cryxtal-moon - Tumblr blog

cryxtal-moon · 2 years

Text

little cart of wonders | ksj - 05

Summary: Those born with the ability to use magic are rare. They hide in plain sight while helping people with an ordinary career path they have chosen. You’re no different, until you get caught by Seokjin in a desperate attempt to help his friend. Things get more complicated when people you know with magic begin disappearing one by one, and you two take it upon yourselves to find them… even if it means losing your ability forever.

Genre/warnings: investor!Seokjin, cart owner!reader, magic au, strangers to lovers, slow burn, fluff, a teensy bit of angst, adventure, reader has magic

Word count: 5k

Pairing: Seokjin x reader

Author's note: now we're getting somewhere...

After you were forced to listen to Cheol-su’s seemingly endless impassioned rant about how you could have gone to jail and how he should permanently ban you from using magic, you were back out behind the counter of your cart again.

The stealth mission you had gone on two nights prior wasn’t the one broadcasted on various television channels under breaking news; bold white letters spelling out the firing of Pico Development Tech’s CEO was edited next to his biassed recruitment. Evidence from the files Wonwoo had found were shown in the next cut shots, the announcer’s voice in the background narrating how a new CEO had been appointed and the speech he gave to the reporters gathered outside his office building was recorded live. Everyone who had gotten in through lavish connections were let go, the results of the previously rejected recruits would be re-evaluated, and those with the highest potential and scores would be hired without any additional requirements.

To sum it up perfectly in one word: justice. Wonwoo informing you that Dae-hyun had been hired on the spot through a text was the icing on top of your favourite cake.

You didn’t find yourself in the park the next morning solely because you chose to keep your word to Seokjin. There was someone here who needed your help, before you had to leave, pay a visit to a seaside town and collect some materials you used in making the trinkets.

An old man who happened to walk past where you set your cart up beside the river, or that was just what you wanted him to think, stopped to peer at the trinkets that seemed to sparkle under the golden light of the sun reflecting off the water’s surface.

“Hello sir,” you beamed as per your usual greeting, “welcome to my little cart. If it is your wish, I will do my best to help you with any problem you’re facing.”

Magic had the odd effect of allowing any stranger to feel at ease the second they were within a five metre radius, in order for you to gently coax them into revealing their issue so you could solve it. In this hectic world, rest was in rare supply.

“I’m just looking, dear,” a common response you were used to hearing by then was made before he lifted an azure pinwheel up from its stand. You doubted he was the kind to get angry easily – those were used to cool people down.

Dark circles under his eyes, the slump of his shoulders, as well as his relaxed pace had magic drawing you to a few items he wasn’t perusing displayed on a shelf to your left.

“You look a little… tired, sir,” you tried gently. “Have you been getting enough rest?”

“Ah,” his hand rubbing the back of his neck was sheepish, “is it that obvious?”

You chuckled. “Not to the untrained eye.”

“Well, I own a small restaurant, and it recently became popular,” he was more open than most customers, though you were no less attentive to each word. “We’ve received many bulk orders in the past few days that we’re trying our best to fill, but it hasn’t been easy.”

“I see.”

“I’m grateful for the love our food is getting, really,” he smiled. “I just wish we had more energy. When you’re older, you can’t work as fast as you used to.”

You giggled, pulling an item from the shelf you sensed he needed, “I think I can help you.”

The box of tea wasn’t filled with the usual tea bags found in an ordinary grocery store. Flowers with magenta petals you planted in the small balcony of your home were stored in each compartment instead, ones you revealed to him upon removing the top cover, magically imbued to re-energise anyone who drank from them. You also had tea to help people to relax, or heal them from any ailments stored away elsewhere in the cart, but this was the most beneficial towards him.

“Steep these with hot water to make tea. One flower is enough to fill a whole pot,” you instructed to the intrigued widen of his eyes. “I recommend that you drink one cup every morning. It’ll give you and your wife enough energy for any work you have to do.”

“Oh,” he accepted the box a little hesitantly, “thank you, dear. How much are they?”

You shook your head. “No payment necessary.”

“What? Are you sure?”

“Consider it a gift for blessing everyone around you with delicious food.”

He grinned, more grateful than bashful this time, “Alright then, thank you again.”

The man didn’t think to question your words on the effect of the tea or breed of flowers he had never seen before till he was a little way down the path, only turning back to invite you to his restaurant sometime but seeing no one there. His only proof of the encounter was the box cradled in his palms, flowers inside glimmering when he wasn’t paying close attention.

A cool breeze blowing in from the open ceiling of the cross continental train station dusted several cherry blossom petals on the marble tiles to your left, your eyes following where they aimlessly wandered in muted curiosity towards the other passengers scattered haphazardly around the platform. The train headed for the town of Kira Bay would arrive in two minutes, according to a white ticket pinched between your fingers, though they almost released the piece of plastic when a scarily familiar voice spoke up behind you.

“Are you here to steal a train?”

You felt Seokjin’s presence next to you but didn’t bother sparing him a glance. Why did this guy appear to keep terrorising your life? Should you ever meet the being who bestowed your family with magic in the near future, the first question you would ask was whether encountering him had jinxed you for life.

“No, I’d have no space for it in my house,” you played along right as said vehicle pulled up to a screeching halt on the metal tracks, watching his reflection in the glass windows lining the top half of the train. “If you must know, I’m going on a business trip. That’s all.”

“Business trip?” The repeated syllables were laced with utter disbelief, well aware of the nature of your work, as he matched your pace in striding to one of the multiple entrances.

“I may not have a typical office job,” you countered while finally gazing at him, “but I consider what I do to be a business.”

For some unknown reason, he trailed behind you in boarding the carriage, though you guessed it was more out of curiosity than obligation as a friend… could you even call him one.

“How much do you earn, anyway?” Seokjin asked rather absentmindedly, placing his office bag on the outer seat of a pair of chairs, directly opposite of where you chose to sit. Why was he subjecting himself to spending time together if he gave off the impression of wanting nothing to do with you and your antics?

“Compared to your ten digit income, pocket change,” you hoped the venom behind your sugary sweet smile was obvious, “but I can still survive.”

He froze, just for the fraction of a second. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It’s okay,” you softened at the way a genuinely apologetic look dilated his obsidian pupils, finding yourself missing the bronze sparkle of his doe eyes. “People question me about my career choice all the time. I’m used to it. And I guess I forgot to tell you about that.”

“Every month,” you lowered your volume by half in case other surrounding passengers could hear and label you as mentally unstable, “I get a compensation, like a reward for helping people. It’s just a letter with a cheque inside, nothing too flashy, but it helps me pay rent, food, bills… you know, the basics.”

“There are just two rules we need to follow. The first is to keep it a secret.”

You didn’t blame Seokjin for letting out an amused chuckle. “I’m not surprised you broke that one.”

“The second is to never use it selfishly or for personal gain,” your tone grew serious. “If I use magic to benefit myself, I’ll never get it back.”

You couldn’t ignore the surprise in his voice while turning to open your backpack, “Has that happened before?”

“Maybe it has,” a sigh slipped past your lips, though it wasn’t due to your water bottle having fallen over and risking spilling inside, “but I wouldn’t know.”

An old piece of dark brown parchment scrawled with names in black ink was removed from your bag to inspect closely, eyes flickering in time with your mental counting to reconfirm the total number. Your name, Cheol-su, and your mother’s were written alongside seven, all of whom you recognised and knew personally.

“This is a list,” you explained once you reached the last person inscribed near the bottom and turned it to face him, “of people who have it. When someone loses it, their name disappears, but it hasn’t changed in years. I’m visiting one of them now, actually. She stays at Kira Bay.”

His head perked up instantly, eyes wide. “I’m going there too. That’s where my parents live.”

Four coincidences in one go couldn’t really be counted as coincidence anymore – a funny feeling nestled itself in the pit of your stomach that perhaps it was magic, or something of greater power like fate, at work in your life which orchestrated your lives suddenly colliding. A butterfly manifested in the physical form of that emotion to start fluttering around the more you wondered about it, so you violently kicked all of such thoughts aside, settling against the comfy backrest and focusing on admiring the view of your city beyond the windows.

“That’s nice,” you commented, mostly to yourself, “I thought you were travelling for work or something.”

With a collared grey coat reaching his knees pulled over a plain white shirt and black slacks, not to mention golden brown locks effortlessly styled mostly to his left and revealing the majority of his pale forehead, he appeared ready to march into the office and conquer any presentation he had lined up.

“Blame my mum. She keeps nagging me to dress up more.”

“I mean, how else are you gonna get a girlfriend?”

Seokjin’s resigned sigh was as long and drawn-out as your bout of laughter.

“_____.”

A gentle call of your name made you aware of the pitch blackness coating every corner of your vision, not having bothered that it was there before.

“_____, wake up.”

Light stung your eyes in fluttering them open to adjust to natural daylight, but slumber didn’t grip your bones as heavily as it did in comparison to when you went to bed at night, evident in the way you sat up straight with ease.

“We’re here.”

You didn’t even recall falling asleep, so it made sense that you jumped slightly in your seat seeing Seokjin across you, just at arm’s length, making him laugh lightly.

“Huh? W-where?”

“Kira Bay. You’re going to see your friend, remember?” A weight plopped itself onto your still-dazed head then moved back and forth to ruffle your hair, only realising it was his large palm giving you a rather affectionate pat the moment it slid off, returning to his side.

“Oh… right.”

Swiftly shaking your head to clear the remainders of sleep, you stood and grabbed your bag, ensuring none of your belongings were left behind and trailing after him out of the carriage.

Warmth was the first to flood your senses through the long sleeves of your jacket, not only from the sun rays beaming down on the outdoor station but also the sea breeze blowing above the ceaseless tide. In the distance, seagulls chirping mixed in with the sound of ocean waves crashing onto golden sand, alongside the laughter of children having fun.

Multi-coloured houses and small buildings dotted the slight incline up the never-ending stretch of beach in no discernible pattern, right next to verdant prairies blooming with flowers in shades of the same variation. Somewhere among the masses was a floral nursery, its owner patiently awaiting your arrival to pass you a box of freshly grown bouquets, the messages you’d exchanged yesterday on the phone confirming your meetup although the ones you’d sent today went strangely unanswered.

“I better get going,” Seokjin’s announcement drew you away from admiring the scenery. “My parents’ house is on Lilac Street, if you need to find me. It has a welcome sign outside. You can’t miss it.”

“Okay,” you nodded, “see you soon.”

You parted ways straight after, heading down several winding pathways of gravel and cobblestone steps towards the nursery. A month had passed since your last visit but your memory of the town’s layout wasn’t going to fade anytime soon, rounding the corner of a row of residential houses and arriving at an area you called the marketplace street.

Past restaurants selling seafood from the catch of the day, a rice cake shop and a vintage cafe with the aroma of roasted coffee beans permanently etched into its atmosphere, the peek of glass walls the nursery was made of entered your line of sight. An adorable blue bell in the shape of a fish chimed upon opening the door and the refreshing smell of nature willed your senses to relax, if it weren’t for the missing presence of Sohyeon behind the marble counter.

The raven-haired girl wasn’t found amidst the rows of vivid bouquets lining shelves along the walls, or the organised sections in the middle with a single type of blossom, or even below the air plants hanging from the ceiling inside glass and ceramic bubbles – her self-proclaimed favourite part of the shop.

Before you could think to call her name, the sound of metal creaking echoed throughout the empty space, followed by a door opening behind the counter. A man with blond hair you instantly recognised to be Hueningkai, grandson of the owner of the rice cake shop you’d walked by further up the street, emerged with a small bouquet in his grasp.

“Oh, _____! Hi!” You could practically feel his excitement where you stood two metres away. “Sohyeon told me you were visiting today.”

“Hey Kai,” his smile widened at your small wave. “Have you seen her?”

“Not since yesterday. She gave me an extra key in case there’s an emergency. That’s why the shop’s open. Oh, and,” Hueningkai set the bouquet down on the counter top, scampered back into the back room and returned with a small cardboard box, “she said this is for you.”

“Ah, thank you,” a mint sticky note stating your name in perfect cursive by a black pen was double confirmation of that. After he transferred the box into your arms, his first three words then registered in your head and you frowned slightly in mild confusion. “So she’s not in right now?”

“No. Maybe she’s sick or something,” he shrugged. “She might be at home. You can pay her a visit if you want.”

“Sure. I’m not really in a rush to get home anyway. Thanks again, Kai.”

“No problem. Let me know if anything happens!”

A smaller version of the prairies were found lining the front yard of Sohyeon’s house, wildflowers entwining around white fence posts blossoming next to grass that appeared to be lawned not too long ago – a hopeful sign she was still in. Silent footwork against grey rectangular tiles led you to the white wooden entrance beneath the corridor of her second floor, a wind chime in the shape of a rose resounding in time with your three quick knocks echoing hollowly in her living room.

The call of her name on your lips faded into silence when the door creaked on its hinges and opened a fraction during your last knock, though you hadn’t applied much strength, revealing the strangely empty space. Nothing inside seemed out of order. Her home was undeniably lived in; framed pictures of her and her family members stood tall above the fireplace, two mugs on the cherry wood coffee table half filled with water, and there were multiple pair of shoes lining a plastic rack by the door.

But there weren’t any signs of life, lest you count the afternoon breeze fluttering some curtains where the window on the other side of the room had been left open.

Kira Bay was relatively small enough for everyone to be well-acquainted, yet the hunch you had about Sohyeon trusting her friendly neighbours didn’t go so far to say she would willingly leave her door unlocked. Setting your cardboard box down by the door frame allowed you to explore the place with more freedom, though you weren’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse in disguise once you noticed a card lying on the ground by a pile of charred firewood.

You dusted off some dirt stuck to the smooth plastic to reveal the words Jewel Ace imprinted in a professional business-like font. Beneath it in boxy letters was a company tagline, two diamonds outlined in black on each side of the statement.

Being a florist was Sohyeon’s passion, a fact she told you multiple times over in her handwritten letters to the city you lived in. There was no way she would have changed her profession this suddenly, otherwise the shop would have closed down or she wouldn’t have agreed to the meetup. You didn’t recall her parents having a job in such a fancy company either while they were still working. Both of them had retired ages ago.

Strange.

Exiting her home to ask around everyone in the next-door houses proved futile. None of them told you a different story than what Jimin had mentioned about seeing her in town yesterday. You were beginning to wander around the streets while checking your phone, expecting a white text bubble to pop up beneath the green ones you’d sent, but there was nothing.

Jewel Ace… the name rang a vague bell like you had seen it around before. There was, however, one person in this town who may be more familiar with the company than you.

A ten minute walk later and you were standing in front of a lovely little blue and white house, the former shade colouring the exterior layer save the red brick roof and the latter accenting balconies on the second and third storey. A wooden sign showcasing the word Welcome in gold calligraphy aided you in finding it, but the unexpected return of a butterfly flying about in your stomach, the same one affecting you earlier on the train, had your hand hesitating in its trek to the doorbell.

You ended up pressing it down hard anyway, imagining the button as the pesky insect you were punching into fine dust.

The man who answered the door had subtle similarities of the investor lining his jaw and in the corners of his eyes that crinkled in a friendly smile, his way of greeting a stranger a far cry from the curious look you thought you would have received.

“Hello, dear. May I help you?”

“Uh…” you cleared your throat where the air in it was thickening out of nowhere, uncertainty stitching itself in your next statement and phrasing it as a question, “I’m looking for Kim Seokjin?”

“Ah, Jin?” He turned to yell the same nickname into a house at a volume that would have burst your eardrums instantly, “Jin! You have a visitor!”

His broad stature emerged from the depths of the house, this time without the grey coat, appearing a little too domestic for your liking.

“_____?” The expression on his face was more puzzling than welcoming, ironically when he was the one who told you to find him in case you needed his help.

“Hi,” you forced out a sheepish chuckle, “are you free now? I need to ask you something but if you’re busy I can come back–“

“Nonsense, come in!” Mr Kim casually waved your concerns off, turning to his son to playfully scold, “Why are you just standing there? Help her carry her stuff.”

You could barely get a word out to politely decline – Seokjin was pulling the box out of your hands in a flash and carrying it over to place it beside a brown wicker chair.

Their house was an open concept; a gorgeous mixture of modern furniture and seaside inspired decor. To your left was white love seat big enough for three people to settle in next to two wicker chairs around a round coffee table. A kitchen island facing the massive beach held a wind chime, made of four silver metal bars and seashells of different designs threaded through a white string in the middle. More of such shells were dotted around the house in realistic stock images pasted onto cup coasters, napkins and a cloth covering their wooden dining table beside the kitchen counter.

Photo frames boasting the members of his family tempted you to take a peek, but you reined in your curiosity for the sake of making a good impression on his parents whom you hadn’t planned on meeting. Your imagination betrayed you, looking at your unexpected entrance from the point of view of his parents – a girl they never met visiting their son. All sorts of romantic implications could spring forth, manifesting a second butterfly in your stomach to keep the first one company.

You couldn’t be more grateful to Mr Kim posing you a question to curb your inappropriate train of thoughts till you noted the knowing twinkle in his eyes. “What’s your name, dear?”

“I’m–“

“Honey? Is someone here? I thought I heard the doorbell,” it was a female who spoke and soon appeared rushing down a flight of stairs, youthful beauty not yet lost on her face despite her physical age. She spotted you first, the only mysterious person in her house, though she had addressed her husband who spoke up before you could.

“This is Jin’s friend, uh…”

“_____,” you supplied with a small bow. “I’m _____.”

“Hi sweetheart,” the universe must have decided that opposites worked well together in terms of parents and children, seeing their warm nature as a stark contrast to Seokjin’s dead serious businessman persona. “Wow.. I didn’t know Jin was friends with such a pretty girl.”

For a brief moment, you assumed you were in the wrong house and then the investor was speaking up, straight to the point as always, “You wanted to talk to me, _____?”

“Oh hush, that can wait,” Mrs Kim’s gaze didn’t leave you as she made her way to the kitchen. “Have you eaten?”

“Uh…” you paused, “no, not yet.”

“We were just about to have lunch. Would you like to join us?”

“I–” A quick glance exchanged between you and Seokjin proved to be useless given his neutral expression, neither objecting to nor overly thrilled at the idea, so you went ahead to accept her invitation knowing it would be rude to turn her down. “Sure, thank you.”

“How do you two know each other?”

Mr Kim’s question prompted every memory you had over the past several days with Seokjin to resurface. The first response off the top of your head, an attempt to make them laugh yet would only lead to his parents assuming you participated in illegal activities in your free time, was erased as soon as you thought of a second more reasonable one.

“I used to go to high school with Hoseok. He’s my best friend, and we met through him.”

That couldn’t be considered a lie. You did have your first proper introduction and conversation the day you visited Kim Investments.

“Ah, Hoseok?” Mrs Kim’s grin at the mention of her son’s college buddy informed you she knew him too. It wasn’t hard to picture him visiting his house the same way you were doing now. “Isn’t he a famous dancer now?”

“Choreographer, mum,” Seokjin corrected her gently, twirling a fork around long strands of pasta on his plate but surprisingly not uninterested in the conversation going on.

Reaching for a glass of water they offered was apparently the wrong time to swallow something because it went down the wrong pipe after his father’s next inquiry.

“And how long have you been dating?”

Muffling your spluttering coughs behind a cupped palm over your mouth wasn’t needed since Seokjin’s indignant protest of Dad! overpowered it anyway, all the while you desperately cleared your throat and tried to return your breathing to a normal pace.

“We’re not–“ another cough, less violent, and a deep inhale through your mouth, “we’re just friends, sir. Honest. I mean, not that your son isn’t, uh… handsome.”

It was his turn to nearly choke on invisible oxygen molecules as he turned to stare at you with eyes wider than the moon.

“Or a good person,” you were frantic in adding. “He’s a great friend, but we only met a few days ago.”

“Ah, that’s too bad,” you pretended to be oblivious to the glint in his deep brown orbs, blaming the sunlight shining through a nearby open window.

The romantic insinuations you’d suspected they would have earlier were a warning, you realised.

His mother, to your relief, didn’t pick up the subject where her husband had left off, yet the subject she brought up bristled at you in the same manner. “Just curious, _____, what do you do for a living?”

Their judgement somehow worried you more than any of your other relatives who’d blatantly expressed their disapproval in the past. Words stuck themselves in the back of your throat like broken glass shards, debating whether a lie would be easier despite knowing it would lead to a snowball effect of more lies and tarnish Seokjin’s impression of you further.

Not to mention reveal your family secret the second time in a row.

“Well,” your upper row of teeth bit down hard on one corner of your lower lip, eyes flickering to a vase holding a single stem of orchids at the center of the dining table, “I… uh… I own a cart.“

“A cart?”

“She sells things that help people on a personal level,” Seokjin ignored your head whipping over in shock, effectively stealing the attention of his parents from you and relieving the tension from your shoulders. “Jungkook was facing an inspiration block for his portfolio, but she gave him a sketchbook and helped him overcome it. Also, you know that company whose CEO was fired because of unfair recruitment?”

Mrs Kim peered closer, intrigued. “Yes?”

“She and one of their employees found evidence proving his biassed treatment. They were the ones who reported it to the police. Now, anyone applying for a job there has an equal chance of getting in.”

“Really?” You missed the impressive beam on her face, too busy gazing at the man who made your job sound more glorified than it normally was. “That’s incredible.”

“T-thank you,” you recovered your voice, although your gratitude was mainly directed towards Seokjin. “I know my work isn’t exactly conventional, but… I love what I do, and I wouldn’t change it for anything.”

You were aware of his satisfied, sage-like smile now, settling into the backrest of his chair. “Well, that’s the most important part of working. If you don’t, it’ll just feel meaningless. I’m glad you found your passion, _____.”

It was weird how a person you had just gotten to know could make you feel more validated than those who had been in your life for as long as you could remember. Nonetheless, it rendered you speechless for a solid five seconds, welcome relief coursing through every fibre of your being and you could finally rest comfortably in their presence.

The rest of the dinner went by with the usual questions of your family and a few embarrassing yet endearing stories of what Seokjin did in his childhood, ones he’d tried and failed to stop his parents from recounting which doubled your amusement knowing he once loved the colour pink so much he’d wanted it to coat the walls of his room with it. There was something else that dawned on you that afternoon too, something potentially dangerous, not to your safety but your mental and emotional health – a curiosity to discover more of who Kim Seokjin was behind the stern front he put up in the world of business, a softer side of you found yourself wishing to see more of and maybe, if possible, elicit.

That bizarre sense of peace stuck around, translating into the gentle lap of blue waves against the shore where you only had to veer a few footsteps to your right to damp your shoes. Seokjin strolling silently beside you on golden granules was the result of his parents suggesting he take you on a small tour, one he’d happily obliged mostly to prevent you from listening to any more of his adventures as a kid.

“Thank you,” you were the first to break the silence hanging in the air, “for what you said about my job. You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” the firmness in his voice caught you by surprise once again. “Other people shouldn’t make you feel inferior just because you’re doing something different. It’s refreshing, actually. What’s so great about being stuck in another boring office job?”

“That’s very ironic, coming from you,” you pointed out, gently prodding his arm with an index but quickly pulling away when you came into contact with shockingly hard muscles beneath his sleeve. “You know, when I told my parents about my idea to sell things from a cart, my mum didn’t take it well.”

A hint of an emotion close to sympathy was evident in his softened voice, “Oh.”

“She said no one would want to marry someone without a proper job, let alone no university degree,” repeating the words aloud twisted a corner of your heart in painful remembrance of the biggest fight you had to experience with her. “That’s kind of why I reacted that way when your dad asked if we were dating.”

You didn’t fully understand why you felt you could open up to him, yet you continued on. “I like to say that I’m too busy with work to date, when the truth is… I’m scared to try, because I know she’s right. People aren’t very accepting. I told you I faced it before.”

There was a short pause where you fiddled your fingers that interlinked with each other, eyes as shifty as the sand lulled by the push and pull of the tide to shore.

“That’s okay,” he reassured gently, “it’s normal to be scared. But with all due respect, I disagree with your mother.”

“…Huh?”

A bashful rub of his hand to the back of his neck you swore had caught fire with how red it was becoming, then he mumbled quietly, “I think you’re marriage material.”

The ocean must have chosen that exact moment to swell up in one humongous tidal wave and crash over you, roughly dragging your immobile form out into its depths to give you time to ponder over what they meant. Until you were given clarity on what you were to him – thief, law breaker or friend – you were going to be floating out at sea for quite some time.

But his next question served as a lifeline to pull you back to the safety of the golden shore, shaking you out of your stunned state. “What was it you wanted to ask me?”

“O-oh, right,” your fingers closed around the business card you’d tucked in your jean pocket, soon placed atop his upturned palm. “Do you recognise this?”

“Jewel Ace…” he trailed off, head tilting in thought. “They’re an international jewellery company, one of the most popular luxury brands in the world. Why do you ask?”

“I went to collect some flowers from Sohyeon; she’s the friend I was visiting. She wasn’t in the shop, and no one has seen her since yesterday,” you explained, taking the card back. “So I tried to look for her in her house, but she wasn’t there. That’s where I found this.”

“Maybe she went out of town.”

“That doesn’t explain why she didn’t answer any of my texts or calls.”

“She could be busy,” Seokjin offered a second good point, “but I don’t think anything bad happened, so don’t worry too much.”

“Yeah…” you scanned the words one more time en route to him passing the card back to you, unaware of a light frown furrowing your brows. “I hope so.”

You knew you should have trusted your instincts.

The discomfort that had set up camp in your chest discovering she wasn’t anywhere to be seen didn’t leave until three days went by, instead morphing into sub zero ice stalling the rhythmic pattern of your heart almost permanently when the list of names suddenly emitted an eerie glow…

…and erased Sohyeon’s name with it.

#bts #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts reactions #kim seokjin #kim seokjin imagine #kim seokjin x reader #seokjin fluff #seokjin imagine #seokjin x reader #seokjin scenarios #seokjin scenario #fic: little cart of wonders

13 notes · View notes

cryxtal-moon · 2 years

Text

little cart of wonders | ksj - 04

Genre/warnings: investor!Seokjin, cart owner!reader, magic au, strangers to lovers, slow burn, fluff, a teensy bit of angst, adventure, reader has magic, Seokjin is a little stern at the start, Seokjin is adorably bad at feelings and flirting but he gets better and that’s what matters hehe, some TXT members show up too

Word count: 3k

Pairing: Seokjin x reader

Author's note: posting part 3 by itself felt too lonely, so here's a special gift hehe :)

Long sleeves of a white shirt stretched as you pulled a sky blue vest over it, both items one size too big, but effective in blending you in as a cleaner staff working for Pico Tech.

Wonwoo had nabbed it from a storage closet next to a broom, dustpan and a small haversack originally filled with cleaning supplies. You’d snuck in as his personal guest in the evening fifteen minutes ahead of the time people got off work, ten having passed since you changed out of your ordinary home clothes in the lady’s bathroom and made your way to the highest floor in the building.

A polished gold nameplate plastered on mahogany double doors acted as a small billboard, alerting you of where the CEO’s office was situated: right at the end of the hallway. Securing a white and blue squarish cap tighter around your head, you played your part pretending to sweep dust and hair off immaculate marble tiles until the opening of those doors echoed along the walls, right on schedule.

You made sure to bow at the waist when a man decked out in a black suit headed past, barely acknowledging you unlike the younger security guard trailing behind who dipped his head in a smaller greeting. None of them had bothered to see your face up close, nor did they suspect a thing. Their combined footsteps grew softer, stopped altogether for a few seconds, then an electronic ding of the elevator reached your ears.

Hoisting the cleaning equipment along with you, you followed suit, taking the elevator meant for staff only all the way down to the ground floor. The CEO and his personal bodyguard were already leaving by the time you reached. Other than the receptionists leaving their posts behind the counter and security guards entering the building to start their shift, not a single employee lingered in the lobby.

It was time.

You discreetly fished your phone out of the vest’s front pocket, the pads of your thumbs swiftly tapping away at the screen in a message to Wonwoo.

_____:

The CEO just left. No one else is in the lobby, just the guards.

White text bubbles popped up within two seconds.

Lee Wonwoo:

Got it. Give them the drink and go to the surveillance room, second door on the left of the corridor behind the counter.

The “drink” was a concoction you had come up with in the past before you opened your little cart. While experimenting on flowers to find the right tea to help your customers relax, you’d tried dozens of different combinations, one in particular you vowed never to subject yourself to again: the dormiere poppy.

Its petals had a rather unexpected effect of instantaneous sleepiness after you boiled them and drank the liquid, unintentionally visiting the dream world and waking up a solid half an hour later. Mixing them in with the lavender flower essentially doubled the strength of the effect and time, which gave you and Wonwoo precisely one hour to execute the plan.

“Excuse me,” you called out to the guards in a voice sweeter than honey, removing the tea you had packaged into plastic cups from inside the haversack. “I wanted to give all of you a drink, as a thank you for helping to keep this place safe.”

“Wow, really?” One of them spoke up on behalf of the group, though you were already doling out the cups to every single person who had no choice but to accept your kindness.

“It’s just some homemade tea, but yes. Jobs like ours are tough and often overlooked,” you smiled for added measure, “so I wanted to let you know you’re appreciated.”

A round of verbal gratitude later and all of them were gulping down the sweet drink, some finishing it on the spot, others leaving some behind for later. The amount they drank didn’t matter – one drop was all it took for the poppy to take effect.

Snores from the guards who had taken to lying on the ground soon resonated around the room.

Removing the evidence by storing every drink back inside the bag, you hastened to get to the empty surveillance room where the guards in the morning had left earlier to be replaced by those currently in deep slumber near the main counter.

Another item tucked in the depths of your bag was a blue thumb drive Wonwoo had given to you back in his office for this exact moment.

“The malware inside can absorb and delete all information. Plug it into the computers in the surveillance room and shut down the cameras.”

You barely dared to touch the drive, jaw hanging a little ajar watching him place it inside the bag. “How do you even have that?”

“I’m a game developer, _____. Coding’s my life.”

Gloves you had pulled on somehow didn’t make the thumb drive slip in your grasp as you carefully shoved it into a USB port. The best way to describe the sudden electronic phenomenon taking place before your eyes was a tech miracle – one by one, each rectangular security feed on the multitude of screens emptied out into wavy monochrome lines, identical to those on television indicating the loss of signal. Wonwoo truly hadn’t been kidding about his expertise.

Shutting the whole system down was a piece of cake. You pulled the main plug out for double security, accomplishing the task in half the time you took to remove the gloves and fire off a text to him about your success. A brief commendation of your efforts was his response while you headed to the lift lobby and past the dozing guards, pressing the up button on both sides to see which would arrive faster.

Preteen you would have compared this to a spy movie you’d once watched on television with your brother. It unknowingly checked all the important boxes: infiltration, reconnaissance and undercover identity, except this wasn’t an actual mission assigned to you by an international spy organisation.

But the one thing both real life and movies had in common was Murphy’s law: anything that can go wrong, will. In this case, it came in the form of an unexpected meeting with a person you recently got to know, the one you had accidentally revealed your secret to days ago.

Seokjin stood behind the first pair of elevator doors to slide open, right next to someone you didn’t recognise and your brain couldn’t compute.

For a split second, you thought some invisible being, perhaps the same one who had given your family supernatural powers, had chosen that exact moment to encase your whole body in ice. The sound of your breath catching in the back of your throat alerted him of your presence, a hand going up to slap over your mouth in a much too late attempt to stifle the sound; he soon mirrored the same shock permanently etched onto your features.

However, there was another sound, one that had the power to break you out of the subzero cage, ringing from behind you, and you darted into the other elevator in time with his lips forming around the call of your name.

What was he doing here? Was he sent by some opposite deity to jinx or stop you in your every attempt to help people from then on? Was it some form of punishment for stealing Jungkook’s sketchbook?

The pound of your heart seemed deafening in your ears as you reached up to grasp the cap, very nearly pulling off the strands of hair peeking out of it your fingers also entangled with. You and Wonwoo had accounted for every obvious possibility – the guards, the security cameras, the CEO leaving the office – yet the one thing you hadn’t factored in could and now would be your downfall: unprecedented outsiders visiting the building.

Seeing electronic red numbers rising on a black panel of the same elevator Seokjin had been in confirmed your worst fears: he was indeed following you.

“Wonwoo,” you gasped, shutting the doors of the CEO’s spacious office and placing the haversack next to it, shivers dancing across every nerve in your body but strangely leaving your voice unaffected. “We’re in trouble. I ran into someone at the lift lobby and now he’s following me. I don’t think he knows where I am so please tell me you found the records.”

Light from the computer he stood in front of contributed to the pallor to his skin at your words, his own leaving in a harsh whisper. “Yeah. I did. The file’s downloading now, just give me a few more seconds–“

One of the grand double doors burst open, and the frightened yelp that left your mouth couldn’t be helped.

“_____!” Seokjin’s volume was a tiny notch below full-out yelling, wasting no time in marching over to your trembling stature that backed up with each step he took. “What on earth are you doing?”

“I-I would love to explain,” your back hit the surface of something soft, forcing you to stop in your trek backwards while holding both hands up in surrender as the investor towered over you, “but now’s not really the best time–“

“DONE!”

You whirled on your heel to see Wonwoo triumphantly snatching his own black thumb drive out of a USB port. “You got it?”

“Yeah,” his large victorious smile as he shut the computer down juxtaposed Seokjin’s stormy expression searing craters into the back of your head, “it’s all here.”

The investor was the one who asked the question in your stead. “What is?”

“I read through the files,” he spared a quick glance at the uninvited guest who could potentially ruin your mission. “They have everything: the company’s illegal background checks on the employees, resumes marked with rejections and acceptances, notes on how the interviews were a formality. It’s more than enough evidence to bring the CEO down.”

You tilted your head a little. “Just the CEO?”

“Well, him and the panel of interviewers who are involved. The board of directors aren’t. I’ll send an email to them, the news station and the police. They’ll be able to handle the situation from there. I’ll make sure it’s from an anonymous source, so you don’t have to worry about being caught.”

“Great. We have–“ a quick check of the hands of a clock strapped to your wrist “–thirty minutes left before the guards wake up.”

“That’s more than enough time. Here,” he held the bag containing your home clothes out to you, “get changed. We’ll leave by the back entrance; it’s where I parked my car.”

“Oh no you’re not. _____,” Seokjin was the only thing standing in the way of you accomplishing the final phase of the plan, still glaring daggers at you as you turned back around to look at him. “You’re coming with me.”

All the questions you had about his sudden appearance were shoved to the back of your mind – you couldn’t afford to waste time and have something else surprise you, not when you were so close to achieving your goal. But his demand had caught you entirely off-guard.

“What? Why?”

“What do you mean why? First I catch you stealing–“

You scoffed. “I already told you that was a spur of the moment decision–“

He ignored you and powered on, “–and now you’re breaking and entering into an office? Are you a criminal?”

“No I’m not! I promise I’ll tell you everything,” the desperation in your tone had you almost going down on your knees and pleading for him to be patient, “but we have to get out of here first.”

“Exactly. That’s why you’re coming with me,” his fingers were gripping your forearm hard enough to cut off the blood circulation before he was quite literally dragging you out of the large room, Wonwoo staring at you from behind the mahogany desk with brows furrowed in bewilderment.

“I’ll– whoa,“ your feet tripped clumsily over the other on the metal lip between the carpet of the office and marble tiles lining the hallway, barely getting the words out as you were pulled further away, “I’ll text you!”

The door slammed shut with a resounding bang thunderous enough to make you flinch.

Tense silence in Seokjin’s car coated the air like a thick fog after you were forcibly hauled out of the office and shoved into the front seat.

Moonlight mixed together with the white artificial lighting of street lamps illuminated his face in an almost ethereal glow, but it only reminded you of his domineering nature rather than steal your breath away at how stunningly handsome he was. You were too disoriented by him showing up out of nowhere, and more importantly frustrated at how he had messed your plan up, to be grateful he had allowed you time to change back into your home clothes before leaving Pico Tech.

Your mind had begun to wander back to Wonwoo, whom you had unintentionally left to his own devices to complete the mission, when the investor’s voice shattered your train of thought and made you jolt against the grey leather seatbelt.

“Are you going to explain what happened or do I have to repeat myself?”

His eyes never strayed from the glass windshield in posing the second demand of the night, expectantly waiting for your response while casually manoeuvring the steering wheel in his grasp, though you knew they held the same judgmental look he’d given you the night you first met. Anyone would have found a drop-dead gorgeous man’s one handed driving incredibly hot. To you, all it did was light a spark of annoyance in your chest, narrowing your eyes at him and hoping he could feel the tangible heat of your gaze burning a hole in his side profile.

“Ask nicely,” you shot back through gritted teeth, “and maybe I will.”

A scoff leaving his lips was paired with a smug smile added fuel to the spark and transformed it into a small fire; you could literally feel your body temperature rising with each passing second.

“Did you forget that I caught you breaking into an office building?”

“I didn’t break in,” you insisted, “I visited the company as Wonwoo’s guest.”

“Wonwoo?”

“The guy who was with me just now. He works for Pico Tech. Wait,” a thought suddenly occurred to you, “why were you there?”

“Believe it or not, I was also visiting someone.”

Your head jerked back a fraction till he added, “Only I wasn’t committing a crime.”

“For the love of– I wasn’t either!” Your exclamation somehow overpowered the unexpected clap of thunder in the velvet sky overhead. “All I did was pretend to be a cleaner, give the guards some tea that made them fall asleep, and delete the security footage–“

This time you needed no prompting to cut yourself off mid-sentence, realisation whamming into you harder than a freight train at full speed how you weren’t helping yourself sound like any less of a criminal than he probably thought you were.

Face-palming, your groan was muffled into your hands. “Okay,” you took a deep, calming breath in an attempt to soothe your palpitating heart, “how about I start from the beginning?”

“Go ahead,” he nodded, still not caring to look at you, “I have time.”

Once again, you launched into a full-on explanation, though you made it as simple to understand right off the bad as you possibly could. The entire time Seokjin sat there, asking no questions whatsoever, made you increasingly nervous with every word leaving your mouth. Considering he had to spare half of his attention to the state of the road ahead so he could drive you home safely, you did your best to push the feeling aside and focus on removing the impression he had of you as a delinquent.

At the very least it was much better than Cheol-su freaking out at you over the phone, an inevitable consequence you would worry about later.

But it didn’t help that he continued to remain quiet once you had finished the story, expression utterly unchanged, giving you no clear indication of what he was going to say next. You take it back; maybe it was ten times worse than your brother’s reaction because his was actually predictable. You found yourself hugging your upper arms tightly against your chest in wait of his verdict, wondering if shoving the door open and throwing yourself out onto the bustling traffic just to escape this unbearable silence was an even bigger criminal offence.

“_____,” despite his voice finally shattering the tension and causing you to jump slightly, you stubbornly refused to look at him. “I know you want to help people, but you’re going to put yourself in serious danger if you keep this up.”

You managed a weak chuckle, the barest uplift of your lips in a half smile. “I… don’t always do something like this. Normally, I just stick to my wooden cart.”

“Yet it seems every time we meet, I always catch you breaking the law.”

“Doesn’t that make you a witness?”

“I’m already keeping your little secret, _____. Don’t make me go to the police and file a report.”

You turned to him then, eyes narrowing. “Are you threatening me?”

“I’m asking you to do what you said: stick to your cart,” an effortless twirl of the steering wheel preceded his Subaru slowing to a smooth halt next to your apartment, “and stay out of trouble.”

Your lighthearted eye roll contradicted your next promise, “I will.”

“But I think I owe you one.”

“Huh?”

“Jungkook hasn’t stopped drawing since you left. Whatever you did to his stuff worked a bit too well.”

In the past, you had overheard a previous customer whom you gave an instant camera to saying it was an open-minded, relaxed sort of feeling, but at the same time fuelled their determination. The closest way they could summarise it was finding inspiration after a creative block and you imagined that Jungkook had experienced the same.

“Ah…” fingers toyed with the low ponytail over your shoulder, “it does that sometimes.”

Awkwardness only had three seconds to linger in the atmosphere before the sound of mechanical clicking reached your ears, locks springing open from inside the car. “It’s getting late. You better go; you’ve caused enough mischief for one day.”

“You never know,” the playful sing-song earned you a glare, though without any real frustration behind it. “I could sneak into your company next.”

“Is that your way of saying thank you for driving me home?”

“Nope, this is.”

You practically hopped out of the front seat, whirled around back to him with a large smile, then you bowed at a ninety degree angle with a dramatic flourish of your hand mimicking that of a magician removing their top hat. “Goodbye, Kim Seokjin. I hope we never have to see each other again.”

His irritated sneer added an extra jovial skip in your step.

13 notes · View notes

cryxtal-moon · 2 years

Text

little cart of wonders | ksj - 03

Word count: 2k

Pairing: Seokjin x reader

Author's note: this part is mostly setup. Still, I hope you enjoy it >_<

Sometimes you roamed the city in search of the next person you could assist, although it was mostly to enjoy a relaxing walk through the streets of your home away from home.

Bustling crowds of adults with day jobs and all sorts of students and elderly folks with plastic bags swinging from the crooks of their knuckles. Cars honking on the streets zooming past you reflecting the same blazing sun off their windows as glass windows attached to office buildings did. An occasional pigeon fluttering into your path to be chased away by someone else power-walking down the street on the opposite side from you.

The silver name of Cheol-su’s company could be seen glinting in the daylight of summer just by turning your head a little to the right. Speaking of your brother, he nearly lost his mind at the news that you had revealed the family secret to someone and was one step away from going insane knowing he was the senior manager of Kim Investments. Only thanks to your not-so-gentle reminder that he had close to a hundred employees under him because of his high executive position did he regain some semblance of calm.

Mentally picturing the stern look on his face on that day had you shaking your head with a rueful sigh, coincidentally at the same time as someone else’s who was walking on your right with their head hung dejectedly. The way your eyes searched his face despite the short distance separating you two was instinctive – a bad habit you were trying to break even though it helped greatly in deciding on the next customer – ticking his physical attributes off a mental checklist.

Pale complexion, messy hair, dark circles beneath his eyes, and chapped lips. How he appeared to be on the verge of tears was the cherry on top. Sympathy twisted your heart and the direction of your feet to close the gap in between you, but a bicycle whizzed through the small space, something none of you had seen coming, the shock of it making the guy stumble over his untied sneakers to land on the stone pathway with a thump.

That could have been the final straw for waterworks to spill out, yet, it also granted you the perfect opportunity to rush over and offer him a hand.

“Are you alright, sir?” Concern laced in each syllable was as prominent as the surprise shining in his eyes. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

“N…no,” his hand stretching out to yours hesitated halfway, two seconds passing for him to finally accept your help and you pulled him to his feet with ease, watching as he dusted off the back of his jeans. “Thank you, miss.”

“No problem,” you shook his hand where it was still connected with yours twice then let it go, “you can call me _____. By any chance…” a deep, silent inhale filled you with hope, “would you care for a drink?”

That was how you found yourself sitting across from him in a quiet outdoor bar, a sparkling green bottle of grape flavoured soju, a plate of grilled pork, hot water and two cups you ordered perched on a table. You learned his name in the three minutes you took to find this place. It would have to suffice in place of your cart for the moment; you didn’t think Dae-hyun would have found it entirely coincidental if it appeared in the middle of nowhere.

“Before you dig in,” you removed a lavender flower you had in your bag for emergencies, placed it in a cup and poured water over it carefully, “have some tea. It’ll help you relax.”

He was far too tired to find it in him to disagree, lifting it to his lips for a few cautious swallows. Energy from the drink took its effect based on the way he relaxed into the back of his chair further, gratitude aiding him in regaining a small spark in his eyes.

“Thank you,” he spoke over the rim of the cup, “but why are you doing this? You don’t even know me.”

You simply smiled, “You looked like you needed some help, that’s all.”

Dae-hyun’s shoulders slumped further as he released a heavy sigh. It couldn’t be more obvious that something was bothering him, though that didn’t mean you would pry in an attempt to get him to talk about it. Patience, as you had learnt a long time ago, was key.

He served to prove your point the next time he spoke up, “I do, actually. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

The chopsticks in his hand were set down on the plate of meat a little rougher than normal in his frustration, you biting the corner of your lips to prevent wincing entirely.

“I applied to get into a gaming company a month back,” he began, “for a job in programming. Its entry requirements were to prepare a portfolio and pass a coding test, and those who were shortlisted would be interviewed.”

Leaning your weight on your elbows against the table, you peered a little closer to him, “I’m guessing you were one of them.”

“I was. The interview wasn’t too hard, at least, nothing I hadn’t prepared for. But then, three weeks ago…” Dae-hyun paused, drawing in a shaky breath, “I got an email saying I didn’t get in.”

“I didn’t understand why. My friend Wonwoo who applied with me was accepted. He and I have the same experience in the field. The only difference is where we interned to gain experience. Other than that…”

This was undoubtedly the most unique case you had ever come across. None of the trinkets in your cart had the solution, nor could you see him off with one in hopes that it would. Truthfully, you were stumped on ideas to help him properly – how could you when the problem appeared to lie beyond your control?

Your silence gave him room to continue on, and you had to make yourself pause in your pondering to listen, “I’ve been trying to look for a full-time job for weeks,” his forced chuckle held bitterness instead of mirth, “but nothing. I haven’t gotten any callbacks, just rejection emails. My parents aren’t taking it well, either. If I don’t get a job by the end of the summer, they’ll consider sending me to an overseas college. Apparently it’s better than wasting my time here.”

In the competitive world you lived in, the chances of that happening were low. You knew that all-too well, sympathy changing into empathy while watching him pour himself a cup of bubbly soju and gulping it down in one shot.

Still, your fiery resolve refused to settle, trying to get somewhere in your next question, “Can you tell me the name of the company?”

He nodded, mumbling it through a bite of meat, “Pico Development Tech.”

“Got it,” you removed another flower to place it in front of where his hands lay on the table with a gentle smile. “Take this. I’m sorry, that's all I can give you for now.”

A small perk of his lips had the ghost of a beam dimpling into his cheeks, tiny but progress you appreciated wholeheartedly, “No, it’s okay. Thank you for listening. I’m glad I could talk to someone about it.”

You would make sure you wouldn’t just leave it at that.

“Is it just me, or do all companies insist on having such enormous buildings?”

The rhetorical question was spoken softly to yourself as you scowled at the third high-rise steel and glass structure of Pico Development Tech. This was the town part of the city; you genuinely shouldn’t have expected anything less than the wealthy proudly exhibiting their riches.

Glass double doors had been exchanged for manual ones where doormen stood ready to welcome company employees. One of them pulled the handle to let you in, in which you repeated the process of asking the receptionist where you could find Wonwoo whom you discovered was just about to head home. You’d thought ahead to visit Pico in the evening around the general time office workers would get off work, hoping to be able to catch him in the lobby, although you had no clue what he looked like.

You had simply forgotten that magic worked in mysterious ways.

“Excuse me,” a deep voice behind you caused you to turn around, a gentleman decked in a grey suit standing a short distance away. “I thought I heard my name… are you looking for me?”

Artificial light reflecting off a plastic name tag slung around his neck had the words Lee Wonwoo printed in black block letters, though it wasn’t as bright as a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Yes, I am. I’m _____, a friend of Dae-hyun.”

The familiar name struck a chord in him judging how he froze on the spot. “Dae-hyun…?”

You stepped a tiny bit closer, making sure you were gentle in your next question. “Are you free right now?”

You brought him to the wooden cart, set up in a different park this time, far enough away from other visitors so no one could bother you. You made sure he was sitting at the chair and table you provided as you steeped the same calming floral tea for him, its aroma already taking effect should the slump of his shoulders give away anything.

“Thank you,” a tilt of the ceramic teacup had him swallowing a gulp of the purple liquid and he relaxed even further, weariness of the work day taking its toll. “How do you know Dae-hyun?”

“Ah… I ran into him on the street earlier today,” you decided there was no harm in telling him the truth, especially because you required his help. Trust couldn’t be built on a lie. “I bought him a drink cause he looked really tired.”

A peal of disbelieving laughter holding no traces of mocking reached your ears. “You offered help to a complete stranger?”

“Believe it or not, that’s actually my job.”

“Well,” he set the cup down on a matching ceramic plate with a soft clink, “you did the one thing I couldn’t. And for that, I owe you.”

Folding your arms over the tabletop, you peered closer to Wonwoo, hoping the sincerity in your eyes was clear. “Dae-hyun told me about what happened with Pico Tech. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I want to help him, but I can’t do that until I know more.”

A long, drawn-out sigh left his lips and entered into the darkening evening, sun setting behind the horizon, leaving a masterpiece of gold and orange pastels in its wake.

“Do you perhaps know why he wasn’t hired?”

His eyes dropped down to the surface of the tea, gazing intently into it as if he had gained the ability to look through the mixture, and he righted his head back up once five elongated seconds ticked by. “I do, actually.”

“We went in together on the day of the interview, so I knew how well he’d done. I expected him to receive the same letter of acceptance I did a week after, and when he said he didn’t, I told him I’d ask the CEO why, but it turns out I didn’t need to.”

“I found out the other employees around me all had internal connections to the company one way or another. Either that, or they came from successful family backgrounds. It was too commonplace for me to believe that it was a coincidence. My parents are the heads of a hospital in the city, but I had no idea the company knew about it.”

“I asked around further, and it turns out the interview was just a formality for some,” his grip tightened around the thin handle of the cup, the only outward expression of his frustration. It couldn’t be more obvious he had been bottling this up for quite some time. “The CEO doesn’t care about grades, university degree, or even your experience. The recruitment call for others like Dae-hyun was a ploy to give them false hope.”

This was one of the reasons you had been sceptical about applying for a job in the mainstream marketplace when you were little – you had heard some stories about unfair treatment in a professional work environment, and consider yourself fortunate never to have first-hand experience.

“I… I couldn’t face Dae-hyun afterwards,” his regret was as clear as a full moon hanging in the velvet blue night sky above your heads. “He was so disappointed about the results, but knowing the real reason would crush him. But I knew he wouldn’t want me to quit, even though I thought about it countless times. He’d think I was doing it for him.”

Silence fell over the small clearing in the time it took for the information to process itself in your brain, upper row of teeth assaulting one corner of your pearl pink lips, your stare fixated on one of the elaborate swirls of the white metal table legs in thought. This made Jungkook’s situation seem like a walk in the park. Should you truly choose to help, it would be the equivalent of being caught in a labyrinth with no guarantee of making it out.

“You said they knew about your parents,” it was spoken as a statement, not a question, regardless of his affirmed nod. “That means they also know about all the other employees’ backgrounds, so… I think they had to have done research, or some sort of background check.”

Wonwoo’s brows furrowed. “Yeah, probably, but where are you going with this?”

“The CEO probably has a record of all the recruits. If not, he wouldn’t be able to choose who he wants,” you clarified. “I know it’s a wild guess, but if we can find that record, we’ll have evidence of his unfair recruitment.”

“Find it? What do you mean?”

“I promised Dae-hyun I’d help him,” your tone couldn’t be firmer, nor could the way you pinned your eyes on his brown orbs, “and I know it’s risky, but he and many other potential recruits weren’t given a fair chance. This unfair treatment has gone on long enough. It’s high time someone did something about it.”

He swallowed, but not tea. “Do you have a plan?”

“I should be able to come up with one by tomorrow.”

“No need,” he straightened out the front of his blazer, fiery determination in his eyes mirroring the one you felt when you were aiding your previous customer. “I’ve got something in mind.”

12 notes · View notes

cryxtal-moon · 2 years

Text

little cart of wonders | ksj - 02

Word count: 3k

Pairing: Seokjin x reader

Author's note: part 2 here we go :)

In all the years of using magic to help people, you pride yourself in knowing how to keep it a secret, for the simple fact that you were one of the most at risk.

You didn’t hide within the walls of a skyscraper steel and glass building one floor away from disappearing into the azure sky completely or confine yourself to a large room with a charming view of the cityscape like your brother. Working in an office was, quite frankly, one of your worst fears. Nor did you have a private greenhouse laboratory where you could brew magic potions disguised as medicine from plants you nurtured like your mother. Your father didn’t have the ability – he was the only normal one entrusted with the secret, but went about imparting knowledge all the same to hundreds of students in literature classes.

You went with a more upfront approach, your love for helping people directly overruling the worry of your methods not being entirely conventional, though it had taken some convincing for your parents to agree. Lessons in business management throughout your time in high school were merely a safety net should you ever change your mind, even if they just taught you where to buy materials to make the trinkets displayed on the cart.

Three days have passed since your last encounter with Seokjin. You hadn’t dared to go anywhere near the college vicinity in fear of running into either of them again, not even with the notion of worrying over whether you had managed to help Jungkook. Everything had happened in a blur too quick for your mind to process, yet your concerns if you had used the right spell of inspiration were eased when you saw an envelope on the table, the usual magic cheque at the end of each month inside.

Hoseok, your high school best friend turned successful dance choreographer for an entertainment industry, probably gained another set of abdominal muscles from how much rambunctious laughter was still wracking his body. Recounting the entire tale to him was apparently much more effective than any gym workouts Jimin put him through.

“You just left him standing there?” He managed to get out between bouts of giggles you would have normally found infectious if it weren’t for how annoyed you were. “Oh my god, I would have killed to see the look on his face.”

The dancer was also one of the few friends you trusted implicitly to keep your family secret.

“Stop laughing!” Your harsh whack to his shoulder just made him double over. How he was able to properly walk down a bustling city street next to you was truly miraculous. “It’s not funny, okay? He knows my secret now. He’ll probably tell everyone else to stay away from me cause I’m a complete nut–“

“Okay, let me just stop you there,” a hand on your shoulder quite literally halted you in your tracks, unintentionally next to a convenience store’s outdoor shelf of magazines. “Who’s gonna believe him, hm? When you first told me, I thought you were crazy. I didn’t tell my friends cause they’d probably think the same.”

You bit your lip, still uncertain. “Really?”

“Without evidence, what’s he gonna say? Hey, I know this girl with powers. She stole my friend’s sketchbook and performed a magic trick right in front of me.”

A scoff of indignation and amusement huffed past your lips. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Exactly! See?” Hoseok winked with a giant grin, “You have nothing to worry about.”

It was then you turned to the right, sunlight glinting off a very uncomfortably familiar person on the cover of a random magazine catching your attention.

“Wait a second,” you pondered aloud, mostly to yourself, “is that…”

A few paces over and papers were fluttering in the slight breeze between your palms, Seokjin’s face staring back at you with a slight glare meant to intimidate, fierceness emphasised ten fold by the sharply-cut white shirt, black tie and slacks adorning his form where he perched on a high stool. Business Times in an equally razor-edged font was printed in black across the top though it didn’t take away from the undeniably handsome young man.

The magazine started to tremble a little in your grasp. “This…” your voice was barely above a frightened whisper, “this is him.”

Hoseok wasted no time in going over, curiously eyeing the cover. “Who?”

“The guy I revealed my powers to.”

“Seokjin?” He peered a little closer to the image. “Hey! That’s Kim Seokjin!”

“You know him?”

“We shared an elective in college for a year,” he shrugged as though it was the most casual piece of information he carried around with him, despite how it made you stare at him like he’d sprouted a second head. “He’s an investor? Amazing… his career must have really taken off.”

Curiosity had you flipping the pages to where the article about him was written and it wasn’t too far from the content page seeing as he was literally on the cover, A Companion To Start-Ups being the title they went with. A modern company logo of a white club symbol, the same one found on poker cards, stood inside overlapping green and blue squares impressed beside the name Kim Investments. More pictures of him in the same outfit except in different positions – standing by the window with both hands in his pockets, and sitting before a table they brought as a prop to pretend to work – were featured, all found next to a bunch of immaculate white text of transcribed interview questions and his answers.

“We always said he was handsome but wow,” rustling of fabric reached your ears as he removed his phone from one of his jean pockets, “I need this for blackmail. Don’t move.”

You could feel the familiar beginnings of another panic mode overtaking your mind, but it halted in its tracks in processing his words. “What blackmail? These pictures aren’t bad.”

“Ah, _____, you wouldn’t get it,” he shook his head with an air of resignation, “he used to call himself worldwide handsome like all the time. We teased him for being narcissistic, but he always got shy when others complimented him. Just wait till I send this to the group. Namjoon and Yoongi are gonna freak.”

“I don’t believe freaking out is even in Yoongi’s nature,” you clapped the magazine shut tightly, placing it back among its friends, “and did you not hear what I said? He knows my secret! And now I find out he’s some big shot investor? He could sell me out to the public and that’s it. My family wouldn’t be safe anymore.”

“_____. Calm. Down,” Hoseok’s lowered tenor indicated his seriousness, this time gripping both your shoulders and shaking them to knock some sense back into you. “I know Seokjin. He’s trustworthy. All you need to do is explain to him the same way you did me. I promise he’ll listen to you.”

You sighed, his words doing little to comfort you. “Yeah, but how? It’s not like I’ll ever see him again.”

“Uh, hello?” Two arms waved wildly around in the air like he was trying to imitate a bird flapping its wings. “I have his number. I mean, we haven’t talked in awhile, but he never turns down visits from old friends. It just so happens I know exactly where his company building is, and it’s his lunch break.”

“How do you know that?”

“Social media does wonders in helping you find out what people are doing,” a few more taps on his phone screen and he was shoving the device in your face, what you recognised to be a post on Instagram taking up half the page with an aesthetic image of noodles next to an array of side dishes. “Also, he has a food account. Now come on.”

You barely had time to ponder over the peculiarity of a high powered businessman owning a blog similar to most food enthusiasts, feet clumsily tripping over a crack in the sidewalk when he grabbed your hand and pulled you alongside him, heading in the direction of his parked Subaru. “We’re doing this now?”

Hoseok shot you another smile over his shoulder, big and blinding. “No time like the present, sunshine.”

Kim Investments turned out to be a carbon copy of the massive skyscraper publishing company your brother owned, literally positioned a couple of blocks down, so close you could walk and be there in less than ten minutes flat. Tinted glass panels you knew were extensive windows covered the outside of the building completely, shiny enough to reflect the azure expanse of sky and clouds but conserving privacy so people could only guess what went on in those office rooms.

They just had to construct the front door out of glass as well, taking the chance to show off the name plate etched in elegant gold cursive on the overhanging awning. Everything appeared to be accented in gold from the mug of complimentary black ballpoint pens on the counter, to the waterfall again detailing the company’s name against a stone wall, to the crystal chandelier secured in the middle of the ceiling, to the designer outfits and accessories hanging off the arms of employees lounging around the front desk or lift lobby.

You could literally feel the heat of their gazes searing through your jacket sleeves and self-consciousness had you doing a quick once over of your attire; verdant jacket, white shirt, light wash skinny jeans (that thankfully weren’t ripped for the sake of fashion, intact to provide absolute coverage), and black sneakers. It was sad how the only item in gold you had to match the atmosphere was a drop necklace, a singular vertical bar hanging off one end, but it was better than nothing. A black blazer Hoseok had shrugged on in his car was his saving grace, sufficiently business-like so he didn’t draw too much unwanted attention.

You continued to glare at the smooth swoosh of the sliding doors opening to welcome you and him in, a little too reminiscent of Cheol-su’s building and you briefly wondered if Seokjin used the same interior designer as him when he first started out. Flecks of gold were even moulded into the surface of a marble counter you approached upon arrival.

“Hello,” your friend said with a certain charm he used in formal situations to the receptionist, “we’re here to see Mr Kim Seokjin.”

Light clicking of a keyboard reached your ears and she was looking up again, “Mr Kim is currently on his lunch break. Do you have a scheduled appointment afterwards?”

“No, but I’m an old friend of his. My name is Jung Hoseok.”

This time there was the rustle of paper as she pulled a black clipboard out of a hidden drawer, one perfectly manicured blood red nail sliding down the first page, probably with a black table or list printed on it.

“Ah, yes. You’re on his personal guest list.”

You nearly choked on the perfumed oxygen in the room. His what?

You could barely contain the smile threatening to burst on your face, though it did fade slightly when he led you past the fancy gantry you swiped using guest passes you received and to four polished golden elevators, two on each side. Honestly, you shouldn’t have expected any less.

“Seriously?” A laugh bubbled past you in the silence of the lift, louder than classical music streaming from overhead speakers. “Why does he have a personal guest list?”

In spite of the nudge to your left arm, his smile gave away the shared amusement, “Just be grateful. We wouldn’t be here without it.”

The elevator doors mimicked the same swish as the glass entrance but your frown disappeared once you stepped out into a massive cafeteria two times the size of the one in your old high school and a thousand times fancier. Vases of white orchids with dots of violet in the center graced each hardwood table, equally spaced out among themselves for walking room, white cushioned chairs adorning both sides. Stalls of food somehow appeared pristine, a far cry from the ones you’d seen in outdoor food courts. A spiral staircase was built at the far corner leading up to the second floor – a space you gasped outrightly at – and had the same gold metal railing you saw lining the elevator walls.

Only the gentle pressure of Hoseok’s arm around your shoulder guiding you deeper into the room reminded you that this wasn’t some complex dream. The memory of how he accused you to be a thief, one you had ridiculously proven otherwise, slowed your footsteps down so you were trailing behind him as he approached a door attached to an adjacent hallway.

“Knock knock,” ring-clad knuckles rapped on a darker wood though didn’t wait for the typical come in that would come after, simply pushing the handle down to peek his head in, “is the worldwide handsome in here?”

“Hoseok?” Muffled scraping of a chair could be heard on the grey carpeted floor before your friend’s entire stature disappeared behind the frame, at least at your vantage point against the wall where you were temporarily hidden from him. “Hey, it’s really you. What brings you here?”

“Well, I heard–“ long fingers wrapped around your upper arm, pulling you into view and you visibly flinched under the shocked widen of his eyes “–you had a rather interesting encounter with my pal _____.”

Eyes flickering up, you only allowed yourself to meet his gaze for a second, mustering the friendliest smile you could but it was tinged with awkwardness, “H-hi. Nice to see you, again…”

You didn’t have to glance up again to know he was pointing at you. “_____? How do you know each other?”

“That’s simple. College friend,” he referred to Seokjin while thrusting you forward none-too-gently, “meet high school friend.”

Once all three of you had settled down around a circle table filled with the dishes you saw on his online post, and he promised Hoseok he wouldn’t call any authorities on you, anxious butterflies fluttered relentlessly in the pit of your stomach. Somewhere between fiddling your fingers, hoping your stare didn’t burn a hole through the table’s surface and listening to the piano music streaming from a radio on a nearby counter, you wondered whether the awkward silence that had settled was bothering him as much as it was you. There was an entire speech you planned encompassing how your family had the inborn ability to sense and help people in need, how you were part of it and how important it was to be kept secret, yet the first thing that left your mouth just to dispel the uncomfortable quietness was,

“Do you believe in magic?”

That was all it took for Hoseok to burst out laughing, jovial sounds piercing the balloon of tension in the room with a sharp needle. “You’re starting with that?”

You landed another punch to his shoulder. “Hey! You’re not helping.”

Seokjin, however, remained unaffected by his reaction. The only form of visible surprise you saw was the way his doe eyes widened because his tone was calm in his next sentence, “Not really, why do you ask?”

You could almost taste the metallic tang of blood with how hard your teeth were assaulting your lower lip, “You’re gonna have to.”

That was all it took for you to launch off into the five-minute (you had timed yourself) backstory, words like the rapid-fire of a machine gun spilling from your mouth and not quite giving him space to ask questions or room for yourself to breathe. Hoseok, much to your relief, found a cup of ramen in the cupboard to entertain himself with and hadn’t interrupted once, other than the occasional snicker at his friend’s different expressions of confusion and intense focus in trying to understand everything.

It was just the tip of the iceberg, but you had second thoughts he actually believed you the moment you revealed that there were other people around the country hiding in plain sight too.

Only upon breaching the subject of meeting Jungkook did he speak up. “So that’s why he’s been going to the park so much?”

You nodded, white knuckles regaining their colour as you loosened your grip on the hem of your shirt. At least he didn’t look one second away from grabbing his phone and calling a mental hospital.

“Magic has a way of drawing people who need help to me. To them, it’ll just seem like coincidence.”

Seokjin looked down at his noodles, colder in the time he spent listening to you. “How exactly do you help them?”

A deep breath gave you the strength to continue, “You know I asked if you needed luck? Or courage?”

“Yeah…?”

“That’s what the trinkets are for,” you could see how he was trying to remember what he saw that night in the clearing, so you supplied, “The ones on the cart. All of them are filled with magic, but each has a different purpose.”

“Filled with magic?” He frowned, trying to understand. “Like… what you did yesterday?”

“That’s how I instil it, yes,” this time, you tightened your fingers around your arms. “I gave Jungkook inspiration. The next time he uses his sketchbook, he’ll get ideas right away. Also,” you straightened your spine to its full height, “I didn’t mean to steal his stuff. I just wanted to visit him and see what I could do to help, honest.”

“Oh, come on,” Hoseok cut in, a mischievous glint in his irises, “what’s a better meet cute than someone thinking you’re a thief and chasing you down?”

Now it was your turn to be puzzled. “Meet cute?”

“I’m sorry about that, by the way,” it confused you more to see a light shade of red dusting the tips of Seokjin’s ears while he reached around to rub the back of his neck, “for thinking you’re a thief.”

The entire daunting businessman image he exuded seemed to crumble slightly, and you found yourself able to relax more, shoulder blades slumping into the cushy backrest. “It’s okay. So… are we cool now? You won’t tell anyone about this, right?”

“Tell who? No one will believe me.”

Hoseok reached out to plop his palm on your head and ruffle your hair affectionately, “Told you.”

“Oh shut up.”

The shake of the choreographer’s head coincided with Seokjin rising to his feet, sweeping invisible specks of dust off the front of his blazer. “If that’s all, I need to attend a meeting now.”

The return of that persona made your heart jolt and it translated to the stutter in your next words, “Y-yeah, of course.”

A curt nod was sent your way, and then he turned to his old classmate. “It was nice to see you again, Hobi.”

“You too,” both guys exchanged a quick hug, “I’ll treat you to lunch one of these days. You can’t stay cooped up in your stuffy office forever.”

He sighed with feigned disappointment, “You sound just like my mum.”

“She’s right, though.”

The butterflies you felt earlier created a destructive tornado battling the walls of your tummy as Seokjin’s gaze lingered on you before you parted ways at the lift lobby, the investor taking one up to his penthouse-like office and you returning to the lobby, but you just brushed it off as remaining fear of his reaction to your secret.

Besides, there was no way you’d ever see him again.

22 notes · View notes

cryxtal-moon · 2 years

Text

little cart of wonders | masterlist

Genre/warnings: investor!Seokjin, cart owner!reader, magic au, strangers to lovers, slow burn, fluff, a teensy bit of angst, adventure

Pairing: Seokjin x reader

₊˚⋆ chapter index ⋆˚₊

part 1: secret revealed

part 2: knowing you

part 3: someone in need

part 4: an unexpected encounter

part 5: the start of trouble

part 6

part 7

22 notes · View notes

cryxtal-moon · 2 years

Text

little cart of wonders | ksj - 01

Word count: 3k

Pairing: Seokjin x reader

Author's note: Another series by yours truly, uwu >_<. This was inspired by this drawing I saw on Pinterest of a little wooden cart, and also the drama Start Up. Imagine Seokjin having the same position as Han Ji Pyeong, and that he looks like this in the story. Enjoy!

The little cart you owned held trinkets of every kind.

Presumably empty snow globes which triggered and stored memories of the person who bought it. Music boxes that played a person’s favourite song. Film, cameras, art blocks, notebooks and sketch pads that granted inspiration. Scented candles for chasing negative thoughts away, ferris wheels for good luck, key chains for self-confidence or courage, diaries and journals for writing honest thoughts.

Each of them were infused with magic, artfully organised beneath a leaf green awning, awaiting a potential customer who needed your help to come along. With time brought the occasional addition of a new little item since everyone you had met was different.

There were two main rules you had to follow:

Keep magic a secret

Never use it for personal gain or selfish purposes

Contrary to how it was portrayed in fictional story books, there were no wands, spells, or flashy displays of energy beams. It was as simple as waving your hands for a silver sphere to appear before imbuing it into an object. Nothing more, nothing less. That was how you used it, anyway. You couldn’t say the same for the others living around the country.

As long as your intentions were pure, you would be rewarded with monetary compensation every month to pay off daily expenses and rent. The simplest way you could describe it was having a literal magical job. Wherever you chose to set up your cart for the day would draw at least one person towards you by a force they deemed to be coincidence.

It was either that, or magic would compel you to travel somewhere, the feeling you described as something tugging at your heart strings, not leaving you alone till you found that person and proceeded to provide them with whatever they needed.

For the past three nights, it was the latter.

A guy who had been coming back to the place you had set it up, a secluded clearing of a park, had yet to tell you what was bothering him. Quiet types were very common in your line of work, people who required gentle persuasion and a listening ear to open up. However, it didn’t take longer than half an hour, let alone three whole days.

You had tried gentle persuasion, straight-up and indirect asking, casual conversation that allowed you to garner additional information on Jungkook being an art student in college, but it wasn’t the intel that you actually needed to assist him properly. Sadly, nothing worked. Mousey was the word befitting him the most and it didn’t help that you had given him calming tea since it made him relax and probably take a step closer to dreamland.

Ironically, it was the tea he kept coming back for. A lavender flower you used to steep the drink floated to the surface of a cup while you poured some out of a pot for him, its aroma perking the corners of his lips up in a small grin.

“Thank you,” gently clinking of ceramic reached your ears as he used the stirrer. “I wanted to ask you, what kind of tea is this?”

“It’s a homemade recipe,” you went with your usual response, because the truth was that these flowers were grown in your balcony. “You won’t find it anywhere else.”

Maybe next time you should prepare the re-energising tea for him instead – it had, on several occasions, spurred customers to prattle endlessly about the things troubling them. Or you could just pass him an entire box of those purple flowers to bring home so he could steep the tea himself. But none of those would solve your current problem.

The sound of footsteps approaching the clearing soon drew your attention to someone else who entered the clearing, wide eyes in search of the person you were trying to attend to. People could stumble across your cart while you were helping someone. It was a physical object they could see as long as you were around with the exception of not needing your services, but you appeased them with a small snack or a gift. This newcomer was just another one of them, but something about him had you doing a double take where you leaned against the front of the cart.

Golden brown locks were side swept, the ends of his bangs falling against his temples, a blue button down tucked into neat black slacks that emphasised just how tall he was. You offered him a friendly smile when his gaze landed on you, someone he didn’t expect to see. Professionalism was a must while you worked. It was best to keep it that way – he couldn’t know anything other than your willingness to help other people in need.

“Seokjin,” Jungkook waved using his hand that wasn’t holding the cup, “hi.”

“Hey,” slower steps drew his friend to the empty chair across from him, “so this is where you’ve been running off to?”

“Yup. It’s really peaceful out here.”

Partly because of the tea.

“Oh, by the way,” he motioned towards where you stood a small distance away, “this is _____.”

Call it automatic or a knee-jerk reaction, it didn’t matter; you delivered a customary greeting you had come up with years ago.

“Welcome to my little cart of wonders. If it is your wish, I will do my best to help you with any problem you’re facing.” You gestured lightly to the trinkets, adding, “Do you need a little luck? Courage? Or some self-confidence?”

“Not that last one. He has too much of it.”

“Hey!”

A whack he delivered to the back of Jungkook’s round head didn’t stop the bunny boy from laughing at his indignant outburst. “What? It’s true!”

Seokjin rolled his eyes with a huff, “Anyway, I came to check on you. How’s your portfolio coming along?”

You froze en route to the back of the counter. He never mentioned anything about that to you in your best efforts to get him to open up. Perhaps all it took was a close friend?

The sigh that had his shoulders slumping and face turning towards the direction of a river was all-too-familiar to your ears, having heard it countless times from every other person who crossed your path, one that never failed to come before them expressing their worries and leading to you providing a solution.

“Honestly… not great,” sympathy that bloomed in your heart for him calmed its eager drumming, your hands busying themselves in adjusting a few pinwheels so it didn’t look like you were listening, “I still need inspiration. A muse. I don’t know, just something.”

That was it. The magic word that left his mouth had you covering yours, a whispered exclamation of finally! muffling itself into your cupped palm.

“It’s due at the end of the semester, right?” Seokjin seemed just as concerned, though less excited, than you were in offering his help. “That’s four months from now. You still have time.”

His sad sigh went alongside his defeated comment, “Not enough.”

A thought occurring to you stopped your hands from reaching for a sketchpad: art students such as Jungkook would have their own materials stored in studios or dorms. Giving him an entirely new set of equipment would be abrupt and a little strange, even if you insisted that they would help him in a way normal ones couldn’t.

Now you understood why the compulsion to help him was stronger than those you had previously felt – the solution to his problem required a more effective plan than giving him something and sending him on his merry way.

“Well,” another light click of ceramic was heard, followed by the scraping of metal against gravel, informing you that Jungkook was going to leave with an unsolved problem for the third night in a row, “it’s getting late. Thanks again for the tea, _____. See you tomorrow?”

“Sure,” you rounded a corner of the cart, careful not to bump into the wheels attached to the side, “see you.”

You hadn’t expected to see Seokjin still lingering in the clearing after you collected the teacup and teapot to clean them. Long fingers delicately brushed the petals of an orchid growing in the center of a small bouquet, then he carefully lifted a white music box sitting among its other multi-coloured companions.

“That plays your favourite song,” you helpfully supplied, missing the furrow of his brows in half confusion and half intrigue at your words in favour of washing the cup with water.

“You know what it is?”

“Nope,” the shake of your head was much too nonchalant for him to question whether you were lying, “it only works after you take it with you.”

“How about–“ he shoved his index towards a monochrome dreamcatcher hanging on a pink heart shaped thumbtack “–this?”

“Grants you sweet dreams, every night.”

He scoffed, crossing both arms over his broad chest. “I find that hard to believe.”

“You don’t have to,” you give him a casual shrug, having dealt with his kind of attitude countless times before, “you’re not a customer.”

“So the rest of them do?”

“Not always. Some need a little more convincing,” setting the tea set away in a drawer, you brace your elbows on the wooden counter’s surface to peer closer at him. Defined jawline and almond-shaped eyes gave him an intimidating handsomeness no one would have the courage to approach. “But the one thing I don’t need to convince them of is how they end up here.”

He tilted his head ever so slightly. “What do you mean?”

“Jungkook didn’t find my cart by accident, you know.”

“Seokjin!” The aforementioned boy drew his attention away for a few seconds, calling over to him a distance away from the clearing. “You coming or what?”

“Yeah, just–“ Seokjin turned back to where you were, or rather had been standing in front of him, a huge empty space of grass and stray fireflies replacing the cart as though he’d imagined the entire exchange.

You were gone.

You only began to feel regretful about leaving Seokjin the way you had the next morning once you had come up with a plan to help Jungkook. He probably thought you were some sort of illusion, or witch, but it was during the train ride to the college Jungkook attended you realised that the likelihood of seeing him again was close to zero. No way was a complete stranger going to wonder about you after how you had pulled a disappearing act like that in front of him – you meant nothing more to him than a fly someone swatted from their faces and didn’t think twice about.

Doubt to carry out the plan, however, began to drizzle over the fire of determination burning in your chest in the form of your brother’s voice through the phone.

“Enchant his art supplies? Are you crazy?” Cheol-su lowered his volume to a whisper for the first sentence to draw no attention to himself where he stood in his office, but increased it again in the next question.

“He needs my help,” you reasoned, frown deepening as you tried to unzip the pouch with your card with one hand. “College grades are important. I thought you knew that.”

“That doesn’t mean you should use your powers in broad daylight.”

Your scoff was thankfully audible over the speaker, though overpowered on your side by the train screeching to a halt, “This coming from the guy who publishes hundreds of books and sells them in stores all over the country.”

Cheol-su’s gift to help people gain knowledge through any topic he wrote about was why he had become an author and a high-powered executive of a publishing company in town, a towering building merely twenty minutes away from your little apartment. Compared to him, your method of using magic was not only less conventional, but put you at higher risk too.

An image of him placing his head into his free hand appeared in your mind upon hearing him sigh. “Just… be careful, _____. The last thing we need is for one of us to appear on breaking news.”

“I will. This isn’t the craziest thing I’ve done, remember?”

The rhetorical question was to assure him once you ended the call, but another rainstorm rolled in, threatening to extinguish the flame to embers the second you stood at the double gates of the gigantic campus swarming with students.

Calling the campus huge was an understatement. The only reference to a layout of this place was a map on your phone from the official college website, indicating you were a ten-minute walk away from the Modern Arts department where you knew art students frequented for classes.

Unfortunately for you, it didn’t look any less confusing or humongous than the map made it out to be, bunches of students walking by who nearly made you dizzy due to their colourful array of clothes. This was what it was like to be in an actual college, you supposed, having started your business straight out of high school.

Your first search area was the large lawn, dotted with the occasional mahogany bench on verdant grass and black street lamps holding gas-lit flames stationed at an equal distance from each other along winding walkways. Perhaps luck truly was on your side; it took you five seconds to spot a familiar round head perched on one of the seats at a secluded corner.

Jungkook was alone, too. A black bag leaned against one of the table legs, maw unzipped where you caught a glimpse of a word Sketch printed in white cursive on a notebook cover. That had to be it, an idea immediately taking shape in your mind while you cut a wide berth around the bench, leaning against a wall of the nearby building like you were spying on him from the shadows.

You ignored the stares cast your way by several students walking past to watch him closely, in wait of the moment he would leave. It was far too risky for you to create a spark and guide it to his bag out in the open like this. Besides, your brother would have your head if you got caught.

Five minutes ticking past on your watch was all it took for him to get up and walk off somewhere among the sea of his schoolmates, giving you the perfect opportunity to sneak over, crouch down, reach into the compartment and pull out the book, all the while ensuring he wasn’t heading back–

“What are you doing?!”

Whirling around whilst shooting to your feet elicited a dizzying blood rush to your head and caused your feet to stumble over each other, yet you were still able to focus on the person who yelled at you, realising it was none other than Seokjin. The same uninvited guest who had wandered into the clearing the night before was now standing a metre away, a frown narrowing his eyes into a glare straight at you.

Because, from an outsider’s perspective, it looked like you were a thief.

“Nothing,” was the only lame lie you could think of, despite the incriminating evidence in your grasp and your eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.

“Nothing? You’re stealing Jungkook’s sketchbook!”

“I’m not!” You hopelessly tried to reason. “I mean, I know it looks that way, but this is really important–“

“Yeah right. Now hand it over or I’ll–“

The second irrational thing you could think of to do the moment he began to stride over and reach his arms out towards you was scram.

Yet Seokjin refused to be outdone.

“Hey!” His voice boomed across the distance you desperately tried to place between you through dashing across the campus. “Get back here!”

Having no knowledge or familiarity of the college layout outweighed the advantage you had in being of smaller size and more agile in whizzing through cliques of students. He was hot on your heels even after you recklessly chose to dash into a random building, one that happened to be the home of music majors judging by a brown, open grand piano in one corner.

Bolting up a spiral staircase to the second floor was another wrong decision – you were pretty liberal in making those today – when you found yourself in a hallway full of classroom doors leading to a dead end. Unless you flung yourself out of the glass panels bolted to the windows on the wall, it was far too late to retract or find another way out as Seokjin had already caught up to you, chest heaving in exertion.

“Okay, listen, cause I’ll only say this once,” his voice resonated off the smooth surface of the walls along with pants of breath, “give me the book, and I won’t turn you in.”

That shocked you enough to spin and face him, indignant. “What? I’m not a thief!”

“Do you honestly think I’ll believe you after I saw you take it? Not to mention how sketchy you were acting last night!”

“I–“ your entire being halted, raising a disbelieving brow as an unwanted chuckle slipped past your lips. “Did you seriously just make a pun?”

Hands mussed his perfectly styled brown locks in exasperation. “That’s not the point! Just give me back the book–“

“I will!” You flinched a wide step back, cradling it to your chest, “But I need to help him first!”

“How is stealing his stuff supposed to help?!”

The flicker of silver light between your hands saved all forms of possible explanations. Energy from the sphere you had used too many times to count radiated off in tangible waves, but you barely gave Seokjin time to register if what he was seeing was an elaborate illusion before you directed it straight into the sketchbook.

Its cover glowed the same shade the same moment you held it out to him, triumphant. “There! Believe me now?”

Doe eyes wide enough to rival the full moon on a clear night were pinned on you, searing into your skin enough to knock some sense back into you like a metal bat to your head.

You had just used your magic.

In front of someone.

The sketchbook clattered deafeningly to the floor.

“Wha… how did you do that?”

Silence overtook the strangely empty hall as your brain short-circuited, the person in charge of its controls caught on fire, running around and screaming its head off. Red alarms blared thunderously, a single command registering itself into the parts of your consciousness still active: run.

Just like the night you met, you vanished without a trace… only, it was on foot this time.

26 notes · View notes

cryxtal-moon · 2 years

Text

Paperman | jjk

Summary: How you meet Jungkook starts with a piece of paper.

Genre/warnings: office worker!Jungkook, business woman!reader, meet cute au, fluff, excessive use of paper, no dialogue at all

Word count: 4k

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Author’s note: Based of the adorable Walt Disney short film Paperman and the song Best Shot by Birdy and Jaymes Young. Please give it a watch and listen cause they’re both amazing. There’s no dialogue, just description. As soon as I watched the film, I wanted to write a story based off it and this is the result! A spur-of-the-moment kind of thing, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless and feel free to let me know if you do. Happy reading >_<

The golden sunlight felt grey.

Jungkook knew this wasn’t true, the way it brightened the standard rectangular housing blocks behind him and reflected a rainbow of light off glass panels of windows attached to said buildings and caused the high end brands etched onto labels of designer bags hanging from the arms of other people around him to glow.

His mood, however, adamantly argued otherwise.

Every day felt the same. An identical boring routine, lifeless as the way papers on a black clipboard clutched in his hand fluttered when a train zoomed past behind him.

Other than the wind blowing the ends of his tailored suit jacket and hair a little towards the left, he barely flinched, and it hardly bothered him that his black locks were messed up by the blast.

Till something struck his upper arm.

It was another piece of paper, different in the contents imprinted on it though identical in the way it undoubtedly belonged to someone who worked at a mundane nine-to-five office job.

His arm was like its temporal shelter, plastered against it for a good three seconds then flying off with the winds again, Jungkook watching it go before a blurry figure rushing by almost at equal speed caught his attention.

The first thing he saw was your hair. How it was danced on the same breeze somehow more elegantly than the papers ever could. Then your hand reached out and caught the paper that had assaulted him, slowing and bringing your running form to a gentle halt.

When you turned around, he saw colour.

Blue, like a piece of the clear azure sky had been cut out and transformed into your button-down blouse. Black, the darkness of midnight but sadly with the absence of stars embroidered into it formed your pencil skirt that hugged your figure.

And red, like a rose had kissed your lips, staining them with its alluring ruby hue.

You shuffled the paper back among your own stack tucked into the crook of your elbow while walking back towards him, and the second your eyes flickered up was when his averted to the plain marble of the train platform, feeling a tiny, all-too-noticeable smile tug at the corners of his own mouth.

He was still beaming after you stopped a short distance away, so close all he had to do was stretch his arm to its full length and the tips of his fingers could brush your shoulder.

The sound of another train was accompanied by metal wheels on the railroad, breaking the peaceful silence between you, but also causing the same rather violent breeze to rush by–

–and fling one of his own papers directly into your face.

His breath caught. That wasn’t supposed to happen.

Jungkook immediately grasped the top of the sheet and pulled it off of you, revealing your eyes squeezed shut tight and furrowed brows, the oddly adorable scrunch of your nose and pouting lips.

Those eyes soon blinked open, once, twice, three times, realising the object that had suddenly attacked you was gone. Your gaze went from it to him, and you didn’t look angry, not in the slightest.

Instead, you gave him a small, friendly smile, your silhouette illuminated by sun rays painted the most vivid gold he’d ever seen.

His heart melted.

He could only watch, utterly mesmerised, as you looked back at the piece of paper his frozen self still held up. Surprise rounded your lips then curled them upwards in an amused grin.

Curiosity made him look down, assuming something else had stuck onto him without him knowing again, though there was nothing. Only after he checked the paper did notice what was so funny.

A perfect mark in the shape of your lips now stained the snow white surface, like two of the rose petals had unfurled and brushed across it, leaving scarlet dust in their wake and forever tainting the paper with a trace of you.

Soundless laughter shook his shoulders as his finger pointed at the mark, eyes closing for just a moment, which was why he blinked when he didn’t find you in front of him once he opened them again, as if you were nothing more than a mirage conjured by the depths of his subconscious.

Yet that assumption was soon proved wrong. He saw your retreating figure entering a pair of doors on the train that had halted ahead of the platform and out of his view, sliding into an empty seat just as they closed.

Disappointment loomed over him like a massive, destructive tidal wave. He’d hoped at the very least that you would stay, laugh a little, let him use this as a chance to strike some casual conversation. But as always, the reality of life and the busyness of your schedule unknown to him drew you away.

All he could do was stare at you almost forlornly, seated by the window, knowing this was probably his first, and last, encounter with you.

Yet against all odds you turned around, and your eyes connected over the gradually increasing distance.

If this was the last time, Jungkook was determined to make it more memorable than it already was.

So he smiled. Wishing you could see the unspoken hope etched on his face that desperately kept the daunting wave at bay.

And maybe you had, because you smiled too, right back at him.

⊱✿⊰

A different kind of tidal wave replaced the previous one as Jungkook sat at his assigned office space and stared at the rouge mark your lips had made on the paper, the only splash of vibrant colour on his dark, dull world.

Sadness.

There was a thunderous thump as someone unceremoniously dropped a whole bunch of identical forms on his desk right on top of the one he now deemed as yours.

He nearly jolted, head shooting up so fast it could have given him whiplash just to see his boss with a frown on his face he thought was permanently etched onto his fierce features looking down on him where he stood behind the table, a silent command for him to get to work, polished dress shoes clacking against the floorboards as he walked away.

The wind had such unfortunate timing. Then again, he was perched directly beside a window, the bottom slightly open so he could feel a cool breeze but also a harsh reminder of the freedom that lay beyond the prison walls of this workplace.

It carried your piece of paper with it and Jungkook barely grappled it in time before it could fly away, and with it the precious reminder of that fateful encounter that was now a treasured memory he’d hold on to forever.

He pulled it back within the safety of the building, standing up and letting out a sigh of relief, coincidentally looking through the transparent glass separating him and the rest of the world–

–and, as luck would have it, you.

Perhaps the wind didn’t have bad timing after all.

Gasping, his grip went slack on your paper, palms slapping on the glass surface as his breath fogged the clear panel in shock.

You were right there, on the same floor of the building opposite of his office. Whoever had built it, he owed them a million bucks for installing floor-to-ceiling windows; he could see you, clear as day, shaking hands with someone else he didn’t recognise and gracefully sitting on a chair.

Excitement filled him to the brim with energy he didn’t realise he could possess, briefly wondering what he should do before an idea popped into his mind and he was shoving the rail up and waving his hands eagerly over his head, desperately trying to attract your attention.

The distinct sound of someone clearing his throat on his left had him whipping his head around. His boss was leaning back on his chair, sending a glare his way with the same unspoken order written across his face.

Sitting back down, Jungkook wracked his brain for an idea. Something, anything, that would let you know he was right there.

His gaze fell to where your paper lay innocently on his desk beside a whole bunch of other forms.

That’s it.

No hesitation was seen in the way he grabbed the one on top and hurriedly folded the two corners down. It wasn’t like he was going to use any of them, anyway.

Soon enough, he was determinedly evening out the final corners of a paper aeroplane, one he didn’t know would be the first of many.

Casting a final wary glance over at his boss, he stood up, readied himself, and threw it out the window…

…just to see it flutter pathetically to the hustle and bustle of traffic below.

He blinked a couple of times in complete disbelief. That was, for the lack of a better word, ridiculously unexpected.

It didn’t matter. He had to shake it off.

Grabbing the next piece of paper, he created another aeroplane within seconds. People rarely succeeded on their first try but they did always learn from it. He was one of said people – the plane flew smoothly across the distance, hope rising the closer it inched towards the window–

–then its tip struck the brick wall of the building right beside the open space, hopes dropping like the plane that fell and was lost to the business district streets.

Third time’s the charm.

However, someone landed a harsh grip on his shoulder just as he’d finished his origami art and pinned him against the back of his chair, heart jolting in his chest as his boss slammed the window shut, a sort of final warning for him to do what he was paid for.

Like the tens of people around wearing the same monochrome suits with a basket of forms on their table that never seemed to end.

No. Absolutely not.

Once his boss was safely hidden behind his closed office door, he let the third plane soar.

It did land through the window, but not where you were, gliding to a smooth halt on the desk of an office worker a floor below who looked at him in pleasant surprise – he must have assumed he was the intended recipient. Until the man caught him waving his arms in a wide, obvious gesture of no, and he crumpled the paper into a ball and hurled it out where it could join the first two.

His fourth try was a failure; a bunch of birds (of all things, birds) flew past right as the plane was about to enter and threw it off its original trajectory.

His fifth, sixth, and seventh try fared no better, striking invisible targets on the building’s exterior wall.

The eighth, on the other hand, finally flew straight into the window, but you weren’t seated on the chair anymore and were blind to its sudden presence gracing the room you were in.

Jungkook banged his head against the wall.

He tried. And failed. And tried. And failed. The planes kept hitting the building literally right beside or just below the open window, never sailing in the way he wanted them to.

His hand reached out for what felt like the umpteenth time but it didn’t meet the smooth surface of paper like he’d thought it would, instead knocking an empty plastic basket which housed the forms onto the ground with a resounding crash.

Everything and everyone paused. All eyes were on him. A man whose name he’d never cared to find out shuffled his own stack of forms closer, like he was suddenly protective of the million copies the company produced every day.

He paid no mind, peering back out at you where you stood up, out of the chair and shook hands with that man in the same room as you.

The sound of paper fluttering drew his attention to one more piece he hadn’t accounted for.

Your piece.

Heart thumping, Jungkook carefully yet diligently kneeled down so he was on eye-level with the paper and made the most perfect, aero-dynamic paper plane he’d ever constructed in his life. One deep inhale filled his lungs with air and invisible courage. This was it. His last chance.

But that chance was blown out of his grasp and the window by a strong gust he hadn’t seen coming. No amount of panicked fumbling after it would ever bring it back.

Or bring you back, it seemed, since you exited the room.

He whirled around right as the door of his boss’ office was pulled open and the man stuck his head out. His colleagues instantly returned to their work, keeping up the pretence that it was what they had been doing the whole time and not watching his antics.

You were there on the ground floor when he turned back, leaving the building across the street. If he left now, he knew he could make it on time and catch you and the thought propelled him off where he’d grasped the window ledge and was about to make a break for the door–

–but the sharp glare of his boss who appeared out of nowhere brought his feet to an abrupt halt.

More of those papers, those stupid, ludicrous papers were held tight in his grasp, letting them fall on his desk as he himself slumped into his seat.

Jungkook stared at his boss. The obsidian black of his fitted suit blazer and slacks and dress shoes and hair, like the darkness before an impending doom.

He stared at his surroundings. The painful whiteness of shirts on his colleagues like they’d shopped at the same outlet and the naked light bulbs bathing the room in a harsh glow.

He stared at the walls. Grey, reminiscent of a real prison cell, one he’d never failed to feel trapped in day after day but disregarded in favour of a monthly pay cheque that allowed him to scrape by.

This was his life. Dull, boring, bleak. A repetitive motion like the crest and peak of waves against golden sandy shores.

And those waves… they were blue, blue like the sky, like your button-down blouse he’d give anything to see again.

In his monochrome world, you were the only colour he’d ever known.

And he’d be darned if he didn’t do something about it.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Jungkook bolted out of his seat, leaving his place of confinement in a flurry of papers, running, sprinting, chasing after the feeling that you and your vibrant colour brought he now understood the name of.

Hope.

⊱✿⊰

Two paper aeroplanes lay limp on the ground of the sidewalk when Jungkook burst through the revolving doors.

Sounds of tyres screeching against the tarmac hurt his ears when he bolted across the road, throwing all caution to the wind and very nearly being run over by not one but three vehicles he narrowly avoided because of an agility he didn’t know he had.

By the time he barely scraped the jaws of certain death and made it to the safety of the opposite street, his chest was heaving, breaths quick and almost shallow, frantic in the way his hands ran through his hair and his eyes swept past more anonymous lifeless souls sporting the same business attire in search of you.

But all he found was the paper aeroplane, lying innocently atop a mailbox, the final one he’d folded using your piece, traitorously branded with the scarlet mark of your lips on its left wing.

That was what started all of this. The cause of his blind hope, disappointment, loss of his job (because he knew his boss would refuse to accept him back after the stunt he just pulled) and now, frustration, since all it did was remind him of you, someone he’d risked it all for, who he would never see again.

It was in that same fit of anger did he violently snatch the paper plane and throw it with all his might far, far away, hoping it would just disappear the way you did.

And with that, he stormed off, letting the crushing waves of exasperation and bitterness swallow him whole.

⊱✿⊰

The paper plane did not, in fact, disappear.

Guided by wind currents, it soared peacefully over the rooftops of skyscrapers and houses and offices until it reached one building shrouded almost completely by darkness.

There was one side of the enormous block that was illuminated by a sliver of sunlight peeking through thick clouds, a single golden ray blindingly bright amidst the shade cascading across a concave part of the structure, as though the builders had hollowed out a line right down the middle like a puzzle piece waiting to be filled.

The plane knocked the edge of the roof and promptly sailed downwards, discovering where the rest of his fellow companions had ended up too, the majority of them covered by the blanket of blackness while it gracefully landed in the light.

Silence.

Then it moved. A small flip, like someone had given it a gentle nudge, and it was resting on its other wing, and it tipped back over again. Next, it inched forward once, twice, thrice, four times, and after a fifth step it leapt into the air.

It began circling around the narrow corridor, dipping and rising in a rhythmic pattern. The rest of its friends soon followed suit, a few at first, before all of them were flying in a tiny tornado growing wilder and more violent with every passing second.

At that same moment did Jungkook trudge past the small space, much too lost in his muddled mess of thoughts to hear the flutter of paper–

–or see a bunch of planes marching according to the beat of his every step in a single file towards him.

Your piece stuck itself onto his shin, bringing his feet to a halt for him to reach down and pluck it off with a puzzled frown. He thought he’d thrown this aside. He didn’t need a blatant reminder of his failures.

But the second he flung it behind him in a second attempt to rid himself of it, the plane attached itself to his chest, and so did a bunch of others he immediately swiped off.

All such efforts were fruitless when they jabbed at him using their sharp, pointed tip, an endless number of planes pushing him back by some sort of invisible force much stronger than anything he’d ever felt.

He was helpless in their sudden assault, flailing his limbs carelessly when they bounced him across the street past cars and trucks, standing him back upright on the sidewalk.

Befuddled and powerless, he could only watch as your piece circled him twice and then flew off to a destination unknown.

⊱✿⊰

The speed at which the plane tore through the air could rival the fastest jet.

It was on a mission, zooming over endless winding roads and more buildings and nameless people on the streets, becoming faster and faster the closer it reached its target, not caring at all that a newspaper stand it raced past was blasted with wind, messing up the meticulously organised shelves in its wake.

There you were, standing ahead of a small flower stand, oblivious to the clutter of newspapers littering the ground behind you.

A small loop-the-loop behind your form later, the plane nose-dived right into a small bouquet directly within your line of sight. And it must have worked, seeing as you did a double take with eyes that widened considerably then narrowed at the strangely familiar paper, leaning in closer to check whether it was really what you thought it was.

It had your attention. Good.

The plane zipped right back out of its temporary holding position, and like a cat noticing a little red dot beaming off a pointer, you traced its every move, twirling elegantly when it flew around you and off into the distance with you hot on its tail.

⊱✿⊰

As though playing a game of catch-me-if-you-can, you followed it down pathways and past the city district, rushing after it up a flight of stairs that led to the train station.

Meanwhile, on the opposite end of town, Jungkook was still forcefully pushed by the multitude of paper planes he long gave up fighting against. Even holding onto a support beam by the staircase didn’t do him much good other than confirm he wasn’t imagining the whole ordeal – a passerby travelling down those same steps braced his own arm on the railing so he wouldn’t be blown away, a firm hand on his fedora to keep it there just as Jungkook lost his own grip.

⊱✿⊰

The paper plane glided leisurely onto the platform, taunting you because even as it slowed, you still couldn’t grasp it, flying further away and making you run some more.

Jungkook couldn’t even try to run. The split second he faced the opposite direction those idiotic planes wanted him to go, they spun him right back around, moving his legs for him up yet another flight of stairs.

⊱✿⊰

The next thing you knew, you were boarding a train, or more specifically pursuing the paper plane that headed past its open doors, barely even registering it leaving the station in your haste.

Holding onto the edges of the doorframe for his dear life was just as useless as the first time Jungkook tried that with the support beam. He should have known that, but he was nothing if not a fighter. The wind and planes just so happened to be stronger.

Him face-planting the train floor was sufficient proof of that statement.

⊱✿⊰

Threading his arms across his chest (or as much of his chest he could manage due to those stubborn aeroplanes covering his entire body), Jungkook slumped against the leather backrest of a bench, ignoring the bewildered look a young boy holding a red balloon shot him.

He tried one more time to get up. The planes shoved him right back down.

A woman tugged the child away, fearing for his safety.

Jungkook didn’t blame her.

⊱✿⊰

Now that the pesky plane finally stopped playing its tiresome game of catch and was held within your delicate grasp, you inspected it closely. It was beyond the shadow of a doubt the one that had hit your face that morning.

What it was doing here, you’d love to know…

…and you had a funny feeling you would find out very soon.

⊱✿⊰

Two trains pulled to a smooth stop at the same platform.

Curiosity overtaking your senses, you peered outside, stepping off the train and at the stop you had been earlier that morning.

You didn’t know why you felt like there would have been something here, a sign telling you the reason why this little plane had gone through so much trouble just to get you here. Nonetheless, it was deserted.

Said object jumped in your hands three times, a little lifeless compared to its previous energetic state. Right when you felt the beginnings of a strong wind threatening to blow it away, your grip tightened on its base…

…just to see more of such paper planes blowing across the ground beneath you.

You looked up, and there he was.

⊱✿⊰

Jungkook didn’t care that there were paper planes stuck on his suit. He didn’t care that his once styled hair probably looked as dishevelled and wind-tousled as it felt, or that there were aches dancing across his nerves from being man-handled.

All that mattered was that those planes had brought him right back where it started. To you.

You, in all your glory, beautiful as an iris in full bloom on a spring day, holding on to the paper that had started everything.

The red stain you’d left on the plane paled in comparison to your scarlet lips, pulled up at the corners to send a dazzling smile his way.

And when Jungkook shook off the ones still clinging to him, stepping closer to you with his own giant grin, the rest of his world became flooded with full, living colour.

#bts #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts reactions #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook scenarios #jungkook scenario #fic: paperman

95 notes · View notes

cryxtal-moon · 2 years

Text

💌 get to know me

tagged by: @ahundredtimesover, this seems fun so why not ^_^

relationship status: happily single

three favourite colours: lavender, rose gold and all things pastel

three favourite foods: rice, yakiniku beef and tamago sushi

song I am currently listening to: california sky by greyson chance

last thing I googled: story prompts for inspiration

dream trip: Seoul, South Korea, New York, Paris

anything I really want: to understand and speak Korean fluently so I can stop reading subtitles, to go to a concert featuring all hybe artists + IU, to learn how to draw well & find inspiration for my next story (I seriously need the last one >_<)

#tag games

0 notes

cryxtal-moon · 3 years

Text

about me

Introduction

Hi! I’m Daphne, nice to meet you :)

Ult group: BTS

Bias: ot7

My works

I write BTS fan fiction. I love the art of writing and telling stories.

For those who are new, thank you for giving my works a chance. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I did writing them ^_^

Let’s be friends!

Feel free to hit me up with a message anytime! I love receiving and responding to them. You lovelies can take my reply as a warm, virtual hug from me to you

FAQ

*ૢ I don't write 18+ content

*ૢ The only tag list I have is for Half Moon. Other than that, I don't have any

*ૢ Constructive criticism is always appreciated. If you're here to hate on writers, stories or groups of any kind, please see yourself out

#FAQ #about me

1 note · View note

cryxtal-moon · 3 years

Text

cryxtal-moon's masterlist

KEY: fluff (f) | angst (a)

Drabbles

One shots

❉ hey stranger

❉ 1k, strangers to lovers | (f)

"It would be nice to know his name."

Series

Drabbles

One shots

Series

❈ half moon

❈ 18k, resort manager!Seokjin, bookstore worker!reader, strangers to lovers | (f) (a)

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

❈ little cart of wonders | chapter index

❈ investor!Seokjin, cart owner!reader, magic au, strangers to lovers | (f) (a)

"Those born with the ability to use magic are rare. They hide in plain sight while helping people with an ordinary career path they have chosen. You’re no different, until you get caught by Seokjin in a desperate attempt to help his friend. Things get more complicated when people you know with magic begin disappearing one by one, and you two take it upon yourselves to find them… even if it means losing your ability forever."

Drabbles

One shots

Series

Drabbles

One shots

Series

Drabbles

One shots

Series

Drabbles

One shots

Series

Drabbles

One shots

❃ snaps + post-script drabble

❃ 10k, neighbours au, photographer!Jungkook, assistant/music producer!reader, friends to lovers | (f)

"A tale of you as Jungkook’s assistant while he goes around with a camera strapped to his neck. More accurately, you being annoyed at him treating you like a mini helper and him cheekily taking more than six months to admit he loves you."

❃ paperman

❃ 4k, office worker!Jungkook, business woman!reader, meet cute au | (f)

"How you meet Jungkook starts with a piece of paper."

Series

One shots

Series

27 notes · View notes

cryxtal-moon · 3 years

Note

Hi! Half Moon is such a good story so far! It’s so captivating I couldn’t stop reading! I can’t wait to read more, so please if you have a tag list could I be added?

Hey there :) thank you for reading it, I’m really glad you enjoyed the story. I do plan on making a tag list and sure, I’ll add you to it. Have a great day love >_<

#asks and replies #halfmoon #sevenpersona

2 notes · View notes

cryxtal-moon · 3 years

Note

Hellooo! First, I love your stories. Second, do you have a tag list for Half Moon? If yes, may I be added to it? Half Moon, OMG I love every part of it. I can't finds to describe it beacuse it's seriously beautifully written. I love the mix of angst and fluff. I loooove the allusion to A Little Prince too because that is also one of my fave books! This seriously made me want to read the book again 🥰💜 Anyway, I am excited for the next chapter! You are a great author by the way! 🥰💜 Rooting for youuu! 💜💜💜

Thank you so much for reading it! :) this message really made my day. I currently don’t have a tag list for it, but I can make one and add you to it😊 I love the little prince too; sadly I only managed to watch the movie rendition of it, but it’s amazing and I really want to buy the book for myself one day so I can read the story too. Again, thank you so much for enjoying my stories 🥰💜 hope you’re having a great day!

#asks and replies #halfmoon #aianloveseven

0 notes

cryxtal-moon · 3 years

Text

Half Moon | ksj - 01

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

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

Word count: 18k

Pairing: Seokjin x reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you have any fairy tales?”

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s your favourite story?”

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

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

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

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

It was weird, to say the least.

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

“The Little Prince.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t know his name.

⊱✿⊰

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I hope you never lose your childlike wonder.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Do we have any books on fairy tales?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Um... tonight, in the restaurant.”

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

“Do you have plans?”

“I was going to visit a bookstore…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⊱✿⊰

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I… I guess I wouldn’t mind, but–“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who’s this lovely lady?”

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

“Hi,” you smiled, “nice to meet you.”

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

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

⊱✿⊰

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mr Kim?”

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

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

“No, everything’s fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I… guess you could say that, yeah.”

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

“I’m sorry?”

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

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

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

Wait.

Had he said that out loud?

“What was that?”

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

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

He seriously needed to stop running his mouth.

⊱✿⊰

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aww, were you waiting for me?”

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

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

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

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

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

Of course he was.

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

“Okay, follow me.”

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

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

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

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

“Tell me your name.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jin.

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

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

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

⊱✿⊰

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was why he hated family meetings.

⊱✿⊰

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is… everything okay, Miss Sohee?”

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

Why had you asked when you already knew the answer?

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

“Sure, of course.”

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

Something was definitely wrong.

⊱✿⊰

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⊱✿⊰

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

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

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

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

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

You’re the first.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Definitely wary.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You visited her.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seokjin was certain the oxygen levels in the room plummeted to negative one in his older brother’s theory spiel. Any sort of response or lack thereof would only serve to confirm his suspicions – he was caught between a rock and a hard place, with Sang-jun dangling the key to freedom on a string before his face.

The drag of his chair and smoothening of his blazer was accompanied by a firm glare, promptly ending their conversation as he rose to his feet.

“Believe what you will, Sang-jun. But know this,” his gaze didn’t waver in the slightest, “neither you nor our parents are in charge of my life, so you best stay out of it.”

Eerie laughter reverberated into his ears from the table as he strode briskly away. “I’ll be sure to congratulate this person on my next visit, little bro!”

⊱✿⊰

Miss Sohee opening the front door in the morning had a tidal wave of relief crashing over you. A smile that you knew was real since it crinkled the corners of her eyes indicated that she was alright, but confirmed what Jin had mentioned two nights prior – if the guy had shaken her up that badly, you couldn’t fathom what it was like handling him by yourself.

You decided not to bring any of it up after you went through the entrance.

“Good morning, _____,” her cheery tone perked your lips upward too, watching as she watered the rose still situated atop the counter. “This rose is lovely. Did you bring it in?”

“No,” heat tinted your cheeks at the memory as you spoke, “it was a gift from a customer. He, uh… he really likes books.”

“Well,” Miss Sohee’s tone seemed to have some sort of hidden meaning, “if he ever shows up again, remind me to thank him. Also, there’s a new shipment coming in soon.”

The familiar sound of a truck pulling up beside the shop, accompanied by Jungkook honking twice to announce his presence, had you heading out the door, only to stop to voice an afterthought with a wink, “Or right now.”

A pink butterfly fluttered off the door handle on the outside when you pushed it open to greet the young man headed to the back of the delivery vehicle. The scene reminded you of helping to stock the library at the resort; five boxes were filled to the brim with books ready to be stored on the shelves for customers’ perusal. The sole difference was you had the green light to access each one and the excitement added an extra spring in your steps.

Another honk, this one long-lasting, resonated from behind you and Jungkook, making him swiftly pull you back to the safety of the sidewalk. This was the second time a polished car pulled up beside the bookstore, red-bottomed Louboutins delicately gracing the gravel before another aristocrat rose out of the Lincoln town, light brown ringlets brushing against a white boat neck tucked into high waisted flared black pants.

You felt Jungkook stiffen where his arm had wrapped around your shoulders to press you into his chest, a quick glance up showing that his facial features had hardened, all traces of a grin he greeted you with gone instantly. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that he knew who she was. The same way the other guy knew Miss Sohee.

The woman removed her sunglasses to rest them against her high ponytail, eyes narrowing on the vintage font boasting the shop’s name.

“I’ll just be a second, Hwan,” she spoke to the driver, the car door held open, “I’m not going to talk to her anyway…”

Her gaze trailed to where you and Jungkook were standing, a beam you could only describe as predatory pulling at her bold red lips becoming clear with every step she took to close the gap, stare fixated more on the delivery boy than you. You didn’t know if that was relieving or nerve-wracking till a thought occurred to you – it wasn’t your turn to be scrutinised. Not yet.

“Well well,” her cream jacket sleeves didn’t wrinkle upon her crossing her arms smoothly over her chest, “I almost didn’t recognise you. That’s quite the glow up, Kookie.”

The harshness of his tone made him sound like a complete stranger, so much so you had to steal another look at him to ensure it was still Jungkook standing behind you. “What are you doing here, Shin-hye?”

“Relax. I’m not here to make a scene,” you couldn’t tell whether or not she was lying, especially watching her shoulders bounce lightly as she chuckled, “I don’t need a reason to visit my aunt, now do I?”

You went still. Her aunt?

This woman was Miss Sohee’s niece?

“So this is her little place, hm?” Shin-hye’s gaze roamed every inch of the bookstore’s exterior and you were now grateful she hadn’t bothered to acknowledge you; your brain was short-circuiting like a fried computer chip doused in water while trying to process this new information. “Can’t say I’m impressed.”

Turning her focus back to the other two people on the sidewalk, her eyes zeroed in on you only for a second before they noticed how Jungkook had his arm around you, grip unwavering.

“Is this your girlfriend?” She shook her head with an air of disappointment. “You could do so much better, Kookie.”

He scoffed, raising a brow. “Like who? You?”

“Wouldn’t that be something.” A perfectly manicured blood red nail ran down the expanse of his short sleeve. “Me and the cute delivery boy. My mother would have a fit.”

Her long, drawn-out sigh was wistful. “Come to think of it…” she leaned in close, maroon lips a breath away from the shell of his ear, “I love how scandalous it seems.”

That statement confirmed the social divide between people of her privileged background and your own mere earnings of ten bucks an hour, a frustrated ire flaring up in your chest, effectively melting the ice that had previously froze your whole body over, verbalised in the next words you addressed her with.

“Back off,” you never heard your own voice so biting in all your life, but if there was one thing you couldn’t stand it was people intimidating those you cared about. “Stop making my friend uncomfortable. If you’re not here to visit the bookstore, then leave.”

Your glare emphasising the commands caught her off-guard for a good two seconds, should the disappearance of her smirk and the way her hand faltered from his shoulder be anything to go by, before she was emitting a dry chuckle, attention fully set on you now.

“Feisty,” there was a certain gleam in her piercing hazel irises knowing you posed a challenge, “I like her. Alright, I’ll go. I wasn’t going to stay long, anyway.”

Catching a whiff of her floral perfume as she stalked past almost made you gag, heels clicking against the stone pavement on her way back to the car. She did, however, halt temporarily behind the car door she pulled open in order to look up at you one last time.

“I’ll be keeping my eye on you, little missy,” Shin-hye pointed the same nail she used to trace Jungkook’s sleeve straight at you, a smug smile twisting at her lips again. “I have a feeling we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other.”

Identical to the indirect encounter you had with the guy who threatened Miss Sohee, you waited for the fancy town car to disappear around a fork in the road to mumble, “I hope not.”

Jungkook letting out a tired sigh prompted your turn to face him, concern softening the edges of your gaze as he ran a hand through his black locks in time while shaking his head a little. Whatever questions you had on how he knew who that woman was were silenced – your priority was checking on him to make sure he was okay, a fact he reassured you of with a gentle pat on your head.

You remained unconvinced in the subsequent silence where both of you carried boxes of books into Butterfly Corner, his inhumane strength allowing him to carry two in his arms in contrast to the singular one in your grasp. Miss Sohee leaning against the edge of the counter wasn’t where you expected to see her, pausing in your tracks the moment you observed her looking in the direction the car had driven off in.

A rueful smile holding no real joyous light graced her face as she looked at you. “You met my niece, didn’t you?”

You could only manage to nod numbly, arms falling limply to your sides when Jungkook took the box out of your grasp and brought it to the storage room, unaffected by the conversation taking place since he already knew what she was talking about.

In the span of time you had worked here and gotten to know your boss, she had never mentioned any of her family members or life outside of being an author. The only thing you knew for sure were her trips across the globe in the seven years she worked as a travel writer, the popularity of her stories aiding her in buying a small space she transformed into the bookstore you were currently standing in. She always appeared too busy working on her next bestseller to share personal stories, nor had you ever made the effort to ask.

“Did you see my nephew too?” Her question wasn’t accusatory, just genuinely curious. “He came here two days ago, the morning you went to the Sweet Shoppe.”

You weren’t as shocked as you had been earlier during Shin-hye’s announcement that she was her aunt, because it made sense now.

The older woman pushed off the counter, steps slow and careful in their approach like she was afraid any sudden movements would scare you off, but you didn’t even blink as her hand came to a rest on your shoulder.

“I know this must seem strange,” her voice, although softer, was audible over the door sliding open and Jungkook bringing the final two boxes inside. “My family situation is… complicated, to say the least. I don’t want you to get caught up in it, but I’m worried that you will because I let you work here.”

You gulped, the implication of her words causing your chest to constrict tighter with every passing second. “Are you… letting me go?”

“What?” Despite being flummoxed by your out of the blue query, she was quick to shake her head in negation. “No, my dear, of course not. I know you love being here, and I’ll never find someone as passionate as you.”

“I’m just warning you,” there was a serious edge in her tone hardening the round of her eyes you couldn’t help going stiff at, “they will come back and cause trouble. Now that they know I’m back, it’s unlikely they’ll leave me alone.”

“Huh,” you mumbled, mostly to yourself, “that’s exactly what Jin said.”

“Jin?”

Jungkook was the one who spoke this time, both brows quirking, an emotion crossing his face you couldn’t quite pinpoint. “Who’s that?”

“Just a customer who comes here often. He gave me the rose.”

Telepathy was apparently a superpower you were just finding out both he and Miss Sohee had – an unspoken conversation passed between their eyes for a solid three seconds, then your boss was addressing you again.

“_____, why don’t you take tomorrow off?” The request, albeit gentle, wasn’t so much of a suggestion rather than an instruction you didn’t dare to argue or question. “Go visit Hoseok at the dance studio. I think he misses you.”

“More like misses my chocolate-covered strawberry cupcakes,” you found yourself relaxing after the comment lightened the tension that had settled around the bookstore, all the more when Jungkook perked up at the mention of the treats he knew you could bake better than anyone.

“Oh, can you make some for me? Please?”

“Kookie, they’re five hundred calories each–“

⊱✿⊰

Moonlight cutting through a gap in his curtains shining onto his mobile nearly tricked him into thinking his phone had received a new text. Half of Seokjin felt disappointed seeing no notifications from you lighting his screen up, while the other half of him felt relieved because it meant his brother hadn’t visited the bookstore the way he had warned him on his last date before he left the restaurant.

He did hope there was a small chance of you simply texting him to ask how his day had gone. His frequent visits had to have changed your impression of him by now, going beyond just another regular customer to friend, and perhaps something more in the future should it be kind to him. Yet, maybe it was foolish of him to think that way by the thirtieth time he refreshed his inbox to see nothing sent by an unsaved number.

Spinning in his swivel chair, he glanced at the crescent moon illuminating a corner of the midnight sky, a single star twinkling not too far off. All it reminded him of was the way its light would shine through the glass window pane in the bookstore, beams shining on you where you were perched on the chair with a book cupped between your palms.

Were you thinking of him as much as he was thinking of you?

A sigh of resignation slipping past his petaled lips was overpowered by three knocks against the door’s surface, resonating in his quiet office, of which he called aloud to whoever it was to come in.

It was a pair of casual blue jeans moving past the wooden frame that puzzled him first, an attire much too casual for normal resort guests to be caught dead in, then it morphed into shock the moment the woman pulled a pair of black sunglasses off her face. No one wore those at night, but it was for shielding her eyes from being recognised by anyone in the lobby and on the way up here, not to make a bold fashion statement.

“Aunt Sohee?”

Scrambling to his feet, he ignored the sudden blood rush to his head tilting the room just a little and her harsh shh! the same time she motioned for him to settle down. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you,” slow, almost cautious steps were soundless on the carpeted floor. He noting how her lips were set in a firm line, a direct contrast to her warm greeting many days ago during his first visit. “Your secretary’s gone, by the way. It’s the only reason I could come in.”

Namjoon had left to purchase something on the street Butterfly Corner was stationed, the same road he had every intention of visiting the second he got off work until this unprecedented visit happened. Sheer luck had been on her side that Sang-jun hadn’t decided to spontaneously show up or was lurking somewhere in the giant lobby.

Either way, Seokjin trusted that his aunt had been the most careful she had ever been when she had set foot on the marble resort grounds.

“Can we talk for a minute?”

Her seriousness piqued his curiosity and tensed him up in equal measure. “Yeah, of course.”

The black leather sofas and cream love seats were finally put to good use – he settled in a chair on her right, watching how she observed an unlit candle wick in the center of the mahogany coffee table, hands folded carefully on her lap and the way she opted to sit up straight instead of lean against the backrest.

“I don’t have a lot of time, so I’ll get straight to the point,” Sohee glanced at him then, his hands tightening their grip on the ends of his blazer at her solemn expression. “It’s about _____.”

If anyone were to peer closely at his outfit, the jacket would look like someone had missed two spots while ironing it; more fabric crumpled into his palms the stronger his grasp became.

“I know you’ve been visiting the bookstore,” she went on, tone light, “but it’s not just to buy books, is it?”

His shoulders slumped slightly, only because the other person he didn’t find the need to lie around was his aunt. “No.”

A corner of her lips pulled up in a half-smile then, encouraging him to relax further into the cushion. “You like her, don’t you?”

Silence enveloped the room again, serving as his response, but confirmed by a singular nod directed more at his shoes than her since his head had lowered in mild embarrassment.

“I can see why,” Sohee was smiling for real this time. “_____’s a sweetheart. She reminds me of who Shin-hye could be if it weren’t for the luxury she grew up with. And speaking of, Shin-hye and _____ met this morning.”

The speed at which his head looked back up was enough for his neck muscles to cramp, “What?”

“Shin-hye came to the bookstore this morning. She didn’t talk to me, but Jungkook and _____ were unloading books when she drove over.”

Discomfort ebbed in his chest where his heart twisted uncomfortably, the mental image of his sister talking down to you furrowing his brow into what could be considered a glare.

“Did she say anything to her? Or Jungkook?”

“Nothing bad, as far as I know. But _____ knows that she’s my niece,” she told him gently, “and that Sang-jun’s my nephew. You haven’t told her who you are, have you?”

“No,” he sighed for the second time that day. “She did tell me I look like Sang-jun, though.”

Her gaze softened around the edges while contemplating on her next few words, mouth opening and closing once before she was speaking again.

“Seokjin, if you’re serious about _____, then you know you can’t keep her in the dark forever,” as much as he didn’t want to hear it, he knew that was the truth. “I won’t stop you from pursuing her. Truth be told, you have my full support. But she has to know what she’s getting into.”

“Your family… no,” she shook her head, correcting the descriptive term “our family isn’t going to be accepting of her, not after what happened to me. You know that. Just promise me you’ll think about what I said, before anything else happens.”

It was as if Sohee’s final words were their only warning before the start of another disaster no one had seen coming.

The office door nearly flew off its hinges as Namjoon came barrelling into the room, tie askew around the collar of his button down, chest heaving in exertion from what he assumed his rush to reach judging by the sheen of perspiration dampening his forehead.

“Hyung,” his old friend panted, “there’s something I need to–“

Namjoon cut himself off upon noticing his aunt, someone who shouldn’t be in the room, his eyes going impossibly wide. “Aunt Sohee?”

“Joon,” Seokjin spoke, voice calm, a complete juxtaposition of the ice cold dread settling within his stomach, “what happened?”

“It’s your mum. She’s at the bookstore right now.”

⊱✿⊰

The weight of the watering can in your palm brought back memories of Jin’s first arrival at Butterfly Corner. You were in exactly the same position you were now, propped up on a small stool, feeding the curling ivy its daily dose for the tiny white buds to blossom the next day. If only the door would open right at the second for him to enter, an inquiry for another book his way of greeting you, or maybe he’d present you with a second flower to give the only rose a companion on the counter.

As much as you knew it was wrong to harbour premature feelings for someone you barely knew, you couldn’t pay no heed to the spark he had lit in your heart since meeting him. You were pulled towards him like a moth to a flame, with the exception that you were willing to be burned.

A crescent moon hung in the darkened expanse of sky while the rest of the orb was hidden by clouds, a physical representation of your regular train of thought blocked by the shroud of mystery that was Jin, one you believed your time together would shine a beacon of light on.

Perchance your imaginings had been heard by said moon, you were unable to fight the hopeful smile gracing your face and whirling you around to face the door that pushed open.

“Jin?”

Only for a woman to step inside and shatter your wishful thinking.

Her light grey coat gave off the high society vibe she was undoubtedly going for, square sunglasses outlined in gold metal removing themselves to sit atop her flawlessly curled head of hair for her eyes to zero in on you. The distance didn’t prevent you from noticing that they were the same shade of obsidian black, accented with a certain iciness that seemed to emanate from her entire being, creeping its way to where you stood, frozen.

“Hello,” her greeting was curt, lacking any warmth that was slowly seeping out of the homey bookstore the moment she had entered. “I’m looking for Yun Sohee. She’s the owner of this place, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Y-yes, miss,” your words sounded as shaky as you felt, “but I’m afraid Miss Sohee’s not around right now. She left the bookstore fifteen minutes ago. May I… um, help to relay your message instead?”

You didn’t know it was possible for her gaze to become that much more hostile.

“I assume since you’re working here, you have her number, correct?”

Your nod, though microscopic, wasn’t missed by her sharp glare.

“Then call Sohee and tell her that her half-sister, Kim Chae-yeong, is here to speak to her. And if she’s not back within the next five minutes, I will have no problem shutting this place down immediately.”

The watering can was lost to the floor.

54 notes · View notes