconsciously tugging his hair a little too. “God.”

“Tell me,” he kisses my neck again, “tell me what you want from me, (y/n).” 

“Fuck, I want you.” I urge, “I need you inside me, please— oh shit,” my body twitches as he slightly begins to wriggle his thumb. He’s still not fingerbanging me yet, the audacity, but this still feels fucking good. “God, please, Seb.”

“Still need more details.” Oh my fucking— he’s trying to kill me. He wants me dead. “What part of me do you want inside you?”

Anything, frankly. “Y-your fingers,” I stutter instead, shuddering as he presses my bud a little harder. 

“Yeah?”

I mewl, “Yeah.” He grants my wish, but not enough. Slides his ring and middle fingers maybe an inch in, at most. I could fucking cry. “Ff— god damnit.”

“I thought you wanted this?”

I’ll fucking kill you bro— “Deeper,” I breathe, ignoring how desperate I sound; how tantalizingly he’s wiggling his digits. 

“This better?” he asks smoothly, and begins to pump the full length of his fingers in and out of me.

My head lolls back and tears fall from my eyes in relief. He moves absurdly slow as he begins to curl the pads of his fingers against me, but it’s better than everything else he’s done to cause me to crumble like this. “Fuck, yes~”

He removes his arm from my belly and turns my head to him. Without moving my lower body, I twist so that I can comply better, resting a palm beside us on the mattress. My other reaches for his face while I try to kiss him — and he gets close, but ultimately doesn’t budge. 

I chase his lips, humming through the pleasure, then groaning when he doesn’t work with me. He smiles knowingly. 

I deadpan, “Oh my fucking god.” Or, at least I do to the best of my ability while he’s got knuckles buried in me.

“You want more?”

“Please,” I nod. My forehead is against his as I shut my eyes, subtly shifting myself down so that he’ll go deeper. He responds in kind, pumping and curling against the perfect spot. “Ah!”

“Better?” 

I nod again. Try for another kiss. He doesn’t let me again. Ugh. “Please, please,” I whisper. Comes out embarrassingly needy. 

As if all my other pleas haven’t been.

“What else do you want?”

My eyes don’t leave his lips. They look destroyed, between the natural plumpness of us having kissed so much, and the lipstick that’s smeared around them.

It’s so hot.

“Kiss me, please kiss me.”

He leans in… and pecks the corner of my mouth. 

I grunt between my teeth. “Please just fucking kiss me, oh my g—“ Smiling, Sebastian shuts me up with an actual kiss.

He pokes fun at me after, “So easy…” 

“Shut up— fuck, more.”

“Like this?” he asks, speeding up his digits’ pace as he kisses me again, our tongues tangling together while he swallows my moans. 

I nod, but then I realize we’re running out of time. As good as this is — and holy fucking moly it’s amazing, I actually adore when he’s a devious little shit like this — I need him to just screw me senseless so I can recouperate before having to go face the entire town and whoever else shows up. 

I gasp out of the kiss, “Fuck me.”

“Aw,” he tuts, “this isn’t good enough?”

“Sh— ah, shut up!” 

He laughs. “You want me to stop this then?” 

Well… No…

But I nod. 

“Please, fuck, I wanna cum with you, not like this.” 

God, I sound pathetic. But this is urgent. I’m getting so close. 

His smile widens. I finally meet his eyes, after having stared at the lower half of his face for so long. His pupils are blown wide — practically to the rims of his irises. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm.” I can feel myself tightening. I’m doing my best to stave it off, but… “Fuck, I’m gonna cum if you keep doing this.”

“You think you can cum twice for me then?” 

“Shit.” Don’t have to twist my arm. “‘Kay.”

“Yeah? You want that?”

I nod eagerly. Desperately.

He gets close enough that our lips are pressing together a bit, but he doesn’t kiss me. “Then cum.” Oh my god. “Cum on my fingers, baby,” fucking hell, “let me feel your tight pussy cumming onto my hand.”

Oh my fucking god.

A soundless cry escapes me and I nod, promptly delivering. “Seb, shit, I’m cumming, I’m cumming,“ I desperately babble, my release hitting me like a train. I close my eyes and lean onto his shoulder, initially clamping a hand over my mouth to quiet myself. Seb maneuvers me into a kiss instead.

When he’s finished me off, Seb removes his fingers from my cunt and brings the afflicted hand close to our jaws. He backs away from our kiss with just enough space to slide his wet digits between our faces; to hold them just in front of my mouth, waiting patiently but expectantly.

Beguiled beyond belief, I don’t let my gaze waver from his as I wrap my lips around his fingers. I suck myself off of him, teasing him with my tongue as I do, and then seal the action with another kiss, all but leading in with my tongue. 

He groans at the taste. It’s all he needed to give up any bit of restraint he had before.

“Fuck. Grab onto me,” he softly orders. 

I wrap my arms around his shoulders, and he flips me onto my back, sliding his underwear off in tandem. He promptly dips just his head inside me, and proceeds to use a combination of my folds and his fingers to spread my fluids onto himself, getting his dick lubed up.

I shiver at the sensation, but only for a few seconds before he inches his length inside me. 

“Oh, shit.” We literally moan the words in unison. Makes us both break from our trances. 

“Oh no.“

“I dunno how I felt about that.”

“Hated it, personally.” I admit, though, “…But also it was kinda hot?”

Gnawing his lower lip, Seb nods in agreement. 

We’re both still giggling about the occurrence when he resumes the activity, harshly thrusting into me. Morphing my laughter into a happy lil’ moan. 

“Fuck, you always feel so good.” Seb lowers himself a bit, dropping my legs in favor of holding my face in one hand and gripping the sheets in the other. “So fucking perfect.”

I feel my belly do a flip at his words while I drink in his praise, committing to memory the way he’s looking at me as if I’m the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. I reach my hands to the sides of his neck and tug lightly in hopes he’ll come down for a kiss. Instead, he settles above me, hovering his lips right in front of mine. 

I see that’s his theme for today. Jackass…

I moan into his mouth while he pants into mine. Our gazes haven’t faltered from each other’s; the eye contact is making me feel shy, but I can’t look away.

“Fuck,” I mewl after a harsher thrust, “do that again?”

“This?” Seb repeats the action, and I nod, feeling my eyelids flutter. I don’t dare to shut them though. “You like that?”

“I love it,” I nod, “I love you,” I pause to swallow a cry, worried about the volume, before repeating, “I love you so much, you’re so fucking good.”

“Me, or my dick?” he pokes back. His face looks extra cocky, too.

I laugh, rolling my eyes. “Both, fuck I love your cock.”

“Oh, holy fuck,” he half-moans, half-laughs. Not the first time I’ve said that, glad it still affects him. He rolls his eyes shut and presses his forehead to mine. “How much, princess?” he asks as he opens them again, his fiery stare boring into mine.

The nickname surges through me, making my skin prickle with goosebumps. “So much, you’re—“

I promptly zip it and slap a palm over my mouth as someone knocks on the door. Sebastian puts one of his over the back of my hand for good measure. 

Shit. 

“Sebby?” Robin’s voice calls through. “We’re just about ready to go.”

Shit!

He hasn’t stopped thrusting. Just slowed down. I grip his wrist with my free hand and squeeze — a safety measure to make sure I really won’t make noise and fuck this up for everyone, because Yoba above it’s hard not to.

Hopefully she hasn’t heard it up to this point… “We’ll be ready in a few minutes,” he says back, “Just finishing up my costume.”

“Gotcha, gotcha. Need any help?”

“No,” he answers all too quickly. He recoups, “No, it’s fine, (y/n)’s got me covered. We’ll meet you guys outside.”

“Alrighty, try to hurry up. We’re already running a little late.”

He answers while simultaneously placing a sneaky finger to my clit, “You got it, Ma.”

Oh my god. I shut my eyes and try to breathe steady, listening to her footsteps fade away. It’s hard to be this quiet with this much stimulation.

Seb’s vision is still angled towards the door while he waits too. When it returns to me — when he sees my eyes, specifically, and how filled with want they probably look — he whispers out a half curse, stopping himself so he can keep listening.

As soon as we hear the front door upstairs shut, he removes both our hands from my mouth and kisses me. 

“You close?” he whispers.

I shrug. “Might need some encouragement.”

“Yeah? You need me to tell you when to cum?”

Oh, that’s definitely encouraging. God he’s so hot.

“Mhm,” I hum. “Just tell me what to do.”

He smiles. It almost looks a bit sinister… damn, and he called me a freak. Seb straightens his back, tugging me closer by the thighs before pumping into me with more force. “Let me see you touch yourself.”

Oh.

I release one of my fists from its recent death grip on his sheets and place two fingers against my folds, trying to strum to the rhythm of his hips. 

“There you go,” he praises, leaning down with a straight arm supporting himself. The other cups my cheek, its thumb playing with my lips. “Help me out,” he murmurs, “get yourself real close for me.” I whine at his words, and my pussy clenches around him. He laughs, but it isn’t smug or demeaning. Just smitten. “That’s it, baby. Juuust like that.”

Fuck, this is working out flawlessly. 

“I’m close,” I tell him, my voice barely even there, “m’gonna cum.”

“Atta girl.” I feel him twitch inside me. “Fuck. You wanna cum together, yeah?”

I nod, subtly speeding up my fingers. 

“Come on then, (y/n), cum with me. Keep those pretty eyes on me and cum.” 

Seb’s kind enough to give me a bit of a head start. Just as I start to crumble, I feel him joining me, nearly pressing his forehead against my own. His eyes roll shut for a moment before locking back onto mine below thick, upturned eyebrows. 

“Shit, that’s my good girl,” he smiles through his own pleasure.�� 

“Holy fuck,” I breathe, shakey and winded.

He soothes me through to the end, “That’s it, baby, nice and easy.” 

I swear to god he’s so good at that; at just flipping a switch, and suddenly knowing exactly what to say and do. That alone should be its own weird subgenre of wizardry. 

I shut my weary eyes, and for a few beats we just stay where we are, huffing each other’s air. When I open my eyes, I notice a hint of determination in Seb’s.

Right.

We’ve gotta get cleaned up and finish his look. Fast .

[heretyc]

Indulge me. For a minute. [NSFW rambling about the Prime Assets lol]

After the discovery of Barbi's little manicure habit, I had the strangest AU idea; stripper/sex worker AU but it's Coyle, Barbi and Gooseberry. [Imagine they're all bisexual and/or poly for a sec so this idea makes more sense. I almost wrote "sex". That technically could have also made sense. Sex. Dammit.]

For some odd reason I had a dream about them all in lingerie at one point, too - don't ask...I had an edible and went to bed after lol - and that dream combined with the manicure thing, it had me thinking; With Barbi's mob influence and money, Gooseberry's experience with showbusiness and Coyle's cop getup, they could start a legit business and appeal to the public.

Franco definitely strikes me as the kinda guy who'd wear a feather boa and a Sabrina Carptener-esque glittery bodysuit and garterbelts; due to his impotence and grooming tendencies, he would 100% appeal to the ladies and love pole dancing. Threesomes would be common if you go all the way, seeing as he's, y'know, impotent, but he'd be just as passionate. He'd butter you up; call you gorgeous, baby doll, sweetness, and will call himself a dirty whore in return for daring to soil you. He'd be submissive as fuck, grinding against your shoes trying to get off. Degrade him, it's what he wants.

Coyle, obviously, would appeal to both sexes; mean cop in a bralette and black lacy panties with boots, sunglasses and cop hat? Give him handcuffs and a crop and this fucker will have the audience in shambles. Let him grind against the pole and give him a minute, he'll have money stuffed in every single article of clothing he has on. Unlike Franco he'd def be a dominant, no matter the sex. Obviously he'll have something electric on his person. Nothing that can kill, but something that can pack a punch.

Gooseberry is loved by all, but especially by the men; her mother shtick is a delight to those with mommy issues, and she makes the most dominant of men quiver and offer themselves to her. She wears a bridal robe and garterbelts like the queen she is, and only the luckiest of patron gets to undress her. Of course Dr. Futterman is right there with her - scolding everybody he sees! - but it makes her even more addictive. Franco may own the joint but she's the one that takes the calls and manages everything.

Would you be a customer? 🤭

[kerubimcrepin]

Crepinlore and the 30-50 random games 90% of fandom has never heard about

This post, like everything else about this blog, is very self-indulgent. I discovered many things during its making, and I simply can't not share. So, let's begin with something you likely have literally never heard about, and go to more popular things from there:

KROSMASTER ARENA 3D

Krosmaster arena online was a video game it seems nobody played, and honestly, I am mentioning it here because I fear that if I don't document it, it will disappear, and it will turn out that it was simply a vision I had, as if in a David Lynch movie. Evaporating, like tears in rain.

I don't think anyone ripped/tried to rip/found a way to rip the models from it — and considering the fact they're pretty... mobile ad-core, not much may have been lost.

Anyway, here's Keke beating the shit out of some guy.

Wakfu Les Gardiens

Joris appears in the quest "The Tree of Life" of this game, which, as far as I'm aware, was updated in time with Wakfu episodes.

Even back then, Ankama knew that 1. Joris is very sus and 2. you cannot let him get close to you during a battle, or it's OVER.

It's all very cute.

There is something interesting I wanna say about this sprite, actually:

An alternate version of it exists, made as a concept for the Dofus MMO. I am assuming it was Juien Druant elaborating on the ways Joris might look in the game. The first two designs are: baby Joris (probably not used because he looks too young to be a 200 year old man...) and Welsh & Shedar 60yo Joris. They were combined to make the iconic Dofus MMO-era 200yo Joris design.

I'm quite sure that this sprite references the Les Gardiens one very heavily.

One More Gate: A Wakfu Legend

The first game in this list that actually has implications for real lore, and yet its plot is literally "it was all a dream that Oropo was having while inside the Eliacube"

For this reason, the events of this game are not entirely reliable — but are probably based in some way on the memories Oropo has.

The main contribution this game has to Crepinlore is a third Crepin, who might be an ancient ancestor of the brothers, whom Oropo met and remembered, some sort of cousin, or he might be based entirely on fiction, and inspired by Kerubim (though ehhh I severely doubt Oropo would care so much about him that he'd hallucinate a guy like him within Eliacube's fake world).

I really want to headcanon that the events of the game are based on something he really experienced, waaay before forming the brotherhood. But that's just my brain disaeses.

Here we can see the store itself.

Krosmaga

I saved the best for the last — Krosmaga.

A video of the casts of Dofus and Wakfu beating the shit out of each other

There are characters besides Atcham, Joris, and Kerubim in this game — Julith, Jahash, Lou... But I choose to concentrate on my favorite three ones. Or I will die fr.

If this Ecaflip gives the impression of constantly having a bad hair day, it's precisely because he doesn't have any! Brother of Kerubim Crépin, Atcham is fiercely jealous of the man he considers his worst enemy. And how could he not be, when not only does he occupy the prestigious position of Ecaflip's favorite son, but also displays his dense, silky fur without any modesty or sensitivity?

Here are his three forms:

I'm.,. unwell about the white one. I have to draw Atcham in a Bontarian getup one of these days.

They're really giving a fight to this Joris costume recolor from a Christmas event in one of the MMOs... (Now I want to see Kerubim in red too!)

On topic of Joris,

Adopted son of Kerubim Crépin, Joris is a curious and mischievous little boy. His favorite pastime is listening to the childhood adventures of his beloved "Papycha". And when he's too busy serving customers in his antique store, he's off playing with his best friend Lilotte! An avid boufbowl player and fan of Khan Karkass, Joris also hopes to become a star of the horned ball. While his destiny may already be mapped out on the stadium pitch, his origins are much less clear… But the good thing about not knowing where you come from is that you can imagine anything! For the little boy, there's no doubt: his parents were great boufbowl players, and it doesn't matter if it's true or not!

Here are his alternative forms:

I LOVE THE WAY HIS ADULT SELF IS DRAWN IN THIS GAME... I'm insane.

And now, last but not least: Kerubim.

Judging by his adventures, Kerubim seems to have had more than 9 lives! From small-time opera rat, to Bontarian police officer, to lawyer: the least we can say is that during his youth, the man Joris calls his Papycha never stopped working! So much so that today, the owner of the antique store Aux Trésors de Kerubim takes advantage of his free time to purr quietly in his armchair, or to tell his adopted son about his past adventures. Past? Well, not quite! Because when the terrible witch Julith arrives to retrieve Jahash's Ivory Dofus, and seems intent on attacking Joris, the old tomcat doesn't hesitate to get in her way. With Kerubim, there's no age limit to being a hero!

Once again, it is confirmed that the store's name s literally "Aux Trésors de Kerubim". Sorry, I'm insane about the name of the show being the name of the store.

And his alternative forms:

He's beautiful.

[makeshiftstory]

Name: Calliope Macabre Alias: Cali and Cavity Queen Species: Thylacine Age: 24 Gender: Female  Fur/hair color: Golden yellow with cinnamon brown markings and often changes her hair color with hair chalks.  Eye color: Bright blue with hot pink pupils (Epsilon Incorporated make all their genetic creations have colored pupils to tell them apart from customers that have used cosmetic genetic therapy) Height: 5’1" Weight: unknown 

Strengths: Is actually an insanely good doctor, fast paced thinking, highly personable, easy to work with, can function extremely well under pressure, optimistic, and pretty earnest. 

Flaws: Hyper as they come, is pretty oblivious to flirting or romantic advancements, can be impulsive, talks way too fast when excited, can be pretty loud, and the virus she carries if unmasked. 

Likes: Bright colors, candy (this one is an absolute sugar fiend), stickers, making friends, games, ghost stories (ironic given Cali’s aesthetics), medical science, helping people, and her job.  

Dislikes: Being a plague carrier, clowns (they’re horrifying), her mask being forcibly removed, vinegar, accidentally infecting a person, and the possibility of the virus mutating into something far worse.

Info: Standing at 5’4” in platform sneakers (she is 5’1” without the platforms), Cali is a fairly bizarre sight to behold in her plague doctor getup to the point no one really has ever seen her face and her love for very brightly colorful things is incredibly well known. Her hair is tied up in fluffed up pigtails with brightly colored bubble hair ties and plastic hair clips. Cali wears a modified cat ear hat that she can pull her pigtails through and is rarely seen without some sort of knee length skirt of some sort (She likes the really fluffy ones). Cali’s mask is a modified plague doctor mask littered with colorful and fanciful stickers that keeps the disease she carries inside while pumping pure oxygen to her that is scented like cotton candy. Due to being pumped with nothing BUT pure oxygen and her highly sugary diet, this has made Calli pretty hyperactive and overly happy about everything. Clothing wise, Cali wears a long sleeved rainbow striped turtleneck top with a hot pink hoodie, a fluffy knee length star print skirt, striped leggings to match the turtle neck, and blue gloves to the point no one has seen her skin either. In short, Cali is a walking, talking Lisa Frank fever dream of boundless hyper active happiness and joy. Growing up, Cali always wanted to be a doctor like her mother Miranda and when she graduated high school, that’s exactly what Calliope applied for when picking out her college. During her college experience, Cali did work as a volunteer nurse to gain better experience for the future job she had in mind.

Calliope is an illegal genetic experiment made about twenty four years ago by this BioTech company, Epsilon Incorporated, that works on biological weaponry and various things sold on the intergalactic black market. Without the mask and the cat-eared hat, Calliope is an anthropomorphic thylacine hybrid of some sort with blue colored eyes and golden tiger like markings(it is possible she has some human genetic material in there, but who’s really able to say?) Due to how Calliope was made, a hybridized disease was formed inside of Cali that she is immune to but can totally spread to others. In short, Cali initially was made as a living bio weapon, the problem was that the disease is relatively harmless causing only hallucinations, lasts only twelve hours, and that’s about it. Six or so months into life, Cali was taken by Miranda, one of the scientists in the group back when she was still known as Frieda Hoppes. To sum things up in a neat package, Frieda and her wife ran off with an infant Calliope and completely changed their identities to avoid being found by the highly questionable company along with moving planets. Since then, Cali’s mothers have made sure every part of Cali is covered to avoid identification along with providing Cali a happier childhood than she would’ve had beforehand. Cali knows some details, but not a lot and is pretty alright with the situation though she still takes care to avoid identification now that she’s out of the house to live her young adult life. Due to how short Cali’s tail is, it's easy to hide under the fluffier skirts she owns, especially if she has the tail hidden under one of the skirt’s layers. 

Saturated optimism as bright as the clothing she wears, Cali is pretty much an extreme version of little Miss Sunshine. Cali is pretty much this little ball of easy going and happy energy that it is nearly vomit inducing just from how much she exudes. There is a lot of energy in Cali’s speech pattern and actions, possibly from the eternal sugar high she is on along with being on solid oxygen her whole life. No one is sure what Cali is like without the sugar or high oxygen consumption, though some wager she would considerably be much calmer than her current hyperactive state of being. Either that or that long fabled crash period before fully adjusting to the calmer demeanor after being removed by either one element. 

If there were any form of insecurity in regards to Cali, it’d likely be her height (5’1”) as more often than not, Cali will always gravitate towards higher platform shoes to get that little height boost. When it comes to interacting with other people, Cali is very much the person that views everyone as a new friend to be made and is pretty chatty. Ironically, despite the hyperactive nature, Cali does have excellent bedside manners for the medical field. Cali has a very strong habit as though it is instinctual to pop stickers on people as a way of showing affection. There is one thing that does unnerve Cali, weirdly enough despite having similar aesthetics, are clowns.

Theme songs is the cover/remix of ‘Shelter’ by Lollia: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s8TPZkTndNc and ‘We Built This City’ by Starship: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BsCBGsKSW4g

[akehoshimystar]

Riku SR

Nadeshiko Break

Part 1

Ito: (I'll match this bouquet with this frame...)

I moved to the center of the floor and looked at the frames I had just put up on the wall at the back of the venue.

Ito: (It doesn't seem to be tilted. The balance from all angles is... Yeah, perfect.)

(As for the rest….)

Comparing the interior blueprint with the current decoration, I checked again and again to see if everything is going as planned and if there's anything missing.

???: Working hard, huh?

Ito: Eh? Ah... Hello!

I turned to that voice and saw Riku-san newly dressed in the outfit for this event.

Ito: I see that you’ve changed.

Riku: Yup. Not too shabby, aren’t I? ……Well, let's put that aside for now.

Here you go. This is from the customer over there.

And with that, he handed me a small tray with some hot tea and individually wrapped cookies on it. Following Riku-san’s gaze, there was Mao-san who’s also wearing the outfit for the event.

Mao: It was, in fact, Riku-san himself who prepared it.

Riku: Wasn’t it Mao who suggested bringing something to Ito at the convenience store?

Mao: “If we don't make her take a break, she'll forget to catch a break and keep on exhausting herself”. I recall it was you who said that line.

Ito: (I see... What's on this tray is their kindness.)

Just noticing that warmed my heart.

Ito: Thank you.

Even so…... I must have looked so desperate that it worried you...

Riku: What are you talking about? It's great to be passionate about something.

Mao: Did the pressure of your first event get to you?

Ito: Well... I don’t think I can deny that.

(There is no doubt that I have been nervous ever since the project was launched.)

Riku: Everything is a trial and error process at the beginning. It's inevitable to get nervous.

But if you don't take a break from time to time, you might run out of energy before the real thing.

Ito: If that happens, it'll be all for nothing.

Let me express my gratitude for your kindness.

Riku: It’s nice that you’re honest.

Part 2

Ito: (Yup, my energy is all charged now.)

As I stretched, the energy I replenished spread to every corner of my body. After enjoying the break that Riku-san and Mao-san had given me, I continued to check the venue.

Ito: (I think I've already finished most of what I can do today)

I was momentarily relieved that things were going well, but I stopped when I noticed a small anomaly in the flower decoration in one corner.

Ito: (This one... It’s missing a petal)

Mao: Oh, I knew you would notice that.

Ito: Eh?

Mao-san, who somehow ended up next to me, did a small shrug and smiled.

Mao: I'm impressed that you spotted it.

Ito: It may be hard to tell, but I still want to do something about it...

Mao: Yeah. I thought you'd say that.

Ito: Maybe there's a spare, I'll go check.

Mao: Oh, wait a sec.

Ito: Yes?

Mao: From that customer over there.

With his neatly aligned fingers, Mao-san respectfully pointed in the direction where Riku-san came carrying a single flower.

Ito: Could that be...?

Riku: I found the missing flower when I was walking around the venue earlier. I already prepared a replacement.

As Riku-san explained, he quickly replaced the missing flower with a new one.

Ito: Wow... Simply perfect.

Mao: I expect nothing less from Riku-san. 

Riku: Wasn’t it Mao who told me where to prepare that?

Hmm? What is it, Ito? I'll get the wrong idea if you keep staring at me like that. 

Ito: Well, how should I put it...

The way you two behaved was so smart and cool that I couldn't take my eyes off you.

This is a perfect example of how to work.

Riku: Is it just me or does it feel like you’re emphasizing the fact that it's work-related?

Mao: Don't worry, Riku-san. it’s not just your imagination.

Ito: Ahaha. I need to work harder to be able to ease up and work smartly like both of you.

Oh, it may be a bit late to say this, but Riku-san, Mao-san….

You two look so good in that getup.

Mao: Thank you.

Riku: If Ito butters me up like that, maybe I’ll wear it outside of the event as well.

Mao: Sure, sure.

Riku: Now then, let's push ourselves a little more to make Ito's first event a success.

Ito: Yes! Thank you very much.

Surrounded by the smiles and encouragement of Riku-san’s and Mao-san’s…. I felt that the stiffness from my shoulders had been lifted.

[villianblr]

there are some DAMN interesting villains in this world

[i-used-to-wear-the-fedora]

Steddie Fix-It AU, Deja-Vu

Walking into the formerly burnt down mall again, now completely untouched by fire, was strange. It was like a strange sense of deja vu. Eddie's eyes darted around from the stores to the people walking around. People he knew that died in the fire a week from now. The metalhead found himself pinching the skin of his inner hand just to make sure this wasn't a dream. The pain felt real. He could hear the boring elevator music the mall always played, smell the pretzels from the Orange Julius downstairs....it all felt real. Eddie remembered the one time he tried too much datura and woke up two days later from the weirdest fever dream of his life, but even that didn't compare to what he was feeling. Eddie was so lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice where he was going until he bumped into something.

"Hey, watch where you're going!" Or someone.

"Oh, crap-sorry, I..." Eddie looked up, trailing off when he saw a now familiar face. "Steve?"

Steve Harrington, in the flesh. Eddie was too surprised to even use just his last name. It was like staring at a ghost. Before Vecna, they never really talked to each other. Every now and then, they met up for a drug deal, but that was it. He didn't know anything about Steve before that. If everything was just a dream, that probably meant he still didn't know anything about Steve. Looking the other teen over, Eddie had to stop himself from snorting despite the confusion. Steve Harrington "King of Hawkins High" (was that former now? Eddie couldn't remember if he was still in school at this point) stood in front of him wearing a ridiculous sailor costume. His famous hair was currently hidden under a little sailor hat that completed the look.

"Ugh, do I know you?" Steve asked, and Eddie blanked. Right. Okay, so he didn't remember him. Staring blankly at the other young man, unsure what to say when a look of recognition crossed Steve's face. "Oh! Munson, right? Didn't recognize you without your getup." The record store didn't officially have a dress code, but Eddie distinctly remembered the store manager pulling him aside and saying he had to look "less intimidating" around customers. That meant no jewelry, his hair had to be tied back, and he wasn't allowed to talk about "Satanic" music. (According to the pastor who regularly came into their store to drop off religious pamphlets, Prince was Satanic. Prince.)

"Yeah, I almost didn't recognize you either. What are you even wearing? You look like you just stepped out of the Candyland board game." Eddie snickered. Steve's face flushed slightly as he struggled for words.

"I-yeah, well, ugh, you look like a girl." Eddie tried not to roll his eyes at the lame comeback and instead winked at him.

"Aw, you really think so? Am I pretty girl?" Eddie fluttered his eyelashes dramatically. Steve's face flushed even redder as he gaped a moment before practically running in the opposite direction of Eddie. The metalhead smirked as he watched the other boy retreat into the nearby Scoops Ahoy. He almost forgot how easy it was to bother straight guys when you even jokingly acted flirty. Scoops Ahoy. Eddie forgot Steve worked there before the mall burned down. The teen made a mental note to stop there on his break to continue his torment. In the meantime...

"Where the hell have you been?"

Entering the small record store, Eddie was greeted by Vicki Carmichael. The younger teen stood behind the counter with an annoyed look and crossed arms.

"Sorry, my alarm didn't go off." Eddie already had a list of excuses to pull from as a chronic procrastinator. Heading over to the time clock and quickly punching in, Eddie made his way over to the ticked off girl. "I was only fifteen minutes late."

"Ugh, you're lucky we're short staffed. Tammy called in, and I'm going to break, so you're on your own for the next half hour." Eddie couldn't object before Vicki was already out the door.

"Damn it." Eddie muttered under his breath. At least the store wasn't that busy. A few kids were in the corner looking at the new Michael Jackson album, and an old guy was browsing their discount shelf. Easy enough. Reaching under the counter, Eddie dug around for his issue of Kerrang when he noticed a person walking into the store.

"Welcome to Tower Records. Can I help you find anything?" Eddie asked, attempting a cheerful customer service voice and failing miserably.

"Yeah, do you have the newest Slayer album?" That voice. Looking up, Eddie saw one Billy Hargrove. Still alive and staring directly at him.

[arcanescholxr]

Dwight grunted as he shoved the boxes of unopened books back into storage. He usually ordered a lot, set out what could fit on the shelves and put everything back in his storage. It worked well for the most part, if a certain book was flying off the shelf he didn’t need to worry about ordering it in just yet. There would also be at least two more boxes in storage that he could use before he needed to place an order. The problem with this was the constant moving of boxes.

A simple solution would be to use magic to move the boxes to save time and Dwight’s back. But the time that boxes came happened during business hours where multiple people were in the store. He couldn’t risk it. Dwight was usually red in the face by the time he was done pushing the boxes back into storage, and he always declined help from customers.

“Hey Dwight, you need a hand with those?”

“No thank you, I’ve got it.”

He most certainly did not.

Dwight stopped all of his shoving when he heard a voice call out to him. He turned his attention over to perhaps one of the most curious person he’d ever seen. The man was in a cowboy getup and strangely enough, he had a tail! Dwight looked at the man for a second, in awe, before remembering that it was October. The closer it got to Halloween, the more people went about in their costumes. Dwight managed a friendly smile despite the breathless look on his face.

“Oh thank you!” Dwight chuckled. The question caught him off guard. With the way the man was dressed, he figured he wanted a book on cowboys or horses. Magic has two meanings to him now, humans doing sleight of hand tricks and people like him being able to cast spells. Since this was the human realm, he figured it was the first one. “Certainly, follow me.” Dwight motioned for the other one to follow.

They got to one shelf where Dwight and pulled out a book with the title; ‘Magic Tricks for Beginners!’ The design had a top hat for magicians, a deck of cards and a dove in action.”I have this one, will this work? It has pictures to show you how to do the tricks.”

@arcanescholxr LIKED FOR A STARTER!

Butch had only recently been released from a magic book he had been trapped in for over 100 years and the world today was nothing like he knew it back in his time. Everything was different and confusing and a little bit scary if he was being completely honest; it took him a good few weeks to warm up to idea of even exploring the city as he was coping with the loss of literally everything else in his life.

Dressed in his usual cowboy gear, he stuck out like a sore thumb among everyone apart of this century as he strolled down the side walk. He ignores weird stares he gets, his focus being on the buildings he passes. It’s not until he comes upon a bookstore that he actually stops to consider.

Books? Now those made sense! And if he was lucky, they would be picture books too!

Butch enters the bookstore, peering around curiously and taking in the interior. It had been a long long time since he had been in a library, let alone a book store.

“Nice place ya got here! Fancy.” The cowboy observes upon spotting another person. His spaded imp tail sways curiously behind him. “Got anythin’ on magic? Preferably with pictures.”

[yandere-sins]

The Carnival Collaboration

My first piece (1 of 3 lol) for The Carnival Collaboration by @demonlamb666​! I couldn’t fit my idea with any fandom character so I used my lovely boy Rhys for it and definitely had a lot of fun! ♥ I always forget how fun OCs are until I write for them! He got a bit of a development here to fit his role better, so I hope you guys will still like him! Please enjoy!

Warnings: SUGGESTIVE CONTENT/LEMON, Yandere (in the later parts), Reader has a midlife crisis, PDA, Lots of touching and body contact, Wordcount: 3428

Chapter I - Distraction

Carnival—a place to fulfill all your desires!

Well, most of them at least. As you made your way through the stands left and right, you took in the sweet smell of candied nuts, churros, and cotton candy hanging in the air. The excitement of the kids screaming and running from one attraction to the next was prickling on your skin as the memories of your childhood spent at this carnival warmed your heart.

It wasn’t every day you got to go home to your parents and relive something you’ve been enjoying a lot as a child. Now an adult, you moved away, started your own life, studied, got a job. You moved on from naive pleasures, as were these events. Friends would invite you out to have fun every now and then, but it rarely was something as exciting as the carnival you still remembered from the past.

Booming voices welcomed you closer to their games, which - at your age - you knew were rigged and barely winnable. Still, you looked at the operators of the stands, smiling from ear to ear in their fun getups as they reeled in paying customers. Most of the time, it were the parents of the excited children who spent money, but you also saw couples trying their best to win prizes for each other and teenage friend groups discussing what to do next. It seemed like every kind of person was hanging out here, making you feel less awkward, alone, and seemingly out of place as you were.

Truth be told, when you heard the carnival was back in town, you laughed about it, thinking it was just a silly kid’s thing. Still, the longer the evening at your parent’s house went on, sitting on the couch and watching boring television shows together, the more you felt the urge to do something. Get out, be on your feet, explore. Really get your mind off things.

After all these years since you last visited the carnival, it was pretty impressive to see they were still doing well. A circus had joined them, as well as many other new attractions. They even had a small Ferris wheel now and bumper cars. Nothing that was drawing you in, but people were queuing up in front of the rides, and you felt happy for the carnival people to have a lot of traction.

With a heavy sigh, you reminded yourself not to think so transactionally. Your mind immediately slipped into dangerous territory as you tried to hypothetically figure out how well business was going for them. Your job was one of the reasons that you decided to come visit your family, rarely ever getting the chance to these days. You knew it was normal for children to leave home, move away, start their own families and work, but just last week, you sat in your office, looking at your work computer, when you realized you hadn’t even called home in months. These days, everything was only about numbers and profit, and you were sick and tired of it.

Life had become a drag, you couldn’t deny it. Get up, brush your teeth, drink coffee, work, come home, have dinner, sleep. All the hobbies you once had, passions and dreams, were neatly packed up in your moving boxes still. You never even opened them since you moved to the big city. Back then, you had become incredibly busy trying to build your life. You imagined that things would change once you settled, opened yourself up to new job opportunities, and organized your free time. But instead of the bright, sparkling future, you envisioned, you felt trapped between responsibilities and your job. You hadn’t met new people in years! And the old ones were slowly forgetting about you since you never had time to go out with them.

Before you knew it, you were burned out, craving things you couldn’t have and pitying yourself for it.

Even when you came home, one of the first things you heard was how proud everyone was of you for making it. For getting a good job and working hard so you could afford a - small, and a little moldy - apartment in the city. How could you break the news to them that your visit wasn’t a planned family reunion, but you, trying to flee from your depressing life for a while? That you were, in fact, not happy at all about the measly salary you had to live off on and that you’ve been eating the same kind of recipe for weeks to no end?

No, you couldn’t do it.

Admitting that what you chose to do wasn’t fulfilling or exciting you as much as you always thought it would was hard, no question. Almost as hard as sitting next to your dad on the couch, watching boring ass shows, and having him point out that the people depicted on the television weren’t as much of a big deal as they thought. Actors - or creative jobs in general - had no worth in your small-town, hands-on kind of family. They weren’t too happy when you decided to leave the town to pursue greater things, preferring if you had stayed and taken over the family’s craft store. But here you were, back in town after finding nothing but disappointment in the city, unwilling to admit that maybe they had been right.

Taking a deep breath, you held back some tears as you stood in the middle of the long pathway between the stands, leading up to the circus and around the carnival site. People were walking by, laughing, enjoying themselves. And then, there was you: a complete downer. You came out here to have fun and get your mind off things, not to be more miserable than you were in the city or at your parents’ place!

Surprisingly, the only sound that could break through to you in the cacophony of voices and jingles was a whistle. Not the shouting of the stand owners around you. Not the squeals of delight and screams of the children who had too much sugar. No, it was a simple whistle calling for your attention, short and directed at you, that made you lift your chin, looking around you.

“Hey there, Cutie,” someone called out to you, and your eyes locked on the face behind the voice, your body twisting into the direction. A young man who couldn’t be older than you waved at you, his lips turning into a grin as your eyes finally met. Brown curls framed a pretty face, a red, round clown’s nose glued to his real one. He was standing behind the counter of one of those throw-a-ball-at-cans stalls, inviting you closer. You had already passed by it while in thought, but now you noticed the stand was barely visited by other people. That, and the random person calling out from it, intrigued you. Not least because his gentle, yellow eyes were beckoning you closer as if he was just as captivated by you.

Looking side to side before turning, partly checking no one was planning on going to the stand, or you’d run into anyone, you stepped closer, curious. Watching you approach with a sense of satisfaction, the man ducked down briefly, pulling up three heavy balls used for the game and placing them on the counter before you. He presented them to you with an inviting gesture, still smiling from ear to ear now that he had your attention.

“It’s bad manners to whistle at people,” you reminded him, glancing behind him at the rows of cans neatly stacked. No doubt the bottommost ones were drilled into the board underneath them to make it impossible to win big prizes from this stall, even though they tried to hide the scam. Not that you wanted to win anything. You didn’t even want to play. But you also didn’t know what exactly the man wanted from you, other than play his game.

“Ah, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend, but…” Taking a seat on the counter next to you, the operator leaned towards you, and the smell of cologne wafted from him, earthy and warm. Like wood and spices. You couldn’t help taking a deep breath, the scent enveloping you gently, drawing you towards him, as the guy continued. “You looked a bit upset standing there. I thought you could need some distraction.”

Giving him a half-hearted smile, you looked between him, the balls, and the cans as he invited you with a broad gesture of his hand to throw one. He didn’t even ask you to pay up, but perhaps this was just a way to draw in more customers if they saw you play or kill the boredom of not having any customers otherwise.

“And you think hitting tin cans will help make aaaaaaall my worries go away?” you questioned sarcastically.

The man’s lips parted, showing his teeth as he grinned, hearing your reply, seemingly amused by your feistiness. Picking up one of the balls, he threw it in the air a couple of times, catching it in the same hand before holding it out to you. “Did for me. My tin cans solved all my problems. They might do the same for you?”

Even though this was definitely a strange situation, you took the ball he gave you. By all means, you appreciated the distraction, even if it was some stranger and you, playfully bickering and throwing balls at tin cans. Aiming at the center of the cans, you focused your throw, hoping to perform well despite it being just a kids’ game. It was good to know you hadn’t lost your bite yet when it came to challenges. You sure loved the tin toss when you were a kid, always wanting to win the biggest stuffed animal possible. But now, believing in the reality of never being able to win since it was rigged, it was kind of silly how easily excitable you still were.

There was just something about this stand that really got to you.

Just as you expected, you were able to knock off the top one and one can in the second row. But while the pyramid tumbled a little, nothing more happened. It was silly. Silly enough to get a little upset about it. Looking back at the guy, you noticed his eyes never moved from you, even when you were focused on the game, the corners of his lips curling higher as you looked back at him, now a little flustered that he was watching your fail so intently.

“I actually feel worse now,” you admitted, trying to laugh off the embarrassment.

“Oh, don’t,” he purred somewhat comfortingly. It felt like he was absolving you of your embarrassment, reminding you it was not that big of a deal. All of a sudden, the man lifted his legs over the counter, letting them hang down next to you before jumping to the ground. Standing on your level now, you noticed how tall he was, looking down at you with a mix of gentleness and… something you couldn’t determine yet. He was much more handsome than you had noticed at first glance, strong arms with defined muscles, giving his body a tender but muscular look. Wearing only a vest instead of a proper shirt, you could see the outlines on his chest before he suddenly disappeared behind you. Those big, strong arms wrapped around you just a second later, and you tensed in surprise, unsure what to make of the situation.

“See, there’s a trick to it, Sweetheart.”

Before you knew what he was doing, he pressed another ball back into your hand, guiding that hand upwards with his own. His chest pressed up to your back, your hips snuggly sitting against his. With the other hand, he pinned your free hand to the counter, urging you to lean forward a little as he lifted your throwing arm into the air and in position.

Not only were you completely enveloped by his body, but the scent of his cologne was also stronger now, tickling your senses again. It was hard to breathe in anything but this man, alongside the warmth of his body against yours, making you melt. His touch was gentle but no less assertive than the rest of his body, sending goosebumps over your skin, all while you felt his muscles move with your body as he directed your throw. This was more contact than you had with anyone in a long time, the years of not dating since college now showing you exactly how needy you were for this. You felt incredibly greedy for wanting more from this stranger, but he probably wasn’t aware of how strongly you missed being so close to someone. It was weird that you were so willing to get riled up by this stranger, but at the same time, it was exactly the distraction you had wanted. What was life without a bit of fun, right? Nonetheless because his scent was slowly turning you on with just how tempting it was.

When he said, “Now!” your body didn’t question his instruction, reacting instinctively to him, letting go of the ball in your hand, and… hitting all of the cans. The crashing sound of the tin cans falling to the ground while you stared in disbelief was only drowned out by the chuckle in your ear as the operator closed the distance to praise you, “Now that was an excellent throw, Darling.”

You instantly felt weak in the knees, hoping he couldn’t feel your body relying on him for support. Thankfully, your ears were covered by hair as you felt them grow hot after he whispered the sweet praise for the throw into them, rendering you flustered. It made you feel like a teenager again, flirting with the cute upperclassman. “Feeling better already?” His voice - a honeyed mumble - was still coming from right beside your ear. But you could hear the grin on his face all while you felt his body grind against yours from behind as he waited for your reply.

Taking a barely hideable deep breath, you hoped you wouldn’t stutter as you turned your head in his direction, glancing at him from over your shoulder. It had become quite obvious that he was enjoying this, so it was only fair if you teased him right back. He watched you squirm in his hold, feeling it as you pressed your buttcheeks against his crotch challengingly, first surprised that you’d play along, then grinning knowingly.

“That went really fast. I think I need another demonstration?” you purred innocently, all while brushing up against him with obvious intention.

“Of course, Sugar,” he agreed, wasting no time pressing you against the stall’s counter, making sure there was not an inch of space between your bodies. While you took a sharp breath, he ran his fingertips along your arm and down to your hands, both of his hands gripping yours from above suddenly, lacing your fingers. “Pay attention now,” he ordered assertively, teasing you with his voice ringing through your skull.

“Lift.” He stretched your arm high in the air, bringing it up and behind his own head, your shoulder close enough to his lips that you thought he was going to kiss it. Instead, you felt the vibration of his voice against your skin, making you tense as budding arousal made itself known between your legs. For a moment, he remained in this position, feeling your bodies breathe against each other, you so perfectly pinned between him and the counter.

“Focus on where you want to throw.” How? you wondered, his voice being the only thing that was captivating you right now, stealing all the focus as you wished he’d murmur it more into your ear. All you wanted was to lean in further to him, a complete stranger, and feel more of his body all over yours. This was less of a demonstration of how to throw balls than it was a demonstration of how good his body fit against yours.

“And throw!” Saying that, he directed you to lower yourself into your knees, ground his hips against yours, and jolted your bodies upwards until you were standing on your tiptoes, leaning over the counter. The bulge in his pants fit right in between your ass cheeks, letting you feel the delicious length you were dealing with as you let go of the ball at his command.

Unsurprisingly for you - even after the thorough instructions - you didn’t hit the cans as planned, the ball bouncing off the back of the stall, while the man let out a teasing, “Oh… That’s too bad,” clearly still smiling as he said that. Placing his hands on your hips for a moment, he pulled you back against him while your breath hitched. You felt like you were on a rollercoaster of emotions, pressing your legs together tightly to somewhat get a hold on yourself. “I’d have loved to reward you for that throw, Buttercup.”

Letting go of you, you whipped around, holding on to the counter behind you as the guy laughed, putting his hands in the air innocently as he walked to the side of the stall, letting himself in through the door again. “But alas,” he sighed, leaning down to collect the balls you threw and putting them away.

“All I have for you is this rose.” Pulling forth one of the cheapest prizes, a plastic flower, he slipped it behind your ear, leaning on the counter, supported by his arms. “But I’m sure I at least got your mind off things, right?”

With your heart still racing, you tried to keep the eye contact, the brilliant, citrine glow of his not being subtle about how much he enjoyed this too, as it drilled into you. You could tell he was a terrible tease, but you had to admit he wasn’t wrong. At least for a little bit, he made you forget about your worries, even if you found it hard to admit. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Tin Toss Boy?” you challenged him, keeping your chin high and proud, his smile growing wider with excitement.

“It’s Rhys. But if my little demonstration wasn’t enough to help you with your worries, feel free to drop by again tomorrow. I’ll be here aaaall weekend, happy to help.”

Winking at you, you couldn’t help but laugh for the first time since the exchange started. When you told your parents you’d be going to the carnival, this wasn’t what they thought you were doing. In fact, it wasn’t what you thought you’d do that day either. Chuckling, you took the rose from behind your ear, twirling the plastic stem between your fingers.

“Maybe I will, Rhys,” you made an open promise to him, turning to walk away as you heard him take a sharp breath before letting out a small, pleasurable grumble. You could feel his eyes on you, scanning you from head to toe, and it made you feel even hotter, hearing and feeling that he liked what he saw.

Looking back over your shoulder, your eyes met as you heard him say, “God, I hope.”

When you returned home, your parents had already gone to sleep, the house quiet and dark. You were still holding the rose in your hands, twirling it before your nose again, still faintly smelling his cologne on it. A draft of the scent and your body instantly remembered how his chest felt against your back, the vibrations of his voice in your ear teasing long-forgotten desires inside of you, and most of all, the hard resistance in his pants as you pressed against his crotch.

No matter how strange and intrusive this stranger had been, you couldn’t help that he set off a lot of neediness inside you, making you ache for him between your legs and even deep inside your core. You had never clicked with someone like Rhys before. Someone confident, eager, and dominant with what he wanted. It flattered you beyond imagination that he wanted you of all people; certainly, he’d have enough options with his dashing looks. But you remembered the hunger festering in his eyes as he looked after you, the thought better than sex itself. Maybe he was bored, perhaps just a little weird, but you’d be damned if you didn’t return for another taste of adventure you had with him the next day.

However, that night, you could only dream about what he’d demonstrate to you next.

[idanwyn-et-al]

(XIV||22-18): Lurid. (Extra Credit!)

(Continued from here.) (♪)

Having a guest over was always a little strange for Oakmoss. A customer was one thing; if they were there to purchase a card reading, a tincture, a guided mushroom trip, she knew what to expect, how to conduct herself. The first time she and Miovont had met, he was a customer; here, in this erstwhile lair of hers that didn’t even belong to her, he shared her pixie apples and gazelle jerky for breakfast, washed down with dark syrah. They even helped one another shower beneath the gentle falls that served as her door; casual intimacy that they both pretended was something mundane, when below the surface it was anything but.

She hadn’t felt this way about anyone since Daníval, the father of three of her children. The other seven had different fathers; not at all uncommon for her kind who chose the traditional way of life. He had been a good mate, and had sought her out in Kisne three times. Later, he bent Veena traditions to visit her and the children she bore him, bringing them gifts he’d woven with delicate care from his post in the mountain forests. His glacial-water eyes were always warm when he looked upon them, his summer-sky hair full of beaded braids swooping in a caress upon his children’s shoulders when he crouched down to listen to their tales. Even now, almost a hundred years later, the thought of him stirred a gentle warmth within her heart; she hadn’t heard from him in decades, and didn’t have the courage to try to find out if he still lived.

Instead of seeking closeness with Daníval or any of her ten grown children, she’d fled from Othard, leaving them all behind. It irritated her that Miovont’s presence dredged up these memories from the peat bog of her past; especially because it made her have to wonder if she knew what love really was. Devotion, she understood, perhaps better than most; but love? She feared it whenever it grew close, like a great shadowy beast stalking through the wood that she hoped would pass her by.

Fortunately, she and Miovont had a common purpose. Duty, too, was something she knew well, even if others labored to see it. Everything she did was in service to her Goddess; to right the balance, to take back what was taken. To give, too, in equal measure; to never lose sight of the day-to-day symmetry in favor of the big picture.

As the pair walked through the caves, she in her summoner’s garb and he in the same too-clean getup from the day before, she pretended not to notice the local Duskwights who skittered forth from their hiding places to exchange information with him. Associates, he called them, reluctant to use the word ‘spies’; it seemed they supported his efforts in culling corrupt nobility. So long as they kept intruders out of the Allagan facility, she was content to refrain from prying; it pleased her to see that they’d constructed some manner of local ward over the emptiness once covered by the heavy door. Miovont unlocked the ward with an engraved coin; she asked about it, and he demurred, which she respected. Oakmoss had many secrets of her own, and knew that those like her often kept such confidences to protect others more than to deceive others for personal gain. Some of her personal deceptions were not strictly necessary, she supposed, but there was fun to consider, too.

Once inside the facility, Oakmoss pulled her eidolon into being, its oranges and golds providing lurid contrast to the dull green and blue lights around the trio. It insisted upon playing one game of tic-tac-toe with Miovont; something he was familiar with, she’d learned, since he had once been the koinonos of another descendant of the Sophic line; Nepenthe Isidoros. Oakmoss could understand why the woman had chosen Miovont for the position of summoner’s guardian; he was discreet, competent, and fully grasped the weight of an oath. He was also easy on the eyes, and had a jovial personality despite the curse that killed him a little more each time he availed himself of its powers.

There was that thought again, that beast stalking the wood; love, or at least companionship. She couldn’t ask him to swear to her; she wouldn’t. Comfortable allies were one thing; the deep bond required between a summoner and her koinonos was something Oakmoss quailed away from.

As Fotiá and Miovont’s game concluded---a cat game, again; she should really teach it new games---she instructed the eidolon to patrol the hallways as it had before. The Summoner and the Dark Knight examined the forges that could have made his Kulix Sacrae in relative quiet. It was only after he examined the chimerical dragon in its biostasis vessel nearby that he started asking her questions.

A lot of questions. And the Balance demanded she answer them. She knew how to; but she didn’t want to do what she needed to in order to make it happen. The roiling fear grew within her; an even-larger companion to the dread beast of love, of bondings. An oath that had allowed her line to survive as long as they had without resorting to selective breeding like the Isidoros line had.

Oakmoss extracted a few more binding promises from Miovont before giving him the key to what he sought. She could only hope that this time, the program wouldn’t tax her like it had before. That he could show restraint in its usage, though their presence within this facility increased her capabilities. That when she returned to herself, someone would think to share the knowledge she accessed with her, since ‘Oakmoss’ wouldn’t remember it at all.

These were the conditions of the vow her distant foremother took when she encountered the greatest Allagan summoner to ever live: He would allow her line to continue, but they must become part of the Allagan defense network comprised of all the Meracydian summoners that had tried to defeat him.

She hated him. That hatred was passed down in the blood. And yet, he had understood the true nature of a summoner by his end; to pass on the story from master to pupil. To keep the strength of deities alive and in the hands of their worshippers. To protect the lands that gave them life.

“Initiating Sari’s Directive,” said Miovont, the command unraveling her ancient robes, mutating their form

“Executing Sari’s Directive. Port Sigma-Ypsilon-Alpha-Gamma-Alpha, alias unit SJAGA, online.” It was her voice, and it wasn’t. Everything faded to ersatz blue; not like Daníval’s hair or eyes, gentle and natural and pure. The great beasts had come, and she had stepped right into their path.

(Continued here!)

[my-reality-my-rules]

i think i manifested something

so our graduation pictorials are happening this saturday, and I've been so damn worried about what to wear for the creative shot because i was all out of ideas.

i can't do lyanna stark (don't have a blue gown, and i can't order one in time), i can't do morticia addams (same situation, black gown), i can't do MCR's helena (many tears were shed when i realised the dress was custom-made), and i can't even do a captain hook cosplay.

eventually, i planned to settle for an audrey hepburn getup (breakfast at tiffany's), and meant to borrow a black dress from my mother—but to our shared horror, the dress didn't fit. in a strike of pure luck, i remembered she had a pink silk bridesmaid gown.

my first thought had been, oh gods a shae costume and the silk is so flowy, but then realised something even better.

I LOOK LIKE MY HP DR MOM . fuck i am in tears,,, when i say i screamed you can damn well hear me two houses down the road (it's an echoey place here).

the best part is that it's not just the dress. it's complete with the earrings and the makeup—everything except the eye + hair colour. and I'm just,,, kinda freaking out because I've been having dreams of her and that man named thomas gaunt and Ffffffffff

[cantillat-moved]

@pseudomonarkaerenea ❤

❝ You are a lifesaver as always, Kyrie. ❞ his hand ruffled the back of his head in embarrassment. ❝ I should probably ask you to teach me, it is a bit embarrassing.❞ Look at him, mister devil hunter. Nero can fix cars in no time (faster with Nico’s help, granted), to customize his own dear weapon and do the maintenance of all sorts of gadgets and appliances… And yet fixing his clothes were the closest thing to rocket science to him. He’d been avoiding it for a while out of self-consciousness and before Nero knew it there was a pile of buttons that had to be sewn back and not a single socket without a hole was left. Sure, it could be cool in his getup, this charming punk-ish style that he felt so comfortable with, but it could also be a hassle – and even a little pathetic. It was easier to chalk it up to his usual lack of patience towards things that requires him to stay quiet in one place. ❝ You make it look so easy. Hell, pretty much everything you do you make it look easy. I’m impressed. I owe you a ton, thanks.❞

[sweetcathedral]

🖤Hero Academia — Aizawa🖤

Note: I thought I’d post an old work here. Also, b/c I’m seeing a lot of minors migrate to ao3, I’m thinking of switching all my works to here since it’s easier to monitor, which means I’m deleting my ao3.

⚠️: bulge, breeding, somnophilia, cnc

He’s late. Just as you thought, but that’s expected of Pro Heroes and you can’t blame him for being one. You knowingly accepted your common law conditions, so you can’t complain. You reached for your phone hoping to see his name tangled within the notifications.

NekoZawa: late

Was the only message that caught your attention with a little bit of disappointment. Deep down you already knew it’d come to this, but you still can’t help feeling let down a bit. As you were about to change out of your getup a series of sharp knocks startled you, catching you off guard.

“It’s mee!” shouted the familiar voice.

Midnight?!

You rushed to open the door.

“Kayama? You’re ba—,”

“Ahhhh! So cute, so delicate, just youth!” she huffed in excitement at the sight of your longline lace bra and single-ruffled panties.

“Ah! Wai—youth? You know we're not that far in age,” you said, as you try to hide behind the door.

“Please, I'd kill to be 5 years younger, and don’t even try hiding from me. Even though he doesn’t care much about looks this definitely falls within his tastes,”

You blushed at the compliment, wishing it had come out of Aizawa’s mouth instead.

“Anyways,” she continued, “how about some bubble tea? I got your favourite,” she whipped out a bag of drinks from behind her. You wonder if she knew of your plans and came to cheer you up.

Who am I kidding, she’s an R-rated hero. Her sixth sense is basically her sex sense.

“Yeah, I could use some company,” you smiled in relief, thankful for her sharp intuition.

Before you knew it, 9PM became 11PM in what felt like 30 minutes and that heavy feeling weighing on your chest left after a couple of laughs here and there. You couldn’t help but feel better in the presence of Kayama, you have no choice but to feel better in her presence.

“And after I showed his class a pic of you, that grape idiot said ‘ if that raggedy ass man of a sensei is able to snatch a woman like that then there’s still hope for me, right?! Right?!’ in that stupid lisp of his! I couldn’t help, but cackle in his face! Hahahahahahahaha!”

“Grape idiot?!,” you laughed, almost choking on your tapioca.

“It caused this huge uproar which took Aizawa an hour to settle down,”

“Sounds like an exaggeration to me,”

“Really? Then I’d have to ask Principal Nezu for permission to let you visit. Hmmm, maybe a surprise visit during his birthday, I’d get to see that purple shit bleed from his eyes again. Hah!” she said, her sadistic side twinkling in her eyes.

You could tell she wasn’t lying about the surprise visit as she hummed her thoughts between sips of beer. Although you know how much Aizawa likes to keep his private life separate from his professional life, your thoughts couldn’t help but ponder in curiosity at how he acts around his infamous class 1-A students. All he ever does is complain about them every time you ask, but just thinking about him acting like the strict teacher Kayama says he is . . . makes . . . you . . .

“Oi, oooii . . . I said OI!”

“Gah!”

“What the hell’s got you blushing like a dazed mess?”

“Blushing? . . . !”

You clasp your hands over your face, as if you’re trying to keep your thoughts and daydreams from escaping. You let your imagination run wild just from thinking about Aizawa as a teacher — his strict demeanour and cold eyes piercing through you . . . his deep growls muffled at the base of your neck as his grip tightens around your waist and hair . . .

“Oh! What time is it?” Kayama exclaimed, disrupting your thoughts.

You reach for your phone to check the time, seeing 11:17PM illuminating from the screen before flipping it to Kayama.

“Perfect!”

You cock your head to the side trying to think of what could make Kayama that excited, but before you could react, her quirk had already taken hold of your consciousness.

Aizawa let out a heavy sigh staring at the time on his phone. It wasn’t the first time he’d let you down like that, even though it’s out of his control he still can’t help feeling disappointed in himself. Pro Heroes always have unpredictable schedules, but still, he’d wish his schedule had gone his way today.

“Thanks as always, Eraserhead. I’ll send the details your way once we’ve confirmed the date,” Tsukauchi reassured, dismissing him for the day. Aizawa nodded in response, finally, he thought. As he walked out of the station, his phone vibrated.

Ugh, what now?

He reached for his phone and unlocked his screen.

Kayama? Probably just more cat pics.

But much to his surprise, the series of pics caused him to stop in his tracks.

Kayama: Bon appétit! *kissy face*

Was the only message that followed at the end of the series of pics. After Kayama used her quirk to put you to sleep, she happily cleaned the place up and settled you prettily onto the bed in an innocent, but also, somewhat tempting position. Who could blame her? She had a knack for setting up tempting situations for her best friends. Aizawa tapped on each pic, examining the details of your delicate lace bra and fluttery panties. He really wished his schedule had gone his way today. The longer he stared at each pic, the bigger his temptation and pent up emotions grew — frustration, doubt, confusion, jealousy, anger, greed, love, lust, it was causing him to lose all sense of logic. You were causing him to lose all sense of logic and he hated it. It’s his first time experiencing something like this, he’d never romantically loved anyone until you came into his life. At first you were just like any other Pro Hero he teamed up with in previous missions, but the mission you two took on escalated into an emotional high profile case, which caused him to spend more time with you. One thing led to another and now, you’re each other’s common-law spouse. Both of you could care less about the huge wedding traditions of planning a wedding day, banquet halls, invitations and all that, but unexpectedly, he did buy you a wedding ring — a customized designer ring at that. Not only does he not care about appearances, but he also doesn’t seem to care about prices, so long as it serves its purpose.

“Uh, Eraserhead? Everything okay?” Officer Sansa tapped on Aizawa’s shoulder, breaking him from his thoughts.

“Huh? Oh, Detective Tsukauchi already settled on a date already?” Aizawa quickly locked his phone and tucked it back into his pocket.

“Um, no, he was actually worried about you . . . you’ve been standing still here for a while now, just staring at your phone . . .”

The logical Pro Hero himself didn’t even realize that he stopped walking and was surprised to see the station still behind him. Tch .

“. . . yeah, I think I should head home now. Someone’s waiting for me. Thanks, Officer Sansa.”

He waved at the cat officer before tucking his hand back into his pocket, unconsciously digging his fingernails into the palms of his hands in frustration. He hated this feeling . . . and he can’t wait to take it out on you .

Aizawa hesitates to open the door, unsure of how he’d react when he sees you for himself. He carefully turns the knob, making sure not to make a noise that’ll wake you from your peaceful slumber. You were just like the pics Kayama sent him — back exposed with the soft glow of the city night lights highlighting your dainty shoulder blades . . . arms clutching the pillow from underneath that pretty little head of yours . . . one leg hitched up to the side while the other was elongated and tucked half way into the sheets . . . As he reached to caress your face, he noticed his hand trembling from suppressing his temptation. Tch. He pulls his hand back in frustration.

“ . . . mmph . . . Shou . . . ta . . .” you murmured in your sleep in between heated breaths.

That was enough for Aizawa to let go of any sense of logic and common sense he had left, and before he knew it, he was hovering over you — the weight of his body sinking into the duvet. His eyes trailing over your features, watching your chest rise and fall with every breath you take — a reassuring feeling that you’re real and very much alive to him. He annoyingly hears his name from the teachers at UA all the time, but when it whispers out from between those pretty lips of yours, it made him experience a feeling he wasn’t used to controlling. He gave in, leaving trails of kisses that slowly turned into hickeys and then bite marks. He felt bad for leaving those marks on your supple skin, but he also wished they were permanent, as if the wedding ring doesn't speak for itself anymore. Aizawa’s grip tightened on your thigh at the thought of anyone else touching you, pinning your leg to your chest. His rough hand traces down your curves before slipping them in between your thighs — a wet sopping mess.

Ah, her panties are ruined . . . shame, he thought as he ripped a slit open, big enough for what you’re about to take in. Whoops . . . I’ll just get her a new one.

The temperature of your body was rising as he continued to press up against you, leaving marks on your collarbone and teasing your insides with his thick calloused fingers. A wave of pleasure ripples through your moonlight kissed skin, slowly pulling you back to your senses. You bat your eyes a few times to shake off the heaviness weighing on your eyelids.

“ . . . Shou—haa . . . !” your body twitched as another wave of pleasure came over you, shaking off your sleepy numbness, awakening your sense of touch as you grip his forearm trying to get him to slow down. It was no use given how enamoured he was with your reaction, your measly grip is as light as a feather against his strength.

“Haa . . . wait . . . slowdow—mmph!,”

Aizawa places his hand over your mouth, silencing your relentless begging. You finally noticed his flushed face and entranced eyes — a face you’re not used to seeing.

“Shut up, if you know what’s good for you,” his deep voice reverberated in your ear, sending a ripple of shivers down your neck. He was a completely different person in a completely different headspace. The only thing that can bring him back to his senses is your safe word, but you know that if you give in he’d completely stop and resist touching you for days as penance for losing control. But . . . you love it when he loses control along with his sense of logic, so you melt into your favourite position, signaling him to release all his pent up emotions in you — a mating press. You bite your trembling lower lip, begging with your wet eyes as a smirk played across his face. He gently kisses your forehead before pulling down his bottoms, revealing his thick throbbing cock. Your cunt twitched at the sight of it, squeezing out your fluids, dripping down like honey.

“How badly do you want it?”

“. . . badly . . . Shou~ta~ . . .” you cooed.

His cock twitched at the sound of your light and airy voice, precum drips onto the sheets.

“Not yet,” he said as he began stroking his cock on your clit, making sure not to let an inch slip inside you. The sensation drives you crazy as you whimper and whine for him to fill you up inside, desperately begging with your hips. But Aizawa’s firm grip on your thighs won’t let you, and keeps you from getting what you want. You miss the feeling of being bred full . His strokes were getting faster, his panting turning into growls. Your body tensed and toes curled as the feeling came closer, letting a desperate sigh escape from your mouth.

“Already? But I’m not done with you yet,” he playfully whispers in your ear before ramming himself inside you.

“Haa!” you yelped.

Your plump walls twitch at the sudden movement, tightening itself around his cock.

“That’s my good girl,” he chuckled, cockingly.

Tears well up in your eyes as you bite back your whimpering. He grabs your hand and firmly places it on your lower abdomen,

“Do you feel me? I’m right here.”

With your hand firmly placed on your stomach, you can feel his bulge every time he strokes his cock in you. He keeps it there, so that you have no choice but to feel it until the very end — up until his cum fills you up inside. His long strokes began to shorten, each stroke getting harder than the last and unable to hold in your pants and moans. Not only can you feel the warmth fill you up, but you can also feel his cock releasing globs of his milk from the bulge protruding from your lower abdomen. Your fingers dance around it making him twitch, his bruising grip tightening around your wrist.

“Fuck,” he grunts, looking down at the mess you both made.

Your cunt was swelling at the amount of cum it’s trying to keep from spilling, gushing out every time your sticky walls twitch. Before Aizawa was about to pull out, you grab his arm,

“Wait . . . not yet,” you must’ve been pouting when those words fell off of your swollen lips cause you’ve never seen his features soften like that before. He lowers himself, feeling his weight sinking into the bed as he tenderly kisses your forehead, brushing your slick baby hairs from your face . . . the warmth of his forehead resting against yours . . . the reassuring feeling of his hand gently cupping your flushed cheeks . . . You reach for his face, thumbing the scar under his eye, diving in for a deeper kiss and wrapping your arms around him. His heart begins to beat harder as you begin to feel his cock swelling up again from inside you.

[cryxtal-moon]

Half Moon | ksj - 01

Summary: Working in an adorable bookstore over the summer should be a simple, enjoyable job. Except the owner has a secret past that comes back to haunt her, there’s a handsome regular patron who doesn’t just return for the various stories you recommend, and a family drama you find yourself getting caught in the middle of. This chapter of your life is the most convoluted one yet, and you’re at the mercy of whoever is holding the pen.

Genre/warnings: fluff, angst, drama, slow burn, bookstore worker!reader, resort manager!Seokjin, delivery man!Jungkook, secretary!Namjoon

Word count: 18k

Pairing: Seokjin x reader

Author's note: I can't begin to describe how excited I am in starting a new series. Three months into the making and this is part one. I'm sorry if it feels too rushed or fast-paced, but either way, I hope you enjoy this story :)

Summer vacation brought with it a time to head to your part-time job at a bookstore. You found yourself inside Butterfly Corner, a place you had been drawn to when you moved to this town. Although it didn’t pay as well compared to what interns would earn at the five-star resort just down the road, what was more important to you was to enjoy the job.

People didn’t really buy books so much as browse through them or pause in the little store to read a few of their favourites. It wasn’t just the stories that you loved, it was the feel of a hardcopy book in your hands. Things were becoming too electronic for your liking in the modern-day era.

This place had everything – history, geography, fashion, self-help, literature, fiction, non-fiction, you name it. Spending hours here being surrounded by books was a privilege rather than a chore. There were biweekly visits from the suppliers of new volumes. Upon your visit, they had recently opened their doors, so hired help of the appropriate sort was needed.

In this small part of town, you weren’t a stranger to hearing rumours of visitors who sat in the rest area of Butterfly Corner. Word by the water cooler was how an employee from the resort, one who was said to be “strikingly handsome”, had taken a particular interest in the shop, though you had never seen him once. Despite the range of customers being as wide as the genres of books themselves, you were sure you would be able to recognise said employee the second he entered, but alas, no one caught your eye.

You had thought it was the adorable delivery man, Jeon Jungkook, at one point. With deep brown eyes, a bunny smile and fluffy black hair, anyone within a five-yard radius could fall for him. Maybe he harboured a secret behind his humble getup. That was your original suspicion, until he revealed that he wasn’t interested in becoming a hotelier, focusing instead on martial arts and photography (which only made him that much cuter).

By interest, you wondered what it meant. Did the guy want to buy the shop from the owner? Miss Sohee would never give it up – she loved this little place with her whole heart. No one would put up more of a fight than her if anyone threatened it. Or worse, did they want to shut it down? You truly hoped not; the bookstore was your second home and you didn’t want to find a job anywhere else.

Rain pelted gently against the small windows that evening. Perched atop a small stool, you carefully watered a pot of curling ivy hanging beside the glass panes when the door in the reflection of the window opened, a cold gust of wind sweeping into the space before a young man stepped inside.

If he had been depending on the dark green jacket and cap he wore to shield him from the rain, he was a poor judge of fashion. Yet they looked completely dry, so you assumed he had used an umbrella to make his way here. An easy smile came to his face upon his entry, like he was walking into a place he could call home.

“Excuse me,” his voice compelled you to turn around, lips not faltering in their upward turn when you did. “Do you work here?”

The distance that separated you two wasn’t wide, but you couldn’t see much of his eyes, covered by light brown bangs pushed down by the cap he adorned. Nonetheless, you stepped down from the stool to address the new customer.

“Yes, I do. Welcome to Butterfly Corner. How may I help you?”

“Ah, um…” clasping his hands in front of him, he appeared to be giving thought to what he wanted to read first, contrary to most people who would start browsing right away.

“Do you have any fairy tales?”

The widening of your eyes was because of interest, not judgment. Young adults didn’t typically ask for childhood stories. They favoured the non-fiction section for life advice, or fictional action-packed books, or even how to start an online business. He looked like he was in his early twenties or younger, however, you had learned not to question the customer’s choice.

Nodding, you led him to a section in the centre where there was a shelf lined with myths, legends, and stories told to kids during their bedtime. It had been a while since you read them yourself. You were about to leave him alone, but the way he handled the book with care had you strangely rooted to the spot. It was as if the pages were butterfly wings to him, thumb and index cautiously grazing over the paper with a tenderness you had seen only one other mirror, and that was Miss Sohee.

The feel of the watering can in your hands snapped you out of your outright staring, remembering the bonsai plants were waiting for their dose. You cleared your throat, heat tinting the apples of your cheeks a light shade of pink.

“Well, happy reading. We have classics here, and some versions of stories that aren’t very well-known, but they give a new perspective of the original.”

“Thanks,” he beamed at you, glancing up from the book in his hands, his eyes much clearer now. Should you describe them, it would either be pools of hot chocolate, or refined bronze gems catching light from every angle.

“What’s your favourite story?”

The watering can almost crashed to the ground. “Me?”

He seemed to realise how bizarre his question sounded, smile disappearing for a few seconds. “Uh, I mean– what book do you recommend?”

“Oh,” you blinked, surprise wearing off now that the question made more sense, “well…”

You pretended to search for your favourite volume with your eyes, in spite of knowing exactly where it was, having read it from cover to cover multiple times. A large part of you wanted to prolong this conversation with this fascinating stranger for an unexplainable reason. There was a spark in your heart that drew you to him, the same one you felt when you signed up for this part-time job, one you thought you’d never experience again.

It was weird, to say the least.

“Here,” presenting the book to him with both hands, you noted how his eyes glistened curiously.

“The Little Prince.”

“I watched the movie before I read the book,” you admitted, “but they’re both masterpieces in different ways.”

“There’s a movie?” His gaze locked onto your own with a type of youthful wonder.

“Yup. It was released a while back, but you should start with the book first,” you tapped the cover with your index finger twice. “There’s another one here that I can show you. It’s not a fairytale, though.”

“Save it for next time,” he held The Little Prince out to you. “I’d like to buy this one, please.”

So fast? Your eyes flickered down to the book, then to him, then to the book, and then him again. Customers buying their favourites from your shop was a rarity. Buying one recommended by you didn’t even seem like a possibility.

In the few seconds that you did nothing were the same few where his smile didn’t waver. He wasn’t joking. He really was going to buy the book. Nothing about this situation felt real to you, even as you took it from his hands rather hesitantly.

“Alright…” Reminders to respect the customer’s wishes played in your head like a track on repeat while you made your way to the counter, one that shielded the back storage room from view.

The same old routine was applied every time someone purchased a book: you wrote down the book title, date it was bought, and the amount in the accounts journal, alongside their name. As you reached down to collect said journal in its regular spot on a shelf, footsteps growing louder in your direction alerted you of Miss Sohee’s presence.

She had been in the storage room organising the new supply of books that had come from the bi-weekly shipment in the morning. Another thing you had in common with your boss was the need to be neat. Who would be able to find anything in a bookstore without a proper arrangement? Focused on the task at hand, you failed to see the pleasant surprise on her face at the sight of the young man.

All you heard was this: “Se–“ before she silenced herself, willingly. Your brow raised at her strange behaviour, getting to your feet to place the accounts book on the table, pen out and ready.

“Do you know him, Miss Sohee?” You let the question slip before you could control your curiosity.

Her boisterous laughter echoed around the shop, and if it weren’t for the volume that made you wince, you would have noted that it didn’t sound entirely natural, as though she was forcing herself.

“Of course not, sweetie! I wish I had the pleasure of knowing such a handsome young man,” the wink she sent him weirded you out further. Only because she was your superior did you decide against asking her what she meant.

“Oh?” Sohee leaned towards you to take a look at his purchase. “The Little Prince? Isn’t that your favourite, ____?”

Why did that question sound like she was trying to insinuate something that wasn’t there?

“I asked her for suggestions on a good book,” he supplied, to which you thanked him for in your head and earned a “ah” from your boss.

Once he handed you the money, you were about to say goodbye till he leaned in a little closer, your faces suddenly less than ten inches apart. Up close and personal, perhaps a little too personal, was enough to let you know just how handsome this man was.

Physical appearance did nothing to affect you with the number of people you’ve met in this job, but you couldn’t ignore the little flutter in your chest.

“Keep the second recommendation in mind,” he grinned. “I’ll be back for it.”

His last words made it hard to look away after he disappeared from your sight. When you did, realisation dawned on you about one crucial fact.

You didn’t know his name.

⊱✿⊰

“Once upon a time, there was a little prince who lived on a planet scarcely bigger than himself, and who had need for a friend.”

The first line of the book had Seokjin hooked. He could see why this was a favourite of yours; it wasn’t just the story it painted. The lessons it tried to teach people who read it were valuable too. A grown man who managed a resort reading a fairytale was a strange sight to see, since he had brought the book with him during work hours to pass the time, but no one dared to judge him if they treasured their positions enough.

Going into Butterfly Corner wasn’t what he had originally planned to do, though he knew his aunt owned the place. Sohee had been bugging him to visit for two weeks, and if it weren’t for his job, he would have been there on the day it opened.

It was a coincidence he had stumbled upon the bookstore looking for shelter from the unexpected rain, the factor doubling upon meeting you, the girl he had noticed in this small part of town for a while now. You had caught his eye during the first day he saw you working there, mainly because there was something about you that was different, the only lily among a field of peonies he had the pleasure of meeting.

Drawing that comparison from the girls he had gone out with wasn’t fair, he knew. The ones his parents had set him up on blind dates with, in the desperate hope he would find someone he could settle down, were from privileged backgrounds and had silver spoons in their mouths. Every single one of them had grown up to serve a different clientele, both in business and in marriage.

Still, did they really think they could impress him with designer dresses, or the number of diamonds glittering on their necks? All it did was blind him the second he glanced in their direction. Neither did he care as they flashed their credit cards to buy him branded gifts. None of it was their hard-earned money, but their father’s credit card. What was even more unflattering was their love for gossip and scandals. It didn’t show off how much they knew about people – it told him how low they were willing to stoop to hurt someone through the spread of lies.

When you came along, a simple, down-to-earth girl with an adorable love of books, you were a breath of fresh air. Humble, genuine, gentle, with no false pretences whatsoever. And he appreciated that. Granted, he hadn’t actually talked to you until he decided to buy the book, but that one interaction was more than enough for now.

He could just be himself around you, the way he had been yesterday, and the freedom that came with it was more liberating than he had ever imagined. Your wide-eyed expression watching him lean over the counter was burned into his memory, because for once it was pleasant surprise, not muted dissatisfaction his dates tried to hide receiving expensive jewelry he gifted them, expecting better.

Seokjin didn’t know you well, nor you him. In your mind, he was merely a bookstore patron who had promised to return for another book. To him, you were someone he had a small crush on. It was how he dealt with it that mattered, and at the moment, he wasn’t sure if he planned on doing anything about it or you, other than continuing to be a customer.

Flipping to the page just behind the cover, his first real smile of the day tugged at his lips in reading your handwritten note:

“I hope you never lose your childlike wonder.”

Until two swift knocks at the door shattered his bubble of peace with a needle of reality. Hiding the book in his drawer, seriousness overtook his face again as he allowed the person to enter. The sight of Kim Namjoon, his trusted childhood friend and secretary, made him relax a little in the cushy office chair.

“Hey hyung,” he headed over, a brown manila folder in his hands, “here’s the finalised design on the library. The electronic file’s been faxed to you too.”

“Oh, good.” Unbeknownst to Seokjin, he smiled at the very mention of a library – it reminded him of Butterfly Corner, and of you.

The interior design was a mixture of modern and classic. White sofas with mahogany floors, a cozy fireplace in two small cabins, while an entertainment center, computer stations and a flatscreen television were situated in another corner. Hundreds of books were spread out on the shelves, labels of the genres written on the side of each.

He wondered if there would be fairytales included, his mouth opening before his brain could fully comprehend what he was saying.

“Do we have any books on fairy tales?”

“Fairy tales?” Namjoon repeated, tilting his head slightly. Seokjin could practically see question marks forming around him at the unprecedented inquiry, but it was far too late to retract.

“Uh, I mean– for the kids,” he fumbled with his words, which confused him even more from the way his frown deepened. “Hotels need to cater to all their guests, right? Some of them have children who visit, so they would want to read books more suited for their age.”

Thank goodness that sounded believable enough for Namjoon to nod, the puzzled look on his face clearing up in seconds. The last thing he needed was for this conversation to lead to his visit to the bookstore and then to you. No one needed to know about his crush on a girl out of his league.

“Good idea. I’ll make sure to ask the suppliers to include those,” he pulled out his phone to make a reminder, missing the way Seokjin’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Are there any in particular you have in mind?”

“The Little Prince,” again, he responded without thinking twice.

“I didn’t know you like the classics, hyung,” Namjoon shoved his mobile back into its pocket. “You’re full of surprises. And speaking of surprises, Mrs Kim scheduled another date for you.”

“What?!” Hands slamming on the glass table top, his nameplate jumped in place, and so did his secretary. “When?”

“Um... tonight, in the restaurant.”

A long, heavy sigh was a far cry from the reaction Namjoon had braced himself for. “Why does she always do this without telling me first? What if I had plans?”

“Do you have plans?”

“I was going to visit a bookstore…”

He really needed to stop running his mouth; lines were going to form permanently between Namjoon’s eyes with how much frowning he was doing because of him.

“A bookstore? It’s not… Aunt Sohee’s, is it?”

Seokjin’s silence confirmed the answer he already knew, his old friend sighing not out of exasperation but concern. He was among the few who knew his family situation. How his mother and Aunt Sohee had fallen out years ago, one marrying into the family he now grew up in, the other pursuing her dream of being a travel writer. That ended them up in two different worlds – high class resort owner versus middle income author. None of them had spoken, let alone seen each over a decade.

His parents wanted the best for him, and their version of “the best” was to own the resort, someday even the company his father worked at if his older brother didn’t, then find a woman who was identical to his mother. Someone who valued family, understood high society life, and most importantly, who didn’t have their head in the clouds or unrealistic ideals of achieving their goals. Basically, someone who wasn’t his aunt. It was because of Sohee his mother began despising books as well, no matter how ridiculous that sounded.

The irony that he had taken a liking to someone who went against every one of those standards nearly made him chuckle dryly.

Namjoon patted his back, a small gesture of reassurance, though he could feel his resignation. “I can’t tell you what to do, but if you’re going, I won’t say a word.”

The possibility of going after the date was there, only, he knew the closing time of the shop, and highly doubted you would be there when it ended. Two options were presented: go on the unpleasant date with another stuck up princess, or risk making his mother furious by sneaking out.

He already knew the date would be a failure. Once the night was over, he would politely decline her wish to meet up again, which in itself would disappoint and anger his parents for the umpteenth time. Adding fuel to the already present fire by going to see Aunt Sohee, or you, would be unwise.

“No,” he got up, walked over to a coat rack beside the door and grabbed his blazer, reluctantly pulling it across his white button-down, “I’ll attend the date.”

“Oh,” Namjoon quickly followed him from behind to help him turn the collar outwards, “okay. Are you sure you won’t regret it, hyung?”

Seokjin could only think of you, your smiling face, the warmth of Butterfly Corner. “I already do.”

⊱✿⊰

The bookstore was called Butterfly Corner for a reason; five of them surrounded the small gems of plants you had positioned by the entrance and the windows. Since they weren’t disturbing anyone, you let them be, sitting on the stairs that led up to the doorway and gazing outside at the streets.

Just opposite lay The Sweet Shoppe, a fantastic place for caramel macchiato, raspberry scones or something to nibble on. You were a personal friend of the owner thanks to your regular visits. Beside it, a recreational shop sold trinkets and knick knacks, the most beautiful little treasures you had the pleasure of setting your eyes on. One of the music boxes you bought from there was in your room, the melody helping you unwind after a long day.

Today, however, you weren’t focusing on admiring the quaint street you were growing accustomed to. You were on the lookout for one person: the customer who had promised to return for another book recommended by you.

Not that you would admit it to anyone. You weren’t really waiting for him like he was a soldier returning from the war. It was more towards being curious, to see if he would really come back. This time, you had a mission. You were going to learn his name. Silly as it was, the little spark that ignited in your heart was difficult to ignore.

He seemed like a nice guy too. Genuinely kind, with a gentle smile, alongside this aura of mystery that intrigued you. The memory of how close your faces had been over the counter left you with rose-dusted cheeks for the remainder of the evening, even up till that morning, two days later. In that same amount of time, you did your best to disregard Miss Sohee’s teasing though you had agreed he was handsome. You didn’t even know him. You shouldn’t be thinking about him, but the more you actively tried to push him out of your mind, the more he kept reappearing.

Had he finished The Little Prince? Did he like it? A small smile tugged at the edges of your lips at the thought of him reading at a desk with a coffee mug in hand, taking in the story about a boy who loved a rose, and his adventures on each asteroid he landed on with different people he encountered. You had brought the movie with you to work, stored in a shelf behind the counter, to give it to him once he was done with the story. As you had said before, the movie was a masterpiece in its own unique way.

Screeching tyres snapped you out of your thoughts. You made a mental note to thank Jungkook for that, as the boy stepped out of the passenger seat of the truck to give you a wave.

“Morning, _____!” His bunny smile was directed at you, but it wasn’t as heart-fluttering compared to your first meeting. “Right on time. I wanted to ask if you could come with me.”

“Jungkook? Is that you?” Miss Sohee came walking out of the shop, pen and notebook in hand, a sign she had been working on her next novel. “Why hello there, little one! What brings you here?”

“Hey Aunt Sohee,” he tipped his head towards the older woman in a small, friendly bow. “I was wondering if I could borrow ____ for a minute. I’m delivering some books to the resort’s library.”

“The resort? You mean…” you trailed off, pointing to the enormous five-star building a little way down the road, “that resort?”

“Yup. Thought you might be interested in seeing some of their new arrivals.”

“I… I guess I wouldn’t mind, but–“

“No buts!” Sohee’s grip on your shoulders to propel you forward caught you off-guard, nearly thrusting you to Jungkook when she released her hands and making you collide into his chest. “She’s going.”

“What?” You whirled around, incredulous. “Miss Sohee, I’m still on my shift. I can’t–“

A shake of her pen silenced you instantly. “It’s fine, my dear. You’ll still be working, and who knows? Maybe you’ll meet someone.” You did not appreciate the suggestive wink she threw in as she headed back into the bookstore, waving you both a temporary goodbye.

Meet someone? You raised an eyebrow at no one in particular, climbing into the passenger seat next to Jungkook, who looked a little too pleased that you were allowed to go with him. There wasn’t any time left for you to change your mind – the truck was pulling off in the direction of the grandiose building, one you were about to step into for the first time.

Truth be told, you had always been curious as to what it would look like. From the outside, people you saw in the gardens beyond the gates adorned in high-end fashion brands you couldn’t even name, sipping from martini glasses, pearls and diamonds costing more than a year’s rent dripping from their ears and necks. “Fancy” was undoubtedly derived from places like these.

Self-consciousness washing over you, you peered down at what you were wearing. Lilac jeans, black jacket, a white shirt with a tiny black cat sticking out of a small pocket, and worn sneakers scuffed at the edges due to overuse. You’d be the object of their scrutiny the second you passed through the glass double doors.

Jungkook paid no mind to the way you gulped, pressing a black cap over your head. “There. Now they know you’re a delivery girl.”

The ridiculous white words sewed on the cap made ice cold regret seep into your veins. Peach tea. Where on earth did he find a cap with that kind of name?

For the rest of the five-minute drive, which felt like seconds, you fiddled with the hem of your shirt while your dread manifested itself as a vice inside you, squeezing every molecule of oxygen out of your lungs the further you got from the familiar street. Jungkook tapping along to the beat of a country song streaming through the radio speakers did nothing to ease your worries.

The truck pulled up on the side of the resort far too soon, with you stepping out on the marble sidewalk – marble, for goodness’ sake – and feeling the stares of the guests in the lobby burning into your skin. Quickly, you ducked your head, pulled on the front of the cap in an attempt to hide more of your face, then scurried over to where Jungkook was unloading the boxes.

They weren’t joking when they said there were tons of books. What seemed to be hundreds of them lined the inside of each cardboard package, each one tempting you to reach in and start reading, till you remembered that they weren’t meant for Butterfly Corner. All you could do was imagine the various stories lying within, each one a precious jewel awaiting to be unwrapped. You carried a box that weighed at least four kilos in your arms, since the trolley ran out of space, trailing behind two delivery men who were following a hotel staff.

“Opulent” couldn’t begin to describe the inside. A golden chandelier hung from the ceiling, light reflecting off each crystal onto gleaming white walls with flecks of gold stuck to the surface. White marble tiles beneath your shoes had been polished to the point where you could see your reflection clearly upon looking down. There was a waterfall with the name Luxe Resort written in golden cursive font against a black surface, a few children peering into it to search for koi fish, the kids of the high society guests.

And this was only the lobby. You didn’t want to imagine the suites.

“Namjoon-hyung!” Jungkook waved over to one of the staff members decked in a black suit, blond hair swept back and giving off the look of a professional businessman. Neither of them noticed the way they drew questioning looks from guests lingering around as they exchanged a quick hug, too happy to see each other to care. Perhaps you could learn from them not to bother, too.

“Hey, Kookie,” the older man, Namjoon, was equally happy to see him, if the smile on his face gave anything away. “You look great.”

“You too,” The bunny boy peered over his shoulder like he was looking for someone else. “Where’s our other hyung?”

“He told me to go on ahead. Said something about needing to check some files,” Namjoon shook his head, his eyes landing on you soon enough, the new delivery girl who wasn’t supposed to be there. Then again, your boss Sohee was known for her spontaneity.

“Who’s this lovely lady?”

“Oh! _____. This is _____,” The suddenness of Jungkook throwing his arm around your shoulders made you jolt. Nonetheless, you bowed respectfully, as best as you could while holding a heavy box. “She’ll be helping me organise the books for today.”

“Hi,” you smiled, “nice to meet you.”

“You too, ____,” Namjoon gave you the vibe of a giant teddy bear – big, approachable and friendly. He seemed a whole lot nicer than the aristocrats sipping from china teacups in the cafe nearby, those you knew had added the judgment of your casual outfit to their morning conversations.

“Well then, let me show you both to the library.”

⊱✿⊰

It had been two days since the date, one that left Seokjin with a major headache when he returned to his private apartment.

Everything had gone as he predicted. The lady’s first mistake was showing up with a whole spiderweb of diamonds clinging to her neck, as if the chandelier on the ceiling wasn’t blinding enough. Another designer dress, after the hundreds he had seen them adorn, did nothing to impress him, nor did the jewels that sparkled on her manicured fingers.

If he didn’t at least try to feign interest in what she had to say, his mother would never let him hear the end of it. That was why he had put himself through the torture of listening to her drone on about a business scandal, one he had heard his own parents discuss at one point despite choosing not to join in because of his hate of gossip.

Things had only gotten worse from there. Perhaps he shouldn’t have taken a risk to boldly ask her about her opinion on books. Specifically, fairy tales, or the classics, things that only reminded him more of you. All he received was laughter at the randomness of his question, followed by a wave of dismissal from her gloved hand. That just about did it for him.

“No one reads books these days” was what she had commented with a sickly sweet laugh, till he cut her off curtly by notifying her of his aunt being a writer. The way she was taken aback was worth it, newfound awareness of how she had clearly insulted both him and his family leaving her speechless. Layering it on that he loved books, all sorts of literature, including fairy tales – he emphasised that with a point of his fork in her direction – was merely the icing on the cake.

He was the first to call off the dinner, leaving her stunned expression behind when he paid for the bill immediately after their dessert had been served. Seokjin all but stormed out of the dining hall after he used his unfinished work as an excuse. Only, before he left, he had bowed to her, with the added comment of hoping that she would find someone else who would suit her taste. Funny; she was the one who told him that he was her cup of tea at the start of the evening.

Self-confidence combined with his good looks made him quite the catch, he was well aware. It was why his mother had not stopped trying to set him up, but at that second, they were more of a curse than a blessing.

“Knock knock,” Namjoon peered his head into the office, causing him to slam The Little Prince shut, though his friend barely took note.

“Hey. What brings you by? Do I have another date lined up?” Seokjin raised an eyebrow with a knowing smile.

“Better,” his comment made him tilt his head, intrigued. “Jungkook’s here. He’s delivering the books for the library.”

The thought of the bunny boy lifted his mood. It had been a while since they had last seen each other. He’d be more than happy to catch up over helping with organisation of the library. Standing up, that was enough for Namjoon to know he agreed to see their friend again without having to ask, both of them heading down to the lobby.

Where the lifts were built wasn’t too far away from the check-in counter, just past the large rest area and fanciful white stone fountain. Normally, deliveries didn’t use the main entrance, but Luxe Resort had its exceptions when the books were ordered by him.

A round head came into view when Seokjin rounded the corner, a familiar one of that. Just as he opened his mouth to call Jungkook’s name, his eyes landed on someone else, someone who was not supposed to be there with him, and he froze.

There you were, a box in your hands, admiring the splendour of the hotel lobby he had seen a thousand times over.

If it weren’t for how you were looking up at the ceiling, he wouldn’t have been able to recognise you instantly, not with that cap on your head, one that he thought you looked cute in. He could have laughed at the adorable words, Peach tea, but he had forgotten to breathe.

What were you doing here? The box in your hands soon provided the answer – you were helping with the deliveries. Was that your job too? He knew you had one, and that was working at his aunt’s bookstore, which meant you weren’t supposed to be here now. Unless Aunt Sohee had forced you to go to the resort with the knowledge of him being here.

Of course she did. He really needed to have a word with his aunt.

His quick side-stepping to dive behind a pillar, out of your line of sight, earned him a frown from Namjoon. “Hyung, what are you–“

“You go ahead. I just remembered, I need to…uh…” messing around with his jacket, Seokjin pulled his phone out of one of the pockets then pressed the button to switch it on, “I need to check some files. Yup. They need to be checked. Tell Jungkook I said hi, okay?”

Awkward footsteps shuffled him away, tensing up at the thought of you recognising him from his back view, and then he bolted when Namjoon stopped staring at him to walk over. He hid in the place his eyes laid on first: another pillar where he could spy on the three of you.

From the hug that Namjoon and Jungkook exchanged, to the way you bowed with the box in your hands… he saw and heard it all. In those clothes, both of you stood out like a black ink stain on pure white linen, but not in a bad way, not to him. You could never know that he was here. He couldn’t let you see him, not when you thought he was just a friendly neighbourhood boy. Should his family know that he was fraternising with someone who worked for his aunt, or worse, find out he somewhat fancied you…

The sight of all three of you walking away made his shoulders sag. Should he follow you? Would that be too creepy? Yes, and it would also risk him being seen by you. Was it worth it, though? Just to spend time with you? I mean, when were you ever going to step through the resort doors again–

“Mr Kim?”

The unexpected voice made him jump. So did the staff member, who had seen him in his strange hiding spot, spying on others. He could only imagine how weird he looked.

“Is… everything alright?” She asked, albeit hesitantly. “Do you need something from the lobby?”

“No, everything’s fine.”

Seokjin smoothed his jacket in an attempt to appear professional, probably earning another confused look from her at his sudden departure. They wouldn’t question it. No one dared to ask the boss about his behaviour in favour of their jobs. In his hurry to get away, his feet led him to the library, and soon enough, he was standing before its doors, wide open and ready to welcome him in.

One small, precarious step inside. Then another, like the floor was made of glass, and another, and he had fully crossed the boundary into the room. You weren’t anywhere to be seen from his vantage point. With all of his senses on high alert, his eyes in particular, he peered around each shelf, most of them coming up empty save a few of the staff workers organising books.

It felt more like fate, or déjà vu, finding you in the fairytale section. Daylight streaming in from the floor-to-ceiling glass windows gave your silhouette an ethereal glow. You weren’t doing anything, just placing books on the shelves as you were tasked to do.

And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to look away.

Only when he saw Namjoon appear behind the shelves, headed in your direction did he duck into the aisle behind you. For the love of all things good, he must have looked absolutely ridiculous, leaning against a shelf, the both of you a metre apart where he could hear you, except you didn’t know he was there.

“Oh, be careful with that,” he heard Namjoon tell you, probably referring to a book you had just pulled out.

“What, this?” Listening to your voice again was even more soothing than he remembered. “The Little Prince?”

“That book was specifically requested by the resort manager.”

“Ah, I see,” the sound of a book gently pushed into its rightful place reached his ears, “he has excellent taste.”

Seokjin didn’t bother to contain the smile that spread across his face. If only you knew. Moving a stack of books, he quietly created a small gap between them, just enough to watch the two of you without rousing any suspicion.

“You seem like you know what you’re doing,” Namjoon’s comment earned him a nod.

“I work in a bookstore. It’s the one just down the road, called Butterfly Corner.”

He stuffed his sleeve in his mouth; it was the only way to stifle his laughter while you blinked up at Namjoon, doe eyes sparkling in complete innocence. The mention of the forbidden place in the resort was not to be taken lightly, but you being unaware of Seokjin’s family history was why you could get away with it.

“Is the owner’s name Sohee, by any chance?”

You gasped lightly, eyes widening. “Yeah, how did you know? Have you been there?”

“I… guess you could say that, yeah.”

“Oh!” You suddenly snapped your fingers, a lightbulb going off above your head, nearly scaring Namjoon. “You must be the person she told me to meet.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Miss Sohee asked me to come here with Jungkook. She said that I might meet someone, and I’m guessing that someone is you,” you were too ecstatic to see the lost expression on Namjoon’s face, almost wanting to correct you, but not entirely sure he should. “Strange; she’s never mentioned you before. Are you friends with her?”

Seokjin, on the other hand, gripped his hair in frustration. He knew it. This was a setup by his mischievous aunt on purpose. He knew you couldn’t have shown up here any other way!

“Aunt Sohee, what were you thinking?!” Gosh, the games she liked to play…

Wait.

Had he said that out loud?

“What was that?”

Your startled voice almost gave him a heart attack on the spot. Seokjin jumped off from where he leaned against the shelf as though it had electrocuted him and ran, weaving through the shelves with a flexibility he didn’t know he possessed, not slowing down or looking back once until his feet pounded past the nearest exit, thanking every interior designer that the floor was carpeted.

Again, he collapsed against the wall, out of breath, heart racing, thoughts all over the place.

He seriously needed to stop running his mouth.

⊱✿⊰

The night you went back from shelving books in the resort library brought with it no rain. For that, you were thankful – it meant the butterflies stayed where they were. You busied yourself with reorganising some of the books that were out of place because of a few customers who had showed up while you weren’t around. Miss Sohee was back in the storage room busy scribbling at her second draft, though when you had returned, she hadn’t hesitated to ask how it went.

“Nothing out of the ordinary” were the five words you used to sum it up. There wasn’t anything special that came with shelving books, other than getting to explore all the titles. Obviously, your boss hadn’t believed you, not even for a second, which was why you told her that you met Namjoon.

His name made her pause, blink twice, and frown. You could literally see cogs turning in her head as she tried to remember who he was. You had assumed that they knew each other, considering that he had been here before. To help jog her memory, you painted a picture of the man: blond hair, dark brown eyes, tall, two cute dimples. Still, after she could recall, you could see confusion lingering in her eyes.

The strange thing was, he wasn’t the person Sohee thought you would meet. Meaning that there was somebody else in the resort staff she had in mind. When you tried to ask her, she just shook her head with a vague response of you being able to recognise him if you ever crossed paths.

Should Namjoon really be the hotel employee who was interested in Butterfly Corner, all that was left to do was ask him about it. Although, thinking back on your conversation with him, he didn’t strike you as withholding any ill intent towards this little bookstore. In fact, you doubted he had even visited the place. You sure would have remembered seeing him here, the same way you remembered the mystery man.

Something knocking against the closed door made your head perk up. Maybe that was him? Shoving the book you were scanning through back in its original position, you sped to the door, but hesitated the second your hand rested on the handle.

Why were you looking forward to seeing him again? This wasn’t normal; he wasn’t someone you had a crush on. You had long grown out of the immature teenage phase. He wasn’t your friend, either. Was it because his promise, the one he had said with a sweet smile on his face, had enchanted you?

No way! You shook your head vehemently to yourself, pulling open the door out of curiosity to see what had knocked on its surface. Nothing more, nothing less.

But even you couldn’t help turning your head to check both sides of the road, gently letting the door slide close. All that greeted you were warm lights of the opposite shops, a light spring breeze, and a few butterflies fluttering around the tips of flower petals on the front lawn.

A sigh escaped past your lips as you crossed your arms and leaned back against the door, looking up at a blue wind chime that housed a small succulent in it. That was probably what had knocked against the door. Your silliness made your gaze drop back down to your shoes, scuffing your right heel against the ground. What were you thinking, hoping for a man you were supposedly fascinated by to show up? Stupid…

“Aww, were you waiting for me?”

That voice. You knew that voice. Your eyes locked on the same mystery man who had somehow materialised out of nowhere and the first thing you did was jump.

“What the?!” A hand went up defensively across your chest, the way you would protect yourself from a sudden attack. Or in this case, a sudden appearance of a certain someone. “N-no, no, what makes you think that?”

He merely grinned. Curse his smile and the spark it lit in your heart… “Then why are you out here?”

“I was just… enjoying the view,” you huffed an invisible strand of hair away from your face as you folded your arms again. You had never been the best liar. Sneaking a peek at him through your lashes, you dared to ask, “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“I’m here for the second book recommendation, like I said.”

Of course he was.

A tiny part of you wanted to trick yourself, to believe that he was here to see you, but it only caused the spark to burn brighter, so you dismissed the absurd idea within a second.

“Okay, follow me.”

This time, you walked straight past the fairytale aisle, feeling his presence close behind you, like he was a lost puppy obediently trailing after his owner. You reached the shelf that housed fictional tales, your fingers brushing the spines of different volumes in search of the author’s initials. But the moment your hand came to a halt, an idea popped into your head.

You turned back to him, patiently waiting for you to remove the book still beneath your fingers, which hadn’t moved from their position. Uncertainty ate away at you, but you had to prove to yourself that you could ignore the reactions of your idiotic vital organ currently racing in your ribcage. What you were about to do was a test for yourself.

“Wait,” you swallowed, knowing his full attention was on you now. “I’ll give you the book… on one condition.”

He chuckled at your seriousness. “And what would that be?”

“Tell me your name.”

The chuckle changed to a short, amused laugh. “Is this your way of saying you want to get to know me?”

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” you pointed straight at him with your free hand in warning. “I need to write down the names of customers when they buy a book. I don’t plan on leaving an empty space in the records forever.”

The smile on his face wasn’t leaving anytime soon. “So, if I don’t tell you my name, you won’t give it to me?”

You managed to keep your tone firm. “Yes.”

“But,” his warm hand enclosed over yours, just atop the volume you planned to pull out, “isn’t this it?”

You’d die before you admitted his touch was strangely addicting. You wouldn’t have minded staying like that forever, till he slowly removed the book, forcing your hand to fall back to your side. Fingers curled into your palm to prevent the spread of the tingly sensation where his touch had been. What happened to controlling yourself?

The time he took to glance through the copy of The Girl Who Could Fly was sufficient for you to observe him again. Warm bronze irises, light brown hair hidden beneath a cap you guessed was soft to the touch, broad shoulders, slim waist. Combined with his personality, it wouldn’t surprise you in the slightest if he had a girlfriend. You would even go as far as to say that he probably had a fiancé.

“This seems interesting,” he turned the book over, meeting your eyes once more. “Is it another favourite of yours?”

“It is. There’s a sequel, too,” you were about to pull out the second book of the duology when he placed his hand over your own, and you couldn’t stop your heart from missing a beat.

“Don’t. I need another reason to come back again.”

Lacing your fingers together, he led you to the counter this time, not the other way around.

“I-I’m guessing you finished the little prince, then, huh?” You forced yourself to talk over the drum of your heart, no matter how unsteady your voice had become. “Did you like it?”

“Couldn’t put it down,” he admitted a little too casually, “especially during work. I couldn’t focus on my job because of it.”

“That’s not good,” half your attention was on him while you pulled out the records book, jotting the relevant details down under the purchases log. “You shouldn’t read while you work.”

He laughed again, the sound almost identical to a squeegee on a window. “This coming from someone who works in a bookstore.”

The column where you wrote the customer’s name paused your pen in its tracks. Technically, he had collected the book for himself, so he didn’t need to tell you his name like you asked. Was it so bad that you really wanted to know? You couldn’t call him “mystery man” forever.

The pen was suddenly taken from your grasp and the book spun on its own accord in his direction for he filled up the gap himself. Curiosity overtook you and your actions; you leaned over to read the single character he wrote.

Jin.

“Jin,” you repeated aloud, tasting his name on your tongue for the first time, liking how sweet and simple it sounded,.

There was barely any distance between your faces when you locked your eyes on his, the shelter of his cap partially shielding you.

“Now you know,” Jin beamed, the image etched in your mind forever.

⊱✿⊰

Dreamland hadn’t been so easy to enter the night prior.

Seokjin blamed you for it, the lovely girl who invaded his thoughts, whose voice saying his name was the sweetest he’d ever heard. Maybe visiting you yesterday had all been just that – a dream, but the books on his shelf were a grateful reminder that it was real. Holding his hand up to the golden sunlight streaming through a gap in his curtains, he could almost trick himself into thinking the warmth he felt was identical to the one coming from your hand.

He had been so close to you. Should he have chosen to lean in just that little bit further, he would have been robbed of sleep entirely. The very thought of seeing you again energised him enough to get out of bed and make through the day, though he needed to finish the new book he bought first. At the rate he was going, his empty shelf would soon be filled. It wouldn’t surprise him if his aunt texted to thank him for the business he brought to her shop.

Noticing the small aloe growing by his sink, minty foam from the toothpaste threatening to conceal his mouth, he had an idea. He’d bring a present with him during his next visit. A red rose, indistinguishable from the blossom the little prince had fallen in love with, to see if you could catch on. Throw in a quote too, the same quote that was used in the movie. Your flustered face was well worth the effort.

Once he buttoned his shirt, he pulled on a blazer, to complete the professional hotelier look he had to don. Sadly, the weekend was two days away, which meant two more days of mind-numbing work.

Some of the guests were friendly in the previous hotel he had been sent to manage. Compared to this one, only the children and teenagers were approachable. Every other adult here was practically groomed for high society life. They assumed the same for him, the son of the resort owner, though it was all an act on his part.

What he would give to leave it all behind, to visit Butterfly Corner without having to sneak out in a disguise after work, to be employed there and work alongside you.

Talking to Aunt Sohee was forbidden in their household, especially when she had long cut herself off from the family. She may have had a broken relationship with his mum, but that didn’t apply for him, her beloved nephew. The first time he visited her bookstore was also the first time he had seen her in a while.

All thoughts of the bookstore dissipated upon reaching the entrance of the resort, his footsteps coming to an abrupt halt. His eyes had to be playing tricks on him. Either that, or the sight before him was a very realistic elaborate illusion.

Both his older brother and younger sister stood in front of the double glass doors.

There were three possible explanations for their sudden arrival. One, he missed a family update; two, Namjoon warned him about a gathering that he had forgotten to schedule; three, this was a surprise visit. He immediately opted for the third.

“Hey, little bro!” Sang-jun headed over to where he was still frozen to the spot, the greeting forcing him to quickly wipe the surprise off of his face, replacing it with a neutral stare.

A sigh was how Shin-hye chose to say hello. “Took you long enough.”

The way Sang-jun slung his arm over his shoulders made him bristle. He had never formed a close relationship with his brother; it was impossible with the sibling rivalry that had brewed in them since they were born. From grades, to getting a better internship, to job prospects after graduation. Everything was a competition, one that Seokjin had long grown tired of.

Shin-hye had been the mediator between them at one point, but she had been quick to come under the influence of their mother, growing to see Sohee as the black sheep of the family. They were considerably closer, though it wasn’t to the point where he would entrust her with secrets. He certainly wasn’t going to tell her about you anytime soon.

“Well, you don’t have to look so excited,” Sang-jun’s comment earned him an eye roll.

Seokjin didn’t bother beating around the bush. “Did I miss something? What are you both doing here?”

“Aww, come on, bro. We missed you, that’s all,” he wasn’t shy about lying, nor was Shin-hye when she scoffed at his bluntness.

“Mum told us to have breakfast with you. Check up on how you’re doing and all that,” she supplied, the answer much more believable. No way would they willingly come here on their own. The last time they had spoken was their parents’ anniversary, and that was three months ago.

If it really was an order from their mum, who was he to refuse? She probably expected them to report back to her on what they discussed – in that case, he had no other option. Walking to the entrance with a gesture for them to follow was his response, every staff member they passed bowing to them instinctively, the three Kim siblings, heirs to the future empire their father had inherited. No one dared to show any disrespect. Even the guests who were in their path moved out of the way, the presence of three powerful-looking adults undoubtedly intimidating them.

Heading over to the hotel cafe, one serving breakfast and high tea, Seokjin quickly chose a three-seater, not bothering to check if they were okay with being beside the window with a view of the lake. It was far enough away from the other guests to hear their conversation. That was all that mattered.

Breakfast was served in no time flat. Multi-coloured and flavoured macarons, cakes and pastries were artfully displayed on a ceramic plate stand. Mini cucumber sandwiches decorated smaller ones placed on the table next to them, alongside bowls with an assortment of freshly cut fruit.

China cups were delivered with the option for tea or coffee poured by the mildly-trembling hands of a nervous waitress, the unlucky one chosen to serve them. A splotch of chrysanthemum splashed the napkin underneath his sister’s utensils, to which Shin-hye raised a brow and Seokjin offered her a smile of thanks to hopefully soothe her nerves.

“Quite a nice place you got here,” Sang-jun glanced around the room, but coming from him, he wasn’t sure if it meant something. This was only one branch owned by their father – he had seen places far more impressive. “Father outdone himself again.”

Another forced laugh from Shin-hye. “Mum’s the one who designed it,” she shook her head, taking a delicate sip of tea. “Dad never had an eye for this sort of thing.”

Seokjin merely rolled his eyes. He knew his siblings. They always had an ulterior motive. “When you two are done talking about the décor, how about you tell me why you’re really here?”

“Right, right! Of course,” his brother clapping his hands seemed to conduct enough electricity to jolt every waiter, receptionist and chef in the vicinity. Did they need anything else? Was the food adequate? Had the waitress fainted from the stress of pouring tea so they had to replace her? “This is why I like you, little bro! A real straight shooter.”

“We heard that mum’s been scheduling a lot of dates for you lately,” Shin-hye smirked, undeniably out of pity for those poor girls. Rather them than him. “Find anyone special yet?”

Now it was his turn to laugh humourlessly. “They’re all the same. Honestly,” he looked his sister dead in the eye, “it’s like I’m meeting a different version of you every evening.”

Sang-jun’s boisterous laugh reverberated off the walls, a sound that sent another shock wave through the employees and overpowered Shin-hye’s indignant huff.

“Should have known it takes more than designer dresses to impress you. Or is it the perfume you don’t like? What are you wearing, Shin? Saint Laurent? Coco Chanel?”

“Work is more important to me right now, anyway,” Seokjin set his tea cup down with finality, blatantly ignoring Sang-jun’s teasing jab at their sister. “Mum should just be glad that two of her children are attached.”

“Instead,” Shin-hye inspected her blood red nails, in case they were soiled from the mini sandwich within her grasp, “she’s worrying about the only one who isn’t.”

There was one person he was interested in. You. Could he tell them that? No. Or you’d be kicked out of the small town before he had anything to say about it.

Sang-jun shook his head with a sad sigh. “What a shame. With that face, you could have anyone begging on their knees.”

“Mum’s already stressed about Aunt Sohee being back in town,” one of her red nails now pointed at him accusingly. “The least you could do is lessen her worries and get a girlfriend already.”

The way his brother’s eyes lit up at the mention of their aunt did not go unnoticed by Seokjin. An uncomfortable feeling twisted his heart. Sang-jun, should he have been born a criminal instead of an heir, would be the type of person who could commit a crime but convincingly prove that his hands were clean. There was something he had in common with their younger sister, and it was the disdain for their aunt.

But what could he do, really? Other than buy over the ownership of the building she was using. He had no interest in Butterfly Corner, so that was questionable. What stiffened him with concern would be Sang-jun discovering his secret visits, or worse, finding out about you.

“Really?” Sang-jun’s lips curved into a half-smile. “I didn’t know she was here.”

Internally willing his sister to say nothing more about the matter was useless. Last time he checked, telepathy was non-existent.

“She owns a bookstore now, the one down the road. Butterfly… something, I don’t know. Hwan drove past it on the way here.”

“I see,” his brother must have felt Seokjin’s sudden quietness, or noted the way he was intently staring at the tea. “Did you know about this?”

It was amazing how his casual glance felt like a silent interrogation. A single wrong movement and he was done for, but he didn’t plan on backing down, not like he had in the past. He stared right back at him, the fire in his eyes presenting a challenge of his own.

“I’ve never left the resort since I was posted here,” his voice was steady. “Just ask Namjoon. He’ll give you my schedule if you’re curious.”

The quietness that followed, broken by the soft classical music in the overhead speakers, was tense enough to cut with the butter knife lying untouched on the table.

Until Sang-jun laughed tightly with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I don’t need to know what you’re doing every minute of the day, Seokjinnie. Relax. But, speaking of schedules,” he got up, brushing invisible specks of dust off his blazer, “I have a meeting with the board of directors in half an hour. Good talk, though. We should do this again soon.”

“Totally,” at least he could read Shin-hye like an open book, not that she troubled herself to hide her emotions as she got to her feet. “Seriously, Seokjin, it wouldn’t kill you to at least pick someone. You don’t even have to like them.”

When they were out of sight, every last bit of oxygen returned to the room, Seokjin slumping into the armchair as it filled his lungs once more.

This was why he hated family meetings.

⊱✿⊰

Your eyes closed, you could almost feel the warmth of Jin’s hand in your own, a barely there, ghost-like touch before it was blown away the wind caressing your palm. You were beginning to believe that he had enchanted you. The effect he had on your heart was impossible to ignore, because you couldn’t get him off your mind already.

At the same time, it made no sense. You hardly knew anything about the guy other than his name. One syllable which stuck with you for the rest of the night and no surname that came with it. It added on to the mysterious aura he had about him, and you couldn’t deny it left you wanting to know more.

On the flip side, you couldn’t allow yourself to be attracted, or entertain anything going beyond a customer and part-time helper relationship. That’s all it was, all it would ever be. But your own heart betrayed you the second you walked up to the bookstore that morning. You found yourself glancing around the street a couple of times, three days after you had last spoken, in search of that familiar black cap.

Something he said during his latest visit was a smack to your head. He mentioned he read it while he was working. It was a nine-to-six job, which was why he only came after sunset. Seeing as you didn’t know where he worked either, there was no way you could gauge where he was in the daytime.

You shook your head to yourself. This was you being ridiculous at its finest. The ring of a bell pulled you out of your daydreaming, indicating your order from the Sweet Shoppe was ready. Some chocolate pancakes, two raspberry scones, and a cup of mocha packed in a pink and white striped paper bag would fill the stomachs of you and Miss Sohee for the morning, but your light steps drew up short noticing a black Mercedes pulling up before Butterfly Corner.

A man in a crisp suit who stepped out did nothing to quell the wave of curiosity currently washing over you. You didn’t need to be a genius to figure out that he was an aristocrat; the car and his outfit were dead giveaways that his family had the cash to afford wearing and travelling in luxury.

It could have been the way his bangs were parted to reveal his forehead, or his eyes dark as the night itself, but you could have sworn he resembled Jin for a second.

He hadn’t noticed that you were there. With his back facing you, the expression on his face was a mystery while he surveyed the exterior, but you had a sinking suspicion he was judging it.

The door to the bookstore slid open. Miss Sohee probably thought it was you from the cheery expression on her face, one that quickly morphed into shock at the sight of the man.

You recognised that look. She knew him, and he knew her too.

He headed up the steps, just to face her fully, allowing you to catch a glimpse of his side profile and the smirk that was etched on his face.

Although the Sweet Shoppe wasn’t very far from the bookstore, you weren’t able to hear anything. Their entire conversation was lost to the wind and the ongoing traffic of people and the occasional vehicle driving past. All you had to go by was their body language. You had never seen your boss so tense in the span of time you worked there – her white-knuckled fingers had a death grip on the hem of her shirt.

Barely five minutes passed in their exchange, you gripping the paper bag hard enough to hurt. Out of nowhere, the man walked towards her with slow, calculated steps, his height giving him an added advantage to loom over her menacingly.

Is he threatening her? The urge to run over, jump in, just do something to help her against that man flared up in you, battling against every fibre of your taut being. You were a passive bystander; you couldn’t imagine how she felt actually having to deal with him up close and personal. That appeared to be the final point he wanted to get across to her since he headed back down the steps straight after, and even you felt like you could breathe again once your boss was left alone.

Miss Sohee collapsed onto the porch chair, not bothering to look at the shiny car pulling away. You tried to get a better look at the man by subtly craning your neck and peering through the black tinted glass windows when it moved past you, but it was no use when he kept his head down.

You waited for the car to drive out of sight to head over. She didn’t know you had seen everything, and you knew better than to ask her about the unpleasant exchange. The bag of treats you placed softly on the table alerted her of your return.

“Thank you, _____,” she gave you a smile, a small one, but a smile nonetheless. “You took a while. Was there a long queue?”

“Huh? Oh, uh, you could say that,” sliding into the seat on the opposite side, you let her have the first pick of the food.

“Is… everything okay, Miss Sohee?”

There was a long pause. So long, the scraping of her chair startled you as she suddenly rose to her feet.

Why had you asked when you already knew the answer?

“I just remembered… I have to run a quick errand,” her tone became slightly apologetic. “Think you can hold down the fort?”

“Sure, of course.”

And then she was gone, discomfort making a home in your chest looking at the unoccupied seat she had been in a second ago.

Something was definitely wrong.

⊱✿⊰

A rose to your face was how Jin greeted you, the same day that Miss Sohee had gone to run an errand earlier in the morning, and didn’t return… at least, not yet.

Managing the bookstore was a piece of cake. Only, without your boss, the place felt emptier than usual. There weren’t as many people buying books as those who had stayed to read, as per normal. Some of them did purchase one or two as gifts. In total, you had twenty listed names in the journal, ready to be presented to her when she returned.

Make that twenty-one thanks to Jin’s sudden appearance.

“Perfect, isn’t it?” He beamed, watching you observe the flower, a smile coming easily to your lips. The thorns weren’t something you had to worry about – he had gone the extra mile to place it in a white stone vase. “It was born at the same moment as the sun.”

The quote from the movie. He had watched it, not just sticking to reading the book. Your cheeks were dusted the same shade as the petals soon enough, but there was a second reason, other than how he had invested time to learn the story.

This was the first time you were receiving a flower, and from a boy, no less. Roses catapulted to the top spot of your favourite flower list since watching The Little Prince. In the back of your mind, you wondered if you should let him know, to give him that little boost of confidence that his methods of befriending you were working.

Another part of you, a minuscule, insignificant part, dreadfully entertained the other implications of the red rose signifying romantic love.

“Thank you,” you placed the vase on the counter carefully where you could admire it for the days to come. Going back around to your usual position, gratitude seeped into your veins towards your past self who prepared the sequel for him to purchase by storing it behind the counter.

Your fingers traced over the smooth blue cover for a moment. The only thing the publisher, or illustrator, had gotten wrong was the colour of the main character’s hair. It was blond, not black, as stated in the first book.

“Did you like the story?” You asked, glancing up at Jin, but looking at his face from that distance froze you to the spot.

The guy who visited that morning, the one you suspected looked like him, really did appear to have similar features now that you were so close. Only half a metre separated you from him. His mouth was moving, no doubt going on about what he enjoyed from The Girl Who Could Fly, yet none of the things he was uttering were being processed in your head.

Jin’s eyes were lighter than the stranger’s. That much you were certain of – you remembered the colour of his irises were closer to obsidian black. The stranger’s jawline wasn’t as defined, more on the rounder side, light bouncing off them in the same way. A mental picture of Jin with a cap on forced itself into your brain, and you took a small step back, because with that image, the resemblance was uncanny.

Was it possible for two complete strangers to look so similar?

It took you five elongated seconds to register that Jin’s lips were no longer moving, nor was there any sound between you, unless the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze was counted. You were just… staring. Staring at him, directly in the eyes, for who knew how long.

You were the first to snap out of it, shaking your head and blinking, feeling your skin burn hot enough to rival the sun. Not only had you been studying his face, you also hadn’t been listening to a single word he said.

“S-sorry,” the records book served as a great excuse for you to look elsewhere for a long while. Grabbing the nearest pen, you took your own sweet time to jot the title down, his gaze on you searing into your face while sending shivers down your spine.

He laughed. “It’s cool. No one can pass by without doing a double take at my face, either.”

“Huh,” his joke restored enough of your confidence to connect your eyes with his again, your lips twisting into a smile. “Normally, narcissism is a real turn-off for me, but it’s working on you.”

Whether or not it sounded like you were flirting, it was far too late for you to retract.

“It’s not narcissism, darling. It’s self-confidence,” Jin leaned in, the same way he had those previous two nights.

Despite the way you practically hopped from one foot to another in nervousness and embarrassment, you crossed your arms, trying out this “self-confidence” that he was going on about for yourself.

“You know,” you swallowed at what you were about to say, gaze trailing off to the side where the reading area was, “you don’t have to leave right after you buy this.”

There was a pause where you could literally hear him grin. “If you want me to stay, all you have to do is ask.”

What you wanted to ask for was a fire extinguisher or an ice pack for your face – its temperature was higher than a supernova. Not even the dim lighting could save you as you busied yourself with keeping the records book.

You dared to believe that he was the one flirting, but the thought nearly threw your insistence of keeping to a customer and store helper relationship out of the window. Nearly. Besides, you didn’t understand why he would be flirting in the first place.

“But if you’re busy, you should go,” you quickly reassured him in the knowledge that he had a job to do.

Again with the oddly adorable squeegee sounds. He wasn’t doing your cardiac health any good. “Wow. Girls really say one thing and mean another.”

Jin took the book and headed over to the small chair in the rest area, much to your surprise. So he really was going to stay. A small pot of peppermint tea had been prepared, placed above a candle holder to keep warm. The flame flickered just a little as he removed it to pour it into two china cups. Wait… two?

Almost as if he had read your mind, he gestured for you to go over. “Come have some tea.”

Your legs were soon moving against your better judgment, the sweet liquid assaulting your tongue and throat within seconds. By right, the tea was reserved only for the customers, though you snuck in a cup or two each time Miss Sohee wasn’t attentive to you. You liked to think that the person who made it should have the liberty of tasting some.

A yellow blur flew into your line of sight, before a citrine-winged butterfly perched itself on the table atop a vase of lily of the valley, a creature you were thankful for since it gave you a reason to quietly glance at him.

“I really should be working…” you commented mostly to yourself, but who were you kidding? The two of you were alone, and even if there were people, he was too big a distraction.

“You are,” sounds of his fingers flipping the pages reached your ears. “You sold me this book, which was probably the highlight of your day.”

The spark in your heart instantly used his words as fuel. You ignored it for now. “You’re the second highlight, actually.”

“Oh?” A competitive edge twitched one of his brows up to his hairline and pulled his lips into a smirk. “Who dares to compete?”

Your gaze stayed on the flowers, “Well, there was a guy who visited this morning…”

The firm shut of pages on paper returned your eyes to his to catch him leaning forward, all traces of the smirk vanishing fast. “A guy?”

Playfulness etched itself into a tiny half-smile of your own. “Yup,” a dreamy sigh, fingers entwining together to stretch forward on your legs, sliding back in your seat, “he wore a suit, in a small town like this. It was… eye-catching, to say the least.”

He cleared his throat, gaze sharper than normal, “Did he talk to you?”

“No. I was across the street when he came, but he did talk to Miss Sohee. He seemed to be…” your eyebrows furrowed as if to aid you in finding the right words, “threatening her. I don’t know; I didn’t hear their conversation, but it seemed that way to me.”

“Also…” your teeth assaulted a corner of your bottom lip, “he kinda looks like you.”

You had seen your friends gush over a guy poking his tongue into his cheek – you just never understood how it was attractive till you saw a small bulge at the side of his face, his stare practically burning a hole in the teacup. Tension hung in the air between you for the first time since you’ve met, effective in wiping out the lingering mischievousness you felt seconds ago, uncertainty taking its place.

The way the chair legs dragged across the floor seemed to generate enough electricity to jolt your heart in its steady rhythm. Jin got up, wasting no time in heading over to you with a white card he pulled out of his pocket, a bunch of numbers hidden under the curve of his thumb.

“In case that guy comes again,” his seriousness was concerning, “tell me, alright? And if you can, try not to let him see you.”

You swallowed not just saliva, but also the weight of his words that lay heavily in the air, “Do you know him?”

He sighed, shoulders slumping, “I might. Believe me when I say he will cause trouble for you eventually.”

Gently, he pulled your hand up to meet his, pressing the smooth piece of cardboard into the centre of your palm. You ignored the roar of your heart in your ears at the way he curled your fingers around it, choosing to concentrate on a ruby butterfly floating above and across your hands.

“This is definitely the strangest way a guy has given me his number…” you didn’t have the energy to dwell on whether or not your meagre attempt to flirt sounded awkward – you weren’t even sure yourself if that was how people flirted these days.

But his smile, a decidedly better look on him than his previous expression, said otherwise. “And how many guys would that be?”

Warmth from his hand seeped through your veins, spreading across your chest. “None,” you smiled, perfectly content about him winning this round, “you’re the first.”

⊱✿⊰

His blush, coupled with the heat of sun rays piercing through the glass walls of the five-star restaurant, would have to compensate for the warmth Seokjin felt at the memory of his hands caressing yours. Till the click-clacking of heels against marble slammed reality back into him at freight-train speed, its source his second blind date of the week set up by his parents who lifted the skirt of her glaringly red Louis Vuitton dress to sit. Pain forming between his eyes worsened at the hundredth string of diamonds and rubies practically woven around her neck – where did all their jewelry even come from?

He wasn’t that much of a jerk to block her voice out completely, though he was certain Namjoon or Jungkook would sympathise should he tell them it was feeding him meaningless gossip going around tabloids featuring celebrities he had no interest in. But he couldn’t control it when his thoughts turned to you.

A bright flash of light changed his date, whose name he couldn’t recall at the moment, to you. You in the seat before him, your Peach tea cap on your head, those down-to-earth jeans and shirt, a gorgeous smile on your face and your eyes glimmering with the collection of every constellation reflecting off of them.

Next came a ripple effect, this time affecting the restaurant, switching his surroundings to a gazebo at the beach he wanted to take you to one day, perhaps on your first date. Ocean waves crashing on shore mingled with your giggles as you flicked a grape at him, one he would try to catch with his mouth in an attempt to impress you and make you laugh harder.

He’d arrange candles in the middle of the table to have some form of illumination after the sunset view faded beyond the horizon. You were more beautiful than the view anyway, a thought he’d let you know with every ounce of sincerity he could muster. It was worth it to see pink coat the apples of your cheeks.

You’re the first.

Your hand was right there, atop on the linen cloth draping the table, inches away from his, one he reached for to feel the warmth of your skin and how perfectly his palm would mould into your own–

A surprised gasp had cracks spiderwebbing the illusion’s surface, shattering like glass to bring him back to reality again, his eyes soon locking on the reason why his fingers felt the smoothness of satin. Seokjin had mistakenly acted in reality what he had done in the daydream, but rather than your hand, his rested on the glove covering his date’s, stopping her midway from where she reached for a napkin.

Unwelcome heat seared into him, but he retracted in a slow, apologetic manner, not to offend her or insinuate that he was repulsed by the contact. It was still too late.

“Finally! I was wondering how long you’d take to make your move.”

Sang-jun’s sudden appearance gave him a valid reason to jolt his hand away, to the disappointment of his date while his brother sauntered over casually. He wasn’t sure to be more thankful for his intrusion or wary about him showing up with no prior warning, most likely both.

“My deepest apologies for cutting your date short, Chun-ae,” he bowed with a flourish of his hand like a magician would when taking his top hat off, “but I need to speak with my brother.”

Obsidian orbs centered on him now. “Family business, I’m afraid.”

Definitely wary.

Seokjin bowed in Chun-ae’s parting, the least he could do for daydreaming to tune her out then causing the misunderstanding that he was mildly interested in her. Time wasn’t on his side to apologise nor clarify his mistake judging by the smile she sent his way, worsened because of his brother’s comment that he would make sure to schedule another dinner.

Sang-jun slid into the seat where she had been with a smirk. “Good choice, little bro. I guess she doesn’t have the Shin-hye vibe you hate so much.”

The fact that he remembered his words from their previous meeting was less surprising than him showing up. Hands folded themselves above his legs, the small vase of a single carnation more worthy of his eye contact. “How’d you know where I was?”

A contented sigh left his lips, his hand grabbing the untouched bottle of champagne to fill an empty flute, crystalline beads splashing out of the glass before they swirled with a twist of his wrist. “Took up your offer to ask Namjoon about your schedule. It was either him or mum, but I figured she has enough on her plate, you know… thanks to our aunt.”

Glass base met the white table cloth once more, Sang-jun’s arms resting horizontally behind it, “Between the two of you, you’re the better liar.”

Honey brown doe eyes flickered up to meet him. He knew, but his sentence had an implication he didn’t fail to miss, confirming what you had told him the night before.

“You visited her.”

“Quite the pretty shop she has,” a quick raise of his glass in his direction like he was toasting preceded the bob of his Adam’s apple as the liquid slid down his throat. “I didn’t get the pleasure of seeing the inside, though. Wasn’t welcome,” his gaze turned icy, “cause I’m not you.”

“But I suppose we’re both in trouble now. We have leverages over each other we can use in the next family reunion. Doesn’t that sound fun?”

This sickening game of back-and-forth was one Sang-jun never could get enough of. And their relatives wondered why they didn’t get along aside from the perfect family portraits he was forced to pose in, the only time they looked happy.

“You’re going to tell on me? By all means,” his calmness rivalled that of a still lake on a spring day. “We’re not kids. I know how to handle our mother.”

His reply, however, didn’t hold the same interest in continuing the topic of getting them in trouble with their parents. “Please, Jinnie. I don’t care about that. What interests me more…” he chuckled darkly, “is my brilliant theory on you.”

Now it was his turn to bark a short laugh. The only interest they had in the last couple of years was staying clear of each other’s paths. “Me?”

“You’ve proven to be the main topic of dinner conversation these days,” deep red corners of Sang-jun’s lips upturned in a smirk, “not that you’d know; you rarely show up.”

Seokjin had no problem pinpointing the reason – the tense atmosphere combined with the judgmental people overruling his life was a table he’d stay far away from, one of them who happened to be seated too comfortably in the velvet chair a metre across him. This entire exchange only emphasised that reason.

His brother shook his head the same time a vice snaked its way around his chest, tightening with every passing second at the prospect of him matching puzzle pieces together. How he worked his way to a high-seating position in their father’s multi-millionaire company was due to his (admittedly) brilliant skills of observation. His particular favourite group of study? Psychology and human interaction, the second major he took in university, voluntarily.

“I didn’t care about you having trouble finding a girlfriend, because, well, you’re the rebel of the family,” Sang-jun braced some of his weight on his elbows to lean forward, “but then, I started thinking. The problem isn’t the girls playing hard-to-get. No, no; Chun-ae had hearts in her eyes the second she saw you.”

“The problem is that you’re simply uninterested in any girl mum throws your way. You couldn’t care less.”

To say it took more effort to keep his face expressionless was an understatement.

“It wasn’t hard when I added up the number of dates, a tip I got from mum, and your recent trips to the bookstore. My original suspicion was you were going there to talk to Aunt Sohee, but you’d only need one visit to do that, nothing more. Our little chat told me your visitations had exceeded that number.”

“Get to the point.” Why did he say those words when he was barely ready in bracing for the impact of the answer?

“Great, something we can agree on,” light bouncing off his irises was just an additional evil glint. “One might deduce that you keep going back there for something… or someone.”

“And if I’m right, that certain someone,” another menacing swirl of the crystal liquid, “managed to catch the eye of my little brother.”

Seokjin was certain the oxygen levels in the room plummeted to negative one in his older brother’s theory spiel. Any sort of response or lack thereof would only serve to confirm his suspicions – he was caught between a rock and a hard place, with Sang-jun dangling the key to freedom on a string before his face.

The drag of his chair and smoothening of his blazer was accompanied by a firm glare, promptly ending their conversation as he rose to his feet.

“Believe what you will, Sang-jun. But know this,” his gaze didn’t waver in the slightest, “neither you nor our parents are in charge of my life, so you best stay out of it.”

Eerie laughter reverberated into his ears from the table as he strode briskly away. “I’ll be sure to congratulate this person on my next visit, little bro!”

⊱✿⊰

Miss Sohee opening the front door in the morning had a tidal wave of relief crashing over you. A smile that you knew was real since it crinkled the corners of her eyes indicated that she was alright, but confirmed what Jin had mentioned two nights prior – if the guy had shaken her up that badly, you couldn’t fathom what it was like handling him by yourself.

You decided not to bring any of it up after you went through the entrance.

“Good morning, _____,” her cheery tone perked your lips upward too, watching as she watered the rose still situated atop the counter. “This rose is lovely. Did you bring it in?”

“No,” heat tinted your cheeks at the memory as you spoke, “it was a gift from a customer. He, uh… he really likes books.”

“Well,” Miss Sohee’s tone seemed to have some sort of hidden meaning, “if he ever shows up again, remind me to thank him. Also, there’s a new shipment coming in soon.”

The familiar sound of a truck pulling up beside the shop, accompanied by Jungkook honking twice to announce his presence, had you heading out the door, only to stop to voice an afterthought with a wink, “Or right now.”

A pink butterfly fluttered off the door handle on the outside when you pushed it open to greet the young man headed to the back of the delivery vehicle. The scene reminded you of helping to stock the library at the resort; five boxes were filled to the brim with books ready to be stored on the shelves for customers’ perusal. The sole difference was you had the green light to access each one and the excitement added an extra spring in your steps.

Another honk, this one long-lasting, resonated from behind you and Jungkook, making him swiftly pull you back to the safety of the sidewalk. This was the second time a polished car pulled up beside the bookstore, red-bottomed Louboutins delicately gracing the gravel before another aristocrat rose out of the Lincoln town, light brown ringlets brushing against a white boat neck tucked into high waisted flared black pants.

You felt Jungkook stiffen where his arm had wrapped around your shoulders to press you into his chest, a quick glance up showing that his facial features had hardened, all traces of a grin he greeted you with gone instantly. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that he knew who she was. The same way the other guy knew Miss Sohee.

The woman removed her sunglasses to rest them against her high ponytail, eyes narrowing on the vintage font boasting the shop’s name.

“I’ll just be a second, Hwan,” she spoke to the driver, the car door held open, “I’m not going to talk to her anyway…”

Her gaze trailed to where you and Jungkook were standing, a beam you could only describe as predatory pulling at her bold red lips becoming clear with every step she took to close the gap, stare fixated more on the delivery boy than you. You didn’t know if that was relieving or nerve-wracking till a thought occurred to you – it wasn’t your turn to be scrutinised. Not yet.

“Well well,” her cream jacket sleeves didn’t wrinkle upon her crossing her arms smoothly over her chest, “I almost didn’t recognise you. That’s quite the glow up, Kookie.”

The harshness of his tone made him sound like a complete stranger, so much so you had to steal another look at him to ensure it was still Jungkook standing behind you. “What are you doing here, Shin-hye?”

“Relax. I’m not here to make a scene,” you couldn’t tell whether or not she was lying, especially watching her shoulders bounce lightly as she chuckled, “I don’t need a reason to visit my aunt, now do I?”

You went still. Her aunt?

This woman was Miss Sohee’s niece?

“So this is her little place, hm?” Shin-hye’s gaze roamed every inch of the bookstore’s exterior and you were now grateful she hadn’t bothered to acknowledge you; your brain was short-circuiting like a fried computer chip doused in water while trying to process this new information. “Can’t say I’m impressed.”

Turning her focus back to the other two people on the sidewalk, her eyes zeroed in on you only for a second before they noticed how Jungkook had his arm around you, grip unwavering.

“Is this your girlfriend?” She shook her head with an air of disappointment. “You could do so much better, Kookie.”

He scoffed, raising a brow. “Like who? You?”

“Wouldn’t that be something.” A perfectly manicured blood red nail ran down the expanse of his short sleeve. “Me and the cute delivery boy. My mother would have a fit.”

Her long, drawn-out sigh was wistful. “Come to think of it…” she leaned in close, maroon lips a breath away from the shell of his ear, “I love how scandalous it seems.”

That statement confirmed the social divide between people of her privileged background and your own mere earnings of ten bucks an hour, a frustrated ire flaring up in your chest, effectively melting the ice that had previously froze your whole body over, verbalised in the next words you addressed her with.

“Back off,” you never heard your own voice so biting in all your life, but if there was one thing you couldn’t stand it was people intimidating those you cared about. “Stop making my friend uncomfortable. If you’re not here to visit the bookstore, then leave.”

Your glare emphasising the commands caught her off-guard for a good two seconds, should the disappearance of her smirk and the way her hand faltered from his shoulder be anything to go by, before she was emitting a dry chuckle, attention fully set on you now.

“Feisty,” there was a certain gleam in her piercing hazel irises knowing you posed a challenge, “I like her. Alright, I’ll go. I wasn’t going to stay long, anyway.”

Catching a whiff of her floral perfume as she stalked past almost made you gag, heels clicking against the stone pavement on her way back to the car. She did, however, halt temporarily behind the car door she pulled open in order to look up at you one last time.

“I’ll be keeping my eye on you, little missy,” Shin-hye pointed the same nail she used to trace Jungkook’s sleeve straight at you, a smug smile twisting at her lips again. “I have a feeling we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other.”

Identical to the indirect encounter you had with the guy who threatened Miss Sohee, you waited for the fancy town car to disappear around a fork in the road to mumble, “I hope not.”

Jungkook letting out a tired sigh prompted your turn to face him, concern softening the edges of your gaze as he ran a hand through his black locks in time while shaking his head a little. Whatever questions you had on how he knew who that woman was were silenced – your priority was checking on him to make sure he was okay, a fact he reassured you of with a gentle pat on your head.

You remained unconvinced in the subsequent silence where both of you carried boxes of books into Butterfly Corner, his inhumane strength allowing him to carry two in his arms in contrast to the singular one in your grasp. Miss Sohee leaning against the edge of the counter wasn’t where you expected to see her, pausing in your tracks the moment you observed her looking in the direction the car had driven off in.

A rueful smile holding no real joyous light graced her face as she looked at you. “You met my niece, didn’t you?”

You could only manage to nod numbly, arms falling limply to your sides when Jungkook took the box out of your grasp and brought it to the storage room, unaffected by the conversation taking place since he already knew what she was talking about.

In the span of time you had worked here and gotten to know your boss, she had never mentioned any of her family members or life outside of being an author. The only thing you knew for sure were her trips across the globe in the seven years she worked as a travel writer, the popularity of her stories aiding her in buying a small space she transformed into the bookstore you were currently standing in. She always appeared too busy working on her next bestseller to share personal stories, nor had you ever made the effort to ask.

“Did you see my nephew too?” Her question wasn’t accusatory, just genuinely curious. “He came here two days ago, the morning you went to the Sweet Shoppe.”

You weren’t as shocked as you had been earlier during Shin-hye’s announcement that she was her aunt, because it made sense now.

The older woman pushed off the counter, steps slow and careful in their approach like she was afraid any sudden movements would scare you off, but you didn’t even blink as her hand came to a rest on your shoulder.

“I know this must seem strange,” her voice, although softer, was audible over the door sliding open and Jungkook bringing the final two boxes inside. “My family situation is… complicated, to say the least. I don’t want you to get caught up in it, but I’m worried that you will because I let you work here.”

You gulped, the implication of her words causing your chest to constrict tighter with every passing second. “Are you… letting me go?”

“What?” Despite being flummoxed by your out of the blue query, she was quick to shake her head in negation. “No, my dear, of course not. I know you love being here, and I’ll never find someone as passionate as you.”

“I’m just warning you,” there was a serious edge in her tone hardening the round of her eyes you couldn’t help going stiff at, “they will come back and cause trouble. Now that they know I’m back, it’s unlikely they’ll leave me alone.”

“Huh,” you mumbled, mostly to yourself, “that’s exactly what Jin said.”

“Jin?”

Jungkook was the one who spoke this time, both brows quirking, an emotion crossing his face you couldn’t quite pinpoint. “Who’s that?”

“Just a customer who comes here often. He gave me the rose.”

Telepathy was apparently a superpower you were just finding out both he and Miss Sohee had – an unspoken conversation passed between their eyes for a solid three seconds, then your boss was addressing you again.

“_____, why don’t you take tomorrow off?” The request, albeit gentle, wasn’t so much of a suggestion rather than an instruction you didn’t dare to argue or question. “Go visit Hoseok at the dance studio. I think he misses you.”

“More like misses my chocolate-covered strawberry cupcakes,” you found yourself relaxing after the comment lightened the tension that had settled around the bookstore, all the more when Jungkook perked up at the mention of the treats he knew you could bake better than anyone.

“Oh, can you make some for me? Please?”

“Kookie, they’re five hundred calories each–“

⊱✿⊰

Moonlight cutting through a gap in his curtains shining onto his mobile nearly tricked him into thinking his phone had received a new text. Half of Seokjin felt disappointed seeing no notifications from you lighting his screen up, while the other half of him felt relieved because it meant his brother hadn’t visited the bookstore the way he had warned him on his last date before he left the restaurant.

He did hope there was a small chance of you simply texting him to ask how his day had gone. His frequent visits had to have changed your impression of him by now, going beyond just another regular customer to friend, and perhaps something more in the future should it be kind to him. Yet, maybe it was foolish of him to think that way by the thirtieth time he refreshed his inbox to see nothing sent by an unsaved number.

Spinning in his swivel chair, he glanced at the crescent moon illuminating a corner of the midnight sky, a single star twinkling not too far off. All it reminded him of was the way its light would shine through the glass window pane in the bookstore, beams shining on you where you were perched on the chair with a book cupped between your palms.

Were you thinking of him as much as he was thinking of you?

A sigh of resignation slipping past his petaled lips was overpowered by three knocks against the door’s surface, resonating in his quiet office, of which he called aloud to whoever it was to come in.

It was a pair of casual blue jeans moving past the wooden frame that puzzled him first, an attire much too casual for normal resort guests to be caught dead in, then it morphed into shock the moment the woman pulled a pair of black sunglasses off her face. No one wore those at night, but it was for shielding her eyes from being recognised by anyone in the lobby and on the way up here, not to make a bold fashion statement.

“Aunt Sohee?”

Scrambling to his feet, he ignored the sudden blood rush to his head tilting the room just a little and her harsh shh! the same time she motioned for him to settle down. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you,” slow, almost cautious steps were soundless on the carpeted floor. He noting how her lips were set in a firm line, a direct contrast to her warm greeting many days ago during his first visit. “Your secretary’s gone, by the way. It’s the only reason I could come in.”

Namjoon had left to purchase something on the street Butterfly Corner was stationed, the same road he had every intention of visiting the second he got off work until this unprecedented visit happened. Sheer luck had been on her side that Sang-jun hadn’t decided to spontaneously show up or was lurking somewhere in the giant lobby.

Either way, Seokjin trusted that his aunt had been the most careful she had ever been when she had set foot on the marble resort grounds.

“Can we talk for a minute?”

Her seriousness piqued his curiosity and tensed him up in equal measure. “Yeah, of course.”

The black leather sofas and cream love seats were finally put to good use – he settled in a chair on her right, watching how she observed an unlit candle wick in the center of the mahogany coffee table, hands folded carefully on her lap and the way she opted to sit up straight instead of lean against the backrest.

“I don’t have a lot of time, so I’ll get straight to the point,” Sohee glanced at him then, his hands tightening their grip on the ends of his blazer at her solemn expression. “It’s about _____.”

If anyone were to peer closely at his outfit, the jacket would look like someone had missed two spots while ironing it; more fabric crumpled into his palms the stronger his grasp became.

“I know you’ve been visiting the bookstore,” she went on, tone light, “but it’s not just to buy books, is it?”

His shoulders slumped slightly, only because the other person he didn’t find the need to lie around was his aunt. “No.”

A corner of her lips pulled up in a half-smile then, encouraging him to relax further into the cushion. “You like her, don’t you?”

Silence enveloped the room again, serving as his response, but confirmed by a singular nod directed more at his shoes than her since his head had lowered in mild embarrassment.

“I can see why,” Sohee was smiling for real this time. “_____’s a sweetheart. She reminds me of who Shin-hye could be if it weren’t for the luxury she grew up with. And speaking of, Shin-hye and _____ met this morning.”

The speed at which his head looked back up was enough for his neck muscles to cramp, “What?”

“Shin-hye came to the bookstore this morning. She didn’t talk to me, but Jungkook and _____ were unloading books when she drove over.”

Discomfort ebbed in his chest where his heart twisted uncomfortably, the mental image of his sister talking down to you furrowing his brow into what could be considered a glare.

“Did she say anything to her? Or Jungkook?”

“Nothing bad, as far as I know. But _____ knows that she’s my niece,” she told him gently, “and that Sang-jun’s my nephew. You haven’t told her who you are, have you?”

“No,” he sighed for the second time that day. “She did tell me I look like Sang-jun, though.”

Her gaze softened around the edges while contemplating on her next few words, mouth opening and closing once before she was speaking again.

“Seokjin, if you’re serious about _____, then you know you can’t keep her in the dark forever,” as much as he didn’t want to hear it, he knew that was the truth. “I won’t stop you from pursuing her. Truth be told, you have my full support. But she has to know what she’s getting into.”

“Your family… no,” she shook her head, correcting the descriptive term “our family isn’t going to be accepting of her, not after what happened to me. You know that. Just promise me you’ll think about what I said, before anything else happens.”

It was as if Sohee’s final words were their only warning before the start of another disaster no one had seen coming.

The office door nearly flew off its hinges as Namjoon came barrelling into the room, tie askew around the collar of his button down, chest heaving in exertion from what he assumed his rush to reach judging by the sheen of perspiration dampening his forehead.

“Hyung,” his old friend panted, “there’s something I need to–“

Namjoon cut himself off upon noticing his aunt, someone who shouldn’t be in the room, his eyes going impossibly wide. “Aunt Sohee?”

“Joon,” Seokjin spoke, voice calm, a complete juxtaposition of the ice cold dread settling within his stomach, “what happened?”

“It’s your mum. She’s at the bookstore right now.”

⊱✿⊰

The weight of the watering can in your palm brought back memories of Jin’s first arrival at Butterfly Corner. You were in exactly the same position you were now, propped up on a small stool, feeding the curling ivy its daily dose for the tiny white buds to blossom the next day. If only the door would open right at the second for him to enter, an inquiry for another book his way of greeting you, or maybe he’d present you with a second flower to give the only rose a companion on the counter.

As much as you knew it was wrong to harbour premature feelings for someone you barely knew, you couldn’t pay no heed to the spark he had lit in your heart since meeting him. You were pulled towards him like a moth to a flame, with the exception that you were willing to be burned.

A crescent moon hung in the darkened expanse of sky while the rest of the orb was hidden by clouds, a physical representation of your regular train of thought blocked by the shroud of mystery that was Jin, one you believed your time together would shine a beacon of light on.

Perchance your imaginings had been heard by said moon, you were unable to fight the hopeful smile gracing your face and whirling you around to face the door that pushed open.

“Jin?”

Only for a woman to step inside and shatter your wishful thinking.

Her light grey coat gave off the high society vibe she was undoubtedly going for, square sunglasses outlined in gold metal removing themselves to sit atop her flawlessly curled head of hair for her eyes to zero in on you. The distance didn’t prevent you from noticing that they were the same shade of obsidian black, accented with a certain iciness that seemed to emanate from her entire being, creeping its way to where you stood, frozen.

“Hello,” her greeting was curt, lacking any warmth that was slowly seeping out of the homey bookstore the moment she had entered. “I’m looking for Yun Sohee. She’s the owner of this place, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Y-yes, miss,” your words sounded as shaky as you felt, “but I’m afraid Miss Sohee’s not around right now. She left the bookstore fifteen minutes ago. May I… um, help to relay your message instead?”

You didn’t know it was possible for her gaze to become that much more hostile.

“I assume since you’re working here, you have her number, correct?”

Your nod, though microscopic, wasn’t missed by her sharp glare.

“Then call Sohee and tell her that her half-sister, Kim Chae-yeong, is here to speak to her. And if she’s not back within the next five minutes, I will have no problem shutting this place down immediately.”

The watering can was lost to the floor.