#like was he working for his father was he already hustling was he a golden boy

[pynkhues]

I've been wondering a bit recently when Louis' father died, and am apparently late to the party because they literally tell us in the first ep! He's 32 at the start of the series (he and Lestat are courting for a year before he's turned at 33), so he would've been 27 when his father died/when he took over the estate.

[ak319]

Lovesick Village Boy x Fem civil servant reader

《Beloved's Veil》

(Warnings: will have themes like possession/horror and abuse) This story will have more than two parts, so enjoy🌼

"Do you like it this far, Ma'am? The village?" Odai’s voice cut through the soft hum of the engine, drawing your gaze to the rearview mirror where his eyes met yours.

"Yes, it’s quite peaceful. I've never lived in a village before."

"You’ll love it, Ma’am. It’s indeed peaceful, which is good for someone like you who enjoys working in a calm environment. The beauty here adds more to the experience." He smiled, his eyes glinting with nostalgia. "This is my second time here. I once drove the Commissioner on a visit. The people are kind too."

"Mhm." You nodded thoughtfully as Odai slowed the car down on a narrow street. Your eyes wandered, taking in the surroundings--quaint homes with old wooden doors, vibrant rugs hung on balconies, and villagers watching the car with curious eyes. "But even the smallest villages have their dark sides. Crime, hardship--they exist everywhere."

"Indeed, ma'am." Odai's voice took on a more serious edge. "I kept news of your arrival under wraps, which is why no one's gathering around our cars." You glanced back at the security vehicle trailing behind, steady and unobtrusive.

"Good," you mused, lighting a cigarette, the flicker of the flame momentarily catching your gaze. "Maybe they are not happy to get a new DC so soon." You chuckled softly, exhaling smoke into the still air. "And what about the other task I gave you? Judging by those wary glances, it might be working."

"Yes, ma'am. I handled it." You'd instructed Odai to spread rumors before your arrival, whispers about your uncompromising nature--how you were a stickler for the law, an officer with unshakeable honesty. It was a strategy you'd wanted to test, a way to plant seeds before even setting foot in Al Razeh. Spread your roots before you even step into the territory, you thought with quiet satisfaction, watching the smoke curl and dissipate into the air, like invisible tendrils laying claim to the village before you.

You, (Y/n), had just been appointed as the Deputy Commissioner, DC, of a district called Kamandik, and your new office--and residence--was nestled in the village of Al-Razeh. It was a quiet place, far from the hustle of the city, a change you welcomed after the long, exhausting journey. Coming from a distinguished family, it almost seemed like destiny had led you to this path. Your lineage boasted army officers, doctors, and civil servants. Your father, a retired military man, had served with distinction, and your mother, an army doctor, had met him through her service. It was that kind of background that had built your discipline and drive.

"Is the Assistant Commissioner going to be there?" you asked, gazing out at the unfamiliar landscape as you approached.

"He will arrive tomorrow, ma'am. His flight got cancelled for today." Odai replied.

Good. You felt a sense of relief. One less formality for today. You leaned back into the seat, letting the exhaustion sink in, already imagining the stillness of your new residence awaiting you.

═════ ◈ ═════

"But I want you to work with me, my son," the old man said, his shivering hands reaching out as his weak, but soft gaze fell upon his youngest. Habib--the kindest, gentlest, and most beautiful of his sons--stood there, looking down at his father. His pale green eyes and thin, golden locks were a wonder, something the village marveled at since his birth. His father, prayed each day that God would grant his son a life as beautiful as he appeared, for Habib had known nothing but pain because of this beauty--this curse.

"Baba, you know they don’t want me to," Habib began, his voice barely a whisper, catching in his throat before it could fully form. The familiar heaviness of his situation silenced him completely as soon as his oldest brother, Basim, strode into the room with an air of command.

"Baba, how many times must we go through this?" Basim’s voice cut through the room like a blade. "I told you--he is not working, and that’s final!"

"He is going to work in the store I go to! With me! He has to do something."

"Him? Are you serious? " Kadir despite being not having the desired strength at the moment stood up from the bed and Habib immediately supported him, his own eyes casted down in his brother's presence.

"Basim, you seem to forget that I am still alive," Kadir said, his voice low but firm, "and I am very much capable of making decisions for this house. Do you hear me?" His words hung in the air, heavy with authority, and Basim, eyes flickering between his father and younger brother, clenched his jaw before storming out of the room, leaving a tense silence in his wake.

Habib finally exhaled the breath he'd been holding, his shoulders sagging slightly. "Don’t be afraid, son," Kadir soothed, resting a reassuring hand on his son's cheek. "I’m here for you. I will always be."

Habib nodded, pressing his lips softly to his father’s weathered fingers. "Just follow what I tell you in the shop," Kadir continued, "and you’ll learn the work in no time."

Outwardly, the Jafaris appeared to be a humble, respectable family--Kadir himself was a respected elder in the community, with his two eldest sons already married. But beneath the surface, the Jafaris were infamous. And though it seemed like many things, perhaps the real reason for the rumors that clung to them like shadows was just one thing--Habib.

Habib woke with a start, his heart pounding as he scanned his dimly lit bedroom. The narrow terrace window was open, a detail he couldn't remember opening himself. No, wait, he had opened it earlier, hadn't he? The memory was foggy. He looked down at the book in his lap, the dim light from the terrace lamp casting strange shadows around the room. Quickly, he turned on the side lamp, its bright light offering a small sense of relief.

He ran his fingers over the pages of The Book of Kings. The words seemed to mirror his own sorrow: “On my heart, this pain and sorrow are so abundant, in mourning for you, the assault on my anxious heart is endless. O heart, you are with me, but you constantly mourn the lost beloved. Every day, we remember you, and at night, we weep for your love, as if my heart cannot reach any solace from your absence and this pain has no remedy.”

Indeed, there seemed to be no remedy. The ache and torment felt as fresh and unyielding as if it had happened just yesterday.

His footsteps were light as he stepped out of his chamber, and with a whispered prayer, he made his way to the kitchen. It was 10 p.m., and most people had gone to bed by 9. He had missed dinner once again. The worried faces of his parents flashed through his mind, contrasting sharply with the indifferent expressions of his brothers.

As he approached the dishes stacked in a corner--likely left there by his mother--he began to prepare his plate. Suddenly, a chill ran down his spine, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, signaling someone's presence behind him.

'No, please-'

The words of the cleric, Nazim, echoed in his mind: “Remember, my boy, never be afraid of anything, for these things feed on fear.” Despite the reminder, he remained paralyzed, his fear not only of the unknown but also of the possibility that it might be Basim, who wasn’t pleased with what Father had said earlier.

The plate in his hand nearly dropped when the person touched him. "God!--Uncle, it’s me, it’s me, Rahim. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you...""

"It’s alright, Rahim." The teenager, Rahim, was the son of Basim, his oldest nephew, and also his best friend. "Why are you awake?"

Rahim smirked and leaned against the counter. "Just couldn’t sleep," his playful demeanor shifted to concern as he took in his young uncle’s appearance. "Uncle... were you sick again?"

"I’m always sick, nothing to worry about."

"You should take better care of yourself. I worry about you. And..." Rahim hesitated, "I doubt that--"

"Rahim, I’m fine. And no, it’s gone. Long gone. Believe me. I’m just... going through some side effects."

"Wow, all that pain and now side effects too, even when you’re free from it? It’s been years! You should see an actual doctor." Rahim was just a toddler when his uncle was afflicted in a way he never imagined possible. Yet, he remembered it all like a vivid nightmare.

"Rahim, please. I am fine," Habib reassured, his voice soft but firm, trying to mask the lingering shadows of his past.

The boy decided to drop the topic for now with an unconvinced sigh. "I brought those pastries you love."

"Why?! You know Brother Basim--"

"Uncle, please. It’s my pocket money, and I get to buy whatever I want for whoever I want." Rahim smiled, and Habib couldn’t help but chuckle, the sound light and comforting in the quiet of the kitchen.

Rahim’s grin widened. He always loved seeing his uncle, who was more like an older brother to him, happy. "Shall I make tea?"

"No, I'll make it. I don't want you waking the whole house."

The two chatted softly, the kitchen door closed to keep their voices from carrying. Basim would be furious if he knew they were up.

"Oh, how could I forget to tell you! When me and my friends were playing, we saw the new DC’s car. She’s here. And from what we’ve heard, she’s very upright and strict too. Which I think is a good thing, considering the previous one was lousy as hell."

"We’ve never had a female DC before, have we?" Habib wondered aloud, trying to recall if he had ever seen any officer around or remembered the last DC’s name.

"Um, no. And do you know her bungalow walls are so high, you can’t see past them! Imagine how cool it must be from the inside. Plus, all the cameras and stuff, which I heard they’re going to put around the village too."

"Mhm, nice." Habib nodded, his smile fading slightly as he sipped his tea. The conversation about the new DC and the changes in the village did little to distract him from the quiet sadness that lingered in his heart.

Part II

[reveluving]

come fly with me

summary: the beauty of your first dance with Trystan!

pairing: m!trystan thorne x f!mc (written as ‘you’, no name usage)

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff & spoilers from book 2!

a/n: seems like we’re not done with the wedding wonders, and I’m all up for it! Consider this a continuation of this piece, so thank you dear @starsarewithinme for your curiosity! 💗 don’t forget to leave some sugar! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

» fancy reading another choices fic? check out my m.list!

Learning the dance would be easy, not necessarily because you know how to dance very well but because Trystan is the only teacher you will ever need for it, so you don’t feel as hesitant or shy as you’d probably be with an actual instructor. Just imagine him offering you his hand for a quick dance practice during sleepless nights or when just can’t progress in your work as the two of you are cooped up in the office all day. Despite the hustle and bustle outside of the company or your apartment, it pales in comparison to the very room you’re in.

All but one light as your guide in the dim as the song plays on the speaker of your phone.

But that begs the question; what kind of song would it be?

Whether or not it is your first relationship, there is no wilder partner than Trystan Nikolay Zabolutnikov Thorne. Your lives have been a whiplash. One moment, it's fast-paced, and then, it eases. Oftentimes melodramatic along the way. Here, your song resonates with you. The kind where you can just see glimpses of your past and how the worst have nearly bested you, if not for the other. The kind that would have you tear up at the very end, remembering those who are unable to see how far you’ve come not just in terms of the relationship, but what made you you in the first place. But you know you have nothing to fear when you feel the comforting lips of your now-husband. It’s the kind of moment that could make Astrid or Patryk gag but also bring a tear in Uncle T’s or Ruby’s eye. 

— Golden Hour by Jvke • Amusement Park by Baekhyun • Only by Lee Hi

How about something more lively? Upbeat, sentimental to your relationship, where despite the few bumps on the road, something better awaits for the two of you, just enough to make you forget your worries, even for a little while. The world can be a nasty one and it may not always be good to you, but all things come to those who wait. You may not show your love as easily as he does, and that’s alright. He already knows just how much you care, and how blessed he is to honour the sweeter side of yours that many others don’t have the privilege of. Life may not always be about rainbows and sunshine, but who is to say you and Trystan can’t work the rainy days to your advantage? 

— Je T'aime by Joy • Can't Take My Eyes Off You by Frankie Valli & The 4 Seasons

Relaxing at a café is one thing, but when there is good jazz or R&B music? Perfection. So, who wouldn’t love a jazzy number to go with the tiramisu that they’ve gotten off at the buffet? Fitting with the outdoor-at-dusk aesthetic, you may want a song that doesn’t overdo the flair but the lyrics speak for themselves. The intimate eye-gazing, the sharing of smiles, the quick peck on the forehead. Though the least of your concern, it may be the song most generally appreciated by the guest, because what’s more romantic than swaying with your partner to a soulful blues?

— (There Is) No Greater Love by Amy Winehouse • Blinking Game by Jonghyun • In Love by Vietra • Try Again by d.ear x JAEHYUN

Bonus! About you! 

You may have gotten your love for R&B/Jazz/Soul from Jimmy, with his collection of vinyl records organized in its very own storage shelf. Trystan enjoys listening to you hum a random tune of one of the songs as you dust the collection every few weeks, ensuring your father’s prized possession doesn’t collect too much dust. 

The once depressing memory of your father dispelling your worries about his career by playing his vinyl player and dancing with you slowly has now turned into a happier one as you get to share the moment with Trystan!

Bonus! About Kimi!

Slowly yet surely when her heart mends over Jimmy’s passing, she collects her own set of music, arranging them with her father's shelf. Though not always as vinyl records nor necessarily in English (thus, the recommendation of K-R&B songs you see above), it also pays homage to her Japanese mother, who was an avid fan of both R&B beyond The United States and her utmost favourite, Citypop!

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

» I may be geeking a little. Ehehehe! I admit, I fear some songs may not fit for a first dance since it’s not the most common wedding culture here, but the nature of the music is too good to pass up, so take it as a form of inspiration, or the kind of songs that you would dance to after, and I’d highly recommend giving them a listen!

» Or if you have a couple of songs that you would waltz with Mr Thorne to, I’d love to hear it below! I can’t thank you enough for reading and sharing. Enjoy your weekdays!

» tagging @choicesficwriterscreations for fic of the week ;; & the gorgeous dividers by @firefly-graphics ♡

[amberlynnmurdock]

New Love, New Haven

Pairing: Ben Tallmadge x Original Female Character

Summary: The year is 1772. Sadie Hale is the younger sister of Nathan Hale. While her brother studies at Yale University, Sadie aspires to be just like her brother—except, with sexism and women not being allowed a higher education, she is stuck helping their father run The Ordinary Tavern. Defiant, Sadie makes time to read books in the off hours, help Nathan study, and live vicariously through him. One night, Nathan brings a fellow classmate named Benjamin Tallmadge to the tavern, and the two cannot deny a connection the night they meet. This is a story about love in the midst of a brewing Revolution and heartbreak, as Sadie has to come to grips with the reality that her brother and the man she loves enlist to fight with the rebels in the American Revolution.

Author’s note: too long, but read it here on Archive of Our Own, preferably after you’ve read this chapter! 

CHAPTER ONE: Tending the Bar 

September 1772

A pink and orange sunset fell over the town of New Haven, Connecticut. People were on the streets rushing to finish the last of their errands: women huddled with baskets tucked protectively against their chests, children outside were being called into their homes for supper, and students attending Yale University were leaving their afternoon classes to take a break at local taverns in town.

Sadie Hale watched from the window of The Ordinary tavern as she mindlessly steamed glasses to prepare for the evening crowd. She watched as the people of New Haven walked by to wherever their destination was. In the distance, she could see Yale University in all its Gothic and glorious architecture.

Sadie only started working at the Tavern when she turned 17 this past summer. It was an excuse to see the University kids hustling about, and maybe, just maybe, she’d be lucky enough to join them one day.

It would be another 45 minutes until the sun went down, and Sadie could see darkened classrooms turn to light one by one. Some students were walking from the building with satchels at their sides, and some were hurrying toward the building, late for class. She smiled to herself, imagining that one day it would be her that was rushing to class.

In the meantime, Sadie continued to polish the glasses and waited for her brother, Nathan, to stop by the tavern and show her what he learned today. Seeing his golden blonde hair in the distance, Sadie dropped her rag and rushed to the door.

“Nathan! Nathan!” She called from the door. With bright blue eyes lighting up at the sight of his sister, Nathan conjured a rush in his step to the door of the tavern. Sadie held it open as Nathan came bounding through the entrance.

“Sadie, don’t yell at your brother, ’tis not lady-like,” their father, Deacon Richard, scolded. Sadie, rolling her eyes, closed the door behind her.

“Who says she’s a lady? Not with those beaten brown shoes,” Nathan teased, giving his younger sister a playful elbow nudge. Sadie’s jaw dropped, as she quickly returned the insult to her older brother.

“And what man takes his perfect time in the morning making sure his hair is neatly groomed? It’s a wonder how you make it to class at all—let alone pass,” Sadie put her hands on her hips with a smile. Nathan’s smile was brighter as he took a seat at the head of the bar, laying out his books.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection of a tin cup. “My hair is neatly groomed, huh?” Sadie with a laugh punched her brother in the shoulder as she took a seat next to him at the bar. Richard looked at both of his children disapprovingly as he continued to wipe the bar down, preparing for the bar guests soon to arrive.

“Five minutes,” Richard stated, giving Sadie a hard look.

Sadie quickly dismissed her father, already rummaging through Nathan’s notebooks.

“‘Ay, tot, settle down. I’ll letcha take a look but hold on a moment,” Nathan swashed Sadie’s hands away as she impatiently watched her brother organize his notes.

“Okay,” Nathan cleared his throat, “before you go scrambling, let me first give you a background on what we learned today. Philosophy.”

Sadie perked up in her seat, waiting for Nathan to continue.

“Known as the ‘father of liberalism’ John Locke, was an English philosopher who had a remarkable influence on the Enlightenment. Keen on natural law, Locke believed that everyone had a natural right to defend their life, health, liberty and possessions,” Nathan read aloud from his notes. Nathan quirked an eyebrow over his notebook to see if Sadie was still paying attention, which he knew she was—he just liked to profess to her in jest.

“In A Letter Concerning Toleration Locke wrote, and I quote, ‘there is only one thing which gathers people into seditious commotion, and that is oppression,” Nathan read aloud.

“Time’s up, Sadie!” Richard shouted from across the bar. Sighing in frustration, Sadie huffed as she turned to get out of the bar stool. Nathan placed a hand on her elbow.

“I’ll leave my notes under the latch by the service area—just don’t get any ale on them,” Nathan whispered to his younger sister. Sadie, beaming at her brother, gave his arm a squeeze as a thank you.

“You know, father, one of these days Sadie’s going to be teaching all of us about philosophy, and we’ll be the ones pouring drinks for her,” Nathan quirked an eyebrow, challenging the senior Hale. Richard scoffed as he handed Sadie two pitchers of beer—a group of men had just come in after a hard day’s labor. Sadie made her way quietly to them, as she always did.

“And for now she’ll be listenin’ to me,” Richard murmured. Nathan shook his head.

“She’s only seventeen—she’s too young to be pourin’ drinks for all these men,” Nathan argued in defense of Sadie, glaring at the group of men who just sat down. It was ridiculous this was her job—Nathan knew his sister well, and he knew she was meant for more than following orders.

“It was either this or tending the cows on the farm with mum,” Richard stated, “your audacious sister chose the former because she can’t stand the smell of cow manure. And speaking of, you should stop feedin’ her that bull-scutter,” Richard snarled, gesturing with his chin to Nathan’s books. Nathan couldn’t help but flash his father a cheeky grin.

“You and mum encouraged me to study this bull-scutter,” Nathan mocked, “‘tis not my fault I’m a natural at learnin’.”

“When’s your next class anyway?” Richard asked, “you’re a distraction to the young girl whenever you visit. She doesn’t want to tend to the lushes that come; she’d rather read about what you’re learnin’.”

“And a good reason for that,” Nathan replied matter of factly. “No one would want to wed a dimly-lit girl. You should be lucky your only daughter wants to educate herself.”

“It’s looked down upon—she’s supposed to be—oh, what is it to you,” Richard dismissed his thoughts. Nathan smirked, knowing he knew his father knew he was right. Richard came from a different time, where women were strictly only meant for a few things. Of course, times now weren’t much different, but Nathan didn’t let how things currently were limit him from thinking of how things could be.

Sadie came by the service bar, watching her brother get into an argument with their father, per usual. The arguments were never serious, at least not that she’d heard, but the way her father and her other brother, Enoch, looked whenever they spoke was far different from how Nathan and her father looked. It always looked intense, and Nathan would end the conversation with a smug look on his face—that’s how she knew he had won whatever argument they were having.

She slipped his papers into her front dress pocket, tucking them deep enough so they wouldn’t be harmed by any spillage. Nathan turned his attention to Sadie, a smile on his face—not a teasing one like he usually had, but a genuine one. He leaned closer and kept his head low as she pretended to focus on wiping a plate down.

“My favorite section is where Locke talks about the divine right of Kings,” Nathan whispered, “but I didn’t tell ya that.”

Sadie smiled, giving her brother another squeeze on his arm.

“Where are you off tonight? Is tonight your late class?” Sadie asked him, genuinely curious, but more so about what other subject he would bring to her to read.

“Na, that’s tomorrow—and, that’s not really a class, moreso an extracurriculars club me and the gents do for fun—it’s for kicks, not serious at all,” Nathan lowered his head again, and Sadie followed his movements, “I think I may bring a few of them back to the Tavern if you’re willing to stay a bit late and meet ‘em all,” Nathan smirked. Sadie’s eyes lit up with curiosity and thrill.

Nathan wanted to give Sadie as much a college experience as he could since she wasn’t allowed to go all because of her sex. He has met plenty of close friends here at Yale, and it wasn’t fair that Sadie was bound by her childhood friends at home. Sure, they were nice and would always be there but—Sadie needed to meet more people that were like-minded, that wanted to discuss philosophy and other sciences. Although Nathan’s friends were knuckleheads, he had a good judge of character, and knew she would get along with them straight away.

“Okay,” Sadie said excitedly, “perhaps Pa will turn in early in the night letting me close up.” Sadie gestured to the hidden ramekin of chamomile she kept under the bar. It may have been a little sadistic, but slipping a bit of chamomile in her father’s beverage to get him to sleep… wasn’t the worst thing a rebellious teenager could do. Nathan laughed at her gesture.

“Atta girl,” he winked.

“So, what is this extracurricular club you speak of?” Sadie questioned her older brother. Nathan laughed sheepishly, frowning at where to begin.

“Well, ya see, uh…” he trailed off, “it’s sort of a drama club, of sorts?”

“I see,” Sadie nodded in understanding, squinting her eyes, “instead of studying, you and your dunce friends play dress up and get drunk.”

“I didn’t say that! I mean… well… you’ll keep the Tavern open for us?” Nathan inquires again, raising his brows. “And… the ale ready? Of course, you can sneak a few sips.”

“I will,” Sadie said assuredly, “though, I’ll have to concoct a strong dosage for Pa.”

Nathan smiled at his sister. He turned his hand into a fist, which Sadie immediately bumped with her own, in understanding.

Within the next hour, Sadie bid farewell to her older brother as he stomped out of the tavern, on his way back to his boarding house. Meanwhile, she glanced upwards at the ceiling, knowing her own room lay right above her head.

As the tavern began to quiet down the later it became, Sadie, polishing silverware now, found herself by the same window she always peered out of, mesmerized by the glow of Yale University, right down the road.

[bobbiworks]

Beyond the Bell's Chimes | Part 58

The sound of the pouring rain outside and the inaudible chatter of customers in the background felt like home as she stared at the slow spinning of the brown bubble on her coffee. Some people were dismayed about the gloomy weather, but a few in that cafe were blissful, taking a break from their hustles outside.

Jiwoo, like the others around her, was taking her time to breathe from work by staring at the busy street under the pouring rain. With a cup of joe on the golden brown mahogany table in front of her, she indulged herself in a mini photoshoot of the subject: the lone coffee cup.

Satisfied with the shots, Jiwoo had the feeling to snap a photo of herself sitting on the gray cushioned couch. Tilting her phone to a certain angle to hide her unflattering aspects, she got to see a beautiful her. She was proud as she checked her photos until she heard the music playing all over the place.

She couldn't help but feel giddy about the song. It had been years since she heard that song. She read in a post that there are things in this world that unlock a person's core memories—whether it's a smell, taste, sound, look, feel, or hear. With a single thing, she began to remember all the feelings she had when she was younger.

She began to wonder all the what-ifs and all the things she could have done in the past with the wisdom and knowledge she has now. Will she be able to experience those things still? Or will everything change and be forgotten?

Jiwoo woke up from a light tap on her shoulder. It was the server at the cafe. She didn't notice that she fell asleep after thinking so much. What surprised her was that she had her coffee not too long ago. She looked outside, and the rain had already ceased. She thanked the server and even gave her a tip before she stood from her seat.

"Leaving so soon?" Her uncle Wooseok was sitting at another table, looking as handsome as he did during his prime. She smiled and greeted him with a hug. "You could have given me a call if you're out here spending time alone," he said.

"I'll make sure to do that next time," Jiwoo smiled. "This cafe somehow reminds me of the old one I used to work at," she commented.

"Well, there are things we have to keep and things we have to let go. It was a great place, to be honest," Wooseok sighed, remembering the good old days. He quietly looked at Jiwoo with fondness the same way he would look at her when she was little. Wooseok, a bachelor still, always saw Jiwoo as his own no matter what. "Have you visited your mom?"

"I actually plan to spend the weekend at home, for Woojae's birthday," she smiled. "You must be there. You really have to be there," she said, holding her uncle's hand.

"Alright. I will be there," he chuckled. Jiwoo gave him a big tight hug before she left the cafe. Her uncle Wooseok had given up the cafe for commercial property reasons, but he was able to pull himself back by moving it to another location and successfully constructing a couple more branches in the city.

Jiwoo's parents were very healthy and happy now that her father had retired from work. They were able to purchase a piece of land in his hometown, where he grew vegetables for the local market. Woojae had grown into a wonderful high school student at Segye High School. He was still the sweet, thoughtful kid that Jiwoo always loved.

~

It was a spring day in the year 2023. Jiwoo received an invitation from the school's president about the high school homecoming of all graduates from Segye High School. A mix of excitement, anxiousness, and curiosity dwelled in her mind as she read the details and immediately confirmed her attendance. She began to wonder how her friends were now. It had been so long since they last met. They were together for a year after graduation, but university life had taken a toll on each of them until they no longer met. It was like an untold goodbye for Jiwoo, who remained still for her friends to come back anytime, until she too had to leave.

"Noona," her train of thoughts were cut when Woojae knocked on her door. "Dinner's ready."

"I'll be there," she replied and closed her computer. She then followed Woojae downstairs. Woojae had prepared bibimbap, her favorite for dinner. "Wow, looks good."

"Well, I had to make it because you seemed down these days. Is everything okay?" He asked. Jiwoo still couldn't accept the fact that Woojae had become a teenager who was so thoughtful and not rebellious. He had been so good at taking care of her despite being young.

"Hmm, I went to Uncle's cafe," she said while stuffing her mouth with food. "And it somehow reminded me about my friends back then."

Woojae sighed, "Don't tell me you miss them?"

"Of course, I do," Jiwoo replied. "You'll get there when you grow old."

"You're not that old, noona," he replied. "It's just that every time you think about them, you get sad, especially when you remember Euns—" He stopped halfway, realizing that he should not mention the man who became his sister's world but disappeared. "Dad wanted us to sell this house and move to a better apartment," he changed the topic.

"What's wrong with this house?" she asked. "It's well-maintained and could use a little renovation."

"Dad wants us to find a better place, noona," he tried to explain to his sister without telling her that she should move on.

"Hmm, I'll stay here, Woojae. If dad needs money, I can give it to him. I am doing well at my job," she assured her younger brother. "I've made a couple of investments too, so we don't really need to sell this house."

"Noona, I want you to be happy. I can take care of myself here," Woojae began to cry. He watched his sister sacrifice her adolescent life working to the bones when their dad got into an accident. Her savings in high school, which were supposed to be for her college fees, were all spent on the medical fees for her dad until he recovered. She did a lot of odd jobs and barely slept. She barely had time for herself, which made her lose the person she cherished. "Noona, we are okay now. You really should be living for yourself, not for us."

Jiwoo works as an art and humanities assistant professor at Sejong University. She is still pursuing her doctorate degree, which keeps her busy. Her job is fulfilling, and the students are all pleasant. Despite working there for three years, she hasn't encountered any familiar faces. During lunch with her coworkers, her phone rang, reminding her about the reunion later in the evening. She almost forgot about it, shocking her. She hadn't prepared anything, not even a dress. The reunion would take place in Segye High School's gymnasium, with an elite catering service managing the food and decorations. She wondered who planned such an extravagant event. With just two hours to prepare, she quickly finished her meal and sought permission from her boss to leave work early.

Being one of the favorite professors at Sejong University, Jiwoo's boss granted her permission to leave early.

She rushed to an upscale fashion store in the city, embarking on a treasure hunt for the perfect outfit. As an art major, Jiwoo had learned the basics of mixing and matching clothes and had interned as an assistant fashion coordinator for a famous magazine. Despite her introverted nature, Jiwoo had come a long way, learning how to prepare for an event like a reunion. She aimed to make a lasting impression.

After shopping, she headed to the salon to have her long hair styled. She had gorgeous black hair that reached her waist, but due to her busy schedule, she decided to cut it a few inches down her shoulders for the event. She also opted for a full glam makeup look that would complement her outfit, drawing inspiration from photos on her phone.

To give herself space and privacy as she prepared, Jiwoo booked a hotel room for the night. Standing in front of the mirror, fixing her hair, she gave herself affirmations. She felt anxious, not knowing who would be at the reunion. The thought of seeing Eunseok embarrassed her.

The memory of the night when everything seemed too hard haunted her. Her dad hospitalized, finances dropping, and her mind falling apart. Jiwoo didn't know if her life's difficulties would be temporary, and Eunseok, who loved her deeply, wanted to help. But she refused, feeling small and ashamed. She decided to break up with him and push him away. Since then, she never saw him again.

A tear fell as she remembered the pain she caused him. Despite the passage of time, Jiwoo still loved him. She hadn't dated anyone else. If she could turn back time, she would have held onto him and faced life's challenges together. If only she could.

The Segye High School was buzzing with activity, filled with cars in the parking spaces, and the gymnasium alive with music and people dancing. It felt like a school festival reminiscent of the old days, with laughter, sharing life's journeys, and a happy atmosphere.

Anton and Suyoung arrived at the venue, drawing attention as they linked arms. The crowd's focus shifted to them as they witnessed world-class cellist Anton Lee walking with Suyoung. Sohee, who was talking with Hanbin and Minseul, recently married, noticed them.

"I thought you two aren't together," Hanbin remarked upon seeing Sohee give Suyoung a kiss.

"We kinda remained lowkey and kept everything to ourselves. Our wedding wasn't grand, just a few friends and family," Suyoung explained.

"So, Jiwoo knew?" Minseul inquired. "I haven't seen her in ages."

"We haven't heard from her in a long time," Anton replied, his tone tinged with sadness. Anton deeply loved Jiwoo, and her sudden disappearance without a trace affected him profoundly. He didn't know what happened and couldn't find her.

"Oh my god, is she—" Minseul began to speculate the worst, but Suyoung immediately stopped her. "What about Eunseok?"

"Hmm, they broke up? I am not sure. Haven't heard of him in years," Suyoung shared.

"Well, I can sense the sadness here. We all miss each other, but it's not the end of time," Sohee tried to comfort them. "Anton, can you keep Suyoung company here? You can sit at that table," he gestured. "I have to meet Seunghan and Wonbin."

"Oh my gosh! They're coming?" Suyoung gasped in excitement.

"I'm not sure if Ji's phone number is still the same. I haven't really seen her for such a long time. Ever since her dad got into an accident, she had been so busy trying to make ends meet. I couldn't even have time to check on her because it was my finals…" Seunghan explained as he walked with Wonbin to the gymnasium. Wonbin had just arrived from New York, dressed all in black with his hair reaching his shoulders and thin-rimmed specs completing his look for the evening. Seunghan, on the other hand, worked as a general manager in a huge food company. "I am actually worried about not seeing her."

Wonbin stopped, "Don't you think she will hate us?" He asked, turning to Seunghan, who immediately shook his head sideways. "That's Jiwoo. If we are worried about it, how much do you think she will do? I mean, I wouldn't miss this opportunity if I were in her shoes. And I.. I wouldn't miss this opportunity too. So, she'll be fine. I am sure she will be here.." Wonbin assured.

"Wonbin! Seunghan!"

The two men turned their heads to see Sohee waving at them. Their faces lit up, and they instantly forgot that they were not teenagers anymore, running to each other and hugging.

"What the hell! How come you didn't invite us to your wedding?" Seunghan asked as he ruffled Sohee's hair.

"Whoa, easy with the hair! My wife took hours to fix that." Sohee chuckled, pulling away from his friends' hands. "Anton and Suyoung are inside. Did you know Minseul and Hanbin got married too??"

"Whoa! Really?" Wonbin asked, eyes widened in shock. He remembered the time Minseul pretended to flirt with him when they were younger. "Wow, sure time flies fast." He laughed.

"I am so glad you came here," Sohee sighed and ushered his friends to go inside.

~

Sungchan and Miyoung broke up after high school. Sungchan decided to take a break for a year while Miyoung pursued her studies, but they remained great friends. However, Miyoung found new love and was already engaged, while Sungchan remained single. He was waiting for Shotaro at the school front gate. He became closest to Shotaro, feeling like they were on the same level, and Shotaro had been his best friend during the tough times. His smile appeared when he saw Shotaro riding his motorcycle. He stopped and had Sungchan hop on before driving inside the school.

"I heard everyone's there. Eunseok's not really coming?" Shotaro asked and only received a shrug from the latter. "Well, I am in charge of the RSVP, and Jiwoo confirmed her attendance. You better tell him that she's coming. I am sure your friend has been waiting for her…"

~

Eunseok was inside his car stranded in the traffic along the main road. He had an appointment at 7 at the Hyatt Hotel, one of the blind dates his mom set up for him. Tired of meeting different girls every month, he rubbed his temples to ease his headache from the stagnant flow of the road when his phone rang.

It was Sungchan calling about the reunion.

"Hey, I have an appointment. I don't think I can—" He stopped when he heard Sungchan's news.

"Everyone is here," Sungchan said from the other line. "I mean, everyone will be here. Shotaro confirmed the RSVP."

Eunseok's heart began to race when his thoughts started to think about Jiwoo, seeing her again. "Wait… Is she there?"

"Well, you have to come here and see," Sungchan replied and immediately ended the call. Eunseok was left dumbfounded, not knowing what to do. Are they pulling a prank on him? If they do, this isn't a good prank at all. He began to think of a lot of possibilities that Jiwoo might be there. He didn't want to miss this opportunity; he didn't know when he would see her again.

"Sir, we are at the hotel now," his driver announced after stopping the car in front of the entrance gate. Eunseok paused for a moment and thought. He had to reject the blind date he had tonight for the unsure opportunity of meeting Jiwoo again at Segye High School. He doesn't know if she is going to talk to him, but all he knows is that he will give up everything he owns just to be with her again. He stepped out of the car and fixed his suit before walking into the hotel. He went straight to the lobby where he saw his date. He was about to take steps towards her, but his eyes caught a familiar face.

It was Jiwoo in the flesh, holding onto the arms of a man while walking out of the elevator. His entire world stopped when he saw her again after all these years looking so happy and beautiful. He couldn't control his emotions and even himself. He walked past his date and went to grab Jiwoo's hand that was holding onto the other man's arm.

"Shim Jiwoo," he spoke, as if her name was the only reason he breathed.

Jiwoo, surprised to see Eunseok in the hotel she was staying at, couldn't form a word to say to him. The way he looked at the man she was with, she could see the pain in his eyes.

"Eunseok-hyung?" the man spoke, making Eunseok get back to his senses and looked at the man who spoke his name. "Eunseok-hyung…"

"Hyung?" Eunseok stammered, turning to Jiwoo for answers. She looked hesitant, but she was able to pull her hand away from his hold.

"It has been a long time since we last saw each other," she smiled, "This is Woojae now."

"Woojae?" Eunseok stammered once more and realized that the little brother Jiwoo loved had become a young man he barely recognized. "Woojae!" He smiled as he pulled the boy for an embrace. "I'm sorry I did not recognize you."

"I heard a lot about it," Woojae chuckled, returning the embrace to his older friend. "What are you doing here, hyung?" Woojae seemed to have taken the conversation with Eunseok after seeing his sister's reaction to seeing him all too sudden.

"I was—" Eunseok was about to speak when a woman dressed in white, with orange wavy hair, tapped his shoulder. She looked sophisticated and was totally in the same league as Eunseok.

"I thought you saw me," she said, linking her arm with Eunseok. "I can't believe you are ignoring your date!" she huffed.

Jiwoo smiled; she felt the woman was trying to make a point with those words that she quietly tugged onto her brother's arm. "It seems we caught you in the middle of something, hyung. We'll be going to the reunion," Woojae said and slowly excused themselves.

Eunseok watched Jiwoo walked away without saying a word to him. He knew he would never have a chance to speak to her again if he let this slip.

"Shall we have dinner, Eunseok?" the woman asked as she was still holding onto his arm, but Eunseok gently pulled his arm from her hold.

"I'm sorry Hana, I came here to tell you that I am sorry. I really do," Eunseok said and was ready to follow Jiwoo, but Hana grabbed his hand once more.

"This is the 4th time our parents planned this date, Song Eunseok." She frowned. "Is she the one you've been waiting for?" she asked.

"I'd rather die than miss this chance to talk to her," he replied, on the verge of tears when he looked at her. Hana's hold slowly loosened and finally let go of him. He thanked her and ran after Jiwoo, but it was too late. She had already left.

[shadows-starlight]

Shadows and Starlight

Book 40: Aurora Screams For Ice Cream

-

In these hot summer days in Ebonvale, the villagers found a way to cool down in a usual and unexpected turn of events.

See, ice cream was a brand new treat at the time and it was spreading like wildfire all over the world, including in Ebonvale.

When Malakar heard about the sweet treat making the rounds of the village and helping people young and old cool off, he decided to try some himself. However, he was not alone in his journey to the town for Aurora was coming with him as she was going to get her first taste of ice cream.

With Aurora tucked safely in her pram and himself draped in a light robe to not draw any attention from the villagers, headed into the square.

The Frosted Fantasia was the village's new ice cream shop and even though it had been open for almost a month, it had already drawn a lot of attention to the residents of the village.

Aurora poked her head out of the sides of the pram and took in all of the sights and sounds of the hustle and bustle of the village.

“There it is, my little star,” Malakar said softly, pointing to the quaint ice cream shop with its colorful sign swaying gently in the breeze. “The place where you’ll have your very first taste of something sweet and cold.”

Aurora babbled in response, her tiny hands reaching out toward the shop as if understanding what her father said.

They entered the shop, greeted by the cool air and the sweet aroma of freshly made ice cream. The walls were adorned with illustrations of ice cream cones, sundaes, and other frozen treats, creating a whimsical atmosphere that caught the attention of children alike.

The shop served all of the classic ice cream flavors like chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry while also serving other unusual flavors like huckleberry, apple crumble, Earl gray tea and lavender, chocolate chili, and more.

Behind the counter, a cheerful vendor with rosy cheeks and curly hair greeted them warmly. "'Ello! Welcome to The Frosted Fantasia, what can I get you two today?"

Malakar said, "I’d like to try your mint chip ice cream in a cone, please. And for my daughter, I believe we’ll start with a scoop of vanilla in a cup.”

"Ah, great choices sir," said the shopkeeper with a twinkle in his eyes, "One mint chip in a cone and one vanilla in the cup, comin' right up!"

The shopkeeper got to work and carefully scooped some of the mint chip ice cream in a waffle cone for Malakar, then, taking a small cup, he cleaned the ice cream scooper and scooped a nice portion of vanilla for Aurora.

“Here you are,” the shopkeeper said, handing over the treats. Malakar placed eight golden pence coins on the counter top and the shopkeeper handed Malakar the ice cream.

"Thank you," said Malakar, "have a pleasant afternoon."

"You as well m'lad!" replied the shopkeeper.

After taking a seat on a nearby bench, Malakar took Aurora out of the pram and sat her down next to him. He placed the cup of vanilla ice cream in front of her before starting on his own ice cream cone.

Aurora stared at the cup of ice cream in front of her, her dark olive green eyes wide with wonder. She reached out to the spoon that was planted inside the ice cream scoop tentatively, her chubby fingers brushing against the cool surface of the cup.

She looked up at Malakar who was enjoying his cone of mint, and noticed Aurora looking at him.

“Go on, little star,” Malakar encouraged softly. “Taste it. I'm certain you will find it delicious.”

Aurora looked at Malakar and then at her ice cream cup. Slowly, she picked up the spoon and clumsily took a little bit of the top of the scoop. She put the spoon to her lips, tasting the fresh vanilla and cold sweetness for the first time.

A moment of silence came in the air as Aurora processed the new flavor. Then, a wide, delighted smile spread across her face and she let out a joyful giggle.

Malakar chuckled, his heart swelling with happiness at the sight of his daughter’s joy. “I take it you approve?” he asked, playfully raising an eyebrow.

Aurora responded by reaching for more, her tiny hands eager to scoop up as much of the ice cream as she could manage. She smeared a bit of it across her face in the process, but the look of pure delight on her face was all that mattered to Malakar.

Malakar chuckled and said, "I'll take that as a yes."

And so, on that summer's day, father and daughter cooled off with the sweet treat that will soon be known and served all across the world for years to come.

[seraphimguks]

roses, poetry and jeon.

☾ pairing: bookstore employee!jungkook x reader

★ summary: Between the pieces of sappy poetry and dried rose petals hidden in every book you buy from the local bookstore; you fall in love with the anonymously enigmatic writer.

➳  genre: bookstore au, enemies to lovers-ish?, fluff, slight angst

☂ words: 12k

♡ a/n: hellooo! So, after countless days and nights working on this, I’m VERY proud as to how it came out to be. I don’t have any experience as a bookstore employee so please forgive me if I made some mistakes! Also, all the poetry compositions have been written by yours truly hehe. I really hope you guys enjoy this story as much I enjoyed writing it! Let me know how you felt (reblogs and comments go a long way!) c:

                                                               ~*~

The sunlight filtering through your window was a familiar feeling. As it warmed your covers, you lazily turned to the other side of your bed hoping to find a cooler spot to resume your slumber. When not even cocooning yourself helped, you angrily pulled your blanket over your frame and let the heat take the win for this one.

You opened your eyes and took a minute to take in your surroundings. You felt like your party-hungry college student-self waking up one morning on someone else’s bathroom floor that wasn’t yours. In that reverie, you winced as you could almost taste the vodka at the back of your throat and the puke roiling up in your stomach.

A half open book lay face down on your nightstand and dried up drool pooled near the top of your pillow, possibly because you dozed off in between. You checked your phone, and was relieved that it was the weekend. There were no messages from work, you wanted to jump up in joy like you were a child on sugar rush.

Your job as a market assistant was good, and although you enjoyed the work, sometimes it felt dry and you lost all enthusiasm to continue. Your boss was an asshole, you really wanted to smack him. Your colleagues were no less either, but in all speaking you didn’t want to change your job yet because it paid well to give you a good apartment room and four-square meals a day.

Even thinking about work made you upset. You hugged your knees to your chest, resting your head on them because you were just too tired. Deep down in your conscious, you knew you couldn’t pursue your true passion for financial reasons and because it was just a dying profession.

Thoughts aside, you decided to treat yourself to the weekend by going to the bookstore just around your block. You loved bookstores, it was your favourite retreat growing up when your father would come and pick out the books you wanted to borrow. You were a very avid reader as a child, however as the homework started piling up as you went up a grade, there was no time to wiggle some reading time in between the cracks of your heavy schedule. Until now.

The bookstore opened five years ago, a cozy place that usually met a lukewarm crowd on weekends. You were a regular there. The owner, Kim Namjoon, was few years elder to you but was polite, handsome and very well read despite having a demanding position at his accounting job. Namjoon had opened the bookstore as a part-time thing to stay rooted to his love for literature, and since his profession earned well, he was able to recruit two or three employees to help him out when he was at work.

Ji Changmin was the cutest employee there, and honestly you couldn’t deny that part of the reason why you headed up to the cozy establishment was to see him. He had an ebullient disposition with lovely dimples that you couldn’t help but think was cute. He always greeted new customers with a wide smile and you stifled a laugh when you remembered his extremely loud shriek when one of the customers accidentally dropped a book. The poor boy almost fell from the ladder when he was trying to sort out the books on the highest shelf.

He was a dance major at the nearby University and his shifts were on the weekends, the two days when he was free. He often came to the store disheveled from practicing on his own, but he still managed to clean up and look flawless in a simple apron uniform.

You also knew that the first weekend of the new month meant fresh arrivals – so not only were you going to see your favourite employee (you would never tell Changmin, of course) and get some eye-candy, but also browse through the new novels waiting to be read by fellow bookworms like yourself. Maybe even eye Changmin over the top of the pages you read, and knowing him long enough he would probably be practicing few steps of his dance routine, and oh didn’t he look sexy.

And with that said, you were ready in flat 15 minutes.

 ~*~

 The conundrum of living in cities was known to you – the whizz of scooters going by in the morning, the delightful screams of school children returning from class in the afternoon and the shutters of karaoke bars and clubs opening up for the evening.

That’s why you were so relieved that the apartment you were housing in was located in a sleepy neighbourhood, where the hustle-bustle was less pronounced.  It was also near a subway that took you effortlessly to work. The street which you lived in mostly had all the necessities you could ask for, from grocery markets, a hospital, small cafes, retail stores, and of course, a medium-sized bookstore.

Fact and Fiction Bookstore was a store squeezed in between a medical shop and an apartment, just a couple of blocks from your place. It always had a wooden signboard that had “Open” and “Closed” in hand drawn letters and the interiors were festooned with decorative pendant lamps that lit the room in a golden halo. Walnut coloured, skyscraper height bookshelves lined the walls in even spaces, from classics to children’s books to study materials. There were few wooden stools scattered hither and tither and a small cash register at the extreme center, that led to the store room in the back. Overall, the shop had a modern yet minimalistic look that was to your liking.

As you walked inside of Fact and Fiction, you heard the familiar bell chime as you pushed open the doors. You made it just in time, and of course there were no customers there. You smiled a bit, knowing that Changmin might just be around and you could have some quality time with him for a bit. But instead of seeing Changmin usually wiping the bookshelves carefully, you were surprised to see Namjoon in his place.

“Oh Y/N! So nice to see you this morning,” Namjoon smiled, walking up to you. Namjoon never came on weekends, and if he did, it was when one of the employees were unable to work anymore. But that was very rare. Could that mean-

“Hey Namjoon,” You said, trying to mask the slight disappointment. “I thought you didn’t come on weekends?”

“I don’t, but now I guess I have to,” He laughed, returning to clean the bookshelves at the far right of the room.

“Why, what happened to Changmin?” You faked playing it cool by taking a book off the Bestseller’s shelf.

“He had to leave, he got scouted by an entertainment agency couple days ago. He’s going to be a trainee,” Namjoon shouted from the opposite side of the room.

As much as your heart felt like it fell from the sky, that you were no longer going to be ogling over the button eyed boy now, you felt a surge of happiness at Changmin finally achieving his lifelong dream to be an idol. It would take some years, but seeing him on the big screen – possibly even cuter – made your heart flutter. Of course, Namjoon was handsome too, so you didn’t mind stealing glances at him now that you no other choice.

“So, what are you going to do, now that he’s gone?” You asked. Surely the other two employees would be a replacement, you thought.

“I already hired a new employee; he’s going to be in charge in weekends now,” Namjoon wiped his hands on the cloth and disappeared into the storeroom.”

You silently nodded to yourself. It was silence now, just you and the books. Evidently you moved to the New Arrivals section, picking an interesting book cover and started reading the first chapter.

As soon as you ensconced in the setting, you heard the door open with the low chatter of what you assumed were female college students.

You heard footsteps. Someone from the other end of the store, presumably the new employee, greeted them in the conventional fashion bookstore employees usually do.

"What may I help you ladies with?"

The hair on the back of your neck stood. Your ears perked up out of its own volition. The vibrations in your heart quickened. Your knees suddenly felt weak, goosebumps erupting on every inch of your skin. You felt the air shifting, as if the coffee toned floorboard beneath you was angled and moved on its own accord.

You've heard that voice before. No, you knew that voice. You started to panic, leaving the book you were reading on the wrong shelf and scurrying past the aisles to the center of the room, where the voice seemingly came from.

You tried to recall where and whom the voice belonged to. The vestiges of your brain that locked out certain memories of your high school unlocked. Your mind worked like a tape recorder left on fast forward. If what you thought was right, it seemed as if that voice belonged to a certain five foot something, a mean, nitpicking, lanky teenager that went by the name –

 Jeon Jungkook.

 Your eyes widened immediately. The second you laid eyes on your high school enemy, your legs went cold. You stood there gawking at the boy – now a man – and couldn't for a second fathom why, in all places, he just had to work here in the same neighborhood you lived in. For a second you were cursing Namjoon, but honestly how could that innocent and charming aficionado, unalike Jungkook, know who your high school nemesis was?

Jungkook too, seemed flustered by your appearance, hand straight away behind his neck as he looked at you sheepishly. He aged well, you thought for a moment. He was no longer the gangly teenager that he was; he was bulky, with budding muscles on his arms if you strained your eyes just a bit. He grew out of his ridiculous mushroom haircut, settling for a fringe that slightly kissed the top of his eyes. He grew taller, no doubt, and this time he grew into his features, a square face with a visible jawline that could, quite literally cut glass.

Your history with Jungkook was clear as day. You guys were classmates in high school for four years. The then 15-year-old used to tease you every chance he got. He used to make fun of what you wore, the pieces of writing you wrote and why you always received the highest scores in literature class. Even when he asked for your help in getting better scores in English, he would always speak with a hint of sarcasm and impatience. You left high school cursing him through and through, but was happy you'd never get to see or run into him ever again. Until today.

"Hi Y/N," he said.

"Jungkook," you took a step forward, crossing your arms. This was habit you did as a form of defensive mechanism. Sure, whatever teenage Jungkook said to you during your high school years were long past, but it did put a dent in your self-esteem even if a bit. Maybe your teenage self still feels that the grown up Jungkook would once again sputter mean words to you even though high school was a good while back. “Been long.”

"Yeah, you're right. It's so good to see you again, I mean, I never expected," his voice soft, kind. Of all things, this was the most surprising. You tried to forget how shockingly attractive he turned out to be.

"Ditto," You said, unsure of what else to say. You looked down at your shoes, circling one foot around the other. "So how do you know Namjoon?"

"Oh, Hyung and I go way back. He used to tutor me in high school. Maths, geography, literature, you name it. I owe it to him, for making me pass. I heard he was looking for work so I decided to step in."

Oh, so that's why. The pieces were falling in place now. It did feel nice to catch up with an old high school ‘acquaintance’ of sorts, so you kept aside the qualms of your bullying experiences aside.

"Hey, now that you're here, I never got to say that I'm sorry for all the trouble I caused you in high school. I was dumb, stupid really, I mean, dumb and stupid are the same thing, but what I mean is-"

"It's okay, Jungkook. I'm long past it, to be honest. You're forgiven." You manage a small smile, your insides warming with his thoughtfulness. What was even sweet was that he appeared a bit nervous, even though the line seemed rehearsed - it made you think as if he'd been saying this apology to himself so many times as if he would meet you again one day and say it.

Now that the mood was lighter, few more customers began pouring in. You let Jungkook continue with his work even though you wanted to know details about his life now. You resumed reading the book, considered even making this the first purchase in a long time, before Jungkook waddled up to you suggesting that he was free to talk.

"So," Jungkook began slowly, leaning over the wall opposite the bookshelf. “You live here?

“Just a couple of blocks from here. What about you?”

“Oh no, I took the subway here. It’s bit far from my boxing center at home,” he smiles, bowing at new customers who already seemed to know what to look for. You noticed when he smiled that the one thing that didn’t change about Jungkook was his doe eyes. God, they were so misleading to anyone else who didn’t know him well.

And wow, that explained the muscles. Jeon Jungkook having his own boxing center? You pegged Jungkook as being unemployed after high school because if you recall correctly, his grades were dismal. But you can’t judge a book by its cover, right?

“Wow, boxing center huh? How’s that going?” You kind of feigned interest, nodding your head more than usual whereas you just wanted to read.

“Great actually. I took business in college, and it really got me thinking. So, I pulled some strings and opened a center, that way I could practice and so can everyone else. It’s going pretty good,” he nodded satisfyingly.

You give him a sad smile. He was doing something he liked. You were too, but not exactly.

“So, do you still write poetry?” He asks, knowing he’d been talking too much about himself.

Ah, that was your sour spot. Your true passion. Writing poetry. Those years in high school you realized nothing gave you true happiness than what the joy of words did. You never wanted to make a career out of anything if it didn’t happen to include writing. However, prospects in becoming a writer were perilously low and by the time you finished your first year in college, you realized you had a take different direction if you wanted to lead a financially stable life to pay off your loans.

“Oh, that.” You shrugged, another one of your defense mechanisms. Jungkook’s eyebrow lifted questioningly. You weren’t one to call poetry as ‘that’.

“Well, I learnt poetry can get you far enough as someone with a dying YouTube career, sadly as it is. It's a beautiful profession, but I needed to make ends meet. So currently I'm working as assistant marketing manager at this company an hour away.” You tried to seem as content as possible.

“How is it?” Jungkook now had to go and take to some customers but he was still listening to you.

“It's great!”

It's fucking tedious. Sometimes I want to scream, tear some papers and run around like a maniac.  

“I love my boss and my teammates.”

My boss is a sexist, misogynistic prick and my teammates love to kiss his ass.

“There are days when I don't even think about poetry.”

I think about it every single second that I'm at work. I can’t even write cause I’m so packed with stuff to do.

Jungkook laughs as he aligns some books in the correct angles. "You were a good student in high school. With those grades, getting that job must have been piece of cake for you. Although, it must suck not to write because of your work.”

You’re telling me.

The book you were previously reading wasn’t that interesting as you thought. You moved over to the Poetry section, skimming your fingers over the covers of books. You saw a familiar title and took it out. It was the same book of poems that your school had given as part of your Literature syllabus. This book made you fall in love with words and what they mean. You looked inside and to your relief, it had all the poems of love, tragedy and loss that you came to love when you studied them meticulously when you were still a student.

Your favourite poems were I Dream of You by Christina Rossetti and Rooms by Charlotte Mew. You longed for a romance like the ones they described in stanzas, but only seldom in your life did you come across someone who shared the love of sappy poetry like you did.

“Rooms, huh? I love that poem,” Your head sharply whipped towards Jungkook’s direction, who was now curiously studying the book you had in hand.

Jungkook, liking poetry? The same lad who made fun of all the writers for being over-dramatic over love, was now saying he liked poetry?

“Surprising, I know. But like, if anyone found out the guy on the football team shared a secret love for prose and poetry, I would’ve been thrown out,” He shrugs lightly. You understood, your school solely ran on conservative values of toxic masculinity and favouritism. You managed to survive all of that, thankfully.

You and Jungkook then engaged in a discussion on the best poems and writing you guys read, surprised at his wide knowledge and the opinions he had to share. You agreed on many, disagreed with a few. But one thing you realized was that maybe meeting Jungkook wasn’t such a bad thing at all, you guys could finally be friends.

You decided to buy your book of poems. You haven’t seen this book in ages and it would be nice to add to your collection anyway.

As you handed over the book to Jungkook to check out, your hands touched only slightly. Jungkook gave you a small, shy smile, and you returned it. Right before he was going to give you the bill, his hands awkwardly hovered over the register for a moment.

“Wait,” he quickly remembered. “I have to put a stamp inside of this. It’s a way of checking what books are purchased. Work regulations. Give me a sec?”

You nodded and he disappeared into the store room for a good 10 minutes. You waited as you looked around the store for the nth time and wondering when you’d be back again. Jungkook suddenly returned, looking a little sweaty even though the air-conditioner was still on. He wiped his sweat using a towel next to the register and handed over the book to you with both hands.

You smiled at your purchase, tucking it in your bag and respectfully bowing to Jungkook before you decided to make your leave. As soon as you turned your heel towards the door, Jungkook awkwardly extended a hand to you.

“So, what do you say, friends?” His eyes were looking down, to hide his embarrassment. You thought it was cute. You extended your hand too.

“Friends.”

~*~

The sky had enveloped the sun the same way it always did during sundown. You settled comfortably in your duvet, taking out the book inside the paper bag that had the initials F.F. printed in large colourful letters. You placed the book gingerly between your legs as you scanned the hard cover.

You inhaled the pages, the smell settling somewhere in your bones. Then you began reading. It was sunset when you started and then midnight when you got to the middle. You held back a yawn as you decided to call it a day and then get to work from tomorrow. You were putting a bookmark inside the page you stopped at when something like a scrap of paper fell out of the book.

Carefully, you kept your book on the night stand and picked up the fragment and turned it over.

The paper looked as if it were torn from a notebook. What looked like a poem was written in the childish scrawl of a 10-year old, but it didn’t seem reasonable that a child would write something with such thought and maturity.

  Thousands of libraries will never exhaust

How you wander in the loveliest recesses of my thoughts,

An angel fallen from heaven,

Am I merely just a spectre in your presence?

Your fingers possess secrets in every page that you write

But how would it feel my dear,

if the hands that touched your skin, were I?

Books may command your attention

But I mean no harm,

But beyond the classroom walls, here is my confession

That it fatigues me that to remain a boy who will love you from afar.

  You stared at the paper for a while.

The poem was no doubt very beautiful, suggestive even. Unrequited love always made the best poems, you knew. You imagined a love-struck young boy penning down this very poem for his classmate in the back of his Algebra book, thinking it would never be seen by anyone else except him. What you loved most was that in each verse, the writer made his best effort to form an analogy between his lover’s passion for books and his passion for her. And to top it all, you and this girl shared your love for books.

But how did such a sensitive piece of writing wind up in your poetry book?

The paper didn’t match the quality of the paper of your recent buy, obviously. Namjoon was also not one to keep second-hand or used books in his store either. Was someone else reading the book and somehow slipped this inside? But the writing seemed very personal and it would be irresponsible for someone to misplace something like this.

You shrugged it off later, safely keeping the piece in one of your night stand drawers. Just when you were about to place your treasured book of poems in your book case, rose petals from the book fell to the floor.

Gasping, you picked the bunch in your hands, the petals bearing an angry crimson shade. Roses were your favourite flower, so you couldn’t but smell the petals that lay within your reach.

But if anything, it only multiplied the questions in your head as to how, when and why both the love poem and the petals were in the book in the first place.

~*~

You forgot about the poem and the rose petals until you found yourself going back to Fact and Fiction the next week.  Surprisingly, work load was less but you didn’t want to be one to ask why.

It was a sunny afternoon. You got the news that a sequel to one of your favourite series released few days ago. You were sure that Namjoon would keep a neat pile of the sequel somewhere in his bookstore.

Jungkook was already at the register handing a customer his receipt when he noticed you entering through the glass door. He gave a small wave as you scuttered to the New Arrival’s section. Anxiously, you browsed through the section until you finally saw the familiar title.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you muttered, the pads of your fingertips feeling the glossy hardcover. You had only turned to the front page when a dark-haired someone appeared by your side.

“Seriously, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes? Heard it didn’t get good reviews,” Jungkook smirks at you.

“Didn’t get good reviews my ass,” you mock him, going back to reading. The boy shakes his head and lets you read as he helps a customer find a certain book. More customers started to pour in, and soon Jungkook is up and running across the store every five minutes. You felt sorry for him, but then you realised with all his working out, running across a five thousand feet store was practically nothing.

It was just you in the store when it was evening. Jungkook leaned on the wall, resting his head on the counter in respite. You smiled dejectedly at him, wanting to say something to light the mood.

“So, how is Taehyung and Jimin? We couldn’t really catch up properly,” you said, sitting on one of the tools.

Jungkook sighed, almost happy that he could have one conversation today that wasn’t about foraging book titles of books ceased producing copies anymore.

“Jimin is good,” he said, wiping his sweat with the back of his hand. “He’s working at this law firm in Australia. Taehyung is pursuing his Master’s in Europe, something in cultural studies.’

“Wow,” the jealously in your voice was slightly apparent. You did work at a well-known company, but still, working abroad was a different league altogether.

“Gosh, can you believe how messed up we three were? Always fooling around, teachers said we wouldn’t amount to anything,” Jungkook reminisced, leaning his elbows on the counter now.

“I remember,” you laughed. “Especially when Taehyung pranked Mr. Choi with that whoopie cushion and Mrs. Kang when you drew her face on the board one day.”

“I think even Mrs. Kang laughed at that drawing herself, it was pretty impressive,” he smirks, lips breaking into a cocky grin. “

“And I think everyone remembers how you made Hae-ri cry in front of the whole class when you broke up with her,” you chucked, remembering the incident. Hae-ri and Jungkook sort of were going out in the middle of eleventh grade, but you always heard rumours how Jungkook was just playing around, like boys always did.

“Come on, Hae-ri and I were a joke. Can’t help it if she took us seriously,” Jungkook rolled his eyes. He clearly wasn’t interested in her as much as she was. As much as the others girl were really, even though to you he was what you always thought he was – a stupid, mean and lanky adolescent. “To think of it, I couldn’t help if I was a bit popular.”

“Oh, you were the cynosure of all eyes, Kook,” you smiled, looking down. It was true. Jungkook always carried an aura of confidence was that infectious. The kind of charm that made heads turn when he walked in the room, the type of startling charisma that was unnatural of a fifteen-year-old.

“Everyone’s eyes except yours,” he emphasised, crossing his arms over another.

“I mean, you hated me. We hated each other,” You state matter-of-factly, as you got up from the stool to the counter to make your purchase. “I can’t believe I even tried to be nice with you.”

Jungkook faced you with an expression on his face you couldn’t decipher. “I didn't hate you, not completely.”

That was news. You always thought Jungkook and his little gang were out to torture every weakling in school. Jungkook especially liked to torture you, so it would be an understatement to say you were a bit surprised.

“Which part of your icky teenage self,” you jabbed a finger in his shoulder playfully. “-even tolerated me?”

“The part that tolerated you thought you were special. And you still are, Y/N. Special.”  He repeated.

There was a twinkle in his eyes when he spoke that you didn’t miss. Your heart felt like it was floating, warmed by the how Jungkook meant every word he said about you. Your stomach did this thing where it felt like a million bees were swarming around when you felt shy. A blast of warmth shot up your arms. The feeling lingered even when you pushed The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes in his direction.

Jungkook’s smirk didn’t wipe off his face after you had given your payment. The silence seemed unusual, did you just share an intimate, if brief, moment with your high school foe? Why had he called you special? You never stood out even when you were classmates, so why was he saying this now?

“I’ll go stamp this, yeah?” he cuts the silence. You nod, and he vanishes into the storeroom again. He comes back five minutes later this time and hands you the paper bag. You take your leave and silently leave the store.

What you don’t see is Jungkook’s gaze following you intently as you pull the door, walk across the street from the store and disappear into the night.

~*~

You returned home, your laptop greeting you with tons of messages from work. You cursed each of them, especially the one from your boss asking you to revise last week’s updates even though you emailed in a bunch of times saying you did. You pulled an all-nighter as you completed the tasks expected of you. By the time you were done, it was already two-thirty in the night.

You flopped on your bed, your body relaxing as it hit the soft covers. You breathed a sigh of relief as you pulled out your purchase from the paper bag.

You suddenly remembered the poem and the petals. You decided it would be weird, but you turned the book over as if you were expecting the same contents to pool from it. And sure enough, you were right.

Not one, but two pieces of notebook scraps settled onto your lap with some blue coloured rose petals. Your mind did a mental ‘what the fuck?’ before picking up the petals and placing them on your night stand. You picked the scraps and read them, never expecting what you would find.

 Help me, for I am surrounded by loquacious ghosts

Yet you stand there, a beauty in flesh and bone

Women would die for me,

yet my mind echoes only your name

Break me from my reverie,

To kiss you in the blue sweater that hugs your delicate frame

You eye me with pure hate, yet is I to blame

I treat you wrongly,

But only to hide my love for you – if you push me away.

 You read the second one now.

 Blue,

It is the colour of the sweater you wear every first Monday of the month

The pencil you write poems at the top of your chemistry notebook,

The rain as it brushes against your skin when you're late to class

The look on your face when you're happy

The sound of my heart when you walk past my seat at the cafeteria table

The smile you wear when your friends hook their arms around yours

And my love for you that will never be requited.

 Cold sweat broke out on your spine. This wasn't some love poem that was mistakenly placed in your book. It felt like the poems were directed at you. Even the first poem made you feel slightly suspicious because you had a resemblance to the girl mentioned in it.

You tried to knit all three poems together, because all those years in poetry class made you an expert at analysing. You found a connection. They were written by someone in high school.

The love for books, the pencil, the sweater, the behaviour traits, all reminded you of your teenage self from years ago. It was so intricate, as if this person had been observing you through a lens in class for years.

It was someone that you hated and he hated you too, but then again, you hated a lot of people in high school, and they too, you felt, disliked you. You had few friends, however good ones, all of which whom you remained in contact today.

Who could this person be? He definitely had outstanding poetry skills, the words worming its way into your heart ever since you had the first poem. You felt shy. Someone, in your class, liked you behind a mask of hatred. Your body contracted as you concluded that you had a mystery writer sending you messages with every book you bought. You wondered why you were living in the dark for a long time.

How had this not happened earlier? Why was it that before buying the book, it didn’t seem to have any individual contents in it, but after taking it home, it did?

You wanted more answers. You wanted to write back, but whom would you be writing to? You didn't know this person or his address. You realised that this was a one-way connection. You could only build your assumption if you had more poems to build them on.  

And that could only happen if you happened to go to a certain bookstore couple of blocks from your apartment.

~*~

You went there the next weekend, on a cold Sunday morning. You kept the mystery poet a secret to yourself, although it haunted you for the whole week while you were at work.

As the weeks ensued, work was piling up, but you felt at peace when you were there among the books and Jungkook's company. The weekends went by with Jungkook narrating funny stories of certain customers he encountered, high school memories, work schedules, and of course books.

“No, Dark Places was absolutely not one of Gillian Flynn’s best works,” you commented, one evening.

“But the Satanic vibe was cool, you have to admit,” Jungkook’s voice was lost as he piled books in front of a stand.

Jungkook was a diligent worker for a newbie; he polished the shelves and smoothened out dog-eared books. He always checked the register and counted the cash, aligned the books the correct way, made note of what books were available and those which needed immediate restocking. He lost his callous attitude of high school years, but you berated yourself for always comparing his high school habits to the Jungkook now.

You rolled your eyes. “Have you read Karin Slaughter’s books though?”

You could feel his smirk from behind the stack of books. “Pretty Girls.”

“The Good Daughter.” You argued.

“Pretty Girls was grislier. I like.” God, you wanted to lunge a book at this guy. Everything gory or Satanic amused him, it seemed.

Jungkook was funnier than you imagined with the comedic antics he sometimes pulled off, by failing at twirling a book in his hands to accidentally hitting his head on the storeroom door behind the register. He sometimes flirted here and there, which was mostly harmless. But you couldn’t forget that time in the store when he called you special. The look he gave, the sincerity behind it, how genuine it felt.

You kept buying books and of course the love letters kept emerging along with the roses. You still had no idea who this person was, but as time went by, you kept falling more and more in love. You kept the petals in your journal. They did dry off, but you kept them regardless. You always kept the poems in your drawer, neatly piled into one corner. Sometimes, you pressed them close to your chest as if the words would somehow leap up from the page, dissolve into your rib cages and settle near your heart.

But one stormy morning that you were at the bookstore, you were weighed down by how work was progressing. The company had faced some setbacks, so you were responsible for getting the hearing from your boss. You tried to mask your sadness until you see Jungkook doing something suspicious near the centre of the room.

There was a small stand, where usually books were heaped into a mountain of paperbacks. It looked as if the boy was trying to pile the books in a house of cards fashion. The experiment was bound to fail, and Jungkook was lucky Namjoon was never here on weekends to see what was about to be happen.

But you help him instead.

“Do you like working here, Kook?” you tried to sound nonchalant. You hand him two books at a time, while he dexterously stabilised a book on top of another.

“I do,” he replies. “It’s relaxing. Especially when I’m not sweaty and working out all the time. Why?”

“It’s just, I hate my work environment you know, and I miss writing– “

Jungkook eyes you worriedly as he stops midway through the activity. You don’t notice and hand him some books anyway, but they fall right at the edge of the pile and the whole stack falls down on both of you like dominoes.

Jungkook falls back first on the ground, catching you as you fall on his stomach. Your faces are inches away from each other, but you rest your head on his chest, tears stinging the corners of your eyes.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! See? I’m such a mess. I can’t do anything right, I’m a failure, I’m-“

Jungkook rests his hand on your back and the other hand gently stroking your forehead. You picked up on his hesitance, as if he was asking your body to relax as a signal that he was comforting you. You did relax, you felt as ease. The weeks when you were around him, you never felt comfortable with anyone in your life. Let alone the fact that he was attractive, erm, cute – but he was probably one of the best people you knew.

“Shut up okay? You're amazing. Those assholes at work don't know how talented you are. You're amazing.” Jungkook whispered, rubbing your back in small circles. “I…I sometimes don’t like working at my centre either. The toxic masculinity over there makes me want to puke. I hate the environment, and sometimes I think I’m the one who sparked it.

He wraps both arms round you now, and you're reminded again literally, that being surrounded by books and Jungkook was what led you to Fact and Fiction every weekend. You two lie there for a good ten seconds, before you realised that a customer may walk in any moment. There was also the mess to sort out.  

You help Jungkook up, wiping your tears with the back of your hand.

“I can’t really see you cry, I start crying too,” Jungkook jokes, as he hands you a tissue from the tissue box. Always so concerned, you took note. “Is there something that keeps you happy apart from books? Y-you could try and do that?”

"Actually,” you sniff. “There is something that keeps me happy these days. Someone keeps writing me love letters."

There, your secret finally revealed. Jungkook gaped you, as if he didn’t believe it. Honestly, you didn’t either until you made the connection yourself.

He proceeded to ask you details of the discovery, and was shocked himself when you told him of how you thought the person could be someone from high school. It really got him thinking. He named each classmate you’ve ever had an interaction with, but you couldn’t picture any of them having any interest in you.

How did your mystery writer/(lover?) know so much about you? Little details, little quirks. Was he a stalker? But how did he know exactly which books you bought and when?

"Well, maybe you should write something of your own too. Maybe like, in response to how you feel when you read his poems.” The boy suggested, picking the books from the floor, dusting them before putting it in a box next to him.

You mirrored his actions. You pondered over the thought for a while though. Writing to him would be a way to practice your writing that you thought you lost. It was a great idea; you were doing it for yourself. And then if you ever meet this mystery guy, you would show him too.

“Wait, before you leave,” the doe-eyed boy stops your tracks. The books were successfully placed in the box, and you were helping him put it in the sore room when he asks you to wait.

Jungkook walks you toward the end of the room. He picks out a book and shows you the cover. It’s a limited-edition copy of one of your favourite authors of all time, and signed. You wondered what it was doing at the back, when it should be out in front.

“I saved this copy, just for you,” Jungkook’s cheeks blushed a tinge of pink. “I remembered how much you liked his work in school. And I’m willing to give this to you, half the price.”

You ran and hugged Jungkook the tightest hug you had ever given someone in years. He laughed, returning the hug. You felt like the luckiest girl, customer, (whatever!) and you almost felt bad because you had gotten something exclusive for a discount because you knew the employee, anyone else would have paid fortunes for this. You thought about declining, but Jungkook really insisted.

“Don’t think about refusing. I’ll go stamp this before you make your payment,” he says before you could protest.

Really, where had Jungkook been all this time? So much kindness, this boy was brimming with endless love that you thought you didn’t deserve. After a while, he comes out and you hand him the cash.  

As you say your goodbyes and make your leave, Jungkook says “And please don’t cry, wouldn’t want to taint that pretty face, right?”

Something stirred in your heart. You had just started seeing Jungkook as a man, was it now that he started seeing you as a woman? A blush creeps up your neck as you contemplate the thought all the way home.

~*~

You carefully keep the purchase on your bed. Taking out the scraps of love poems from your drawer, you needed to look at your muse before you started writing on your own.

You stretched your hands, pen in hand, ready to recreate wonders when it hit the paper. But you were blank. It’s like your mind had wired out all the imaginations you had kept stored for the last couple of years. You fell flat on your desk, exhaustion over coming you. Had you really lost your touch? Your parents, teachers and friends always praised you for your writing skills, have you let them down? But you weren’t really going to quit this easily.

You looked at your purchase. There must be another poem hidden inside. As if controlled by an entity, you opened the book, flipped the leaves and saw the very page sitting in between the middle pages. You removed the pink rose petals too, your guy never seemed to forget adding them in. You turned the scrap over.

 Today I heard your laugh

Setting my heart in a frenzied trance

The purest sound even the sweetest nightingale could not match

Like fireflies bouncing against thin glass

The most beautiful treasure, I can never have.

 Your eyes watered. It was a poem tinier from the rest, but this one struck something within you. “Like fireflies bouncing against thin glass”, the words feeling sweeter every time you repeated them. You couldn’t believe someone, who was so far from you, could love you this vehemently.

Suddenly, you had found your strength. You were going to write. You were doing this for him. For you.

You picked up the pen and the words just came to you. It was a struggle, but it was a start, you console yourself. You never imagined you would be writing a love letter to someone you had never seen, touched and spoke to, but you didn’t care. Your hands worked away, filling the page in front of you.

But your mind echoed the same mantra over, and over again: I am doing this for us. I am doing this for us. I am doing this for us.

~*~

It's three weeks later that you decide to do an experiment. It's been quite a while since you've been to the store, and the poems stopped coming as well. Work was driving you crazy. You knew sometime in this week you had to drop by the bookstore, so you decided to see if your mystery lover came on the weekdays.

Another employee whom you didn’t know personally and Namjoon were there. Jungkook, of course, was nowhere in sight like you guessed. Namjoon gives you a wave from the register as he speaks to a customer. You knew that you already had too many books, but today was crucial if you wanted to see if your experiment worked out. You could also return the book after you bought it, granted you brought it in after fifteen days. You could buy a book for someone else; your mystery man would never know you were buying it for yourself. Yeah, that’s what you decided do.

You picked up a random title from the shelf and made your way to the counter. The store was mostly empty, except one or two customers. Everybody was busy on a weekday.

As you made your payment, you noticed Namjoon stamping the inside of the book before handing it over to you. The counter was designed in a way so that a person standing a normal distance away couldn’t see what was inside of it. So naturally, your eyes furrowed in confusion.

“Don’t you have to go inside and stamp?” You asked, wondering if Namjoon made the wrong stamp. Even the brightest minds can forget.

“What do you mean? Namjoon looked at as if you had said the most ridiculous thing ever.

"Like whenever Jungkook checks out a book, he goes into the storeroom and stamps? It’s a rule?" You weren’t being sure of what you were saying right now. You sounded like a poor student explaining the concept of rocket physics to a professor.

"Oh, I don't know why he does that, since there's already a stamp here." He holds up a plastic rubber stamp like someone would hold an antique. "And I mean, you could do that, since there are few spare ones in the storeroom, but that’s like extra effort you have to put in. I'm not sure why he does that."

You nodded, kind of silent.

"Does he do that to you or for every customer?"

You realise you never even noticed this. Usually when the store had customers, you were engrossed in reading or looking at books. You never even wondered if Jungkook went to the storeroom to stamp all the books that were purchased. The bookstore would be very crowded during weekends, and the time taken for Jungkook to go and come back usually takes five or ten minutes. Surely, he would’ve taken one of the stamps to the counter itself cause the journey would be too tiring. But you didn’t know for sure what he did for other customers. You slapped yourself in your head for being so ignorant.

You left the store with an uncertainty heavy on your chest.

You return home. Billions of questions bounced from one corner of your mind to another in an intense ping-pong battle. What was worse, when you looked inside the book you bought, there was no poem. No rose petals either.

Could it be that Jungkook knew your mystery guy? Was he the one slipping in the poems when you made your purchase? Did your guy come in the middle of the week and hand Jungkook his writing and leave it up to him to do the favour? Is that why there were no poems or roses today, cause Jungkook wasn’t at work?

You didn’t know. All you knew was that the best way to handle your doubts was to confront Jungkook.

You noticed that you needed to buy groceries for the night. You just had take-out for three days in a row and now the thought of Chinese food made you feel icky. You hit yourself on the head for not buying groceries earlier after you were at at the store. You took your purse and made it in time at the grocery before closing.

Once you were done, you stepped out with your heavy paper bag and saw it was pouring heavily. Pedestrians were already waiting outside the store, hoping the rain would subside soon. Nobody suspected today that it would rain and neither did you.

“Fuck,” you muttered, you didn’t bring an umbrella. The bookstore was just across the grocery. It had a bigger shade, enough to cover seven people from the rain. You silently thanked Namjoon’s choice of constructing the store as you launched yourself across the street.

Jungkook was standing under the shed, looking for something in his bag. You didn’t notice he was there until he called your name.

“Y/N!” his eyes lit up. Desperate, your eyes searched his hands. He was carrying an umbrella. You breathed easier.

“Oh hey,” you say, the rain making it hard for you to be audible. Raindrops pounded against the shed like fists banging a door. “I thought you didn’t work on weekdays?”

“I don’t,” he said. “I was meeting someone here for work.” You nodded, wondering how would bring up the topic of the poems. Maybe you would ask him on Saturday, two days from now. Right at this moment, didn’t seem like the best time.

“Would you mind dropping me off at the subway, though? It’s just near my place,” you knew you sounded desperate, but you needed to get back home. You remembered he had to take the subway to get home too. Jungkook violently nodded his head as he opened his umbrella. You both started walking, shivering slightly at the cold.

"Hey, come closer. Don't want to get your pretty outfit wet," Jungkook huddled you closer to his side, wrapping a hand around your waist for purchase. Your cheeks reddened, maybe at the way the wind whipped your skin or the fact that no one's ever been this near you.

As the space between you and Jungkook closed, you looked at the boy who was always so concerned with your well-being. He had been occupying your thoughts lately. Maybe because of his dorky personality or because he was very smouldering in person, but either ways, your experience of crushes told you that this was the beginning of another infatuation. But you, liking your high school classmate? As much you fantasised him from time to time, you had to resist thinking about it. He maybe had a girlfriend, who knew? Someone as wonderful as him deserved one.  

But in this moment, under the incessant rain where both of you trying to turn his upturned umbrella, Jungkook breaking into bouts of laughter as a car splashed water on your clothes, and you complaining of your matted hair – you felt so happy. The puzzle of the poems was longer a worry to you. All you wanted was to be happy in the moment, with Jungkook.

“So, are you going to give this mystery guy a chance?” Jungkook's voice strained to speak over the rain. Ah, coming to the point. You had been so sure you wouldn’t bring up the topic, but destiny had other plans.

“How am I supposed to give him a chance when I don't know who he is or how he looks like?” You say, uncomfortable at how wet the hem of your jeans was. You were walking at an uncomfortable speed, trying to avoid the puddles in your path but in vain.

“He surely knew what he had to do to get you swoon over him,” Jungkook laughed, as if he was so sure. He was right though, strangely.

“He does have a way with words,” you agreed. The wind was horrible now, pulling your top over your midriff.   "I'm scared cause maybe the day he'll come up to me, I'll look like trash."

"No, you never look like trash. You look pretty in whatever you wear, Y/N." Jungkook scoffed. You blushed again. God, why was it so hard not to blush in front of him? “But you do know what's coming.

“What is?” Honestly your mind had been occupied so much about work, and your anonymous lover than you had no time to think the next Jungkook wanted to say.

“Valentine's Day.”

As soon as you heard it, something in you jolted. Two days from now was Valentine’s Day.

"Do you think he might make his appearance that day?" you asked, your voice high as a sparrow’s chirp. Jungkook offered to hold your grocery bag in return for holding his umbrella. You obliged.

"Can't really say that, but would it make your day if he did?" he continued.

“Oh my god, yes,” you stressed on the word, even slightly a little bit anxious because you wouldn’t know what you did if he came out of nowhere.

“Does someone have butterflies in their stomach now?”

"Stop it.” You nudged an elbow at him. You have no idea what he does to me."

"I do know." He holds his gaze longer this time. The rain finally subdued. You saw something in Jungkook's eyes then, you're not sure what – sadness, hope, expectation? But whatever it was, you felt something reverberate in your ribs long after he tears his gaze away.

"I think this is where we part." You say, brushing the hair from your eyes. You were still holding his umbrella, waiting for the right moment to give it to him.

Jungkook suddenly takes your free hand and squeezes it in his own. "Whatever you do, Y/N, please give that guy a chance. He does seem to really like you." He tucked a hair beside your ear, you shuddered a bit at the cold touch.

Why was Jungkook being so persistent about it? Why was he so serious when it came to you and your mystery lover? Whatever the deal was, Jungkook's expression didn't waver. He was right too, and that strengthened your resolve to accept this stranger no matter who he was. You nodded, which made Jungkook only happier.

"I wish I can see him." You sighed, wondering if Jungkook was thinking what you were thinking.

"Y/N," Jungkook leaned over to whisper in your ear. "Maybe you just need to keep looking around you, because he could be so near to you, but you just don't know it yet."

You still don't understand what the raven-haired stunner meant by his words when he hands you the groceries, leaves without his umbrella and descends the subway stairs.

~*~

It was Saturday. Valentine’s Day.

Jungkook woke up in his one-bedroom apartment, a little shaky. Today was the day.

As he reached over to pick up the backpack he took to work, he unzipped the tiny front pocket. Scraps of paper fell out from the seams, like snowflakes on a wintry morning. The twenty-three-year-old looked at each piece, running his fingers over the love poems his high school-self had written to you. If Jungkook had told his angsty teenage self that someday the poems he had written at the top of his history notebook would be read by you, he would have never believed himself.

Jungkook always liked you.

It wasn’t love at first sight, heck, he didn’t believe in that. He didn’t mind you at first, but he realised what made you so special than the rest. You were strong, maybe not in the vocal way, but in the way you saw the world around you. When the teacher complimented how well you would write your answers, you evocative your poetry was – Jungkook could never imagine how a shy girl, her nose so lost in a book at the corner of class would do that.

So when Jungkook read your answers one day, or when he would sneak a glance at your writing, he felt insecure. The real reason why Jungkook always teased you was that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t write as well you did, put his mind to something that you did so well, to be so intelligent, strong and soft. From you, he understood that strength doesn’t equate to being aggressive, or overly vocal. It can be in the way you can showed kindness as well.

So that’s why started pestering you, to hide his own feelings he could never reveal to anyone.

Jungkook never forgot how even after he teased you repeatedly in class, you would always give him an extra pencil when he wanted one, or a reassuring smile when he was anxious before a test. That was the only limit of his interactions with you, but it was more than enough.

He quickly took notice of you in the most subtle ways. The pencil you wrote with, the way your hair was styled one morning, that blue sweater that was apparently your favourite. How you passed by his seat at the cafeteria every morning to sit with your friends. How opinionated you were about certain authors and their writing styles. Even when Jungkook had to put up his ‘popular boy’ persona, sometimes he would tune out all the meaningless conversations he had just to hear how soft your laugh sounded when your friends showed you something funny.

You quickly became his muse. Jungkook was good at physical activities. He was popular, everyone had expectations from him to go on to college with a football scholarship. Everyone looked up to Jungkook cause made himself look like an idol. But in reality, Jungkook had nothing to show except for a fleeting charisma.  Jungkook was good at physical activities, but not at words.

But you made him fall in love with words. Like everyone else, he was at first impatient at why poets and writers took so long to get to the point. But he learnt from you that art was patience. Love was patience.

He struggled, for weeks, months, trying to get the right words out of him. How he felt for you, how you made him feel. He now realised how hard it was express your feelings in few words. But with some practice, Jungkook eventually got there. He had begun to read more, surprising his parents too, but he eventually loved the activity. It calmed him. Soothed his nerves. Staying up late at night just reading, Jungkook noticed his English answers were improving. When he received the final grade, it wasn’t great. But he was satisfied. His whole gang slapped high-fives with him asking how he cheated his way through the exam successfully. He bit his lower lip, a habit of his, as he shrugged at them in response. The real reason was a pretty girl who always sat in the corner of class.

He kept his proudest pieces of poetry hidden in his bag for so long, secretly thanking you for realising a part of him he never knew existed. He took the bag everywhere with him, serving as his strength. His true, strength.  Not the kind that had him running 20 laps around school and bench press 30 kilos to impress his coach.

He always regarded you as his first love, not Hae-ri, not any of the girls he went out with as a joke. He was sad when he graduated high school, but was too shy to come up and thank you. He regretted not saying anything to you then, knowing life is not one to give second chances.

But when Jungkook saw you in the bookstore for the first time, part of him thought this was fate. His feelings resurfaced, stronger than ever. He still had the scraps of poetry in his bag in the storeroom, he could just retrieve them and slip them into the book you would purchase. Maybe even some roses Namjoon liked to decorate on the inside.

When you slid your book the counter, Jungkook had deliberated the idea. But he knew that everything happens for a reason, so he decided to do it anyway. You would never know who it was, but at least he could tell you how he felt for you in one way. He kept repeating this as many times as you bought something from the store. He loved your company, he felt like the luckiest man in the world. Never had he felt happier when he was talking to you, getting to know the real you.

So that’s why he wanted to reveal himself to you, behold! I’m the writer behind all those poems!

Valentine’s Day would be the perfect opportunity to do so. He just hoped, wished, that you wouldn’t push him away. Or, be disappointed. That was Jungkook’s fear that kept him wide awake at night. Could you have been hoping for someone else? Did you not look at Jungkook the way he looked at you?

He would only know today. He was bracing himself, when he got changed, when he showered, when he raced to the subway and made it sharp at ten am.

Namjoon was already there, smiling at the young boy wondering why his cheeks were so red. Jungkook’s heart never beat that fast. His heart felt like it would be sliced open by a hundred bullets. He quickly put on his apron and pretended to be busy arranging the books on the middle shelves in proper order. It was already an hour when he heard the door open.

Jungkook’s feet almost leapt up when he saw you coming inside. He waved, a bit too much he thought, and took few seconds to gather himself together. He was ready to approach you any moment now. He would take your hands, press them against his chest and say: “Its me, Y/N. I’m the anonymous writer you’re looking for.”

Jungkook edged himself forward. All this time he’d been waiting for this.

Until he sees Namjoon walking up to you first.

~*~

“Y/N,” Namjoon approaches you. You didn’t expect him to be talk to you, since he was always so busy on weekends. He cleared his throat. “I just wanted to say…that you look pretty today.”

“What?” you laugh, nervously. Namjoon calling you pretty? All of a sudden? You never even thought he even looked at you beyond a friend. Yes, he was very good looking, Jungkook must have talked about you to him, hadn’t he? The former always complimented on your appearance, making you smile inwardly. 

“Gosh,” he chuckles in return. “Your laugh really does sound like fireflies bouncing against thin glass.”

You blink twice, hand going right up to your mouth. Namjoon. Wait, Namjoon? So, it had been him all this time? Yes, it all made sense! Only someone as charming, educated and well-mannered as Namjoon fit in all the right pieces of the mystery man you pictured. No wonder the poems had a very loving touch, it was written by someone like him. But how he had he known so much about you? Was it Jungkook who told him all those teeny, insignificant details that you were made of? 

At that moment, you didn't care. All you knew was that Kim Namjoon noticed you. He had noticed you.

You smile at him.

You looked over your shoulder, Jungkook’s face turning to a shade of grey. His seemed frozen in position. You wondered why. You just wanted to jump up and shake him and scream into his face: Jungkook! Namjoon is the one! He’s been the one writing to me!

“I've been meaning to ask, would you like to go out to coffee with me today? It is Valentine’s Day,” he scratches the back of his neck. You take his hands in yours. You nod willingly. You were too excited that all you had was time to point at Namjoon to Jungkook when Namjoon had his back turned to remove his apron.

Jungkook got the message you tried to tell him. He only smiled, but you wondered why it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

~*~

The café shop that you and Namjoon decided on was already swarming with customers, couples mostly. You guys decided to sit outside, a table for two. You were so excited, you were ready to bombard Namjoon with a series of questions, hoping it would give you the insight it needed. You both ordered two lattes and brownies with ice-cream topping.

“I can’t believe you readily agreed to go out with me,” the man before you shrugs modestly. “I mean, I could pass on as your elder brother, right?”

“Um, no, I was so happy that you asked, I…I never imagined, really. I’m really happy you did,” you stuttered, reaching out your arms to touch his. He appreciated the compliment.

“That’s so sweet, Y/N,” Namjoon smiled again, resting the palm of his hand on his cheek, giving you a longing gaze.

“Sweet, just like the poems you wrote for me,” you giggled, waiting to hear just what he would say. You almost choked on the next words.  

“The what?” He blinked. Immediately, you knew you looked stupid. You tried to find your words.

“I said, just the like the poems you wrote for me.”

“I never wrote poems for you, heck, I can't even write poetry, Y/N.” Namjoon sipped on his latte that arrived. Your knees turned rubbery. He was joking right? You continued to insist, but Namjoon just shook his head firmly. 

“I'm serious, I never wrote anything for anyone. Ask all my exes.” He was looking at your curiously now. You did too. Your hands were getting sweaty with nervousness.

“Then why did you say that my laugh sounded like fireflies tinkling against glass?” Exactly your question.

“Cause, I heard Jungkook saying it was.”

Your heart again did a little flip at his name. He was talking about you to Namjoon. But Jungkook was narrating the same line from the last poem you received, how is that possible, granted if he didn’t know the content? Or if, someone had given him the poem in the first place and he just happened to see it? A streak of anger went up your body when you thought of Jungkook intruding on your privacy.

“If...if, you didn't write these poems, then who did?” You searched your bag, taking out the poems that you kept in your wallet. You laid them out, one by one, on the table. There were many of them, but Namjoon scrutinised each piece closely. His eyes darted from one end to another, eyebrows furrowed in confusion suggesting he was in deep thought. Namjoon squinted at the scribbly, childish scrawls on the scraps and suddenly his brain clicked.

“This seems a lot like the poems Jungkook showed me, you know.”

You looked up shocked, your heart feeling like it was dropped from a height. Jungkook writes poems? You knew he read often; you didn’t know he wrote too. Did he have the time to? When did he start writing? All these questions made your head feel like it was stuffed with cotton.

Namjoon noticed your silence. “I know,” he laughs. “Seems weird right? He doesn’t seem like it, but that boy does have some talent in the writing department. He says it calms him somehow.”

“Do you keep roses in the store room, Namjoon?” You said, not looking at him. Your voice almost sounded robotic.

“I do, to brighten up the space there. Although I realised on the days you would come, there would always be one rose less the last time I counted them.”

Do you think...?

Suddenly, your brain had connected the dots. You shouldn't have judged Namjoon so quickly. All the times you remembered, Jungkook mentioned going to the storeroom to stamp the books you purchased. There was actually a stamp right there in the counter, but he never failed to go inside the storeroom instead. Maybe he slipped in the poems and the roses then?

And the handwriting. You remember going through Jungkook's essays in high school when you tried to help him out, even a bit. You remembered how bad his handwriting was.

But Jungkook, writing poems for you? You admit you did feel a soft spot for Jungkook albeit your sour history with him in high school, but soon you realised he's so much more than his shy demeanour. Yes, your assumption on Namjoon being your mystery writer overlooked all the clues, and you wished you thought more thoroughly. Now, because of your impulsive decision-making skills, you landed up in this awkward situation with Namjoon.  

Jungkook was the one writing poems for you. Only he could notice those habits you had possessed in school, he was your classmate for fuck’s sake! All those years that you hated him for being mean to you, he was crushing on you instead? How, why?

But then you understood. You liked Jungkook. Ever since the first poem. He became such a beautiful writer, with all the delicate details he noticed about you. So, there was meaning behind him calling you special. There was meaning when he looked at you for a few seconds longer. There was meaning in his smile, in his actions, in his concern. There was meaning in every little thing he did because he liked you, and still likes you. And you liked him too.

Why had he resisted the ache in his heart to come forward and tell you the truth about who the person behind the poems was?

You put back the poems and muttered several apologies to Namjoon before you fled the scene, your mind rehearsing exactly what to tell Jungkook the first thing you meet him.

~*~

You barged inside the familiar bookstore, the cold air from the air-conditioner hitting you smack in the face. There were no customers, it was Valentine’s Day you remind yourself. Jungkook was busy cleaning up the bar, a solemn look colouring his usually bright face.

He looked a bit startled when he saw you open the door, as if he didn't expect you to enter at this hour.

“Y/N! How was your date?” He faked enthusiasm. You marched up to him and slammed the poems down on the counter.

“You could have told me, you know. The worst I could do was to storm off,” You crossed your arms, this time not as a defence mechanism.

“What are you talking about?” He wasn’t looking at you, he was looking at the poems now. How long was he going to keep up this act?

“Disappearing to stamp my book? The horrible handwriting? The intricate details about how I was in school? Sounds like only someone who knew me, or observed me very well, would know.” You said, tone a bit lighter. “I'm not dumb, Kook.”

There was a slight pause on Jungkook’s end before he speaks. “Took you this long to find out, though.”

You grinned. “You’re a coward.” You leaned forward, slightly kissing him on the lips. He responds, smiling, taking his hand to cup you on the cheek. It’s awkward at first, but his lips were just the right amount of soft and yours. Suddenly, Namjoon, your temporary crush on Changmin, disappear. The moment is magical as you lock both arms around Jungkook’s neck as he kisses you excitedly. Sparks fly between both your bodies.

You break away from the kiss. “You say big words in your poems, yet you can't muster up the courage to confess to the girl you like?”

“I thought…you and Namjoon hyung...” Jungkook’s cheeks are flushed crimson, as he eyes the floor in attempt to hide his evident embarrassment.

“Which wouldn't have happened if you confessed to me earlier.” You rolled your eyes, baffled that he didn’t speak up when he should have. “Do you know how awkward it was, realising you were the one behind the poems and not Namjoon?”

“Oh my god, did you leave him there all alone?” He tried to suppress a small laugh. “So, do you like me now?”

“We just kissed, Jungkook.” You punched him. “But yes, I have liked you ever since I read your poem the first time. And your writing is just…wow.”

“I try,” He did that thing again where he rubbed the back of his neck when he got shy. “Only for the girl I always had a crush on.”

“And you succeeded.” Throwing your hands over his neck again, nuzzling your nose against his, you felt the comfort, the same one whenever you were around Jungkook, slowly making it way from your legs to your arms.

“Valentine's Day is not over yet, shall we go out?” You nodded at Jungkook’s suggestion as you both made your way out the store, no customers projected to come anyway.

Hand in hand, you realised that fairy tales with happy endings did exist. Except for princes, dragons and villains – your story had roses, poetry and Jeon Jungkook, your enigmatic writer in hidden notebook scraps, whom you loved with all your heart.

[passivenovember]

Thinking about Steve’s glamorous southern Grandmother teaching him haircare and the ways of men.

--

Louisiana Girl.

On wispy Saturday afternoons she sat under the hooded dryer in a world made of candy. 

Bubblegum walls upon which pastel images of women in shiny blue makeup oversaw the hustle and bustle of women in Eden. Magazines open in their laps, gum smacking between cherry red lips, talking a mile a minute about the intricacies of life. 

Husbands and kids away at college, building a world that Steve hoped he could understand someday. And, in that twangy southern drawl that he knew came from this same place his mother did; Louisiana, where women were spun of gold the color of corn fields, his grandmother shared her secrets.

She was called Boo Boo because it made her feel young, and that was the first lesson Steve learned in his life. Women should always be made to feel young and beautiful. His mother’s mother was not nanna, or grandmama, or even Cheryl, which the ladies at the beauty parlor disclosed to Steve with smiles on their bright pink faces.

She was Boo Boo because she looked like Dolly Parton and smoked Marlboro golds like Johnny Cash, and always said that Steve was her greatest love. 

Everything about her was plated in gold, from her strawberry ringlets down to her heart.

Boo Boo never had much of a taste for Midwestern life. 

She thought of it as some special sort of hell Steve’s mother had been exiled to when she married Patrick Harrington. A desolate wasteland far from the molasses bayou's of the promised land. Displaced from the twangy guitars of Crosby Steels and Miss Lorette Lynn. 

Boo Boo never understood why Delilah couldn’t bring Steve home, to New Orleans. Why she insisted on keeping him in the world of men, content with a life devoid of magic.

Everything about Hawkins confused her. The way women wandered the streets with flat hair and unpainted nails was somethin’ else, she said, curious how they went without their armor. 

That was one of Boo Boo’s best kept secrets; women need their chainmail when they go out into the world. Any southern lady worth her weight in hairspray wouldn’t be caught dead with chipped polish, and she taught Steve how to be a southern woman through and through after the first time she caught him playing in his mother’s high heels.

Boo Boo called it what it was, from the very beginning. “Got to look pretty for your man someday, baby doll.” 

Steve watched as she slipped one long, golden finger nail under the hooded dryer, checking highlights trapped under waves of aluminum foam. “Daddy says I won’t ever get a husband.” Steve said, frowning. “Daddy says--”

“That man thinks Lemon Pepper chicken wings come wet, darlin’, I wouldn’t listen to a word he says.” Boo Boo smiled down at him, her long eyelashes fluttering. “Pretty little thing like you? I bet the boys will be swarming like honey bees in the springtime.”

Steve shook his head. “I’m not pretty. My knees looked like baked potatoes.”

“Potatoes?” Boo Boo declared. “I don’t think so, you just gotta grow into that figure. And you will, someday.”

Steve never found it much use to argue, never found his footing even as the stylist came and removed Boo Boo’s hair from the dryer and they migrated, as all birds do, south for the winter. 

To the mint green chair in front of the big mirror where the spells were cast, boxing them into that perfect little dollhouse wonderland.

Steve watched in awe, leaning against the palm of his hand as Boo Boo grew more and more beautiful by the minute.

He wished that could be him. He hoped, someday, it would be.

--

Boo Boo said that being a lady lived in more than just the spray that went on in the morning. 

It was easy to be beautiful. To paint yourself up like a Barbie doll and gain attention of all kinds from good and bad men alike, but it was harder to keep a level head. To do the right thing, the way God intended.

He took her word as truth. As he grew up, Steve realized a lot of girls would never be ladies and it was evident, Boo Boo said, in the way they treated each other. Always tearing the next one down to make room for themselves, providing compliments that sting and bite back, taking chunks of invaluable flesh with them as they go.

That was the mark of Cain. 

The undoubtable truth that they would never grow into something worthy of respect.

When Boo Boo came to town for Christmas the year Steve fell in love for the first time, he had to know.

“How do I get girls to like me?” He asked, posted up in front of his mother’s vanity as Boo Boo went to work on his hair. “I mean. How do I get them to understand that I don’t want to hurt them, and I’m not a threat to them--”

“Why would you be a threat, baby doll?”

Steve thought of Billy. 

Billy Hargrove, who made his bones turn to pudding cups and his heart burn red with fire and heat under the light of eyes so blue Steve felt like Dolly probably wrote that song about him.

I can see the light of a clear blue mornin’--

“There’s a boy.” Steve said.

Because. “There’s always a boy.” Boo Boo began mixing the bleach in her little green bowl, smiling to herself. “And these girls feel threatened by you?”

“He likes me.” Steve thought of Billy’s lips, so pink they tasted like strawberry bubblegum, pressed against his under the bleachers during fifth period. Before he could stop himself, Steve’s fingers brushed his bottom lip, remembering.

Feeling the way Billy’s teeth had pulled that sensitive flesh, almost like he wanted to--

“I think he likes me.” Steve shook his head. “And they’re mad at me. Like maybe I took Billy from them, or something.”

“As long as he wasn’t kissin’ some poor girl while he’s kissin’ you, I don’t see how they hold any claim over him.” Boo Boo said, pinning Steve’s hair down as she added highlights to his soft brown locks. Highlights the exact shade of her own. “Real women see strength and they applaud it. Tearing other women down ain’t gonna get you nowhere.”

Steve knew what she meant. He wasn’t a woman, he was old enough to know that now, but in the matter of love?

Steve might as well have been a thirteen year old girl, the way he wanted to fight for this boy. The way he’d develop that killer instinct, to take what was so clearly his. What Billy had given to him. 

“If they try to tear me down first, what do I do?”

Boo Boo took a drag from the cigarette between her lips, fingers never stalling as they wrapped Steve’s head in aluminum foam. “If they’re weak enough to go after what’s already done, they aren’t worth your time, darlin’.”

Steve thought about his mother. His shining star. He thought, too, of Mary Bell. The pretty redheaded girl who sometimes held his father’s arm too long at the office. 

He thought of what his mother was always saying on the phone, to other women her age, a glass of wine in one hand and a funny smelling cigarette in the other.

She’s trying to take my man. Delilah Harrington, who was just as pretty as a magnolia in may and who was tough as steel, crumbled with the weight of that sentence. She’s gonna take him.

Steve stuck his lip out in thought. “What if they try to take Billy away from me?”

Boo Boo cackled, lifting her perfect fingernails to snatch and snub the cigarette into a pretty pink ash tray. “Honey,” She said, smiling. “I don’t care if that girl is God’s gift to this Earth, she ain’t woman enough to take your man.”

[achliegh]

Golden

Yeehaw Leo… it's all because this song came on one day (I don’t even really listen to country anymore so it really is fate). Leo is based off that song, each chapter is going to be based off a yeehaw song too.

@clearsuitcasecookienerd helped me out with this one!

For some background:

Leo is a bull rider as a side hustle.

His parents breed Tennessee Walking Horses ($$$$$)

His father died when he was 16 so he dropped out of school to help his mother and cousins run the ranch.

During the winter The Ranch hands take over the Ranch so Leo and his Mother can go visit family all over the country. During the Summer Leo and his cousins handle the ranch.

TW/CW: Smut, terrible yeehaw sayings and jokes, injuries, mentions of past death, minor character death, underage drinking, mentions of past arrests, cringe

Prologue:

Save a Horse Ride a Cowboy

And James was thrown off the mechanical bull for the third time! It seems as though no one on the team could stay on that thing long enough to win the prize of a free beer tab. Finn and Logan were standing hip to hip, forearms resting on the short fence surrounding the mechanical bull in this crowded bar. They were passing a cigarette back and forth as they made fun of Thomas and James as they rode this ferocious animal on the beginner setting.

They just got done for the day at a training camp designed to make them more agile on the ice, only the wingers and centers were there. It was being put on at the old professional hockey rink in New Orleans so it can get some use. The only reason why they choose this hick bar is because it was close to the rink and apparently LGBTQ+ friendly because some kid comes here and gets in fights with people who are homophobic.

A true hero.

Finn and Logan have been friend with benefits since college, did they plan to fuck again tonight? Yee-haw! They both had feelings for each other but refused to admit them because that's the one thing you aren’t supposed to do in a friends with benefits situation. Not fall in love. Everyone knew they were completely head over heels for each other but everyone also knew something was missing for them to be able to work. Usually they only talked about their feelings when they were angry.

Everyone in the bar was friendly, all locals too, so they would tell fun stories about what has gone down in this bar. Two names that would come up frequently and always together were, Leo and Clayton. Apparently, they are best friends and the most beloved frequenters of the bar. Yes, they were undersage. Yes, they did like to fight. No, no one snitches on them. Yes, Leo is a gay boy and Clayton is a Bi boy and they ran this town.

Both are apparently from very rich old parents who only ever had one child, so they treated each other like brothers. No one messed with them. Don't forget they know how to have a good time. Finn had squished his hand into Logan's back pocket while they listened to the local next to them at the fence talk about the two boys.

Then the double wood door to the bar was slammed open, two very tall specimens sauntered in, there was whooping and hollering as they walked past people. Tipping hats and throwing winks. The local leaned over and whispered to Finn and Logan who took a glance at the door and then back at the bull tossing their friends like a fucking salad.

“Speak of the devils.” Logan's attention was brought to the two men when they hopped over the fence to help James stand back up and dust him off. Cracking jokes with him, while the other went to the machine panel to change the setting. Logan took in their appearances.

The one with James had caramel toned skin with black coily hair under a dirty baseball cap. He was very well built and looked like his muscles were made of rock, Logan guessed he was around the same height as Finn. He was wearing a black shirt with the sleeve cut off low enough to show off his abdomen. He had on some dark dusty jeans and brown square toes boots, looks like he just got off work somewhere dusty. The man looked up to check out the crowd of newbies to the bar and Logan took note of his dark dark brown eyes, which landed on him and he saw the man smirk a little before leaning over to James to ask for the names of Finn and Logan. Rolling his eyes a little he decided to look at the other man.

Oh my.

Logan felt like he had been punched in the gut, this man had soft blonde curls wrapping around the rim of his old baseball cap that's backwards on his head. He was also tan but looked more golden like he was tanned under the sun. He couldn’t see his face from under the man's hat but he could see his hard muscles from under his incredibly tight tank top. He too was wearing jeans and square toed boots. Logan could tell this guy was taller than the other and he just wanted him. The veins in his arms and the strength of his hands made his grip tighten on his drink. He knew Finn was looking to by the way he could feel his hand flexing on his ass.

There was a song playing in the background that portrayed exactly how they felt.

“SAVE A HORSE RIDE A COWBOY!” The bar cheered as the blonde boy swung his leg on the bull and grabbed the handle, nodding at his friend. The bull started thrashing around and all Finn and Logan could focus on was the way this guy isolated his body so the top half of him barely moved while his hips rotated with the machine, smoothly. As the bull got faster the tighter the guy gripped the handle the more veins showed in his arms. Logan took a drink while Finn took a drag.

When the man was finally flung off, he had won what Thomas and James were trying so desperately trying to win. When the man stood up he was right in front of Logan and Finn. Logan just about spit out his drink when he saw this man's face. Like it was chiseled from fucking god, dimples, electric blue eyes that shot electricity to their groins, sculpted eyebrows and a scar on bridge of his nose. He smiled and his teeth were perfect beside a chip on his left front tooth.

They had to have him. After hours of teasing looks and sexy line dances, which was a sentence Finn swore he would never say, they finally got this angel of a cowboy into their hotel room. His name was Leo, and god damn was he packing.

He was fucking into Logan as the smaller man fingered Finn open and sucked him off at the same time, Leo shifted a little to hit Logan's prostate, a loud moan was heard from around Finn’s cock. Logan pulled off of Finn and Pushed back on Leo like he couldn’t help it, catching Leo by surprise and asking him to pull out. Leo did because he was a literal angel.

Leo sat back on his heels and smoothed his hands over Logan's hips with a worried look in his eyes. “Did I hurt you? Are you okay?” His voice was heavy with lust and worry, that thick southern accent caused the other two to groan.

“Don’t you remember what song was playing when we first saw you?” Logan and Finn were now on their knees facing each other but looking at Leo with hungry eyes. Leo looked down as he thought for a moment, then it dawned on him. He looked up at them and smiled a little shy, he was about to say something but he was pushed back to lay down. He shuffles a little to get more comfortable, Finn and Logan both mentioned that they were switches so he had no clue what to expect when two extremely sex hockey players asked him into their bed. Clayton was jealous.

He groans as he feels Finn grind back onto his cock, he looks up at the red head and smiles Finn is definitely enjoying himself. Leo placed his hands on Finn’s hips to help him sink down on his cock, furrowing his brows he tries his best not to fuck up into Finn as he gets used to Leo. Which they did mention Finn hasn’t bottomed in a while but he really wanted to with Leo and that made him feel special. Leo opens his eyes from when he scrunched them shut to control himself, he sees Logan watching Finn and stroking himself. An idea comes onto Leo’s head, tapping on Logan's arm he wraps his hand around his bicep and pulls him over to him.

“How about you ride my face, sugarbug? Hmm?” Leo is pulled into an intense kiss as Finn finally sets a comfortable pace of fucking himself down on Leo. Logan maneuvers himself so he is straddling Leo’s face and facing Finn.

Leo grabs Logan's hips to pull him down on his face, nipping lightly at his rim he smirks at the shiver he feels from Logan, hearing the smacking of kisses he knows they are desperately close already. Leo starts working Logan open with his tongue as he plants his heels on the bed and fucks up into Finn. The boys are moaning his name loud enough he bets the people in the room next to them are hearing everything. Leo is getting close and he knows Logan is barely holding on, plunging his middle finger and tongue into his smaller lover, hitting his prostate head on, he feels Logan clench around him as a wet heat is felt on his chest.

Logan Moans out Leo’s name and then Finn’s as he pulls the red head into a sloppy kiss as Leo keeps his rhythm with Finn, fucking him steady and deep. Finn changes the rhythm and starts moving faster, desperate for that release. Logan reaches between them and starts to jerk Finn off in time with his thrusts, after a few strokes he feels Finn spilling into his hand. Leo groans and bites down on Logan's left booty cheek as he muffles his moan when he releases into the condom he's wearing. Resting his head back on the pillow he feels logan crawl off him.

Finn pulled off him and collapsed onto Leo’s chest with an oof. Leo chuckles and runs his hands through Finn’s hair, mesmerized by the red flowing through hands. He just wanted to hold these boys close and relax, which he hasn’t done in a while. Kissing the top of Finn’s head he hears a cute whimper from the man on top of him. Hiding his laugh in his hair Leo looks up at Logan who wanders back into the room with a warm washcloth. He slaps Finn’s ass causing the man to jolt and glare at Logan.

“Excuse you, I was being snuggled by a hot cowboy who just fucked the life out of me.” Leo laughs as Finn rolls off him, Logan tries to hide his smile but fails as he wipes the other two down. Hopping on top of them and wiggling his way between them and smiles.

“Well I want to cuddle the hot cowboy who just ate my soul out of my ass.” Leo laughs again and shakes his head wrapping his arms around bothering them.

“Shh! I want to silently cuddle with two hockey players who I just had the most intense orgasm with!” They all laugh and fall into comfortable silence with comforting touches and caresses until they fall asleep.

When Finn and Logan woke up in the morning Leo was already dressed and writing his number on the notepad next to Logan’s phone. He turns to look back at the bed and smiles when he sees the boys both sleepily reach for him. He crawls on the bed still having not put on his boots yet and gives them both a sweet kiss goodbye.

“Text me or call me anytime you want to talk.” He whispers to them as he pushes some hair out of Logan's face and rests his forehead on Finn’s cheek. He crawls away shoving his boots on and walking out the door. Morning chores need to be done.

They all felt it when Leo left, cold.

[jawritter]

When The Lights Go Out

Part 1

Summary: Life hasn't been your best friend lately, you lost your job, and are on the verge of losing your apartment. Who knew when you decided to join a Sugar Daddy app that your best friend suggested ina last ditch effort to save your apartment, and not end up on the street, your first and only client would turn your whole world upside down.

Pairing: Mobster!Dean Winchester x Virgin! Reader

Word Count: 2358

Series Warnings: Mob level violence, injured Dean, description of injury, creepy Godfather John Winchester, John is pretty much a double bag, escort services, virgin reader, lose of virginity and all the insecurities and fun stuff that come with it, age gap (23 year old reader; 40 year old Dean), angst, unrequited/requited love?, language, smut, unprotected smut.

Chapter Warnings: None really, language, escort serives, angst? I think that’s it for this chapter!

A/N: Beta’d by @deanwanddamons! Thanks so much love!! Please don’t copy my work!! Feedback is golden! Hope you all enjoy this one!! It’s gonna be a little bit of a slow burn y’all, but just hang in there!

(This fic is based on this request: Could you do a Dean x reader where she is 23 and lives alone in her apartment, she gets fired and can loose her house, her friend tells her about a sugar daddy app, she makes a profile and Dean 40, contacts her, she is virgin and don't offers sex, Dean is billionaire business man and needs a girl for his business parties,the reader is really shy, blushes a lot, they fall in love, he takes her to a trip and makes love to her on a private island, could it be a series?)

Want more? Check out my masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

***SERIES MASTERLIST***

Adjusting your too short skirt, you look across the crowded street from your hiding place among the crowd of people standing on the side of the road waiting for their cab, or Uber to pick them up from whatever they had just left, or take them to wherever they intend to go. 

Heavy thunder rolled over head, and you looked up at the ominous black rolling clouds that from your street view made the skyscrapers look shorter than they really were.

Your heart was pounding so loud in your ears that it drowned out all the sounds of the hustle and bustle that was New York City on an average Friday night. Even though, in reality no one noticed you, you looked no different than about six other girls standing within a four foot proximity of you, you felt like every eye was on you. Like they were judging you, and knew just what you were doing, and just who you were waiting for.

Even though you weren’t meeting this man for sex, you felt like you were no better than the whores that line the streets of Brooklyn late at night, like cattle lined up for a sale barn to go to the highest bidder. 

Claire had suggested that you join the Sugar Daddy App in order to make a few extra bucks after losing your job as a junior accountant at JP Morgan. You hadn’t been there all that long, and when they changed management, your new female boss seemed threatened by all the females in the office, especially those like yourself, those that were young, those that had potential; so therefore you got the first axe. 

You didn’t really like the idea, but you were really left with no choice. Even though New York was a big city, it didn’t make jobs exactly easy to come by, and you need money before next Friday, or you would be living under one of the many bridges. 

It hadn’t taken long for Dean to respond to your add on the app as a paid escort, and the fact that you weren’t offering sex didn’t seem to bother him when he’d direct messaged you. He said he just needed you to attend a business party with him, a promotion for his brother, and if you did well, he might hire you permanently. 

Claire seemed to think that you had hit the jackpot, and told you to jump on the opportunity, but the amount of lucid information that he’d given you as far as what to wear, and that you were to just be on his arm to “look pretty”, you couldn’t help but feel you were dealing with the mob. 

You knew that was a silly notion.There was only one mob left in New York that had enough power behind them to even be threatening. Everyone else was nothing but grunts under them, and there was no way in Hell a Winchester would be using a Sugar Daddy App in order to find someone to take to a business party with him. 

Claire said not to worry about it, and that you were looking into things to much, that you had watched to many Scarface movies, and this was probably just a businessman who was in his forties, overweight, and lived in one of those box cublicial apartments on Manhattan with too much money, and not enough social life to bring someone to the event. 

You had your doubts.

The way he worded things, so secretive, so proper, it had you scratching your head from the moment you agreed to this job as to whether or not this was a good idea, or if you were going to be the next featured picture on the back of a milk carton as New York’s latest missing person. 

Just as you were about to say fuck it, and turn around and head back to your apartment, a sleek, black SUV pulled up to the curb and stopped. Looking around you notice that everyone that was standing next to you just a few moments ago had all but vanished, either getting into their own means of transportation, or giving up all together and deciding to hoof it. 

The window directly in front of you rolled down just enough for the baritone voice to filter out of the dark interior of the car. 

“Y/N?” he asked, and you stepped forward cautiously. If you weren’t regretting this before, you were now. 

“Yes?” you said, stopping just short of the curb. 

The driver’s side door opened, and the short driver made his way out of the car, and around the back passenger door that was facing the road. He opened  it for you to climb in as another round of thunder rolled, and thick raindrops started to pelt down all around you.

This was it, there was no going back now. 

Swallowing the little voice that was screaming how bad of an idea this was, you climb into the back of the car and the driver shuts your door before making his way around to regain his seat at the helm of the car. 

“Well, I must say you are attractive enough, but you look terrified sweetheart.” the same deep baritone voice said across the dark back seat next to you as the diver pulled out onto the street. 

Straightening up in your seat, you adjust yourself and try to look less like a scared child, and more like the paid escort you were for the night.

“Well, I’m sorry Dean, but as I told you earlier, the fact that you were so secretive concerning the details of our evening made me a little uneasy. Most clients tell you where they’re going to take you, and what you are going to be doing for the evening.”

Dean chuckled next to you, and adjusted his tie.Even though it was dark in the car, the street lights let you make out his strong jawline, and handsome profile enough to know this was not some overweight businessman. He was much more than that. 

“I think we got off on the wrong foot. My name is Dean Winchester, and I’m hiring you to escort me to my brother’s dinner party in celebration of his promotion in my father’s company.Judging by your slack jaw, you’ve heard my last name before, and you see why it wasn’t exactly a great idea for me to put my last name, nore the details of our arrangement in a direct message on some crude app.”

You set there in total dumb founded shock. 

Of all the people you thought were going to be picking you up tonight, Dean Winchester was not one of them. You had feared that this was a mafia pick up, but this was much worse. 

Dean wasn’t only Mafia,  he was son of the oldest, most lucrative gang in New York City’s history, his father, John, made Al Capone look like a little boy dressed in a suit. His family were ruthless, and virtually untouchable, protected by money, and  God only knows what else you couldn’t even begin to imagine. They didn’t hide what they were because they didn’t have to, and you were  more fucked than you thought you’d ever be. 

“My brother Sammy’s promotion details are not important. The only thing you need to know is that for the evening you are my girl, and you will do as I say. Talk as little as possible, and like I said, just look pretty. That won't be that hard for you. Stick close to me, but I promise you, this is continental ground, and no one can harm you in any way. So just relax and enjoy the party.”

Dean was completely unfazed by the fact that you still seemed to be in complete shock, like this was the reaction he was expecting from you. He knew that this was your first job? Why the hell did he hire you for something this big? If you weren’t already having a panic attack, you were pretty sure you were going to by the time you got to where you were going. 

“Dean, I...Look I don’t...I don’t know if this is such a good idea.What if they don’t buy that I’m your girlfriend, and furthermore why do YOU, of all people, need help getting a girlfriend?” you asked. Dean threw his head back against the seat of the car, his deep booming laugh echoing through the entire car. 

“Sweetheart, relax.You're perfect. I didn’t want someone with experience. Escorts in my line of work are, well, a commonly used expense, and I didn’t want someone that is recognizable to anyone that is going to be at this party tonight. I wanted this to be believable. As far as why I need you? Well that’s easy. I’m 40 years old, and unmarried, but I’m also my father’s successor to the company.The only problem is, the high table seems to think that I should have a wife by now, and I don’t, so you are here to keep my father and my elders off my back.” Dean said shortly as the car came to a stop in front of The Roosevelt Hotel.

Dean reached into a folder that was sitting on the seats between  you, pulling out a stack of papers that were stapled together, and handing them to you. You took them with what you knew had to be the most bewildered look on your face that anyone had ever had, but Dean seemed to be unfazed as the dome lights were switched on inside the car, and Dean handed you a pen. 

His large, freckle dusted hands, made everything they touched seem so small, and you wondered how many people those hands had killed before you buried it deep down inside of you, not letting the thought manifest. 

This man was dangerous, but you needed the money.

“This is a NDA.It says that you can not disclose your employment with me, nor anything else you will witness here tonight as long as you live. It’s virtually a gag order. It’s for your protection, not mine.” 

You nodded your head and swallowed hard, not daring to ask what the hell would happen to you if you broke said agreement, and signed the papers, knowing you had no choice. 

Looking up at the astonishing greens eyes staring back at you, you fought against the deep blush that pooled through your cheeks. Dean was handsome, and there was no denying that. 

“Okay, so, I know you said no sex, which quite honestly is a shame,” he said, looking you over in the small space, his perfect white teething pulling at his lower lip, making you blush even deeper than you already where, “but in order to make this convincing, there’s going to have to look like there is some degree of intamicy between us. In other words, I will hold your hand, touch you, tastefully of course, we're not animals, and I may even kiss you if need be, is that okay?” 

The thought of those pink, plump lips on yours made a shiver go all the way down your spine, and you had to look down for a moment to compose yourself. 

“Yes sir, that’s fine.” 

Dean chuckled as he opened his car door, getting out to open yours, his large, warm hand going to your lower back as he pulled you in close to him once you stepped out of the car. 

“Call me Dean, Baby Girl,” leaning down so that only you could hear him, his warm breath fanned over the skin of your neck, and goose bumps raised all over your skin, “or you can call me Daddy, I’m okay with that too.” 

You blushed furiously and covered your face with your hand, a deep embarrassment at the way your body seemed to be responding to this man standing next to you on the curb of the crowded street.  Another booming laugh escaped Dean as he pulled you into a hug. People were apparently watching that you were unaware of , because the act seemed to have already started. 

“I’m only teasing you sweetheart.I love to see you blush.Remember, impress me tonight, and this job is yours permanently, and I promise you, I will pay you so well, that you will never want for anything ever again.”

That was a promise you could get behind, so you straightened your skirt and took him in for the first time in the light of the foyer as you  walked together, your arm over his own in a formal manner suitable to the occasion. 

You hadn’t really looked at him until now, and man, he was a sight. 

Danger reeled off of him.From the ridiculous expensive, black, custom fitted Brioni suit, and crisp white Ralph Lauren shirt, to his only God knows how expensive black shoes. 

He was lethal, and he had no problem not hiding it. 

His piercing green eyes held an air of mischief that excited you in a way you’d never experienced before. Not a hair out of place, except for the almost auburn stubble that matched his perfectly placed hair sprinkled across his chiseled jaw, and a smirk that could melt the panties off of every woman in the room. 

He carried a presence about him that commanded attention, and you could tell by the faces of the people that were watching the two of you as you both checked in to the black tie event the hotel was hosting for the Winchester family, that he was the man that everyone loved to hate. 

This was the craziest thing you had ever done in your life, and it would probably one way or another end badly, you knew that, but his was the most alive you had felt in your life, and you were determined you were going to enjoy the moment on Dean’s arm, and worry about the rest later. 

Besides, what was life without a little adventure, and it was high time you had yours.

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[kpop-stan23-writes]

cowboy like me

group: the boyz member: q (ji changmin) genre: fluff word count: 1.9k warnings: implied sex, but only very very very; a couple swear words pairing: q x gn!reader

part of the playlist series

note: the lyrics are out of song-order, but i pieced them together based on how i thought it best fit the flow of the story. also, since i do quote the lyrics, it's obviously being sung from a woman's perspective, but it definitely doesn't have to apply to the story itself

hustling for the good life

as a child, you had nothing

but you saw the glittering, beautiful, luxurious things that were always so far out of reach

and you decided at a young age that you would someday achieve those glittering, beautiful, luxurious heights

you watched your mother turn tricks growing up, charming her lovers into extra cash or little gifts

you watched your father pick pockets and work as a con artist on the streets, betting unsuspecting passersby he could beat them at games of chance

it taught you how powerful words can be

and that is the only lesson you bother to take away from your childhood

you're a young adult now and since leaving home years before, you haven't looked back

perched in the dark/telling all the rich folks anything they wanna hear like it could be love/i could be the way forward only if they pay for it

with your good looks and silver tongue, you quickly find yourself charming the riches out of the rich

it doesn't matter who they are, what their occupation or reputation, young or old

you sit back and watch your potential lover from afar, figuring how much you can milk and planning the perfect approach

then you charm your way into their lives and eventually into their bank accounts

and with their eyes full of stars, they're none the wiser

your most recent love affair, though, a man who is finally ready to settle down, is getting to be too...much

so you slip out in the middle of the night, taking a few knickknacks and jewels along the way

it's time for you to move on

and the tennis court was covered up with some tent-like thing

it's a beautiful day in early autumn

the trees are various shades of red and your path to the country club is paved with golden leaves that crunch just slightly under your feet

you show your expensive creme-colored invitation to the tall man who guards the elite from the plebians and are waved inside without a second glance

the charity event is taking place on the country club's multiple tennis courts

despite the weakening sun's rays, the rich want to protect their lily-white skin by covering the courts with lily-white cloth tents

you wouldn't mind the sun, but as you've learned during your rise from the bottom, the elite will do anything to protect their fair skin

you float around the crowd, sharing smiles and greetings with the other guests

you eventually find yourself at the open bar, where of course the only drinks being served are fancy cocktails, expensive wines, and top-shelf liquors

as you're waiting for your fancy expensive top-shelf drink, you spot a new face in the crowd

he looks to be your age, and is absolutely beautiful

strong eyebrows, soft cheekbones, full lips, and the most captivating cat-like eyes you've ever seen

he smiles at you and then politely excuses himself from the woman giggling girlishly at something he must have said

the woman watches him as he walks away and when she sees where he is headed, her eyes narrow at you

you just raise your just-served drink with a quirk of your lip and the young man striding toward you chuckles

"would you like to dance?" he asks you as soon as he reaches you

a string quartet is playing on a small stage and there's an area clear of tall tables made for standing

a few couples dance already

but you just sip your drink and say "i don't know...dancing is a dangerous game"

"doesn't make it any less fun, though, does it?"

you can't help but smile at his response and against your better judgement, you accept his hand

oh, i thought/this is gonna be one of those things

it's quiet once you reach the small dance floor

just the gentle string music and quiet hum of conversation

"i'm changmin, by the way. ji changmin."

you glance at him through your eyelashes and after a beat, you introduce yourself

he smiles once more and silence settles over you two again

you part once the quartet changes pieces

the rich flock to you and changmin, regardless of age or marital status

each of your attentions are occupied for the rest of the evening

but glances are spared throughout the night

the shared glances grow longer and heavier until you finally find yourself in a fancy hotel room without feeling like you need a shower first thing in the morning

you disappear before dawn, allowing yourself one brief moment to venerate changmin's lithe naked back which still bare evidence of your rather enjoyable evening together

you think that's that

i've got some tricks up my sleeve

your steps are as light as the pre-dawn autumn air

a small smile graces your lips and you admire the little trinket you slipped out of the hotel room: a tiger's eye-tipped tie pin

but as you're holding it up to watch the early-morning sunrays sparkle off the warm brown gem, you realize something

you're missing your silver pinky ring

you had some tricks up your sleeve

it's the only piece of your childhood you carry into adulthood and perhaps the only real item you've assigned sentimental value

you turn on your heel and march back toward the hotel entrance, intent on sneaking back into the hotel room to find that damn ring

but you hear someone call your name from above you

you look up and see changmin leaning out from a window, still bare-chested

something small is pinched between his fingers

you can't tell what it is from the ground

but the knowing smirk on his lips tells you all you need to know

takes one to know one

you consider turning your back to him

but that ring means a stupid amount to you

so you straighten your shoulders, hold you head high, and stride purposefully into the hotel lobby

because no way are you going to back down from someone like ji changmin

yo expect him to make you knock on the door, make you wait for him to answer

but the door is already propped open by the time you reach the room and you step inside to find him sitting on the couch in the in-suite living room (this time with a shirt), your small silver ring resting on the coffee table

you slowly sink into the chair across from him and silently place his tie pin on the table beside your ring

it's silent for a moment, you and changmin simply observing each other

"aren't you full of surprises" you finally say with a small quirk of your lips

changmin chuckles and pushes your ring toward you and you do the same with his pin

you each take your returned items and for a moment simply stare at them in your hands

you're uncertain what to do, and so is changmin

because this has never happened to either of you before

a con artist trying to pull one over another con artist

you glance up and catch his eye and you both can't help but laugh a little

because how ridiculous!

the silence returns and so does the uncertainty

changmin finally looks at the expansive, flashy watch on his wrist

you expect him to make some excuse about running late for some bullshit appointment

but instead he says "it's early. would you like to eat breakfast with me?"

much like the evening before, you find yourself nodding against your better judgement

you're a cowboy like me/never wanted love just a fancy car

and thus starts the most unexpected love affair of your life

because who knew ji changmin would turn out to be just like you

a suave, silver-tongued tempest who lives lover to lover, acquiring a small fortune in the process

he grew up poor, like you

he grew up resenting what his parents had to resort to in order to put food on the table, like you

he grew up deciding fancy things would be worth more than love in the long run

just like you

you laugh over that first shared breakfast about all the similarities you seem to share

all the similarities that led you to that moment

in that hotel room

with a fellow con artist

sharing a past you thought would stay firmly behind you

now i'm waiting by the phone like i'm waiting in an airport bar

you find yourself falling into a pattern with changmin

a pattern you've never had before

a pattern you never expected

it's new and exciting but also kinda scary because you never thought you'd feel this way about another person

more and more you find your evenings carrying over into the next morning

and then those next mornings turning into the next day

and then those next days melting into the next evening

soon, it's rarer to be without changmin than to be with him

and you hate that you find yourself wishing he was with you

because the L word was never supposed to be part of your vocabulary

of course what you don't realize is that changmin is feeling just as unexpectedly enamored by you

you're a bandit like me/eyes full of stars

you wake up one morning a tangle of limbs, changmin wrapped around you warmer than any of the numerous fur coats in your closet

his face is tucked into the crook of your neck and with each warm breath that ghosts across your skin, you feel your heart melt just a little more

there's a small mirror on the beside table and you happen to catch your reflection

the stars that you had always seen in your target's lover's eyes now fill your own

you bite your lip uncertainly because is this what love looks like?

you feel changmin's arm tighten around your waist as he begins to wake and you turn in his arms to face him

his eyes open slowly and when his gaze settles on you, a soft smile pulls at his lips and you feel his thumb stroke your lower back

"good morning" he says sleepily, his eyelids already dropping shut again

but you catch something in his dark eyes before they close that makes your heart skip a beat

because the stars you had seen in your reflection

you see the same stars in changmin's eyes

those stars in both your eyes remain

and you begin to grow used to them

you begin to grow to love them

we could be the way forward and i know i'll pay for it

you're waiting for the moment for it all to explode in your face

you're dreading that moment

you steel yourself for that inevitable ka-boom

you prepare yourself for life after changmin

in your weaker moments, you wonder if it was worth it

if loving changmin is worth what you know will be the greatest loss you have ever suffered

but you just have to take one look at his beautiful smile and those thoughts melt away

because no matter what happens, it will have been worth it

loving changmin will always be worth it

with your boots beneath my bed, forever is the sweetest con

but it never comes

and you find yourself relieved

because could you really have any sort of relationship after changmin, fake or not?

you don't think you ever want to find out

spoiler alert: you never have to

and i'm never gonna love again

note: i didn't even get to use some my favorite lyrics from the song ☹️ but i just couldn't find a way to fit into the flow of the story 😭 maybe i'll post another part that contains those lyrics?

[cloud9in]

The Half of It

A Mc x Poppy fic inspired by the film 

Summary: Bea, the town’s outcast is recruited by the school jock to win Poppy’s heart. But what happens when she starts falling for her as well?

Author’s Note: So this will be a multiple part series that includes scenes heavily inspired from the movie “The Half of It”. I certainly recommend watching it. My version will have different twists and a different ending, and definitely more angst. It will include mature themes as the story progresses.

Warnings for this chapter: Swearing. This is a good thing for now.

Chapter 1- 

“Love is simply the name for desire and pursuit of the whole.”

                                                   - Plato, The Symposium

It is said that when one half finds its other, there’s an unspoken understanding. A unity. And each would know no greater joy....than this. 

 ...Except this is highschool. And in my opinion, there is no other half. Maybe the other half is a paper on Greek God philosophy due at midnight. But make that four papers, including mine. 

 My name is Bea Hughes and let’s just say...this is not a very happy story. Well maybe some parts are, but you’ll have to read to find out. I come from a small town called Farmsville, and when I mean small, I mean really small. Except the highschool seems fucking huge, with never ending hallways and when you do somehow find the end, there’s usually two inbreds eating each others mouths off. Lucky for me I am the epitome of antisocial, reserved, an introvert, or whatever the inferior beings, aka every other senior, calls me when they think I can’t hear. But I hear everything, including that one time Bradley Denbrough, upcoming hotshot actor, or so he claims, found out about a crush a poor unsuspecting freshman had on him. Everybody knew what Bradley and his goons did to that boy, even the adults, but no charges were pressed. This town is as conservative as it gets, but no one knows of my secret. I carry this school on my back when it comes to having everyone graduate, but that’s all I am to them, a pawn. And that’s all I wanted to be, nothing more and nothing less. I preferred to be in the shadows. 

 ***

 ...Except the mandatory Senior Talent Show forced Bea out of her hibernation hole. The thought haunted her as she sat in the dance studio, the last fucking place she wanted to be. Dance was so not a Bea kinda thing, but the blonde knew exactly why she granted herself the misery of picking the class. Poppy Min Sinclair, the golden girl of Farmsville High, the preacher’s daughter on a more serious note. She is...the most fascinating girl Bea ever laid her eyes on even if her boyfriend was a complete asshole who sermonized his duties as her future husband. Like seriously? Poppy has got to have some screws loose to date such a fake loser who plagiarizes all of his speeches at sunday church, and once literally begged Bea to write an apology letter to his father for him after completely upending their summer cabin. Except the blonde wrote the opposite of an apology, it went something like this…

 Dear beloved donkey, I mean dad,

 I am terribly sorry for inviting 20 hookers to the summer cabin. I have these strange impulses and you should at least be grateful I didn’t invite the big boss as well. His wife came though, in many, many ways. You should get the carpet changed. 

 Sincerely, your STD free son

 It was safe to say that Mr. Denbrough had a near heart attack after reading it, and Bea did kinda feel bad, kinda. He never mentioned the letter to Bradley though, instead silently calling up the owner of Teopoli Catholic Summer Camp and essentially deporting the boy to Canada for the summer. No son of his would end up in hell was what the old man preached everyday from then on. It was the quietest summer Bea had ever experienced. 

 Being the towns outcast, Bea could have her fun when she so chooses to, but that didn’t pay the bills. In fact, the multiple essays that people paid her to write was her way of surviving and taking care of her mother. They weren’t very rich but Bea worked with what she had, helping her mother manage the farm, which included getting on her knees and wrestling the pigs. And that’s how she was gifted the name “pig girl”, stupid Bradley and his fake friends just had to wander too far and catch Bea in the act. She swore a remixed video of her hog calling surfaced the web at one point and that gave the blonde her five minutes of fame. Boy was it an awful time in her life. 

 Bea worked her mother’s previous job as station master or signalman for the trains that passed through, even if it barely paid her shit. The secluded feeling of sitting in that booth and having a moment with her thoughts was enough to give her purpose. Bea was fond of poetry and it usually helped her come up with song lyrics.

 Song lyrics…

 That she would have to sing at the talent show. A huge sigh escaped her lips as she slumped further into the ground, maybe hoping she could bury herself six feet under. It wasn’t that Bea hated singing, no she absolutely loved it. Playing her guitar at night and belting out lyrics that only resulted in her mother banging on the ceiling below in efforts to shut the blonde up. But the mere fact that she’d have to sing in front of the ruthless seniors rubbed her the wrong way. Something would go wrong, it always did. Bea was shaken out of her thoughts when Poppy crossed the center of the room, moving her hips slowly to the sound of Rihanna’s voice. The class chose a slow r&b song to choreograph today and of course all eyes were on Poppy.

 If i’m your girl say my name boy

let me know i'm in control

 Her silky blonde locks swayed as she danced to the beat, hands thrusting sensually along her sides. Bea stared in awe, almost like Poppy was the only one in the room and a spotlight illuminated every movement, every curve. Except she definitely wasn’t the only one picturing Poppy in that way. Carter, the school quarterback leaned against the railing, arms crossed and eyes trailing the rise and fall of her chest. 

 Got me wondering, I’m wondering if i'm on your mind

 Bea sat up straighter but nearly lost her bodily functions when Poppy locked eyes with her before spinning away. It was simple eye contact Bea, don’t let it get to your head. You already have multiple lyrics inspired by Poppy offering the bare minimum in human interaction. She doesn’t actually like you. Poppy is popular and has the perfect life...and boyfriend, even if Bea heavily disagrees. Poppy was a bitch of course, but not a bitch bitch. Unlike the other wannabe mean girls, the blonde didn’t give Bea hell, well that was because the girl paid her zero attention. She seemed distant, off in her own world, or well in her parents world learning the strategies of business. Poppy was expected to follow in her parents footsteps and keep up with her reputation of being the richest in town, and of course a faithful future wife. So fun. But the blonde had other prosperous dreams of travelling and following her passion of music and dance. Highschool was her only outlet and she took advantage of it any chance she’d get. Bea knew this because she would ride her bike every friday night to the school and watch Poppy dance from outside the glass window. Maybe Bea realized it was kinda creepy, but she’s dumb enough to not realize her obvious growing attraction. I mean who pedals miles just to watch someone trip on their feet? 

 ***

 The sound of the bell caught everyone's attention and the teacher slowly lowered the music. Bea watched as Bradley approached Poppy and smothered her with kisses and praises. She rolled her eyes painfully, this kind of PDA definitely wasn’t it, she could have gone her whole life without seeing that. She walked silently through the crowd of kids in the hall, everyone was laughing and talking to their friends. All Bea could allow her mind to focus on was the very intimidating billboard of names a few feet across from her. 

 Winter Talent Show Sign-Ups (Mandatory For Seniors)

 Bea glared at it quietly before signing her name on the sheet, sealing her inevitable fate. Through the hustle of students, Carter watched the blonde with a yearning look from afar. This should be great…

 The next few classes were a blur and Bea eventually found herself getting up to hand Ms. Kingsley her paper. The older woman looked at her with a knowing glance as she took a generous sip of her coffee, which was 75% tequila.

 “6 different interpretations on Plato? Colour me impressed Miss Hughes.” 

 Bea shrugs nonchalant, “yeah well would you rather read their actual essays?”

 “Oh hell no.” Kingsley feigns shock as she looks at the stack of papers with a comical expression. She takes another sip, watching her younger, prodigy of a student carefully. “You know there are places outside of this godforsaken town where you can put your talents to use... Real use. I teach at Belvoire University occasionally.” Ina winks and slides Bea an application, studying her initial reaction. “It’s...in New York.”

“Damn right! The Big Apple.”

 “Kingsley you know I have to stay here. It’ll be easier for me to manage the farm and be close to home”, Bea says confidently even though her body language displays otherwise. She predicted the big sigh filling her ears before it actually happened and it still managed to faze her. “Who ever said you had to do anything? What about what you want to do?” Bea doesn’t make eye contact with Ina, that woman could convince you to do just about anything with a certain look. “No we are not doing this. You can take your reverse psychology and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine. I’m outta here.” The blonde stomps out of the classroom, the sound of Ina’s chuckles still ringing in her ears.

 “Hey! Everyone in this town fears God, but you know what God fears? My ability to hide a bottle of Don Julio in my left boot.” Ina pulls out the newly bought bottle and cradles it. “Come to mama.”

 ***

 Bea rode her bike alongside the dirt road, Kingsley’s words on replay the entire ride. Maybe she did deserve to experience something more than what this town had to offer. But would her mother manage without her? Sacrifices, sacrifices. Bea was used to making those for her mother after her father’s death. What would her dad think of all of this?

 “Hey!”

 He’d surely smack Bea upside the head for the little antics she pulled occasionally. And then he’d buy her vanilla coconut ice cream and ask for every single detail of what happened as they sat and laughed together. That’s the kind of relationship Bea would have had with her father, she liked to assume so. She also liked to assume that she’d get home safely everyday without a scratch, but then there’s Carter.

 “Hey wait up!” 

 The jock seemed to be running ridiculously fast and crashed right into the rear end of Bea’s bicycle, sending her face first into a mount of dirt. The initial impact was enough to boost the blonde straight back up like nothing happened and into a fighting stance, fists out and eyes wild. Very scary Bea. When she realized it was him...well it only pissed her off even more. “What the fuck Carter! You asshole!”

 “I’m sorry Bea! Here let me help-”

 “No! Move away! You- my bike- I…” Bea groans frustratingly, stepping away from the wreck as she tries to catch her breath. Carter watches her sheepishly, rubbing an envelope between his fingers awkwardly. After a few minutes of painfully uneasy silence he speaks up, “Okay...I didn’t want to ask you this way but I was wonder-”

“Oh, so you practically break my ass and now you want me to do you a favour? Real nice way of communication you have there Mr. Quarterback. What is with you and those freakishly large muscles anyways? Maybe it’s my fault I didn’t hear your avalanche built ass coming from behind.”

 “Hey! They are not freakishly large!”

 “I hate to break it to you Jackson but mine are significantly more appealing to look at.” Bea smirks widely, flexing her arm as best as she could. It’s a work in progress… just bare with her.

 It didn’t take much effort for Carter to break out into a smile and look at her fondly. Maybe there was more to this girl than just being a human dictionary. Well that’s what people called her, and he maybe believed it at first.

 Bea noticed the lack of response and shifted awkwardly, clearing her throat. “Listen, its $10 for three pages, $20 for three to ten, I'm not in the over-ten-page biz.”

 “No..no I’m not here to cheat!” Carter blurts out. “But I’ll let you know if I do plan on- anyways. I uh..” He hesitates before handing her the envelope. “What’s this?

 “Well you see it’s a letter..”

 “Yeah but who writes letters these days?”

 “I thought it seemed romantic..”

 “And I thought women writing Jeffrey Dahmer letters in jail seemed romantic”, Bea says sarcastically, her smile dropping instantly after catching a glimpse of Poppy’s name at the top of the paper. It was like the blood stopped flowing through her body for a few seconds as her mouth went dry. This had to be the work of the so-called God everyone praised in this town, or it was one cruel coincidence. Bea wasn’t sure why seeing her name made her heart beat ten times harder, but it also wasn’t a necessarily uncomfortable feeling…

 “I- I can’t help you.”

 “But if you just add a few more words-”

 “I’m not writing a letter to Poppy Min Sincla- to..to some girl for you. Letters are supposed to be authentic, from the heart, your own words, your...feelings.” Bea hurriedly turns to grab her bike, suddenly losing all interest in being social. 

 Carter was afraid this would happen. But he was stubborn. “But I can pay more for authentic!” 

 Too bad Bea was stubborn as well. “Just get a thesaurus...Good luck, Romeo.”

***

 Bea sat in her room, strumming away softly at the strings of her guitar. Some of the keys were off but the old thing still worked, and that was good enough for her. She could hear the tv blasting downstairs, her mother most likely watching the news. There’s something about old people and news, were they secretly ogling the news anchors? Just like Bea ogled Poppy any chance she could. The blonde frowned to herself, her eyebrows crunching together in question. What so hard about writing a letter to Poppy? It’s not like it's coming from her. Well it technically is, but Carter is taking the credit and Bea never had a problem with people taking credit for her words. So why did this very thought prove to be such an inconvenience? Lucky for Bea, her mind drifted elsewhere when she heard a painful snap. Even if it wasn’t physically connected to her body, she felt a horrible ache. Slowly peering down at the guitar in her hand, Bea found that the neck of the guitar had miraculously split almost clean off, a splinter of wood just holding it intact. She wanted to scream but nothing really came out, except air of course. Much to her disapproval, this was definitely a result of her strength. Stupid muscles couldn’t contain themselves at the thought of Carter being with Poppy. Now how could that be? 

 But now she had no guitar. And no guitar means no strings to strum, and no lyrics to sing, and no talent to show at the talent show. Now she was in trouble. Probably because she knew that the only way to get the money to replace the guitar would be through sealing the deal with Carter. Oh fuck it!

 ***

 “One letter. And enough money to buy a new guitar.”

 “Deal!”

 Bea turns away with a sigh, completely ignoring Carter’s high five. Now all she had to do was write this letter, and pray that Poppy wouldn’t completely consume every fiber of her being in the process.

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

End note: So how we feelin’? Carter and Bea Brotp??

Tags: @samanthadalton @somewillwin @clowneryme @baexpoppy @zigxryanz @uselesslesbianfr @aleiramacaii @thedaft1 @alexlabhont @iamsimpforpoppy

[yellowsuitcase]

The Unwanted Pet // Draco Malfoy

A/N: Hello! This was a request from one of my friends, I thought it was such a cute idea and I knew it wouldn’t take more than a couple hours so I wrote it! I find it adorable and I hope you do too!

Summary: Y/N wants a crup (a jack russell like creature) but Draco most certainly does not. What happens when Y/N gets one anyway?

Warning(s): None

Word Count: 2.7k

“But Draco, it’d be so cute!” Y/N pleaded with her husband. She was leaning on his back while he tied a letter to his owl to send to his coworker at St. Mungos.

A soft wind blew through their open window, bringing the sweet smell of daisies with it. One of Y/N’s favorite things about living in the countryside was the variety of flowers surrounding their home, which was by no means a modest one. Draco would’ve felt too out of place if they had purchased a small abode, so Y/N caved and allowed him to buy a big Irish style house surrounded by thick greenery and rolling oak tree forests. However, Y/N had grown to love the rather big dwelling. But she’d felt a bit lonely whenever Draco would go to work in the early morning, leaving her alone until he returned at nearly midnight.

She had her own job working on the Hogwarts Express, but that only required her to leave the house a few days out of the year. Even though there wasn’t a need for her to work since Draco had inherited all the Malfoy fortune when his father passed a year ago, Y/N found comfort in driving the train full of young and eager students to and from Hogwarts. It reminded her of her days at the school; it was where she had met Draco, the man she’s been married to for seven years.

“Love, they’re high maintenance and a big responsibility. I don’t know if it’s a good idea,” Draco replied as he sent off his owl, Biko, and turned around to embrace his pouting wife. He kissed her on the head and gently swayed her back and forth before removing himself from her embrace. He then sauntered to the kitchen to nibble on some jelly slugs; he had quite a sweet tooth.

“But Draco, they’re so cute,” Y/N whined. Draco shrugged. “So what? If you want a pet so badly, go find a toad in one of the ponds...On second thought, don’t. Slimy little creatures they are.” Y/N rolled her eyes as she pushed back a long green curtain to allow more sunlight to stream into the cozy living room. “I don’t want a toad, I want a crup, and I don’t see why we can’t have one.”

Draco shook his head and wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin. “I’ve already told you, they’re messy, you’d have to get a license from the ministry, and they’re high maintenance.” He began gathering his coat and satchel. He had to be at St. Mungos in nearly half an hour. Y/N sighed as she watched him slip on his shoes. She sunk further into their brown leather couch, which once belonged to Y/N’s mother. Draco gave her a pitiful glance. “I’m sorry, my beautiful wife, but I do not wish to have a mangy mutt running around our home. Perhaps something a bit more manageable? How about an owl? I’m sure Biko would love a friend,” Draco said while gesturing to the window his owl had flown out of just minutes ago. Y/N sighed and nodded, “Yeah, perhaps I’ll take a trip to Diagon Alley and see what kinds of owls they’ve got. Would you fancy a barn owl? They’ve got quite a striking face.”

Draco walked over to her and pressed a sweet kiss to her lips. “Any owl you want, I’m fine with. I’ll see you tonight; maybe we can have dinner outside, it’ll be perfect picnic weather.”

Y/N smiled softly and watched him stumble into their brick fireplace and throw floo powder down, disappearing in the green flames it created. Once Y/N was sure he had gone, she sprang to her feet and ran for the closet where her shoes were located. She grabbed the first pair she saw and promptly shoved them onto her feet. Little did Draco know, Y/N had already obtained a license from the ministry and was fully certified to own a crup.

She stepped into the fireplace and dropped her floo powder while saying, “The Ministry of Magic Headquarters!” and in a flash, she appeared in the massive dome-shaped lobby of The Ministry building. The hustle and bustle of employees finding their way to elevators and offices intimidated her initially. Nevertheless, after a few moments, she gathered her composure and began walking towards the Department of Magical Creatures. She’d already sent an owl to the Beast Division and made arrangements to pick up her new pet, so all she had to do was get there. And she did; after many twists and turns and pauses to stare at the fancy plaques on the walls, Y/N found herself outside the door. She wasn’t sure whether or not she was supposed to knock, so she put her tentative hand on the knob and turned it slowly.

It opened to reveal a nice looking woman sitting at the chestnut-colored desk. A fairy was fluttering around her head and putting flowers into her hair. She looked up upon hearing Y/N enter. “Hello! Would you happen to be the person who requested a crup?” she asked. Y/N shifted from her left foot to her right foot, trying to expel the excitement jitters from her body. “Yes, that’s me.”

“Wonderful! Y/N Malfoy, yes?” the woman asked. Y/N nodded, and the woman wrote something down on a piece of parchment. “They brought him in an hour ago, so he should be fed and ready to go! And his tail has already been removed as he is seven weeks old. I’ll check in the back and see if he’s all set. You just wait here, alright?” the lady asked.

Y/N grinned and nodded eagerly. She was a bit sad that her crup’s tail had already been removed, it had to be so that muggles wouldn’t notice it was a magical creature, but it still saddened her. Soon enough, however, she heard scampering behind the door. Her heart leaped in her chest, and she fiddled with her fingers anticipatedly. She held her breath as the golden door swung open. Behind it was the woman and a little crup in her arms as well as a carrier by her feet. Y/N’s hands flew to her mouth as she gasped. “He’s so cute,” she whispered. The crup seemed to notice her and suddenly jumped from the lady’s arms and onto the floor where he raced towards Y/N. She looked down at the dog-looking creature. He was staring straight up at her, and when they made eye contact, he barked.

The lady laughed. “Look at that. He already likes you!” Y/N smiled and hesitantly knelt down to greet the fluffy beast in front of her. “Hello there, would you like to come home with me?” she asked. The crup barked happily, his little butt wiggling as he did so. Y/N giggled and opened her arms for the crup. He ran into them and nestled himself against her chest. Y/N stood back up and gently stroked her new pet. “Do you have a name for him yet?” the woman asked. Y/N nodded her head and glanced up to look at the lady. “I’ve decided on calling him Styx,” she said.

“How cute! Well, I don’t want to waste any of your precious time with Styx, so let’s have you pay so you can be on your way.” Y/N reached into her pocket, pulled out two hundred galleons, and placed them on the woman’s desk. After doing so, she put Styx in his new carrier and zipped him up so he’d be safe and secure. Waving goodbye to the nice lady, she reopened the door and took a deep breath. The easy part was over, now she had to face Draco.

---------

Y/N and Styx had spent the entire day playing with all the new toys she’d bought for him at Diagon Alley. He particularly liked the bright purple rubber ball, as well as his squeaky spider plush. It was nearly ten pm now, and Y/N and her pet were sitting on the couch. Styx was chewing on his bone as Y/N read the Daily Prophet. She was scanning an article about Hogwarts’ new Herbology professor, Neville Longbottom, when green flames erupted from the fireplace. Styx immediately jumped to his paws and began growling at the fire. And suddenly, there was Draco. He was smiling until he heard the low rumble coming from the crup. He glanced down at it and then up at Y/N.

“Tell me that this mutt doesn’t belong to you,” he said sternly. Y/N smiled; it looked more like a grimace. Draco ran his hand down his face in disappointment. “I thought we discussed this. I don’t want a Crup,” he whined, the exhaustion from his workday coming to the forefront. Y/N stood up and walked towards her distraught husband.

“I know you said you didn’t want one, but I’m just so lonely when you’re not here all day. I’ve got no one to talk to and nobody to snuggle with. I just thought having this little guy would give me something to do as well as provide company,” she said quietly, now feeling a bit foolish.

Draco examined her expression intently. She looked remorseful and ashamed; she couldn’t meet his eyes. He sighed and shifted his gaze to the little creature by his feet. Not even Draco could deny the mutt’s inherent cuteness. He looked back up at his wife. “Fine,” he caved, “We can keep him. But I swear if he causes any trouble, he’s going back. I will not tolerate any misbehaving.” Y/N gasped and wrapped her arms around Draco’s neck.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! You won’t regret it, he’ll be the sweetest boy ever. I bet you’ll even grow to like him,” she argued, arms still around him. Draco huffed. “Yeah, right, I don’t think so,” he retorted. He was convinced he’d never learn to genuinely like the crup. Sure he’d probably be able to tolerate him but never enjoy having him around.

“Are you sure? You’re already acting like a dad with all your ‘I will not tolerate misbehaving’ nonsense,” Y/N remarked. Draco rolled his eyes. “I’m serious. If he chews my shoes, he’s out.” Y/N withdrew her arms and crossed them on her puffed up chest. “You’re on, Malfoy.”

--------

Over the next few months, Styx had become a constant within the Malfoy home. It took Draco a little over two weeks to allow him to sleep with him and his wife on their bed, but when he finally caved, he instantly regretted it. More often than not, Y/N slept with her arms around the Cruppy instead of around Draco. The blonde man would always get angry and shoot death glares at the creature while his lover slept. How dare the mutt take his place in her arms?

However, what Draco was unaware of was the fact that sometimes during the night, Styx would wiggle out of Y/N’s arms and settle himself in the crook of Draco’s neck where he’d give him a few soft licks before falling back asleep. And since Y/N would often rouse in the middle of the night, needing to use the restroom, she’d be greeted with the endearing sight of her husband cuddling with Styx. She’d never tell him, but she had quite a few photographs of the scene.

Styx was generally a well-behaved pet. He didn’t chew Draco’s shoes like the man had feared, but he did, however, eat their food when they weren’t looking. This infuriated Draco to no end. Y/N, on the other hand, found it rather funny. She knew that underneath all his fury, Draco found it amusing as well. She was sure of this because one afternoon, when Draco had the day off from work, she’d gone to fetch a book to read to her husband and pet. When she returned, she found Draco smiling down at the crup. She stopped in her tracks and hid behind a wall to listen in on the conversation.

“Look at you, you little scoundrel, stealing my roast beef. You think you’re clever, don’t you?” Draco asked the dog-like creature. Styx barked in reply, making him chuckle. “No, no. I’m afraid you’re nothing compared to me, Styx. You see, I was in Slytherin.” Styx barked again. “Mhm, I was, and you were not so truly who’s the more cunning of the two of us? I think it’s quite obvious.” Styx barked again and pawed Draco’s calf. “Exactly right, my boy, it’s me. Although you’re definitely the cuter one, I’ll give you that.” Y/N watched this exchange from her hiding place. She knew Draco was rather fond of talking to himself, but it seemed as though he enjoyed talking to Styx as well.

Now, Y/N was writing a letter to her sister in the study when she heard a knock at the door. She put down her quill and turned in her chair. “Come in,” she spoke softly. The door opened, and there stood Draco. “You got off of work this early?” she asked. Draco grinned sheepishly. “I may have asked to leave early,” he said while leaning on the doorframe. Y/N was immediately suspicious of her husband. She kicked her leg up and over her thigh and crossed her arms. “May I ask why?” she inquired. Draco shrugged and reached into his back pocket.

“Oh well, it’s only because there’s a quidditch match tonight, and I got us two front row tickets,” he said as he pulled out the two slips of silver-lined paper. Y/N gasped and clapped her hands excitedly. “Draco! That’s brilliant. It’s been so long since we’ve gone to see a game. What teams are playing?” she asked as she rose to her feet. “I have to go find an outfit that matches the colors!” she shouted happily.

Draco laughed at his wife’s eagerness. “Wimbourne Wasps and Chudley Cannons are the teams. And you can go plan your outfit in a moment; I just wanted to let you know that I’m going to take Styx for a walk before I take you Hogsmeade for lunch.”

His words stopped her in her tracks. She looked up at Draco skeptically. “You’re taking Styx for a walk?” He nodded. “Willingly?” she asked. Draco nodded again. Y/N’s mouth fell open in shock. Her husband’s face turned red. “You’ve taken a liking to him, haven’t you?” Y/N asked incredulously. Draco rubbed his hand on the back of his neck and looked at the window. He noticed the parchment on the desk. “Who are you writing to?” he questioned, trying to change the subject. Y/N moved into his line of vision, forcing him to look at her. “Nuh-uh Mr. Malfoy. You’re not getting out of this one. Answer my question, and perhaps I’ll answer yours.”

Draco muttered something under his breath. “Didn’t catch that; speak up.” Draco sighed and covered his face. “Yes,” he mumbled. “I like the mutt.” Y/N squealed and threw her arms around Draco’s torso and squeezed him tightly. He was surprised by this and looked down at his wife quizzically.

“I knew you’d come around! I told you getting a crup would be a wonderful idea, and now look at you. You’re taking him for a walk willingly,” she declared. Just then, Styx himself came strutting down the hallway, his butt wiggling. He sat by Draco’s foot and barked up at him, almost as if he was asking what was taking so long. Draco smiled down at him. “Yes, I know it’s just that your mother and I were having a discussion,” he said to the fluffy creature. Styx barked once more. “I know, right? How rude of her to delay your walk,” he replied in an exasperated tone. Y/N couldn’t fight the smile that crept onto her face.

“Oh, so now you’re talking poorly about me to my son?” she asked. Draco looked up and smirked at her. “I am,” he said firmly. “Come along now, Mr. Wiggles, let’s find your leash.” Y/N was in disbelief as she watched her lover walk down the hallway with Styx in tow. She shook her head and chuckled lightly. “Unbelievable, those two,” she mumbled to herself before retreating into the study.

[mustyrosewater]

𝒉𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒔

𝒐𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 : 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒆𝒕 𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒖𝒏𝒔𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒔𝒇𝒊𝒆𝒅, 𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆.

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 : 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕, 𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈.

𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 : 𝑹 18+

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 : 6,159

if somebody were to say that a brothel was only a place for people to submit to their desires and fuck pretty girls, they would only be half right. in westeros, brothels were so much more than that. if the walls could talk, they would be spinning tales for all to hear, whispering secrets that not even kings could tell with confidence, secrets that some would rather keep secret than out in the open for all to see. secrets that people would be willing to hand over countless riches in order to be kept within the walls. brothels held the darkest truths, truths that could bring a man to his knee’s if one would so desire. dorne was arguably the most perfect place that one could own such an establishment, a popular trading hub among westeros, men traveled in and out of its waters everyday, men who had been all across westeros, who met with many notable figures, and thus, also carried many secrets. in the comfort of a woman’s arms, a man could let anything slip out, in the comfort of a woman’s arms they felt safe. little did they know that the presence of a whore was just as dangerous as having a sword held to their throats, perhaps even more so. when drunk on dornish wine, they were even more likely to allow their secrets to be spilled and let their hidden truths unfold, all into the ears of the woman who held them. you had learnt from a very young age, that to traverse anywhere in this world, secrets were more precious than gold, more powerful than the tallest castles walls, and more dangerous than a dragon. by the time of your thirteenth name day, you had already stacked up a deadly armada of secrets, through listening to men talk or forgotten letters making their way into your possession. by the age of seventeen, you’d brought men to their knees with these secrets. making friends with the whores that they would forget about within minutes, doing them favors in exchange for the secrets they held. it was not surprising how many men were willing to pay a hefty price to keep their hidden ‘habits’ from making their way into the light. saving the riches that they would give you, you soon had lords and ladies from all over westeros sending you shares of their wealth in exchange for keeping their secrets. all under a carefully disguised alias, they had never discovered who you truly were, and they never would so long as you wanted to. it had taken several years of your life, but eventually, you had come into possession of your own brothel. you had not an exact memory as you how it ended up in your care, perhaps a particularly friendly lord’s version of payment or left to you by a previous owner. how it came into your possession was a memory you held little care for. the girls, your girls, your little doves, they were the only thing in this cruel world you held any true care towards. your little doves were the ones who collected your secrets now, in exchange for the secrets they would give you, you gave them protection, a home, warm meals and anything else they may want to ask for. though that was not usually a large tax for you, most you had recruited from the street, others would hear of you themselves and come to you from broken homes. they were never forced into their profession, never deceived; so many men had attempted to deceive you so many times throughout your life, you would be a fool to repeat their behavior yourself. their duties were made clear to them, you explained the things that they may have to do, but always reassured them that if this was not what they wanted, they would be free to leave, but would not receive anything from you. nobody had ever been successful in this world by giving away their services for free, thus you would not give your charity to those who did not work for it. that was what you taught your girls, their hard work was the reason they had a place to sleep and a belly full of food. you had not had the luxury of being born into nobility, made obvious by the word sand at the end of your name rather than that of any noble house throughout westeros, you were a bastard, you gained nothing in pretending that you weren’t. the knowledge of your parents was virtually unknown to you, you knew nothing of your father and very little of your mother. all you knew was that she was the source of your dornish heritage and a prostitute. you were born in a brothel, it was where you grew up and where you learnt your first ever secret, one you held closely to this day, one that you would never tell, after all, it would no longer be a secret then. knowledge of your establishment and its reputation grew quickly, receiving high praise from your several donors being an added benfit, and thus you quickly gained more high profile clients, even lords from the south began to make their way through your doors, eager to experience a night with one of your girls. one of those clients was one of dornish royalty, your own homeland. prince oberyn was no stranger to your establishment, in fact, he had been on your very first nobleman. you could remember him saying that there was not a brothel in dorne that he was unaware of. as far as you knew he seemed to be impressed, as he quickly became a regular, often bringing visiting lords with him to experience one of his favorite establishments in his homeland, often telling them that a dornish brothel was unlike anything they had experienced. you were unsure if he was aware of the source of your wealth, he never asked. of course, you never expected him to. there were several different stories that strangers had strung together over the years, some claimed that you were descended from a lost line of kings that had left you their riches, others claimed that you were a witch who used blood magic in order to stay young and seduce men into handing over their coin. you always found particular amusement in that one. these rumors and stories did nothing to deter your customers. if anything, it only brought more in. men would come all the way from the north to experience your girls, some even hoped to have you for themselves. they would be sorely disappointed every single time however. today has begun like any other, you had awoken to the sound of birdsong, along with the hustle and bustle of the markets outside, the same as every morning. you’d quickly gotten out of your large bed, not before untangling yourself from the mix of golden and maroon bedding that you woke up eveloped in. the silks were soft against your skin and always left your hair in a pleasant mop of messy curls that you never bothered to untangle. placing a fresh layer of kohl around your eyes, you smudged with your fingers before leaving your room and knocking on all of the girls rooms, waking them up at the same time as always, a routine that they were all used to by now. unlike other brothels around dorne, you did not open at any particular time, the brothel opened when you wanted it to, or more accurately, when you finally awoke after a night of indulging in exotic fruits and wine, often with all your girls enjoying it with you after long day of work. your dark maroon dress held itself loosely over your body and flowed as you walked through the halls and towards the entrance, your golden earrings dangled playfully with every step you took, and your golden bangles clinked together softly as your arms swayed back and fourth. your steps made little noise, mainly due to the fact that you had an absence of shoes. wearing shoes inside was something that you considered distasteful and thus, your customers would discard their shoes at the entrance, a golden rule that they always followed. what you hadn’t counted on happening on this morning, was you walked to the entrance and unlocking the doors, only to hear a swift knocking ring out just as you had began to walk away. this was somewhat normal, you were popular, people had been known to wait at the entrance. what had left you ever so slightly surprised was opening the door and seeing oberyn standing there. you knew the prince to enjoy his mornings and it was almost unheard for him to be out and about this early, especially at a brothel, that did not normally happen until later in the day and even then, he would have a posse of other men with him, eager to show your girls off. there was only two other men with him this time, men you didn’t recognize. judging by their finely stitched robes of emerald green and brown, they were almost certainly highborn, tyrells if the roses stitched into their sleeves was anything to go by. “prince oberyn, this is a pleasant surprise.” you drawled, not caring to hide the still slightly tired tone in your voice, if they couldn’t already tell you had just awoken judging by the fact that you were squinting slightly from the bright sunlight suddenly flooding onto your face. “i see you have brought some friends.” you continued, letting your eyes travel up and down the two men who, quite frankly, looked terrified. whether it was of your or their surroundings you didn’t know and you didn’t care to ask. “i just thought i could show off my favorite establishment to my visitors from highgarden.” you were right, definitely tyrells. leaning against the door frame and gesturing to the two men, you ignored the princes blatant flattery and only let a sly smile cross your features. you tilted your head, pretending to deliberate whether or not to let them in as your eyes traveled back over to the two men. you made eye contact with one of them, a face full of freckles and strawberry blond hair, paired with brown eyes, a rather striking combination, especially seeing as the tyrells were known for their fiery red heads. “my girls do love their redheads.” she smirked as you spoke, practically leering at the man who could have been any older than twenty five, he quickly blushed and broke eye contact with you, suddenly deciding that the ground was very, very interesting. how adorable. “i suppose i can make an exception for my prince.” you bowed dramatically, making a show of letting the three men inside. “i’ll just go an get my little doves, they do enjoy their beauty sleep.” you smiled and quickly turned your back, leaving the three men in the entrance as you walked up the small set of stairs quickly.   rousing your girls from their rest was easier than one may think, you had already awoken them earlier, it was only a matter of telling them to come downstairs and to bring food and drink for the lords that had come to visit. before long, you returned with your girls in tow, three of which were now carrying trays of exotic fruits followed by wine made from grapes grown right here in dorne. guiding the three lords to an area with several couches, you gestured to the girls to put the food down in front of them. within seconds the girls were already all over the two tyrells, who seemed to be soaking up the attention like spounges, stupid grins befalling their faces as your girls sat on their laps and played with their hair. “should my lords need anything else, you need only ask.” you bowed, the smile never leaving your face the entire time. something that you’d noticed right away, was oberyn’s outright rejection of your girls attention. did he not feel like it today? had something changed? maybe he preffered the company of a male today? you were unsure. “actually, there are a few things i wish to discuss with you.” he spoke up, standing from his spot on the couch “with your permission of course.” this was odd. you’d had pleasant small talk with oberyn in the past, but the way he’d worded this made it sound as if there was a problem, you didn’t like problems, problems were bad for business. nodding slowly, you turned your head back to your girls and smiled once more. “look after them while i’m away little doves.” they all smiled and waved goodbye as you walked up the stairs, oberyn following closely behind you. even as you walked in front of him, you could feel his eyes drilling into the back of your head, the intense stare of the red viper was one that could be felt across rooms, much less when he was meters behind you. that paired with the anticipation of what he wanted to discuss with you was causing your heart rate to speed up ever so slightly, enough that it was noticeable. as soon as you reached the door to your chambers, you swung it open with little hesitation and stepped inside, walking straight towards a small table that had been set up with fruit and wine, no doubt by one of your girls. while pouring two goblets for yourself and oberyn, you hear the door shut behind you and take an intake of breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. being alone in a room with oberyn suddenly feels so much more intense when you know there are things he wants to discuss. you turn with the two goblets in your hands and offer him one, which he takes with a kind smile. you knew better than to take a smile as a sign to let your guard down, there had been several men who came and went, men who hid behind a smile, you knew better. you return his smile with little apprehension on your face and sit down, gesturing for him to sit across to you. taking a sip of your wine, you silently hope that it may help to strengthen your nerves. you weren’t one that was known to cower in the presence of many men, you had even kicked a fair few onto the street for hurting your girls. oberyn was not many men, he was not a man, he was the red viper, if he so wanted to, he could kill you right here and now and nobody would even hear you scream. out of pure habit, you let your hand briefly glide over the dagger strapped to your side, a gift from one of your past donors that never left your side. you watched with narrowed eyes and oberyn sat across from you, taking a few drinks from his goblet before placing it back on the table. “what did you wish to discuss? i do hope you haven’t grown bored of us my prince.” you had to play coy, whatever reason he’d called you up to the privacy of your own chambers, you intended to stay one step ahead of him the entire time, that was the way you’d survived in this life and that was the way you were going to keep surviving. “i would not dream of it.” he began, his eye’s never breaking contact with yours as he spoke “i am simply curious as to what you plan to present to me next, i have been a loyal customer for years have i not?” you forced yourself not to furrow your brows in confusion, instead nodding in agreement. “of course.” you paused, only for a moment. the air was tense, but not in a threatening way, it felt tense for an entirely different reason that you couldn’t put your finger on. “i’m not sure what else i could offer you that i haven’t already, you know my little doves are always willing to serve.” you stood when you finished, taking your goblet with you and walking to your large window, looking out onto the view you had of dorne. from where you stood, you could see the docks and wooden boats travelling in and out of port, no doubt carrying goods to be sailed off to kings landing. the sun shone down brightly onto the crystal blue waters and beaches of dorne. your home. you had hardly known anywhere else your entire life and you wouldn’t have it any other way, the people you’d met, the things you’d done, all in your home. the shit infested streets of kings landing held little interest to you, the freezing winds of the north were undesireable in your eyes, here, in dorne, lied the true beauty that westeros had to offer. beyond the sea lay a child on the iron throne, a targaryen girl in the east with three dragons and winterfell in ruins. something big was coming to the seven kingdoms, you could feel it in your bones, something cold, something unfeeling, more bloodthirsty than any king that had come before as dangerous as thousands of armies. the seven kingdoms were going to be shaken. it didn’t take very long before you felt oberyns presence behind you. he was so close that you could practically feel his breath on the back of your neck, you were able to smell his scent, sandalwood and musk, it was practically an aphrodisiac to some. before long, his breath had traveled from your neck to the back of your ear, resulting in a sharp intake of breath from you as you quickly realized he had you trapped in your window sill, breathing on your ear and practically pressed up against you, he had you exactly where you imagined he wanted you. “none of your little doves are appealing to me anymore.” he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper, only loud enough so that the two of you could hear. his whispers sent a shiver running down your spine, resulting in your eyes fluttering closed. you could physically feel your heart rate transitioning into a faster speed, his presence behind you was having an affect it had never had you before, an effect that neither man nor woman had given you for a long while. you could practically feel the lust radiating off of him. “and what is it that appeals to you now my prince?” you asked, your head turning to the side slightly so that the breath that was once on your ear is now against your cheek, his lips are ghosting over your cheekbone, though your eyes are still shut. you’d be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t physically showing the effect he was having on you. your breathing had grown ragged already, your cheeks were turning a soft pink and you were shivering, it was obvious. the prince chose not to answer you, instead, he gripped your hips tightly and brought your bodies together, pressing his face against your cheek, breathing in deep breathes of your scent. you gasped softly, fighting back the small sound of surprise the threatened to leave you. his chest pressed tightly against your back, his hardness grinding against the back of your thigh. “oberyn…” you breathed out, only now opening your eyes which immediately landed on his own, a deep dark brown filled with lust. and secrets. before you could say anything else he leaned down, planning to capture your lips in his own, his eyes beginning to shut as he leaned his head further down. your hand shot up form your side, gripping his chin tightly just as his lips barely ghosted over your own, so close that you were able to feel the soft breaths coming from his mouth on your lips. you stared at each other in silence, your tight chin on his chin never once leaving, so much so that you were fairly certain you were going to leave marks. pushing his face away from your own, you let go harshly and turned suddenly, gripping the golden collar of his tunic roughly and shoving him backwards. the prince did not seem to mind your roughness in the slightest, in fact, he seemed to be enjoying it. shoving him down on one of the chairs, you placed your hand flat on his chest. it wasn’t placed there to keep him sitting, you knew that if he wanted to take back control, he could in seconds, the only reason you were given control was because he allowed it, he could easily overpower you if he chose to. your fingers curled against his chest, digging into the golden fabric as you bit your bottom lip, staring down into his eyes intensely. this was all about power, whoever had the most power was the one who was going to lead, and that person would you, you were going to be sure of that. “you are in control to often for my tastes.” you finally spoke, your voice low as you moved forward, eventually gripping onto his shoulders and gripping his shoulders, straddling his lap, all while making sure to make every single one of your movements painfully slow, only letting yourself graze over his crotch where you could now see a notable tent in his dark orange pants. part of you swelled with pride at the thought that this was the effect you’d had on the prince, the other part of you was still on high alert, you were still unsure why he’d taken such a sudden interest in you, it could have been for any reason. “by all means my dove, take the lead.” the nickname for you that he’d settled on only filled you with more stubbornness to stay in control, the way he lightly patronized you made you want him to submit to you, mind, body and soul. showing little hesitation, you reached up with one hand and placed it on his cheek, letting your fingers scratch through his facial hair softly. you felt his hands run over your hands and quickly gripped his wrists tightly, placing them back on the arms of the chair, with a soft thud. “patience my prince.” you practically purred, tilting your head and smirking softly. the idea of not touching did not seem to bother oberyn, if anything, he seemed eager to see how long he could last. returning you hand to his cheek, you continued to stroke his beard, eventually sliding your hand down to meet his throat, using your index finger to trace around the ball of his throat before travelling further down to where his tunic had been left open, exposing the tan skin of his chest. you slid your fingers across his soft skin and let your eyes travel back up to his face once more, checking to see how he was faring against your light touches. his face remained stoic, barely showing any sign of being bothered by what you were doing. though you supposed it was silly to think he was not inept as showing as little emotion as possible, he had after all, met several lords and ladies over the years, he was obviously very skilled at the game of thrones. you continued to let your hands travel as if they had a mind of their own, gliding over the silk fabrics of his tunic until you reached the lather belt snugly fit around his hips. curling your fingers around the material, you unbuckled it slowly, slow enough so that he could hear every little sound it made, feel every movement. you wanted it to be pure torture for him and pure bliss for you. the prince continued to stare at you as you began to undo the strings of his pants. you could have sworn he was even smirking. he wasn’t taking you seriously in the slightest. this filled you with determination, determination to catch him off guard, even if it were the smallest little bit. you wanted to stay one step ahead at all times, and that the moment, prince oberyn martell was in the lead. deciding to opt for a change of pace, you quickly let your hands slip into his pants, wrapping your hand around his half hard member and squeezing lightly. while doing so, you leaned forward and let his lips grow closer to yours, but you did not kiss him, you refused to give him that satisfaction. his sharp intake of breath told you all that you needed to know, this was how you had managed to catch him off guard, now, you were back in the race. beginning to pump him slowly, you breathed onto his lips, making sure that he could feel how close you were to him. you could see his lips beginning to form into a thin line, it was getting easier and easier to tell that he was having difficulty holding back, the more and more you pumped his cock, the harder it was getting for him to remain as stoic as he was mere minutes ago. continuing to rub him, you let your lips meet his jaw, still not touching his lips, and began to kiss along his jawline until you reached his neck. you latched onto the skin of his neck, sucking and biting every where you could. before long, you’d left behind a plethora of small bruises along his neck and chest. it was then that he finally, finally let out a noise. it was quiet as a mouse, but you heard it, a small grunt, the one sign you needed to tell you all you needed to know. a smile crept along your lips as you lifted your head back up to face him once more. “not so stoic now are we my prince?” you tilted your head, smirking at him. it was then in that moment that the prince let out a sound you were not prepared to hear, it wasn’t a grunt, it wasn’t a groan. the sound that the prince let out came from deep in his throat, it was a low growl, resembling that of a wild animal. as he growled, the prince leaned forward quickly, intending to capture your lips in his own. unluckily for him, you quickly turned your head to the side and leaned back, still unwilling to let him kiss you. quickly withdrawing your hand from his now fully erect cock, you stood and walked back to the table where your wine sat and picked it up, taking a rather long sip from your own golden goblet. your back was now facing where the prince was still sitting, a dangerous move you could admit, but you honestly didn’t care. you were finished with your session of teasing the prince, you were going to let him take you. or at least that was what you wanted him to think. it didn’t take long for the prince to be behind you again, practically grinding his crotch into your backside as his hands came around you, one curling around your waist in order to pull you further against him, the other wrapped gingerly around your throat, causing you to tilt your head back and allow him access to latch his lips to your neck, where he wasted no time in leaving marks of his own. you continued to sip your wine as he left love bites along your skin. the hand that was around your waist glided up to your chest where he groped at your breasts hungrily, his other hand that had been previously around your neck flowing down to do the same, resulting in him with both of his hands on your breasts, palming them aggressively and growling obscene things in your ear. “i need to be inside you.” he grunted, taking extra care to grind against you when those words left his mouth, resulting in a pleasant hum on your part. finally finishing the wine in your goblet, you slowly put it back down on the wooden table. the moment it hit the wood, oberyn wasted little time in letting one of his hands travel to your back, quickly reaching in between your shoulder blades only to push you down harshly, resulting in your chest being pressed into the table and your thighs digging into its edge. you smirked as you laid your head down on the table, bracing yourself with your hands as he kicked your legs apart hastily, obviously having no patience at for you or your teasing. he showed little hesitation in hiking up your maroon dress, letting on ring covered hand glide up the supple skin of your thigh, before finally reaching your soaked folds, which he quickly ran his hand across gathering your wetness along his fingers, letting out a satisfied hum as he did. he leaned forward so that his chest was pressed against your back and his mouth was against your ear, breathing heavily against it. “i certainly hope your wet enough to take my cock little dove.” his words were obscene, though you expected nothing less from the prince, only letting your smile grow in response, a response which he took as his confirmation to continue. as he began to pull down his own pants, your mind wandered for the briefest of moments. you never saw yourself as the type to sleep with nobility; you’d had your fair share of both men and women, several experiences that would make a sept crumble to its bare foundations. and yet, this was never something you pictured to be in the cards for you, preparing yourself to be taken by the red viper, the prince of dorne, who desired you just as much as you desired him in that moment. being distracted by your own thoughts, you were only brought back into reality when you felt his sinking his cock inside you with little to no remorse, not even waiting before setting a pace that was absolutely brutal. you let out a loud cry and let your mouth hang open as you shut your eyes, letting out sounds that you were fairly certain could be heard in every room of the brothel, though you knew nobody would interrupt you, they knew better than you risk getting either you or the prince upset. his hips rolled against yours, emitting sounds of flesh slapping against flesh as he fucked you harder than any man had before. it didn’t take long for the two of you to establish a rhythm, though you were having trouble keeping up due to the sheer force in his thrusts. unexpectedly, you felt one of his hands reach the back of your head, where he quickly wrapped his fingers around a bunch of your thick curly hair, wrapping it around his knuckles and tugging harshly, causing you to arch your back and grip the wooden table, which was now creaking and shuffling along the stone floor, causing even more sounds to emit which would alert anybody in range as to what the two of you were doing up in your chambers, not that anybody would need to wonder in the first place. his chest was once again pressed against your back, though this time, he buried his head into the crook of your neck, grunting and growling against your skin, some poor attempts to silence the sounds coming out of him as he fucked you like tomorrow was not going arrive, like the sun was not going to rise the next day. your arm reached behind you to run your fingers through his back hair as you let out your own set of whimpers and cries. “oberyn…please don’t stop..” you were able to cry about between your moans and whimpers, your words only seeming to egg the prince on as he began to go harder and faster if that were even possible. “my little dove, your pussy takes my cock so well..” he rasped into your ear, his words getting more and more muddled towards the end of his sentence. you practically mewled as you felt your walls beginning to tighten around the princes cock, he filled you so much, you were hardly even sure if you were actually managing to take all of him at once. the hand that wasn’t still currently wrapped in your hair and pulling it harshly reached down to your clit, beginning to rub it in fast pace circles that only made the coil that was slowly winding in your stomach begin to tighten, threatening to release at any moment. “my p-prince, i’m going to-” you began, only to be cut off by another growl in your ear. “yes my little dove, come around your prince’s cock.” that was all the insentive that was required for you to feel your walls tighten around his hard cock and begin to convulse as the slapping sounds of him fucking you quickly became wetter with the moisture of your release flooding around his still hard cock. it was another few moments of thrusting before oberyn suddenly pulled out of your warmth and began pumping himself with his hands, letting out several grunts and groans until finally, with a rather loud groan and hushed whispers of your name leaving his lips did you feel him releasing onto your backside and thighs. those next few moments were spent in almost silence, the only sound that filled the room was the sound of the two of you panting heavily as you simultaneously came down from the pure euphoria was was the mind shatterign orgasms that you’d shared with one another. with little to no care for his own garments, oberyn quickly reached for the discarded top half of his tunic which he’d stripped himself from at some point and used it to wipe up the remnants of his release from your skin. he didn’t seem to care for getting his own clothes dirty, no doubt he sent them somewhere to be washed each day or otherwise had new ones made, he was a prince after all. slowly standing up straight, you felt your joints cracking softly as you stretched, raising your arms above your head with a loud sigh. it wasn’t long before you felt oberyns presence behind you once more, his hands stroked your upper arms slowly as he leaned down to kiss your shoulders, moving your messed up hair out of the way to gain access to and kiss your neck softly. letting out a happy hum, you turned slowly until your were facing him, leaning back against the wooden table and looking up at him. he placed either hands at your sides against the tables and leaned his head down, tilting his head slightly, his lips getting closer and closer to yours until they stopped just as they grazed together. this time, you didn’t stop him, in fact, you leaned your head up and captured his lips in your own softly, slowly enjoying your first time kissing prince oberyn, relishing in the feel of his lips on your own. finally pulling away purely for the purpose of air, you couldn’t hide the smile as you stared at one another. there were no words exchanged but you didn’t have to, words were not necessary when you could communicate through expressions and movements. reaching to your side, you picked a grape from the golden plate and held it up to his face, tilting your head in question. the prince replied by leaning forward and opening his mouth, letting you place it between his lips and use your index finger to push it inside his mouth. he happily accepted and chewed on the fruit, humming happily as he tasted its juices. without saying anything else, oberyn rested his hands at your hips and guided you away from the table, moving towards your large bed and placing you down on the golden sheets, hastily climbing on top of you. “are you not finished with me yet my prince?” you asked, feigning ignorance as you looked up at him. “there are still several other things i would like to do to you my little dove.” he whispered, letting his hand reach down until it once again found itself inbetween your legs and caressing your now drenched folds, sliding his fingers around. he pulled his fingers from your core and brought them to his own mouth, never breaking eye contact with you nor blinking once as he sucked your own wetness off of his fingers, humming in a mix of delight and satisfaction. releasing his fingers from his mouth with a satisfying 'pop’ sound, he smirked down at you and leaned in closer, whispering softly in your ear. “better than the sweetest of fruits my little dove.”

[bobbiworks]

Beyond the Bell's Chimes | Part 58

A decade has passed.

The sound of the pouring rain outside and the inaudible chatter of customers in the background felt like home as she stared at the slow spinning of the brown bubble on her coffee.  Some people were dismayed about the gloomy weather but a few of them in that cafe were blissful as they could give themselves a break from their hustles outside.

Jiwoo, just like the others around her, was taking her time to take in a breather from work just by staring at the busy street under the pouring rain. With a cup of joe sitting on the golden brown mahogany table in front of her, she indulged herself in a mini photoshoot of the subject: the lone coffee cup.

Satisfied with the shots, Jiwoo had the feeling to snap a photo of herself sitting on the gray cushioned couch. Tilting her phone to a certain angle to hide her unflattering aspects, she get to see a beautiful her. She was proud as she checked her photos until she heard the music played all over the place.

She could not help but feel giddy about the song. It has been years since she heard that song. She read in a post back that there are things in this world that unlocks a person's core memories whether it is a smell, taste, sound, look, feel, and hear, with a single thing, she began to remember all the feelings she had when she was younger.

She began to wonder all the what-ifs and all the things she could have done in the past with the wisdom and knowledge she has now. Will she be able to experience those things still? Or everything will change and be forgotten?

Jiwoo woke up from a light tap on her shoulder. It was the server at the cafe. She didn't notice that she fell asleep after thinking so much, what's surprising was that she had her coffee not too long ago. She looked outside and the rain has already ceased. She thanked the server and even gave her a tip before she stood from her seat.

"Leaving so soon?" Her uncle Wooseok was sitting on the other table, looking as handsome as he did during his prime. She smiled and greeted him with a hug. "You could have given me a call if you're out here spending time alone.." He said.

"I'll make sure to do that next time." Jiwoo smiled. "This cafe somehow reminds me of the old one I used to work at." She commented.

"Well, there are things we have to keep and things we have to let go. It was a great place to be honest," Wooseok sighed, remembeeing the good old days. He quietly looked at Jiwoo with fondness the same way he would look at her when she was little. Wooseok's a bachelor still yet he would always ser Jiwoo as his own no matter what. "Have you visited your mom?"

"I actually plan to spend the weekend at home, for Woojae's birthday." She smiled. "You must be there. You really have to be there." She said holding her uncle's hand.

"Alright. I will be there," He chuckled. Jiwoo gave him a big tight hug before she left the cafe. Her uncle Wooseok had given up the cafe for commercial property reasons but he was able to pull himself back by moving it to another location and successfully constructing a couple more branches in the city.

Jiwoo's parents were very much healthy and happy now that her father has retired from work, they were able to purchase a piece of land in his hometown where he's grow vegetables for the local market. Woojae had grown into a wonderful high school student in Segye High School. He was still the sweet, thoughtful kid that Jiwoo always loved.

. . . .

It was spring day in the year 2023. Jiwoo received an invitation from the school's president about  the high school homecoming of all graduates from Segye High School. A mixed of excitement, anxiousness and curiousity dwelled in her mind as she read the details and immediately confirmed her attendance. She began to wonder how her friends are now. It has been so long since they last met. They were together for a year after graduation but university life had taken a toll on each of them until they no longer meet. It was like an untold goodbye for Jiwoo, who remained still for her friends to come back anytime, until she too had to leave.

"Noona," Her train of thoughts were cut when Woojae knocked on her door. "Dinner's ready,"

"I'll be there," She replied and closed her computer. She then followed Woojae downstairs. Woojae had prepared bibimbap, her favorite for dinner. "Wow, looks good.."

"Well, I have to make it because you seemed down these days. Is everything okay?" He asked. Jiwoo still couldn't accept the fact that Woojae had become a teenager that was so thoughtfu and not rebellious. He had been so good in taking care of her despite being young.

"Hmm, I went to uncle's cafe.." She said while stuffing her mouth with food. "And it somehow reminded me about my friends back then.."

Woojae sighed, "Don't tell me you miss them?"

"Of course I do," Jiwoo replied. "You will get there when you grow old.."

"You're not that old, noona." He replied. "It's just that… every time you think about them, you get sad.. Especially when you remember Euns—" He stopped half way realizing that he should not mention the man who became his sister's world but disappeared. "Dad wanted us to sell this house and move to a better apartment.." He changed the topic.

"What's wrong with this house?" She asked. "It's well maintained and could need a little renovation,"

"Dad wants us to find a better place, noona." He tried to explain it to his sister without telling her that she should move on.

"Hmm, I'll stay here Woojae. If dad needs money, I can give him. I am doing well at my job." She assured her younger brother. "I've made a couple of investments too so we don't really need to sell this house.."

"Noona, I want you to be happy. I can take care of myself here…" Woojae began to cry. He watched his sister sacrificed her adolescent life working to the bones when their dad got into an accident. Her savings in high school which was supposed to be for her college fees were all spent for the medical fees for her dad until he recovered. She did a lot of odd jobs and barely slept. She barely had time for herself that made her lose the person she cherished. "Noona, we are okay now. You really should be living for yourself, not for us.."

. . . .

Jiwoo works as an art and humanities assistant professor in Sejong University. She is still doing her doctorate degree that is why she was busy as hell. Her job was good and the students were all nice. Despite working there for three years, she hasn't met any familiar faces at all. She was having lunch with her coworkers when her phone rang, reminding her about the reunion that they will have later in the evening. She almost forgot about it that it shocked her. She hasn't prepared anything, not even a dress to wear. The reunion will be held in Segye High School's gymnasium, plus one of the elite catering services will be managing the food and decorations. She wondered who planned all of this to be extravagant. She thought that having two hours of preparation wont be enough so she finished her meal quickly and went to see her boss, asking permission if she could leave work early today.

Jiwoo was one of the favorite professors in Sejong University for she made things easier and conclusive not only for teachers but for their students too. So her boss let her go early.

She immediately went to one of the upscale fashion stores in the city and began to go treasure hunting with the best set of clothes. Being an art major, Jiwoo had learned the basics in mix and matching clothes, plus she had worked as an assistant fashion coordinator in one of the famous magazines for internship. Despite being quiet and incredibly introvert, Jiwoo had gone up from where she was. She learned a lot of things on how to prepare for a reunion. She has to make an impact at least and be remembered.

She then went to the salon to have her long hair get fixed. She had a gorgeous black hair that reached her waist but had problems managing it since she was so busy. She decided to have it cut a few inches down her shoulders and had it done for later's event. She also requested to have a full glam make up look that would match her outfit. She had all the inspirations for her makeup look on her phone.

She decided to book a hotel room for the night just to give herself some space and privacy as she prepared herself for the night. She remained still in front of the mirror, fixing her hair as she kept giving herself affirmations. She felt so anxious that she just wanted to curl on the bed. She has no idea who will be there and she felt embarrassed to even see them.

She felt embarrassed to see Eunseok.

She clearly remembered that night when things were to hard on her. Her dad getting hospitalized, her finances dropping, and her mind was falling apart. She didn't know where to start again and she was tired of seeing herself being taken care of Eunseok. She had no idea that time if her life's difficulty will just be temporary or not and Eunseok who loved her so much wanted to help her out, but she refused. She felt small and ashamed in front of him so she decided to break up with him, and pushed him away. After that, she never saw him again.

A tear fell from her eye as she remembered the pain that she caused him as if it was just yesterday. If she were to ask, Jiwoo still loves him. She never dated anyone except for him. If only she could turn back time, she would have hold on to him and face all the challenges in life with him and never leave him alone. If only she could.

. . . .

The Segye High School was fully lit with cars filling the parking spaces, and the gymnasium was in full blast of music and people dancing. It was like a school festival back in the old days. People circling, laughing and sharing life's journeys in a happy setting.

Anton and Suyoung arrived in the venue, with Suyoung linking arms with her cousin. The crowd's attention were at them seeing one of the world-class cellist Anton Lee was walking with Suyoung. They were spotted by Sohee who was talking with Hanbin and Minseul, who recently got married. People thought Sohee and Suyoung broke up after high school, but the two were so in love with each other that they got married right after finishing their degrees.

"I thought you two aren't together.." Hanbin spoke as he saw Sohee giving Suyoung a kiss on her lips.

"We kinda remained lowkey and kept everything for ourselves." Suyoung explained. "Our wedding isn't grand. Just a few friends and families.."

"So, Jiwoo knew?" Minseul asked. "I haven't seen her in ages." She said.

"We haven't heard from her for a long time," Anton replied. There was sadness in his tone. For Anton, he loved Jiwoo so much that it affected him a lot when she stopped messaging him. He did not know what happened. He couldn't even go to her place because she wasn't there. She disappeared without a trace.

"Oh my god, is she—" Minseul thought for the worse but Suyoung immediately stopped her. "What about Eunseok?"

"Hmm, they broke up? I am not sure. Haven't heard of him in years." Suyoung said.

"Well, I can sense the sadness here. We all miss each other but it is not yet the end of time…" Sohee said as he tried to comfort them. "Anton, can you keep Suyoung company here? You can sit in that table.." He ushered them. "I have to meet Seunghan and Wonbin,"

"Oh my gosh! Their coming??" Suyoung gasped.

. . . .

"I'm not sure if Ji's phone number is still the same. I haven't really seen her for such a long time. Ever since her dad got into an accident she had been so busy trying to make ends meet. I couldn't even have time to check on her because it was my finals…" Seunghan explained as he was walking with Wonbin to the gymnasium. Wonbin had just arrived from New York, all dressed in black with his hair reaching his shoulders and a thin rimmed specs that completed his look for the evening. Seunghan on the other hand worked as a general manager in a huge food company. "I am actually worried not seeing her,"

Wonbin stopped, "Don't you think she will hate us?" He asked turning to Seunghan who immediately shook his head sideways. "That's Jiwoo. If we are worried about it, how much do you think she will do? I mean, I wouldn't miss this opportunity if I were in her shoes. And I.. I wouldn't miss this opportunity too. So, she'll be fine. I am sure she will be here.." Wonbin assured.

"Wonbin! Seunghan!"

The two men turned their heads to see Sohee waving at them. Their faces lit up and instantly forgot that they were not teenagers anymore and ran to each other hugging.

"What the hell! How come you didn't invite us to your wedding?" Seunghan asked as he was ruffling Sohee's hair.

"Whoa, easy with the hair! My wife took hours to fix that." Sohee chuckled, pulling away from his friends's hands. "Anton and Suyoung are inside. Did you know Minseul and Hanbin got married too??"

"Whoa! Really?" Wonbin asked, eyes widened in shock. He remembered the time Minseul pretended to flirt with him when they were younger. "Wow, sure time flies fast." He laughed.

"I am so glad you came here," Sohee sighed and ushered his friends to go inside.

. . . .

Sungchan and Miyoung broke up after high school. Sungchan decided to take a break for a year while Miyoung pursued her studies but they were great friends. However, Miyoung found new love and was already engaged while Sungchan remained single. He was waiting for Shotaro at the school front gate. Hr became the closest to Shotaro as he felt like they were in the same level and Shotaro had been the best friend he had during the trial times. His smile appeared when he saw Shotaro riding his motorcyle. He stopped and had Sungchan hopped on before driving inside the school.

"I heard everyone's there. Eunseok's not really coming?" Shotaro asked and only received a shrug from the latter. "Well, I am in charge of the RSVP and Jiwoo confirmed her attendance. You better tell him that she's coming. I am sure your friend has been waiting for her.."

. . . .

Eunseok was inside his car stranded in the traffic along the main road. He had an appointment at 7 at the Hyatt Hotel. It wasn't important but it was one of the blind dates his mom set up for him. He was actually getting tired of meeting different girls every month. He was checking rubbing his temples to ease his headache from the stagnant flow of the road when his phone rang.

It was Sungchan calling about the reunion.

"Hey, I have an appointment. I don't think I can—"  He stopped when he heard Sungchan's news.

"Everyone is here." Sungchan said from the other line. "I mean, everyone will be here. Shotaro confirmed the RSVP."

Eunseok's heart began to race when his thoughts have started to think about Jiwoo, seeing her again. "Wait… Is she there?"

"Well, you have to come here and see.." Sungchan replied and immediately ended the call.  Eunseok was left dumbfounded, not knowing what to do. Are they pulling a prank on him? If they do, this isn't a good prank at all. He began to think a lot of possibility that Jiwoo might be there. He didn't want to miss this opportunity, he didn't know when will he see her again.

"Sir, we are at the hotel now.." His driver announced right after he stopped the car in front of the entrance gate. Eunseok paused for a moment and thought for a moment. He has to reject the blind date he has tonight for the unsure opportunity of meeting Jiwoo again at Segye High School. He doesn't know if she is going to talk to him but all he knows that he will be give up everything he owns just to be with her again. He stepped out of the car and fixed his suit before walking into the hotel. He went straight to the lobby where he saw his date. He was about to take steps towards her but his eyes caught a familiar face.

It was Jiwoo in the flesh, holding onto the arms of a man while walking out of the elevator. His entire world stopped when he saw her again after all these years looking so happy and beautiful. He couldn't control his emotions and even himself, he walked past his date and went to grab Jiwoo's hand that was holding on other man's arm.

"Shim Jiwoo.." He spoke, as if those words, her name was the only reason he breathed.

Jiwoo, surprised to see Eunseok in the hotel she was staying at, couldn't form a word to say to him. The way he looked at the man she was with, she could see the pain in his eyes.

"Eunseok-hyung?" The man spoke, making Eunseok get back to his senses and looked at the man who spoke his name. "Eunseok-hyung…"

"Hyung?" Eunseok stammered, turning to Jiwoo for answers. She looked hesitant but she was able to pull her hand away from his hold.

"It has been a long time since we last saw each other." She smiled, "This is Woojae now.."

"Woojae?" Eunseok stammered once more and realized that the little brother Jiwoo loved had become a young man he barely recognized. "Woojae!" He smiled as he pulled the boy for an embrace. "I'm sorry I did not recognize you."

"I heard a lot about it." Woojae chuckled, returning the embrace to his older friend. "What are you doing here, hyung?" Woojae seemed to have taken the conversation with Eunseok after seeing his sister's reaction in seeing him all too sudden.

"I was—" Eunseok was about to speak when a woman dressed in white, with a orange wavy hair tapped his shoulder. She looked so sophisticated and was totally in the same level as Eunseok.

"I thought you saw me," She said linking her arm with Eunseok. "I can't believe you are ignoring your date!" She huffed.

Jiwoo smiled, she felt the woman was trying to make a point with those words that she quietly tugged on to her brother's arm. "It seems we caught you in the middle of something, hyung. We'll be going to the reunion." Woojae said and slowly excused themselves.

Eunseok watched Jiwoo walked away without saying a word to him. He knew he will never have a chance to speak to her again if he let this slip.

"Shall we have dinner, Eunseok?" The woman asked as she was still holding on to his arm, but Eunseok gently pulled his arm from her hold.

"I'm sorry Hana, I came here to tell you that I am sorry. I really do." Eunseok said and was ready to follow Jiwoo, but Hana grabbed his hand once more.

"This is the 4th time our parents planned this date, Song Eunseok." She frowned. "Is she the one you've been waiting for??" She asked.

"I'd rather die than miss this chance to talk to her," He replied, he was in the verge of tears when he looked at her. Hana's hold slowly loosened and finally let go of him. He thanked her and ran after Jiwoo, but it was too late. She had already left.

[we-are-inevitable]

Is spot in the small town au?

yes!!

okay so i'm just gonna list everyone and give a little rundown of their place in the au!

this is REALLY long, but please feel free to ask me about any of them !!! i love them so much!! please !! so, here it goes:

SMALL TOWN AU CHARACTER LIST:

Jack Kelly:

17 or 18, depending on when it takes place

Birthday: July 3rd

Jack is involved in the rodeo circuit. He primarily participates in barrel racing, though he also participated in steer riding- basically the junior equivalent of bull riding for 7-13 year olds.

He has two horses, Dolly (10) and Cash (6). Dolly is his pride and joy and is the horse he trains with most often. She's also his main rodeo horse. Cash is ,, just kind of there, but he's a fun time and Jack works with him as well, though Cash isn't as experienced in the rodeo circuit. He's more of a recreational horse.

Jack is also a student, entering his senior year. (All fics that have been uploaded take place in the summer between junior and senior year.)

He's bisexual (though it's a long process for him to be able to admit it, to himself and to anyone else).

He lives on a farm on the outskirts of town with his father, Daniel, a harsh and unsupportive man who rarely shows up to any of Jack’s events. The farm is fairly large and successful; they raise cattle for stock shows and have had a long partnership with the butcher in town. Jack also raises hens on his own and sells the eggs as a side hustle for some extra cash because, like, why not?

side note: his chickens are his 'ladies'

Jack has an interest in art, the history of the 'wild west', and politics. He hopes to go to university and major in either Studio Arts or Graphic Design, but he's scared that he will have to stay home on the farm.

David Jacobs:

18

Birthday: May 11th

David is everyone's favorite city boy. He was born and raised in Manhattan, though his family relocates to a small, rural town in the American southwest because of a job opportunity for David’s father.

Naturally, David has no clue what to think. He goes from being an out-and-proud gay teenager to being shoved back into the closet, and he doesn't come out to anyone until at least two months after they arrive in town.

He’s Jewish, and is actually a polyglot; he can speak English, Hebrew, Yiddish, Polish, French, and Spanish. All of the Jacobs kids can speak Hebrew, Yiddish, and Polish- just because it’s kind of a family thing? David’s grandparents don’t speak much English, and Esther and Mayer wanted their children to be multilingual.

David is also a student going into his senior year. He's very active in extracurriculars; he takes all AP classes, he does public speaking, he enjoys volunteer work, etc. His resumé is extensive and impressive.

He meets Jack because Les, ever the inquisitive child, saw an ad for the rodeo and basically begged to go. Since Esther and Mayer were busy, and Sarah already had work, David volunteered to take him.

This is where they meet Jack, and David falls head over heels for the boy.

Anyway, David doesn’t exactly *like* living in a small town like this, but the people he meets are more genuine than anyone he’s ever met in the city.

When he goes to university, he wants to major in English Education, with a double-minor in Creative Writing and Comparative Literature. But there’s something about this little town that makes him want to stay close and not go to a huge university across the country.

Katherine Pulitzer:

17

Birthday: January 30th

Katherine is a barrel racer, just like Jack. She’s actually one of the best around; she’s beat Jack more times than he can count, and has the most wins under her belt- more than anyone in their group.

She’s whip smart, too. She takes AP classes, she’s taking concurrent college courses- she’s basically the golden child.

Her horse is named Shakespeare. I will not budge on this.

She loves reading, obviously; she has, like, three bookshelves in her bedroom alone.

She actually doesn’t look like a typical Southern girl. Unless she’s barrel racing or training with Shakespeare- when she wears jeans, a button up, and boots- she wears skirts and heels and has very extravagant makeup; she doesn’t like taking herself too seriously.

She’s going to college for Journalism, and hopes to be a reporter for a big news station. Her father isn’t particularly fond of this decision, mainly because he wants her to stay in town for the rest of her life and run the town newspaper, but Katherine has bigger aspirations.

Charlie “Crutchie” Morris

17

Birthday: August 12

Though Crutchie isn’t directly involved with the rodeos, he’s a huge helper- mainly because he’s the one who takes care of everyone’s horses.

Not really, but kind of. His family owns the veterinary clinic in town, so he often goes with his parents on farm calls, and basically works for them. Everything he knows about animals has been learned from a lifetime of living behind the vet clinic, spending lunch hours watching surgeries, and going to different farms every weekend.

He’s best friends with Jack Kelly. They actually met because of the clinic; Crutchie would often come to the Kelly’s farm with his mother whenever they went to check on the horses or the cattle.

He does a few different sports, both through the school and through different leagues in the surrounding areas.

He's going to major in Animal Science in university, then go to vet school! He hopes to expand his family's clinic.

Antonio "Racer" Higgins

17

Birthday: February 14th

This boy. Thiiiiis boy. He's one hell of a fun time. He throws the best bonfires, he knows all the line dances, and he's the life of the party wherever he goes.

But he's also really fucking intelligent. Like, 32 on the ACT intelligent. He could go to any school he wants to go to, and he's going to major in Animal Science like Crutchie- but he's actually planning on participating in the collegiate rodeo circuit, and hopes to go professional after college.

He's a snarky little smart-ass, but he's one of the most genuine people. He tells it like it is, because being honest is more important than saving feelings.

But he's also a complete softie! He gives really good hugs and is one of the most affectionate people in the group.

Albert DaSilva:

18

Birthday: October 30th

Albert is a senior like the rest of them, and he's one of the only ones- like Crutchie- not directly involved in the rodeos.

He's always there, though! He loves the atmosphere and likes supporting his friends!!

Albert works at his Uncle's auto shop. He's really handy and loves it. He loves cars, loves working with his hands, and loves the technical side of things.

Whenever Jack needs help with his truck, an ancient Dodge Dakota, Albert is right there. He also works on trailers and stuff!

Albert is also really into welding. He's been welding with his Uncle since he was, like, 13, and he's going to go to a technical school instead of college so he can get his welding certification.

Sean "Spot" Conlon

18

Birthday: December 10th

Spot is involved with the rodeo! He doesn't barrel race, though; he does saddle bronc and bull riding.

He also used to do calf roping when he was younger.

He's one of the most intense guys around. He loves rodeo and loves the community; he's serious about it, and- like Race- he hopes to go professional as an adult. He's also, of course, looking to be involved on the collegiate level.

But he also knows how to have fun. He likes bonfires and likes getting together with his friends, and he has the best sense of humor; he makes the funniest, quickest jokes and no one ever expects it from him.

I've talked about this before, but Spot isn't the best at having heart to hearts. He's very business-minded, but his love language is gift giving! He's just,, not very conventional at it.

He gives random gifts like sticks and rocks, but everyone loves it anyway. He's good. He's a good guy.

And that's that !! There are a few more background characters, of course, but these are the mains. I hope you guys enjoy this !!