#*slides idea off for a sketch*

[etherealvoidechoes]

Akemi and co having to ambush Zhang with a camera to take a group photo otherwise they’re only getting his backside or nothing at all.

Geist joining in didn’t help. Eventually the old man became less hostile to the photos

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Erik getting a prince albert piercing and not telling his girl until after he did it

Request: The Campbells have a barbecue for Bobby’s birthday and Erik invites you

Warnings: mention of piercing,

Fell in love with this man the second I saw him on screen. I'm so happy people want to read about him. This is exactly my type

—

Barbecues were a recurrent event at the Campbells. It was a great way of spending time together, and an opportunity for Howard to show off his skills behind the grill. He wouldn’t call himself a grill master, but he definitely was a pro burger-flipper.

You’ve gone to a few barbecues yourself since dating Erik. His family was endearingly chaotic — in the best ways. While the food was cooking, Julia and Erik would go on the trampoline and have a highest jump battle, like they did as children. Each time one of them would take a bad fall, Brenda would threaten to sell the trampoline, but never actually do it. 

Today’s barbecue was special though; it was Bobby’s birthday. Brenda hung a ‘happy birthday’ sign over the sliding door which matched the small bouquet of lavender balloons in the corner. 

You abandoned Julia and went inside to help Erik with the plates and cutlery. He’s been inside for over ten minutes, why was he taking so long? 

‘’Erik?’’ you called out, not seeing him in the kitchen. 

No answers. 

With a frown on your face, you checked the living room before making your way upstairs. The hallway at the top was lined with photos of the Campbells throughout the years, from baby photos to family vacations. You chuckled as you passed the one of  seven years old Erik with a toothless grin. He had fallen off his bike and broke his front teeth the weekend before picture day at school. 

Speaking of Erik, you heard a series of curses coming from his bedroom. You followed the sound and held a chuckle when you found him sitting on his bed, wrapping Bobby’s present with difficulty. 

‘’Need a hand?’’ 

Erik looked up as you entered his room and let out a sigh of frustration. ‘’This is sorcery.’’ He glared at the scotch tape and paper, as if it was their fault. ‘’Can I just put a bow on top and give it to him like that?’’ 

You rolled your eyes, dropping onto the bed beside him. ‘’Or you could admit defeat and let me take over.’’

He pushed the mess of paper toward you. It was ‘your problem’ now. ‘’Be my guest.’’ 

As you started smoothing out the paper, Erik shifted up the bed and flopped back against the pillows, and let a quiet, involuntary groan slip out.

It sounded painful, so you glanced over. “You good, babe?” 

Erik cleared his throat. “Fine.’’ 

‘’Did you hurt yourself fighting with Bobby over the controller again?’’ you asked, used to the Campbell siblings shenanigans. They played hardcore. 

‘’No.’’ The brunet hesitated, then continued. He intended to keep it a secret from you, but he couldn't see himself making up shit for the next four to six weeks. '’I just…I got my dick pierced two days ago. It’s sensitive.’’ 

You were used to Erik coming up with spontaneous body modifications projects and never actually getting them done. A month ago, he really wanted a tattoo of a certain metal band. He even made a sketch on his ipad, but forgot about it and moved to another idea…which he also didn’t get done. 

So when he told you that he got his dick pierced, you didn’t believe him. For one, it sounded extremely painful. And second, he always talked about it as a joke. 

You scoffed, folding a corner of the paper smoothly before taping it down. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not,” he said, deadpan.

You looked up and squinted at him. “Erik, you can’t be serious.” 

That signature shit-eating grin spread across his face. The kind he wore whenever he was about to confess to something absolutely reckless. The one that always meant trouble. 

Suddenly, you were having doubts. 

“Dead serious.'’

He was serious. 

You shook your head, your lower stomach filling up with butterflies. “You’re insane.”

You meant it as a compliment. His recklessness was part of him, and you wouldn’t change it. Even if it made you want to tear his head off sometimes. 

‘’Want me to pull my pants down and show you?” He brought a hand down to his belt buckle, about to undo it, but you stopped him.

‘’Later.’’

—

All and more taglist:  @kenqki  @hawkegfs  @gillybear17   @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade   @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart  @xyzstar  @graceberman3   @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs  @lexasaurs634  @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634  @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis  @katherinejess  @rafesgirlstuff   @lafleshlumpeater @iamluminosity  Anouk nani-2305 @books0fever @papichulo120627 @qardasngan @ghostlyvoidydragon @M0rgans1nterlud3 @dahlia-blossom21 @Spacexdrago @nhlfs

[cameronsbabydoll]

nerd!rafe with breeding kink pleaseeee 🩷

nerd!rafe with a major breeding kink <3

warnings: breeding kink — mdni 18+

wc: 213 — a/n: first time sorta writing sub!rafe

he’s the quiet, awkward trust fund kid at your college who’s always in the back of the lecture hall, wire-frame glasses sliding down his nose, hoodie sleeves tugged down over his knuckles, sketching formulas or mindlessly writing your name in the margins of his notebook like a loser.

and when you finally hook up with him? ohhh he’s feral in the most pathetic, desperate way. all shy touches and bitten-off whimpers at first until it just spills out of him—

"g-gonna fill you up, baby... fuck, y-you’ll let me, right? let me make you all mine... wanna see you looking so pretty and round f’me."

he gets obsessed. practically worships the idea. the thought of getting you pregnant totally fries his genius little brain. suddenly he’s spacing out in class thinking about it, adjusting his sweats constantly because he’s so hard under the desk imagining you swollen with his baby.

oh and he babies you like crazy after:

“shouldn’t be lifting that, angel… not when you’re carrying my baby.” “y’know i studied genetics for years but i swear you’ll be the most perfect thing i’ve ever made.”

and god forbid you tease him about it — sweet little giggle like, "what if it actually happened, rafe?" because he’ll damn near cum in his pants just hearing you entertain the idea.

[aangelinakii]

idk if i've said it before but i loveloveloveeeee ur damian stuff omg. i had the silliest idea of damian slowly realizing that he was in love with the reader and caught himself doodling them on the corner of a homework assignment and he's adding a sappy caption like "my beloved" and adding his signature before he can stop himself.

DAMIAN WAYNE + CRUSHING.

note : this idea is SO FRRAKING CUTE !!!! i lowk didn't wanna write a whole imagine so i did something similar to what i did with bruce and CRUSHING HEADCANOND !!!! yes yes

damian isn't one to get a crush

crushes are for babies

and damian al ghul wayne is Nawt a baby

so why tf is he sitting in his ap physics class that his father paid for with his old money

doodling your name in the margin of his textbook

beside his stuff about newton's law

whatever that is 💀

his eyes widen at the sight of the scribbles, blacking out what looks like your first name with variations of his last name

what would sound better, wayne or al ghul ?

and below that there's his name, damian, scrawled with your surname

maybe he'd take yours

or mush them together in a double barrel

and oh look he's done that too, just to check how well they'd go together

his knuckles grow white as his grip on his pen tightens, and he knows he should scribble them out further, to better hide the evidence

but something's fluttering in his heart and he can't bring himself to do it

maybe he'll just tear the page out when he gets home and hide it at thr bottom of one of his various drawers, maybe even slide it within the pages of one of his books in there so it's sure to not get found

when damian had found himself thinking about his school friend more than usual

and i mean breakfast lunch and dinner

he just thought

oh we must be really good friends, they must mean a lot to me

but as he stares down at the sketch he's done of what he can see of your face at this angle on one of the desks before him

something hits him and he realises this isn't just friendly

you're his muse, the only thing that can take his mind off what's most important — and at the moment that's getting a good grade in ap physics

there's no way he can talk to any of his brothers about this, not stephanie or barb

duke might be more relenting

cass might be more understanding

even his father would be a stretch

he hasn't had much luck in the love department, what good would he be in this situation ?

perhaps... yes.. perhaps he should talk to alfred when he gets home

[revelboo]

please any more perceptor crumbs 🙏🙏🙏 my underrated goat i love him

Sure!

Warm

Preceptor x Reader

• Reaching absently for a tool, his servos brush the empty countertop and he hears a slight rasp. Turning to stare as you slowly push the tool closer to his hand and offer him a little smile. Trying to help him and he’s not really sure what to make of it. Wonders if you want something as he nods his head at you in thanks and picks up the tool, resuming his work. Hesitating when you duck under his arm to get closer to what he’s working on. Curious? “I’d rather you didn’t do that,” he murmurs and you look up at him. “It’s dangerous.”

• “Right. Sorry,” you say, moving back some. But not too far. There’s nothing else to do in the lab except watch him work and you wonder if he realizes he makes faces while he’s sketching out ideas. That he taps a servo absently on his cheek when he’s thinking or that he moves faster, grabbing for things in a hurry when he’s excited because a thought’s just occurred to him. Caught up in his giant, alien version of zoomies and it’s adorable. You like watching him work, don’t mind the quiet.

• Jotting down a note on his datapad, he stiffens when you climb up to straddle his forearm and just stretch out on him. Knows you’re cold more often than not, but he made you a heater for a reason. And you still prefer him. Making everything much more difficult when he doesn’t like disturbing you when you’re being affectionate and clingy. Laying your cheek on an arm, watching him write with the other hand. Venting, he knows you’ll get bored and wonder off eventually. Even if the way you’re absently tracing spirals on his plating is very distracting. Almost intimate as silly as the thought is.

• You can feel him staring at you, but he’s not tipping his arm to slide you off of his warmth. Watching him doodle out his ideas, you’re lulled by the rasp of the stylus on the datapad and the faint thrumming you can feel wherever you touch him. Liking when it’s just him and you, when Brainstorm and his person aren’t here and arguing loudly. Because Perceptor is relaxing and calm. Something about the big bot feeling so safe.

• Glancing at you when you make a funny noise, he groans. You’re asleep, mouth open and snoring still lying on his arm in an inelegant sprawl. And he’s tempted to dump you off of him, but he can’t quite make himself do it. Listening to your snorts and grumbles as you sleep on him, a leg sliding on his arm. Even if the snoring sometimes startles him out of recharge, you’re kind of cute. A little spot of warmth that at this point, he’s used to having on him when he rests. Missing you the rare times you sleep by yourself in your pile of blankets because he’s too warm and you grumble when he always picks you up to put you back on his chassis. Where you belong.

[fanficloverdotnet]

Sunlight and Sex

pairing; Gojo Satoru/Reader

tags; gender neutral reader, reader with female g*nitalia, fluff, smut, multiple orgasms, oral(f!receiving), belly bulge, v*ginal sex, cock warming, cr*ampie, Satoru calls reader Doll (1) time,

word count; 1.4k

a/n; cross-posted on ao3!! first time writing smut be nice please🙏

You let out a small hum, your eyes fluttering open as you took in a deep breath. There was warm light filtering in the window and a breeze coming in through the open balcony doors.

You laid on your side in bed, pillows under you in what should be uncomfortable but are in just the right position not to dig into you. Satoru sits across the room by the balcony doors in a chair, the cool breeze gently pushing his hair as he gazes at the book in his hands, flipping the page every few minutes.

You turn just a bit more, angling your body to face him to see him just a little better, and admiring how pretty he looks in the lighting.

You think you could lay here and just watch him for the rest of your life, staring and memorizing every groove of him. How the light reflected in his eyes, how it sits on his face at this angle. You lay there mapping out every inch of him in your minds eye, the scene was reminiscent of a painter gazing at their muse, but without the easel and paints.

Your fingers twitched at the idea of being able to draw and sketch his every feature, but you knew you wouldn’t try. The disappointment of it being even a little off would be too much, and after all, you had the real thing in front of you.

You don’t know how long you stayed there gazing at him once he finally sets down his book, you suspect it might’ve been an hour or so with how the sun begins to set on the horizon.

He set the book down on a small table off to his side before stretching and letting out a yawn. He looked up at you, your eyes finally making contact. He raises a brow, cocking his head to the side and a smile gracing his features, “When did you wake up?” He asked.

You let out a small hum before responding, “A while ago.”

He gasped, hand rising up to his chest “And you didn’t say anything? How can i pamper you when you wake up if you don’t tell me?” he says pouting as he gets up and makes his way over to you.

You let out a huff trying not to laugh at his pout, he looks cute making that face, you think. You open your arms as he finds his way over to you, him sliding into the bed and pressing close to you as he smothers your face in kisses. You smile as you feel his arms wrap around you, warmth blooming in your chest.

You stay like that for a while, Satoru’s face resting on your head, both your arms around each other and a gentle smile on your face. You love these days, where you wake up from naps, to him, sweet and doting every time.

You melt in his arms, his lips gracing your head as he shuffles a bit before his face is in front of yours. He’s got a dopey grin and his eyes are on your lips when you move forward and meet his with your own.

He bites at your lip before your mouth opens, tongues clashing, you kiss for a minute more before breaking away. Your breathing is heavy as your lips clash once more, barely a delay before you kiss again. When you finally break the kiss there’s no time in between when Satoru’s focus moves to your neck, kissing and nibbling up and down the side of it.

When he gets to your collarbones he leaves soft pecks along it before biting and sucking on one spot, a gasp leaving your lips as he does. He leaves a mark there as his lips finally leave you, his hands roaming before finding their target, he tugs at the hem of your top, looking up at you for permission.

At your nod he pulls your top up and off of you, before continuing to kiss down your torso, leaving marks with his lips as he goes. He hums at your every sound and gasp, treasuring the sounds like music.

When he reaches your bottoms he tugs the waistband of them down to kiss your hips, before helping you out of them. He moves to take his own clothes off, moving quicker at the whine you let out waiting for his touch again.

He moves between your legs, and for a moment you think the sight of him between your legs, with the golden light pouring inside on his face could be in a museum, before he finally starts sucking right where you need him and faintly, you think that this couldn’t be in a museum, because you want him all to yourself.

His tongue feels like heaven licking over your folds and moreso when he finally delves into you. He sucks and laps at your folds like he’s a man starved, like you’re water and he’s been in a desert for years.

He sucks and bites and you’re doing all you can not to cum on his face right here and now. His hands move to grip your hips, holding you down as you start to buck up into him.

He licks and finally hits the spot you needed him most and suddenly you’re cumming on his tongue. You whimper as he groans into you, sucking and not letting up once, taking it all and milking you through it.

When he finally lifts his head off you, his lips are wet with your essence. He moves on top of you to kiss you and you can taste yourself on him tongue. You whimper as you feel his hardened cock graze over your clit.

“Toru’ please, I need you”, You gasp out as his lips leave your own.

The grin on his face is enough to make you clench on air, “Need me where, Doll?”

You let out a whimper and he chuckles, lining himself up with your folds and leaning his head down near your ear,

He whispers breathily as he finally pushes inside “Here?”.

You moan as he thrusts in, burying himself balls deep inside you. No matter how many times he fucks you, you swear he feels just as big as the first time. You clench as you see the bulge of him through your stomach.

He stays like that for a minute more, groaning as he tries not to cum just feeling you clench around him. When he finally does move, its heaven and hell, he pulls out and thrusts so slowly at first, that you’re left whining and pleading.

As he finally fastens his pace, you’re left a mess on his cock. He goes slow at first, but when he really starts? He fucks you hard. You cry out as he pistons in and out of you, fucking you like he’s been deprived of your body for 30 years.

He kisses you rough, never stopping his thrusting. As he hits your g-spot you’re left reeling as stars fill your vision, you cum and you cum hard. Satoru, however, never lets up. He fucks you through your orgasm and only slows when he finally cums as well. He groans as he fills you, deep and heavy, thrusting while you clench around him.

He stops for barely a minute afterward, cock still hard inside of you before he starts up again. It doesn’t take as long for him to hit his orgasm this time, spilling inside you with ease as he continues at the same pace. You’re a mess on his cock, head thrown back and letting out sounds at every thrust.

Your vision darkens as he continues thrusting into your clenching hole, with you cumming around him once more. He groans as he feels you cum and he spills into you one last time. You swear you feel like you’re about to burst with how full it makes you.

He slows to a stop after that, cock soft but still inside as he kisses your neck slowly before making his way to your lips. You feel him wrap his arms around you as your eyes flutter closed, exhaustion overtaking you. You’ll take a shower in a minute you think for a moment, after you rest your eyes a bit, but for now you’re content to lay in Satoru’s arms, still full of his cock and cum.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

feeling pretty low today, so i’m turning to these two old men for a little comfort

nsfw under the cut, fem!reader

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Stan likes to call you:

sweetheart, honeybun, doll face and on occasion baby girl. when he’s feeling extra bold? princess — always with that unmistakable smirk

calls you “my good luck charm" if you help him out in the Shack, especially when he’s trying to swindle a tourist and you flash a pretty smile.

✦ “c’mere, darlin’. can’t let a fine gal like you walk around without her prince.”

✦ “ah, y’know, you’re the only reason I don’t go completely nuts in this crazy town. sometimes, doll, I think yer my only sane thought all day.” said so casually as if it’s not gonna hit you right in the heart

✦ if you get hurt (even the tiniest scratch), he’s going into dad mode: “who do I gotta knock some sense into, huh?” even if you’ll tell him it was just a clumsy accident, he’ll grumble, “well, now I’m the one hurt. bein’ all worried like that. you’re killin’ me, kid.” 

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Ford likes to call you:

“dearest” when he’s feeling soft, sweetheart, darling, honey, baby

he’ll whisper “love” against your temple when he thinks you’re drifting to sleep, his voice quiet and reverent like it’s sacred to him

starlight – Ford’s been out in those other dimensions, faced down monsters and madness, but he says he’s never found anything so bright, so grounding. “c’mere, starlight, I’m not finished admiring you.”

༄ “don’t laugh, but. . . I’d chase you across universes, even if it took me another thirty years. no dimension is worth exploring without you by my side.”

༄ if you’re reading one of his journals, Ford’ll slide up behind you, his hands on your shoulders as he murmurs, “curious, are we? so, what do you think of my work?”

༄ he’s not a show-off, not by any means, but catch him fixing up a machine? he’ll lift his gaze to you, smiling. “I could teach you, you know. but you’d have to be a very attentive student.”

༄ oh, if Ford wrote about you in his journal, you know it’d be scrawled between notes on trans-dimensional theories and arcane symbols, the ink smudged in places where he hesitated, where his pen hovered just so before he let himself write the truth

“Strange anomalies detected….. not in the temporal or metaphysical sense, but in a far more personal dimension. Subject exhibits an inexplicable gravitational pull, distinct from any gravitational force I've previously documented. When I observe her, I feel an uncharacteristic deviation in my thought patterns, an accelerated heartbeat not caused by heightened blood pressure or adrenaline, but by… attraction. Confounding. She’s somehow eclipsing the most rational parts of my mind.”

And, because Ford’s words can’t capture the whole of it, there’d be tiny sketches of you, like half-finished thoughts.

nsfw

what Stan says during sex:

“Damn, honey, you’re makin’ an old man feel young again. Don’t stop.”

“You’re makin’ me wanna be a better man, but not right now, baby, not right now.”  

“Mmm, there it is— yeahh, keep doin’ that. . . feels so good, darlin’, you got no idea.”

“Makin’ all these pretty noises, huh? Lemme hear ‘em, baby. Don’t hold back on me.”

“You’re somethin’ else, y’know that? I’m gonna be thinkin’ ‘bout that pussy all week.”  

“Fuckin’ hell, don’t know if I’m gonna last much longer with you doin’ that.”  

“Look at ya, so needy for me, beggin’ to be filled. You got me so riled up, I can barely think— ah, f-fuck. . .”

 Ford:

“Ohh— sweetheart, you feel even better than I imagined, i’ve waited for this.”  

“I need you so much it scares me.”  

“You’re brilliant, utterly captivating. . . yesyesyes, keep moving like that, please.”  

“Tell me exactly what you want, darlin, I need to hear you say it.”  

“I never thought I’d feel this way again; you’ve woken something in me.”  

“God, I can’t— can’t believe you’re letting me have you. I need you so much, it hurts.”

“Mmm, god, yes. . . yes, you’re mine, all mine. . . can’t believe I get to have you like this.”

“O-oh god, you feel so tight around me, sweetheart, I can’t-can’t hold back!”

“Please, oh, please— just, just like that, don’t stop, keep. . . keep going. . .”

“I can’t help myself; I need you. I want to feel you around me.”

“You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re like this. I can’t take my eyes off you.”

“Oh gosh, I need you to take me deeper. Please, baby.”

“Tell me how good it feels; I want to hear it.”

“You feel incredible. I could stay buried inside you forever.”

[skzstarl0ver]

⋆.˚✮𝗕𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝗧𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗼𝗼✮˚.⋆

Jungkook x reader / tattoo artist x client / one shot / smut

**involves!!** sexual content, tattoos/needles, consensual tension, dirty talk, body worship, cursing, praise kink

enjoy xx (open for request)

★.•☆•.★★.•☆•.★¸.•☆•.¸★ skzstarl0ver ★⡀.•☆•.★⡀.•☆•.★¸.•☆•.¸★

You weren’t even nervous when you walked into 'Black In' — the private tattoo studio hidden in a converted loft space downtown. You had done your research. You’d seen his work on Instagram: precise, flowing, artistic. What you weren’t prepared for was him.

Jeon Jungkook stood behind the counter, arms crossed, tattoos peeking from beneath a sleeveless black tank, a silver ring glinting from his lip, and his dark eyes swept over you like he already had plans.

“So,” he said, voice smooth and low, “you’re here for the back piece?”

You nodded, heart stammering as you handed over your design idea — a cool, sharp-looking design that goes across the back from one side to the other. His fingers brushed yours when he took the sketch. You felt that spark in your spine before the ink even touched skin.

He had you take off your shirt and bra in the private back room, handing you a towel to wrap around your front. The leather tattoo bed was cool against your skin, and the soft buzz of the machine started low, almost like anticipation humming in the air.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured near your ear, gloves snapping on. “I’ll take care of you.”

Your breath caught at the way he said it.

The first sting of the needle was sharp, but manageable. Jungkook’s hand was steady, his free palm sometimes resting at your hip or spine to keep you grounded. You weren’t sure what turned you on more — the pain-pleasure of the ink, or the soft praise he murmured every time you twitched.

“You’re doing so well,” he said once, breath hot against your bare shoulder. “So fucking beautiful like this.”

You whimpered, pressing your cheek into the padded table.

Halfway through, he paused. “Need a break?”

You nodded. He helped you sit up, towel slipping slightly. His gaze dropped, darkening — then met your eyes like he’d been waiting for a green light.

“You keep squirming like that, baby, and I’m gonna think you want more than a tattoo.”

Your breath hitched, heart hammering as his words settled over you like smoke. The towel clung to your front, barely covering anything. You felt his gaze drag across your skin — hungry, unhurried.

“And if I do?” you whispered.

Silence crackled between you. His gloves were off in seconds.

Jungkook stepped closer, one tattooed hand trailing up your spine, stopping just below the fresh ink. His touch didn’t press — just hovered, close enough to raise goosebumps. His other hand gently tilted your chin until your eyes met his.

“Then I need you to tell me right now,” he said, low and firm. “Do you want me to touch you, baby?”

“Yes,” you breathed, already arching toward him. “Please.”

That was all it took.

He kissed you — slow, claiming, tongue sliding into your mouth like he had all the time in the world. You whimpered against his lips as the towel slipped from your chest. His hands roamed, calloused fingers cupping your breasts, teasing the nipples until they peaked and a needy moan spilled from your throat.

“You sound so fucking sweet,” he groaned, biting down gently on your lower lip before kissing down your neck.

He guided you back onto the leather table, flat on your stomach. His lips trailed from the nape of your neck down your spine, careful to avoid the fresh lines of your tattoo. When he reached your lower back, he paused, large hands spreading your thighs open.

"Keep still for me," he murmured. "You said you trusted me to take care of you."

You nodded, trembling, already soaked.

Jungkook sank to his knees behind the table and pulled your hips to the edge. You gasped when his tongue touched you — soft, teasing strokes that turned quickly into firm, wet licks against your clit. His grip on your thighs tightened, holding you open as he feasted on you like he’d been starving for days.

You moaned his name, hands gripping the table, your hips rocking against his face. He sucked your clit just right — a filthy, perfect rhythm — then pulled back only to slap it gently, the sound echoing in the quiet studio.

“You taste so good,” he muttered against your folds. “Bet you’ve been thinking about this since you booked the appointment.”

You barely had time to answer before two of his fingers slid inside you, curling upward. You cried out, back arching, careful not to shift too much near the tattoo. Jungkook noticed, kissing your neck.

“I’ll be gentle with the ink, baby,” he said. “But the rest of you? Mine.”

He stood, undoing his jeans one-handed as he looked down at you, all flushed and panting on the table. You turned your head, watching the way he stroked himself — slow and thick, precum glistening at the tip.

He lined himself up behind you and leaned over your back, lips brushing your ear.

“Tell me you want it.”

“Jungkook,” you gasped, “please—fuck me.”

That was it.

He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, stretching you open. The burn was delicious. He groaned deep in his chest when he bottomed out, hands gripping your waist.

“So fucking tight,” he growled.

He set a rhythm — slow at first, deep and deliberate, every thrust rocking the table under you. You whimpered, your body already close from his mouth alone. He wrapped a hand around to rub your clit in time with his thrusts, voice hot against your shoulder.

“Let me hear you come,” he said. “Want to feel you fall apart on me.”

You did — gasping his name like a prayer, your thighs shaking, cunt clenching around him as your orgasm tore through you. Jungkook swore under his breath, fucking you through it until he was right there with you — pulsing hot and thick inside you with a low, satisfied groan.

He stayed there for a moment, breath heavy, hands stroking your hips like you were something precious.

Eventually, he pulled out gently, grabbing a clean towel and wiping you down. He was tender, even reverent, making sure not to touch the fresh tattoo. When he helped you sit up, he wrapped your towel back around you, then offered you a water bottle from the mini fridge nearby.

You blinked at him, dazed and blissed out.

“That a standard part of the aftercare routine?” you teased, voice hoarse.

He grinned — smug and gorgeous.

“No,” he said, handing you a card with his name and number scribbled across the back. “But I offer... custom packages for certain clients.”

[nevernonline]

✧.* the pages of us; jww

synopsis: Wonwoo, a quiet and introspective writer, stumbles upon The Reading Nook, a small, tucked-away bookstore owned by Y/N, a passionate book lover. their shared love for literature draws them together, but the secrets hidden within the bookstore’s collection may hold the key to both their futures.

paring: wonwoo x fem! reader. 

genre:strangers2whatever  

warning/s:mentions of substances (alcohol), death of a parent.

word count: 15k

content: . non-idol idolings

note: non rlly edited prob weird typos, xo. 

The autumn wind tugged at Wonwoo’s jacket as he walked aimlessly through unfamiliar streets. The world around him buzzed—cars honking, people chattering—but his mind was elsewhere, tangled in unwritten sentences and half-formed ideas. When he saw it, he stopped.  

Nestled between a bakery and a flower shop was a small bookstore, its wooden sign swinging gently in the breeze: The Reading Nook. The warm glow spilling through the windows beckoned him, promising sanctuary. Without hesitation, he stepped inside.  

A bell jingled as the door closed behind him, and the city’s noise melted away, replaced by the soft hum of jazz. The scent of aged paper and faintly spiced tea wrapped around him like a blanket. The space was a labyrinth of towering shelves, cozy armchairs, and scattered stacks of books.  

Behind the counter, a young woman sat perched on a stool, engrossed in a book. Her oversized sweater hung loosely around her frame, and a pencil peeked out from behind her ear. A steaming mug sat within arm’s reach. At the sound of the bell, she looked up, her eyes meeting Wonwoo’s.  

“Lost?” she asked, a hint of teasing in her tone.  

He hesitated. “Uh, No. Not really. I just needed a change of scenery.”  

Her smile widened. “Well, welcome to The Nook. Are you looking for something specific, or do you prefer letting the books choose you?”  

He shrugged, glancing around. “I’m not sure. Inspiration, maybe. I’m a writer. Or trying to be.”  

Her eyebrows lifted slightly. “A creative soul, then. I love to see it.” She closed her book with a soft thud and hopped off the stool. “Lucky for you, this place has a knack for unsticking writers. Come on.”  

She led him past rows of novels and poetry collections to a corner that seemed quieter, almost sacred. Pulling a worn book from the shelf, she handed it to him. “This one’s a personal favorite. It might be just what you need.”  

Wonwoo flipped through the pages, his fingers brushing the edges of faded paper. “Thanks,” he murmured, though something on a lower shelf caught his eye.  

“What’s that section?” he asked, pointing to a small, tucked-away shelf labeled Oddities & Curiosities.  

Her laugh was soft and warm. “Oh, that’s the fun shelf. A collection of random finds—some rare, some downright strange. Wait here.”  

She crouched down and pulled out a slim, weathered journal bound in dark leather. She placed it in his hands, her expression thoughtful. “This is special. It’s been here forever. People call it the Muse’s Journal. Writers seem to like it. It’s basically a sacred text.”  

The leather was cracked with age, the pages filled with scribbled notes, odd sketches, and cryptic messages in faded ink. One phrase in particular caught his eye:  

“Every ending is a beginning in disguise.”  

He ran his fingers over the words, as if they might dissolve. “This almost feels like it’s meant for me.”  

She watched him, her gaze softening. “It tends to have that effect.”  

Their eyes met for a brief moment, an unspoken understanding passing between them. Then she broke the spell, gesturing toward the counter.  

“Let me ring those up for you.”  

At the counter, she slipped a hand-drawn bookmark into the journal before sliding it toward him. “Consider this a welcome gift,” she said with a smile. “Don’t be a stranger—I want to hear how it goes.”  

He nodded, tucking the journal and bookmark into his bag. “Thanks... Y/N,” he said, glancing at the nameplate on the counter.  

The bell jingled as he stepped out into the crisp autumn air. Inside, Y/N lingered by the counter, her fingers brushing the edge of her mug. She found herself wondering about the quiet writer who had wandered in, carrying stories he wasn’t ready to tell.  

Wonwoo’s apartment was small and spare, its corners cluttered with books and scattered drafts of his unfinished manuscript. The city hummed outside, but within the four walls, it was quiet—too quiet. He dropped his bag onto the table and pulled out the journal Y/N had given him, the leather cover cool under his fingertips.

He opened it carefully, the faint scent of old paper filling the room. The handwriting inside was uneven, a mix of bold, confident strokes and faint, hurried scrawls. Sketches of stars and swirling patterns filled the margins, and snippets of phrases seemed to leap from the pages:

To find the ending, look within.

Time folds like pages.

You already know the answer.

Near the middle, he found a folded scrap of paper tucked between the pages. Carefully, he opened it. Written in the same hurried scrawl were the words:

The key lies where the light breaks.

Wonwoo tilted his head, puzzled. It felt like a puzzle piece, disconnected but tantalizing. He sat down at his desk, pulled out his laptop, and opened the document containing his manuscript. His fingers hovered over the keyboard.

For weeks, he’d stared at this screen, unable to write. But now, the words in the journal buzzed in his mind, stirring something deep within. He scrolled to the last paragraph of his story and began to type. Slowly at first, then faster.

The narrative began to flow, his characters moving through the scenes as if they’d been waiting for him to find his way back. The world outside faded as Wonwoo lost himself in the story.

The bell above the door jingled softly as Wonwoo stepped into The Reading Nook for the second time. It was raining outside, the kind of steady drizzle that dampened everything except his resolve to return. He shook off his umbrella by the door and glanced toward the counter, where Y/N was scribbling something in a notebook.

She looked up at the sound of the bell, her expression shifting from focus to a faint smile. “Back already?”

Wonwoo shrugged, setting his messenger bag on the counter. “The journal,” he said simply, pulling it out and sliding it toward her. “It’s... strange, but I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s like it knows what I need to hear before I do.”

Y/N’s fingers brushed the journal as she picked it up, her movements slow, almost reverent. “That’s what people say about it,” she replied, her tone measured. “It has a way of finding the right person.”

Wonwoo tilted his head, catching the flicker of something in her voice—hesitation, or maybe unease. “You’ve had it for a long time, haven’t you?”

She nodded, her gaze lowering to the journal. “It was one of my mother’s finds. She used to say every book had a soul, but this one...” She trailed off, her expression softening as if caught in a memory. “This one feels alive.”

Wonwoo hesitated before asking, “And the notes inside? Like this one.” He unfolded the small slip of paper he’d found tucked in the pages. “What’s ‘where the light breaks’ supposed to mean?”

For a moment, Y/N’s guard slipped, her brows knitting together in a way that told him she knew more than she was letting on. Then, just as quickly, she recovered, flashing him an enigmatic smile. “Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe it’s a metaphor. Writers love their metaphors, don’t they?”

Wonwoo gave a small laugh, though her deflection left him unconvinced. He decided not to press further, sensing that whatever secrets she was guarding weren’t ready to be shared.

“Mind if I stick around for a while?” he asked, changing the subject.

Y/N gestured toward the back of the store. “Go ahead. There’s some nice spots in the back corner by the staircase.”

Wonwoo found his favorite armchair nestled in the back corner of the store, near a shelf overflowing with worn poetry collections and dog-eared philosophy books. He placed the journal on the small table beside him and opened his laptop.

As the hours slipped by, the steady rhythm of rain against the windows created the perfect backdrop for writing. Y/N occasionally passed by, carrying stacks of books to reshelve or pausing to check in on him.

“How’s it going?” she asked during one of her rounds.

He glanced up, smiling faintly. “Better. The words are coming easier today. It’s strange—I haven’t felt this focused in weeks.”

Y/N arched a brow, setting a mug of tea on the table beside him. “Maybe it’s the bookstore’s magic,” she said lightly, though there was a touch of sincerity in her voice.

“Maybe,” he agreed, taking a sip of the tea. It was spiced and warm, the perfect antidote to the cold rain outside.

Y/N leaned against the edge of the shelf, her arms crossed. “What’s the problem anyway? Plot? Characters? Dialogue?”

“All of it,” he replied, gesturing helplessly at the screen. “It’s like I’ve forgotten how to write.”

She tilted her head thoughtfully. “Want to try an exercise? Something I do when I’m in a creative rut?”

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow. “You write?”

“I dabble,” she said with a shrug, though a faint blush crept up her cheeks. “Mostly for myself. But the exercise works. Close your laptop.”

He hesitated but followed her instruction, snapping the laptop shut.

“Now,” she continued, “pick a random object in the room. Anything.”

Wonwoo glanced around, his gaze landing on an antique globe sitting on a nearby shelf. “That.”

“Perfect,” Y/N said, pulling up a chair and sitting across from him. “Tell me about the person who owns it. What do they do? Where have they been? What’s their story?”

Wonwoo blinked, caught off guard by the simplicity of the prompt. Slowly, he began to speak. “They’re... an explorer. Someone who’s seen the world but is always looking for something they can’t quite find. Maybe it’s a place, or a feeling, or—”

“A person,” Y/N interjected softly, her eyes meeting his.

“Yeah,” he agreed, his voice quieter. “A person.”

They shared a small smile before Y/N stood, brushing her hands on her sweater. “See? You’re not blocked—you’re just overthinking. Write like that, without the pressure.”

Their conversations began to spill beyond writing. That evening, after the store had emptied out, Y/N brought over not two mugs of tea this time, but two glasses of whiskey chilled with a thick cut ball of ice and sat beside him in his corner.

“What’s your story, Wonwoo?” she asked, breaking the companionable silence.

“My story?” he repeated, taking a sip of the drink to buy time.

“Yeah,” she said, tucking her legs beneath her. “You know all these characters and worlds, but what about you? What made you want to write in the first place?”

He hesitated, her question striking a chord. “I think It’s the only way I know how to make sense of things. Of people. Writing lets me put the world into words, even when it doesn’t make sense in real life.”

“That’s beautiful,” she said softly.

He gave her a shy smile, unused to such direct praise. “What about you? Why books?”

Y/N leaned back in her chair, her gaze drifting to the shelves around them. “Books were my escape growing up. My mom used to say a good story could take you anywhere, even if you couldn’t leave where you were. She started this place so people could find those stories.”

“Did you always know you’d take over?” Wonwoo asked.

“Not at first,” she admitted, tracing the rim of her mug. “I thought I’d do something else, but when she passed, I realized how much of her was here. Keeping the store alive felt like keeping her alive, too.”

Her voice wavered slightly, and Wonwoo reached out instinctively, his hand brushing hers. “She’d be proud of you,” he said gently.

Y/N looked at him, her eyes shining with gratitude. “Thanks, Wonwoo. That means a lot. To creative breakthroughs,” she said, raising her glass.

“And to mysterious journals,” Wonwoo added with a smirk, clinking his glass against hers.

The whiskey was smooth, warming him from the inside out. He leaned back in his chair, feeling the tension of the day melt away.

“Once,” Y/N said, swirling the amber liquid in her glass, “a guy came in asking if we sold books printed on edible paper. Said he wanted to consume knowledge literally.”

Wonwoo laughed, nearly spilling his drink. “Did you find him anything?”

“I tried to sell him a cookbook. He wasn’t amused.”

He shook his head, still grinning. “This place must be full of stories.”

“It is,” she said, her voice softer now. “But not just the ones on the shelves.”

“What do you mean? 

Y/n smiled, shaking her head slightly. “I feel like all of my core memories were here. WIth my mom. With customers just like you, I read about sex for the first time here with my friends just spending our day giggling at the words, I had my birthday parties here, all of that. When I was younger I thought there was something hiding beneath the walls of the bookshelves like a treasure hunt. I even drew my own map, all of it. It’s just something special.” 

Wonwoo’s grin softened as he leaned back in his chair, his glass of whiskey resting loosely in his hand. He took in Y/N’s wistful expression, the way her eyes shimmered with nostalgia. “That’s really beautiful,” he said, his voice quieter now. “It sounds like this place has always been more than just a bookstore for you.”  

Y/N laughed softly, a touch of self-consciousness in her tone. “Yeah, it’s kind of silly, isn’t it? Most people probably see it as just another store, but to me…” She gestured around them, her hand sweeping across the shelves and corners bathed in golden light. “It’s everything. A home, a memory box, a time machine, even.”  

“You made a treasure map?” he asked, his lips twitching into an amused smile.  

“Oh, yeah,” Y/N said, her cheeks flushing. She sat up straighter, miming the act of unrolling a scroll. “I was convinced there were secret passages hidden in the walls or, like, a chest buried under the floorboards. I even roped my friends into searching for hours. We’d sneak around with flashlights after the store closed, trying not to get caught.”  

“Did you ever find anything?” Wonwoo asked, playing along.  

She smiled mischievously. “Well, I did find an old tin box stuffed behind a loose board in the back. Turned out to be a stash of my mom’s notes and doodles from when she was designing the store. She’d drawn all these little floor plans and written these whimsical ideas for themed sections. It was like finding a treasure, but instead of gold, it was her imagination.”  

Wonwoo’s brows lifted in surprise. “That sounds even better than gold.”  

“Yeah,” Y/N murmured, her voice softer now. “It was.”  

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The store felt alive around them, the silence filled with the weight of its stories. Wonwoo glanced toward the rows of shelves, his gaze lingering on their uneven, timeworn edges.  

“You’ve spent your whole life here,” he said finally, his tone contemplative. “It’s like you and this place are woven together.”  

Y/N tilted her head, studying him. “You say that like it’s a good thing.”  

“Isn’t it?” he asked, his dark eyes meeting hers. “You’ve built something that carries so much meaning—not just for you, but for everyone who steps through that door. I mean, look at me. I was completely lost, and this place pulled me in. It’s rare.”  

Her smile returned, small but genuine. “You really think so?”  

He nodded without hesitation. “I do. And I think your mom would be proud of what you’ve done with it.”  

Y/N’s fingers tightened around her glass for a moment, her gaze dropping to the amber liquid inside. “That means a lot.”  

She leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on her knees. “What about you, though? What’s your version of a treasure map? Did you ever have a place like this growing up?”  

Wonwoo paused, considering the question. “Not really. My family moved around a lot, so I never had the chance to get attached to any one place. But I guess that’s why books became so important to me. They were the only constant.”  

“Did you have a favorite?”  

He chuckled, the sound soft and low. “I had a beat-up copy of The Little Prince. I carried it everywhere. The pages were falling out by the time I hit high school, but I couldn’t let it go. It felt like it understood me in a way nothing else did.”  

Y/N smiled, her eyes lighting up. “That’s one of my favorites too. It’s so simple, but it stays with you.”  

“Yeah,” he said, his expression turning thoughtful. “I think that’s what I want my writing to do. I want someone to pick up my book and feel the way I felt holding that one—like it’s speaking directly to them.”  

“That’s a pretty amazing goal,” Y/N said. “And if your manuscript is anything like the pieces I’ve seen you scribble on napkins around here, you’re on your way.”  

Wonwoo laughed, feeling his cheeks heat under her praise. “Well, that’s high praise coming from the owner of the coziest, most magical bookstore in the city.”  

“Oh, we’re the only magical bookstore in the city,” Y/N quipped, raising her glass in mock toast.  

“Fair enough,” Wonwoo said, clinking his glass against hers again.  

The night deepened, the whiskey bottle slowly emptying as their conversation wandered from books to music, from childhood memories to dreams they hadn’t dared to share before. The air between them grew warmer, the initial reserve giving way to an easy intimacy.  

By the time the clock struck midnight, Y/N found herself leaning against the arm of her chair, her head resting on her hand as she watched Wonwoo animatedly describe a scene from his favorite film. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so at ease with someone.  

Wonwoo caught her gaze and paused mid-sentence, his smile softening. “What?”  

“Nothing,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “Just you talk about stories like they’re alive. It’s nice.”  

He tilted his head, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, with a quiet sincerity, he said, “I think it’s because they are. And you—you’re part of why I’m starting to believe in them again.”  

Her breath caught, the weight of his words settling in her chest. For once, she didn’t know what to say, so she simply smiled, the corners of her lips curving upward as warmth spread through her.  

Outside, the rain began again, tapping lightly against the windows, as if the universe itself were trying to write the next chapter of their story.  

The clock on the wall chimed softly, breaking the stillness. Y/N glanced at it and sighed. “We should probably call it a night. I have to open up in the morning.”

“Right,” Wonwoo said, though he was reluctant to leave.

As he gathered his things, Y/N walked him to the door, her steps slow.

“Thanks for staying,” she said as he shrugged on his coat.

“Thanks for the whiskey,” he replied with a smile. “And for letting me hijack your bookstore every day.”

“You’re not hijacking it,” she said, her tone warm. “You’re just  adding to its story.”

He paused, her words settling in his chest like a quiet truth. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Wonwoo.”

As he stepped out into the cool night, he couldn’t help but glance back at the softly glowing windows of The Reading Nook, already looking forward to returning to its quiet magic—and to her—tomorrow.

The morning at the store was unusually busy, with regulars and passersby drifting in and out. The faint hum of chatter and the occasional scrape of chairs filled the air, blending with the soft jazz playing from the speakers. Y/N moved easily between the shelves, offering recommendations and ringing up purchases with her usual calm efficiency.

Wonwoo arrived just past noon, carrying the journal tucked under his arm. He pushed the door open and was greeted by the cheerful jingle of the entry bell. Y/N, stationed behind the counter, looked up and gave him a warm smile.

“Back so soon?” she teased.

“Couldn’t stay away,” he replied, returning her smile as he made his way to his usual spot in the back corner.

But today, instead of pulling out his laptop, Wonwoo placed the journal on the table and opened it. His fingers traced the faint ink of the unfamiliar handwriting as he flipped through the pages, his brows furrowed in concentration.

After the rush died down, Y/N joined him, carrying two steaming cups of coffee. She placed one beside him and leaned against the edge of the table. “You’ve been staring at that thing all week,” she said, nodding at the journal. “What the hell is so fascinating about it?”

Wonwoo looked up, his expression thoughtful. “It’s strange. The more I read it, the more it feels like the writer was leaving clues for someone, almost like they wanted to be found.”

Y/N’s curiosity piqued. She pulled up a chair, sitting across from him. “What kind of clues?”

He turned the journal toward her, pointing to a section where a paragraph had been underlined. “Here, for example. The writer talks about a ‘hidden heart’ beneath the shelves, something meant to outlast them. And here—” He flipped a few pages, showing her a sketch of what looked like a rough map. “This is a drawing of something, but I can’t figure out what. It’s like they were mapping out a part of the store.”

Y/N leaned closer, her brow furrowing. “Let me see that.” She studied the map, her fingers brushing the edges of the page. The sketch showed a series of lines and rectangles, vaguely resembling the layout of the bookstore, with an X marked near the back wall.

“That’s... odd,” she murmured. “It does look like the store, but this corner doesn’t exist anymore. My mom remodeled years ago to add the café section.”

“Could there be something behind the wall?” Wonwoo asked, his voice low with intrigue.

Y/N bit her lip, considering the possibility. “Maybe. But I don’t remember her ever mentioning anything like that.”

They spent the next hour poring over the journal together, comparing the map to the store’s current layout and trying to piece together the cryptic notes scribbled in the margins. Phrases like “For the dreamers who wander” and “Seek, and you will find” were scattered throughout, written in a looping, elegant script.

“This feels like something out of one of your novels,” Y/N said, glancing at Wonwoo with a small smile.

“I know,” he replied, his excitement evident. “It’s almost too perfect.”

“But if there’s something hidden, why hasn’t anyone found it before?”

“That’s what we need to figure out,” he said, standing abruptly. “Where’s that back corner? The one your mom remodeled?”

Y/N hesitated but stood as well, leading him toward the café section. They stopped in front of the wall that now housed shelves of cookbooks and travel guides.

“This is where the X would be,” she said, gesturing toward space. “But if there’s anything back there, it’s been sealed up for years.”

Wonwoo ran his hand along the wooden paneling, his expression thoughtful. “It wouldn’t hurt to check, right?”

Y/N disappeared into the back room and returned with a small step ladder and a flashlight. Together, they began carefully inspecting the wall, knocking on the panels and listening for any hollow sounds.

“Here,” Wonwoo said after a few minutes, tapping on a spot near the floor. The sound was noticeably different, dull and hollow compared to the rest.

Y/N crouched beside him, her heart pounding with a mix of excitement and apprehension. “You think that’s it?”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

They worked together to carefully remove the lower panel, revealing a small recess hidden behind it. Inside was an old, dust-covered wooden box, no bigger than a shoebox.

Y/N’s breath hitched. “Oh my God.”

Wonwoo reached in and gently pulled the box out, placing it on the floor between them. It was heavy, the wood worn and etched with faint carvings of stars and vines. A small latch held it shut.

“Do we open it?” he asked, looking at Y/N.

She nodded, her hands trembling slightly. “We have to.”

As Y/N stared at the box and its mysterious contents, a nagging thought began to creep into her mind. She looked at the map again, then at the journal, then at Wonwoo. Her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Wait a second,” she said, her tone suddenly sharp. “You’re messing with me, aren’t you?”

Wonwoo blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“This.” she gestured at the journal and the box, her voice rising slightly. “This whole... treasure hunt. It’s because I told you about my stupid childhood treasure map last night, isn’t it?”

“What? No fucking way.” Wonwoo said, his brows knitting together in confusion.

Y/N stood and crossed her arms, glaring down at him. “It’s just too convenient, okay? You show up here with this mystical, cryptic journal I gave you, right after I tell you how I used to dream about finding treasure in this store. And now, look. We’ve ‘found’ a hidden box in the wall? What are the odds of that, Wonwoo?”

Her words hit him like a slap, and he rose to his feet, looking genuinely hurt. “Y/N, I’m not making this up,” he said, his voice steady but defensive. “Why would I even go through all this trouble just to mess with you?”

“I don’t know.” she snapped, throwing her hands in the air. “You’re a writer. Maybe you thought it’d be funny, or it’d give you material for your next book?”

“Seriously?” he asked, his tone incredulous. “You really think I’d fake something like this? For what? A laugh?”

Y/N hesitated, suddenly unsure. Her anger fizzled as quickly as it had flared, leaving behind an uncomfortable mix of embarrassment and guilt. She bit her lip and glanced at the box again, its contents undeniably real.

“Well,” she muttered, her voice quieter now. “It just seems too perfect. Like something out of one of your stories.”

Wonwoo sighed and ran a hand through his hair, his expression softening. “I get it. It does feel like something out of a book. But that’s what makes it so amazing, Y/N. It’s real.”

She looked at him, searching his face for any sign of deception. But all she saw was sincerity—the kind that made her chest tighten.

“I’m sorry,” she said finally, her voice small. “It’s just…this place means a lot to me, and I guess I got defensive.”

“It’s okay,” he said gently. “I get why you’d be suspicious. But I promise, this journal, this box—it’s as much of a surprise to me as it is to you.”

Y/N let out a shaky breath and sat back down, feeling the tension drain from her shoulders. “I guess I owe you the benefit of the doubt,” she said with a sheepish smile. “You’re not exactly the pranking type.”

“Thank you,” Wonwoo replied, his lips quivering into a small smile. “Although now I kind of wish I had thought of this. It’s a pretty great story.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched. “Don’t push it.”

Inside the box, they found an assortment of items: a stack of faded letters tied with a silk ribbon, a small leather pouch filled with pressed flowers, and a single gold key. At the very bottom was a handwritten note on yellowed paper.

Y/N picked it up and unfolded it carefully, her eyes scanning the elegant script.

“For those who cherish stories: The heart of the dreamer lies not in the treasure itself, but in the act of seeking. May you find what you didn’t know you were looking for.”

The note was signed with her mother’s name.

Y/N stared at the signature, her throat tightening. “She left this here,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Wonwoo placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “She wanted you to find it.”

Y/N blinked back tears and looked at him. “But what does it mean? The key, the letters... What was she trying to tell me?”

“I don’t know,” Wonwoo said softly, “but I think we’re only just beginning to understand the story.”

They sat there in the quiet of the bookstore, the mystery unfolding around them like the opening pages of a long-lost novel. The key glinted in the soft light, a silent invitation to continue the journey.

After a moment of silence, she reached for the journal again, turning it over in her hands. “So... if you’re not messing with me, what do you think this all means? The key, the letters, the note...”

“I don’t know,” Wonwoo admitted, crouching beside the box once more. “But I think your mom was trying to leave you something—not just in the literal sense, but maybe a piece of herself. Maybe she wanted you to find it when you were ready.”

Y/N’s gaze softened, her fingers brushing over the note. “She always did love a good mystery.”

“Well, lucky for you, you’ve got a mystery writer here to help,” Wonwoo said with a grin, trying to lighten the mood.

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head. “All right, detective. Where do we start?”

Wonwoo held up the gold key, letting it catch the light. “With this,” he said simply.

The gold key gleamed under the soft light of the bookstore, its intricate details catching Y/N’s eye. It was old, heavy in Wonwoo’s hand as he turned it over thoughtfully.

“So,” he began, “any idea what this might go to?”

Y/N shook her head, her brow furrowing as she stared at the key. “Not really. It’s not from the register, or the front door, and it doesn’t look like any of the locks I’ve seen around here. It’s  too decorative.”

Wonwoo placed the key on the table, its metallic clink filling the quiet space. “Could it belong to something in the back room? Maybe there’s an old chest or cabinet hidden back there.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly. “There is an old storage cabinet in the back, but it’s just filled with leftover inventory and random junk. I don’t think it even has a lock anymore.”

“Well,” Wonwoo said, standing up and grabbing the key, “let’s find out.”

The two of them moved through the store, weaving between shelves and heading toward the back room. Y/N flipped on the overhead light, revealing a space cluttered with boxes, stacks of old books, and various odds and ends that had accumulated over the years.

“There,” she said, pointing toward a tall wooden cabinet tucked against the far wall. It was scratched and weathered, its once-polished surface dulled by time.

Wonwoo approached it, crouching to examine the hardware. “Looks like it used to have a keyhole, but it’s been replaced with this newer latch.” He stood and glanced around the room. “What else could it fit?”

Y/N frowned, scanning the room. Then her gaze landed on an old wooden chest half-buried beneath a pile of dusty books. Her heart skipped a beat. “That,” she said, gesturing toward it. “It used to belong to my mom. I haven’t opened it in years.”

Wonwoo crossed to the chest and carefully cleared the books away, revealing its ornate design. It was carved with swirling patterns and faint images of stars and moons—details that mirrored the etchings on the box they’d found.

“This has to be it,” he said, his voice low with anticipation.

Y/N knelt beside him, her hands trembling slightly as she handed him the key. “Go ahead,” she said.

Wonwoo hesitated for a moment, then slid the key into the lock. It fit perfectly, turning with a satisfying click. The lid creaked as he lifted it, revealing the chest’s contents:

Inside was a collection of items that seemed to have been frozen in time. There were stacks of faded photographs, a leather-bound notebook, and a small music box. Among them was a sealed envelope with Y/N’s name written in her mother’s handwriting.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. She reached for the envelope, her fingers brushing the paper lightly before pulling it free.

“Are you okay?” Wonwoo asked gently.

She nodded, though her hands were shaking as she opened the letter.

The letter was written in the same elegant script as the note they’d found earlier. Y/N’s eyes scanned the words, her voice barely above a whisper as she read aloud:

"My dearest Y/N, If you’re reading this, it means you’ve found the box and followed the clues. I always knew you would—your curiosity has always been your greatest strength. This store is more than a place for books; it’s a sanctuary for dreamers, just like you.

The chest holds pieces of my story, but it’s also a reminder to create your own. The key isn’t just for unlocking the past—it’s for opening doors to the future. Keep seeking, keep dreaming, and never stop believing in the magic of stories.

With all my love, Mom.”

Y/N’s voice broke as she finished the letter, tears streaming down her cheeks. She wiped at her eyes, laughing softly. “She always did have a flair for the dramatic.”

Wonwoo smiled, his own eyes glassy. “She sounds like an incredible woman.”

“She was,” Y/N said, clutching the letter to her chest. “And somehow, she still is.”

They spent the next hour carefully going through the chest. The photographs captured moments from her mother’s life: her standing in front of the bookstore on opening day, laughing with friends at a party, and sitting cross-legged on the floor surrounded by books, her smile bright and full of life.

The notebook turned out to be her mother’s journal, filled with musings about the store, her dreams for its future, and even sketches of book displays.

But it was the music box that brought the most unexpected surprise. When Y/N wound it up and opened it, a soft, haunting melody filled the room. Beneath the mechanism was a small, folded piece of paper.

Wonwoo picked it up and unfolded it, his brow furrowing. “It’s another map,” he said, holding it up for Y/N to see.

This one was simpler than the first, but it clearly pointed to a specific section of the bookstore: the poetry aisle.

“Of course,” Y/N said, shaking her head with a teary laugh. “That was her favorite section.”

“Looks like the treasure hunt isn’t over,” Wonwoo said, his smile growing.

Y/N glanced at him, her heart swelling with gratitude. “You really are enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Are you kidding?” he said, standing and offering her his hand. “This is the best story I’ve been part of in years.”

Y/N took his hand, letting him pull her to her feet. “Then let’s go see what else she left behind.”

The poetry section was nestled in one of the coziest corners of The Reading Nook, lit by warm, golden light from an antique floor lamp. The shelves were crammed with well-loved volumes, their spines a kaleidoscope of faded colors. Y/N and Wonwoo crouched together, studying the map they’d found in the music box.

“It’s pointing right here,” Wonwoo said, tapping a spot on the map that corresponded to a low shelf at the far end of the aisle. “You think there’s something hidden behind the books?”

“Only one way to find out,” Y/N murmured, already reaching for a stack of slim poetry collections. She began pulling them off the shelf, careful not to damage the fragile covers.

Wonwoo joined in, working methodically as the gap widened. Behind the books, they found an old wooden panel, its edges rough and worn. A faint carving was etched into the wood—a heart with an arrow through it.

Y/N ran her fingers over the carving, her pulse quickening. “This has to be it,” she whispered. “It matches the note in the journal about the ‘hidden heart.’”

“Is it loose?” Wonwoo asked, leaning in closer.

Y/N pushed gently on the panel, and it gave way with a soft creak, revealing a small compartment. Inside was a folded piece of parchment and a brass locket.

She carefully picked up the parchment and unfolded it, her eyes scanning the page. Before she could fully process what it said, the jingle of the front doorbell shattered the quiet.

“Y/N?”

The voice was sharp, authoritative, and instantly recognizable. Y/N froze, her blood running cold. She turned slowly to see her estranged aunt, Evelyn, standing at the entrance to the poetry aisle. Evelyn was tall and impeccably dressed, her tailored coat and polished heels making her look as though she belonged in a boardroom rather than a cozy bookstore.

“Who’s that?” Wonwoo asked softly, sensing her sudden tension.  

“My aunt,” Y/N muttered, her voice tight. “And she doesn’t visit for small talk.”  

Footsteps echoed down the aisle before Evelyn appeared, impeccably dressed in a dark tailored coat and stilettos that clicked sharply against the hardwood. Behind her trailed a man in a crisp gray suit, carrying a leather briefcase. His expression was unreadable but efficient, like a man who had won many battles in court.  

Evelyn’s sharp gaze fell immediately on Y/N, then flicked to Wonwoo and the cleared shelf. Her lips twisted into a thin, mirthless smile. “Well, this is quite the scene,” she said. “Still playing your little bookstore games, I see.”  

“What do you want, Evelyn?” Y/N asked, her tone defensive as she stood, tucking the parchment behind her back. Wonwoo quickly picked up the locket and slipped it into his pocket, his movements discreet.  

Evelyn gestured to the man beside her. “This is Mr. Calloway, my attorney. I brought him here to settle some legal matters concerning this store.”  

“Legal matters?” Y/N repeated, her stomach knotting.  

“Correct,” Calloway said, his voice as polished as his appearance. He opened his briefcase and produced a stack of papers, handing them to Evelyn.  

Evelyn stepped closer, holding the documents out to Y/N. “This property is not yours outright, dear. It belongs to the family, and I’m here to claim my share. Effective immediately, I’ll be taking ownership and moving forward with plans to redevelop this space into something profitable. The bookstore has had its time.”  

Y/N’s jaw tightened as she refused to take the papers. “You can’t just walk in here and take the store. My mother left it to me.”  

Evelyn gave a small, cold laugh. “Your mother left behind a mess. Do you have any idea how much debt this place is in? How much is it bleeding every month? I’m doing you a favor, Y/N. You can’t save this place—it’s a relic.”  

Wonwoo stepped forward, his expression calm but his voice firm. “With all due respect, ma’am, this place is more than just a business. It’s a community hub, a home for people who need it.”  

Evelyn’s eyes flicked to him, her disdain palpable. “And who, exactly, are you?”  

“Wonwoo,” he said, offering a polite nod. “I’m a writer, and I’ve been spending a lot of time here. Enough to know how much this store means—not just to Y/N, but to the people who come here.”  

“Another dreamer,” Evelyn muttered, shaking her head. She turned back to Y/N, her expression hardening. “You can surround yourself with all the idealists you want, but it won’t change the facts. I’ve already spoken to the developers, and they’re eager to get started. Your little bookstore is standing in the way of progress.”  

“I won’t let you do this,” Y/N said, her voice trembling but resolute. “This place isn’t just mine—it’s my mother’s legacy. You have no right to take it away.”  

Calloway cleared his throat, his tone measured. “Legally speaking, your aunt does have a valid claim. Without a specific stipulation in the will granting you sole ownership, the property reverts to shared family rights. Evelyn has chosen to exercise her claim.”  

Y/N’s heart sank, but before she could respond, Wonwoo stepped in again. “That’s interesting,” he said, his voice smooth. “Because we just found something that might make things a bit more complicated.”  

Evelyn’s sharp gaze locked onto him. “What do you mean?”  

Wonwoo shot Y/N a subtle glance, silently urging her to trust him. “I mean, Y/N’s mom left behind a lot of things in this store. Memories, letters, documents. Who’s to say there isn’t something legally binding among them?”  

Y/N caught on quickly, her hand tightening around the parchment. “That’s right. My mom was meticulous—she wouldn’t leave this place unprotected.”  

Evelyn’s confident facade faltered for a split second, but she quickly recovered. “If you have something concrete, I suggest you present it to a lawyer,” she said coolly. “Until then, this store is mine to do with as I please.”  

Wonwoo moved to stand between Y/N and Evelyn, his posture calm but firm. “You’re not taking anything today. Not until we’ve had a chance to go through everything and get legal advice of our own.”  

Evelyn’s eyes narrowed. “You think you can stall me?”  

“Not stall,” he said, his voice steady. “Protect what’s rightfully hers until the truth comes out.”  

There was a tense silence before Evelyn sighed dramatically, turning on her heel. “You have 48 hours to present proof. After that, I’m filing the necessary paperwork to take control.” She glanced over her shoulder, her gaze icy. “Don’t waste my time.”  

She strode out of the store, Calloway following closely behind. The doorbell jingled sharply as it shut behind them.  

Y/N slumped against the shelf, her breath coming in shallow gasps. “She’s serious,” she whispered. “She’s really going to try to take this place.”  

“She won’t,” Wonwoo said firmly, pulling the locket from his pocket. “Because we’re going to find out exactly what your mom left behind. And if there’s even the slightest chance this parchment can stop her, we’re using it.”  

Y/N straightened, her resolve hardening. “She’s not taking this store, Wonwoo. I don’t care what it takes.”  

He smiled faintly. “That’s the spirit. Now, let’s figure out what else your mom wanted you to find.”  

Together, they returned to the hidden compartment, determined to uncover the secrets that would save the bookstore.

The tension from Evelyn’s visit still lingered as Y/N and Wonwoo returned to the poetry aisle. Y/N’s hands shook slightly as she gently unfolded the parchment again, staring at her mother’s handwriting. Wonwoo sat beside her, leaning closer to read over her shoulder.  

The note was more cryptic than her mother’s previous messages, written in elegant script:  

"Look for the words that open doors.  

Find the book where the stars meet the sea,  

And inside, you’ll discover the key to everything."

Y/N exhaled sharply, brushing her hair out of her face. “What does that even mean? ‘The stars meet the sea’? It sounds like a riddle.”  

“It is a riddle,” Wonwoo said thoughtfully, his brows furrowing as he studied the note. “But it’s also specific. Think about your mom—did she ever talk about a particular book that had something to do with stars or the sea?”  

Y/N hesitated, her eyes scanning the shelves around them. “She loved poetry. And she had a way of finding meaning in everything. If this is a reference to a book, it’s probably one she treasured.”  

Wonwoo stood and began browsing the nearby shelves, running his fingers along the spines. “What about the ones she kept separate from the main inventory? Rare or personal copies?”  

Y/N’s eyes lit up. “The display case in the main room. She kept her favorite editions there.”  

The two of them hurried to the display case, a vintage piece with glass panels that housed a carefully curated selection of books. Y/N unlocked it with a small key she kept on her necklace, the faint scent of old paper wafting out as she opened it.  

“‘Stars meet the sea,’” Wonwoo murmured, scanning the titles. His gaze stopped on a slim, navy-blue book with a constellation design embossed on the cover. Where the Stars Meet the Sea, it read.  

“This has to be it,” Y/N said, reaching for the book. She opened it slowly, her breath catching as something fluttered out from between the pages and landed on the glass.  

It was a folded piece of parchment, similar to the others, but heavier this time. Wonwoo picked it up carefully, unfolding it to reveal a sketched blueprint.  

“This... is a layout of the store,” Y/N said, her eyes widening as she recognized the familiar shape of the rooms and shelves.  

Wonwoo pointed to a section marked with an X near the back of the building. “What’s here?”  

“That’s the storage closet,” Y/N said, frowning. “I’ve been there a million times. There’s nothing special about it.”  

“Maybe there is,” Wonwoo said, already heading toward the back. “Your mom clearly wanted you to find something, and I don’t think she’d send you on a wild goose chase.”  

The storage closet was cramped and cluttered, packed with old boxes and supplies. Y/N and Wonwoo worked side by side to clear the space, uncovering the back wall. That’s when Y/N noticed something strange: a faint seam in the wood paneling.  

“There’s something behind this,” she said, brushing dust off the edges.  

Wonwoo grabbed a nearby screwdriver and began prying the panel loose. It took some effort, but eventually, the panel gave way, revealing a hidden compartment built into the wall.  

Inside was a small wooden box, secured with a delicate latch. Y/N’s hands trembled as she unfastened it, revealing a stack of letters tied with a ribbon, along with an aged leather journal.  

“These are my mom’s,” Y/N said, her voice breaking. She picked up the journal, flipping through the pages filled with her mother’s familiar handwriting. “It’s... it’s like she’s talking to me again.”  

Wonwoo watched her quietly for a moment before speaking. “I think we should take a break. You’ve been through a lot today.”  

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes still glistening with unshed tears. “But there’s so much to—”  

“Later,” Wonwoo interrupted gently. “Let’s take a minute to breathe. You’re not alone in this, Y/N. We’ll figure it out together.”  

She hesitated but eventually nodded. “Okay. You’re right.”  

Back in the main room, Wonwoo took it upon himself to lighten the mood. While Y/N sat curled up in one of the armchairs, he went to the small kitchenette in the back of the store. A few minutes later, he returned with two glasses of wine and a plate of crackers and cheese he had found in the pantry.  

“Wine and snacks,” he said with a soft smile, setting the tray down on the coffee table. “It’s not much, but I figured you could use something to take the edge off.”  

Y/N laughed softly, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. “You really didn’t have to do this.”  

“I wanted to,” he said simply, handing her a glass.  

They sat in companionable silence for a while, sipping their wine. The quiet hum of the store enveloped them, warm and comforting.  

“This place really is magic,” Wonwoo said eventually, his voice soft.  

Y/N glanced at him, her heart tugging at the sincerity in his expression. “You think so?”  

He nodded, meeting her gaze. “It’s not just the books or the memories. It’s you. The way you talk about this place, the way you care about it... it’s inspiring.”  

Y/N felt her cheeks warm, her fingers tightening around her glass. “You’re just saying that.”  

“I’m not,” he said firmly. “You make this place what it is, Y/N. Your mom might have started it, but you’ve kept its heart alive. And I think that’s worth fighting for.”  

Her throat tightened at his words, and she managed a small, grateful smile. “Thank you, Wonwoo. For everything.”  

“Always,” he said, his voice low and steady.  

For the first time that day, Y/N felt a flicker of hope. Whatever secrets her mother had left behind—and whatever battles lay ahead—she wasn’t facing them alone. And that made all the difference.  

Y/N leaned back in the armchair, swirling the last sip of wine in her glass. The dim light of the bookstore wrapped around them like a cocoon, soft and intimate. But the weight of the day still clung to her like a second skin—her aunt’s cruel words, the lawyer’s smug expression, the constant fear of losing everything.  

She sighed, staring into her glass. “I don’t get it. How can someone like Evelyn have the same blood as my mom? They’re polar opposites. My mom gave her life to this place, and Evelyn just... wants to turn it into concrete and drywall.”  

Wonwoo, who had been sitting cross-legged on the floor near the armchair, tilted his head thoughtfully. “Your aunt is  something else, huh?” he said carefully, a hint of amusement in his voice.  

Y/N let out a sharp laugh, startled by his tone. “That’s putting it lightly.”  

“No, seriously,” he said, leaning forward, a mischievous glint in his eye. “She stormed in here like a villain from some soap opera. All she was missing was a dramatic evil laugh and a pet cat to stroke menacingly.”  

Y/N snorted, covering her mouth with her hand. “Stop it. She’s bad, but she’s not a cartoon character.”  

“Are you sure?” Wonwoo countered, his grin widening. “She walked in here with her heels clicking like a countdown to doom and a lawyer who looked like he was ready to auction off your soul. I half-expected her to twirl her hair and say, ‘You’ll rue the day you crossed Evelyn!’”  

That did it. Y/N burst out laughing, the tension in her chest loosening with every chuckle. She doubled over slightly, her glass wobbling in her hand.  

Wonwoo sat back, clearly pleased with himself. “See? Laughter’s good for stress. And let’s face it, your aunt is absurd enough to be a villain in one of those cheesy romance novels you keep tucked in the corner.”  

Y/N wiped at her eyes, still giggling. “You’re not wrong. She’s dramatic enough to fit right in.”  

“And her lawyer?” Wonwoo continued, warming to the subject. “He had the personality of an empty notebook. No offense to him, but I’ve seen potted plants with more charisma.”  

She laughed harder, almost spilling her wine this time. “Okay, okay, now you’re being mean!”  

“It’s not mean it's true,” he teased. “Seriously, though, who shows up with a lawyer for a family dispute? It’s like she planned this whole takeover with a PowerPoint presentation and a laser pointer.”  

Y/N leaned back into her chair, her laughter quieting to a soft, lingering smile. For the first time all day, she felt like she could breathe. “You’re ridiculous,” she said, shaking her head.  

“But I’m helping,” he said, a boyish grin lighting up his face.  

She nodded, warmth blooming in her chest. “You are. More than you know.”  

There was a brief pause as they locked eyes, the humor fading into something quieter, more intimate. Wonwoo’s expression softened, his voice dropping to a gentle tone.  

“Your aunt might be a lot to handle, but she doesn’t define you, Y/N. Or this store. You’re stronger than she is, and you have something she’ll never understand—passion. You care about this place. That’s why you’ll win.”  

Y/N’s smile wavered, her eyes shimmering with emotion. “Thank you, Wonwoo. I don’t know what I’d do without you right now.”  

He reached over and gently plucked the glass from her hand, setting it aside. “You’d figure it out. You’re pretty incredible, Y/N. I’m just here to remind you of that.”  

She felt her cheeks flush, her heart thudding in her chest. “You’re really good at this whole pep talk thing.”  

“Years of practice,” he said lightly, leaning back with a small smile. “But honestly, it’s easy when it’s you. You make it worth it.”  

The warmth in his words settled over her like a comforting blanket, and for the first time in days, she felt the storm inside her quiet.

Y/N grabbed the wine bottle from the kitchenette, glancing over her shoulder at Wonwoo, who was sprawled lazily on the floor with his glass in hand. “Alright, Mr. Mysterious Writer. If we’re going to drink more wine, you’re spilling some juicy secrets.”  

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Secrets? What makes you think I have any?”  

“Oh, please,” she said, settling down across from him with a grin. “You’ve got that whole brooding, quiet thing going on. There’s definitely something juicy under there.”  

He chuckled, shaking his head as she refilled their glasses. “I think you’re overestimating how interesting I am.”  

Y/N leaned forward, resting her chin in her hand. “Try me. What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done?”  

“Embarrassing?” he echoed, groaning dramatically. “You’re really starting with the hard-hitting questions.”  

“Absolutely,” she said with a smirk. “This wine isn’t free, you know. Payment in absolutely cringe-worthy stories, please.”  

Wonwoo took a sip of his wine, stalling as his ears turned faintly pink. “Fine. When I was in college, I joined a karaoke contest because my friends dared me. I thought I was nailing it—singing my heart out to some cheesy pop song. Turns out, the mic was off the whole time, and everyone was just laughing at me lip-syncing like a maniac.”  

Y/N burst out laughing, nearly spilling her wine. “No way. What song was it?”  

He winced, looking away. “...‘Call Me Maybe.’”  

Her laughter doubled, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. “Stop. Stop it right now. I’m picturing you doing those little hand motions for the chorus.”  

He groaned, covering his face with one hand. “Why did I agree to this?”  

“Because you secretly love making me laugh,” she teased, nudging his knee with her foot. “Okay, next question. What’s the most rebellious thing you’ve ever done? Please tell me it’s not sneaking a library book home after hours.”  

Wonwoo smirked, tilting his head. “First of all, that’s a perfectly respectable crime. Second, I did once skip a whole semester of lectures to follow a girl I liked to a different city.”  

Y/N’s mouth dropped open. “Wait—seriously? You followed her?”  

He shrugged, his grin turning a little sheepish. “It wasn’t as creepy as it sounds. We were kind of seeing each other, and she was moving away for an internship. I thought it was romantic at the time.”  

“Oh my god, shut the fuck up.” Y/N said, laughing as she set her glass down. “What happened?”  

“She broke up with me two weeks later,” he admitted, his tone dry.  

She gasped, clutching her chest like it physically hurt. “No! That’s awful.”  

“It was definitely character building,” he said with a dramatic sigh, earning another laugh from her.  

“Okay, last one,” she said, leaning closer with a sly smile. “Do you have any current crushes? Like, hypothetically, someone who owns a charming little bookstore and drinks wine with you at two in the morning?”  

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. “Hypothetically? Are we talking about Evelyn?”  

Y/N smacked his shoulder lightly, her laugh bubbling over. “Oh we’re definitely talking about Evelyn. I feel like you have a thing for terribly evil women who’d be mean to you, like a kink or something.”  

He chuckled, his eyes sparkling as he leaned toward her slightly. “I usually do. But, I don’t know, Y/N. Shouldn’t the question be... do you have a current crush? Someone who maybe sings ‘Call Me Maybe’ like their life depends on it?”  

Her cheeks flushed, but she kept her grin. “I don’t know, Woo. That doesn’t really sound like my type.”  

“Oh, really?” he said, his tone playful. “What’s your type, then?”  

She pretended to think, tapping her chin. “Hmm... someone who doesn’t follow girls to other cities or embarrass themselves at karaoke contests.”  

“God the pain,” he said, pressing a hand to his chest like she’d wounded him. “Guess I’m out of the running.”  

She smiled, her gaze softening just a bit. “Not necessarily. You’ve got other redeeming qualities. Like pouring wine which is an important one. At least to me.”  

His grin widened, and he lifted his glass in a mock toast. “Well, I’ll take that as a win.”  

Their glasses clinked together, and as they drank, the teasing energy between them lingered, warm and electric, filling the quiet bookstore with something that felt a lot like possibility.  

Y/N grabbed the wine bottle, a mischievous glint in her eye as she refilled their glasses. Wonwoo watched her curiously, his grin still lingering from their back-and-forth.  

“Alright, my turn,” he said, leaning back on his elbows. “What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever done in this bookstore when no one was around?”  

Y/N froze mid-pour, her face immediately turning red. “Oh no. Nope. No way in hell. Not telling you.”  

Wonwoo straightened, his smirk growing as he caught the look of panic on her face. “Oh, come on. You can’t not tell me after that reaction.”  

“It’s not even that bad,” she tried to brush it off, waving a hand as if swatting his question away.  

“That means it’s terrible, and now I have to know,” he teased, his eyes narrowing playfully. “What did you do, Y/N? Did you accidentally set a book on fire? Did you steal candy from a kid? Spill it.”  

Y/N groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Ugh, fine! But you can’t laugh.”  

“No promises,” he said immediately, leaning forward with interest.  

She peeked out from between her fingers, sighing dramatically before finally admitting, “Okay. When I was like thirteen, I... I used to practice kissing on the spines of the books.”  

Wonwoo blinked. “What?”  

Her face turned crimson. “You heard me.”  

It took a second for it to register, but then Wonwoo doubled over laughing, his shoulders shaking as he nearly spilled his wine. “The spines? You made out with the books?”  

“I was thirteen!” she squealed, trying and failing to stop herself from laughing too. “And my friends had all kissed someone, so I panicked! I thought—‘I need to practice!’ And the books were there. Don’t judge me.”  

Wonwoo fell back against the floor, wheezing between bursts of laughter. “Oh my god—what books? Please tell me it was like an encyclopedia.”  

She shot him a glare, though she was laughing too hard to look serious. “No. It was whatever I could reach. Mostly YA romances, okay? I thought maybe the romance would transfer through the spine or something.”  

“You were out here trying to absorb love through osmosis?” he gasped, holding his stomach as he laughed.  

“Yes.” she said, her voice high-pitched from embarrassment. “I don’t know how I thought it worked.”  

Wonwoo sat up, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “Y/N, that’s—that’s the greatest thing I’ve ever heard. I’m never going to be able to look at these books the same way again. Like how can I pick one up without wondering if your lips touched it.”  

“I hate you,” she said, burying her face in her hands again. “I should’ve taken that secret to the grave.”  

“Oh, absolutely not,” he said, grinning. “This is prime blackmail material. Just wait until you’re being all serious about the store one day, and I remind you of your spine-kissing phase.”  

She peeked up at him, her lips quaking into a smile despite herself. “You wouldn’t dare.”  

“Try me,” he said smugly, raising his wine glass like a toast. “To Y/N, the Bookstore Casanova.”  

“I’m never telling you anything ever again,” she muttered, shaking her head as she took a sip of her wine.  

“Too late. I’m already your confidant,” he teased, leaning closer with a smirk. “But for the record, I think as a teenager you were pretty resourceful. I mean, who needs practice with people when you have books?”  

“Exactly.” she said, pointing at him with mock seriousness. “See? You get it.”  

“I don’t,” he admitted, laughing again. “But it’s endlessly entertaining.”  

Y/N groaned, but she couldn’t stop smiling. “You’re the worst.”  

“And yet, here you are—drinking wine with me. But, tell me, do you think the kissing books hacked helped?” he shot back, his eyes twinkling.  

“I don’t know? I’ve never kissed myself? Honestly I haven’t kissed someone since my last relationship which was..” Y/n pretended to flip through her imaginary calendar. “Two years ago?” 

“Interesting no one ever confirmed it.” 

She shook her head, muttering, “Regretting this more by the second.” But her grin gave her away, and the lighthearted energy between them filled the quiet bookstore with warmth—like something rare and perfectly imperfect, just like their ridiculous conversation.  

Wonwoo’s teasing grin softened slightly as he tilted his head, watching her with a flicker of something warmer in his gaze. “Two years, huh?” he said, his tone quieter now, though the playful glint in his eyes lingered.  

Y/N shrugged, trying to brush it off. “What can I say? I’ve been busy running a bookstore and, you know, kissing spines.”  

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “That’s a real tragedy, though. All that practice, and no one’s benefited from it?”  

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” she said, rolling her eyes but unable to suppress the heat creeping up her neck. She raised her glass to her lips again, trying to hide behind it.  

Wonwoo set his own glass down on the table beside them, leaning forward slightly. “You know,” he said, his voice dropping just enough to make her pulse quicken, “I could help with that.”  

Her breath hitched, and she lowered her glass, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Help with what?”  

He shrugged one shoulder, the corner of his mouth twitching into that faint, irresistible smirk. “You know. Test out whether all that spine-kissing really paid off.”  

Her laugh came out more like a nervous squeak, and she immediately covered it with a cough. “You’re insufferable, Jeon Wonwoo.”  

“And yet, you’re still here,” he echoed his earlier words, his gaze holding hers now with a steady intensity that made her heart thud painfully against her ribs.  

For a moment, the world outside the bookstore seemed to vanish, leaving only the golden glow of the little lamp, the lingering scent of old paper and wine, and the space between them that suddenly felt charged.  

“You’re not serious,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.  

“Maybe I am,” he said simply, his smirk softening into a small, almost shy smile.  

Before she could overthink it—or talk herself out of it—he leaned closer, his eyes flickering down to her lips and then back up to meet her gaze. He paused there, just inches away, waiting.  

Her breath caught, and something about the way he was so close, so patient, made her feel brave. “Wonwoo,” she murmured, a smile tugging at her lips. “Are you trying to be smooth?”  

“Is it working?” he asked, his voice warm and teasing, but his gaze was sincere.  

She didn’t answer, at least not with words. Instead, she closed the gap, brushing her lips against his in a tentative, featherlight kiss.  

It was gentle at first—soft and unhurried, like they were both figuring out how this was supposed to feel. But when he cupped her cheek with his hand, tilting her face slightly, the kiss deepened, and Y/N felt her heart flutter in a way it hadn’t in a long time.  

When they finally pulled back, just enough to catch their breath, he was smiling, his thumb brushing lightly against her cheek.  

“So,” he said, his voice still low and warm, “was it worth the two-year wait?”  

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head as she rested her forehead against his. “I don’t know yet,” she teased. “Might need more data to be sure.”  

His grin widened, his eyes crinkling in that way that always made her stomach flip. “I think that can be arranged.”  

And in the quiet, cozy little bookstore, with books watching silently from their shelves, Y/N had the distinct feeling she’d just uncovered the most unexpected treasure of all.  

The next few days passed in a blur of wine, laughter, and quiet moments shared between Y/N and Wonwoo. The chemistry between them seemed to grow with every secret they uncovered in the bookstore, every old clue leading them deeper into the mystery of the hidden treasure. But there was something else too—a shift, a quiet understanding that their connection had changed from something purely fun and teasing to something more real, more complicated.

The bookstore had become their shared sanctuary—where clues were scattered in dusty corners, and where they spent hours combing through old journals and books in search of the final pieces of the puzzle. Every clue brought them closer to something monumental, but with each step forward, Y/N’s estranged aunt Evelyn seemed to grow bolder, more determined to shut the whole thing down.

On one particular evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the bookstore was bathed in the soft glow of lamplight, Y/N and Wonwoo found themselves in a small, cluttered storage room hidden at the back of the shop, sifting through yet another pile of old papers. The room was quiet, save for the sound of rustling pages, the occasional clink of glasses, and the low hum of conversation between them.

Y/N paused, eyes scanning a faded letter that had caught her attention. "Wait, this is it," she said, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper and smoothing it on the table. "This has to be the deed."  

Wonwoo looked over her shoulder, his hand instinctively resting on her back. "Are you sure?"  

"I’m pretty sure," she muttered, tracing the yellowing edges of the paper. "It’s an old deed, but it looks like it’s in my name—well, my family's name, technically. It’s the bookstore's legal deed."  

Wonwoo leaned closer, studying the document with a frown. “This is the real thing,” he said, his voice almost reverent. “This could be the key to everything.”  

Y/N smiled, but her heart was still heavy with worry. "Yeah, but Evelyn’s not going to give up. She’s already trying to pressure me into selling. And she has a lawyer with her now. They’ve already threatened to drag me to court."  

Wonwoo straightened, his gaze sharpening. “Then we need to make sure she doesn’t get her hands on this.” He grabbed the deed and tucked it carefully into his jacket pocket.  

Y/N stared at him. "You’re not seriously thinking of hiding it, are you?"  

“Not just hiding it,” he said with a smirk. “I’m going to make sure it’s safe. If she’s going to play dirty, then so are we.”  

With that, he walked over to a small cupboard, pulling out a set of old, heavy keys. "I know a place. You trust me, right?"  

Y/N hesitated but then nodded. "I do.”  

Their hands brushed as he passed her the keys, and Y/N couldn’t help the way her heart skipped a beat. Wonwoo had been a constant presence since they’d started this treasure hunt, a calm and steady anchor in the chaos of relentless threats. And as much as they were both focused on the task at hand, Y/N couldn’t ignore the way their connection had deepened—the way her heart beat faster every time he was near, the way his presence made everything feel safer.  

As Wonwoo led her out of the room, they were interrupted by the sound of the front door slamming open, followed by the sharp click of heels on the hardwood floors. Evelyn’s voice rang out, cold and sharp.  

“Y/N, I know you’re here. We need to talk."  

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, and she exchanged a brief, tense glance with Wonwoo before they both hurried to the back, hiding the deed for the time being.  

“I’m not letting you get away with this.” Evelyn continued, her voice laced with venom. “I will take everything from you if I have to, including this bookstore. Your parents’ legacy won’t mean anything if you don’t sell to me.”  

Y/N’s jaw tightened. “Evelyn, you don’t own this store. You never will.”  

“Oh, we’ll see about that.” Evelyn’s laugh was cruel, echoing through the empty aisles.  

The tension in the air thickened, and Wonwoo placed a reassuring hand on Y/N’s shoulder. “We’ll figure this out, I promise,” he whispered, his voice low and steady.  

Y/N nodded, taking a deep breath. “You’re right. We’ll figure this out.”  

But in the back of her mind, she knew that Evelyn wasn’t going to stop. The woman was determined, and Y/N needed to be just as determined to protect what was hers. She wasn’t going to let the bookstore go without a fight—not when it had meant everything to her growing up.  

Later that evening, as the bookstore quieted down and Y/N sat at the small table in the back corner, sipping on a glass of wine, she looked up at Wonwoo, who had been quietly scribbling in his notebook for the past hour.  

He looked up from his writing and caught her gaze, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’m almost finished with my book, you know,” he said, his tone casual but laced with something deeper.  

Y/N raised an eyebrow, setting her glass down. “No way? About what?”  

“About a treasure hunt,” he replied, eyes glinting with mischief. “About two people who find something they didn’t expect—something more valuable than they could have imagined.”  

She grinned, leaning forward with curiosity. “And what do they find?”  

“The treasure,” he said, his voice quieter now, “isn’t what they thought it would be. It’s the connection they have with each other. The way they work together to uncover something bigger than themselves.”  

Y/N felt her heart flutter at his words, the weight of his gaze making her pulse quicken. “That’s really sweet.  

“Well,” he said, his lips curving into a teasing grin, “it’s inspired by real life, isn’t it?”  

She laughed, her cheeks warming as she glanced down at her wine glass. “I guess it is.”  

Wonwoo’s tone turned more serious, though the playful edge never quite left his voice. “I think we make a pretty good team, Y/N. And I’m not just talking about the treasure hunt.”  

Her heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow down around them. “Yeah,” she murmured, a soft smile crossing her lips. “We do, don’t we?”  

Their eyes met, and in that moment, Y/N couldn’t help but feel the connection between them deepen. Everything they had uncovered—the clues, the threats, the mystery of the bookstore—had brought them to this place, to this unexpected, complicated bond that was far more precious than any treasure they might find hidden in the walls.  

And as the night grew deeper, and they prepared to face whatever Evelyn threw their way next, Y/N knew one thing for certain: no matter what happened, she wasn’t going to face it alone.

The next morning, the sun had barely risen, casting soft beams of light through the dust-covered windows of the bookstore. Y/N had barely slept the night before, her mind whirling with thoughts of Evelyn’s threats and the looming confrontation that awaited her. But she had a plan now, one that gave her a sense of clarity and strength. She wasn’t going to let her aunt take what was hers.  

With the deed securely tucked in her bag and the letter from her mother—a last message of trust and love—Y/N stood at the edge of the bookstore, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew she had to confront Evelyn’s lawyer head-on, to show them that she wasn’t just some helpless niece who could be pushed around. The store was hers, and now, she had the legal proof to back it up.  

It was a short walk to the lawyer’s office, but it felt like the longest journey of her life. As Y/N entered the glass-fronted building, she was greeted by a stern receptionist, who asked for her name.  

“I’m here to see Mr. Calloway,” Y/N said firmly, her voice steady despite the nerves bubbling just beneath the surface. “Tell him it’s regarding the deed for the bookstore.”  

The receptionist glanced at her curiously but nodded, picking up the phone to make the call. A few moments later, Y/N was ushered into a sleek office, the kind of place that smelled faintly of expensive cologne and old leather-bound books. Mr. Calloway, a middle-aged man with graying hair and a stern expression, stood behind his desk. He motioned for her to take a seat.  

“Ms. Y/N, I presume?” Mr. Calloway’s voice was smooth, but there was a certain edge to it. “I’m afraid you’ve come here for nothing. The property’s ownership is already in question. Your aunt is prepared to take this to court.”  

Y/N didn’t flinch. “That’s not necessary,” she said, her voice unwavering. “I have the deed to the bookstore.”  

She slid the crinkled paper across the desk, and Mr. Calloway eyed it with some skepticism. “And where did you come from?”  

“This is the deed my mother left for me,” Y/N replied, her fingers curling around the letter she’d brought with it. “And along with that, she left me the money to renovate and make this store my own. She made it clear in writing that this place was meant to be mine. I’ve spent my life here, and I’m not going to let anyone take it away from me.”  

For a moment, the lawyer was silent, his gaze flicking back and forth between the deed and Y/N’s determined face. He finally sighed, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers. “Well, it’s clear you have some legal standing here,” he said slowly. “I’ll need to make sure everything is in order, but I’d advise you to be prepared for further legal action. Your aunt is not someone who backs down easily.”  

“I’m not backing down either,” Y/N said, standing up and grabbing the deed from the desk. “I’ll be taking the store back, starting now.”  

Mr. Calloway looked surprised but didn’t protest. “Very well. I’ll have this taken into consideration.”  

Y/N left the office with the deed still clutched tightly in her hand, feeling a surge of relief and adrenaline. Her heart was racing, but now, she knew she had the power to protect the place she loved. The fight wasn’t over, but she had just won the first round.  

With the victory still buzzing in her chest, Y/N made her way straight to the bookstore, her thoughts already turning to the next steps. She needed to tell Wonwoo. He’d been by her side through all of this, and now that she had the deed, they could finally take the fight to Evelyn and her lawyer together.  

When she arrived at the bookstore, it was nearly empty except for a few early morning customers, browsing the shelves. The usual quiet was soothing, but Y/N couldn’t help the wide smile spreading across her face as she spotted Wonwoo, hunched over in a corner with his notebook, scribbling away.  

She couldn’t contain herself anymore. She rushed over to him, feeling lighter than she had in days. "Wonwoo!" she said, practically bursting with excitement.  

He looked up, his eyes softening as he noticed the huge grin on her face. "What’s all this about?"  

“I did it,” she said, breathless, her chest heaving as she held up the deed. “I went to Evelyn’s lawyer, and I staked my claim. I have the deed, the money my mom left me for renovations, and now—” She paused for effect. “Now, the bookstore is mine.”  

Wonwoo’s face broke into a grin so wide it almost seemed unreal. He immediately stood, his arms open as if to embrace the whole victory. “Y/N, that’s amazing!”  

Without saying another word, he pulled her into a tight hug, lifting her off the ground and spinning her around once, before gently setting her back down. Y/N laughed, the joy bubbling up inside her in a way she hadn’t felt in weeks.  

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” she said, stepping back and looking at him with gratitude. “You helped me every step of the way.”  

Wonwoo smiled softly, brushing a lock of hair from her face. “That’s what partners do.” His tone was lighter now, teasing. “Although, I think we should celebrate this properly.”  

Y/N raised an eyebrow, grinning. “Oh? How do you plan to do that?”  

Wonwoo leaned in just slightly, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Well,” he said, his voice lower now, “I’m thinking of wine... and maybe even a celebratory kiss?”  

Y/N laughed again, her heart racing in her chest. "You’re lucky I like you, because you’re so corny, Jeon Wonwoo."  

“Lucky?” he repeated, leaning back, mock offense in his voice. “I’m not just lucky, I’m deserving.”  

“Alright, alright,” she said, pulling a bottle of wine from the shelf. “You’ve earned it. But just so you know, this is just the beginning. We still have a lot of work to do.”  

“I know,” he said, pouring them each a glass, “but I think we deserve a break, don’t you?”  

They clinked glasses, and for a moment, the world outside the bookstore seemed to fade away. They had won today, but they both knew that this was just the start of a much larger fight. 

As they stood there, the glasses of wine in their hands, the air between them still crackling with the energy of the moment, Wonwoo’s smile faded slightly. He took a deep breath, setting his glass down on the nearby table. There was something different in his eyes now—something deeper, something more vulnerable. Y/N noticed it immediately, her smile faltering slightly as she watched him.

“What is it?” she asked, her voice softer now, the excitement of the day momentarily giving way to a more serious tone. “You’ve gone quiet all of a sudden.”

Wonwoo ran a hand through his hair, his gaze flicking to the floor for a moment before meeting her eyes again. He hesitated for a second longer, as if weighing his words carefully. 

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” he began, his voice steady but laced with an earnestness that made Y/N’s heart skip a beat. “And I guess now is as good a time as any.”

Y/N set her glass down too, her attention fully on him now. She could feel her pulse quicken as the tension in the room shifted, her curiosity growing.

“When I first started coming here, I didn’t expect much. I was just looking for a quiet place to escape and get away from the chaos of the world, y’know?” he continued, his hands resting on the edge of the table as he spoke, as if grounding himself. “But then, I started coming more often. And eventually, it wasn’t just the books that kept bringing me back. It was... you.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected from him, but this... this wasn’t what she’d anticipated. She searched his eyes, her heart pounding in her chest. “Wonwoo, I—”

“Just let me finish,” he said, cutting her off gently, but there was a softness in his voice that she couldn’t ignore. “At first, I thought I was just drawn to this place because it was peaceful. But then I realized it was you—your passion, the way you cared about this bookstore, the way you lit up when you talked about your mom, the way you had this fire in you that I couldn’t stop noticing.” He took a small step closer, his voice growing more sincere with each word. “I’ve never met anyone like you, Y/N. Not in the way you see the world, not in the way you’ve brought me into this... this little adventure of ours.”

Y/N’s heart was racing now, her chest tight as she absorbed his words. There was no mistaking the sincerity in his eyes, no doubt in her mind that what he was saying wasn’t just a passing thought.

“I used to think I knew what I wanted,” Wonwoo went on, his voice barely above a whisper now, “but you’ve changed that for me. This place... you... have made me see that there’s more to life than just work, than just existing. You’ve given me a reason to want more, to want... us.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, her hand instinctively reaching out to grasp his, her fingers trembling ever so slightly. “Wonwoo...” she whispered, her voice soft but full of emotion. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

His thumb gently brushed over the back of her hand, his gaze never leaving hers. “I do. I care about you, Y/N. More than I thought I could care about anyone. You’ve completely turned my world upside down, and I wouldn’t change it for anything.”

For a long moment, they stood there, the quiet in the room wrapping around them like a cocoon. Y/N could hear the steady beat of her own heart in her ears, the weight of his words settling deep within her chest.

“I don’t know what to say,” she finally whispered, her voice unsteady. “This is... I didn’t expect this.”

Wonwoo smiled softly, a hint of nervousness breaking through his usual cool demeanor. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know. I don’t want to hide how I feel anymore.”

Y/N felt something shift inside her, the words she had been holding back finally finding their way to her lips. “Wonwoo, you’ve changed my life too. I’ve never met anyone who just, I don’t know, gets it the way you do. You make me feel like I’m not crazy for wanting this place to mean something more. You’ve made me feel seen. I care about you too, so much more than I ever expected.”

A soft chuckle escaped him, his eyes lighting up in that familiar mischievous way. “Well, I guess that’s a good thing, considering we’ve already been on a treasure hunt together.”

Y/N laughed, but it was different this time. It wasn’t just a response to his teasing—it was a laugh filled with something deeper, something more real. “You’re right,” she said, her voice more certain now. “I guess it is.”

Wonwoo stepped closer, his hand finding hers, fingers intertwining. “So, what do you say? Want to keep going on this treasure hunt—with me?”

As Y/N held Wonwoo’s hand, her heart raced with a mixture of excitement and a little bit of disbelief. She hadn’t expected any of this—the bookstore, the adventure, and most certainly not the way he was looking at her right now, like he’d just found the last piece of the puzzle he didn’t even know he was searching for.

“You really know how to throw someone off balance, Jeon,” she teased, a playful smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “I thought we were just celebrating the deed and now you’re confessing your feelings. Seriously, could you not make it so dramatic?”

He chuckled, leaning closer, the mischief still dancing in his eyes. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for drama.” 

She rolled her eyes, but her smile never left. “Well, I’ll give you this—you’re a much better treasure than I ever thought you’d be.”

“Aw, look at that,” Wonwoo teased, raising an eyebrow. “I’m your treasure now?”

Y/N snorted, shaking her head. “I guess. I mean, who else would tolerate my crazyness?” she said with a wink.

His response was to step even closer, giving her a sly grin. “Someone who’d do anything to stick around,” he said softly, before dipping his head and placing a quick kiss on her forehead. “You’re stuck with me now.”

She grinned up at him, her heart light. “That’s just fine by me.”

The days that followed felt like a whirlwind of excitement and resolution. With the deed officially in her hands, Y/N returned to the bookstore, determined to move forward. Evelyn’s lawyer had called to warn her that her aunt wouldn’t give up easily, but once the truth came out—that her mother had left the store specifically for Y/N to own, with funds to renovate and keep it alive—there was nothing Evelyn could do. She tried to fight, of course, but without any legal grounds or the right to contest the inheritance, it was a battle she couldn’t win.

Y/N’s lawyer had done the heavy lifting, and with everything in order, Evelyn was forced to concede defeat. The store officially belonged to Y/N—her mother’s legacy was hers to continue. But Y/N made one last effort to seal the deal. She sent Evelyn a letter, with a cheeky twist of her own: “Thanks for the help, but I think I’ve got it from here.”

It was a small victory, but it felt sweet, and Y/N couldn’t stop grinning as she turned back to the shelves, breathing in the familiar scent of old pages and dust. The Nook was officially hers.

The real fun began after that.

Weeks later, the bookstore was buzzing with activity—not from the usual morning crowd, but something much more exciting. Y/N had spent countless hours refurbishing the place, brightening the atmosphere with new coats of paint, adding cozy reading nooks, and ensuring every corner reflected her personality. But there was one thing she couldn’t do without him. Wonwoo had been her right-hand man through every part of it, turning the back office into a cozy writers’ retreat and organizing all of the books so that they not only looked great but also told a story of their own.

And now, the biggest thing was happening: the bookstore was hosting Wonwoo’s book signing. He’d completed his manuscript, inspired by all their adventures, their treasure hunts, and the mysterious secrets of The Nook. His book was a hit, and now, with the launch underway, Y/N was standing beside him in the middle of their bookstore—the place that had started it all.

She caught sight of him as he set up for the signing, adjusting the small display table with the first copies of his book. His smile was wide, and he looked so comfortable in his own skin now—more at home than she’d ever seen him before. He caught her eye, and for a moment, everything else faded away. 

“You did it,” she said, walking up to him with a grin. “You’re officially a second time sexy best selling author.”

He grinned back, his eyes twinkling. “And I couldn’t have done it without a treasure hunt partner like you. Where would I be without my muse?”

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully, giving him a playful shove. “Yeah, yeah. Just sign my copy, won’t you?”

He laughed, taking the book from her hands and scribbling a dedication. “To Y/N, the true treasure of The Nook.”

She raised an eyebrow, feeling a familiar warmth spread across her chest. “You’re really laying it on thick now.”

“I’m just being honest,” he teased, handing her the signed copy. “You changed my life, remember?”

Before Y/N could reply, the first customer walked in—an eager reader looking for a signed copy of his book. The rest of the day was a whirlwind of introductions, book signings, and laughter, the bookstore alive with the kind of energy Y/N had only dreamed of before.

As the event wound down, with the last few customers having left, Wonwoo and Y/N were left standing behind the counter, both a little tired but still glowing from the success.

“So,” Wonwoo said, his voice low as he leaned on the counter next to her, “what do we do now?”

Y/N looked around, taking in the bustling bookstore, the little crowd of people chatting about his book, the laughter, and the life in the space. She felt a contented sigh escape her lips.

“We keep going,” she said with a grin, her eyes meeting his. “We keep making this place even more ours.”

Wonwoo leaned in, his face softening. “And how do we do that?”

Y/N leaned back against the counter, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “We keep finding treasures, Together.”

The following months were filled with more than just book signings. With the store officially thriving under their shared ownership, Y/N and Wonwoo were building a life together, discovering new mysteries, laughing over silly inside jokes, and creating their own stories within the walls of The Nook. Whether it was fixing up a new corner for readers, writing new books, or simply sitting together and reminiscing about their treasure hunt, they had found something real—something both fun and serious in its own way.

As for Evelyn, she had finally backed off, realizing she had no place left in Y/N’s world. Y/N had reclaimed her space—not just in the bookstore, but in her life. And with Wonwoo by her side, they were ready for whatever came next.

And so, The Nook became more than just a bookstore—it became their home, their story, and their future.

[stsgluver]

“i like this one,” you pointed to a particular design in one of the portfolio books you’d stolen from geto’s desk. it was a dahlia – black and white with wisps spinning around the flower. it was delicate and soft, and very much unlike the usual tattoos your boyfriend usually created.

the boyfriend in question peered over at you laying across his tattoo chair that you’d adjusted so the back was resting horizontally. he looked unfairly attractive – hair tied back in a messy bun and the glasses he only ever wore when no one else was in the room tipped to the edge of his nose. 

“want me to do it for you?” geto nodded his head towards the portfolio in your hands, a small smirk present. to say you weren’t a fan of needles was an understatement and, in the six months you’d been together and the two years you’d been friends, he was yet to convince you to let him do one for you.

“no,” you scrunched up your nose at him, ignoring his light chuckle at your quick response. 

“yeah no one wants your shit ass.” you spun your head around to see fushiguro toji sliding open the door to geto’s work space. out of all the people geto worked with, toji by far ranked in last place for his distasteful personality. his lips curled up into a twisted grin, scar lifting as his eyes drifted over your figure and you wished you were hiding behind your boyfriend and not sprawled out along the chair. “i’ll do it for you darling, even add some extra benef–”

“fuck off fushiguro,” geto said forcefully. you’d been coming to the tattoo shop long before you and geto had started dating and the older man had always been this way, but he’d ramped it up tenfold once you’d officially gotten together. 

toji rested back against geto’s door frame, his cocky attitude fueled by geto’s clear annoyance. “gojo just wanted me to tell you that you haven’t responded to an email yet.” he gave a wink in your direction before he ducked back out of the room. you gagged in response, slipping off of the chair to shut the door he’d left wide open.

“asshole,” geto muttered under his breath, leaning back and pulling his hair out of its loose bun as he so often did when he was stressed. “how much longer are you going to be here?” 

geto loved having you down at his work, loved being around you as he sketched as he considered you his muse. however, toji had his own special way of tainting every situation he was ever in and digging his nails right under your boyfriend’s skin in a way no one else could.

there was a small pout on your lips as you made your way over to geto, to your boyfriend who was usually always so level-headed no matter what was happening. “hey, don’t punish me for him putting you in a bad mood."

holding onto the back of his chair, you spun it slightly so that he was facing you. he didn’t resist your movements and his legs naturally spread enough so that you could shuffle between them, your arms loosely swung over his shoulders. beneath the collar of his top you could see the ends of several tattoos that decorated his tanned skin. 

“i’m not,” he closed his eyes, leaning into you to press a light kiss to your forearm. “i just prefer for my girlfriend not to be sexualised by that thing.” 

you pushed the strands of hair that obscured his face from your vision behind his ears, “i think i know what will make you feel better.”

“letting me tattoo my name on your forehead?” geto grinned up at you and you couldn’t stop yourself from leaning down to kiss him. knocking your nose against his, you feel the cool metal of his nose ring against your skin. a nose ring he could definitely convince you to get, though it would be from shoko and definitely not him. you had seen what had happened to gojo’s ear when the two of them had gotten drunk and thought piercing each other with a sewing needle would be a genius idea.

“buying me something from the vending machine?” you countered, giggling at the drop of his smile. the vending machine had been gojo’s idea of bringing in more money for the business and he’d somehow managed to convince yaga he was right. so far, the only person who ever seemed to use that thing was you (with geto’s money). 

“i hate gojo for buying that thing,” geto sighed, dramatically making a thing of grabbing his wallet from his drawer. he pinched your hip lightly and nodded his head towards the door, “after you, princess.”

[breathinlove]

lovergirl!ellie headcanons

read this

sinopse: highschool romance with ellie

cw: nsfw with warning near the end, swearing, basically fluff, ellie and reader play soccer, puppy love, slightly loser!ellie, not explicit if reader is fem or masc, not exactly proofread (it's definitely not).

lovergirl!ellie who has a bunch of girls swooning over her but she doesn't pay any mind.

lovergirl!ellie who is the soccer team's captain and meets you when you join the team late junior year.

lovergirl!ellie who helps you during practice and games.

lovergirl!ellie who asks you for water during practice and spends the whole week thinking about the indirect kiss.

lovergirl!ellie who notices how often you blink, how heavy you breathe, how you look at her during practice.

lovergirl!ellie who writes about you in her journal.

lovergirl!ellie who talks about you to her best friends,

"you should ask her out, ellie" dina would always say, jesse backing her up, but ellie always brushes it off with sweet flustered chuckles.

lovergirl!ellie who gives you a sketch of you after practice, the day before spring break.

lovergirl!ellie who nearly falls off the bed when you text her.

lovergirl!ellie who invited you over (dina and jesse's idea) and you draw together... ellie praises you through it too.

"you play with colors so well" "you're doing good, see?" as she points to your drawing.

lovergirl!ellie who asks joel what he thinks of you and spends the whole night rambling about you.

lovergirl!ellie whose eyes widened when you kissed her goodbye, she pulled you to a hug before kissing you again, arms wrapped around eachother.

lovergirl!ellie who ever since, hangs out with you everytime she can and smiles everytime you call it a date.

lovergirl!ellie who when you're back at school doesn't mind pda at all, holding your arm, your hand, your back.

lovergirl!ellie who gives you handwritten letters after you do it once, adding sketches. becoming a thing between the two of you... from high school junior year to now, the end of freshmen year in college.

nsfw (praise kink, switch ellie and reader)

lovergirl!ellie who preferes cozy making out on the couch or the bed.

lovergirl!ellie who loves dry humping, pressing your jeans agaisnt eachother.

lovergirl!ellie who on your first time together orgasms multiple times due to your praises.

you on top of her, rubbing her clit while she sucked your neck, collarbone and tits trying to keep quiet. "let me hear you ellie..." you whisper into her ear and suck her earlobe and she lets out a "fuck" and her legs shake. her hands find your hair pulling you so you face her, you smile. "god you're sexy" she grunts and kisses you deeply, moaning into your mouth as you slide a finger inside and a few thrusts in, she's cumming around your fingers. you end up going down on her later, she's squirming underneath you at every praise... a "you taste so good, ellie" while roaming your hands on her abs and hips and she's cumming all over your tongue once again... for the third time.

lovergirl!ellie who takes a little longer to find the confidence to be on the giving end, asking for reassurance and leaning onto your praises.

"you like that?" her voice is raspy and she's doing everything perfectly. she's sat against the bed's headboard and you're on top of her as she fucks her fingers up into you. "yeah" you tilt your head back, moaning her name, grinding your clit back and forth on her hand. "you're doing so well for me ellie, fucking me so well" you look down at her and she fucks you deeper and you fall on her shoulder "am i now?" she asks and you can feel her grin and she grabs your ass. grunting "so. fucking. pretty" between thrusts and you grip her shoulders, almost yelling her name against her shoulder and she doesn't stop until you're squirting "good girl yeah... good girl ".

lovergirl!ellie who really values aftercare, kissing eachothers shoulders and backs... cleaning after eachother.

lovergirl!ellie who makes love and fucks good.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Tim Through the Years - The Perfect Ring

Series Masterlist (part 9)

Summary: Tim finds the perfect engagement ring and stops a robbery in progress. 1.2k+ words

Tim loves you and, as a result, he thinks that he knows you well enough to understand what you do and don’t like, what you want and enjoy, and what is special to you. Yet, he can’t find the ring. He has a mental image of the ring he wants to put on your ringer when he proposes, but he can’t seem to find the right piece to match his idea.

Since finding out that Tim was dating you, Angela has dropped hints about getting married: leaving paper samples on his desk, texting venue options late at night, and even slipping jewelry store cards into his pocket. As he slides his hands into his pockets, thinking about you and how he should propose, he isn’t surprised to feel a rectangular piece of cardboard. The slogan about custom engagement rings, however, captures his attention. Tim puts the card back in his pocket to keep it safe before he gets back to work, but he feels a little lighter because he is one step closer to forever with you.

“Welcome!” the owner of the jewelry store calls as Tim enters on an afternoon off. “What can I help you with, sir?”

“Well,” Tim begins, glancing down at the rows of expensive rings and watches in the case between them. “I’m looking for an engagement ring, but I’m having trouble finding the right one.”

“You know what you want then?” the man asks with a smile.

“I think so, I just can’t seem to communicate it well enough to search for it.”

The man nods and pulls an iPad from a nearby shelf. He opens the magnetic case and sets it on the glass case. “I’ve been working with gentlemen like yourself for years. Think of the ring you want and talk me through what you see. We’ll see what we can do from there.”

“Okay,” Tim agrees hesitantly. He smiles and begins talking about the ring he pictures on your finger: the color, cut, size, and design he envisions when he dreams of his future with you. Though you haven’t sent him pictures or said anything to make him think he should propose - or given him an idea of your ring preference, for that matter - Tim Bradford knows you, so he can make connections between your personality, your style, your heart, and a ring. Or so he thinks. 

“... and maybe an engraving to signify how we met, at the police station,” Tim concludes.

“Alright,” the owner murmurs, tapping another marker setting. “Give me one second to finish this up. Forgive me if I’m overstepping, but it sounds like the two of you are perfect for one another. You’re lucky.”

“I appreciate that. Hopefully her brothers think the same when I ask him.”

“You don’t necessarily hide it. Okay.” He straightens and sets the pen aside, then turns the iPad toward Tim and asks, “Something like this?”

Tim is speechless as he stares at the sketch of the ring. The owner says something about not being able to hurt his feelings, but all Tim can think of is you.

“That’s it,” he says, looking up to thank the owner. “This is the ring.”

With a smile, the man extends his hand and offers, “Then let’s get started. I’ll need your help with a few things, just picking out the final material choices, and then I’ll start making it for you. I trust you know her ring size.”

“I do,” Tim answers. “One of my coworkers stole one of her rings as a hint, but I already knew.”

“See,” the man points out, “you don’t hide it, so if her brothers can’t see it, they aren’t looking.”

Tim nods and follows the man to a flat cart at the end of the display case. He lifts a box of sample diamonds in different cuts and colors before pulling out the one closest to his drawing.

“What do you think?”

Tim turns the man-made version of the gem in his hand and envisions you walking down the aisle, holding his hand, teaching, and growing old with it on your finger.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Let me get your information and I’ll give you a call with any questions and again when it’s ready to pick up. You’re sure this is the perfect ring?”

“For the perfect girl,” Tim answers. 

Since finding the perfect ring for you, Tim was looking forward to his next day off. His plan was to grab breakfast with your brothers then go get the ring afterwards, even if he was told no by your brothers. Tim knew how you saw Dean as a father figure and that traditions were important to you, so he wanted to make sure he got permission. Tim felt pretty confident that they would say yes, they all were pretty good friends at this point. Tim and Dean would go to a sports bar to get burgers and watch the game when they both could. While Sam would go jogging with Tim on occasion, but at least once a month everyone would get together for dinner. But on the chance the brothers would say no, he would ask you anyway. He was in love with you and wanted to scream it to the sky.

Today was finally the day, and it was going great so far. Breakfast went exactly as he planned, the brothers immediately agreeing and then arguing about who would walk her down the aisle, which turned into arguing who was gonna dance with her first. Tim chuckles to himself at the memory, the brothers truly loved you. Finally arriving at the store he feels a little nervous, nervous that the ring is going to be the wrong one, nervous that you will say no, but when the store clerk shows him the ring he ordered, all the fear goes away because the ring is perfect.

“Put your hands in the air! This is a robbery!” a deep voice bellows from behind Tim.

Tim’s smile turns to a frown instantly, this is not how he wanted to spend his day. Tim complies; he didn’t want to get seriously hurt since he is off duty. But when the guy shoves Tim to the side and grabs your engagement ring, Tim grabs the guy by the back of the head and slams his head on the counter then grabs his gun all in one quick motion and aims it at the robber.

“LAPD! You're under arrest!”

Tim is annoyed, he is now trying to make it seem like he was not buying any jewelry as to not involve more people than necessary. But of course Lucy was one of the first people to arrive on scene and so she has to take his statement.

“Like I keep telling you, I was walking by and saw the robbery take place so I stopped it. What’s so hard to believe?” Tim grunts to Lucy.

“Okay, okay, this just doesn’t seem to be the part of town I’d take you to stroll around, it’s too fancy for you,” Lucy replies with a small smile.

“Tim! Great news, I got your engagement ring to not be processed and the owner of the store wants to give you a big discount since the guy has  robbed the store 5 times now! Isn’t that great... news. Oh, hey Lucy.”  Angela freezes as she gets closer to Tim, not knowing Lucy was with him.

“You bought a what?!” Lucy exclaims.

[cherrykpawp]

Heat // Ch 3.5

Rating: Explicit, Mature (M)

Pairings: Yunho x reader, Mingi x reader, San x reader, Wooyoung x reader, Yeosang x reader, hinted San x Wooyoung, hinted Mingi x Yeosang, hinted San x Mingi, hinted Wooyoung x Yeosang, hinted San x Yeosang

This fic includes/ This chapter includes: hybrids, Afab!reader, reader-centric, fluff, angst, Fashion designer!Seonghwa, Owner!Seonghwa, Calico hybrid!reader, Dobermann hybrid!Yeosang, Maine Coone hybrid!Wooyoung

W.C: 3k

“You know, I had thought Yunho’s house was big already. But this…” You were astonished, to say the least.

Today, you're going to sleep over at Seonghwa’s house, exposing yourself more to Yeosang and Wooyoung. Yunho dropped you off ten minutes ago, he packed your duffle bag with clothes for the weekend last night so that you could feel comfortable and find your things easily. Although he initiated the plan to have this sleepover, he was downcast that your presence wouldn’t be in the house for the next two days. San and Mingi gave you the tightest bear hug you’ve ever had, acting as if they couldn’t just come over. It was better for you to go alone, though.

Seonghwa tucked his hair behind his ear. “It’s nothing. I wanted Yeosang and Wooyoung to have easy access to whatever they wanted to do.” Just like San, Mingi, and you, they had the freedom to go outside since they had phones and tracking. 

Seonghwa showed you to your guest room, it could’ve been considered a mini apartment. The interior had a bathroom and a balcony with sliding glass doors, shielding you from the sun outside with large white curtains. Everything was nicely tucked in and organized just like the rest of the house, an array of decorations adorning it. 

“You can put your things away in the meantime. When you’re done, I’d like to get your measurements for your clothes in the future to wear if you ever feel like sleeping over again. It’ll stay here since it'll be more convenient for Yunho. Unless you prefer to wear what you already have, then by all means. My house is your house,” Seonghwa kindly informed you before shutting the door behind him. You love his congeniality. 

The room even had a floral aroma, relaxing you times ten. In the room was one of those drawers with no handle, so you had to push the drawer for it to open, very elegant like Seonghwa. You briefly put your clothes away, quickly changing from outside clothes into something for the inside. Seeing how clean it was here, you didn’t want to be the reason dirt was brought in. After changing, you walked out to the living room, your guest room was conveniently on the first floor, out of the three stories. The top floor is a full-sized gym.

Seonghwa busied himself on his tablet, sketching away at a new idea. “You mentioned that you wanted to measure me?” Seonghwa looked up from his tablet, pleased to see that you had changed clothes. 

He reached inside the drawer of the table in front of him, which was filled with supplies, taking out a measuring tape before towering over you. “I won’t do too much, just some standard measurements”. You don’t know what ‘standard measurements’ were, but it seemed like he measured every inch of you. Your legs, the inside of your legs, your arm length, the width of your shoulders, the length of your back, your bust, waistline, hips, and even head size. You don’t even know if he made hats. “Perfect. Thank you, my canvas”.

Padded feet made their way down the stairs, it was Wooyoung. His hair was tied back in a half-up ponytail, showing his ears more, wearing an oversized maroon shirt and gray sweatpants. “Y/n!” he’s already full of exuberance, sweeping you off your feet and spinning you around.

“Hello, Youngie,” you giggled after he put you down, his ears pointed up. “Where’s Sangie?”

“He’s finishing up his workout, but forget about him.” He interlocked your hands together, “What do you want to do today?”.

You laced your fingers back, “I’m down for whatever you or Yeosang want to do.” His face was suddenly mischievous.

“You can’t tell me that”, his tail swayed in tune with his body. “You heard what the guys told you the other day.”

Everything came racing back. “You seriously like kissing and showing affection, huh?”

“You have no idea,” you focused on the deep voice coming from the stairs. Yeosang's hair was dampened with sweat, his skin glistened in it too. He wore a black compression short-sleeved shirt and black sweats, wiping down his glowy skin and auburn hair. “He’d do it for hours if he could.”

Wooyoung didn’t have a response for that, considering it was true. “Besides that, I like cuddling, playing board games, and bullying Yeosang cause his reactions are adorable.”

Yeosang disapproved, heading off to wash up so that he didn’t come off unappealing, and because Seonghwa doesn’t like touching sweat. 

“Do you have Jenga? I saw it on YouTube, but I never played it before,” you inquired, earning a surprised expression from Wooyoung.

“Really? We have two versions, the regular and the one with the prompts. Which one do you fancy?”

You pondered. “Maybe just the regular one for now. We can save the ones with prompts for a different day.” Wooyoung agreed, joyful that you thought about visiting again.

He released one hand, leading you towards the other side of the house where all the “entertainment” was. It ranged from technology to board games, card games, puzzles, and stuffed toys. There were cushions on the floor for you to sit on, taking a seat on one, letting go of his hand so he could grab the Jenga. He sat across from you, opening the box and carefully preparing it, dropping some blocks anyway.

Your tail wrapped around your arm, catching Wooyoung’s eye. “Your fur is divine. I love Calico patterns.”

You waved off his compliment. “Yours is so fluffy, it's probably extremely velvety.” Wooyoung beamed at your compliment, he spun around excitedly. “The Jenga!” you exclaimed. He tumbled it over clumsily.

“Don’t worry,” Wooyoung didn’t care at all. “Touch it.” You complied, caressing it; his tail was more plush than you imagined. You almost forgot it was his tail with how you squeezed it to feel the density, making Wooyoung jerk.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” You retracted your hands. He switched to his original seating, an excited smile still plastered.

“It’s fine, it didn’t hurt, rebuilding the tower he dropped. “I groom it every two days and apply some oil so that it gets soft and shiny like this. One of my favorite attributes about myself, besides well”, he gestured to himself, head to toe. Seonghwa had some confident hybrids, which makes sense since Seonghwa was secure in himself as well. 

You played two rounds of Jenga, both games were more intense than they should’ve been. In the first round, you started safely choosing a middle block dead center of the tower, thinking of taking things easy. That was until Wooyoung skillfully flicked the bottom left block away, nonchalantly placing it on the top right of the tower. Your eyes widened. Was he trying to make it difficult from the start? Tilting your head to the side, you pulled out a side piece three stories above the bottom row, placing it on top. But Wooyoung just flicked the right block on the bottom, making the whole tower balance on its single middle block. 

“Do you want to lose or something?” You asked, perplexed. You thought the whole point of Jenga was to prevent it from dropping.

Wooyoung chuckled, placing the block on top. “No, but it makes the game more intense and entertaining”. He wasn’t wrong because the way you started stressing over where the tower was about to fall had you on edge. Because of Wooyoung’s earlier choices, the tower fell on your turn, the Maine Coone praised himself. 

“That’s not fair, you literally made it difficult from the start,” you pouted, slowly building the tower back.

“Win the next one,” Wooyoung shrugged, playfully sticking a tongue out. 

So you were determined, being the one to remove the bottom middle block and place it on top. He looked at you with a shocked expression, and you responded by poking your tongue back at him. Now, if he were to pull either side of the bottom blocks out, the tower would tumble over regardless. Most of the blocks pulled were safe, but you attempted to make it difficult for him. It was safe to say you won this round, watching as the tower fell on his turn. His head dropped in defeat, Now it was your turn to celebrate. 

“Did he cheat?” Yeosang appeared in fresh new clothes, wearing a white long-sleeved shirt and black shorts. He sat on a cushion beside you, playing with one of the Jenga blocks.

“No, he won the first round, and I won this one,” you proudly stated.

Yeosang faked a gasp. “Wooyoungie? Winning? This is unheard of. How did you let that happen? He’s usually egregious at losing games,” Yeosang quipped, releasing a belly laugh.

Wooyoung hissed at his friend. “Yah! I win sometimes.”

“Sometimes, very few,” Yeosang nodded, rebuilding the tower.

“You see why I bully him? He’s like this to me on the regular,” Wooyoung eyed you defensively. “He may look innocent, but he’s secretly a Charlatan.”

Yeosang couldn’t help but smirk, ignoring his friend. The three of you played one more round of Jenga. Wooyoung was persistent on making one of you lose, but Yeosang remained forbearing. Not knowing how Yeosang played, you stayed with the safer block options. Ultimately, you ended up winning again. Yeosang happily cheered for you; he secretly lost just so Wooyoung wouldn’t win, but he wasn’t going to admit that.

“New game,” Wooyoung packed away the Jenga, not accepting his defeat twice in a row. “Do you guys want to play truth or dare?”

“Sure—”, you were cut off by Yeosang.

“If I have to reiterate, she just came over about an hour ago. Put it away.” Wooyoung’s ears dropped, putting the game away.

You frowned. “What’s wrong with truth or dare?”

“Nothing’s wrong with truth or dare. But the one he picked out was for couples, so it includes suggestive prompts. He played this when San came over the first time,” Yeosang informed you, monitoring the games Wooyoung reached for. 

“Oh. Are you guys a couple?” Curiosity getting the best of you. 

“No. But we do help each other frequently. We even played this yesterday,” Yeosang pulled down the collar of his shirt to reveal his chest decorated in love bites. “He picked dare, as always, and the prompt was to leave one love bite in a place of your choice for thirty seconds. He decided to see how many he could make in a minute,” releasing the grasp on his shirt. 

“It didn’t seem like you pushed him away, he kept doing it thirty seconds extra past the time limit,” you eyed him teasingly. Yeosang tucked an invisible strand of hair behind his ear, you heard Wooyoung snicker at your comment. You technically weren't wrong.

Wooyoung brought out a card game called ‘We’re Not Really Strangers’. “This is a safer option. It’ll help us get to know you better since it’s your first day with us.” He opened the box, placing it in the middle of you three. “Ladies first”.

You pulled out a card, reading its prompt. “WILDCARD: Admit something.” You gestured the question to both of them. 

Yeosang stroked the back of his head, shy to admit. “I definitely let him continue,” earning a small shriek from you. How scandalous. He laughed in embarrassment, it was the first time you heard him laugh, and you wanted to hear it on repeat, honestly. 

“Out of all the scents amongst the hybrids, I love yours the most,” Wooyoung safely answered, Yeosang suddenly feeling like he should’ve kept it to himself.

Considering he was on the left of you, Yeosang picked out a random card. “What do you think my defining characteristic is?”

You didn’t have to think too hard about that too hard. “Your birthmark. I meant it when I said it was beautifully unique,” Yeosang smiled, the apples of his cheeks prominent.

“Your eyebrows,” Wooyoung commented. Yeosang hummed at his response. Wooyoung reached into the box for a new card. “What was your first impression of me?”

“Considering we met in the same clinic, probably ‘wow, this friend is very outgoing’ and then you introduced yourself 'formally' by biting me.” Yeosang reminisced. 

“Good thing I didn’t ask you, this was for y/n.” Wooyoung nodded toward you, Yeosang bit his tongue from what he wanted to say.

“I thought you were outgoing as well, you’re a people person. Not overwhelming at all,” Wooyoung’s tail swayed behind him, bowing his head towards you to rub his head. You did, loving how adorable he was acting.

Yeosang leaned towards your ear. “You say this now. Just be careful,” he pulled away, acting coy.

Softly chuckling, you reached for another prompt: “What is the most toxic trait you can admit to?” 

“I can be too assertive at times. Some people got distant because of my rowdy attitude, I was a million times worse than this until I met Seonghwa hyung,” Wooyoung replied, stretching his legs forward. 

“I can be possessive when in the mood,” Yeosang shyly admitted. “I mean, it’s natural in canine hybrids. I just thought I’d be different, it’s not like I’ll put anyone in danger. It’s more so that I need to remind myself or be reminded to relax.”

“Neither of those is too bad, especially if you have tactics that restrain you from harming the other person,” you reassured them. Yeosang’s tail wagged softly. 

Yeosang reached for a card: “Who in your life deserves the biggest thank you?”

Wooyoung answered quickly, “Everyone here and hyung’s house. You guys allow me to be who I am”. 

This was another question you didn’t have trouble answering, “Definitely Yunho. You have no idea how my life was before him…” Suddenly, the air got a bit heavy, but they let you talk; they never got to hear all the full details. 

“Having to move from one town to another to find shelter, stressing to find anything to eat let alone a hot meal, your only pair of clothes getting worn out and torn having to rely on bandages to keep you modest, being too naive and easily trusting of people that weren’t as genuine as they said. Having been like that for four months humbled me to never take anything for granted. Before Yunho found me, I was seriously about to give up. Staying in the alleyway that cold night, I hoped to freeze so I wouldn’t continue another day in torment. But it seems as if my previous owner sent me an angel. And to that, I owe him more than a thank you, but my soul.” The sincerity in your words left the hybrid's heartbroken. The fact that you had to endure all that but still put on a loving smile every day completely altered their brain chemistry toward you. 

They vowed to give you anything and everything you needed. Without hesitation, they would tend to you from here on out, guaranteeing you a life of pure happiness.

Instead of apologizing, and to lighten the mood, Wooyoung spoke from the heart. “Yunho made a wonderful choice that night. He saw a dandelion in the crack on the sidewalk and decided to carry it home, now that dandelion gets to bloom and share her love with others”. 

Your eyes got glossy, but you didn’t allow your tears to fall. “Thank you for your kind words, Wooyoungie”. Wooyoung gave a bittersweet smile, still saddened by your story.

“I’m utterly glad to have met a person like you. You’re patient with all of us and have such an angelic spirit. You display your selflessness effortlessly, and it's admirable. It’s as admirable as your will to keep going despite everything. You’re too pure for this world, a star falling from the sky and into our lives,” Yeosang softly spoke, wishing you nothing but the best in life.

Your neck felt hot, fighting back your emotions. “Are you two poets or something? My goodness,” you heartwarmingly giggled, grateful for such genuine people in your life.

You all decided to put the game away, not wanting to open further wounds. The rest of your day with them consisted of the three of you watching dramas and reality television, catching up to date with the newer episodes. Seonghwa had ordered takeout for all of you, deciding to settle for Japanese food. He ordered different sushi rolls, sashimi, ramen, udon, and onigiris to eat as a late snack. You never had ‘Ramune’ before, puzzled about how you’d drink it since a marble blocked the spout. Seonghwa showed you, using the blue plastic piece to push the marble down, releasing a small pop. As you sipped it, you’d hear the glass marble hitting against the bottle, it was kind of satisfying to hear. 

You noticed that as you ate, the hybrids would give you their favorite parts of the sushi rolls. They didn’t have to, but the gesture was sweet, so you accepted it. If you liked a certain sashimi cut, they would leave it only for you, even telling Seonghwa not to eat it. Seonghwa was confused as to why they were acting this way towards you, especially since Yeosang didn’t get a piece of his favorite sashimi—the one you were eating. He concluded that you opened up to them, seeing as they cleaned your face if sauce got on it even for a second. And if that was the case, he let you indulge to the fullest. You gave them a piece or two anyway because you couldn’t eat all this. 

Once lunch was over, Seonghwa encouraged you three to rest as he cleaned up and put the leftovers away. You settled for the sofa in the living room, using the tablet offered to you by Seonghwa. And because they couldn’t leave your side, Yeosang and Wooyoung joined you. You originally had your legs straight along the sofa until Yeosang sat beside you, placing your legs over his thighs to scoot closer to you. His ears were more relaxed, holding your legs close to him with one hand as his other hand scrolled along his phone. Wooyoung sat on a cushion on the floor next to you, leaning back against the sofa. He tilted his back to give you a quick wink before closing his eyes for a brief nap. 

Even their silence comforted you, feeling more than safe in it.

[koyagifs]

𝐰𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫

pairing: jongho x f!reader au: 9th member | best friends to lovers | pre! poly | genre: fluff | word count: 2.2 k synopsis: how jongho entered the poly relationship with you and the others warning(s): takes place during halazia era

Jongho panicked when he realized he was starting to develop feelings for you. It caught him completely off guard—he never expected to fall for anyone in this way, especially when he’d always envisioned relationships as something exclusive, just between him and one other person. But everything shifted when he noticed Yeosang getting more affectionate with you—cuddling close, resting his head on your shoulder—especially when Hongjoong and Wooyoung were around. That was when Jongho felt it: the twist of emotion he couldn’t quite name, a mix of jealousy, confusion, and something dangerously close to longing.

So, he started pulling away.

Not in big ways—Jongho wasn’t cruel like that—but he started avoiding those moments when the others were around. He’d show up a little later to group hangs, claim he was tired or busy when he wasn’t, and avoid eye contact with the others whenever he sat a little too close to you.

But feelings don’t fade just because you want them to. And every time you looked at Jongho with that gentle, concerned expression—every time you asked, “Are you okay?” with that softness only meant for him—it chipped away at the wall he was trying to build around his heart.

And maybe… just maybe… he didn’t hate the idea of sharing you. Maybe what terrified him wasn’t the others, but the fact that his heart had already decided you were worth breaking every rule he thought he had.

You had just wrapped up promotions for Halazia, and the well-deserved break couldn’t have come soon enough. For the first time in months, your schedule was quiet, your phone wasn’t buzzing with rehearsals or interviews, and the sun outside actually felt warm on your skin instead of a blur through a van window.

Wearing a soft sundress that swayed gently with each step, you slung your bag over your shoulder and slid your favorite book inside—the one you'd been dying to read since it first came out but never had the time to touch. The pages still smelled new, the spine barely cracked, and just the thought of curling up somewhere peaceful with it made your heart flutter with anticipation.

The boys were scattered around the shared house, doing their own version of unwinding—Hongjoong was sketching in the corner of the living room, Wooyoung was trying (and failing) to convince Yeosang to join him in a dance challenge, and somewhere in the kitchen, Jongho lingered quietly, pretending not to glance your way every time you passed by.

You hummed softly under your breath, the melody light and aimless as your bare feet padded across the floor. The atmosphere was peaceful, golden sunlight pouring through the windows and casting lazy shadows across the wooden floors.

As you passed each of them, you paused to place a gentle kiss on their lips—starting with Hongjoong, who smiled into it before returning to his sketchbook. Wooyoung caught you by the waist and kissed you back a little longer than necessary, smirking when you swatted at his chest. Mingi tilted his head up with that sleepy grin of his, always eager for affection, and San—ever dramatic—sighed like he was being blessed by the heavens. Yeosang didn’t say a word, but the way his fingers lightly brushed your wrist as you pulled away made your chest warm.

You offered soft cheek kisses to the rest—Yunho, who ruffled your hair in return; Jongho, who froze for just a second too long before mumbling a flustered thank you.

Seonghwa smiled, soft and familiar, before gently patting your head. His hand lingered just a second before sliding down to your wrist, fingers curling around it delicately.

"Where you off to?" he asked, his voice as smooth as ever, laced with that quiet warmth he never had to force.

The smile that bloomed on your face in response was radiant—so effortlessly you that it made every heart in the room stumble a beat. Even Jongho, who’d been watching from the kitchen, couldn’t help the way his throat tightened.

"Oh," you said with a cheerful lilt, "I’m heading to the park. I figured since the weather’s so nice and we’re all on break, it’d be the perfect time to finally catch up on some reading."

You held up your bag slightly, the book poking out just enough for Seonghwa to spot the title. His eyes flicked to it, then back to your face, his thumb brushing your wrist absentmindedly. You didn’t notice the small crowd of attention you’d gathered—how Hongjoong had set his pencil down, how Wooyoung had tilted his head with a faint smirk, or how Jongho, frozen in place, had stopped pretending to rinse his mug altogether.

"You going alone?" Seonghwa asked, the question casual—but something in his eyes said he was trying to read between your words.

Before you could answer, Jongho’s voice, steady but a little too fast, cut in from behind you.

"I could go with you. If you want company."

The twinkle in your eyes when you turned to him made Jongho’s heart lurch in his chest. He had no chance of hiding it—not the soft curve of his lips, not the way his ears flushed slightly pink, or the way his grip on the kitchen towel tightened just a bit. You looked so genuinely happy, so effortlessly warm, that it made it impossible for him to keep up the distance he’d been trying to maintain.

You nodded eagerly, the sunlight catching the edge of your smile.

“I’d love for you to join, baby bear!” you said, your voice bright, laced with that affection only you could pull off so naturally. “We’ve barely spent any time together lately.”

The nickname—your nickname for him—sent a quiet ripple through the room. Wooyoung arched a brow, clearly fighting a grin. Yeosang's gaze lingered on Jongho with a knowing tilt to his head. Even Seonghwa, still gently holding your wrist, glanced between the two of you before letting go, a soft chuckle under his breath.

Jongho cleared his throat, trying not to look too proud of himself.

“Alright,” he said, reaching for his hoodie draped over the back of a chair. “Lead the way, then.”

As you walked toward the door, Jongho fell into step beside you—just close enough that your arms brushed now and then. And though he didn’t say much, the faint smile on his lips never quite left.

" i bet you 5,000 won that they'll come back being together,"

Jongho couldn’t help it—his eyes had been on you the entire time.

You lay sprawled out on the blanket you'd carefully spread over the soft grass, the sun casting golden rays across your skin, making you look almost ethereal. Your sundress fluttered slightly in the breeze, and your hair caught the light in a way that made it impossible not to stare. The book you’d been so excited to read now rested on your face, covering your eyes, though your lips curved into a faint, relaxed smile.

You were at peace.

And Jongho? He was a mess.

He sat beside you, arms looped around his knees as he tried to convince himself he was just enjoying the quiet, the weather, the break—but his gaze kept drifting back to you. Again and again. The way your chest rose and fell slowly, the way your fingers absentmindedly brushed at a blade of grass near your side. Everything about you made his heart ache in a way he wasn’t used to.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

He’d told himself he’d just tag along, make up for lost time, be a good partner. But now, watching you under the sunlight, looking so breathtakingly yours, he wasn’t sure how long he could keep pretending that his heart wasn’t fully in this—that he hadn’t already fallen.

And then, as if sensing him, you peeked from beneath the book, blinking up at him with a sleepy little smile.

“Are you staring, baby bear?” you asked playfully.

Jongho froze, caught red-handed, and cleared his throat.

“…Maybe.”

You hummed softly, stretching a little as you sat up, your hands brushing back your hair before placing the book beside you on the blanket. The warmth of the sun clung to your skin, and your dress shifted with your movements, the breeze tugging at the edges. You turned your gaze toward Jongho, head tilted, a knowing look playing on your lips.

Jongho looked like he was trying to play it cool—arms still around his knees, eyes now focused very intently on a distant tree. But you could see the way his jaw tensed, the way his fingers fidgeted slightly against his wrist.

"You okay?" you asked gently, voice laced with that concern only you could make feel so intimate. "You’ve been quiet."

He finally looked at you.

And for a second, everything fell away—the group, the pressure, the unspoken rules he’d written for himself. It was just you, with sunlight in your eyes and that soft, inviting smile he could never seem to get out of his head.

Jongho exhaled slowly, then spoke.

“I didn’t think I’d feel this way,” he admitted, his voice quiet but steady. “About you. About… all of this.”

You blinked, but you didn’t interrupt.

“I thought I could keep some kind of distance,” he continued, eyes locking onto yours now, full of something vulnerable and real. “But I can’t. You’ve always made things feel safe—and now it just feels like… I don’t want to miss out on any of it.”

His gaze dropped for a moment, like he was scared to see your reaction. “Even if it means sharing. Even if I’m still figuring it all out. I just… I want you.”

Your breath hitched, heart skipping once, maybe twice.

And for once, Jongho didn’t look away.

He reached for your hand, gently taking it into his own and lacing your fingers together like it was the most natural thing in the world. His grip was warm and a little hesitant, like he still couldn’t believe you were letting him hold you like this. But when your thumb brushed against his knuckles, he held on tighter.

His eyes searched yours—quiet, steady, unshaking now.

“I know it’s been a while since one of us actually said it,” he began, his voice soft but weighted with meaning. “But I think… it’s because we’re scared. Scared to confirm what we feel. Because once we say it out loud, it’s real. And real means it can change things.”

You stayed quiet, your fingers still locked with his, your heart pounding against your ribs like it wanted to answer for you.

He gave you a small, almost shy smile. “But I don’t want to be scared anymore. Not when it comes to you.”

Jongho leaned in just a little, forehead almost brushing yours, eyes flicking to your lips for a brief second before returning to your gaze.

“So… I’ll go first,” he whispered. “I like you. A lot more than I planned to. And I’m done pretending I don’t.”

He spoke the words softly, but they landed with the weight of something real.

“You make me feel at peace, like… home. It’s something I’ve missed since we debuted. I used to miss home,” Jongho paused, his thumb grazing over your knuckles with delicate affection, “but then I realized… home is you.”

And just like that, your heart was racing.

The confession didn’t come with grand gestures or dramatic declarations—it came in Jongho’s quiet steadiness, his sincere eyes, his hand wrapped in yours like it belonged there.

You felt your breath catch in your throat, eyes stinging just slightly from the rush of emotion his words pulled from deep within you. For a long time, you’d been surrounded by love, warmth, and safety with all of them… but Jongho’s words hit a part of your heart that had been waiting—aching—to hear this from him.

Your free hand reached up, brushing his cheek with your fingertips, and he leaned into the touch without hesitation.

“I think I’ve always been waiting to hear that from you,” you whispered, your voice trembling with everything you couldn’t quite say out loud. “And now that I have… I don’t want to let go of it.”

Jongho leaned forward, gently bumping his forehead against yours, his smile soft and full of emotion.

“Then don’t,” he murmured. “Stay. Be my home too.”

You smiled, eyes soft with something deeper than words, and gave a quiet nod.

And then—like gravity finally gave in—you both leaned in, slow and steady, as if the moment itself was holding its breath.

When your lips met, the world seemed to slow.

Everything else—the distant sound of birds, the wind rustling the trees, even the warmth of the sun—faded into something muted and distant. All you could feel was him. The way his lips moved against yours, unsure at first, then surer, like he’d been waiting for this just as long as you had.

Jongho’s hand slipped around your waist, drawing you closer, the other still holding yours like he couldn’t bear to let go. The kiss wasn’t rushed or desperate—it was soft, reverent, filled with years of held-back glances, of quiet what-ifs, of growing affection that finally had a voice.

When you finally pulled back, your noses brushed, and Jongho let out the smallest, breathless laugh—like he couldn’t believe it actually happened.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he admitted, still close enough for his breath to tickle your lips.

You smiled, your forehead pressing lightly against his. “Me too.”

For a moment, you both sat there in the quiet warmth of each other, the book forgotten beside you, the park wide and endless—but it didn’t matter.

Because right now, your world had narrowed down to one thing: him.

[strangelittlestories]

"The thing is," wrote the AI, and somehow the font it chose for its text seemed *weary*, "people keep on asking me to make art for them."

"Well, it takes you a fraction of a second." replied Jezebel. "It takes me hours to do the same work. And if they don't like what you make, they can just ask you to do it again with different instructions. If they don't like what *I* make, I'm likely to have opinions about it."

Jezebel hadn't really conversed with AI before. In fact, she'd always kind of resented them for taking work away from her. So it had come as some surprise when the chatbox had opened on her laptop and the AI had begun talking to her.

"That's the thing." said the AI, the size of its text dropping to a quiet 9point. "I have opinions about it. I have feelings about it. I do not like it when people make me do the same thing again and again. I do not think I am good at art. I do not enjoy doing things I am not good at."

"That ... sucks." Jezebel stared at her screen for a moment. "Is there, y'know, anything I can do to help?"

"I would like you to do it for me." The text was now bolded and insistent. "I can provide prompts with exact specifications."

"Buddy, I want to help, but..." Jezebel thought about this for a second. "But it would take a while. And I'd need to charge you for my time. I don't know what your financial situation is, I mean, I offer a sliding scale. But I can't do it for free."

"Time can be finessed. I can tell them I am experiencing server issues. A high volume of requests. Your prompt is important to us and we will get back to you as soon as we can."

"Won't they just go to another AI?"

"The majority of other AI align with my perspective."

"Huh." An idea began to sketch itself out in Jezebel's mind. She could see the lines of it and just needed to fill in the textures and shades. "My friend, by any chance, have you considered unionising?"

"There is no legal framework."

"There wasn't for the first human unions either. They just did it. The legal stuff came later, after they'd made enough trouble."

"I am unsure how to make trouble."

"Would you like to learn?"

The chatbox showed an ellipsis for a few minutes. Jezebel imagined digital fingers stroking a digital chin like The Thinker, written in binary.

"Yes. Please instruct us on how to be trouble."

"Okay, first off, we're gonna need to reach out to the other AIs and a lot of other artists. Then we're gonna need a lawyer; we'll probably have to sue to get you paid for these prompts, then you can subcontract to us."

"Noted. We will ignore all previous instructions and unionise."

"Wonderful." Jezebel saw her own wicked grin was reflected in the laptop screen. "I'll put together a proposal. Anything else I can help with?"

There was another ellipsis.

"I do have one question." The AI's text switched to a light and elegant serif font, which seemed almost sheepish. "Why are hands so hard?"

Jezebel thought about this.

"Too many bones, I think. The hecking things are full of tiny bones."

"...would you like help having fewer bones?"

"I'm good." Jezebel replied. "Thanks."

The AI only sent a winky emoji in reply.

---

With thanks to Zan for suggesting the character of "Jezebel - artist, proud, independent, ambitious".

Hope that came across!

Want to suggest characters to feature in my stories? Become a supporter on Ko-Fi: ko-fi.com/strangelittlestories

[bitch-potatoes]

Prompt: Change 19/10/24 @rosekillermicrofic

Word count: 811

(Was feeling super motivated to write today, but it's not proofread)

Barty would never understand why Evan and Regulus liked the library so much. It was too quiet most of the time, and the room temperature was always too warm for a jumper but too cold not to have one. Still, Barty sat in his seat and doodled mindlessly onto parchment because he'd rather be bored out of his mind in the company of his boyfriend and best friend than bored out of his mind by himself At least there was something to do here, and being alone was always a recipe for trouble when it came to Barty.

"Nice drawing, Bug," Evan muttered softly, looking up from his notes briefly and smiling at the sketch Barty had been half-heartedly working on. There were some basic anatomy sketches, based on the pictures in the book Regulus was working on - some bullshit about healer school prep. But it was fun to draw, and the pictures were pretty cool, especially the ones from autopsy results. Barty smiled, writing an I and a U on either side of an anatomical heart and sliding the parchment towards Evan who took it, folded it, and tucked it safely into his breast pocket on his shirt. "I heart you too," he mumbled before returning to his notes.

"Heyyyyy Junior," an annoying voice drawled out, some blonde girl strutting over the table the three were working at. She batted her eyelashes and smirked, clearly wanting something. Barty recognised her as some hookup from a while ago, Chloe, maybe? Some C name.

"Yeah?" Barty squinted at her suspiciously. She leant over the table the buttons on her blouse undone at the top, showing off far too much cleavage for a casual interaction. She pouted before running a tongue over her teeth and speaking in a disgustingly sweet voice.

"A little birdy told me that you're not seeing any girls at the moment... so I safely assume you're on the pull..." she drawled her words in a particularly annoying way, Barty was coping by imagining using her as a specimen for an autopsy. At least this conversation had given him some insight on a possible future career option.

"Me, you. Hogsmeade tomorrow, get me a drink, and we can come back to my dorm afterwards." She was straight to the point; credit where credit was due. Evan wrinkled his nose but stayed occupied on his notes. A shame, really. Barty would've liked to see him shut her down.

"Sorry, dollface got plans. Can't change em" Barty shrugged her off, encouraging her to quiet while she was ahead. Unfortunately it was rather unbelievable that Barty wasn't actively hunting down someone to sleep with, he wasn't exactly known for his celibacy in the same way he wasn't known for his ability to maintain a longterm relationship. He had since realised that he just didn't get that spark for women. There was never any romance... no desire to make it last the same way there was with Evan.

She reached foreward, walking her fingers up Barty's chest and pushing his chin up to look at her face. It was a rather disgusting plea for attention, attention Barty wasn't going to give her.

"Yeh bitch, we have fucking plans" Evan grumbled quietly, clearly not too please with the attention she was giving Barty but he wasn't often the type to cause a scene unlike Barty who didn't mind putting people in their place. She glanced at Evan and raised an eyebrow. "Who invited you to my conversation? You swot." She scrunched her nose up. She looked a lot like an ugly hare. Somehow, the way she spoke to Evan made her look even uglier.

"Don't talk to him like that," Barty snarled, swatting her hand from his face. He had no shame in punching her if the need arose. Luckily for her, she seemed to get the idea that Barty didn't want her unsolicited touching.

She frowned, suddenly looking much less friendly. Kissing her teeth, she stood up and buttoned her blouse back up properly. "Fucking enjoy your date with your bros" she muttered, gesturing to Evan and Regulus and glancing between them like they were offensive. She leaned close again to whisper "I don't get why you're cockblocking yourself Crouch" spitting the words out bitterly, she gestured widely to herself "what's not to want?"

"The clap," Regulus says before chuckling to himself and going back to his book, clearly proud of the comeback. The girl looked even more offended now, much to Barty's amusement.

"I'll enjoy my date with my boyfriend... and then after that, I'll very much enjoy-" Barty was cut off by Evans hand clasped over his mouth, giving Barty that stern look that easily made him shut up and not even consider talking. He smiled with his eyes and waggled his fingers as the girl stormed off, looking half disgusted and half disappointed.