#dog friendly bookstore

[wellesleybooks]

E-Newsletter Dog of the Week

Geronimo Stilton is a 15-week-old Goldendoodle named after the beloved early-reader character. His humans are still finding out his likes and dislikes, but, so far, we know that he likes to chew on sweatshirt strings and to jump from high places.

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#dog of the week #new england bookseller #wellesley books #dog friendly #dog friendly bookstore #geronimo stilton #golden doodle #scholastic books #puppy love

[charliemwrites]

Sniff sniff sneeze… woof

(CW for dubcon)

You’re browsing the back section of the bookstore when the scent of pine tickles your nose. It’s the only warning you get before a large hand lands on your hip, a low voice next to your ear.

“Quite a selection ye’ve got there.”

You nearly drop the stack, only for a thick pair of arms to come from either side, steadying you.

Soap. You stare in shock at the corded muscles of his forearms, the dark tattoo decorating one. His hands are so big and rough against the backs of yours. What would they feel like holding your own, on your wrists, your thighs…

“Th-thanks,” you manage, tucking your books to your chest and spinning around.

He doesn’t give you any room to do so, forcing you to brush up against him. Even pressing your shoulders to the shelves doesn’t offer much space between your bodies; he looms over you, eyes unnaturally bright in the soft bookshop lighting.

“Um… hi,” you manage after a moment, the silence so thick and heavy it’s like a weight on your tongue.

The smile he offers you feels almost mean.

“Hey yourself, hen. Nice to see you without all the…. distractions.”

All the convenient excuses to leave, you think grumpily.

“How - I mean… do you live in town?”

He tilts his head oddly. “Aye, mostly.”

“Mostly?”

He ignores you, eyes flicking again to the titles stacked in your arms.

“Looking for inspiration there, are we?” he asks, tongue rolling slowly over his bottom lip. “Doesn’t all hafta stay in your imagination.”

You flush hotly. Didn’t think he’d even recognize any of those titles.

“That’s not - it’s just for fun,” you babble. “I mean - it’s none of your business either way.”

God, you’ve never wished for Johnny and his man-hating tendencies more.

“‘S a little my business, aye? Gotta know just how you want me to ruin you.” He narrows his eyes a bit in amusement, teeth peeking out with his smirk. “What name you wanna scream.”

You puff up a bit, humiliation thankfully morphing into anger.

“The only name I’m going to call you is — eep!”

He’s got your face in one massive hand, cheeks pressed to your teeth. Your heart thunders in your chest, head spinning with confused adrenaline.

“Maybe we should start right here, eh? I can spank this pretty ass while you try out different names.” He leans in close, lips brushing yours. “If you’re lucky, you’ll find one I like before you lose the ability to sit.”

You whimper and squeeze your eyes shut, mortified to realize the dirt and gravel in his voice is making you slick.

“Stop it,” you whine, pathetic to your own ears.

Then all at once he lets you go and takes a big step back nearly to the other side of the aisle. His smile is easy and friendly, arms swinging casually by his side. The only indication of what he just said, what he just did, is the unnatural gleam in his eye.

“Something like that is what you’re after, aye?” he asks. “Here.” He reaches to the side of you shoulder and plucks a book off the shelf, setting it on top of your selections.

“You’ll like this I think.”

He winks and then saunters off, hands buried in his pockets.

—

When you get home, Johnny greets you at the door, immediately sniffing all the places Soap touched. He even noses at the book Soap picked out - and dammit, it was one you were looking for. Told yourself you weren’t going to let him ruin it…. and that it means nothing that it’s the first one you’re going to read.

But first…

“I’ll go outside with you in a little bit, bud.”

You head straight for your bedroom and your fully charged toy in the nightstand. Johnny saunters in, ears perked.

“Just… just gotta get it out of my system,” you mutter to yourself. “It’s fine since he’s not here.”

You won’t admit to anyone, ever, not even your dog, that you fantasize about Soap making good on his threat while you fuck yourself. Thinking about that big, calloused hand spanking you raw right there in front of god and everybody while you sob “daddy please.”

The next time you run into Soap - a less raunchy, but still exhilarating encounter in the Tescos where he reminds you get lube - you barely say hi to Johnny before making a beeline for your room. And then promptly throw it at the wall in a fit of frustration when you find the battery dead.

#thoughts™️ #cod #my writing #fanfiction #dark fic #reader fic #woof woof johnny #woof woof au #wolf john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader

[nichuuu]

Dried Things & Humanity

말린 것들과 인류

Word count: 13k+ SMUTLESS FIC

"The world, after all, was still a place of bottomless horror. It was by no means a place of childlike simplicity where everything could be settled by a simple then-and-there decision" ~Osamu Dazai

Dried flowers. 

They sat by your bedside, a constant reminder of how far you would go for love—A love that would never be anything more than a short-lived euphoria. They’d died some time ago, wilting rather quickly under a lack of care, but you kept them. The text that came when spring first rolled around saying hey let’s break up was not expected, neither was the part where she blocked you, nor was the part where you almost jumped off a bridge. Yet it all happened, a confusing, muddled, mish mash of events that went down over the span of a week. If it weren’t for your friends, you would be at the bottom of the river by now, joining your grandfather and maybe your family dog up in the clouds, or wherever it was that spirits wandered to. At the moment, getting out of this life didn’t seem like too bad of an idea.

You stupid child! Your mother had chided when she found out about what you almost did. What do you think you would’ve achieved with that? What good will it do? 

Then she hugged you, held you tight and sobbed as she thanked god for letting you live another day. Frankly, you didn’t know what was the appropriate response for your mother. You opted to hug her back, tearfully whispering your endless apologies to her. Even though you promised to never make another attempt on your life, the fear of losing her only boy still lingered in your mother’s mind. Your mother and father were always in the office. So, in fear that living alone would drive you to the worst possible option, she sent you to live with your uncle who ran a secondhand bookshop in a small town not too far from the city. She filled him in with what happened and pleaded for him to help you “recover”.

“Don’t worry little sis,” he assured your mother. He threw an arm around you, “I’ll take care of him like he’s my own son. We’ll get along, won’t we?”

Park Sang-hoon—the people living in the area called him “the librarian”—was your mother’s older brother. You hadn’t seen him since you graduated from middle school, and he’d certainly aged from the last time you saw him. The hair that was once jet black and slicked back was turning white and receding. The same friendly complexion remained however, the amiable smile that you remembered greeting you when he opened the door to his house. It was a stone's throw away from the bookstore.

The house and the business had been imparted upon him by your grandparents. It was relatively small, but there was enough room for the two of you to live with your own privacy (though that didn't really matter since he’d just come barging into the room you stayed in anyway.)

The door to your room flung open. “Hey kid! Rise and shine!”

You grumbled something incoherent and pulled the blanket over your head. 

“Up! Up! It’s time to get up!” your uncle bellowed in a sing-song tone, “there are so many things to see and do! Get up you lazy child!”

Your blanket was yanked off your entire body.

“Is this really necessary?” you snapped. Your uncle grinned.

“No. But it’s fun,” he beamed. You rolled your eyes and rolled onto your left side, you back facing him, 

“Leave me alone…” you muttered, “let me sleep…”

“I’ve been letting you do that for the past week,” your uncle huffed, “now your mother is calling me, demanding to know if you’d even emerged from this room. She said some mean things to me, you know?”

You sighed and turned onto your back. “I’ll go out tomorrow…”

Your uncle sighed. “Let me tell you something…”

Let me tell you something was the signal for you to tune out. “Let me tell you something”, “Let me tell you this”—your uncle always said these before he launched into a long rambling story that really added no value to what he was trying to say. It was either that or he’d leave you with a cryptic message to decipher yourself. You never understood why he did that, it was probably just an old people thing.

By the time he was done with his little storytime, you were still in bed. With another heavy sigh, your uncle said, “fine… If you’re not gonna go anywhere today, at least come and help me with the store.”

Your mind told you to stay in bed, but your body told you that you needed to get outside. You decided to listen to the latter party for once. 

The bookshop was old, one of those shophouses down a stretch of road that townsfolk usually walked past on the daily. Needless to say, the store wasn’t the most appealing from the outside. The inside however—That was something else.

You remembered visiting the bookstore with your mother once or twice. A stack of books nearly fell on you that time, and your uncle was berated rather viciously. He’d definitely made some improvements in the time you were away. The store was warm, cosy and relatively organised. The shelves were evidently a little worn from the years, but they still looked and felt sturdy to the touch.  It was a welcoming environment, the interior bearing a striking resemblance to a bookstore of the early 90s.

“I’ve kept up with the times!” your uncle boasted proudly, “nowadays everyone and their mothers are all into this retro aesthetic, so I made sure to keep as much of the hip and cool retro feel.”

Your uncle definitely did his research. You couldn’t help but look upon the shelves filled with books with awe. “This is…”

“Pretty lit, am I right?” your uncle grinned. You cringed.

Your uncle frowned. “What? Did I not use the phrase correctly?”

“N-No it’s just… Ah whatever,” you muttered.

“Damn… I swear I had the meaning for that one down,” your uncle muttered, “the slang of the youth… Such an odd thing.”

After giving you a little more time to admire the place, your uncle tossed you an apron and instructed you to put it on. 

“I’m alright with letting you stay with me for free,” your uncle told you as he helped you tie the strings of the apron behind your back, “but I won’t let you wallow in this post-breakup sadness all day.”

He spun you around, his hands gripping your shoulders tightly. “You just graduated from highschool, no?”

You nodded. 

“Perfect, you’ll need some job experience then,” he grinned, “from now on. You’ll work for me till your stay here is over!”

And so it began. From that day onwards, you started filling shelves, dusting books, pasting on price tags and flipping through pages of books that had been sold to the store to assess the state of the book. It was far from enjoyable in the beginning. It felt akin to the life of Andy Dufrane in Shawshank redemption, the same old routine repeated day after day in what felt like an endless cycle. You were up early in the morning to open the shop with your uncle, the brown apron on your person by 7am in the morning and the door to the shop open by 9am after you were with the opening up preparations. You had to flip the plastic sign hanging on the door from “open” to “closed” every morning, and from “open” back to “closed” in the late evenings. Lunch was usually around 12pm, where your uncle would go out to one of the nearby restaurants to get lunch for the two of you. You’d sit opposite each other in the small break room that sat behind the counter, munching on whatever he bought. 

Handling customers was also another gruelling task. You admittedly didn’t have a voracious appetite for books, many authors sounding foreign to you. A good majority of the books that the store had on hand were classics from esteemed authors, varying in language, length and appeal. When customers asked you what you’d recommend, you could only shrug, earning yourself a nasty gare before they walked off. When they asked about the disparity between the prices of the same book, you could only stare blankly before calling to your uncle.The store had duplicates of some books, the only thing separating the copies being the cover art or the type of book cover. 

“Let me tell you something,” your uncle had told you one fine day, “hardcover books are much more valuable than the usual soft cover books. You want to know why?”

That last part wasn’t a question, rather more of a filler. Apparently, a hardcover was typically more durable, allowing it to better protect the pages within. This meant that the book would stay in better condition for longer. Ultimately, the process and materials needed for hardcover book printing were more expensive, hence this cost is passed on to readers. 

“Capitalism,” you muttered, placing the hardcover version of Greek Lessons by Han Kang on the shelf. 

As for the cover art—Some covers were objectively more appealing than the other, making the book more valuable. This was the case for Osamu Dazai’s No Longer Human. The two covers looked about the same to you. 

 On some days, you wondered how such an old secondhand bookstore could’ve lasted for so long. There were days where you only sold two books for little Won each, and those were typically on weekdays where some of the townsfolk—usually on the more elderly side—would come through the doors and browse through the books. But on the weekends, you were reminded just how hectic this place could get. The youth from the city loved to flood the shop over the weekends, making the commute from the heart of the country to this small shop in a small town to browse through the seemingly endless selection of books.The line to the counter often snaked out the door and onto the street on those days, and your fingers would be aching by the end of the day—A byproduct of gripping those handles of those paper bags while struggling to get them open.

After a week or two, you got used to the whole routine. It didn’t help to remove the monotony of your tasks however, and you often found yourself wondering how your uncle could run this place on his own for so long. With the memories of your ex still tormenting your mind, you found it hard to focus on your tasks at times. Sometimes, you just didn’t want to get up in the mornings. The dried flowers by your bedside were a constant reminder of the pain. You’d bought them for her on the day that text came, now you couldn’t let go of them.

One evening, your uncle decided to close up the shop a little earlier. It’d been a slow Wednesday, so there was no harm in resting up a little earlier than usual. 

“Come with me,” he told you after he’d locked the shutter in place, “I want to take you somewhere.”

You walked up the stretch with him, walking past the rows of shophouses that lined the street. You saw bookstores that looked similar to your uncle’s a couple of times, prompting you to wonder just how many people sold secondhand books on this stretch. 

He took you to a small bridge at the end of the road. It was one of those old, traditional Korean bridges with the stone tiling that arched over the water. He took you up to its apex and made you look out into the water. 

“What do you see?” he asked you.

“Is this one of those stupid lectures again?” you muttered.

“Just answer me.”

You sighed. “I see the water and some trees.”

“Good. What else?” he urged. 

“There’s nothing else,” you told him.

“Wrong. Look again.”

You rolled your eyes and set your sights a little further. “I see Cogongrass.”

“What else?”

You were certain that this was one of his stupid little talks again. “Just tell me what you want to say, uncle!”

“Always so impatient…” he chuckled.

Gently, he grabbed your chin and tipped it up. With his other hand, he pointed out into the distance—Past the trees, water, the cogon grass and the roofs of the shophouses. There, you saw the mountains and the roads that stretched for kilometres, the faint shape of those big blue signs that pointed you in the directions to different places.

“You limit yourself to what you see in this area,” he explained, “but you fail to see past this river and this small town.”

He turned you back to face him. You were a little taller than him, so he had to look up at you. He placed both his hands on your shoulders, holding them firmly. 

“You must learn to set your sights further, dear nephew,” he told you, “learn to see past the trees and the water in your mind. Then and only then, will you be able to live once more.” 

The cryptic message left you admittedly puzzled on the way home. It took you some thinking to read between the lines and understand what your uncle had told you—You had to look past the memories of your ex in order to move on with your life. 

“Excellent,” your uncle had praised when you knocked on his door to ask if your interpretation of his message was correct, “I hope that you can remember this. I hate to see you moping around my store. It scares my customers away too!”

Your first step in looking past the memories was to toss out the dried flowers from your bedside. Even though it was painful, you did it. You knew you needed to.

In its place by your bedside, you bought an alarm clock—one of those old ones that still used the hammers to knock the two small bells—And a framed photograph of the town. You bought both of them from one of the nice old ladies who ran a souvenir shop just down the road. 

It was the start of a new beginning. It felt like you were human once more.

***

Dried Persimmon.

That was what you were munching on when you were handed your first paycheck from your uncle.

“W-Why are you paying me?” you stammered, “I-I thought this was just something to occupy my time!”

“I may be cheap, but I won’t exploit my own nephew!” your uncle laughed, “now quit sneaking snacks on your shift and get back to work!” 

You knew that your uncle was generous, but you never expected him to be this generous. With a smile, you wiped the bits of the dried fruit from the corners of your lips before pocketing the envelope. 

“Thanks,” you beamed. You raised the small jar of dried persimmons and asked, “want one?”

“Tsk. I’m a professional, I don’t eat on my shift,” he sneered. 

“You sure?” you confirmed, “this is a fresh batch from Miss Cho’s…”

“From Miss Cho’s?” he gasped, “gimme some of that!”

You had become well acquainted with the townsfolk, especially with the ones that ran the stores on the same stretch as the bookstore. Sometimes, the sweet old ladies from down the road would come in to deliver some gifts to you and your uncle. Everyone seemed to be friends in this town. Miss Cho was one of the many townsfolk that specialised in dried goods. A sweet lady really, a little older than your mother but not as old as your uncle. Persimmons were seasonal fruits, so they were naturally high in demand in late spring. 

You let your uncle take one piece of the dried fruit before closing the lid and setting it atop the table in the break room. Your uncle stepped aside to let you exit, and you went to continue your shift. 

Surprisingly, it didn’t take too long to move on from your ex. Yes, you did share some fond memories with her, but you found these “core memories” made with her easy to forget. She no longer appeared in your dreams, neither did you think about her when you were going about your tasks. She’d become a distant pain, a pain that you never intend to revisit. 

Once, she did happen to come by the bookstore on a weekend. She walked into the crowded store, hand in hand with a brand new boyfriend while you were calculating somebody’s purchase. You caught yourself staring at her as she browsed through the books, her boyfriend lingering close by as he read over her shoulder. It was then that your uncle firmly grabbed you by the shoulder. He’d seen pictures of her. He could recognise her on sight

“Look past the trees and the water,” he reminded you, before going back to checking out books. You tore away your gaze from them and continued with your work.

When she came out to the counter to pay, the look of shock on her face almost made you want to double over in laughter. Swiftly and wordlessly, you took her books and packaged them neatly in a bag. 

“That will be forty-thousand Won ma’am,” you had smiled respectfully. She was still staring at you, her mouth open in the shape of an “o”.  Her boyfriend had to pay and take the goods from you before directing her out of the store. 

When they left, your uncle gave you a gentle pat on your hand. Well done was what he was trying to say. 

True to your uncle’s lesson, once you had gotten over her, you felt like you were alive. You found that you quickly took a liking to this new lifestyle, immersing yourself in the wide array of books that were at your disposal and even taking home a few to read. It felt like a fresh new chapter had begun in your life, and you were more than ready to welcome its start. The monotony was now welcomed in this slower-paced segment of your life.

“By the way,” your uncle called to you as you set down a box of books. He’d just bought them off a guy moving overseas. “I have a feeling that business will start to pick up soon!’

“Why’s that?” you asked.

“You’ll see…” he smiled. He popped another dried persimmon into his mouth. “Damn! This batch is bussin!”

You cringed. You could get used to life in this small town, but you knew that you’d never get used to your uncle throwing out the slang of your generation. You wondered if he had Tik Tok on his phone or if he’d seen one too many Instagram reels.

With your box cutter, you cut open the tape that sealed the cardboard box, the one that housed the goods. You opened the box. 

“The hell…” you muttered as you stared at the books within, “who did you get these off?”

“Some preschool principal. What’s up?” your uncle asked. 

You produced one of the many alarmingly thin books from the box. “Hate to break it to you but… These are all children’s books.”

Your uncle was never one to swear, but he made a rare exception for that moment. 

“Fuck!” he cussed rather loudly, “I should’ve asked what the contents were!”

You chuckled and placed the book back into the cardboard box. “Don’t worry uncle, we can always sell these to the daycare, can’t we?”

“Bourgeoisie scumbag! I paid a lot for that!” your uncle continued to ramble. You decided that it would be best to silently push the box into the storeroom while he let his frustrations out.

***

Dried leaves. 

That's what you were sweeping when a black van rolled into the stretch of street. The front doors opened and a man and a woman stepped out. It was early autumn. The leaves of those trees that grew next to the bookstore—Once beautiful and elegant in nature—became pesky as their leaves had begun to wither and fall. Your uncle saw the mess outside the store and immediately got you to start sweeping it up. He couldn’t stand the sight of it.

You halted your broom as the man and woman approached you. 

“Hello,” the woman greeted you, “is this Park’s second hand books?” 

You nodded and pointed at the sign above you. The woman grinned. She turned and told the man to get the gear out. 

You recognised the city accent in their voices. 

The man wrapped around the vehicle and opened the trunk. You tried to look into the van but found that the tinted windows didn’t let you see anything. The man came back around, a heavy video camera—those ones they used to film movies—on his shoulder. The woman approached the door of the van and pulled it open. 

Five girls got out of the van, selfie sticks with Gopros attached to the end in their hands as they filed out of the vehicle one by one. It took a moment for you to recognize the five of them, and another moment to realise that there were global superstars standing right before you. 

In a wordless panic, you dropped the broom and bolted into the store. Your uncle was behind the counter, counting the bills in the cash register when you called him.

“ITZY is in front of the store!” you exclaimed. Your uncle cocked his head.

“ITZY?” he inquired, “is that a new slang or something?”

“N-No! T-Their idols, uncle! There are idols outside the door!” 

It took a moment for your uncle to process what you’d said. Then, he simply smiled. 

“Right… I forgot to tell you about that,” he said. He placed the bills he had been counting back into the register and walked out from behind the counter. 

“Oooh… These girls are much prettier in person,” your uncle mused as he walked by. He opened the door to the store and stepped outside. You could hear his booming voice through the open door. “HELLO! WELCOME! WELCOME!” 

You could hear them exchanging greetings outside the store. Hurriedly, you scanned around the store, looking for any signs of mess. There were thankfully none.

“Come in! It’s rather cold out,” your uncle said, “it’s much warmer in here!”

You quickly stood up straighter, your hands by your sides as the five ITZY girls walked through the door of the store. 

“Welcome to the store!” your uncle grinned, “that over there is my nephew, he runs the place with me for now.”

The girls turned. The feeling of five pairs of eyes on you was nerve-wracking, and the two cameras that started to flank you on either side weren’t helping to ease your nerves. Where did the second camera come from? You couldn’t help but wonder.

You gulped, a tug of war between waving and bowing to the girls ensuing in your head as you stared blankly. 

“He’s uh… A little shy,” your uncle chuckled. Then he gave you a look, one that said hurry up and say hello you dense child.

There was no victor in the mental tug of war. In the end, you resorted to an awkward half wave, half bow. The girls sniggered at your greeting.

Then and there, you wanted to shrink down and hide in the shelf behind you. 

The woman from earlier started speaking to the girls. “This is the final place. Now, we will draw lots to see who goes where!”

She produced a handful of popsicle sticks. The girls started talking about how nervous they were, giggling amongst themselves as they started to draw the sticks one by one. Your uncle stood by the woman, a small smile on his face as he patiently awaited the result.

“Oh. Looks like I’ll be working here!” Shin Yuna smiled as she looked at her stick. You weren’t sure if it was excitement or disappointment that you heard in her voice. 

“Excellent!” your uncle beamed. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen going twenty, sir!” Yuna answered bubbly. 

“Ah! Looks like my nephew will have a friend of his age then!” your uncle laughed. 

“E-Eh?” you blurted, “w-what’s happening?”

Your uncle walked up next to you. He put an arm around your shoulder.

“I’ll explain later,” he whispered.

Yuna giggled and cleared the hair from her face. You made eye contact with her. 

She grinned. 

You felt a burning sensation on your face. 

***

Dried Pollack soup.

That was what you ate with your uncle as people came in to set up cameras around the store. Every corner, every angle, every millimetre was covered by at least one Gopro.

“They said in the email that it was for their Youtube,” your uncle told you, “they're gonna live in this town for a bit, work at some of the stores… Taking a break from their idol activities apparently.”

“B-But why the bookstore?” you inquired. Your uncle shrugged.

“I don’t know. They sent me a 30 page proposal that I didn’t bother to read. I figured that having idols in our store would help boost our business. Get people from other parts to come here—You know what I’m saying?” 

You did not know what he was saying. The whole situation was so overwhelming. An idol working at the bookstore? For how long? What did you need to do?

A knock came on the break room door. You turned and saw a man standing there, Gopro in hand.

“Sorry to disturb you, but can I put a camera in here?” he asked politely. 

Your uncle gave him a look and asked, “is that completely necessary?”

“I-I mean… If you guys are okay with it,” you replied. Your uncle sighed.

“Take the soup out,” he instructed you, “give them space to set up…”

***

A very, very dry mouth. 

That's what you had when Yuna walked into the store for her first day of work. 

She was tailed by one cameraman and another woman, both of them wearing the same shirt that read “JYP CREW”. You could feel the cold sweat on your palms as you handed her the apron that already had her name tag on it. With a rather apparent stutter, you welcomed her to her new job. She smiled, that radiant smile that you’d only seen on your phone screen now right before you. It sent a warm fuzz down your spine. 

Your uncle showed her around, breaking down the various jobs to her as you opened up a box of books—they weren’t children’s books this time—and got to filling the shelves. You could hear every word that came out from your uncle's mouth as you explained the tasks that the idol was to undertake, as well as the opening and closing timings of the store. He finished his run down just as you finished placing the last book from the box on the shelf.

“What should I do now?” you heard her ask. 

“Go help my nephew. I think he could use a hand,” your uncle replied.

“Right! On it!” came her bubbly reply. 

You could feel your heart beating faster as you felt her get closer and closer. 

A tap on your shoulder.

“Hello!’ she greeted you, “let’s work well together!”

You managed to sputter out something. She asked for instructions on what she should do. You blanked out for a second. Then tremulously, you reached into your apron and pulled out the second box cutter. 

“U-Um,” you began. “T-There’s a box of… B-Books in the store… Just… Just uh…”

Her gaze felt piercing even though it was gentle. It’d been awhile since you’d stood before a girl this gorgeous. Your nineteen-year-old hormones were getting to you, sweat beading your forehead as you struggled to give the idol instructions. 

Then suddenly, you ran away. You didn’t know why you ran, but you just ran out of the store and down the street. Getting away from the store was your main task, and you ran quite a good distance in the chilly autumn air before you finally ran out of breath. Clammy, tense and exhausted, you rested outside one of the shophouses along the stretch. 

“Fuck… What’s wrong with me?” you questioned yourself. It was like you’d never talked to a girl in your life. 

It only took a second or two for the adrenaline to fade. In its place came embarrassment as you buried your face in your hands. What are you doing you stupid idiot! Why did you run? You chided yourself, beating your cheek with your own palm. 

You heard someone call your name. You raised your head.

“Why are you slapping yourself in front of my store?” Miss Cho inquired. She was pushing a cart full of pears. They were probably freshly harvested. 

“Oh… Hey Miss Cho,” you greeted her, “I was just… I-I don’t know…”

You ended up pushing Miss Cho’s cart back up the street. 

“She’s a what now?” Miss Cho pressed.

“An idol Miss Cho,” you explained. You eventually got around to telling her the reason as to why you were beating yourself in front of her shop. The concept of someone singing and dancing for a living sounded completely foreign to Miss Cho—Someone who spent most of her life drying fruits and making snacks—So you had to explain it to her. 

“Ah… I remember my daughter saying something about it,” Miss Cho mused, “so… Why did you run away from her?”

“I… Don’t know,” you told her truthfully, “I guess I just freaked out.”

“Because she’s famous?” she pressed. You thought about it for a moment, then you nodded.

Miss Cho stopped addressing you for a moment to greet Mrs Han, the lady that ran one of the restaurants on the stretch with her husband. Miss Cho gave the restaurant owner a whole carton worth of pears, telling Mrs Han to make something tasty out of them before the two of you continued moving along.

“Why are you scared of an Idol?” she continued to question.

“I-I don’t know… I-I guess it’s because she’s popular and all, so I’m scared that I’ll make a fool of myself in front of her,” you reasoned. 

Miss Cho hummed and nodded. “I see…” 

She stopped once more, this time in front of the sweets store. You helped her pull out a crate of apples from the bottom of the stacks of pears and handed it to the store owner. Miss Cho requested for a batch of the sweets when they were ready before the two of you got to moving again. 

“So… Why does this girl being this idol make her any less normal than you?” she asked. 

“P-Pardon?” you stuttered, “I-I never… I never said that…”

Miss Cho chuckled, one of those nice Ahjumma laughs that could warm one’s heart. “You did not, but the way you spoke of her implied it.”

You let that sink in for a moment. Now that you thought of it, you’d made Yuna sound like some high and mighty god that could smite you with a snap of her fingers.

“Just because someone has millions of fans doesn't mean that they’re any less of a human than you and I,” Miss Cho told you, “just because someone is adored doesn't make them more superior. If that was the case, I’d be a warlord by now!”

The dried fruits specialist cackled at her own joke. She always had a tendency to do that.

“You see… The problem with fame is that everyone places you on a pedestal,” she continued, “a mistake could cost your whole reputation. A good choice could gain you more popularity. It’s a never ending game, dehumanising in the sense that these famous people can’t afford to live normal lives. Why? Because they’re not considered normal! That’s not right if you ask me…”

You were wondering where this knowledge was coming from. You made it a mental note to talk to Miss Cho a little more. Was it normal for all the old people in this town to be so wise?

The two of you finally stopped in front of the bookshop. Miss Cho instructed you to take in a crate of pears, assuring you that she could make the rest of the journey down the street herself. You waved goodbye to her and prepared to enter once more.

“Remember,” she called to you. You were just about to open the door. “That girl is human. Treat her the way you’d treat any other human.”

She left you with that nugget of wisdom before she bade you farewell and continued with her journey up the street. You sat on her words for a moment before you entered the bookstore once more. 

Yuna’s head snapped towards the door when she heard the chime of the door. You made eye contact with her. 

Human. 

With a smile, you carried the crate into the store and asked, “pears anyone?”

***

A dry wipe. 

That’s what you gave Yuna to clean the dust off the shelves. Two weeks had elapsed since she’d started working with you and your uncle. You never got used to the fact that there were always cameras around you, nor did you ever get used to the fact that the woman and the cameraman would pull you aside and ask for your opinions on Yuna as an employee every now and then. You would always try to be as honest as possible, excluding any embarrassing slip ups she made in an effort to not badmouth the girl.

Within her first week here, she’d already clocked in late once. She apologised furiously that day, working twice as hard to compensate for her mistake. Standing tall, she could reach for the things that customers couldn’t, making her a great help to the regulars. She learnt quickly, finding the most optimal way to replenish the shelves by her fourth day and figured out the best way to assess the state of the book on her fifth.

Weekends had become more packed because of her, the word that Shin Yuna from ITZY was working at the store getting out rather quickly within the first Saturday she worked here. The next day, you had a flock of Midzy’s in front of the store 3 hours before opening. You had to guide Yuna in through the back entrance to prevent her from being swarmed. While Yuna greeted her fans that came to see her in the store with a big smile, you couldn’t help but notice the hint of tiredness behind her eyes. It was like she didn’t really want to be there, but she had no other choice

Now, she was doing an excellent job getting the dust off the top shelves. 

“I think that’s good enough Yuna,” you told her. She turned to look at you.

“You sure? I think it still needs one more round,” she told you.

“I’ll take your word for it,” you told her, handing her another sheet of dry wipes while you took the blackened one from her hands.

“This is great,” she told you, beginning her final round of cleaning, “it makes me feel like I’m at home again. I feel like I’m a kid.”

Here’s the thing about Yuna—Her joy was contagious. When you saw that smile on her face, you couldn’t help but smile along with her. The silliest things could make her grin, and you’d end up grinning with her even though you didn’t find it amusing. You were convinced that it was a special skill of the sort. 

Yuna wiped up whatever dust she could find, leaving no stone unturned as she completed her task. It was almost closing time, a relatively slow day for the bookstore as usual. Yuna had been completing her shifts diligently, only ever disappearing for lunch and toilet breaks. 

Hell… If she wasn’t some bigshot idol, I’d have her employed full-time in a heartbeat! your uncle had told you over lunch one day. You couldn’t help but agree with him. 

“There! All clean!” Yuna exclaimed. 

“Could you show us the cloth, Yuna?” the lady producer asked her. 

For a moment, you saw a hint of annoyance behind her eyes. Then the usual, childlike wonder took its place and Yuna presented the cloth to the camera.

“Ta-da! All clean!” she beamed proudly. You politely clapped your hands in the background. The female producer gave Yuna a thumbs up before tapping the cameraman’s shoulder. “I think we can wrap up for the day.”

The two turned and walked out of the store. Yuna waited till both of them had exited before letting out a deep sigh. 

“Break from idol activities? Yea right…” she muttered, stepping off the step ladder. You stretched out your hand to take the dry wipe from Yuna. She suddenly seemed to remember that you were there, and that bright smile returned to her face. She handed you the dry wipe, all bubbly and smiley.

“I’m going to wash my hands in the bathroom, boss!” she told you. You nodded and let her go. She skipped off towards the back entrance. Your uncle walked out of the storeroom. He was drenched in sweat, his green shirt turning dark under the moisture.

“Hand me a towel would you?” he requested. You quickly walked behind the counter and tossed him his slightly moist towel. He caught it, smiled, then wiped his sweaty face.

“Who knew organising could take so much out of me?” he chuckled. He looked around. “Where’s Yuna?”

“Bathroom,” you explained. Your uncle gave you his Ah I see expression. Then he took a look at his watch. “Let’s get ready to close up shop.”

You nodded and walked over to the door. As you were about to flip the sign from “open” to “closed”, you saw Yuna walking back towards the shop. You raised an eyebrow.

Coming in from the back would’ve been much quicker…

As she got closer, you could make out the tired look on her face. Then you realised that the cameraman and the female producer were following her once more. So much for wrapping up you thought to yourself as you pushed the door open.

“Yuna!” you called to her, “come in! We’re gonna start closing up!”

The weary look disappeared in a flash. Yuna smiled from ear to ear and began jogging towards the store. You found that the cameraman and producer were far from wrapping up, following the idol back into the bookshop like chicks tailing their mother. 

“H-Hey um… Didn’t you guys say you were wrapping up?” you asked the producer. She turned and looked at you.

“We need as much content as we can get. Gotta keep going,” she told you. Then she left to catch up with the camera man. You were suddenly ill at ease. 

They continued to follow Yuna as she assisted you and your uncle in closing up the shop. They were like shadows, tailing the idol with every move she made. There was an unmistakable look of irritance on Yuna's face, but she only let it out when her back was turned to the camera. At the end of it all, the female producer made the idol shoot a thumbs up to the camera and exclaim, “Another job well done today!”. Only when they had gotten a perfect take of that did they truly cut the camera and start packing up for the day. 

“Try to be a little more energetic tomorrow,” the producer told Yuna. You were all outside the store by then. The shutter was closed and locked. The final piece of equipment had been loaded into their van.

“Got it!” Yuna beamed. The producer nodded and wordlessly got into the van with the camera man. The van pulled away, leaving the three of you to breathe in its exhaust as it became smaller and smaller.

“This street was never built for cars…” your uncle grumbled. Then he turned to Yuna and told her, “good job today. We’ll see you tomorrow!”

Yuna smiled—this time a little less bright and more weary—and bowed. “Thank you for today! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

The idol turned on her heel and walked off towards the small house that she and her members stayed in for the time being. You couldn’t help but notice the way her shoulders seemed to slump. 

“Are we overworking her?” your uncle asked. He must’ve noticed too.

“I’m not sure,” you answered, “I feel like it’s not the work…”

Your uncle raised an eyebrow. “What else could wear her out today? She’s been cleaning and stacking all day!”

You pursed your lips. Then, you turned to your uncle and said, “go home without me. I need to do something.”

You set off after the idol. She hadn’t walked too far over the course of your conversation with your uncle. You caught up to her in a matter of seconds.

“Yuna!” you called her. She turned.

“Hm?” she hummed. 

You stopped before her. “Could I… Take you somewhere?”

You only realised how weird that sounded after the last syllable left your mouth. Inwardly, you cringed and hoped to god that she didn’t find that creepy. Thankfully, she gave you a smile and said, “sure!”

You took her to the bridge where your uncle had imparted his wisdom upon you. The walk there was filled with awkward silence, only broken erratically by your comments on the different shops. In the chilly Autumn air, you walked side by side with Yuna till you reached your destination.

“Wow…” Yuna muttered as you stopped at the apex of the bridge, “this is…”

“It’s prettier in Spring,” you told her.

“I can imagine that,” she whispered. 

She placed her hands on the railings and leaned her body weight against it. You silently stood next to her, letting her take in the breathtaking scenery without disturbance. You had a hunch—The fact that cameras were always on her had been taking a toll on the idol. You figured she needed some time away from the cameras, a moment where she didn’t have to live with the fact that she was perpetually in the frame of a lens that was recording her every move. 

You didn’t know what to do when the first teardrop came rolling down her face. When her body started to shake, you started to panic internally. That wasn’t part of the agenda. You awkwardly fumbled around, patting your pockets to see if you had any tissue to give her. By the time you had pulled out the small tissue packet from your pocket, the girl was already seated on the bridge, knees tucked in and arms locked around her legs as she bawled and bawled. Awkwardly, you sat down next to her. You maintained a distance from Yuna and silently slid your tissue over to her. The last thing you wanted to do was make her feel uncomfortable in her moment of vulnerability. 

You gave her time. Breakdowns like hers would never be finished in a matter of minutes, you knew from experience. The sheer internal bedlam a human could experience under certain circumstances was no joke.

It took some time, but her shoulders eventually stopped heaving so violently, her breaths becoming more uniformed in nature. 

“I-I’m sorry… I-I just…” she started to apologise. 

“It’s… It’s alright,” you assured her, “it… It must be tough for you.”

You gestured to the packet of tissue next to her. She gratefully accepted it, pulling out a couple of pieces to dry her eyes. There were no more words spoken between the two of you, only an odd, comfortably awkward silence in the air as you both sat with your backs to the railing. Yuna sniffled intermittently, and you could hear her drawing tissues to blow her nose. 

You didn’t say anything to comfort her. But that day, you unwittingly made her start trusting you.

***

Dried apple slices. 

That’s what Yuna had bought to share with you. She’d gotten them from Miss Cho’s, and had asked to eat them with you on the bridge after your shifts had ended.

“These are so good!” she exclaimed.

“Miss Cho’s family spent lifetimes perfecting their formula. It’s gotta be good,” you told her.

Yuna squealed happily as she dug her hand into the container and pulled out yet another slice. You could pinpoint the exact moment where the flavour of Miss Cho’s apple slices burst forth in her mouth. Her wide-eyed silent glee was your indication. On the railing of the bridge you sat, side by side with the idol. There was an unexplained affinity between you two since that day she cried next to you. Your interactions in the bookstore had increased, becoming friendlier in nature. It was like something suddenly clicked between the two of you.

“Man… These things make me want to live here forever!” Yuna laughed, kicking her legs like a child as she dug her hand into the container for yet another slice. You smiled as you watched her. She seemed more carefree that day.

“You’re from the city, right?” she asked you, popping another slice into her mouth.

“Yep… I’m just staying here for a while,” you explained to her. 

“Don’t you have to search for a university?” 

You kicked your legs and sighed. “I do… But that can always wait.”

Your truth—You didn’t want to leave this town. Life was much simpler, slower. You’d originally come here to recover, hatred and bitterness brimming in your heart. Now that it had been purged from your being, you found a connection with this humble, small town. You knew that you’d eventually have to leave, go back into the hustle and bustle of the city when you got back to your life as a city boy. You dreaded the arrival of that day. 

You told this to her. A look of understanding crossed her face.

“How long have you been here?” she asked. 

“Since early Spring so… About a month now?” you replied. 

“Ah… And what’s this bitterness that you had?” she pressed. 

You took a dried apple slice and popped it into your mouth. You munched on it a little before replying, “I had to recover from a breakup.”

Yuna chuckled. “Ah… I suppose this place seems like a nice town to get back on your feet.”

You were glad she understood you. 

“You know… This spot is really something,” she told you, “it’s so beautiful and calming… I really gotta thank you for showing it to me.”

You waved it off. “No problem.”

Yuna folded one leg up. “I came here with the girls once after that evening. It was a good break.”

She sighed heavily. You wiped your hand on your jeans.

“It must be tiring,” you said.

“Hm?”

She turned to look at you intently. You stared at your sneakers. The once snow white shoes had been dirtied by gravel and all sorts of elements, but you didn’t really mind. 

“It must be tough living with no breaks… I imagine it can get pretty overwhelming,” you told her. Yuna stared off into the distance for a moment.

“When they told us that we would be coming here to take a break from our idol activities, I thought that we’d actually be able to rest…” she muttered, “then we saw the cameras and got handed those damn selfie sticks… That’s when I knew that we were just making more content while we’re supposedly ‘resting’.”

You could hear the spite in her voice. Your heart went out to her. 

“I hate this,” she continued, “I just want to have a moment where I’m not dancing, where I’m not singing, where I’m not being recorded by some stupid fucking camera while I keep some pretty smile on my face.”

Her truth—There were times where she wondered whether the idol life was meant for her. While they existed, she couldn’t recall the last moment where she was just Shin Yuna, a regular nineteen year old girl finding her way in life. She liked the bookstore, it made her feel human. While she was going about her tasks, the sheer monotony of it all brought some semblance of regularity into her life. For a rare moment, she wasn’t just some money making machine for a company, she was just a regular human, like you. It gave her an unexplainable joy, a joy that was quickly stripped away when she turned and saw a camera being pointed right at her.

She told you this in hew own words. You bit your bottom lip.

“But of course, I can’t let that show, can I?” she laughed bitterly, “gotta be pretty preppy princess Yuna. Can’t be angry, can’t be annoyed, allowed to cry only in concerts or in interviews… Fuck all this idol shit.”

Her life didn’t sound as great as you’d imagined. You admittedly thought that many idols lived in luxury, showered with love and attention from fans worldwide while earning big bucks doing what they always aspired to. In reality, their lives were the most cruel and unforgiving, an endless cycle of practice, classes and content. They were always being watched and monitored. They maintained a happy, cheerful image for their fans, but deep down they just want to take a break for some time before coming back to this life of theirs. It sucked. It sucked big time, but they all lived with it.

The harm that humans could bring upon each other was frightening, yet the world was as such. 

“I think you’re incredibly strong Yuna,” you voiced your sincere thoughts, “it takes a lot to be you. I don’t think many people can confidently look me in the eye and tell me that they’re fine with being watched twenty-four-seven, let alone pretend like everything is great with their life when it really isn’t.”

There was a moment of silence. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, “I… I think I really needed to hear that. You summed it up really well.”

She shot you a sincere smile. You chuckled softly and scratched the nape of your neck. There was a warm sensation on your face. 

“You’re… Welcome I guess?” you told her. She laughed at that.

“You’re funny,” she remarked, “I like your company.”

The warmth on your face was now more of a burning sensation. You looked down at your sneakers, feeling a grin plastered on your lips. Her smile was as contagious as her joy. 

“How… How long are you guys gonna be here for?” you asked her.

“I forgot... I only know that we’ll go back for Chuseok, then come back here for a few more weeks. We’ll be out of here by the middle of November if I recall correctly, then back to comeback preparation in early Winter,” she replied.

Time was a funny thing. It could go by so fast when you wanted it to be slow, but it could also drag on like a snail when you wanted it to be a rabbit. Time was a wave, almost cruel in its relentlessness.

In your heart, you prayed that Yuna’s time in this town wouldn’t be fleeting. In your heart, you prayed that time could show mercy on this girl.

***

Dried anchovies. 

That’s what your uncle needed from Miss Lee, the general store owner, to cook the stew for that night's dinner.  You shrugged on your jacket that evening and headed down to go buy what was needed. Mrs Lee greeted you with the usual warm smile, though you could tell that the Gopro on the counter was making her ill at ease. 

The ITZY girls were there, talking amongst themselves as a camera man and a different lady producer stood behind them. You did your best to slip by undetected, snagging the bag of dried anchovies and a bottle of water without being spotted. You didn’t know that they’d follow them till this late. 

You paid for the good and exited quietly. On the way back, you felt a hand on your shoulder. You spun around to come face to face with Yuna. 

“Hey,” she beamed. She must’ve seen you. How did she get out?

“Oh. Hey,” you smiled back. 

“Can we meet at the bridge later? I’d like to get some fresh air after my dinner,” she requested.

You smiled and agreed. You set a time, then split off in your own separate ways to go about your evenings. You couldn’t really focus on your uncle’s rambling that night, you mind drifting to Yuna’s smile while your uncle said something about the stock market. 

9pm. That was the time you’d arranged to see her. On the pretext of taking a walk, you slipped out of your uncle's house and journeyed down the street towards the bridge. She was there by the time you’d gotten there, a bright smile that could light up the darkness gracing her features when she caught sight of you. She let you walk over to her before handing you something. It felt like a stick.

“What are these?” you asked. 

“Lanterns,” she answered, turning hers on, “Chuseok is coming up. The Chinese like to carry lanterns and take walks on that day. I thought we should do something while I’m still in this town, make some memories, you know?”

The lanterns she had purchased were from Mrs Lee’s general store. Mrs Lee had always been obsessed with Chinese culture, particularly in terms of decorations and practices. She sold those lanterns all year round, even though no one really bothered to buy them.

You and Yuna walked around the town with your lanterns, talking and laughing, laughing and talking… It was a night to be alive. It was nice to see Yuna in this light. You’d grown out of your 2 dimensional perception of her, discovering the multitudes she possessed. On the surface, she was simply Shin Yuna, ITZY’s maknae and visual. Beneath that, there was Shin Yuna, the nineteen year old girl who could easily make someone smile and blush. Then beneath that was Shin Yuna, a nineteen year old girl who craved regularity, a nineteen year old girl who wanted to be momentarily freed from the glitz and glam. You were happy that she trusted you enough to be comfortable around you, and you were more than happy to have that gut feeling that she was truly being herself with you. 

“This town is amazing…” she remarked as you found yourselves before the bridge once more. You’d walked a full round around the town by then, lost in conversation as you took turns down the roads on a whim. 

“Maybe you should just move here,” you joked. 

“Oh how I wish I could!” she sighed, “everything’s so nice here… I wish I could just stay here forever…”

I wish I could stay here forever. She always had a tendency to say that. While working in the bookstore, she’d let it slip. When you were talking with her on the bridge, she’d say it at least once. She struck you as someone who was vocal with their opinions, someone who would freely speak her mind if she could. You enjoyed listening to her long, rambling talks about her various life stories. Though you could never bear to listen to such rants from your uncle, you found hers enjoyable to listen to. There was a certain way she drew you in with her voice, your attention becoming captive to her tone and intonation while she went on and on… 

When you parted ways with her that night, you found that you wanted her to stay and talk with you a little longer. Of course, you never vocalised this desire. She’d already broken rules to come out and see you that night, the last thing you wanted was to get her in trouble. 

As you walked home with your lantern that night, you wondered what it would be like to date a girl like Yuna.

***

Drier air.

That’s what you felt had changed that late October morning when you stepped out of your uncle’s house. 

“Aish… Winter is coming already,” your uncle grumbled, “time passes so fast these days… I ought to keep a better track of it.”

It was Yuna’s final weekend in the town. She was due to leave by Tuesday next week. As expected, Midzys showed up in front of the door, prompting your uncle and you to wrap around to the back entrance, where Yuna was waiting. The female producer and the cameraman were right there with her, asking the idol some questions in front of the backdoor as you and your uncle approached. Her eyes seemed to light up upon the sight of you, the smile on her face growing wider as she waved to you. 

“Yuna, focus on the interview,” the producer reminded her sternly. She quickly set her gaze back on the camera. Your uncle waited patiently for them to wrap up with their questions before opening the backdoor to the bookshop. As you walked in, Yuna walked up to your right and whispered right into your ear.  “10pm. Bridge. Don’t be late.”

You’d never wanted a shift to end so badly.

That night, you met her at your usual haunt. Her smile—Usually brimming with joy—was noticeably sadder, dimmer under the moon’s beam. It felt hard to accept that her time in this town was running thin. You wished that there was a way to extend your fleeting time with this woman, find a way to make some more memories with her. Alas, time could only move forward at a rate unknown to you. Autumn was slowly becoming Winter, and Yuna would soon be gone from this town. Every moment was now more precious than ever.

The truth you kept to yourself—Though your heart fluttered around her, you knew that you and her could only remain in this stage of friendship. Progressing forward to a new stage of a relationship would be hard. You could only hold on to her as a friend, hoping that she wouldn’t forget you when she returned back to the big city. 

The two of you stayed out late that night, eating dried fruits from Miss Cho’s and drinking some Makgeolli that Yuna had bought and snuck out. 

“My last day as a human,” she told you that night while cracking open the bottle, “then it’s back to being a doll…”

Human… Why could she never seem to prove to everyone else that she was human as well? The fame, the shining lights, the pedestal that she’d been placed on… They all created a false image for her. It brought forth a notion—She was privileged, someone who could receive the attention of fans and brands alike. There was no room for blemishes, her body “perfect” and her personality flawless. She had to accept all that, live with it without a fuss or hassle. 

When she rambled about this, tears flowed freely from her eyes—Years of pent up anger, sentiments of unfairness and many other emotions coming forth in moonlit steaks that ran down her face. You poured her another glass of Makgeolli. She tossed it back to soothe the pain.

“You know… I always feel so comfortable with you,” she whispered, “it’s like I’m talking to an old friend… Someone who actually understands me.”

Under the stars that night, the two of you admittedly got a little tipsy on the bridge. Under the stars that night, Yuna had let slip her true feelings towards you. Under the stars that night, you two shared a kiss, one that would change the complexity of your relationship, spurred by the raw emotions of the night that had manifested through the catalyst that was alcohol. 

As your fingers ran through her hair and her hands held on to your waist, she leaned on your shoulder and whispered some words into your ear. They weren’t words that you wanted to hear, but you knew that you’d just have to accept them.

It pained the both of you to know that you could never truly love each other the way you wanted to. The expectations of her company and of society set a boundary, one that kept you two so far yet so close. While you saw her as a regular human, she still had to abide by the rules and regulations of the company that controlled her. Those rules defined her, the regulations moulding her into something no longer human. It made her life strict and unforgiving. 

She was like an unwilling puppet, trying in vain to resist the commands of those who had power over her. A sisyphean task it proved to be. 

To them, she was an idol. And according to them—Idols and humans were not to love each other.

***

Dried flowers

That was what you held behind your back that morning where you saw the ITZY girls off. You and your uncle waited outside the house they stayed in, dried flowers tucked away behind you. Then they came out. The five of them, rolling out their luggages, dressed warmly to combat the rapidly dropping temperature. She caught sight of you. A sad, warm, gentle smile crossed her face. The bosses of the shops that the girls had worked for respectively had all come to bid farewell to them, giving you some time to talk to her one last time. The goodbyes were tearful, full of hugs and “I’ll miss you”s. Yuna gave your uncle a hug, then she turned to you. Surprisingly, neither of you shed a tear as you stared at each other. 

You produced the dried flowers that you’d gotten from the florist and presented them to her. 

“They’re beautiful,” she whispered as she accepted them. 

“Glad you like them,” you replied, “try and keep them alive okay?”

She stared up at you for a moment. 

When the first teardrop rolled down her face, you didn’t hesitate to pull her into a hug. She cried into your chest, a million and one apologies bursting forth as she held you tight. It was as if it was her fault that the two of you could not start a proper relationship. It was as if you’d disappear if she didn’t hold you as tight as she could. 

When it was time to go, you dried her eyes to the best of your ability. She gripped the dried flowers tight, a grim look on her face as she said, “I’ll take some time to think about us… When we meet again, I’ll tell you what you mean to me. We can go off from there.”

You smiled. “Alright then, I’ll wait.”

She fiddled with the wrapping of the dried flowers.

“Till then,” Yuna requested, “could I be selfish and ask you to hold on to these feelings?”

You smiled and assured her that you’d try to. When we meet again, I’ll let you decide if we should kiss or not, she told you. 

In the cold morning air, you made a then-and-there decision to share one last kiss with her, not caring about the fact that staff and her other members were present at the scene. As the van took her away from the town, your uncle placed a firm hand on your shoulder.

“Are you going to be okay?” he asked you. 

You wiped a tear from your eye and whispered, “I hope those dried flowers won’t die as quickly as they did last time.”

***

The cold snap hit when you came back to the town. A fresh, fluffy and thick sheet of snow covered the streets. Your boots made a satisfying crunch with each step you took, the frigid winter air biting your face as you hurried towards the bookstore. All around you, people walked up and down the street. City people—you recognised their accents. 

You found it hard to adjust back to life in the city. The roar of the traffic was jarring, making you yearn for the quiet of the town streets. The pavements were jam packed with people, making you long to return to the empty streets of your uncle's humble town. The subway was packed like sardines, making you think about the times where you could get to wherever you wanted on foot. It was safe to say that you had some forms of withdrawal symptoms, but you eventually got over it. Then university came. The workload was immense, the readings mountainous. It took you some time to figure out a way to efficiently cover all the content you needed to, but you eventually found your footing. You were in your last year now. Time was truly so fleeting, a wave, almost cruel in its relentlessness.

Now that you were back in this familiar place, a sense of comfort filled your being. Not much had changed over the course of your four year absence. Aside from the fresh coats of paint and increase in tourists, everything was just as they were when you left. 

The bookshop was teeming with life when you entered. You were pleasantly surprised. You remembered your uncle telling you about how good the winter crowds were, but you ever imagined it to be this good. You hurriedly removed your scarf and coat before approaching the counter. There, your uncle was busy packing book after book into paper bags. You hung your coat on the coat rack and grabbed an apron. 

“I’m back,” you said, taking your place next to your relative. Your uncle cast a glance towards you. 

“I’ll greet you later. Busy now,” he mumbled. You chuckled and tied the strings of your apron behind your back. 

It didn’t take long before you settled back into that old rhythm—Open, pack, take the bills. Open, pack, take the bills. It brought an odd sense of joy into your heart. You’d missed the monotony of this life. 

The bookstore closed a little later that day. You waited till the last customer had slipped out into the cold evening air to flip the sign from “open” to “closed”. Then you shut the door behind you.

“I should really employ a part timer,” your uncle mused. He beat his lower back with a clenched fist. “The crowds are only growing these days… I’ll need some help.”

Then he waddled over you. With a warm smile, your uncle pulled you into a warm embrace. 

“Welcome back, nephew. It’s good to see you again.”

You hugged him back. The usual old people's statements ensued—How have you been? You’ve grown taller! Jeez… You’ve gotten a little more plump! Have you been eating well? The same old questions were hurled at you. You were happy to answer them all. 

You helped your uncle close up shop for the day. To celebrate your return, he took you down to Mrs Han’s to have a barbeque. The restaurant owner greeted you with her wrinkly, warm smile and welcomed you back to town. The meat was fresh, well marbled and tender. Freshly imported Mrs Han had told you, they just came in today! You came back at the right time!

It was safe to say that your belly was filled that night. Mrs Han had kindly put the cost of the meal on the house, and your uncle hurried you out of the restaurant when you insisted on paying. 

“It’s rare for her to be this generous. Accept it while you can,” he told you. You rolled your eyes. He was as thrifty as always. 

Your uncle took you to the bridge that night. Proper lighting had been installed on it, small yet powerful lamps illuminating the path as you and your uncle stood side by side on the apex of the bridge. The river was frozen over, the trees around it bald and bare. 

“You should’ve came back in the spring,” he remarked, “there were more flowers this time. It was beautiful.”

“I can imagine that,” you replied. 

Your uncle sighed heavily, a sizable cloud forming before his face. “You know… She came back this spring.”

“Is that so?” you replied alarmingly calmly. Your voice betrayed your emotions. It felt like a small ball was caught in your throat. “How is she?”

“She seems alright, definitely grew a few centimetres,” he told you. 

“Is she healthy?” you pressed. 

“She definitely looked a little more plump in the face. She’s seemed a lot stronger,” your uncle replied.

Silence hung between the two of you. Then your uncle inquired, “You never managed to see her in the city, did you?”

You lowered your gaze to the frozen water. 

“No…” you grimaced, “I… I could never find a way to see her.”

The truth—It felt like fate was against you. You could never secure a ticket to any of her performances, nor could you ever get into any of her fanmeets—Online and physical. You never expected that you’d face such difficulty in trying to see Yuna, but you persevered nonetheless. When the university workload came in however, you found your free time had been stripped from you, tossed out to the wind as assignment after assignment plagued your days. Yuna couldn’t be your top priority no matter how much you wanted her to be. You didn’t know why the idea of getting her phone number never crossed your mind while she was with you. Then again, exchanging phone numbers could have landed her in trouble…

You told this to your uncle. He nodded silently.

“I guess we were never meant to be a thing,” you whispered dejectedly, “I was a fool to hold on to those memories”

Your uncle sighed and patted your shoulder. “Some memories never heal. Rather than fading with the passage of time, those memories become the only things that are left behind when all else is abraded…”

“Han Kang,” you muttered. It was one of the quotes from her book Human Acts. You had a paper on that book coming next term. Your time at the bookstore made you discover your love for books, hence you pursued a degree in Literature in university. 

“You remember,” your uncle chuckled. It was one of the first books that he’d made you read. “Your memory serves you well, nephew.”

The quote he’d recited could be interpreted in many ways. In the context of the book, the protagonist spoke of their memories in the bloody Gwangju massacre in 1981. The sights, sounds and horrors left them scarred for life, so scarred that they’d take them to the grave—hence the usage of heal in memories never heal. Healing meant forgetting.

For you, healing meant forgetting too. The only difference—You didn’t want to heal. You wanted to keep those memories carved into your brain, make them a permanent part of your being. You wanted to ingrain that smile in your vision, keep that voice playing on loop in your ears. You were more than willing to take those memories to your grave. 

“First a breakup, now this,” you muttered, “am I not built for love, uncle?”

“Everyone is built for love,” came his instant reply, “it’s just a matter of finding the right person to receive love from.”

The right person… 

Your parents were meant to follow you on this visit back to the town, but last minute work held them up in the city. They’d found an Airbnb house in the town for the three of you, but now you had it to yourself. As you laid down on the bed, you found that the silence was deafening.

Silently, you wondered what’d be like to date a girl like Yuna. She felt like the right person.

Maybe all of those emotions were just teen hormones. Maybe the feelings were just bright out in the heat of the moment. Maybe you didn’t actually love her, maybe it was more of an infatuation. It all sounded logical and reasonable to you. 

Yet when you saw her again, all of that no longer seemed to make sense. 

There she stood in the cold winter morning, scarf around her neck and a pair of earmuffs atop her head. In her gloved hands, a bright pink tote bag, a bouquet of flowers sticking out from the opening. She stood before the store, staring at the closed shutter, mouth parted ever so slightly. Her hair—Red when you first saw her—Had been returned to its natural colour. She was as beautiful as the day you said goodbye to her. 

You swore that your eyes were deceiving you. When she turned her head, you were convinced that her jaw dropped open as wide as yours when the two of you locked eyes.

Then in the next moment, she was in your arms. She had her ear pressed to the left side of your chest, as if she needed to hear your heartbeat to verify that you were truly there.

“Hey,” was all you could manage.

“Hi,” she whispered back, “it’s been awhile.”

Her eyes gleamed with the same childlike wonder. Her smile was as genuine as you’d remembered. You wanted to kiss her to see if her lips would feel the same, but…

When we meet again, I’ll tell you what you mean to me. We can go off from there…

She did give you the freedom of choice to kiss her when you reunited, but you decided against it.

Catchup was done in the warm respite of the bookstore. With aprons adorning your bodies, you filled each other in on what you’d missed in each other's lives. This was all done to the backdrop of filling in shelves and rearranging stacks of books. Lunch came and your uncle left the two of you on your own. You got some tteokbokki with her from Mrs Han’s—to go of course—and hit your old spot. 

“Even without the leaves, this place is still so stunning,” she mused, staring out at the frozen water.

“I still prefer it in Spring,” you told her, “I like it better when the trees are less… Bald.”

She laughed at that. 

When the sun started to set on the small town, your uncle made the executive decision to close up early. The sun may be gone, but the night is young he told you with a wink. You gave him a grateful smile and took off your apron. He let the two of you go off early that day.

Dinner that night was once again at Mrs Han’s, and she wasn’t so generous that night.  A walk around town was what she asked for afterwards, both of your footsteps seemingly synchronised to produce rhythmic crunches in the snow. At one point, she’d stopped walking to gather up a handful of snow, forming a hefty snowball to chuck at you. You didn’t hesitate to fight back. 

“University sounds tough,” she mused, munching on some grapes from Miss Cho’s.

“I think it’s just my course,” you remarked, “the rest of my batchmates seem to be having a relatively good time.”

“Literature is demanding,” she agreed, “but what do you wanna do with it in the future?”

You sighed and shoved your hands into the pockets of your jacket, “I’m still figuring that out…”

“Maybe you can become a writer,” she suggested, “write some screenplay… Make it different from the usual stuff.”

“I’d probably need to save up some money before I do that,” you chuckled, “I have a degree that guarantees a higher chance of living on the streets than living on someone’s couch.”

She laughed at that too. Then she said, “hey, maybe you should come work for my company when you’re done with university. That way, we can see each other more often too.”

You chuckled. “That’s a possibility… I’ll try and keep that in mind.”

“I’ll make sure to vouch for you,” she declared, “the big boss likes me enough to listen to me…”

You laughed and nodded. Silence hung between you two. 

Then it was time for the hard question. 

“So are you seeing anyone?” you asked her. Yuna licked a grape seed off her lips before answering.

“I’d like to think so…”

Your heart sank, but you still cocked your head in feigned curiosity, “oh? What do you mean?”

Yuna bit down on her lip. “I mean… I like him, but I’m not sure if he still likes me.”

“Ah,” you mused.

“Yea…” Yuna sighed. She looked up at you and asked, “what about you?”

You took a moment to formulate an answer. “I think… I’m just waiting for love as of now.”

“Ah,” Yuna parroted, “well… I wish you the best in that then.”

There was a sudden tension in the air. It was like your respective cryptic messages had conjured a rubber band of the mind, pulling it out to its maximum length as you continued your silent journey down the street.  Perhaps your hopes were set a little too high—You’d expected her to remember the love that existed four years ago, run back into your open arms so that you could shower her with kisses. But you’d forgotten—No… Chose to forget what she’d told you on the bridge that night. 

I love you. I know that it’s too late for this, but I love you. I’m sorry we can’t love in the same way others do, but do know that deep down, I wish to love you in the same manner that you love me. It’s confusing, I know… But my life doesn’t allow us to share the life we want to. I’m sorry.

It was a painful thing to hear, but you still kissed her right afterwards, and you still kissed her the morning after. You now realised that perchance, you’d gambled a little too much, gone all in with the chips of your heart only to lose. You didn’t understand why she couldn’t date freely, be with someone that truly made her happy. She was a human, a human deserved to give love and be loved.

She got a call a few minutes later. It’s my manager. I gotta go now. 

She gave you a small wave, handed you the last few grapes from the container. Then, with a it was nice seeing you again, Yuna turned on her heel and walked off. The grapes felt oddly heavy in your hands. Again, she was to disappear from your life. Like grains of stars in an infinitely expanding galaxy, she spilled through the gaps between your fingers once more. This felt like a scenario you’d read in books a thousand times over, and frankly, it sucked.

But happiness is being able to hope, however faintly, for happiness. So, at least, we must believe if we are to live in the world of today. 

Osamu Dazai had said that. You weren’t sure why you thought of it as you watched her back get smaller and smaller by the second. 

Hoping faintly for happiness? Is that what I’m meant to do? You asked yourself. She was getting further by the second. Hoping faintly for a chance that she’d turn back, you stood there. She never did.

Hoping faintly…

No. You wouldn’t settle for that. 

The grapes fell from your hands as you ran towards the girl that you’d so hoped to see again. Four long years you’d tried and failed. Now, with the opportunity right in your grasp, you were certain that you had to make something out of it. 

In three more bounds, you were right behind her. Yuna you called, grabbing her by the shoulder. You didn’t give her time to say anything before you turned her around and planted your lips on hers. She yelped, her body tensing as you held her cheeks in the cradle of your palms. 

A quiet smack resonated when your lips parted. Yuna trembled in your grasp, teary eyes gazing into yours. 

“I’ve been waiting for your love Yuna,” you admitted to her, “for four years, I tried to see you again but I just never could. We said that we wanted to sort out what we meant to each other when we met again, but we failed to do that today. Tell me Yuna—What am I to you?”

She let out a shuddery breath, the smell of grapes saturating the air. 

“I-I have to go,” she muttered.

You were tired of waiting.

“Yuna please,” you begged.

She looked away, as if contemplating if she should give you her answer.

“You… You are who I want to love,” she whispered, “I-I thought that… Maybe I was too selfish to ask you to keep loving me for all these years. I-I guess I didn’t expect this selfishness to be rewarded.”

“It isn’t selfish,” you corrected her, “it’s… It’s human Yuna. The desire to want someone to keep loving you, that’s human.”

Her lower lip trembled ever so slightly. “Right… I can only feel like a human when I’m with you.”

Suddenly, nothing else in the world seemed to matter. You pulled her in once more, holding her as tight as she did on the day she left your life. You kissed her, tender and passionate as she gripped the fabric of your jacket. Her perfume was sickly sweet, intoxicating and lulling you deeper into her body as she reciprocated the kiss. Her hair, cold and slightly damp from the snowball you threw at her, was silky, smooth to run your fingers through. The repeated dying of it had definitely affected its quality, but only in the slightest.

Her voice was strained when your lips parted, but you could clearly make out what she’d said. 

I don’t want to go back tonight. I want to be here with you. 

When the first teardrop rolled down her cheek, you didn’t hesitate to wipe it away. 

“You’d be breaking some rules won’t you?” you questioned.

“I’ve broken them before. I can always break them again,” she replied, “humans were made to break some rules after all…”

With a smile, you let your hand slip into hers. It was warm, just like any other human. In her eyes, there was a gleam that every other human could possess. In her smile, there was a sincerity and joy that any other human could show. Sure, the Dispatch article that posted the photo of you kissing Yuna did call it the unexpected relationship between a top idol and a civilian. 

But in your eyes, Yuna was as human as anyone could ever be.

Dried things and humanity—An unlikely combination for a love story, but it was certainly fit to start the first chapter of your story with Yuna.

_______________________

Hello! A rare, smutless Yuna fic has mad its way onto my blog. I know it'll disappoint a lot of you guys, but this is what I wanted to write, so here we are. Hope you guys enjoy this one. Take a break from the horny and have some simple love <;3.

~Lots of love, Nichuuu

#shin yuna #itzy yuna #fanfic #writing #kpop #fluff #itzy fluff #kpop fluff

[cool-fancier]

Between Pages

Synopsis: Bookstore friendship blossomed into a coffee date, sparking a promising new chapter between Bada and you.

a/n:This is a part 2 of Bookstore Encounters and I did rush this a bit so please don’t mind.

Word count:2 k words

The lingering memory of the interaction at the bookstore had created an amazing buzz of expectation in your imagination. The thought of returning to the charming shop and potentially starting up a conversation with Bada stayed in your mind like an unfinished story awaiting its next chapter.

The days passed, each one marked by a recurring memory of the vivacious librarian you'd met. The possibility of another encounter gave you an unexplainable rush.

You were strolling through the streets on a lovely Saturday morning, the bookstore calling to you like a siren's song. As you walked in, the bell above the door tinkled, and you were met by the familiar aroma of paper and ink.

Bada was sat behind the checkout counter, surrounded by a stack of books. As the bell rang, she looked up, her eyes brightening with recognition.

"Hey there! Back for more literary adventures?" She chimed in with a smile.

You couldn't help but smile back, feeling a rush of warmth at the familiar banter. "Couldn't resist the charm of this place," you admitted as you browsed the shelves.

You caught glimpses of Bada fluttering about, assisting other customers, while you wandered the aisles, picking up a few titles that caught your eye. She seemed to have an infinite supply of energy and passion, making the bookstore feel like a paradise.

Bada eventually greeted you with a friendly look as you reached the checkout counter. "Finding some hidden gems?"

"Absolutely," you said as you slid the books across the counter. "Although, I must say, the real treasure here is the librarian."

As she chuckled, Bada's cheeks flushed with a rosy tinge. "Flattery will get you everywhere, but it won't help with your total."

The casual banter and relaxed rapport made the conversation flow naturally. A bond seemed to form between you both among book recommendations and shared experiences about favourite writers.

As you said your goodbyes and exited the store, the possibility of a growing friendship stayed in your mind, making you excited for the next chapter of this unexpected story.

Days stretched into weeks, and your trips to the bookstore became a much-anticipated ritual. Every interaction with Bada was tinged with the same warmth and shared love of reading.

Bada approached you with a sly glitter in her eye one exceptionally brisk afternoon as you stood perusing the shelves.

"Guess what?" she taunted, a sly smirk on her lips.

You raised an eyebrow, curious about her sudden excitement. "What's up?"

"I found this," she said, handing you a weathered, dog-eared copy of a romance novel—the same one you'd struggled to reach on your first meeting.

As you examined the book, your eyes widened in amazement. "You remembered?"

Bada nodded, her face beaming with real happiness. "I thought it would be wonderful for you to finally have it after looking for it for so long."

The simple yet deep shared moment filled you with a warmth that transcended the chilly weather outside. It felt as if this modest act signalled the start of something more profound.

Your conversations with Bada grew into a friendship woven through shared interests and undeniable chemistry in the weeks that followed. The bookstore became a haven, with each visit providing an opportunity to go further into conversations that naturally flowed between you.

---

The aroma of old books blended with the bookstore's gentle, welcome brightness. Bada paused among the bookshelves, flipping through a stack of titles, her thoughts wandering to the recent encounters with you that had brought an appealing spectrum to her routine.

Her mind wandered to her mother's words as she shelved the books, the teasing yet encouraging poke about her potential relationship with you. Bada's mother had always been her confidante, someone who understood her completely. She sighed softly and decided to explain what had just happened in her life, hoping for her mother's wise counsel.

That evening, after the bookshop had closed, Bada sat across from her mother in their cosy living room, her heart pounding with excitement at the thought of their chat. Bada settled in with a hopeful face as her mother, who was engaged in a book, looked up.

"Mom, I have something to tell you," Bada said tentatively, her voice full of eagerness.

Her mother looked at her through her glasses, a glint in her eye. "Oh? Do spill, my dear. Something exciting, I hope?"

Bada exhaled deeply, her excitement boiling over. "You remember that customer from the bookstore? The one I've been talking to lately?"

Her mother's eyes shone with recognition as she laid her book down, a knowing smile tugging at the edges of her lips. "Ah, the one I may or may not have nudged you about?"

Bada's cheeks reddened with humiliation and delight. "Yes, that one."

Her mother leaned forward, a soft inquiry on her face. "Please elaborate. "How have things been going?"

Bada nodded eagerly, her joy evident. "We've been talking. Mom, she's just fantastic."

Her mother's face was filled with a kind, sympathetic grin. "I'm delighted for you, honey. She seems special."

"I was actually thinking of asking her out for coffee soon," Bada added, her eyes lighting up. I like her and want to take that next step."

Her mother's smile grew, a hint of pride glinting in her eyes. "You should. Life is too short to sit around and wait for things to happen. "Take the wheel, my dear."

Bada's heart was filled with reassurance and comfort.  Her mother's encouragement was all she needed to take that risk. "Thank you so much, Mom. For always being there and understanding."

Her mother reached out and took Bada's hands in her own. "It's not about waiting for the perfect moment; it's about creating it." Go for it if it feels right."

Bada bid her mother goodnight with a fresh sense of confidence and warmth in her heart, ready to embark on this new chapter, resolved to take the risk and ask you out.

Bada strolled into the bookstore the next day with a fresh determination. The familiar bell chimed as she stepped inside, her eyes seeking you out among the bookshelves. She felt a surge of excitement growing within her as you greeted her with your usual kindness.

After some light banter and recommendations, Bada looked around to make sure there were no customers nearby. She drew in closer, her voice tinted with fear and excitement.

"Hey, I was just thinking... would you like to go out for coffee sometime? "I mean, outside the bookstore," she said, her eyes filled with hope and nervousness.

Her sincerity struck a chord with you, and a smile spread across your face. "I'd love that."

The desire to take the leap, powered by her mother's encouragement and her own faith, led to the beginning of something beautiful—a flowering connection rooted in a fortuitous encounter among the shelves of a treasured bookstore.

---

The cosy cafe had a welcoming atmosphere, complete with the scents of freshly brewed coffee and the faint murmur of conversation. You and Bada sat across from each other, the anticipation of this moment like a symphony of unspoken words in the air.

Bada leaned closer, her eyes sparkling with curiosity and a hint of excitement as the first sip of coffee warmed your senses. "So, how did you get into reading?"

You quietly chuckled, the question igniting a conversation that flowed naturally. "I've always found comfort in books. They're a gateway to different worlds, you know? What about you?"

Bada's eyes glowed, her love of reading clear in every word. "Books have been a steady companion of mine since I was a child. They're like old pals who are always willing to help."

The discussion went off into shared favourite authors, childhood stories, and the intricate details of other genres. With every story exchanged, your mutual comfort and connection grew stronger.

A comfortable silence settled among the laughs and exchanged stories, interrupted by the occasional sip of coffee. Bada's gaze caught yours during this lull, a sweet smile on her lips.

"I'm really glad we decided to do this," she said, her voice softly warm.

"Me too," you confessed, a sense of contentment settling within you.

The topic easily went from books to mutual hobbies, dreams, and aspirations. The bond between you became stronger with each passing instant, the early jitters giving way to a comfortable calm.

You were having a conversation on life's small abnormalities and unexpected encounters as the afternoon sun illuminated the cafe in golden hues. The atmosphere seemed dreamlike, as if time had halted to suit this shared experience.

Bada spoke out with a sweet grin, her voice soft and vulnerable. "Can I tell you something?"

Your gaze was fixed on her, a reassuring nod asking her to speak up.

"I've really enjoyed getting to know you," she began, her eyes meeting yours with a softness that spoke volumes. "I was nervous about asking you out, but I'm glad I did."

Your heart swelled with a mix of appreciation and affection for her honesty. "I'm glad too. I've enjoyed every moment with you."

The unspoken tension of the initial meetings had dissipated, replaced by an undeniable connection that felt like a piece of a puzzle falling into place.

As the afternoon waned, and the cafe bustled with patrons, Bada leaned in closer, her gaze unwavering. "I don't want this day to end."

A surge of warmth washed over you as you reciprocated her sentiments. "Neither do I."

The modest yet significant confession allowed for an extended moment in which time appeared to stand still. The unspoken promises of investigating this newfound connection lingered in the air throughout that shared moment, a subtle but irrefutable reality between you both.

You bid goodbye with a sense of desire and a promise for more shared moments, feeling a greater excitement for what the future may offer.

As you walked away from the cafe, the echoes of laughter and shared stories in your head, you couldn't help but feel a sense of serendipity in this unexpected journey—a journey that began with a chance encounter in a bookstore and had now blossomed into a beautiful story waiting to unfold.

---

As the sun dipped lower, casting a warm glow over the park, Bada turned to you, her eyes shimmering with a mix of nervousness and excitement. "Can I tell you something?" she asked softly, her voice carrying the weight of anticipation.

You nodded, your heart already skipping a beat in anticipation of her words.

"I've really enjoyed our time together," she confessed, her gaze fixed on yours. "And I was wondering... if you'd like to officially be my girlfriend?"

A surge of happiness filled you, and you couldn't help but smile widely. "I'd love that," you replied, feeling a rush of affection for her.

Relief washed over Bada's face as she leaned in, wrapping her arms around you in a tender embrace. The moment felt perfect, but as you held each other, a gentle hush settled between you.

With a soft chuckle, Bada pulled back slightly, her eyes sparkling. "There's something else I've been wanting to do," she admitted, a playful glint in her eye.

Before you could respond, she closed the gap between you, her lips meeting yours in a sweet and tender kiss. Time seemed to stand still as the world faded away, leaving only the warmth of the embrace and the softness of her lips against yours.

As you finally pulled back, both of you were grinning from ear to ear, the park around you seemingly brighter, as if mirroring the lightness in your hearts.

"Wow," you whispered, a joyful laugh escaping you.

"Yeah, wow," Bada echoed, a touch breathless but absolutely elated. "I've been wanting to do that for a while."

Your fingers intertwined, and you resumed your walk through the park, the air filled with a new kind of magic. The shared moment had deepened your connection, and as the city lights began to twinkle in the distance, you knew that this was just the beginning of a beautiful journey together.

#bada lee x reader #swf2 #swf2 x reader #bada lee #street woman fighter 2 #bebe #bada lee fanfic #bada lee x oc #bada lee x y/n #bada lee imagines

[femmefatalevibe]

how to find/make good friends or friends that will be there for you. haven’t really had a good record with making friends in the past but i want to expand my social circle outside of work my phone is dry af i literally get 0 notifications :/

Making connections that flourish into fulfilling, long-lasting friendships can feel like hidden treasures, so I totally get you. Among my friends and I (mid-late 20s), it's so normal to feel like your friend group is constantly in flux to some degree. In terms of where to meet people, I suggest the following ideas:

Try meeting people who share a mutual interest: Join a book club, or sports/volunteer group, or take a class (workout, language, painting, cooking, improv, dance, etc.) and strike up a conversation with someone who you feel you vibe with. A simple compliment, smile, and short introduction can go a long way.

Find museums, galleries, coffee shops, parks, dog parks, etc. to hang out. Enjoy yourself, and strike up a conversation with someone who seems friendly/like you would vibe. You never know who you can meet in places you frequent who have similar lifestyles/common interests.

Join mutual interest groups on Facebook or pages on Instagram etc. for your local area. Reach out to someone who seems like-minded. If you vibe and their identity is easy to verify, try to meet IRL.

Consider more chill bars/quiet lounges/any nightlife spot that most "your vibe" if you will – you're more likely to meet similar people.

Become a local at a certain café, coffee shop, nail salon, bookstore, etc. It's easier for both parties to chat up a familiar face than a stranger they don't recognize. You already have a mutual activity to bond over, too.

Consider connecting with people on LinkedIn in your field for a coffee talk/informational interview. It's a great way to meet people with similar interests and goals. At worst, you both have a new professional connection. At best, you might have made a new friend or someone who can introduce you to one. Less stiff and awkward than trying to befriend coworkers (which can also create some sticky situations, too, if you're not careful).

Join online groups surrounding your interests on social media. Create content/accounts of your own and interact with people's content/personalities you like. Initiating a chat with someone you have great rapport with on a public discussion or is a mutual connection on a certain platform can't hurt.

If you live in a dorm or in an apartment/complex with people in your age group, hang out in the public spaces, and don't be afraid to say hello when the moment feels right (offering a compliment, asking a question, etc.)

On how to be a good friend, check out my guide on How To Find & Be A Good Friend To Other High-Value Women.

Hope this helps xx

#making friends #friend advice #friendship #high value woman #high value mindset #femme fatale #girl advice #social skills #socializing #it girl #dark feminine energy #dark femininity #communication skills #the feminine urge #female excellence #queen energy #female power #dream girl #femmefatalevibe #q/a

[bidoofenergy]

Five fun facts AU: Henry owns a bookshop who takes public transport to work every day. He keeps getting glimpses of Alex through the crowd, always reading, and Henry is all 🥵 about him... until one day they end up sitting next to/across from each other and Henry realises Alex dog-ears his books.

xoxo MJ/kiwiana-writes

how did you know i dog ear my books i mean whooaa hi MJ thanks for the prompt!!

ONE: henry's bookstore not mainstream popular but it is well-known in the NYC queer scene. when you're at the bar, lamenting the fact that all queer spaces have alcohol? henry's bookstore. when you're on reddit, asking for queer-friendly places to go? henry's bookstore. when you're crying over a paper, trying to get your hands on some obscure out of print work by a queer author? henry's bookstore. henry knows this, kinda, but he doesn't really get what he means to people yet.

TWO: alex buys beat-up paperbacks and devours them--on his commute, when he's waiting for his emails to be returned, on the treadmill, in line at the coffee store, on his lunch break, in the middle of the night when he can't sleep. he's not lonely--he has june and nora (his sister and his ex/her girlfriend) and raf and zahra (his bosses) and random hinge dates he hangs out with for a couple months before they inevitable get bored with each other or annoyed with each other or both. the obsessive reading--that's just a cute little hobby :) he's just trying to read 100 books this year :) nothings wrong with him :))

THREE: henry's bookstore (no name yet) is a small, skinny store in NYC, tucked in between a bodega and the best thai restaurant he's ever had in his life. the bodega has a cat, grey tabby, gorgeous, and wonderful mouser. hates david with a passion. she's named something like fifi or pippa or minnie. david just wants her to love him back. it's a love story for the ages--david constantly stopping henry just to stare longingly after her, her hissing at him through the window, henry and the bodega owner laughing.

FOUR: alex and henry live two stops away from each other, get off at the same stop, but walk in opposite directions. henry gets on after alex does, and Totally Accidentally finds himself in prime position to watch alex. he's handsome and tired and artfully mused, fancy backpack (a gift from his mom) in his lap or worn against his chest, a single loose curl always falling across his forehead the same way everyday, dark circles under his big beautiful brown eyes. he's a painting, framed by metal poles and the press of rush hour bodies. he's a statue, carved out of everything henry could possibly want. he's gorgeous, a voracious reader, untouchable--and totally scrumptious (pez's words (henry agrees))

FIVE: one day henry exits the station right behind alex and watches him foLD THE CORNER OF THE PAGE DOWN AND SHOVE IT IN HIS BAG WITHOUT ANOTHER THOUGHT HENRY SAW IT END UP AROUND A NOTEBOOK THE COVER IS RUINED PEZ HOW COULD SOMEONE SO HANDSOME BE SO CALLOUS PEZ NOW HENRY HAS TO FIND ANOTHER COMMUTE CRUSH PEZ (all of this is said over drinks at pez's favorite bar, the one nora and june also really love and are always trying to get alex to come to)

(send me a potential AU and i'll tell you five fun facts)

#god this is so fun this is such a fun game #pls send me another plsplsplspls #mj.. mj i dont need another wip.. #bidoof answers #youtastelike-sunlight #rwrb #au ideas with bidoof

[petrichormeraki]

Here’s a Hermit Tommy thought. Cub has been collecting books from the hermits for his museum. Of course he’d ask Tommy for a book. Tommy, who had time to adjust to Hermitcraft, knows that the museum won’t suffer the same fate as Ghostbur’s sewer, so what book would he write for the museum? A copy of the L’Manberg Declaration of Independance? How to Sex whatever edition he’s on? A book about Tubbo? A collection of clothing patterns he’s used for sewing? For that matter, how would Tommy play the museum feud? Would he bring up his history in exchange for some sweet, sweet diamonds? Would he make up history to get some sweet, sweet diamonds? Would he ignore the museums?

Oh my god thank you for this ask I had no idea the museums were even a thing!!

Tommy would absolutely write How To Sex 3 especially for the museum. It makes Cub laugh so hard that he almost passes out, and he expresses extreme remorse when he tells Tommy that no, he can't display this in his museum, no matter how much he wants to. Tommy gripes and groans but it's the answer he expected. They reach a compromise to keep it in a chest in a secret room of the museum that nobody can get to unless they know it's there.

On a more somber note, he trusts Cleo with a recreation of L'manburg's Declaration, as accurate as Tommy can remember it. It's not very close to the original, but he pretends it is, because the alternative is that he's been stuck in Hermitcraft for long enough to start forgetting his past, and he doesn't want to acknowledge that possibility.

He builds a L'manburg flag in Cleo's museum and a hot dog van in Cub's, and doesn't explain anything more than labeling them with a sign. Neither hermit asks specifics.

(Cub pays Tommy a few diamonds for How To Sex 3 as an apology for it not being properly displayed. It spurs Tommy to make a bookstore of (extremely non family friendly) self-written books that is condemned almost immediately by a terrified Bdubs. The scene remains the funniest thing that's happened in the Hermitcraft server in a long time)

#thank you so much for this ask #hermit tommy au #meraki answers

[wellesleybooks]

Our Dog of the Week

Sarabi is an eight-and-a-half year-old Mini-Pin/Chihuahua mix from Los Angeles; our Event Coordinator, Ashleigh, shares custody with her mom, Jane, and sister, Alexandra. Sarabi loves her stuffed hedgehog(s), especially ripping out their stuffing; and enrichment games from Outward Hound. She is especially good at zoomies, answers to "Noodle Doodle Doodle Noodle Dog," and is a very good snuggle-buddy.

#dog of the week #e-newsletter #bookseller dogs #dog share #dog friendly bookstore #don't look at me

[cowplant-pizza]

sim requests for @opalias !

meet the clarke family

louis clarke:

age - 20 traits - perfectionist, ambitious, loyal aspiration - academic occupation - student & barista background - louis grew up as a child genius. he was the son of two professors and excelled in all of his studies due to his parents continuous support with his school work (although he didn't need their help most of the time). louis doesn't have many friends as he comes across as quite snobby and mean, but he's actually a total sweetheart. he treasures his close friends! although louis is incredibly smart, there is one thing he doesn't know: what he wants to do with his life. he has many niche hobbies like photography, skiing, the violin and programming, but non pique his interest enough to pursue them as a career. it's time for him to enrol in university and begin his young adulthood! louis has decided to study *redacted* at university, and will work part time at the local bookstore come cafe, where he has a serious crush on the manager!

beatrice clarke

age - 49 traits - perfectionist, genius, outgoing aspiration - friend of the world occupation - retired (psychiatrist, psychology professor) background - growing up in a wealthy family, beatrice was given an edge over her fellow students in reaching her goals: money. she wasn't happy about the influence her family held over the town and so left them and never looked back at 18. she excelled in university and got her dream job of being a psychologist. however after 10 years in the field, she decided to change her field of work and become a professor of the subject to help teach sims in university. this is where she met her husband georgio, where they fell madly in love and married only 5 months after meeting. in her spare time, beatrice loves to throw parties for her friends.

georgio clarke

age - 51 traits - geek, loner, family oriented aspiration - super parent occupation - programming professor background - georgio's family were initially from sulani, but he moved to san myshuno to study and become a professor of programming. after not being interested in meeting any women and pursing a relationship for the first 25 years of his life, he finally met beatrice when she started working at the same university that he did. he worships her and the ground she walks on, and loves his little son so so much. although georgio prefers his own company, and because of beatrice's background, they aren't short on money, he continues to work as he enjoys teaching the students. in his spare time, georgio might hack into some government files and snoop around, but you didn't hear that from me

bean

age - 4 breed - labrador traits - smart, loyal, friendly background - bean was put up for adoption at 6 months old after her owner realised why it was so hard to train her: she is a deaf blind dog! at age 16, louis saw her on simstagram, and being the ambitious young boy he was, begged his parents to let him have her and to learn with her and train her for small competitions. he wanted to show the world that just because she had some disabilities, it wouldn't stop her from doing anything that other dogs could do too!

this request is public, so everyone can download them...

here (simfileshare / no adfly)

#sims 4 #ts4 #simblr #ts4 legacy #the sims 4 #the sims #sim request #sim requests #my sims #sim dl #sim dls

[dailyunsolvedmysteries-movedd]

The Weird Death of Elisa Lam

For her trip to California, Lam travelled alone on Amtrak and intercity buses. She visited the San Diego Zoo and posted photos taken there on social media. On January 26, she arrived in Los Angeles. After two days, she checked into the Cecil Hotel, near downtown’s Skid Row. Lam was initially assigned a shared room on the hotel’s fifth floor; however, her roommates complained about what the hotel’s lawyer would later describe as “certain odd behavior” and Lam was moved to a room of her own after two days.

Lam had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder and depression. She had been prescribed four medications – Wellbutrin, Lamictal, Seroquel and Effexor – to treat her disorders. According to her family, who supposedly kept her history of mental illness a secret, Lam had no history of suicidal ideations or attempts, although one report claimed she had previously gone missing for a brief period.

Lam contacted her parents in British Columbia every day while traveling. On February 1, 2013, the day she was scheduled to check out of the Cecil and leave for Santa Cruz, her parents did not hear from her and called the Los Angeles Police Department (LAPD); her family flew to Los Angeles to help with the search.

Hotel staff who saw Lam that day said she was alone. Outside the hotel, Katie Orphan, manager of a nearby bookstore, was the only person who recalled seeing her that day. “She was outgoing, very lively, very friendly” while getting gifts to take home to her family.

Police searched the hotel to the extent that they legally could. They searched Lam’s room and had dogs go through the building, including the rooftop, but the dogs were unsuccessful in detecting her scent. “But we didn’t search every room,” Sgt. Rudy Lopez said later, “we could only do that if we had probable cause” to believe a crime had been committed. On February 6, a week after Lam had last been seen, the LAPD decided more help was needed. 

On February 15, after another week with no sign of Lam, the LAPD released a video of the last known sighting of her taken in one of the Cecil’s elevators by a video surveillance camera on February 1. In approximately two and a half minutes of footage, Lam, alone, makes unusual moves and gestures, leaving the elevator at one point while its doors remain open, even after she appears to have pressed every button. When the doors fail to close after she returns, she leaves; the doors close later.

The video drew worldwide interest in the case due to Lam’s strange behavior, and has been extensively analyzed and discussed. It was reposted widely, including on the Chinese video-sharing site Youku, where it got 3 million views and 40,000 comments in its first 10 days. Many of the commentators found it unsettling to watch.

Several theories evolved to explain her actions. One was that Lam was trying to get the elevator car to move in order to escape from someone who was pursuing her. Others suggested that she might be under the influence of ecstasy or some other party drug, but none was detected in her body. When her bipolar disorder became known, the theory that she was having a psychotic episode also emerged.

Other viewers argued that the video had been tampered with before being made public. Besides the obscuring of the timestamp, they claimed, parts had been slowed down and nearly a minute of footage had been removed. This could have been done to protect the identity of someone who otherwise would be in the video, either related or not to the disappearance.

During the search for Lam, guests at the hotel began complaining about low water pressure. Some later claimed their water was colored black and had an unusual taste. On the morning of February 19, Santiago Lopez, a hotel maintenance worker, found Lam’s body in one of four 1,000-gallon (3,785 L) tanks located on the roof providing water to guest rooms, a kitchen, and a coffee shop. Through the open hatch he saw Lam lying face-up in the water. The tank was drained and cut open since its maintenance hatch was too small to accommodate equipment needed to remove Lam’s body.

On February 21, the Los Angeles coroner’s office issued a finding of accidental drowning, with bipolar disorder as a significant factor. The full coroner’s report, released in June, stated that Lam’s body had been found naked;  clothing similar to what she was wearing in the elevator video was floating in the water, coated with a “sand-like particulate”. Her watch and room key were also found with her.

Lam’s body was moderately decomposed and bloated. It was mostly greenish, with some marbling evident on the abdomen and skin separation evident. There was no evidence of physical trauma, sexual assault, or suicide. Toxicology tests showed traces consistent with prescription medication found among her belongings, plus non-prescription drugs such as Sinutab and ibuprofen. A very small quantity of alcohol (about 0.02 g%) was present, but no other recreational drugs. Investigators and experts have however noted that the concentration of her prescription drugs in her system indicated that she was under-medicating or had stopped taking her medications recently.

The investigation had determined how Lam died, but did not initially offer an explanation as to how she got into the tank in the first place. Doors and stairs that access the hotel’s roof are locked, with only staff having the passcodes and keys, and any attempt to force them would supposedly have triggered an alarm. The hotel’s fire escape could have allowed her to bypass those security measures; her scent trail was lost near a window that connected to it. A video posted to the Internet after Lam’s death showed that the hotel’s roof was easily accessible via the fire escape and that two of the lids of the water tanks were open.

Apart from the question of how she got on the roof, others asked if she could have gotten into the tank by herself. All four tanks were 4-by-8-foot (1.2 by 2.4 m) cylinders propped up on concrete blocks;  there was no fixed access to them and hotel workers had to use a ladder to look at the water. They were protected by heavy lids that would be difficult to replace from within. The hotel employee who found the body said that the lid was open at the time, removing the issue of how she could have closed the lid from inside. Police dogs that searched through the hotel for Lam, even on the roof, shortly after her disappearance was noted, did not find any trace of her.

Theories arose pertaining to the elevator video. Some argued that she was attempting to hide from a pursuer, perhaps someone ultimately responsible for her death, while others said she was merely frustrated with the elevator’s apparent malfunction. Some proponents of the theory that she was under the influence of illicit drugs are not dissuaded by their absence from the toxicology screen, suggesting that they might have broken down during the period of time her body decomposed in the tank or that she might have taken rare cocktails of such drugs that a normal screen would not detect. The very low level of her prescription drugs in her system, and the amount of pills left in her prescription bottle, suggested she was under-medicating or had recently stopped taking her medication for bipolar disorder, which might have led to a psychotic episode.

The autopsy report and its conclusions were also questioned based on the incomplete information. For instance, it does not say what the results of the rape kit and fingernail kit were or even if they were processed. It also records subcutaneous pooling of blood in Lam’s anal area, which some observers suggested was a sign of sexual abuse; one pathologist noted it could also have resulted from bloating in the course of the body’s decomposition, and her rectum was also prolapsed. Even the coroner’s pathologists appeared to be ambivalent about their conclusion that Lam’s death was accidental.

Since her death, her Tumblr blog was updated, presumably through Tumblr’s Queue option that allows posts to automatically publish themselves when the user is away. Her phone was not found either with her body or in her hotel room; it has been assumed to have been stolen at some time around her death. Whether the continued updates to her blog were facilitated by the theft of her phone, the work of a hacker, or through the Queue, is not known; nor is it known whether the updates are related to her death.

#Elisa Lam #cecil hotel #creepy #unsolved #cold cases

[grogusmum]

Let It SQUALL ❄️

This is part if the @pedrostories Secret Santa gift exchange 2022.

For: @something-tofightfor

With love: Hazel

Frankie Morales x GN!Reader

W/C:1400

RATED: T

You go to a tree farm to get your Christmas Tree and get a little help from Frankie.

It's your first Christmas alone, but you are determined to enjoy personal traditions built over a decade. This includes cutting your own tree...

So here you are, pulling into the tree farm's hardpan parking lot, hoping your hatchback isn't too small to bring one home. You remind yourself that it will be fine so long as you get a small tree as you get out of the car and grab your bow saw.

It really is a perfect day for it, snow on the ground from last night and some flurries swirling… you are bundled up in your favorite sweater with a scarf, gloves and good boots as you make your way to the field.

Holiday music floats over the parking lot and in the warming house, the smell of wood smoke and hot chocolate fill you with nostalgia.

A sweet faced dog with large pointy ears lopes by, you smile and your eyes can't help following. It's a dog, okay? The dog stops, tail wagging at a guy, you assume is his owner. He's comfortably handsome with soft brown eyes, a mustache and patchy scruff on his chin and cheeks. Layered a thermal shirt, button down flannel, and quilted barn coat, his head topped with a trucker cap with the tree farm logo on it. You note his coat has a patch with Frankie embroidered on it.

He gives you a crooked smile that displays a singular dimple. You give a small smile back and then continue your trek to the grove of trees, your face heats a little at being caught staring.

The music fades being replaced by the crunch of your foot falls and the aroma of pine and snow overtakes the smells from the farm yard.

You meander through the trees unhurried, passing the noble firs, gorgeous but expensive, best not to fall in love with one. Next the Douglases, then the Frasers… at the Balsams you turn into the rows, surrounding yourself in their scent. You take a moment to steep in it.

“I like the balsams too, humble, beautiful and the amazing smell lasts,” says a soft voice behind you.

“I love them,” you say, you had heard a second set of boots in the snow, turning to see that the friendly voice is coming from Frankie, the tree farm guy. “I just wish they held their needles a bit better.”

“Yeah, there’s always a catch,” he chuckles.

“There really always is isn't there," you smile.

“So, I followed you to see if I could help. Usually we get people out here in pairs or families…” Frankie trails off, not wanted to overstep. His hand comes up to the back of his neck, it is sweetly shy.

“Oh,” you say, have this broad, soft eyed tree farmer help? Pssh “That would be great!”

His smile lights up and you know you are in trouble!

As you and Frankie walk the lines of trees, you tell him you usually get a tall tree, your place, while not very big, has high ceilings, but now you only have a small hatchback to bring it home, so you need to stick with a 5 footer.

“Deciding which ornaments to leave in the boxes, that will be hard” you say with a sigh.

You walk in companionable silence for a few beats.

“Are you far?”

“No actually, I’m above the used bookstore right off Main,” you say absently as you walk around a small tree, scrutinizing it.

"I can," Frankie clears his throat, "I could bring- we offer delivery."

It takes a moment for you.

"Really?" You beam, then your face falls, "mmm, thank you butI really can't afford a bigger tree and delivery- "

"Delivery, under 5 miles, is free," Frankie confirms with more confidence. Though you get the feeling he just did that math. It's your turn to give a lopsided smile, as you thank him and move away from the small tree and head for the more mature ones.

You choose a narrow eight foot tree, Frankie makes quick work of falling it for you and drags it behind him as you make small talk. The temperature dropping as the day progresses and you begin to shiver.

"Cold?"

"Yeah, I didn't think it was supposed to drop like this, also thought I was going to be keeping myself warm with taking the tree down myself." Then you quickly add with a grin, "not I'm complaining. Thank you again."

"Well let's get you a hot drink and warm you up!"

At the warming house, you loosen your scarf and open up you coat. Frankie is aglow, ruddy cheeks from the chill and exertion as he hangs his coat up and adds a log to the woodstove. He smiles at a couple of the crew taking a break from the cold as he picks up two mugs-

"We got coffee, tea, hot chocolate and hot cider"

"Oh, um… I'll take the cider!"

Frankie, dimple showing, brings the two piping hot mugs over. You take the mug with both hands grazing his, murmuring your thanks.

After a sip-

"I love this space, and the woodcut ornaments… so, is this a family business?"

"Sorta, found family I guess." He says, "my buddies and I bought it, sort of defunked at the time…"

You continue to look everywhere but him-

"Nice"

Frankie on the other hand can't take his eyes off of you, "yeah."

Finally, you look over your steaming mug at him, "yeah."

You were kicking yourself internally for being so awkward. Why? Why must you be this way?

Then a bunch of phone notifications chime at once, you look at yours as several others do the same, including Frankie.

"Well, we'd better get you and your tree home, there's warning for squalls." Frankie says as everyone starts moving to finish up.

You nod and take another sip of the cider and set it down on the tray table set out for that purpose.

"I'm, um, a little nervous about my car getting it down the hill its not great in the snow…"

"Well, you're not far, how about I drive you in the pickup and you can get your car tomorrow, it's supposed to be clear tomorrow, no problem," Frankie guides you out a hand gently on your lower back. The tree is already in his truck and he takes just a moment to say something to a shorter man with black curls, who looks at you and then back to Frankie. He smiles and Frankie gives him a good natured shove.

With a whistle, his dog hops in the cab as the two of you clamber in.

"Is it okay if my dog joins?"

"Of course," you enthuse, giving the sweetie a scratch behind those big ears.

As with squalls, the snow is suddenly heavy and there are moments when it is white out conditions. You were so glad to not be in your little hatchback, you really needed to get a better car for the winter.

Frankie takes his time and soon enough you are in front of your bookstore, The Dancing Goat.

"Why dancing goat?" He asks looking up at the sign.

"That is an excellent question," you say with a smirk as you climb out of the truck.

You hear him chuckle, then shiver. With the wind the snow is coming down, and sideways, and up.

After the pair of you bring the tree up the stairs to the apartment above, and put the tree in the stand, you walk him back out to the sidewalk, finding the snow is worse.

"Maybe you should come back up, hopefully the squalls will settle in a little bit."

"Yeah, I can bring Raffi in?" Frankie asks, hand on the car door.

"Of course."

As you wait for the kettle, you start putting up the tree lights, Frankie falling very naturally in step with you, helping wind them around the tree. His dog Raffi finds your couch a perfect place to watch you both work, and gets cozy.

The kettle sings just as you finish the lights, so you plug it in with a voilà and you turn down the other lights and rush to get the tea brewing.

The windows with snow swirling outside them perfectly frame your merrily twinkling evergreen. You can't help but sigh and your eyes get bright with holidays past.

As a distraction, you pull out your phone, check the weather once more and then swipe over to your music app, selecting Skating by Vince Girardi and the quiet nostalgia of the Charlie Brown soundtrack.

"I think it might be a while."

"That's alright by me," Frankie says as he plunks down next to his already sleeping dog, he looks up an eyebrow raising and smile widening as he pats the cushion next to him-

"I'm still waiting to hear about the Dancing Goat."

Part 2

THANK YOU FOR READING 💚 AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS

If you enjoyed this, you can find more Frankie and my writng in general on my masterlist and if you would like to be tagged in future work, please go to my taglist form.

#secret santa #frankie morales x you #pedrostories #pedrostoriesgift22 #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales christmas fic #frankie catfish morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x gn!reader

[psychotickenesis]

Dream diary 19.04

This girl at a combination bookstore thrift store took away rhe clothes rack i was looking at bc her parents were stalking her and she didnt want to provide service. So i threw water in her face and told her to get over it and she shouldn't be working w the public ??? 😭 For some reason she wasnt mad but we got in a friendly fist fight that ended w us laying in the grass looking at the stars w our arms touching and she was like what are we ? I was like ummmm just friends. Then we worked at a restaurant togthr and her parents came in and she froze up so i immediately seated them. They had a marimo suitcase and a little fake electronic dog ....... Also i was abt to get fired and my manager was critiquing me for being late and i was like whatevrrrrrrr idc abt this job.

I was in a goosebumps themed haunted house but it kinda sucked so i was chatting up all the employees

[x22817]

📚Beanbag📖Books📚

Hekate always blows me away with how smart she is. We have had lots of bad experiences in our neighborhood with offleash dogs and even dogs on leash that people let come up to us. Unfortunately, this is why I carry mace with me at all times. I am done risking my medical device any time we walk out our front door.

Today, my mother wanted to go coffee shop and book store hopping around town. We ended up going to three coffee shops and two different bookstores. We would go to a store and either sit or walk around for an hour or so before walking a block or two to the next place.

The weather was beautiful. It is apparently prom weekend for several schools in the area. There was a wedding at a nearby church. Needless to say, it was more than a little busy. I'm not exactly excited for all the people, but my little social butterfly is happy as a clam.

Thankfully, public places are a completely different story. I don't mind pet friendly places. Dogs still bark at us when we go by. Dogs still pull towards us and lunge. But! People are very good about keeping their distance when their dog does these things. People especially get out of the way when they see her labeled as a service dog.

Hekate knows this. She knows that when she is wearing her vest or her harness, she is untouchable. The extremely rare occasion when she does get touched with her gear on it is out of love and compassion from a human rather than an aggressive dog. I am determined to keep it this way.

We passed more dogs than I can count today. She didn't do anything more than look twice at the worst behaved of the lot. We had dogs on patios barking at us through the fence. We had dogs in strollers getting so wound up that they were shaking the whole thing almost until it fell over. We even had dogs barking at us in the cars that drove by. So many puppy parents saying "Look how well behaved he is!" as we walked by. The best dog we passed was a basset hound puppy that couldn't give less of a fuck about us. He was all ears (haha get it cuz he's got ears) on his dad who proudly had treats he was giving out generously.

It makes me sad that we only feel somewhat safe outside of our home when we're in stores or in town. I am happy, though, that we still had good experiences this weekend. The number of compliments we got everywhere really helped me feel better about our behavior. It doesn't matter what other people think, but I always worry about how people perceive us.

Hekate makes me feel calm and comfortable in any and all situations. I am so grateful I have someone who loves getting to go places and do things with me.

My mother keeps saying how she is the best girl ever for not only putting up with me but also putting up with us going everywhere, and doing everything the last week while she has been here.

#beans beans the magickal fruit #service dog #dogblr #dogs of tumblr #booklr #books #literature #books and quotes

[run-me-through-but-not-like-that]

What if some of the crew were out doing who knows but they end up in trouble for something and the reader, who is afab but can be fem or nb, uses their “assets” to flirt their way out of trouble and Izzy gets super jealous and the crew teases him since he’s been to prideful to admit his feelings. Maybe at the end he finally does?

You Flirt your way out of Trouble, Izzy Hands is Jealous:

The little team that Stede had put together was a little strange. It had been you and Lucius that he had asked to carry out the chore. He cared for the crew dearly but you two were the only ones he trusted to select the correct books that he had asked for.

He had then paired Izzy to go with you, thinking it was best to send somebody with you for 'protection'. Izzy had been about as happy about it as Lucius, but he hadn't really had a choice once Edward agreed.

Black Pete had decided to tag along, just because he felt like it. Probably wanting to get some more time with Lucius. Either way, you welcomed his presence.

And so the four of you ended up wandering around the unfamiliar town, searching for the little bookstore that Stede had mentioned. Apparently it was hidden away somewhere in the quieter part of town. It made you wonder what kind of books you were looking for.

The four of you were already bickering about which direction to go, insisting that you all knew better and the others were wrong.

It was in that moment when you weren't paying attention to your surrounding that a group of men closed in around the four of you.

You all fell silent, realising that you had been surrounded by six men. You turned to them, trying not to look too intimidated. From the look of them, they were some down on their luck pirates. Six large rugged men, clearly having spent the better part of their lives at sea.

Each of them had a weapon in their hands, just in case your thought their intentions might be anything but dangerous. Just as you had predicted, they were were trying to rob you, demanding that you hand anything valuable over.

"Do you know who I am, dog?" Izzy growled, placing his hand on the hilt of his sword.

You were outnumbered, it was that simple. Izzy was the only one out of all of you that had any real raid experience. Well, Black Pete could fight, just not as well as Izzy. It didn't really matter though, it was two against six. They couldn't take all these men on their own, maybe if Pete had some more experience.

And it wasn't like you or Lucius were going to be of much use in a fight. You'd probably just get in the way.

Plus, the less bloodshed in total, the better.

Stepping forward, everyone tensed in anticipation.

"Oh come on, none of that," you spoke softly, placing your hand on top of Izzy's, pushing it away from the hilt. Earning a glare from him, of course. "I'm sure we can sort something out, right? Come to an...agreeable conclusion that pleases all of us," you suggested, smiling between the strange men.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Izzy questioned you through gritted teeth.

"And what do you suggest?" one of the men, the one who seemed to be in charge, cocked an eyebrow at you, ignoring Izzy.

"Well, me and Luce are going to head to the pub later, see what trouble we can get into. Maybe we will run into you again there?" you told them suggestively, gesturing back towards Lucius, knowing he would catch on.

"Yeah, we're going to meet some friends, I'm sure they'll be pleased with the company too," Lucius added, picking up on your game, and trying his best to mask his nervousness. Black Pete seemed to understand as well, just nodding his head.

"Yeah? That one doesn't seem too friendly," another man gestured towards Izzy, his nose turning up at the hostility. As if they weren't ambushing you all.

"Oh, Izzy is never friendly," Black Pete shrugged. Whether he was trying to help or not, you weren't sure.

"Him? Don't worry about him," Lucius dismissed Izzy with a way of his hand.

"Yeah, don't worry about him," you got their attention back into you, assuring them, "he's just a colleague, boss really, we'll be ditching him before hitting the pub."

If Izzy couldn't play along, you needed to work around him.

"Oh yeah, he's no fun but we're a lot of fun. All our friends are," Lucius agreed. Giving them the same smirk that he gave Izzy when he asked if he had ever been sketched, "whatever your preference is."

"So, what do you say?" you asked, trapping your bottom lip between your teeth, "we keep all our goods and coins, not like we have much anyway, and we keep you company later on."

"Alright, this is fucking ridiculous-" Izzy huffed, wanting to put an end to this nonsense. Only to be silenced as the leader pointed the tip of his sword at him. You knew that if you didn't step in, a fight would be breaking out.

"Oh come on, boys," you pouted, pressing your finger to the top of his blade and gently lowering it away from Izzy. Once the sword was pointed at the floor, you stepped up to the men, just missing the small growl that came from Izzy behind you. "He won't be any trouble," you promised, trailing your fingertips over his chest.

Izzy's hand was back on the hilt of his sword as he watched you, his knuckles turning white.

"Don't see why we have to wait for later, I don't see anyone around to disturb us," another one of the men smirked, putting on a show of looking around the empty alleyway.

"Our boss runs us pretty hard, wouldn't want to keep him waiting," you kept calm, pushing your nerves down.

"What about keeping us waiting?" another of the men argued, shooting you a glare.

"Yeah, you and you're friend seem eager enough. Sure you could manage us all," another man added, eyeing you up before turning his attention onto Lucius.

"Trust me, you're going to want to meet some of our friends. I think you'll really like them," Lucius chuckled nervously, hoping his voice didn't waver.

"Yeah, Lucius is right. They're great!" Pete nodded, a little too much. Lucius loves that man to pieces but even he knew that he should just shut up right now.

"Nah, I think we'd be happy with just the two of you," the leader concluded. "You're friends can watch if they like," he shrugged.

That seemed to be what pushed Izzy over the edge. "That's e-fucking-nough," he drew his sword.

"Oh relax, Iz," you looked back at him over your shoulder, hoping he understood what you were trying to convey. Trust me. "How about this?" you turned back to the man before leaning up to whisper in his ear.

Izzy scowled as he watched you whisper to the man, watching how the man smirked and looked at you. Twisted and hungry. You had never been much of a flirt since Izzy had known you, it was strange seeing you like this. He hated watching you interact with men like these, watching them respond to you.

"How about that?" you asked, as sultry as possible, as you pulled away from the man.

"Y'know what, sweetheart," the man smirked, shamelessly letting his gaze wander over your body. Izzy's lip curled in disgust. The man stroked your hair, twirling a stand around his finger, and you let him, just about managing to not cringe away from him. "You make a convincing argument, we'll see you both later?" he made it sound like a question but it was obviously more of a demand, as he pinched your chin.

"Sure will," you nodded, summoning some sort of excited expression.

The man nodded to the others, who all grumbled but agreed. They were already talking and boasting as they walked away, all excited to hear how you had enticed their friend.

Once they were out of sight and you couldn't hear their booming voices anymore, you let out a heavy sigh. You closed your eyes and let your shoulders drop, taking a moment to collect yourself. You hated this shit.

Izzy's glare was torn away from the end of the alleyway as Lucius slipped closer to him. "Relax, Dizzy...or they're going to know you're jealous," he advised, but was clearly mocking him to some extent.

"What the fuck? I am not fucking jealous," Izzy hissed, keeping his voice low so that you didn't hear them. "Just fucking hate men like that," he insisted, which was true even if it wasn't the full truth.

"We all hate men like that," Lucius rolled his eyes. He hated men like that but he still played along, trusting that you knew what you were doing. "I knew to play along, you knew what we were doing. You just couldn't stand it, could you?"

"He was so fucking jealous, babe," Pete backed him up with a smile.

"Fuck. Off."

"Alright!" you turned back to the trio with a partial smile. "Lets find that fucking bookshop and get back to the ship," you decided, just wanting to get this task over with now.

"Are you alright?" Lucius frowned, noticing your tenseness.

"Yeah, I'm good," you reassured him. Though, you were clearly somewhat shaken by the encounter. They couldn't blame you, of course.

"You can go back to the ship, if you want," Izzy offered, surprising all three of you. It wasn't like him to worry about members of the crew.

Lucius just smiled a little to himself. That man was definitely jealous and now look...he's all worried about you.

"I'm fine, lets just get those books, yeah?" you promised and he three men nodded before the four of you continued your journey through town.

-

You and Lucius managed to pick out the books with ease, the shop was more difficult to find than the specific editions Stede had insisted upon. After finishing the task, the four of you headed back to the ship.

Once the sun began to set and everyone had returned from their various responsibilities and whatever else they were getting up to on land, the crew had sat around together on the deck to drink and share stories.

Black Pete sat, spinning his tale about how you were all ambushed in town, about how you and Lucius talked your way out of it. Telling the rest of the crew that you had been so hot and clever in your methods.

Lucius was waving it off half-heartedly, but was living for the praise and everyone knew it. You just laughed along, agreeing and letting him add a few dramatics without arguing about what had actually happened. Nobody noticed how Izzy white knuckled his bottle of rum as he brought it up to his lips, Pete didn't have to make it sound quite so seductive.

It was all light-hearted, completely harmless, until Pete brought up Izzy's role. "Y/n had to talk Izzy out of gutting them twice!" Pete exclaimed with a small laugh, "he was so angry, like way more angry than he ever is with us, I've never seen him so red and I thought that vein in his head was going to explode!"

"Surprised you didn't kill 'em, Iz," Edward mused, not thinking too much of it.

"Like they said, saved the bloodshed, they handled it," Izzy shrugged, taking another sip of rum.

"I'm more surprised that he didn't hunt them down later, thought he was going to explode when that big fella started playing with Y/n's hair. Didn't think Izzy Hands would be jealous over some light petting," Pete chuckled to himself, clearly not realising the gravity of what he said.

"What are you fucking talking about?" Izzy seethed, glaring at the other man.

"I'm just saying! I used to get jealous over Lucius before we got together. Now, we obviously don't own each other and everything, but before we were together, I hated seeing him flirt with people. It's the same with you, right?" Pete asked as if it were obvious. It didn't sound like he was mocking Izzy, just having a friendly talk. That alone was strange.

"Babe, I think that's enough," Lucius leant into Pete to whisper to him, not wanting his boyfriend to get stabbed by Izzy Hands, "I think Izzy just got a little...protective, yeah?"

You looked between the three men, honestly confused. Sure, Izzy had obviously been furious with the men, had shown some level of protectiveness. You hadn't considering him having been...jealous though. You might not have even believed it, if Izzy wasn't looking so flustered.

"Well I appreciate the back up. It was kinda...unsettling, it was good to have you there," you gave Izzy a smile, hoping to ease some of the tension.

"Whatever," Izzy rolled his eyes, taking another drink.

"You really jealous, Iz?" Edward asked sincerely, looking to his long-time friend.

"Fuck no. Shut the fuck up," Izzy scoffed, muttering more than speaking.

"You better figure that out, Izzy. Jealousy attracts bad luck," Frenchie cringed. That wasn't a good energy to have on the ship.

"Does it really?" Wee John asked with wide eyes.

"Yep! And then the bad luck attracts demons, obviously. Ask Buttons," Frenchie nodded.

Buttons was butt-ass-naked at the helm, Wee John decided not to ask him. He'd take Frenchie's word for it.

"I wasn't fucking jealous, so don't fucking worry about it," Izzy snapped. This was fucking ridiculous.

"You know, Izzy, if you were jealous, that's alright. Bad luck or demons aside, it's not an innately bad feeling. You can talk about it if you like?" Stede offered. He did think it was best to 'talk it through as a crew' after all.

You just watched the first mate, frowning as his face turned a darker shade of red, both from anger and embarrassment.

"I would rather throw myself overboard," Izzy muttered into his bottle.

"So, you admit it? You were jealous," Jim concluded.

"Why do you fucking care?" Izzy glared. It wasn't like Jim to get involved in the crew's ridiculous discussions but of course they got involved with this, just to piss him off.

"Oh, I don't. Like making you angry," Jim shrugged, smirking to themselves.

Izzy was beyond seething now, practically vibrating with anger. "...were you jealous, Iz?" you asked. And how dare you look at him so sincerely. Somehow it made him even more angry.

"Why the fuck would I be jealous about you throwing yourself at some fucking creep?" Izzy snarled, clearly pushed to his limit. You tried not to take it personally but the energy among the crew had certainly become uncomfortable.

"Bit harsh, Iz," Edward frowned a little, tilting his head at his first mate.

"Yeah, they were only trying to get us out of trouble," Lucius frowned.

"Fuck all of you," Izzy hissed as he finally found the common sense to stand up and leave. He should have done that earlier. Shouldn't have been sitting with them in the first place.

With a sigh, you stood from your seat and began to follow after him.

"Ah, maybe not the best idea. Izzy isn't great to be around when he's in a mood," Edward warned you.

"Is there ever a time he is great to be around?" Roach asked.

"Yeah...maybe best to just let him cool down," Pete suggested, looking at you, simply concerned.

"If he tries something, I'll scream and you can come to my rescue. Deal?" you promised.

"Deal," Pete nodded after considering it for a moment.

You crossed the deck, hearing Pete call "scream extra loud!" before you disappeared under the ship.

You headed straight for Izzy's cabin, knocking on the door. "Spriggs if that is you, I will fucking kill you," Izzy threatened.

You bit back a small laugh. Of course he thought it was Lucius, probably coming to give him a lecture for talking to you like that, for being an asshole.

"Not Lucius," you called through the door.

You heard a muffled 'fuck' and then footsteps from inside the cabin. The door opened, Izzy standing in the doorway. You had expected a glare but didn't receive one, he actually looked...apologetic.

"Look, I didn't mean to insinuate anything about you before," Izzy sighed, which was close enough to an apology you supposed.

"I know. They were riling you up and you snapped. Not exactly nice but I understand," you assured him with a small sigh of your own. "Can I come in?" you asked.

"...you don't have too," he figured you were going to do something soft and stupid, like apologise on behalf of the crew, make him apologise properly. You didn't need to waste your time with all that.

"I want too. I want to talk," you insisted.

With another sigh, Izzy stepped to the side and let you in. You were the one to close the door behind yourself.

It was silent for a moment.

"Are you alright? From before, I mean. You seemed uncomfortable after those twats left," Izzy surprised you by being the first to talk, sounding genuinely concerned.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just hate doing that, y'know?" you assured him, "I've never been a good fighter, always been best to talk and charm my way out of things. But men like that always make me feel like shit."

Men often saw you as something you weren't and while you hated that, you knew how to use it to your advantage when you needed too.

"Wouldn't have let them actually touch you," Izzy told you, his conviction a little surprising.

"I know. You being there was why I wasn't afraid," you confessed with a small smile. You knew that if you slipped up, if you couldn't talk your way out of it, Izzy would be there to take over. That managed to pull a faint smile out of the angry first mate.

You knew he didn't really want to talk about it but you had to ask, had to understand. "Were you jealous?"

"If I was jealous about you flirting with men to get us out of trouble, I'd be a pretty big fucking twat," his words lacked his usual heat. He wasn't necessarily protesting, but he sounded guilty.

Sometimes you wondered what went on in Izzy's mind. He had felt jealous and he had felt guilty about it. He could be hard work sometimes. (All the time).

"I was flirting with men, if you felt a particular type of way about me, it would make sense that you were a little jealous. I wouldn't like seeing somebody I care about flirt with somebody else, no matter the situation. Wouldn't be mad at them, but might be a little jealous in the moment," you reasoned. Truth be told, if you were forced to watch Izzy flirt with somebody even if it was just to get a job done, you would certainly feel some type of way about it.

Izzy didn't respond, but seemed to be taking your words into consideration.

"And I'm sorry about saying that shit about you. Y'know, saying you were just my boss or whatever, that we'd ditch you," you apologised. You were pretty sure he would understand but it still hadn't felt right to say.

"Don't fucking apologise about that, I was making it difficult, you figured it out," Izzy scoffed, making you smile a little. "Didn't say anything that wasn't true anyway," and that took your smile away.

"Yeah I did. Made it sound like you meant nothing to me. Plus, I wouldn't ditch you," you protested, earning another scoff from him. God, he's lucky he's cute. "Were you jealous, Iz?" you asked again and he knew he had to give a real answer if he ever wanted you to drop the topic.

"...yeah...yeah, guess I fucking was, a little," Izzy finally confessed, letting out a heavy breath as he sat down on the edge of his cot, "didn't like the way they were looking at you...that you were letting them, even if you were just playing with them."

You chewed on your bottom lip to stop yourself from smiling too hard. "Well, I'd ask if you'd like to visit the pub and get a drink with me but there might be some creeps waiting there..." you joked, earning a small chuckle from him.

"Had enough drink for today anyway," Izzy admitted. He wasn't much of a drinker these days and he had already been nursing a bottle of rum.

"Another time then?"

Izzy looked at you for a moment, squinting slightly until deciding that you were being genuine, not messing with him. You were looking at him like you looked at those men, your gaze was soft, your smile sincere.

"Sure," he agreed, knowing he said the right thing when your smile grew.

"You going to come back up onto deck with me? If I spend too long down here, Pete will probably think you've killed me," you asked.

"Spriggs will think we're buggering," Izzy muttered. You were so caught off guard by his comment, at least that it was coming from him, you couldn't help but let out a shout of laughter. "I fucking hate this ship," he complained, even if he did smile at the sound of your laugh.

"I know, love. Let's get back up there and listen to some of Pete's stories," you decided against questioning him, protesting that he didn't hate the Revenge or its crew as much as he claimed too.

"Pete's lies," he corrected, but he still stood from his cot, straightening out his clothes.

"But they're pretty entertaining," you wiggled your eyebrows playfully.

"Alright, go on then," Izzy's high was clearly put on but you didn't comment on it.

You just gave him another smile before leading him back up towards the deck. As you walked through the corridors of the Revenge, you took the chance and linked your arm through his. He didn't protest.

"Will you sit with me?" you asked as you approached the steps that led to the deck.

"You want me too?" Izzy asked, looking at you briefly.

"Please?" you gave his arm a little tug, assuring him that you wanted him sit beside you.

"...yeah, yeah, okay," Izzy agreed with a small, somewhat nervous, nod.

You smiled at him again, quickly sneaking a kiss to the corner of his mouth before taking hold of his elbow and dragging him up onto the deck.

#izzy hands x reader #israel hands x reader #izzy hands #ofmd izzy #ofmd #our flag means death

[writerscornercafe]

Here's the collection of fics from our Discord Secret Santa! Thank you to all the members who participated! 💖

🎄All I know is I'm in trouble (cause the atmosphere's so cold) by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed for @onlythesweet

Larry, T, 8K

While on a holiday with his best mate Zayn, Louis meets Harry, who seems to dislike him from the start. It's just his luck he ends up getting stuck on a ski lift with Harry. Except maybe the universe knows better and he really is lucky.

There is also a podfic version available here. Happy holidays!

🎄Mistletoe Cove by @wabadabadaba for @beardyboyzx

Larry, GA, 4K

Once everyone from the competition was gathered in front of the small makeshift stage, the mayor started to thank everyone for coming and participating. He talked about how everyone were winners in his eyes which made Louis want to hurl. Finally, it was time to announce the winner.

“As the manager of Mistletoe Cove,” Liam spoke. “I am so happy to invite the winners of the competition to enjoy a free meal on us.”

“Why is he taking so long?” Harry complained. “Just say it.”

“The winners are…"

or, a small town throws a snowman competition in which two teams are convinced they will be winners of the coveted prize- a reservation to Mistletoe Cove. Only one team can be the winner though, who will it be: Harry Styles and Niall Horan or Zayn Malik and Louis Tomlinson?

🎄If you ever feel alone (Don't) by @beardyboyzx for @chai-hat-tea

Larry, GA, 9K

Louis is too busy worrying about helping his mum and paying the bills to let himself enjoy his teenage years and hang out with his friends. Enters Harry, who will help him reconcile with his friend and understand the difference between feeling lonely and being alone.

🎄Snow Squalls & Kitty Paws by @littleroverlouiss for @sun-tomato

Larry, GA, 8K

Louis and Zayn own The Future is Meow, a bookstore-slash-cat café, and are spreading the holiday cheer to their customers this Christmas Eve. A few morning snow flakes turn into a full-blown blizzard and before they know it, the safest place for them and their employees to spend the night is the bookstore.

Shop regular and object of Louis’ affections, Harry, is also snowed in with them— as is another man who Harry seems more than friendly with.

Will it be a Christmas miracle if Louis survives the snow squalls, a seemingly unrequited crush, and a curmudgeonly tortoiseshell cat?

🎄Storm Warning by @restless-rebels for @lululawrence

Larry, Teen and Up, 4K

What makes you think he’ll listen to me? He hasn’t for the last few ye-” Harry was suddenly cut off when Remi jumped from her seat on him and took off with the rest of the dogs, pulling Harry so harshly that he landed hard on the ground, his face pressing right against the hard day old snow.

“Haz? Harry? What happened? You stopped talking all of a sudden.” Liam yelled into the phone, clearly frantic.

Harry scrambled to his feet and held the phone up. “I’m fine, I gotta go!” He shouted and ran to catch up to the dogs who were currently jumping around a man, holding his small puppy close to his chest. He breathed harshly as he caught up and put his hands on his hips. “Everyone, heel!”

Immediately, the group laid on the ground and stared up in excitement at the dog in the man’s arms. Harry rushed to collect the leashes and held them in a tight grip, even though they were looped on his wrist. “I’m so sorry about them! They normally don’t rush other dogs, especially when they’re on their leashes..”

“Yea, well maybe you shouldn’t bring so many to the park at one time.” The man chided and looked Harry up and down. “Isn’t there a rule about it or something?”

🎄Louis' "Harry" Christmas by @chai-hat-teatea for @tommokat

Larry, M, 9K

Louis can't go to his family for Christmas because he injured himself. Harry, the wonderful friend that he is offers to take him back to his house. Cue in the confusion and chaos of family, Christmas, and their feelings.

🎄Silver-White Winters by lululawrence for @beelou

OT5 Relationship, NR, 9K

Liam Payne had learned many things as a bartender. He'd learned when people needed to talk, or when they needed a gentle smile. He now knew when they wanted advice or someone to just agree with them. He also had come to recognize when someone was past the limit and needed to be told no.

But when it came to holidays, Liam had learned that when people came into the Neighborhood Pub alone on Christmas Eve, it was for a reason.

Niall, Zayn, Harry, and Louis all definitely have their own reasons for showing up at Liam's bar alone on Christmas Eve. With the help of a surprise winter storm, none of them will have a reason to be alone for long.

🎄Ho Ho Hopefully by safetyfilm for @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed

Larry, Teen and UP, 5K

Attached to the gift, just under the bow, was a paper tag, and Harry wished desperately that he could write his own name there. ‘To Louis, from Harry.’ What a dream that would be.

He’d grown fond of Louis over the time that he’d been watching him, wishing that he could be part of Louis’ life, of his world, regardless of the fact that the only thing Harry had ever known was working for Father Christmas—or Nicholas, as he’d preferred to be called.

The one where Harry is an elf in Santa’s workshop, and Louis is one of the humans he’s been assigned to.

🎄Christmas Pretenders by @larryatendoftheday for @littleroverlouis

Larry, Teen and UP, 4k

When Niall convinced Louis to come home with him for the holidays as his fake boyfriend, he never expected he’d run into the loveliest man he’d ever seen.

Or, a twist on the fake-dating for the holidays fic, where the real love interest is the fake-boyfriend’s best friend.

🎄'Sno(w) Joke by @sun-tomato for @londonfoginacup

The last thing Louis wanted was to get stranded on his birthday. But perhaps it was exactly what he needed.

Featuring a snow storm, a library, and a very grumpy Harry Styles.

🎄Baking Spirits Bright by @beelou / Cherrylarry for @wabadabadaba

Lirry, G, 2k

“Hello, and welcome to day 20 of our Advent Series! I’m Harry Styles and this lovely man on my right is Liam. Say hi, Liam,”

“Hi, Liam!” Liam waves at the camera with a grin.

Harry rolls his eyes with a fond smile. “Alright so today we’re making hot chocolate! Different recipes from all over the world. Mexico, Italy, France, and Brazil.”

🎄While the Moon is Bright by @tommokat for @larrieblr

Larry (Girl Direction), Teen and Up, 1K

Refusing to be the only one over 25 at her family's annual Christmas party, Harry turns to a speed dating event to find the perfect date. Too bad said perfect date hates Christmas.

🎄Odd Dogs by @londonfoginacup / LadyLondonderry for @restless-rebels

Ziall, G, 3k

Zayn is not a dog person. Zayn does not understand dogs. He doesn’t know why they do what they do.

Yet here he is, at the doors of the Allegheny Dog Rescue, staring in at an odd dog and a blue eyed boy.

🎄Snow on the beach by @onlythesweet / onlytheclouds for @larryatendoftheday

Larry, G, 9K

Louis Tomlinson is a busy man.

When he travels to his mother's new smalltown for Christmas, nothing goes as planned. He's starting to think he might be cursed…

Especially when this one guy, Harry Styles, keeps showing up everywhere he goes, doing every single job in town.

#wcc secret santa 2022 #secret santa #1D secret santa 2022 #fic rec #hlcreators #hlupdate #hljournal #tracksintheam #trackinghome #trackinghappily #1Dficvillage

[biblicallyaccuratechicken]

Because of the most recent rb:

An apocalyptic world I made up. Mc up there is listening to music late at night, when suddenly cir family wakes up and starts shambling to the front door–But Something's Wrong oooooooo. Their eyes are glowing a whitish-blue, and they don't seem to notice cim when ci puts cir hand on their shoulders. Ci hides in a doorway to see what's happening. When cir little brother opens the door, a giant obsidian Creature is waiting, and promptly devours mc's numb, unresponsive family. How shocking! Ci quickly creeps to a hiding spot, but in cir panic, one of cir earbuds falls out. Ci can hear in the exposed ear a soft whirring, so soft, so gentle, so calming and friendly. It's only the music still playing in cir other ear that saves cim from being completely carried away. Recognizing this, ci sluggishly replaces the earbud, and immediately cir mind is clear again- just in time to see that the Creature has entered the room, and begun to make its way towards cim. As soon as the earbud is fully in, however, the Creature lifts its satellite-dish-like head and turns it around, looking confused. It circles the room, its head swiveling frantically like some dog or cat trying to find a smell, and as it passes mc, it's all ci can do to keep quiet, but it finds nothing and leaves.

After a millenium, or perhaps a millisecond, of waiting, mc leaves cir hiding spot and starts to pack a backpack. A flashlight, some batteries, some food. Ci also seeks out cir cat, and finds her hiding beneath the couch, ears flattened against her skull, pupils and fur blown all the way up. She calms a bit at mc's soft, feathery soft murmuring, recognizing her name and the voice who spoke it, but refuses to leave her spot until mc opens up a can of tuna. After she's swallowed all of the can's contents, eyes and ears darting here and there, she's calm enough that mc can gently lower her into the backpack.

Ci creeps out the open door and makes cir way to the nearby shopping district, ducking between shadows with cir hands plastered to cir ears, desperately keeping the earbuds. Through them, ci occasionally hears loud metal or rap playing, sometimes from cars with huddled and shaking people, sometimes from other wanderers who clutch little bluetooth speakers in their white-knuckled hands. From cir place in the shadows, ci notices that the Creatures–there are so many Creatures–tend to take a wide berth around those beacons of presumably earsplitting melodies. After ci passes the empty street and enters the nearest electronics store, ci's grateful to find that, even though all of the speakers have been looted, there are still noise-cancelling headphones left. Ci takes three pairs, hanging two around cir neck and putting one over cir ears before swiftly switching the plugs in cir phone's jack. Feeling safer, ci flits as smoothly as ci can to the convenience store, opens a can of wet food for the cat, and formulates a plan over a bottle of water and some donuts.

Ci makes cir way back home, grabs cir little brother's acoustic guitar and tuner, and loads everything securely into a wagon, which ci attaches behind cir bike. Ci raids the nearest plant nursery for as many crops and medicinal herbs as ci can fit, then the bookstore for guidebooks for how to grow and use them, and follows the river out of town, away from the Creatures.

Out in the country, ci builds a little house out of materials ci finds. Ci spends cir nights awake, slamming away at the guitar's strings and singing at the top of cir lungs until ci's hoarse, and spends the rest of it with cir headphones on, humming to cirself. During the mornings and evenings, ci plants cir crops and maps out the area. Daytime, now marked by a sun which hangs like a pendant of onyx in the white sky, is the only time it's safe to sleep.

And that's it. Mc lives alone on a little sanctuary with cir cat, offering asylum to those who come across cim.